 Oh those colors Director: Krzysztof Kieślowski Writer: Krzysztof Kieślowski and Krzysztof Piesiewicz Cinematographer: Sławomir Idziak Producer: Leonardo De La Fuente by Jon Cvack Having completed The Double Life of Veronique a little under two weeks ago, I’m realizing how few details I remember from the story, as the images are so powerful that you begin to forget the narrative; offering the strange experience where you’re mindful of each moment’s beauty and brilliance and at times you forget to connect it to what happened prior. Kieślowski was a self-described pessimist, whose early death seemed an inevitable conclusion. As with his other films, I was left with a peculiar melancholy. It's a story about the smallest moments that provide meaning and satisfaction in our lives; from looking through a glass crystal ball and seeing the beautiful distortion of life and light to the way in which music allows us to momentarily transcend our dissatisfaction and frustration; all combining to provide meaning within the smallest moments. The story follows a young Polish woman Weronika (Irène Jacob) singing outdoors with a choir when a sudden downpour causes her fellow members to run for cover while Weronika holds the final note. She meets up with her boyfriend, Antek (Jerzy Gudejko), where the two head back to his apartment and have sex, providing one of many gorgeous lovemaking sequences I've ever seen. The next day she explains that she’s going to go and take care of her aunt in Kraków, taking a break from their relationship. While in Kraków, Weronika sings for a local choir, soon attracting the attention of the musical director and a conductor who offers her a chance to audition for their company. Afterward, she exits to the urban streets where a protest takes place against the government. When one of the demonstrators bumps into her and causes the sheet music to fall and scatter in the wind, Weronika looks up and sees what looks like her twin sister board a bus and drive away. Weronika gets the part, and during her opening performance, she pours everything she has into the performance before collapsing dead onto the stage. That same day, we cut to the alleged twin Veronique (also played by Irène Jacob) making love to her own boyfriend before suddenly struck by melancholy. The next day at a school where Veronique teaches music, she takes her class to a marionette play, providing another gorgeous and incredibly lifelike performance from the puppeteer while the music of Van den Budenmayer plays over; the same song that Weronika died singing. Veronique explains to her father that she’s begun to feel lonely, as though a person she loved had abandoned her life. The episode is intense enough to cause her to go and get an EKG to see if there might be a deeper illness; throughout which she begins receiving mysterious phone calls and a strange cassette tape containing sounds from a nearby train station where she finds the puppeteer. Her and the puppeteer enter into a strange, though passionate relationship. She later discovers that he is working on a new book about a woman who has an identical, though unrelated twin out in the world, of which she shares a deep connection. The closing image is her arriving at a farmhouse, touching an olive tree, to which her father inside appears to respond. It’s a fantastical narrative that so easily could have fallen under the weight of illogic; saved by the absolutely beautiful images captured in nearly each and every scene. My girlfriend came into the room ten minutes into the film, waiting for her friend to get ready. Knowing nothing about the story, she was fully hooked in within seconds, to which when her friend was ready to go she said she wanted to stay back to watch. Like the story, to list the images out seems grossly insufficient; where like a similar song or piece of art, you can’t describe the feeling it provides other than to experience them. It's a story that demands repeated viewings to better piece together the subtle details. At one point Veronique says, “All my life I've felt like I was here and somewhere else at the same time”; and I think most of us do the same. We see either the ideal self and what we could be fully capable of and the life it’d provide (as though a singer) and are drawn back into the reality of where we actually are (such as a music teacher). Given Kieślowski’s pessimistic philosophy, I’m left wondering if this film reflects the polarity; between the hope, joy, and purpose that creating art provides versus a world that mostly doesn’t care. In an interview, he said that in America he was amazed by “the pursuit of empty talk combined with a very high degree of self-satisfaction.” Out here in LA, it often seems more people are interested in the prestige or riches gained from making art than about exploring any particular ideas. The Double life of Veronique portrays these dualities - reality versus imagined, hope versus despair, success versus failure, love versus hate; showing the dangers of falling too far into either category, rather than accepting a little bit of both and welcoming the inevitable melancholy. BELOW: Now imagine this on BluRay and full sound; let alone the theater Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Badass Guy in Glasses Director: Stefano Sollima Writer: Taylor Sheridan Cinematographer: Dariusz Wolski Producer: Basil Iwanyk, Edward L. McDonnell, Molly Smith, Thad Luckinbill, and Trent Luckinbill by Jon Cvack When I heard they were making a Sicario sequel, I pictured the vast collection of Redbox straight to video action movies featuring 90s superstars. Looking it up as of writing this (July 2018), we got Bruce Willis in a movie called Acts of Violence (2018); Antonio Banderas in Acts of Vengeance (2017); Sylvester Stallone in Escape Room 2: Hades (2018); Nicholas Cage in The Humanity Bureau (2017); and that’s saying nothing for the half dozen B-star movies out there. Recently I discovered a Jarhead sequel called Jarhead 2: Field of Fire (2014) to then discover it’s actually now a trilogy with 2016’s Jarhead 3: The Siege. I do not know a single individual who watches or has ever watched these films without some degree of irony; as for the few times I’ve put them on in passing, I discovered movies so bad you can’t even laugh; created for no other purpose than to make a quick dollar on the video release. I was certain the Sicario sequel was destined for Redbox purgatory; receiving attention solely for its predecessor’s success. Then I heard that while Emily Blunt, Denis Villeneuve, and Roger Deakins were out, the production retained Benicio del Toro and Josh Brolin as Alejandro Gillick and Matt Graver, respectively along with the dorky, glasses-wearing badass, Steve Forsing (Jeffrey Donovan), while Catherine Keener and Matthew Modine were freshly worked into the narrative as Cynthia Ford (Graver's boss) and Secretary of Defense James Riley. What results is a pretty good sequel, reminiscent in style to Halloween 2 (1981); retaining the overall vibe, though with much larger set pieces. The film opens with a drone’s infrared camera looking down at the Texas/Mexico border where a bunch of migrants cross. The border patrol swarm into the area, surrounding the travelers and rounding them up into vans before a Muslim man says a prayer and blows himself up, killing a few of the officers. Shortly after, a group of Islamic terrorists enter a grocery store somewhere in middle America, blowing themselves up and killing two dozen or so patrons; including a mother and her daughter. American forces respond by brutally slaying a series of alleged terrorists and the CIA arrest a Somali pirate who has information on the terrorists. He’s taken into a bunker where three jugs of water lie on the ground. Graver says it’s not for waterboarding; they’re in a black site and Brolin is permitted to do whatever he wants. In this case, he has a drone in the sky locked on the man’s house where his family, including wife and children, are residing, and another locked on his brother’s car which is driving down a long desert road. Graver wants to know information about why the pirate would allow Islamic terrorists access to the shipping lanes. Per action movie convention, the man says he doesn’t know anything. Instead of some tense build up, Graver simply counts to three and the drone fires a pair of missiles into the house; killing everyone inside. He then turns to the brother and the man explains the situation, which I can’t at all remember; other than that it leads him to meet the Secretary of Defense James Riley (Matthew Modine) where the three discuss how cartels are allowing Islamic terrorists into the country in exchange for money; led by local coyotes who earn big money. Somehow the men agree to start a civil war between the competing Cartels for reasons I don’t understand and can’t seem to find out with a cursory search; other than that maybe they destroy each other and disrupt the business of smuggling in any terrorist over whatsoever. At fifteen minutes into the film, I started having my doubts. Beyond failing to follow what exactly was happening is the hyper amount of violence. We see a woman and child exploded, a half dozen alleged terrorists slaughtered without due process, and a suspect's family brutally slaughtered by the American government. What made the first work so well was that the graphic violence all operated within the realm of reality; motivated by what made sense from the situation rather than working its way back from the most violent scenes possible. However, once I somewhat understood the plot (i.e., cartels getting Islamic terrorists in through the southern border), the film recovers and offers scenes close to, and at a few moments, every bit as thrilling as the original. The film develops two subplots: 1) following a young Latino-American teenager Miguel Hernandez (Elijah Rodriguez) who’s cousin gets him a high paying job as a coyote; that is, to help with get migrant families and the terrorists across the border and 2) the daughter of one of the cartel’s top leaders, Isabel Reyes (Isabela Moner), who’s also introduced in a needlessly violent fistfight where she beats the shit out of a fellow student and is then sent to the principal's office where she reveals her immunity and is released untouched. The plan is simple, Graves hires his old crew, along with mercenary Alejandro Gillick (Benicio del Toro) to pose as a rival cartel member, kidnap Isabel, and kickstart the civil war. They carry out the plan, taking Isabel back to a safe house where a blindfolded Isabel is then “rescued” by American forces and taken back to a bunker for safety. Watching the police arrive at the crime scene where the kidnapping took place, the team finds the police killing the two bodyguards in cold blood; suggesting that a few might be on the cartel’s payroll. Not wanting to harm Isabel, the team loads up Isabel into a Humvee caravan to return her to the father (I assume saying they rescued her from the rival cartel) and so we get to the best scene of the movie; offering a thrilling and expertly crafted companion piece to the original’s highway scene. Taking inspiration from Children of Men (2006), the bulk of the scene is shot within the car, cutting on occasion to the drone’s POV that follows the invaders. They’re escorted by local police units across the border and into rural Mexico and within a mile or so, they’re attacked by RPG’s. The drone takes them out, but then the police, bookending the caravan, stop and turn their weapons on the escort; attempting to murder the Americans. While I’m not sure what the police were hoping to accomplish by killing American CIA members who’re in armored Humvees, the shootout was one of the better offered in recent years. Isabel escapes, and again logic’s a bit faulty in somehow she is able to run away without anyone noticing, far enough so that at the end of the five minutes or so sequence, they somehow can’t see her running up a hill; leaving Gillick to volunteer to go and find her. With it now looking like the operatives slaughtered a bunch of Mexican Police, both Riley and one of the CIA commanders Cynthia Foard calls the mission off, refusing to rescue Isabel and draw the government further into the mess. I’m not sure why the Americans feared looking guilty when the Mexican police clearly opened fire on them, or why they’d be willing to forego saving Isabel, but Graves nevertheless tells Gillick to abort; to which Gillick (whose own family was slaughtered by cartels) refuses. They end up meeting up with Miguel the coyote, but with the transporters tied up with a rival cartel, the coyotes quickly figure out who they are; attempting to murder Gillick and providing one of the most ridiculous, but somehow kind of badass moments of the film; reminiscent of classical action cinema and crafted in a way that pulls it off. It provided one of the most visceral reactions I’ve ever experienced in the theater. Taylor Sheridan has been on a hot streak since Sicario (2015), releasing one hit script after another - writing Hell and Higher Water (2016), nominated for a Best Screenplay Oscar; writing and directing Wind River (2017); writing and directing the television drama “Yellowstone” and now this. All three films take a grueling look at the American West; examining a moderately conservative view of a deteriorating world. Hell and High Water showed a crumbling, even dystopian, small-town America; scrounging to return to its former glory while fighting against a system that keeps it down. Wind River portrayed a pair of white heroes within an oppressed Native American community; making the same mistake of most Southern White Savior with films such as A Time to Kill (1996), Mississippi Burning (1988) and Green Book (2019) which focused on white characters fighting for the African American community rather than showing the African American community fend for itself. Similar to both Sicario, Day of the Soldado focuses on a hyper-violent view of the world; in which strength, aggression, and an abandonment of due process makes things right; portraying borders no longer as destinations where those in refuge flee for opportunity, but rather where terrorists thrive, ready to blow up grocery stores and kill Americans; emboldening American fears. Similar to the first, Matt Graves possesses a strange sadistic pleasure in the lawless mission, and the action is thrilling enough for us to remain engaged. And yet when the film ends, I’m left wondering what it’s essentially trying to say beyond support for this philosophy; as ultimately, it’s going rogue that ultimately leads to triumph (even so far as Gillick going to rescue Isabel). On the other hand, there’s a more cynical view of the film. Perhaps Sheridan is trying to show the dangers and brutality of going to the extremes, which might work if the violence wasn’t so glorified and satisfying. Similar to his other work, there’s an acknowledgment of a legitimate and unjust problem, posing a solution that demands violent intervention. While it makes for entertaining action cinema, I’m not sure the outcome is what we’d ever actually want, or need to see in real life. BELOW: Close to as good of a scene as the original Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Maybe about a third of 2.5 hour running time is spent at this table; watching two people eat Director: Béla Tarr and Ágnes Hranitzky Writer: László Krasznahorkai and Béla Tarr Cinematographer: Fred Kelemen Producer: Gábor Téni I had never even heard of Bela Tarr up until about six or seven years ago when I watched Damnation (1987), providing that rare experience of a filmmaker providing an incomparable experience. He is, hands down, the most underrated filmmaker to ever live and I have no idea how or why so few know about the guy (though it’s obviously changing). With Damnation, I knew I was watching a near perfect film within seconds; watching as a long dolly shot tracked from the image of a ski lift, moving back through a window and further to a man staring out. Often when we think of long takes we imagine steadicams (Boogie Nights (1997), Children of Men (2006), Goodfellas (1990),) or cranes (Rope (1948), Touch of Evil (1958)), always moving and following characters. Rare is it for a long take to focus upon the composition, using a subtle movement in order to reframe an object or subject again and again and again. I attempted this exact style with the post-intro opening office shot in my film Road to the Well (2016); starting in a close up on our lead and pulling out to reveal the office where other subjects came in. While I think I was miles from Tarr (attempting to balance too much performance, exposition, and utilize an underwhelming set design), it set up a challenge I can’t get out of my head. Bela Tarr wouldn’t remain married to this format, but many of these subtle moves provide the images that have burned into my mind. Of the circus in Werckmeister Harmonies (2001) and I believe doing a Godard Weekend-type parallel dolly shot) to Damnation’s wide, locked master that shot across a fog laden town square where some subjects ever so gradually come into focus. His films provide the feeling of a dream, though never the surrealism; committed to finding the most beautiful and often haunting images possible. The last time I attempted to watch The Turin Horse was in my parent’s basement while home for Christmas a few years back. It’s two hours later in Chicago and my parents go to bed around 8 or 9pm, meaning by 6 or 7pm LA time, I’m in a dark, empty house with everyone asleep and the only good television located in a dark and cold basement. Being home always provides that strange anxiety that most people I know from LA experience when going home. There’s a kind of regression to the teenage mind mixed with an emptiness in knowing there are few friends to call, fewer that are close enough to meet, and suddenly you recall the feeling that made you leave; of absolute and nearly unbearable boredom. The Turin Horse opens by describing it takes moments after Nietzsche's infamous episode of throwing himself upon a horse as its owner whipped it; followed by a devastating depression where he went mute until his death from both dementia and series of strokes. I had written my senior philosophy thesis on Nietzsche and his idea of the ubermensch; in which he envisioned the perfect life being composed of a healthy pursuit of creativity, knowledge, and physical well being (the definition of “health” being the purpose of the paper). My first philosophy teacher is the one who piqued my interest in Nietzsche, and similar to what seems like a third or so of aspiring philosophy students, he’s the one that made me want to major in the subject. Nietzsche is a type of public figure that most people have a strong negative opinion about without knowing much of anything about his work; diminished to both the myth of the horse and his “God is dead” declaration ("The Sopranos" would explore both of these points). One of the best descriptions I’ve heard of the man is that he was as much a cultural critic as he was a philosopher; looking to the world around him and taking all he saw in order to create his own ideas about morality, purpose, art, and spirituality. The movie opens up moments after the horse episode, following the animal as it pulls a wagon, reigned by the stableman (János Derzsi) as they wade through a strong wind. An eerie string cello score plays over and we watch the man head down the seemingly endless path, until he arrives at his lone cabin in the middle of the field, catching every bit of the wind’s wrath. His daughter (Erika Bók ) puts the horse away and boils him a couple of russet potatoes, which the man sprinkles with a bit of salt, scarfing it down, eating only half and then heads to bed; all while a chilling draft cuts through the cabin. The next day the stableman wakes, takes two shots of vodka, removes the horse from the table, the daughter helps him saddle it up, and he heads to town again. He then returns and repeats the process. The story then goes on for another two days, where nothing more than the neighbor stopping by for some alcohol breaks up the action; continuing on for nearly the entire two and a half hour running time. Each movement is captured in its grueling banality and nearly unbearable pace, going on for over thirty minutes. While we know little about the characters, we see that, in terms of capturing their lives, we’re witnessing the most exciting moments. The image of moving back to my hometown rolled through my brain; of having to take an equally menial entry level job, commuting downtown, and repeating it over and over with only two weeks vacation to spare. The combination was so overwhelming that I could not bring myself to continue or even finish the film during the first viewing years ago; possibly the only time in my life where I wanted to finish a film but just couldn’t bring myself to. Letting my reaction bake for a little over a week since finishing this on my second attempt, I realize that Tarr was exploring the very world that Nietzsche feared most. Recently a filmmaker friend of mine on Facebook talked about how many Americans are raised in homes without any exposure to art; especially as art-itself has become so politically politicized. They are raised to think that success is to make money and have a house, car, good job, and family; all the ideas raised in other existential films, from Fight Club (1999) to Wild Strawberries (1957). However, Tarr abandoned the grand philosophical diatribes and conversations, instead focusing on a world absent of art and culture; where the whole mission is about having a shot of tasteless alcohol to get you through the workday, make a little money to eat potatoes with salt, go to sleep, and repeat. There are no books, instruments, or even anything to look at; nothing to talk about and nothing to hear but the oppressive wind. It’s easy to extend this routine to most lives, poor to middle class to rich; to exist for no other reason than to keep yourself alive, rather than enriching the soul through education or art or activity or experiences. It creates the paradoxical feeling that although life is the same day to day, time flies by; simply because the mind cannot separate one year to the next; no book, movie, conversation, or creative endeavor to define its chapters. If I had to make a list of films I would never want to watch alone at night, from the fucked up to the unsettling, this would be near the top. It’s terrifying in a way I’ve never experienced. BELOW: The opening scene, which we'll see again and again and again Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A battle between preparation and Murphy's Law Director: Bart Layton Writer: Bart Layton Cinematographer: Ole Bratt Birkeland Producer: Derrin Schlesinger, Katherine Butler, Dimitri Doganis, and Mary Jane Skalski by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... The story makes national headlines and we know there’s only moments before the police catch on. Still they take the books to a collector in New York, where we can see the assessor immediately knows who they are and what they’re selling. She explains that they can’t provide an estimate for a few days. And while Warren and Spencer try to remain calm, they can’t help but essentially beg that they pay whatever the books are worth. The four are busted moments later, told in a beautiful and haunting montage; perfectly capturing the essence of inevitability with each character distraught by the certainty of waiting for the police, until they finally arrive. In the end, each character offers their closing thoughts on the situation; on whether or not Warren ever actually met up with hoodlums in Amsterdam, or if he even went there at all. They were sentenced and served extended prison times, released around 2008. Chas has become a personal trainer in Los Angeles, while Eric pursues writing in Los Angeles, having penned a version of their story; taking a sharp turn from his criminal justice path (though I’m unsure whether he was involved in this film’s development). Coincidentally, Warren has re-enrolled in college to study filmmaking, making you wonder how far he’ll get with his con artistry. Spencer remains in his small town, making a living as an artist who now focuses on paintings of birds. There’s something about the fact that three of the four have decided to pursue the arts, taking me back to my initial thoughts on the film’s title. Throughout the story we hear how each character was hoping for something more in life; that no matter the privilege they had (whether success, education, or athleticism), there was something missing. What’s most fascinating is that for all their knowledge, planning, and consumption of heist movies, they were unable to anticipate even the smallest obstacles. How come they never checked the basement? Or if they checked it, did they not notice the possibility of a locked gate? How did they expect to get an estimate for the art from a legitimate source, knowing that the heist would make the news? And for that matter, if Warren was lying about the Amsterdam hoodlums, why did he think it was a good idea to get an estimate from them; or was this just another element of Googling an answer? Why was there a fight about Spencer’s voicemail giving them away rather than that the dealers would inevitably call the police? I can’t help thinking there was a desire to get caught (perhaps subconsciously); to avoid thinking about the obvious or taking the serious questions all that seriously as it would make the situation all the more real. Like them, I too felt something was missing in life during college; convinced that a traditional life trajectory would be unfulfilling. The idealism acquired when learning about such thinkers as Marx, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Camus and others is quickly diluted in the real world; as great and meaningful as it is to pursue a creative path, doing so a risk often reserved for privileged people; those who don’t know what it’s like to face constant and seemingly endless failure and rejection, job insecurity, and devastating hours. Most are convinced that they’re the exceptions and wunderkinds; who’ll somehow hit the fast track and fly by others who’ve been working their crafts for years and years. American Animals embodies this idea. It’s about four kids who, although en route to respectable and possibly successful careers, wanted to get there faster. They didn’t know what they didn’t know; that beyond their relatively perfect lives, Murphy’s Law operates at full force, and it’s only through experience that you’re able to deal with those problems. They were little more than animals, straying just a bit further from the nest, confident that they could achieve greatness and riches without effort. To think three of them have gone onto to pursue the arts makes you wonder how they’ll handle those challenges; or if they’ll discover the sad and often unspoken American truth - that the vast majority fail in their artistic pursuits, destined to live humble and seemingly ordinary lives that they initially all resented. Then again, a great movie was created about their story which will live on forever, so maybe they did achieve something. BELOW: Youthful idealism at its worst Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Not nearly as goofy as it looks Director: Bart Layton Writer: Bart Layton Cinematographer: Ole Bratt Birkeland Producer: Derrin Schlesinger, Katherine Butler, Dimitri Doganis, and Mary Jane Skalski by Jon Cvack American Buffalo (1996), American Pastoral (2016), American Beauty (1999), American Gangster (2007), American Psycho (2000), American Gods (2017), "American Crime" ('15-'17), American Pie (1999), American Made (2017), American Sniper (2014), American Fable (2016), and now American Animals. This is perhaps just a third of all the movies that begin with the prefix. I’m not sure what makes writers and filmmakers whether it’s a safe, less inspired, or more straight forward/descriptive choice (Gangster, Made, or Sniper), or that it captures a much broader idea about the country and where it is (Beauty, Fable, Pastoral). With six of these title types rolling out in the last five years alone - I’ve grown suspicious about the prefix. If the production couldn’t agree on an inspired title how could they agree on creating an inspired film? Combined with a heist plot which hasn’t offered much refreshment in the last decade, I figured American Animals was going to provide another overdeveloped genre piece; until I started seeing the response on Facebook and decided to check it out. The film involves the true story of four college students who plotted to steal some highly valuable rare books from the University of Kentucky library. Made by the The Imposter’s (2012) Bart Layton - a documentary which followed the story of a con man who convinced a Texas family that he was their relative. American Animals takes on a similar structure, interviewing the four actual men involved: Warren Lipka (Evan Peters), Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan), Chas Allen (Blake Jenner), and Eric Borsuk (Jared Abrahamson) as they recount the story and explain why they did what they did. The story centers on Spencer, who’s an aspiring artist studying at the University of Kentucky, in which Barry Keogha provides an incredible follow up to The Killing of a Sacred Deer. Spencer finds little meaning in life, hoping to accomplish something extraordinary that can leave some degree of impact on the world. His best friend is Warren Lipka, who’s on an athletic scholarship at a neighboring school, pushed on by his parents rather than his own interest. Evan Peters puts on a phenomenal foil against Koegha as a severe pothead and alcoholic who’s also searching for some purpose to this life. When Keogha learns that his college library is in possession of a $12 million book of original paintings by John James Audubon and mentions the piece to Warren, the two decide to try and plan a heist to steal the book. The style at this point first refers to Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002), utilizing a similarly fast and unreliable narrator(s) as each participant explains their version of the story. The pace is rapid, and while often used to try and cover a weaker story (like the American prefix), it creates a thrilling momentum, pulling you along like it did to those involved, asking enough questions to make you hungry what’s next. As the actual Spencer says, the idea never functioned as something that could actually happen so much as something that would soon reach its limits. However, as the pair researched the library, charting exits and entrances, when employees arrive and leave, how they could grab the painting and escape, the plan becomes increasingly plausible; culminating when Warren allegedly travels to Amsterdam in order to meet with some hoodlums who could sell the paintings for a cost. They settle on providing Warren and Spencer with around a third of the selling price - $4 million- though they will need to find a dealer to provide an official estimate and confirmation of the piece. By this point the most obvious questions are - how they expect to enter a building with security cameras and people everywhere and how they expect to find a dealer who would approve the piece when the theft inevitably makes the headlines. In near perfect timing, Warren addresses one of the points, requesting that they bring on his former best friend Eric Borsuk who’s a guy allegedly good at logistics, played by Jared Abrahamson who somehow feels more real than the actual Eric Borsuk; embodying the spirit of a stoic overall cool guy who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks and just wants to join the FBI as quickly as possible; all the more fascinating when he’s willing to throw all that away for a million dollars. While I’m not entirely sure what his purpose was other than to provide some insight into how to pull it all off, the movie also suggests that in the spirit of camaraderie, Warren brought him in simply to rekindle a friendship where, like them, Eric craved some excitement. Throughout the planning phase, they consume as many heist movies as they can, going so far back as Kubrick’s The Killing (1956); hoping that each film can help reveal a hole that they’re failing to see. This leads to them realizing they need a driver, recruiting a local entrepreneurial wunderkind Chas Allen who started his first business at the age of sixteen and has found success ever since; again, searching for grander meaning to his life. Between the recruitment and planning is a fantastic bond between the characters, where perhaps not since Swingers (1996) have a band of friends felt so genuine. They choose color names, with Chas pissed he gets Mr. Pink, addressing the fact that they’re stealing from the movie, knowing that it shouldn’t matter because they all know each other, and yet doing so because they know it’s a simple solution toward preserving anonymity. It’s a scene that could so easily have felt hackneyed and yet it’s the dynamic between the characters that pulls it all off. The day arrives and they’ve agreed to dress up like old men requesting to see the art collection. The library is managed by the nascent and exciting Betty Jean Gooch (Ann Dowd; who I previously saw in Hereditary (2018) and am hoping will be this generation’s Kathy Bates). While I was still unsure about the cameras, the disguises were simple enough. They were going to tase the librarian, steal the art, and then leave; hoping no one suspects the students. In one of the most thrilling sequences - all the more impressive for how absurd it actually is - Chas picks up a minivan and they head on over. In a great scene, the actual Spencer explains how he kept hoping up until that point that it was all just an exercise in seeing if they could do it; hoping that as they got closer they would all realize how absurd the idea actually was. And yet it never comes - Spencer keeps lookout, Chas stays behind the wheel, while Warren and Eric head upstairs. Eric sees extra people in the library, freaks out, and they abort. But it doesn’t end. They decide to go back, abandoning the old people costumes, instead playing slicked up versions of themselves with the same division of labor. Warren approaches the library entrance, dressed in a suit, and she lets him inside. With tension piercing through the screen, Warren walks around the room, pretending to be an art collector. He looks as young as he is (though Peters was 30 at the time of filming), immediately gaining the librarian’s suspicions and then Warren invites Eric upstairs; who’s expecting to find her knocked out and the painting ready to move. Instead she buzzes him in, and as we’re wondering whether this is even going to happen, Warren tases her. She falls to the ground and pisses her pants, scared out of her mind; fully awake and clearly in pain. For the first time, both of them grasp the severity of what they’re doing and the consequences they face. Nevertheless, they steal the painting, along with an original Darwin and other rare books, both not part of the plan. They head down the elevator, planning to escape out the basement and discovering a locked gate. They head back upstairs, exiting on the second floor and taking the staircase down, dropping the paintings, keeping the two rare books, and head out the main entrance to the library where dozens can see them. The front desk clerk calls the cops. Chas picks them up, leaving Spencer behind who watches the disaster unfold. The police arrive and find has abandoned the van for a different car. Continue to Part 2... BELOW: A scene that should play cheap but doesn't Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Kurt Russell always plays a great boss Director: Peter Berg Writer: Matthew Michael Carnahan and Matthew Sand; Deepwater Horizon's Final Hours[1] by David Barstow, David Rohde, and Stephanie Saul Cinematography: Enrique Chediak Producer: Lorenzo di Bonaventura, Mark Vahradian, Mark Wahlberg, Stephen Levinson, and David Womark by Jon Cvack This is one of a handful of films that I never got to write about; residing at the bottom of a long backlog of films I had to write about, which by the time I cleared, I had forgotten all of the details. I had loved the film, seeing it as a successful throwback to the 90s disaster porn era when films balanced their reliance on digital versus practical effects. Some might complain about embellishment or exploitation, and there would be legitimate points to be made, but I assume most of them would appreciate having a document that will forever commemorate one of the most extreme industrial disasters of modern times and that the largest possible audience would get to see what happened. The film opens up with one of the few digital-looking shots of the film, traveling through an underwater oil pipeline where the mechanics are starting to fail. Chief Electronics Technician Mike Williams (Mark Wahlberg) wakes from the dream next to his wife Felicia Williams (Kate Hudson), heading to the kitchen where his daughter is working on a school project about what her father does for a living. Mike and his crew do not actually drill for any oil. They prepare the rig for drilling. In this case, laying down cement to ensure against any leaks and pumping any excess mud out. Mike demonstrates this by poking a hole into the beer can with a straw and then dumping honey into the straw. Moments later, the soda can explodes and a massive stream of coke flows out. Aside from whether Mike knew it’d make a mess, the demonstration provides a creative exposition and avoids having the technical facts weighing down the momentum. What’s lately been missing from Hollywood non-franchise blockbusters is a reliance on the image to create the world. In this case we follow Mike as he crosses the Atchafalaya Basin Bridge, where the swamps extend as far as the eye can see. He arrives at a helicopter transport facility where we then get to meet some of his crew; including Andrea Fleytas (Gina Rodriguez) as the rig’s time operator (it’s a floating rig, requiring the operator to constantly preserve the ship's position) and his boss James "Mr. Jimmy" Harrell (Kurt Russell). They fly out, discovering a crew of safety inspectors hopping back into the helicopters, explaining to Mr. Jimmy that the BP reps canceled the latest pressure test to ensure that the concrete would hold for drilling. BP’s team is led by Robert Kaluza (Brad Leland) and Donald Vidrine (John Malkovich; giving one of his finest performances of the decade) who have grown frustrated that there’s been a 40-day delay due to safety regulations. While a $300 billion-dollar company, they simply don't want to spend $150,000 on another test; a point Mr. Jimmy raises, going on to say that his responsibility is to the crew and ship BP is renting from the company. They head down to the drill site where a bunch of young twenty-somethings work in clean bright red uniforms, preparing for the next test. They run it and the pressure signals it’s far past the safety levels. However, Donald Vidrine challenges the theory, believing the fact that there’s no mud being pushed out (per the soda can) indicates that rocks and debris have likely plugged the hole, causing the pressure as a result. He demands they run the test on the kill line. While doubtful of the logic, Mr. Jimmy agrees, who’s then taken away by Robert Kaluza to be awarded a safety prize. Robert gets a couple of snapshots, and while never specified, it seems to serve as an insurance policy in the event of a disaster; that is, if something happened, it’d be the fault of the award-winning Mr. Jimmy. The kill line shows minimal pressure, indicating that it looks good to pump the mud out. Mr. Jimmy approves and so they begin and within moments the massive pressure of rocks, mud, and oil explode out of the well. The fumes work their way into the air ducts which triggers an explosion throughout the ship when the well catches fire. The crew attempts to evacuate as Andrea tries to maintain control of the ship; wishing to cut the line and stopped by one of the Deepwater Horizon crew managers who clearly doesn’t want to lose his deep-pocketed employer. Mike goes on to save Jimmy and they join up with Andrea; trying to slice the line and release the rig, which fails, leaving them all to have to abandon ship. While the closing moments were a bit heavy on the special effects (I wonder how much they embellished), the second half’s action sequences are as good as any disaster porn action movie. It’s a film that attempts to explain what happened while demonstrating the nightmarish consequences of greed and its unregulated consequences. I appreciate the story being told from Mike and his crew’s perspective, in that while still participating in offshore drilling, they were also the ones trying to make it as safe as possible in order to avoid potential disaster. Deepwater Horizon provides that old fashioned summertime blockbuster experience. BELOW: One of John Malkovich's best roles from the decade Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Cool hat Director: Debra Granik Writer: Debra Granik and Anne Rosellini; My Abandonment by Peter Rock Cinematographer: Michael McDonough Producer: Anne Harrison, Linda Reisman, and Anne Rosellini by Jon Cvack I haven’t seen Winter’s Bone (2010) since it came out; remembering little beyond Jennifer Lawrence being introduced into the world and that it shot someday for night exteriors that didn’t look awful. I was surprised to see she hasn’t made a narrative film since, only coming out with the war documentary Stray Dogs (2014). Captain Fantastic was my favorite film from 2016, though I hadn't seen until well into the next year due to its cover looking like a Wes Anderson knock off and it’s title sounding like a superhero movie. Instead, for those who haven’t seen it, it's a brilliant and profound film about a man who raised his children deep in the woods of Washington; providing them with a progressive view of the world, mostly inspired by Noam Chomsky and his philosophy. What worked so well about the film was its abandonment of quirky irony. It showed intelligent characters making rational choices within an otherwise extraordinary situation; adding just enough humor and heart to pull people into the ideas who would otherwise have no interest or care. Leave No Trace embraces a similar plot. Ben Foster plays military veteran Will who’s struggling with severe PTSD, living in the woods where he cares for his daughter Tom (Thomasin McKenzie). The two have half a tent set up in the Portland Woods, cooking fresh mushrooms over the fire until it rains and they're forced to use the propane tank stove. They buy the little supplies they have via Will visiting the Veterans Association, getting some Rx psychotropic drugs, then hawking them in a nearby park where other homeless veterans live. They go to the grocery store, buy the bare essentials, and then return back to the woods. Park Rangers soon discover the pair, bringing along a social worker who takes in Tom while Will is tested for any psychological disorders. Foster took on the part at a perfect time in his career; as for someone whose other characters are often volatile time bombs, I kept expecting Will’s calm demeanor to snap loose and discharge a torrent of anger. Instead, he remains calm, too smart to make that type of mistake. Tom and Will are placed in a nice, though under furnished trailer home on the property of a wealthy tree farmer, Mr. Walters (Jeff Kober). While Will wants to work in the stables, Mr. Walters says that Will has to work his way into a job like that, as right now he needs the trees packed. Will begins and Tom explores the community, coming across a farmer around her age and his bunny rabbit. Later he invites her to 4H where she meets more kids her age from the community; along with a way of taking what she knew about modest living and share it with potential friends. Will grows tired of the situation; resenting that he has to eat another man’s food, live in another man's place, use things he doesn’t own, and do a menial job that’s the same task day after day. While we never get any reason and philosophy behind the action it’s clear there’s something comparable to Captain Fantastic; not stealing the idea so much exploring similar territory. Will is returning from a war which has deeply affected his mental state, and the classic relief of wife, house, kid, and buying a bunch of stuff just won’t provide the answer to what he requires. He leaves the tree farm, not even asking Tom what she wants to do and she trails along, devastated that she has to leave a place that was starting to feel like home. By now, Will has no idea where he wants to go, catching a ride up North where they’re dropped off in the middle of the upstate Washington woods as the temperature approaches freezing. Tom’s boots are soaked and her feet are on the verge of getting frostbite. Soon they find a cabin, but with no food left, Will heads out, not returning for days, until Tom goes to look for him, finding him unconscious at the bottom of a hill; his leg broken. Will finds some help, ending up at an idyllic trailer park community, full of loving and empathetic people who help Will recover. The hippie people are likely on the opposite side of the political spectrum from Will and yet we see that they too have a culture and bond they hope to retain; not wanting Will to attract any trouble. Tom falls in love with the place, not wanting to leave, which of course, once healed, is the first thing Will wants to do. Writing this, the film is a combination of The Road (2009), Into the Wild (2007), and Captain Fantastic (2016); melding man’s need to be free with the bond between a daughter and father who’re always on the move in search of a peace he cannot find. Discussing the plot, I’m having the strange experience of liking the story more than the movie. Without the substance of the others, there’s a slowness to it all, recovering during the last third when they reach the trailer community. I was also left unsure of how Will retained custody of Tom, or how long it’s been going on for. I believe I heard something about a mom passing away, but I kept wondering how that event led to them being homeless. Then again, maybe it was the final factor and they’ve only been homeless for a bit and it’s all brand new rather than long term. It’s a film that almost demands seeing it with another person; to bounce off ideas and see what a conversation can lead to. BELOW: We'd go on to see Thomasin MacKenzie knock it out of the park in 2020's JoJo Rabbit Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Prescient Red Hats Director: Tony Scott Writer: Michael Schiffer and Quentin Tarantino (uncredited); story by Michael Schiffer and Richard P. Henrick Cinematographer: Dariusz Wolski Producer: Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer by Jon Cvack I was certain that I had written on this movie, prepared to offer a “Second Viewing” take, only to discover that I must have confused this movie with its twin, The Hunt for Red October (1990). I’ve seen the film twice prior, far later in life than I should have, serving as one of the few twin films which is every bit as competitive as its sibling. Crimson Tide is perhaps the perfect metaphor for our state of politics; displaying the tribal politics we’re experiencing all the way down to the red hat. After Russian rebels capture a nuclear facility, intent on using the weapons should either the American or Russian government provoke him, the Americans launch a fleet of nuclear submarines, led by the USS Alabama, commanded by Captain Frank Ramsey (Gene Hackman). Having recently lost his Commanding Officer (XO), he recruits the help of Anapolis and Harvard grad Commander Ron Hunter (Denzel Washington). From the get go, we see the power struggle between the men. Ramsey comes from the old school, believing that success comes from doing the job as given to you rather than sycophancy; relying more on his intuition from this experience than any grand theories. He resents Ramsey’s education, believing it expedited his success and that relying too heavily on analytics endangers the mission. Nevertheless, with only a “short list” of possibilities, he takes Ramsey on. Ramsey’s best friend is Weapons Officer Lieutenant Peter Ince (Viggo Mortensen) who’s in control of the missile system; joined by a band of other Lieutenants, including James Gandolfini as Supplies Officer Robert Dorsey. It was on this viewing - and likely because of the ongoing debate about race in America - that I noticed Dorsey’s first action in ordering a black private to answer a bit of obscure submarine movie trivia, which the private clearly has no clue about, then forcing him to do push ups in the middle of the bus as punishment In traditional Tony Scott fashion, we get a grand set piece of the rain pouring down as the men fall into formation before boarding the submarine beyond, next to a ship where welding sparks fly down like a waterfall. Ramsey heads to a microphone and provides an inspirational speech, explaining how urgent their mission is. Once aboard, we’re immersed into the labyrinthian and claustrophobic corridors, washed with bold blues and reds and an omnipresent haze. The officers assemble in the meal hall, and Ramsey and Hunter engage in their first debate; in this case about the ethics of using nuclear weapons. They debate Carl von Clausewitz’s famous declaration that, “War is politics by other means.” Hunter believes that it is simply an extension of what politicians cannot resolve while Ramsey believes it was speaking to the fact that war is rarely the appropriate choice; and in an age of nuclear war, there is never an appropriate occasion to use them. After a freak fire bursts out in the kitchen, Ramsey races to help put it out. Moments later, and with one of the men fatally injured, Hunter carries out a launch exercise; during which the injured sailor dies. Ramsey questions whether the exercise was appropriate, to which Hunter says it was the perfect time for the exercise, offering the film’s second great debate for an after viewing drink. On the one hand, Ramsey is right that they should have taken care of the man first before doing an exercise, while Hunter makes a good point in that the men should be prepared at all possible moments, even when inopportune. Later, they receive an Emergency Action Message, ordering them to launch ten nuclear missiles. With a Russian submarine spotted and approaching their position, they dive, receiving another message that gets cut off when they lose radio signal. Ramsey believes it might be a retraction to the order, but Hunter doesn’t buy it; ordering his men to commence the launch. At the time, to launch a nuclear weapon required the approval of both the Captain and Commanding Officer. In front of the men, Ramsey refuses to acquiesce. Hunter attempts to have him detained and replaced with someone who will carry out the orders (remind you of anyone?), but Ramsey cites Naval Law, flipping the detainment order to Hunter’s friend and Chief of the Boat (George Dzundza) who takes Hunter in, simply for the sake of preserving order. So begins a thrilling second act as Ramsey commands the ship, trying to take out the Russian sub, and attempts to repair the radio. The tribal politics rule as a mixture of racism and camaraderie cause the men to pick sides; complicated when Ramsey’s friend Peter decides to work with the mutiny. In the end, while Hunter and Ramsey and their respective factions stand at arms against each other, and the radio is repaired and we wait for the message to come in, Hunter goes full racist, asking Ramsey about his equestrian hobby and how a particular Portugal horse - the best in the world - is an entirely “white breed”; to which Ramsey replies that he’s actually wrong and that the horses are black. The message comes in, saying the Russian Rebels have been taken out and they should abort the launch. Later, as both men stand before a tribunal, we learn that Hunter has both retired and requested that Ramsey be given control of his own ship. Hunter’s red hat was a particularly interesting element in today’s political landscape. While politics are never mentioned, it’s clear where both Ramsey and Hunter reside on the spectrum. We see that the crew is allegiant to their commander’s philosophy rather than to the logic of their actions. Some join Hunter because of his instinctual, mighty style, and preservation of racial structure; others join Ramsey because he shows compassion, deliberation, and an overall concern for the lives of men beyond the lust for power. What makes the story work so well is ensuring that Hunter is as comparably complex as Ramsey. While initially made out to be a might-makes-right Sea Captain, we discover that, although wrong in this case, most of his actions and theories do operate within at least some degree of reasonability. In the end, rather than being the villain we expect him to be, we see a man of honor who was willing to concede that he was wrong and able to accept defeat. If only Trump could give it a watch. BELOW: Great scene with Tarantino's flavor all over it Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Josh Safdie Writer: Josh Safdie and Eleonore Hendricks; Josh Safdie, Andy Spade, and Anthony Sperduti Cinematographer: Brett Jutkiewicz Producer: Brett Jutkiewicz, Sam Lisenco, Zach Treitz, and Josh Safdie by Jon Cvack NOTE: I wrote this about 18 months ago before seeing either Good Time (2017), or of course, Uncut Gems (2019). I had received Good Time (2018) from Netflix, reading about it on a few lists and watching a couple of interviews with the filmmakers. I started it up and so began the type of movie where within ten seconds I knew I was watching something incredible; so much so that I turned the film off, wanting to watch it with my girlfriend, finding it on Amazon Prime and returning the disc; never syncing up with my girlfriend as we were still trying to get through the last five Sopranos episodes. I’m approaching an age where my generation of filmmakers are starting to come to fruition. Ari Aster’s Hereditary (2018) served as a fantastic debut from the 30-year-old filmmaker, 32-year-old Damien Chazelle is at the top of Hollywood with Whiplash and LaLa Land, and I’m now discovering that the 32-year-old Safdie’s have just released their fifth feature. They have a fascinating though mysterious story in that after graduating from Boston University, they were approached by Partner & Spade to create a commercial. They were provided a $200,000 budget, in which they produced the commercial for 10% of that and took the rest to make The Pleasure of Being Robbed, opting to shoot on film and making you understand how they spent a $180,000 on a 65-minute mumblecore film. It would premiere at SXSW and win the Grand Jury Prize, and so their careers were launched. The Pleasure of Being Robbed is about a kleptomaniac Eléonore (Eleonore Hendricks) who wanders the streets of New York, stealing people's purses and bags. In the opening scene, she approaches a random woman on the street, acting like they know each other, hugs her and say they should hang out, before walking off, bag in hand. I get the feeling that this was actually a random woman they approached rather than an actor, which is genius. She then steals a man from Fifth Avenue’s bag as his doorman helps him unload the car, taking it back to her apartment along with a bag full of kittens. Later she steals some grapes from a fruit stand and somewhere between all this, she plays in a ping pong parlor. We then get into the meat of the story when she steals a pair of Volvo car keys and bumps into an old friend Josh (Josh Safdie) who helps her track down the car and drive her home. They spend the night together and she leaves the next day, heading to a park where she conspicuously snoops through a mother’s apartment who screams for help. Eléonore gets arrested and the cops stop at a zoo where she begs them to let her visit for ten minutes, which for some reason one of the cop grants, gets booked and then released and that’s it. The Pleasure of Being Robbed came out at the peak of mumblecore, offering a story that’s more of a slice of life, in which a shaky camera and mumbling characters are combined into a meandering narrative; often excused when compared to the New Wave or Rossellini's post-war work, as though just because it’s rough, shaky, and handheld with no plot, there’s a need to celebrate it. While Eléonore was an interesting character, I knew no more going into the film than coming out. I’m not sure what I was supposed to learn other than that there are some weird people out there with complex personalities. It’s not a bad movie, it just blends in with all other mumblecore filmmakers - early Duplass brothers, Joe Swanberg, and Andrew Bujalski. Few of their films are bad, but many of them blend together; in which it’s more about individual images and moments than the grand narrative or style. Perhaps that’s the point. If pressed, given their down to Earth personalities and humor, it almost feels like the Safdie's pulled a fast one on the film world; to make us think we were watching something heavy and profound, when it was all meant to be meaningless. Then again, when I'm pulling the credits, I notice Benny's name is not on any of the film, so maybe he was the missing ingredient. BELOW: Weird though prescient scene of where the Safdie's would go Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Van Gogh's last painting; a scene At Eternity's Gate opted to leave out Director: Vincente Minnelli Writer: Norman Corwin; Lust for Life by Irving Stone Cinematography: Russell Harlan and F. A. Young Producer: John Houseman by Jon Cvack Days before seeing this I finished Herman Hesse’s "Goldmund and Narcissus" (1930). It’s the best piece of fiction I’ve read all year, exploring a young and promising student, Goldmund, who enrolls in a monastery where he befriends the equally intelligent Narcissus. When the two abandon campus one night, Goldmund comes across a beautiful Gypsy girl who kisses Goldmund, igniting an uncontrollable desire, soon causing him to abandon the cloister in order to pursue the girl and enter into a life of Apollonian proportions - centered around the pursuit of art, lust, and love. Throughout the story is a comparison of the sacrifices required of a religious monk versus that of being an artist; namely, that both pursuits often require poverty, obedience, and discipline. I had no idea of the similarities between "Goldmund and Narcissus" and Lust for Life before going in, serving as yet another coincidental pairing previously seen in The Major and the Minor followed by Claire’s Knee. Vincente Minnelli and George Cukor’s Lust for Life follows Vincent Van Gogh (Kirk Douglas) who possesses a similar commitment to his craft. Like Goldmund, he too wanted to enter the monastery. However, his rebellious persona seems at odds with the church authorities, and before kicking him out, they decide to place him in a poor mining community as one last chance to prove himself. There he discovers a terrifying world full of child labor and unregulated industry that claims lives by the day. Van Gogh is horrified by the conditions, refusing the money provided by the church in order to live a life similar to the community; sleeping on hay in a cold and damp shack and eating watered-down gruel that provides the bare minimum of sustenance. During the time, he begins drawing the conditions he encounters; hoping to capture the essence of the community’s destitution. When the church learns that he’s been giving his little payback to the people, the church finally kicks him out. He returns home to his wealthy family, hoping to marry his cousin, who rejects him due to his impecunious lifestyle. In protest, Vincent visits his uncle for money and attempts to prove his passion by holding his hand over a flame and destroying his flesh. It doesn’t work and he heads to the nearest bar where he meets a drunk prostitute Christine (Pamela Brown) who nurses his burnt hand and the two later move in with each other; though she too leaves him when his poverty proves too difficult. Vincent decides to fully immerse himself in his art, requesting that his brother Theo (James Donald) act as his benefactor and agent. So begins a gripping tale of Vincent pursuing his craft at a time when the art world was under a period of rapid change. We watch as dozens of painters attempt to push the craft to its limits; living in poverty; all in the hope of selling that one piece that could launch their careers. Vincent ends up in Aries where he’d go on to produce some of his most famous work, including "The Cafe Terrace at Night" (1888) and "The Starry Night" (1889); bouncing between cheap apartments; constantly checking in with his brother, always hopeful the next piece will sell. He’s soon joined by fellow painter Paul Gauguin (Anthony Quinn) and the pair enter into dozens of discussions on craft and purpose. Paul wants to pursue his work with a deliberate and careful approach, working at high intensity for few hours at a time in a comfortable studio while Van Gogh works all hours of the day, giving every ounce of energy he has toward improving his craft. Van Gogh’s commitment to capturing the essence of the environment he sees; whether workers in the field and the hard labor they experience (which Paul resents; given Van Gogh’s benefactor) or the colors of nature and their embodying the spirit of God. Soon the two come to a loggerhead, mostly rooted in their lack of success and competing philosophies and Paul leaves once again; not wanting to watch Vincent spiral out of control. Vincent retains his obsessive work habits, culminating in a mental breakdown where he engages in the infamous act of cutting off his ear, utilizing the same offscreen approach as Reservoir Dogs (1992) and creating the film’s most memorable moment. Nearly dying, the event forces Vincent to check himself into a mental institution where he continues to paint. He later returns to Theo, learning that one of his paintings sold for a low sum to another painter; an event presented as insignificant though which the audiences know is the turning point he's been waiting for. Although he gives up drinking, Vincent’s mind continues to deteriorate, arriving at the equally infamous moment of his suicide, in which he painted his final piece “Wheatfields with Crows” (1890). Moments later, he would shoot himself in the head, leaving his body to be discovered by a local farmer. He would never realize his fame. In Virginia Woolf’s "To the Lighthouse" (1927), there’s an ongoing discussion about timeless artists. Aspiring painter Lily Briscoe refers to Shakespeare and muses on why and how the man has been able to survive over four hundred years after his death; in which other popular writers have reached the mainstream and faded within fractions of that span. I don’t know enough about painting to even speculate on why Van Gogh has achieved immortality, other than that he was able to introduce his work into a world that had yet to see anything like it. As with any artist, it was his ability to immerse himself into this task - of transcending all those came before him - which allows his craft to reach the level it has Like painting, filmmaking is a craft; and all other things being equal (school, family, and money excluded) only those who are most committed to the craft will succeed. I think about how although I’m frustrated, I might be one of a handful of students from my school to be making a living from directing content, and I’m so far from “filmmaking” there’s no certainty that it could ever happen. Like a need to paint all day, or like any artistic pursuit, filmmaking takes money and those who have both the talent and the funds stand a better chance for success than anyone else. It demands that those without the money are the very best, as with all things being equal, there is no other way to differentiate oneself. You have to be so good that so amount of subsidy would matter. Such a pursuit demands a love for the craft itself. I doubt I’ll ever chop my ear off, but I understand the obsession; there’s a desire to constantly push oneself, knowing that given the current failure, only improvement can stand chance for success. A film like Van Gogh provides a barometer; testing how much you love what you’re doing and how serious it is. For anyone pursuing a career in the arts or even beyond - perhaps wanting to be the best lawyer or doctor - this is a movie to watch. It’s the kind of biopic that gives you what you want, which is to see Van Gogh’s work and to watch him work - intercutting at the peak of most scenes a still image of the painting he created during that moment. Counter this to a movie like The Theory of Everything (2014), which seemed more interested in opening the most cursory glance at Hawking’s life versus showing us the dedication he had in pursuing his work. Or At Eternity's Gate (2018), which while beautiful, is much more about Van Gogh the person than his achievements and journey. Lust for Life dives deep into the man and his work, providing that special comfort you get when seeing what pains others have gone through. BELOW: One of the best death scenes from 21st century horror Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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