Bargain Bin: Restrepo (2010)
I remember when this film came out I had wanted to see it. But like so many films, it slipped through the cracks and I missed it. To my delight and surprise I found it waiting for me in the iTunes 99-cent rental of the week. Nothing like my prior bargain bin pick, New In Town (2009), I was excited to settle into some blankets on my couch and watch a film that required a little more of me as a viewer.
It required a lot. I know a little about the war in Afghanistan, but not enough to feel part of it. The Afghanistan war is a topic for debate, posturing and grandstanding. I feel disconnected to the reality of the war and see it only as a bargaining chip to be thrown around. This documentary provides an apolitical view of our soldiers’ battle for hard won territory. The interviews crosscut with front line action give viewers a personal account of one year with a U.S. platoon in the Korengal Valley of Afghanistan.
This platoon is charged with clearing the insurgency out of the valley and gaining the trust of the local population. Early on in the film PFC Juan Sebastián Restrepo dies in a firefight. The outpost that the platoon fights to build and defend they name in honor of their fallen comrade, OP Restrepo. The scenes of soldiers working to build this outpost while being shot at are emotional and gave me a sense of pride in these Americans. The scenes of negotiation between the villagers and the leaders of the platoon show just how difficult this war was and continues to be.
Restrepo (2010) touches on every topic relating to the Afghanistan war that the cable news media seem blind to. Interviews with the soldiers show the continuing mental anguish they are dealing with. PTSD is lightly reported on and seems to be neglected by politicians and the military. Culture differences and the war for hearts and minds of the Afghans, is reported more thoroughly in minutes of this film than in the many hours of cable news coverage. It shows the war for what it is, difficult and complicated. The cinematography is gritty, respectful and patient.
This film doesn’t try to win the viewer to a side. Democrat vs. republican doesn’t enter into this conflict. American vs. Taliban is a conflict but is not treated simplistically: good guys vs. bad guys. There is more to the relationship. Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington let the complexity exist while providing a portrait of American soldiers we can all be proud of.
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (2011) is an odd film to see on a whim. It was a slow burn that surprised me with its hands-off approach to spy thriller. If I had done any research before seeing the film, it would have come as no surprise at all. The source material is British through and through, not only a novel from John le Carré but also a successful 1979 BBC series with Alec Guinness. Now, I don’t mean this as a knock on the British; they just have a more restrained style when dealing with police procedurals, mysteries and spy stories. Americans enjoy explosions, chases, blood, sexual violence and all forms of visual mayhem. British enjoy plot twists, verbal sparring, subdued violence and a palpable tension. That is a broad generalization, but I’m willing to stand by it.
Thomas Alfredson directs this film with a restrained style that fits the story and its previous incarnations. The only other work of his I’ve seen is Let the Right One In (2008), which is a vampire movie, if I’m going to reduce it to a genre definition. But he brings the same restrained style to that film and creates a vampire movie that dampens sensationalism in favor of character and mood.
You can’t be a passive viewer and enjoy this film. Or I suppose you could, but I don’t know how you would have any understanding of the plot and character motivations. There is plenty of foreshadowing, implied action, brief clues to peoples’ motivations, and hints about the identity of a suspected mole. The viewers are not treated like a mass of idiots who need to be clobbered over the head with plot turns, violence and big bright arrows pointing to the sought-after mole. Viewers are left to assume. They are given the same task that George Smiley (Gary Oldman) is given: to pick over evidence, remarks and body language to find a double agent, who may also be a close acquaintance. For an American audience, being asked to pay careful attention can be frustrating, but I thought it was refreshing. It gave the film a sense of the day-to-day paranoia that must have pervaded spy circles during the Cold War.
In addition to the skillful direction and well-crafted art direction, there is some great acting in this film. I enjoyed Benedict Cumberbatch, Colin Firth and Mark Strong, but Gary Oldman takes the cake. Oldman’s performance displays what a great actor can do with silence. I thought it demonstrated courage to take on a deliberately non-flashy role in this age of bombast and impersonations. It also took courage to take a role previously played by someone so formidable as Alec Guinness. Oldman has presented us with a performance that suggests great depth and vigorous thought beneath the surface of this character’s face.
I enjoy the Bournes of the spy movie world, but when you take away the crashes, explosions and blood, there is only a simple plot with clear character roles. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy presents a tense, dizzying world where there are always multiple ways to read a tiny look, statement or decision. In this world, the ability to read beneath the surface can be the difference between an inglorious bullet to the head or a quiet, tenuous preservation of an inherently duplicitous life.
Actions Speak Loud in The Artist (2011)
The night was frigid as I boarded bus 6B to Edina, where I would see The Artist (2011). The bus seemed a place suited to silence. Like elevators, the bus is a place where we share, and work hard to maintain, silence with strangers. Normally when I go to the theater, I decide what film I will see on the spot, but I had been waiting for this one.
I have to hand it to Michel Hazanavicius for writing and directing a silent film in an age when not only are silent films rare and seem dated, but people have forgotten the tricks and tropes of the early 1900s art form. Heavens bless him for reminding everyone what a silent film can do.
I have always loved Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, but these two clowns crowd the public’s remembrance of silent film. Sunrise (1927), one of my favorite silent films, tells a rich melodrama about a couple who splits and comes together again. Metropolis (1927) presents the audience with a fantastic science fiction film. These films are not just steps in film history that are only important in historical context. They are dazzling displays of what film is best at: showing. The shot of E.T.’s finger touching Elliot’s, Hitchcock’s shot of Janet Leigh’s dead horrified eye in a bathroom of The Bates Motel, or any romance where two lovers share a look—all are scenes, shots and moments that, though enhanced by sound, are in no need of a soundtrack. Film is first and foremost a visual medium, and many of the best films could have the soundtrack stripped from them with no real harm done to the story or the integrity of the film.
Okay, enough with my soapbox. Even if you are no fan of silent film, this movie is still for you. It is playful, heartbreaking and engrossing. And for those sound junkies out there, this film has a wonderful score that can heal your sense of loss and discomfort when you find out that you just bought a ticket to a silent movie. Ludovic Bource’s music nails the playful aspect of this film while maintaining a beauty that supports the emotion and drama in the struggles of George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), the film’s main character.
Dujardin is a striking presence on-screen. Gene Kelly, William Powell and Cary Grant all came to mind when Dujardin appeared. He deftly maneuvers from light-hearted comic Valentin to Valentin in the depths of despair as he sets his celluloid self, and home, aflame. This is my first encounter with Dujardin, and I couldn’t be more delighted. His performance helps the film keep a secret.
Usually, an audience gets pleasure from knowing something the characters do not. But in this case, both the characters and the film know something you don’t. I won’t tell you what it is, because the revelation brought me so much joy. I will say that this aspect of the film, though it lends itself to gimmickry, felt genuine and fun. It’s just one more way that Hazanavicius plays with the form of silent film.
Casting John Goodman as Al Zimmer, a stereotypical successful studio boss, played with the notion of sound in acting. In my mind, John Goodman is known for his booming voice: as Walter Sobchak (my favorite Goodman role) and his many other Coen Brothers’ roles, as movie showman Lawrence Woolsey (not the greatest film, through no fault of Goodman’s) and his many voice performances in animated films. I could identify his voice anywhere, but this film highlights and utilizes John Goodman’s little-discussed talent of being a “loud” screen presence. We expect Goodman’s voice when we see him on-screen, so upsetting that viewer expectation brings forward the wonderful physical acting that Goodman has always brought to the screen. The man can communicate so well physically, I don’t miss that distinctive voice at all.
The rich visual texture of The Artist is reason alone to see it. The frames of this film are composed in a way that is neglected in so many multiplex movies today. However, the artistic beauty and silent form in no way dampen the film’s ability to make you laugh out loud or bring tears to your eyes. It would be a shame to miss this gem all for a fear of silence.
