Looker

Moscow Does Not Believe In Tears

The December issue of Harper's features part of the transcript of an amazing 1947 conversation between Joseph Stalin, Sergei Eisenstein, and a couple of sinister apparatchiks. They're discussing Eisenstein's Ivan the Terrible, Part I, from 1944, and sharing their "thoughts" for Part II. (If you're a Harper's subscriber, you can read the whole excerpt here; the full document appears in this book.) Mr. Stalin says:

You need to depict historical figures correctly. For instance, it's wrong that Ivan the Terrible kisses his wife for so long. In those days, that wasn't allowed. And Ivan the Terrible was very cruel—you can show that—but you have to show why it was essential. One of Ivan's mistakes was that he didn't finish off the five major feudal families. If he had wiped them out, there would never have been a Time of Troubles. But he would execute someone and then spend a long time repenting and praying. God hindered him in this matter. He should have been more decisive.

He goes on to say:

Historical images have to be depicted truthfully. A director can retreat from history—he has to work with his imagination—but he can vary only within the limits of the style of the historical era. The portrayal of Vladimir Staritsky is very fine. He was very good at catching flies. What a man! A future tsar, and he catches flies with his hands! You have to give details like that. They reveal the essence of a man.

Missing in Action

It seems like just yesterday that I was grousing about inept punctuation in movie titles, and now it's a trend. America's colons must be a dangerously scarce resource, because they're missing from the names of two movies released last month. How are we to interpret, linguistically, the phrases Kurt Cobain About a Son and Jimmy Carter Man From Plains? The publicists for the latter film even sternly reinforce its ungrammatical title, saying (I swear) in a press release: "Please Note: This is the CORRECT punctuation for the film’s title." Um, correct for whom? At least Elizabeth: The Golden Age has the decency to properly punctuate, but it was made by, you know, foreigners. A friend asks: "Do we have to go into the Wayback Machine and re-edit titles?" Will we have to reckon with Ali Fear Eats the Soul?

Smarmy? Moi?

On his blog today, the Premiere critic Glenn Kenny, displeased by a passage in my review of Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, calls me "reliably smarmy."

The last time Mr. Kenny attacked me, he quickly apologized. Perhaps this time he could at least explain the "reliably"?

Guilty as Sin, Part II

After reading my pan of Sidney Lumet's new movie, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, along with the many, many raves about it, a friend wrote to say:

What's wrong with these fucking people? I feel like A.O. Scott & David Denby (and while I have my misgivings about each, they're not idiots) just bought the package, perhaps literally sight unseen: It's "serious," it's "drama," it has these supposedly classical origins, it's got a few pomo trappings but its feet are in honorable old Hollywood, the director is a "mensch" (give me a break with the patronizing Yiddishisms, Tony).

I was literally shocked to see the film after reading all the raves about it. I'm glad not to be alone, but it makes me profoundly depressed about the lack of discrimination. I'm wondering if these are the same people who go on and on at parties about how great Philip Roth is.

You were too nice to say this directly, but most of Lumet's films are completely leaden — and all of them in the last 25 years. The only times in Lumet's long career when his methods have produced something that wasn't completely boring have been when he was given an exceptional screenplay (notably by Chayefsky). Even with that, I'm not sure how Network would play after all these years. I watched Serpico at some point in the 90s and found it entertaining in the manner of a 2-hour Kojak episode. Dog Day Afternoon and The Verdict I definitely admire, although, again, I haven't seen them for a long time. I can pretty much guarantee that 12 Angry Men would seem unwatchable.

Once I realized how bad the movie was going to be, I found myself actually pining for Quentin Tarantino. If I begged God to turn this movie into Jackie Brown, would he oblige? Sidney Lumet has never IN HIS LIFE directed a scene as good as the one between De Niro and Sam Jackson in the LAX-vicinity bar in Jackie Brown.

What are your thoughts, dear readers?

Guilty as Sin

Sidney Lumet has been making movies for 50 years, and though his track record is spotty, the man who directed Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, and Network generally deserves the benefit of the doubt. (Insert your own Wiz, Morning After or Gloria quip here.) His latest, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, stars Philip Seymour Hoffman and Ethan Hawke as brothers, and Albert Finney as their dad. It features a robbery gone wrong; it takes place primarily in New York City. And it has Marisa Tomei, often in very little clothing. In short, it’s highly promising. So why is it so bad?

Read the rest of my review of Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead here, at Stop Smiling.

The Awful Truth

In the Line of Fire

Today, in Brooklyn Heights, I watched Joel and Ethan Coen film John Malkovich screech to a halt in a battered Mercedes, get out in a huff, and walk into a stately townhouse. While wearing a silk robe.

Unfortunately, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Tilda Swinton, and Frances McDormand were nowhere in sight.

The Honeymoon Killers

If someone had to remake a perfect '70s movie like The Heartbreak Kid, I guess we should be grateful it was the brothers Farrelly and not, say, Tony Scott. Read my take on the Grodin-Stiller face-off here, on Nextbook.

Raging Bull

Torn Photo in an Empty Grave

If you've ever tried to keep track of all the nasty Italian horror pictures known as gialli, or if you've ever wanted to make your own—well, don't bother! Because now there's a web page that does it all for you. The Do-It-Yourself Giallo Kit amalgamates the best of the bloodsoaked, nonsensical films of Dario Argento, Mario Bava, Lucio Fulci and their twisted fratelli and presents them in all of their infinitely rearrangeable variations. Thanks, Braineater!