Showing posts with label Daniel Day Lewis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daniel Day Lewis. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Remembering the year 2007

THERE WILL BE BLOOD
Written and Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Paul Dano and Dillon Freasier


I did not choose this movie to commemorate 2007 because I associate it with some distinctive element of that year. No, the reason is much more simple than that. I chose THERE WILL BE BLOOD simply because it was released too late for me to review it at the time. As it ended up being one of my favorite films of not just that year but of all-time, I figure it warrants the accolades now. Without anything but the reputation of the director, Paul Thomas Anderson (BOOGIE NIGHTS, MAGNOLIA) and the lead actor, Daniel Day-Lewis to base this on, I somehow knew beforehand that this would be an instant classic, that it would somehow change the game without anyone knowing they were playing one to begin with. The moment it started, everything I suspected was confirmed. The unsettling hum of Jonny Greenwood’s score rises gradually as the scribe-written title makes way for the vast hillside where the story begins. And then we meet Day-Lewis, as Daniel Plainview. For the next ten minutes, he chips away at a wall in a well with a pick. He is completely silent, intensely focused and all of it is pure brilliance. If you aren’t mesmerized after this one scene, you should just shut it off.


Plainview, thanks to Day-Lewis’s uncanny embodiment of this character, is now a film icon. This is a man so complex, so devious and so conflicted that he is unlike anything ever captured on film before. He comes from humble beginnings and pursues the American dream diligently as an oil man. His dedication pays off and an unfortunate twist of fate brings a child into his life. For a time, it seems as though all is well, as though Plainview will rule the world he has created for himself. Naturally, life is not so kind. The pursuit of financial wealth, when pursued so vehemently, makes it difficult to see that life is still happening. Before long, Plainview is at odds with the local preacher (Paul Dano, who shows incredible potential and holds his own with Day-Lewis), who is himself at odds with God himself as he falsely claims to be a prophet. The clash pits religion against capitalism and exposes the thin line between them when they are corrupted. When an accident strains communication between Plainview and his son, his one human connection is severed and his hope for salvation is practically over. Day-Lewis’s subsequent descent into the madness of his mind is beguiling.


As much as the success of this film rests on the powerhouse performance of its star, praise must be gushed on its helmer, P.T. Anderson. Anderson’s previous films have attracted a certain type of filmgoer. In BOOGIE NIGHTS, he was provocative and playful with 1970’s porn but lost the plot before it could conclude. In MAGNOLIA, he entered a dramatic hurricane, which he weathered just fine mostly but that overtook him at times as well. With PUNCHDRUNK LOVE, he was poignant but the subject matter was too off the wall for even some of his fans to appreciate. With THERE WILL BE BLOOD though, he took on a topic unlike anything he has tackled in his past, one that is so inherently rich and deep, that he was forced to step up his game. Not only did he do this but the challenge itself transformed him into a master filmmaker. It is always so fulfilling to see a director step so far away from what he knows already to become the incredible director he always promised to be.


THERE WILL BE BLOOD is a chilling prophecy of where we are now. It is a promise that at one point in time, there will in fact be some blood. The film makes good on its promise just as it has happened in life over the same subject – oil. Revisiting the dawn of the oil industry in America gives insight into the birth of the maddening greed that seems intrinsically linked to it. Mindful not to be so simple though, Anderson paints Plainview as far more complex than a simple glutton. His issues run far deeper than that and the actions he takes act as a drill that eventually reaches his core and catapults a substance as putrid as oil from his soul. By the time this epic concludes, we too are covered in a black substance that isn’t easily shaken.



BLACK SHEEP'S 2007 TOP 10
(in alphabetical order, click on any title for review)

ATONEMENT, Joe Wright, director
I'M NOT THERE, Todd Haynes
JUNO, Jason Reitman
MICHAEL CLAYTON, Tony Gilroy
NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, Joel and Ethan Coen
ONCE, John Carney
PERSEPOLIS, Vincent Parronaud, Marjane Satrapi
RATATOUILLE, Brad Bird
LE SCAPHANDRE ET LE PAPILLON, Julian Schnabel
THERE WILL BE BLOOD, Paul Thomas Anderson
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Tuesday, December 22, 2009

NINE

Written by Michael Tolkin and Anthony Minghella
Directed by Rob Marshall
Starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Marion Cotillard, Penelope Cruz, Judi Dench, Nicole Kidman, Kate Hudson, Fergie and Sophia Loren


Journalist: What I am asking, Maestro, is have you run out of things to say?

I don’t think NINE could look better on paper if it tried. You’ve got Michael Tolkin, the author of “The Player”, and the late, great Anthony Minghella translating a Broadway classic to the screen, that has even deeper roots as the show itself was based of Federico Fellini’s 8 1/2. You’ve got Rob Marshall in the director’s chair. This is the man who reinvigorated the movie musical right when it was on the very brink of extinction with the Oscar-winning, CHICAGO, after all. You’ve got a cast of women unlike anything I’ve seen on film before – Marion Cotillard! Penelope Cruz! Nicole Kidman! Judi Dench! Kate Hudson! Fergie! Sophie Loren, for Pete’s sake! And who do you have at the center of all these ladies? Why none other than the genius of the day, Daniel Day-Lewis. How then could all of the excitement that this incredible pedigree inspires be completely missing from the final cut?


The problem might be the show itself. Day-Lewis is Guido Contini, Italy’s most exciting internationally recognized director. Well, he used to be. As of late, his films haven’t been connecting with audiences like they used to. We meet him amidst a flurry of press for his latest project and we quickly realize that he’s got no movie to make. Before long, we are introduced to his wife (Cotillard), his mistress (Cruz), his mother (Loren), his muse (Kidman) and his creative rock (Dench). It isn’t long after that that you realize juggling all these women in his life and ultimately trying t control them like he does his films is making it impossible for him to breathe. The women aren’t smothering him though. He is doing that all to himself by failing to see them all as actual people instead of supporting players in his own life. An unsympathetic egomaniac does not rally an audience.


It is even more troubling to me though that Marshall’s direction never allows for these lovely ladies to elevate past supporting players either. It’s ironic really to watch a movie about a blocked director directed without the inspiration to make it as great as it so clearly could be. Each woman in the cast gets to sing their song one by one and each one sings of how their lives have been changed by Contini, be that good or bad. As we never get to see these characters for who they are but rather just through the eyes of Contini himself, the hurt they sing about it isn’t connected to anything real. That said, neither are the musical numbers themselves. They all look and sound fantastic and, not to mislead, are pretty enjoyable too. They just keep coming in such an expected fashion that they lack the spontaneity necessary to make them truly pop.


Like CHICAGO, Marshall wants the musical numbers to feel like a surreal layer to the characters’ live. They seem to be happening in their minds but you never feel like you’ve actually been in anyone’s head. Anyone, that is, except for Contini. Every song and every scene is about him and while Day-Lewis does a perfectly fine job losing his way, he never quite finds it either. Although history is given to suggest where his troubles may have started, his woes never amount past the point of self-indulgence and subsequently NINE never becomes the masterpiece it should have. Instead, this fascinating dissection of one man’s mind never gets deep enough to entertain past the surface.

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