Henry Gibson
1935-2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Movies You May Have Missed - #10
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
"You know what I expected? Applause. I was only 20 years old then, I couldn't see how it looked to people. I was surprised by what happened. They didn't applaud."
OK, let's set the scene:
It was a cold winter night in December of 2007 when I sat down to watch this movie. It has only happened to me a few times in my life, but this was one of those times when the theater was completely empty. I knew that this movie was getting mixed reviews and pretty terrible box office, but I couldn't have imagined that the theater would actually be empty... Anyway, I'll always remember this movie-going experience, for a couple of reasons: Not only was it a good movie, but walking out of the theater itself was particularly memorable...
This was the last showing of the night, at 10 PM. Since the movie is nearly 3 hours long, I didn't get out until about 1 AM. The forecast had called for a "dusting" of snow, but as most Mainers know, weathermen - especially around here - don't know anything. So I walked outside, having just seen this wonderful movie... and I discover that there's over a foot of snow covering everything. Under normal circumstances, this would have unleashed an avalanche of expletives. But on this night, all I could think about was the movie. Scenes ran through my head as I thought of the pitch-perfect performances, beautiful photography, and strong direction. But my biggest thought was a simple one: Why didn't more people see this?
Well, there's many reasons for that. The film's post-production turmoil was pretty widely discussed before its release, but here's a simplified run-down: Director Andrew Dominik and Warner Brothers clashed frequently during production, especially during editing. Dominik was making a slow, languid, Terrence Malick-esque mood western, and the studio had hoped the film would include more action and violence (no doubt due to the frenetic 3:10 to Yuma remake which had been released earlier that year - and had been a pretty sizable hit). Warner Brothers wasn't getting what they wanted, and after Dominik's original four-hour cut played at the Venice Film Festival and garnered the Best Actor award for Brad Pitt, Dominik suddenly had ammunition in his fight to get his cut released. However, Dominik (whose only prior directing credit was the independent film Chopper in 2000) didn't have the experience - or the clout - for contractual final cut. Warner could have conceivably done whatever they wanted, but, thankfully, Brad Pitt was the one major wrench in the works. Being a producer on the project and personally backing Dominik, Pitt was able to work with Warner to get most of Dominik's vision on screen. So Brad Pitt, apart from giving a great performance in the movie itself, is a big reason for its success. Since the studio wanted to keep a good relationship with him, they were basically prevented from screwing around with the movie and fucking it up. Even the movie's title (we'll get to the genius of the title later) - a constant point of contention with the studio - was unable to be changed: Brad Pitt had a clause put in his contract stating that he would only participate in the film if the title was not changed or shortened. Thank God for Brad Pitt.
But enough back-story - let's get to the movie itself. As it begins, there are no opening credits; not even a title. Based on a book by Ron Hansen, the movie uses copious narration as a framing device, and it's some really beautiful stuff. Lush and often quite majestic, most of it is taken straight from the book:
We are introduced to the title characters: Jesse James is the famous outlaw, and Robert Ford is the wide-eyed kid who has adored him since he was a child. Bob's older brother Charlie is part of Jesse's gang, and through him Bob somehow finagles his way into the group. Famously cautious and mistrusting of new people, Jesse sees something in Bob, and allows him to join in:
But for all his charm and mystique, Jesse is still a ruthless and calculating killer, and when he snaps, he's a truly frightening beast. This next sequence is one of Brad Pitt's best moments in the movie. A truly great piece of work, Pitt is able to capture the duality of the role beautifully. Now a middle-aged father of two, Jesse has slowly become disgusted with himself and his brutality over the years, most notably in this scene as he crosses the line when bullying a young boy for information:
Bob has also discovered the real Jesse, and has quickly become disillusioned. The man he idolized in his youth has been revealed to him, flaws and all, and it's not something he can easily accept. Here's a beautifully written scene in which Bob, comparing himself to Jesse, acknowledges that the Jesse he had admired was nothing more than boyhood fantasy. Bob speaks of this mythical figure of Jesse James as though he's already dead, and the sense of loss that Casey Affleck imbues in these words is really quite exceptional. With his hero all but gone, at least in his eyes, he's lost his sense of purpose...
...But when the sheriff makes Bob a proposition - a reward for Jesse's assassination - his sense of purpose is renewed, and he finally has his shot at glory: as the man who killed Jesse James. In the lead-up to the ending, here's a couple of great scenes...
The first is in the days leading up to the planned assassination. As you can see, Jesse has become more and more whacked-out... and dangerous.
And here's a great little sequence. As Bob prepares himself for the big day, he immerses himself one last time in Jesse's world.
Now we arrive at the last act of the movie, which is also my favorite section of the film. Bob has successfully completed his task, and he's now known as The Man Who Killed Jesse James. The narration tells us that at that time, his name was more well-known than that of the President. He and his brother Charlie portray Bob and Jesse, respectively, in a popular theater re-creation of the assassination for the stage. Hundreds of people make the pilgrimage across the country to visit the house where the assassination took place. Bob has finally made something of himself. The entire world finally knows his name.
But public opinion changes. The legend of Jesse James grows over the years, becoming a sort of fairy tale. The story now turns Jesse into a modern-day Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. His dozens of murders are glossed-over, and the stories of those murders altered to fit the needs of this new history. Jesse James becomes an American Hero, and Robert Ford is now the Coward who murdered him. And this is where, finally, the absolute genius of that title comes into full view. Everything comes full circle, and that title, which before seemed to be simply a statement of fact, is turned completely upside down and becomes something else entirely. I don't need to spell it out for you - you get what it means. But I found it pretty damn powerful. It seems odd that something so simple as the title of a movie could affect me in such a way, but to see the story play out, and to see why the name of "Coward" given to Robert Ford is so wrong in so many ways... It really hit me. In a totally honest, primal way. Thank God that title wasn't changed.
Now we come to the last scene of the film. My usual warnings of Spoilers obviously apply here, but there's really no reason not to watch it - there's nothing you see here that you wouldn't discover by Googling "Robert Ford". There's really no need to comment on it - it's just extraordinary... very well done.
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford was nominated for two Academy Awards: Roger Deakins for his beautiful cinematography (he was nominated twice that year for Best Cinematography - for this, and also for No Country for Old Men), and a very well-deserved Supporting Actor nomination for Casey Affleck. Of course, if it was up to me, I would've thrown a whole load of other nominations in there for it as well, but I must especially point out the amazing score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, which I'm sure you've noticed when watching these clips. It's definitely a well-acted and directed movie, but the score has a lot to do with the movie's impact. (A little bit of trivia - Nick Cave has a cameo as the saloon singer in one of the clips above).
I'd really like to see the full four-hour version eventually, although it seems unlikely given Dominik's rocky relationship with Warner Brothers. I love the film as it is, but there was over an hour of material that was cut! In particular, Zooey Deschanel's character was almost completely cut out- the last clip above contains nearly all of her screen time in the film. I may sound insane, but I could do another hour of this movie - easy.
As you can tell from this post, I really loved this movie. I loved it when it came out, and it only seems to get better every time I see it. It's obviously a long haul, but if you're into these kind of slow, languid, unhurried pictures (à la Terrence Malick) and you haven't seen it yet, you should definitely give it a try. Like I said, reviews were mixed-to-good, but it seems like one of those pictures that people really start to appreciate years later. I really only hit the main points in the review; there's lots of great stuff I didn't even mention, including great supporting performances by Sam Rockwell (Snow Angels) and the always-reliable Paul Schneider (Lars and the Real Girl). So, if it seems like your cup of tea, give it a shot.
OK, let's set the scene:
It was a cold winter night in December of 2007 when I sat down to watch this movie. It has only happened to me a few times in my life, but this was one of those times when the theater was completely empty. I knew that this movie was getting mixed reviews and pretty terrible box office, but I couldn't have imagined that the theater would actually be empty... Anyway, I'll always remember this movie-going experience, for a couple of reasons: Not only was it a good movie, but walking out of the theater itself was particularly memorable...
This was the last showing of the night, at 10 PM. Since the movie is nearly 3 hours long, I didn't get out until about 1 AM. The forecast had called for a "dusting" of snow, but as most Mainers know, weathermen - especially around here - don't know anything. So I walked outside, having just seen this wonderful movie... and I discover that there's over a foot of snow covering everything. Under normal circumstances, this would have unleashed an avalanche of expletives. But on this night, all I could think about was the movie. Scenes ran through my head as I thought of the pitch-perfect performances, beautiful photography, and strong direction. But my biggest thought was a simple one: Why didn't more people see this?
Well, there's many reasons for that. The film's post-production turmoil was pretty widely discussed before its release, but here's a simplified run-down: Director Andrew Dominik and Warner Brothers clashed frequently during production, especially during editing. Dominik was making a slow, languid, Terrence Malick-esque mood western, and the studio had hoped the film would include more action and violence (no doubt due to the frenetic 3:10 to Yuma remake which had been released earlier that year - and had been a pretty sizable hit). Warner Brothers wasn't getting what they wanted, and after Dominik's original four-hour cut played at the Venice Film Festival and garnered the Best Actor award for Brad Pitt, Dominik suddenly had ammunition in his fight to get his cut released. However, Dominik (whose only prior directing credit was the independent film Chopper in 2000) didn't have the experience - or the clout - for contractual final cut. Warner could have conceivably done whatever they wanted, but, thankfully, Brad Pitt was the one major wrench in the works. Being a producer on the project and personally backing Dominik, Pitt was able to work with Warner to get most of Dominik's vision on screen. So Brad Pitt, apart from giving a great performance in the movie itself, is a big reason for its success. Since the studio wanted to keep a good relationship with him, they were basically prevented from screwing around with the movie and fucking it up. Even the movie's title (we'll get to the genius of the title later) - a constant point of contention with the studio - was unable to be changed: Brad Pitt had a clause put in his contract stating that he would only participate in the film if the title was not changed or shortened. Thank God for Brad Pitt.
But enough back-story - let's get to the movie itself. As it begins, there are no opening credits; not even a title. Based on a book by Ron Hansen, the movie uses copious narration as a framing device, and it's some really beautiful stuff. Lush and often quite majestic, most of it is taken straight from the book:
We are introduced to the title characters: Jesse James is the famous outlaw, and Robert Ford is the wide-eyed kid who has adored him since he was a child. Bob's older brother Charlie is part of Jesse's gang, and through him Bob somehow finagles his way into the group. Famously cautious and mistrusting of new people, Jesse sees something in Bob, and allows him to join in:
But for all his charm and mystique, Jesse is still a ruthless and calculating killer, and when he snaps, he's a truly frightening beast. This next sequence is one of Brad Pitt's best moments in the movie. A truly great piece of work, Pitt is able to capture the duality of the role beautifully. Now a middle-aged father of two, Jesse has slowly become disgusted with himself and his brutality over the years, most notably in this scene as he crosses the line when bullying a young boy for information:
Bob has also discovered the real Jesse, and has quickly become disillusioned. The man he idolized in his youth has been revealed to him, flaws and all, and it's not something he can easily accept. Here's a beautifully written scene in which Bob, comparing himself to Jesse, acknowledges that the Jesse he had admired was nothing more than boyhood fantasy. Bob speaks of this mythical figure of Jesse James as though he's already dead, and the sense of loss that Casey Affleck imbues in these words is really quite exceptional. With his hero all but gone, at least in his eyes, he's lost his sense of purpose...
...But when the sheriff makes Bob a proposition - a reward for Jesse's assassination - his sense of purpose is renewed, and he finally has his shot at glory: as the man who killed Jesse James. In the lead-up to the ending, here's a couple of great scenes...
The first is in the days leading up to the planned assassination. As you can see, Jesse has become more and more whacked-out... and dangerous.
And here's a great little sequence. As Bob prepares himself for the big day, he immerses himself one last time in Jesse's world.
Now we arrive at the last act of the movie, which is also my favorite section of the film. Bob has successfully completed his task, and he's now known as The Man Who Killed Jesse James. The narration tells us that at that time, his name was more well-known than that of the President. He and his brother Charlie portray Bob and Jesse, respectively, in a popular theater re-creation of the assassination for the stage. Hundreds of people make the pilgrimage across the country to visit the house where the assassination took place. Bob has finally made something of himself. The entire world finally knows his name.
But public opinion changes. The legend of Jesse James grows over the years, becoming a sort of fairy tale. The story now turns Jesse into a modern-day Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. His dozens of murders are glossed-over, and the stories of those murders altered to fit the needs of this new history. Jesse James becomes an American Hero, and Robert Ford is now the Coward who murdered him. And this is where, finally, the absolute genius of that title comes into full view. Everything comes full circle, and that title, which before seemed to be simply a statement of fact, is turned completely upside down and becomes something else entirely. I don't need to spell it out for you - you get what it means. But I found it pretty damn powerful. It seems odd that something so simple as the title of a movie could affect me in such a way, but to see the story play out, and to see why the name of "Coward" given to Robert Ford is so wrong in so many ways... It really hit me. In a totally honest, primal way. Thank God that title wasn't changed.
Now we come to the last scene of the film. My usual warnings of Spoilers obviously apply here, but there's really no reason not to watch it - there's nothing you see here that you wouldn't discover by Googling "Robert Ford". There's really no need to comment on it - it's just extraordinary... very well done.
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford was nominated for two Academy Awards: Roger Deakins for his beautiful cinematography (he was nominated twice that year for Best Cinematography - for this, and also for No Country for Old Men), and a very well-deserved Supporting Actor nomination for Casey Affleck. Of course, if it was up to me, I would've thrown a whole load of other nominations in there for it as well, but I must especially point out the amazing score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, which I'm sure you've noticed when watching these clips. It's definitely a well-acted and directed movie, but the score has a lot to do with the movie's impact. (A little bit of trivia - Nick Cave has a cameo as the saloon singer in one of the clips above).
I'd really like to see the full four-hour version eventually, although it seems unlikely given Dominik's rocky relationship with Warner Brothers. I love the film as it is, but there was over an hour of material that was cut! In particular, Zooey Deschanel's character was almost completely cut out- the last clip above contains nearly all of her screen time in the film. I may sound insane, but I could do another hour of this movie - easy.
As you can tell from this post, I really loved this movie. I loved it when it came out, and it only seems to get better every time I see it. It's obviously a long haul, but if you're into these kind of slow, languid, unhurried pictures (à la Terrence Malick) and you haven't seen it yet, you should definitely give it a try. Like I said, reviews were mixed-to-good, but it seems like one of those pictures that people really start to appreciate years later. I really only hit the main points in the review; there's lots of great stuff I didn't even mention, including great supporting performances by Sam Rockwell (Snow Angels) and the always-reliable Paul Schneider (Lars and the Real Girl). So, if it seems like your cup of tea, give it a shot.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Dancer in the Dark: An Appreciation
"I used to dream that I was in a musical. Because in a musical, nothing dreadful ever happens."
Wow, I've just done it. It didn't take much. Just four little words. But I've just split this site's readers down the middle. Half of you love this film, and probably also its director, Lars von Trier. The other half of you despise it (and probably von Trier as well). But right from the start, I'll warn you that this is going to be a love-fest: I unabashedly love this film, and Lars von Trier as well. If you happen to hate the movie or the man, I'd advise you to skip this and wait for the next post, because this one will be completely devoid of any sort of negative criticism whatsoever. I love this movie, and Lars von Trier is brilliant.
There, we have that out of the way. Those of you who know nothing of the movie or this von Trier fellow are probably scratching their heads. Well, Lars von Trier is just about the most outspoken person on the planet. He has some fundamental problems with the United States, yet he has never been here (he blames this on his fear of flying), even though most of his recent films take place in the U.S. Does that make what he has to say any less relevant? Some think so. I don't. Sometimes to fully examine something, it takes an outsider looking in.
Dancer in the Dark is Lars von Trier's seventh film, and won both the Palme d'Or (Best Picture) and Best Actress at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival. Trier had previously won the Grand Prix (2nd Place) at Cannes in 1996 for Breaking the Waves. But the biggest thing this movie has to offer is the performance by Icelandic musician Björk, in her first (and only) major film role. I won't go into the problems she had with von Trier, as it's already been widely discussed, but apparently the experience of shooting the film was so demanding and emotionally exhausting that she's decided to never act again (although she's changed that story since). Whatever the reasons, the fact remains that we have an amazing performance here. Co-star Catherine Deneuve, explaining why Björk was so psychologically destroyed after filming, described her performance as "feeling" and not "acting". And that's why she's so good. It's rare to see someone completely baring their soul like she does in this film, and that's probably why this picture is so real - and devastating - despite the contrived plot. It's still amazing to me, 9 years later, that she wasn't nominated for a Best Actress Oscar.
The film takes place in Washington state in 1964 (although, obviously, it was shot in Trier's home country of Denmark). Björk plays Selma, a single mother who immigrates from Czechoslovakia with her young son in hopes of a better life. Selma has a condition in which she is slowly going blind, and since it's genetic, she knows her son will also eventually go blind. The United States has developed a procedure to cure this ailment, but it costs several thousand dollars, so Selma moves to the U.S. and spends hours a day toiling away in a factory, in hopes of acquiring enough money to cure her son's disease.
I know what you're thinking. You've just read the summary above, and you're thinking "Yeah, right". I admit, it looks pretty stupid and soap opera-ish on paper, but it really works. Sure, it requires a suspension of disbelief, and not everyone could pull something like this off, but I completely bought it. And I'll explain why:
It all starts at the beginning. This is a two-and-a-half hour movie, and this is a film that knows that. The first scene is a nearly four-minute musical overture, set to a constantly-dissolving set of abstract paintings. So right from the beginning, it feels big. It feels like an Event. I'm not gonna lie to you - I saw this film in the theater, and it was exciting.
So, after this scene we're introduced to Selma, who's practicing for an upcoming community theater production of The Sound of Music. Even with all the hardships in her life, she still has one outlet for happiness: Musicals.
We see her working in the factory, cheating on eye exams so she can continue working, the little house she lives in with her son, and the rich landlords who think they're doing something "nice" by cutting her a deal on the rent and letting her come over every once in a while to eat dinner in their big, expensive house. The man is a cop, and the wife stays at home and spends their money, putting them deeper and deeper in debt. Trier's depiction of American consumerism is a little on-the-nose, but shockingly accurate: The wife not only likes to spend, but also likes the ego-boost in seeing Selma's wide-eyed awe at the couple's wealth.
This all leads up to the scene that really starts everything. Bill, the landlord/police officer mentioned above, comes over late one night to discuss his financial troubles with Selma. She, in return, tells him of her blindness.
This is probably a good time to mention the technical aspects of the film. Lars von Trier again uses his tried-and-true method of handheld camerawork, coupled with copious cutting. I love this style when it's used well, and von Trier certainly knows how to use it to maximum effect. Others hate it, but then again... we're not talking about them, are we?
This film was also shot on video - one of the first large-scale productions to do so. Of course, we're not talking about the advanced HD cameras used today on films like Zodiac, but good, old fashioned DV tape. The camera used for the majority of the film was a more expensive professional model, while the musical sequences (in vivid color as opposed to the dark, grainy nature of the rest of the film) were shot by setting up many, many consumer-grade cameras (sometimes as many as 100) in predetermined spots and editing the footage together in quick succession to create fluidity. In my opinion, it was a terrific use of technology and meshed well with Trier's style of shooting.
So Selma continues her life, slaving away in the factory and practicing for the play. I haven't included a clip of it here, but scattered throughout the film are her "daydreams" - Hollywood-style musical numbers that take place entirely in her head, and serve to distance her from the depressing monotony her life has become.
But, of course, her gradual blindness eventually becomes too much. She struggles to do her work in the factory, and even has to give up her biggest love: the musical.
It's at this point that her landlord, desperate for money in his steadily increasing debt, steals Selma's life savings for himself. She confronts him, and it ends in his murder.
As you've probably realized by now, this is not a film whose merits can be easily explained with description. Sure, I can give you the simple nuts and bolts of the story, which (admittedly) doesn't sound like much. To get a real understanding for this film, you have to witness the power of Björk's performance, and to do that, I'll have to show you the ending. If that's not something you'd like to see now, than I'd advise you to skip to the end of the post, because herein lies SPOILERS...
Now we're in the last act of the picture, and Selma is on death row awaiting her execution. But in the quiet cell block, she's unable to escape into her fantasy world and is instead faced with bleak, harsh reality. Her last musical fantasy is devoid of the vivid colors and dancing as in the rest of the film: It's just a simple, grainy image of a broken woman and her music. It's beautiful and devastating, and you'll never look at "My Favorite Things" the same way again.
Now we arrive at the last scene of the film. I've always believed the last scene of a movie is just as important as the beginning, and this ending is just about as good as you can get. Selma sings, and she's back in her world, although this time, we don't join her. Simply put, we don't need to. Everything plays out on Björk's face, and the emotional power with which she sings these final lyrics is more than what most actors can do with ordinary dialogue. This is what real musical acting is all about - the people who thought Jennifer Hudson was deserving of her Dreamgirls Oscar obviously never saw this movie. And then a simple crane up, in complete silence. Beautiful.
I know I've repeated the word "devastating" in this post several times, but that's the best way I can describe it. It's a hard movie to watch at times, and it leaves you emotionally drained at the end, but it's a real Experience, and that's hard to come by these days. I can see why some people feel that Lars von Trier was trying to manipulate his audience with this picture, and to tell you the truth, I agree. But you know what? I bought it. The whole damn thing. Every last word. A movie should make you feel something, whether it be sadness, or joy, or anger. When a filmmaker goes the extra mile and attempts to get these sort of genuine reactions from an audience, that's commendable. But when a film actually succeeds at this, it's something special.
Wow, I've just done it. It didn't take much. Just four little words. But I've just split this site's readers down the middle. Half of you love this film, and probably also its director, Lars von Trier. The other half of you despise it (and probably von Trier as well). But right from the start, I'll warn you that this is going to be a love-fest: I unabashedly love this film, and Lars von Trier as well. If you happen to hate the movie or the man, I'd advise you to skip this and wait for the next post, because this one will be completely devoid of any sort of negative criticism whatsoever. I love this movie, and Lars von Trier is brilliant.
There, we have that out of the way. Those of you who know nothing of the movie or this von Trier fellow are probably scratching their heads. Well, Lars von Trier is just about the most outspoken person on the planet. He has some fundamental problems with the United States, yet he has never been here (he blames this on his fear of flying), even though most of his recent films take place in the U.S. Does that make what he has to say any less relevant? Some think so. I don't. Sometimes to fully examine something, it takes an outsider looking in.
Dancer in the Dark is Lars von Trier's seventh film, and won both the Palme d'Or (Best Picture) and Best Actress at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival. Trier had previously won the Grand Prix (2nd Place) at Cannes in 1996 for Breaking the Waves. But the biggest thing this movie has to offer is the performance by Icelandic musician Björk, in her first (and only) major film role. I won't go into the problems she had with von Trier, as it's already been widely discussed, but apparently the experience of shooting the film was so demanding and emotionally exhausting that she's decided to never act again (although she's changed that story since). Whatever the reasons, the fact remains that we have an amazing performance here. Co-star Catherine Deneuve, explaining why Björk was so psychologically destroyed after filming, described her performance as "feeling" and not "acting". And that's why she's so good. It's rare to see someone completely baring their soul like she does in this film, and that's probably why this picture is so real - and devastating - despite the contrived plot. It's still amazing to me, 9 years later, that she wasn't nominated for a Best Actress Oscar.
The film takes place in Washington state in 1964 (although, obviously, it was shot in Trier's home country of Denmark). Björk plays Selma, a single mother who immigrates from Czechoslovakia with her young son in hopes of a better life. Selma has a condition in which she is slowly going blind, and since it's genetic, she knows her son will also eventually go blind. The United States has developed a procedure to cure this ailment, but it costs several thousand dollars, so Selma moves to the U.S. and spends hours a day toiling away in a factory, in hopes of acquiring enough money to cure her son's disease.
I know what you're thinking. You've just read the summary above, and you're thinking "Yeah, right". I admit, it looks pretty stupid and soap opera-ish on paper, but it really works. Sure, it requires a suspension of disbelief, and not everyone could pull something like this off, but I completely bought it. And I'll explain why:
It all starts at the beginning. This is a two-and-a-half hour movie, and this is a film that knows that. The first scene is a nearly four-minute musical overture, set to a constantly-dissolving set of abstract paintings. So right from the beginning, it feels big. It feels like an Event. I'm not gonna lie to you - I saw this film in the theater, and it was exciting.
So, after this scene we're introduced to Selma, who's practicing for an upcoming community theater production of The Sound of Music. Even with all the hardships in her life, she still has one outlet for happiness: Musicals.
We see her working in the factory, cheating on eye exams so she can continue working, the little house she lives in with her son, and the rich landlords who think they're doing something "nice" by cutting her a deal on the rent and letting her come over every once in a while to eat dinner in their big, expensive house. The man is a cop, and the wife stays at home and spends their money, putting them deeper and deeper in debt. Trier's depiction of American consumerism is a little on-the-nose, but shockingly accurate: The wife not only likes to spend, but also likes the ego-boost in seeing Selma's wide-eyed awe at the couple's wealth.
This all leads up to the scene that really starts everything. Bill, the landlord/police officer mentioned above, comes over late one night to discuss his financial troubles with Selma. She, in return, tells him of her blindness.
This is probably a good time to mention the technical aspects of the film. Lars von Trier again uses his tried-and-true method of handheld camerawork, coupled with copious cutting. I love this style when it's used well, and von Trier certainly knows how to use it to maximum effect. Others hate it, but then again... we're not talking about them, are we?
This film was also shot on video - one of the first large-scale productions to do so. Of course, we're not talking about the advanced HD cameras used today on films like Zodiac, but good, old fashioned DV tape. The camera used for the majority of the film was a more expensive professional model, while the musical sequences (in vivid color as opposed to the dark, grainy nature of the rest of the film) were shot by setting up many, many consumer-grade cameras (sometimes as many as 100) in predetermined spots and editing the footage together in quick succession to create fluidity. In my opinion, it was a terrific use of technology and meshed well with Trier's style of shooting.
So Selma continues her life, slaving away in the factory and practicing for the play. I haven't included a clip of it here, but scattered throughout the film are her "daydreams" - Hollywood-style musical numbers that take place entirely in her head, and serve to distance her from the depressing monotony her life has become.
But, of course, her gradual blindness eventually becomes too much. She struggles to do her work in the factory, and even has to give up her biggest love: the musical.
It's at this point that her landlord, desperate for money in his steadily increasing debt, steals Selma's life savings for himself. She confronts him, and it ends in his murder.
As you've probably realized by now, this is not a film whose merits can be easily explained with description. Sure, I can give you the simple nuts and bolts of the story, which (admittedly) doesn't sound like much. To get a real understanding for this film, you have to witness the power of Björk's performance, and to do that, I'll have to show you the ending. If that's not something you'd like to see now, than I'd advise you to skip to the end of the post, because herein lies SPOILERS...
Now we're in the last act of the picture, and Selma is on death row awaiting her execution. But in the quiet cell block, she's unable to escape into her fantasy world and is instead faced with bleak, harsh reality. Her last musical fantasy is devoid of the vivid colors and dancing as in the rest of the film: It's just a simple, grainy image of a broken woman and her music. It's beautiful and devastating, and you'll never look at "My Favorite Things" the same way again.
Now we arrive at the last scene of the film. I've always believed the last scene of a movie is just as important as the beginning, and this ending is just about as good as you can get. Selma sings, and she's back in her world, although this time, we don't join her. Simply put, we don't need to. Everything plays out on Björk's face, and the emotional power with which she sings these final lyrics is more than what most actors can do with ordinary dialogue. This is what real musical acting is all about - the people who thought Jennifer Hudson was deserving of her Dreamgirls Oscar obviously never saw this movie. And then a simple crane up, in complete silence. Beautiful.
I know I've repeated the word "devastating" in this post several times, but that's the best way I can describe it. It's a hard movie to watch at times, and it leaves you emotionally drained at the end, but it's a real Experience, and that's hard to come by these days. I can see why some people feel that Lars von Trier was trying to manipulate his audience with this picture, and to tell you the truth, I agree. But you know what? I bought it. The whole damn thing. Every last word. A movie should make you feel something, whether it be sadness, or joy, or anger. When a filmmaker goes the extra mile and attempts to get these sort of genuine reactions from an audience, that's commendable. But when a film actually succeeds at this, it's something special.
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