Showing posts with label Alan Rickman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alan Rickman. Show all posts

Tuesday 19 November 2013

A butler - with that gait ?

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2013
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


19 November

64 = S : 13 / A : 11 / C : 10 / M : 11 / P : 7 / F : 12


A rating and review of The Butler (2013)


S = script

A = acting

C = cinematography

M = music

P = pacing

F = feel

9 = mid-point of scale (all scored out of 17, 17 x 6 = 102)



Maybe this is the butler that breaks the mould (or would break some sort of mould frequently enough with the unsteadiness of that gait), but the breed is always portrayed as light and efficient on its feet, not as if it cannot walk straight - serving things and not placing one's feet precisely really do not go together. The film takes the bother to age fairly unremarkable lead actor Forest Whitaker (as Cecil Gaines) and the undisappointing Oprah Whinfrey (as his wife Gloria), and to find a convincing look-a-like for Jackie Kennedy in Minka Kelly (but not one for John F.), but not to get right whether, from the waist down, he holds himself like a butler : if it was essential to have him, the things to have done was not have full-length shots of how clumsily he looked walking.

The major criticism of the film, apart from the too obvious effect of composed and pre-recorded music, is the pacing - it was a hot and stuffy Screen 3, which did not help, but the film could simply have done what it did with Jimmy Carter, the President of the US whom Whitaker facially and vocally most resembled, and skip over his term in office (and, IMDb makes clear, that of Gerald Ford) without anyone impersonating him (except Whitaker). Of the Presidents, the initial - but overcome - hesitation was that Alan Rickman looked too little like Reagan (and John Cusack as Nixon), but he and Jane Fonda as Nancy were the scene-stealers that one would have expected.

So, eight years passed over seemingly just to telescope apartheid with the US race issues that are the centre of the film, along with the typical theme of father eventually coming to realize that the rebellious son was right to stand up to opposition for what he believed. And, as usual, that individual falling-out is set against the bigger picture, too lazily invoked by having people see (or hear) the clips that are needed to tell the national story, rather than telling it in the dramatic writing - the danger is that, in a slow-paced story where only poor diction or sound-recording / re-recording (maybe deliberate in the case of the story about clapping the hands) requires one to be much more than passive (i.e. not having to make the effort of working out what is happening), one does not switch over to a mode (the usual one of a documentary) where one has to absorb material.

Right from the start, and not because of Whinfrey, the spark that was set up by this film was Spielberg's The Color Purple (1985), which truly does a whole lot better than this 'inspiration' from a true story (Wil Haygood's article 'A Butler Well Served by This Election'), and where one maybe does not feel that the struggle for equal rights, in which Gaines' son Louis plays his part (and, in turn, David Oyelowo plays him excellently), was so likely to be won. All down the line, the stories where sons break with sons whom they believe wrongheaded (or even immoral) chime in and give this film a resonance, because they did it better, that it does not have, just as borrowing Brahms or Schumann adds an otherwise undetectable gravitas, and the voiceover / framing device of Cecil waiting to be received takes away from any effect with its over-gravelly impression of age - from whatever time-perspective Cecil is talking, we do not need it, for it adds nothing.


Friday 9 March 2012

A very delayed excuse for a review of Red State (2011)

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2012
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


10 March

Yes, well... What follows - more of an excuse of a review, than for one - has been lurking on my desktop* for a very long time, and, when I opened it just now, didn't even turn out to be the limerick that, I thought, was the best part of my response to this screening at last year's Festival (yes, some six months ago).

I have tidied and tarted it up, but it remains what it is: incomplete (if only I had that limerick!)


* Contains spoilers *

Can one ever be prepared for Kevin Smith? I don’t think so. (He probably isn’t himself.)

So I don’t think that, just because I hadn’t done my homework and managed to watch Clerks (1994) my companion at the screening was at an advantage: the world into which we were plunged was one of proud intolerance, casual killings, being right (in more than one sense) in the face of everything, and prepared to fight to the death. Not much scope for humour there.

My friend enjoyed what Smith, despite all odds, did wring from the situation by way of comedy at the end, but I was less sure – being unsure is not a good foundation for comedy, unless it is one involving a nervous kind of tittering.


Where will I go next, if I feel in need of searching out Smith? Well, I could investigate Dogma (1999), the one whose poster owes more than a little to (the work of) Gilbert and George, but why should I watch Damon team up again with Affleck? That said, Alan Rickman and Salma Hayek are both in it…


End-notes

* Which we know doesn't mean that thing that the computer - or part of it - stands on, because we call that 'my desk', and 'top' never has anything to do with it!