Love in the Time of Cholera

Love in the Time of Cholera
(Mike Newell, 2007)

Being a two hour film covering 50 years of complex relationships, it amazes me I had any feeling for it at all, besides maybe breathless. The writers were ambitious to say the least.

The set up is as follows: One rich, old man dies. We see the wife as visibly heartbroken. Our sympathy is all about her. We love this man who's dead—one attendant of the wake says “your husband was a saint.” We want to know his life. He is our hero.

Hitch in film making that can't be helped: The actress playing the wife is obviously NOT 72, like her makeup and wig want us to believe. No amount of newfangled, wrinkle-making, skinish makeup is going to hide that Giovanna Mezzogiorno is a gorgeous 20 something. The job on Benjamin Bratt, our dead hero, is more convincing. Whether this is because he has facial hair or because Hollywood clings to making their women as glamorous as possible despite how old and wrinkly they are supposed to be, I don't know, I don't really care either, but it's interesting.

Anway, it is here, suddenly that a very different old man sits upright in a luscious red hammock out of the arms of a ridiculously gorgeous young woman (naked) to rush to the window. He tells her to go back to college, there is something he must do.

Next cut, this new old man (could he, Florentino Ariza, played by Jarvier Bardem, be our actual hero? This shifty man with curled mustachios?) asks for the distraught old lady's hand in marriage for he has loved her for “50 years, 9 months and 4 days”. She, in no uncertain terms, tells him to drop dead, and we have a plot worth caring about.

The expected flash back happens, and we've a couple archetypes to suddenly deal with. IE. Bored again... Upstart young poor boy (Florentino), gorgeous/shy young rich girl (Fermina), forbidding father... Romeo and Juliet set in Colombia.

The best thing that has happened has to do with the supporting cast. John Leguizamo and Lieve Schieber need to do more things. I love them. Here Leguizamo is the father, resplendent in mullet and power trips. He is genuinely scary. Schieber is the telegraph master who tries to get Florentino laid at a brothel. Because of their intervention our leads start to show some spunk.

Fermina threatens to kill herself with a knife, not by saying anything, but by actually starting to do so at the dinner table. Florentino politely refuses advances of whores, not so dramatic, but that's what his character is all about. Tiny moments, crucial to the rest of their development, return interest to the viewer. The whole thing is storyboarded into these tiny moments.

So, yes, it gets better from here, she chooses to marry some other guy—a dandy doctor—after telling Florentino she never really loved him, get over it. Florentino starts a diary of 622 women he fucks over the aforementioned 50 years.

My personal favorite moment is the meeting of doctor (played by Benjamin Bratt) and Fermina meet. She might have cholera (oh gods, this theme is so well tied into everything without being too much a character itself, very well handled) so, as he has no stethoscope, he rips open her shirt and listens to her chest, back, chest again. He is very matter of fact, but Mezzogiorno's acting conveys all the emotions a virgin in this situation would garble and not quite express. Mezzogiorno's acting is first rate throughout. Full range of expression, nuanced, consistent and has excellent chemistry with both Bratt and Bardem. Who should by no means be underestimated either.

In fact, all the acting in this film is ridiculously good. It's probably the best thing about the film. The characters, and their various quirks and motivations would be completely lost without these actors, and the movie would have failed. Similarly, gods bless directors and writers who stick to the good literature they rip off. Every shot, down to the 2 second helicopter shot over a caravan, is fully cast, propped , colored and agonized over to present the feeling of opulence that Marquez spends so many words creating.

So many words that, even with this attention to detail, the book is obviously too involved to fully express on screen. Some details, in the film, make little sense, or are left loose. The conflict between with Catholicism, for example. There are many heavy handed shots of catholic masses and funerals, and the lady the Doctor has the affair with is Protestant... either this is a symbol of his character which never gets developed or it's a cultural conflict which never gets developed. In either case its left alone because movies have some serious time constraints, but that's something you gotta take into account. The sumptuous shots of transubstantiation are gorgeous, but ultimately distracting from the plot.

And after all this, the ending is actually a bit weak. With goal achieved, Florentino gives his last words on the subject “After 53 years, seven months and 11 days and night, my heart was at last fulfilled. And I discovered, to my joy, that it is life and not death that has no limits.” But, we haven't heard his thoughts on this before... See? Adapting books to movies is so slippery that even when you perfectly capture the writer's tone, and manage to squeeze the epic to two hours, it just won't have the same round impact.

At least all those characters and years are sufficiently understood. And most of it is damned pretty.

A note on the movies.

I need to feel comfortable with writing quality things on a regular basis for an audience. I watch a lot of movies. You guys are my audience--even though Stef seems to be the only one aware I’m here (no, I didn’t advertise; yes, it’s my own fault - most things are)

In my reviews I am aiming for several things.

Word limit: 500

Develop a voice.

Convey the meaning (if any) of the film

Explain how that is apparent

Dispel other reviews if they have clearly missed the point

Pass personal judgment

Write as often as possible

In the future (fog, hole) it would be the bees knees to communicate with other reviewers and have actual debates.

Also, I will review things like books/plays/advertising schemes and what have you… The restraint I’m putting on this is Media (yes, with a capital m).

Cabaret

Cabaret

(1972, Bob Fosse)

**

The manic pixie dream girl’s manifesto/what Bob Fosse thought about Nazis.

We follow the befuddled Sally Bowles (Liza Minnelli) as parallel to the rise of Hitler. Sex and booze are pretty well enjoyed in Berlin, 1931 and Nazis are, thus far, a joke of organization spouting “tripe” to be ignored.

Fosse seems at first to be only focused on the melodrama of an annoying foursome. A first date is in front of anti-communist posters. Second dance number interlaced with a Jew being beat up. First fight between secondary couple and two Nazi youth members drops a dead dog on their doorstep. Each personal drama is surmounted by a gain in society by the Nazi party.

Sally herself is nothing short of a 20 year old version of the crazy old bat Miss Minnelli we have all come to know and in sitcoms the last decade over. But here she is “an underage femme fatale,” complete with a shapeless body and Josephine Baker haircut. Her lover Brian Roberts (Michael York, you know him as the old mentor of Austin Powers) is stuffy and British, born only to succumb to this crazy dame. Secondary characters include the bi-curious Maximillian, worrisome rapist Fritz and naïve darling Natalia. Yes folks, if ever you’ve wondered “will rape win me the girl?” you now have your answer: “of course! But only if it’s Fay Dunaway being a vulnerable German Jew.”

There’s some bad over dubbing in a little boat scene which I can only imagine makes Fosse roll in his grave with aggravation to this day. Luckily, for my devout love of Fosse, everything else is characteristically perfect: shot composition, editing, color pallet are all polished. Themes are tightly controlled in the sets, writing and music. It really is unfortunate that three of the four main characters are so heinously annoying.

Easily the best thing about the film, though, is the cabaret host. He is our narrator, and bookends. He lets us know what’s going on behind Minnelli’s uber annoying presence. His androgynous and mime-ish expression is delightful as he sings the narration of the film in a super fake German accent. He lets in Fosse’s signature surreal conduit to his true message: the Nazis were bad for hurting Jews, sure, but REALLY they were bad for shutting down the clubs and doing away with drag queens and everything that is fun.

I'd rewatch this the same way I rewatch Star Wars Episode 1: fast forwarding through the parts where the main character is talking.

PS. Liza Minnelli won Best Actress for this shit. Just because she’s Judy Garland’s awkward daughter doesn’t mean she should go around getting credit for exemplifying infuriation.

M.

M.
(1931)
*****

Fritz Lang’s actually lesser known masterpiece is bedrock for film and society and societal observation/interaction in a post world wars world.

After Metropolis’ flop at the box office (though massively loved in later years thanks to Superman cartoons and Herr Goebbels) Lang turned to much more naturalistic fare and turned from the overly stylized world of German Expressionism.

Though some overt lighting, exaggerated camera angles and a fresh-from-silent-acting Peter Lorre may stage-ify M, its illustration of paranoia in civilization is still cutting edge. M follows the capture of a pedophiliac serial killer; sure it’s a cliché to today’s CSI and Nancy Grace-drenched audience, but in 1931 it was still pretty chilling.

What sets M apart from other psychological thrillers (either then or now) is the focus on fear due to physical violence rather than the violence itself. That is, the only evidence that a small girl is abducted is a symbolic balloon tangling in some electrical wires.

Instead, Lang follows an interlaced plot of Berlin’s police force and Berlin’s criminal force. Due to this especially hateful crime, both sides of the law are out for Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre). This is where the only dating of the film occurs: Fingerprinting seems to be a new fangled invention.

This leads us to the idea, and conclusion of the film, that primitive passion is way more effective than coolly cornering a criminal. The mob boss has the bright idea to hire the homeless to track for suspicious characters. Lang interlaces this with coppers rounding up the usual suspects and filling their cells with obviously innocent run-of-the-mill criminals in a giddy blaze of self righteousness.

Yep, we never see that little girl again, and the police pretty quickly forget about the mother; the mob boss never cared that there was a mother in the first place. What they don’t lose sight of is Peter Lorre and his creepy cum cute chub.

A beggar chances on the killer and chases him down. Only here does the title become apparent. The beggar draws a giant “M” in chalk and nonchalantly slaps Beckert’s shoulder so all the mob scouts can join in the chase.

What ensues is a chase scene shot from above to emphasize a rat maze claustrophobia. The only comic relief in the film comes at this point where the petty criminals act as we would expect a swat team to do. Eventually they ferret him out of a dark and sodden wood hole in the attic and take him down to their world—a cement walled basement! There, they continue their sham of justice (lest we forget that earlier in the film they were being strong armed by the law because they were the only people worth suspecting) with a fair trial. Despite a riveting plea for mercy on Beckert’s part (a performance worthy of Charlize Theron’s MONSTER or Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal) the “jury” quickly devolves to a mob again, complete with pitchforks.

Beckert, coming so close to being sympathetic in the face of this mob, is saved only by the law who breaks in at the last second. Their only ability, the whole movie, is to track normal criminals, and track them they do, just in time to claim credit for the arrest.

Statements made by Lang: Pedophiles and murderers suck, but mass paranoia is scarier. Also, Johnny Law is next to useless unless you are committing a crime committed by these five guys over here first.

Penelope

A trendy romantic comedy made for/by nerdy girls who watched too many Tim Burton movies as kids.

This fairy tale is based on Hans the Hedgehog. Usual love story, blah blah blah, but there is a curse on either the girl or the boy because of an ancestor’s misdeeds making them unwillingly anthropomorphic, in this case a pig snout and ears on poor Penelope’s (Christina Ricci) otherwise adorable face. Yet our young heiress, Penelope, is looking for acceptance as a pig faced girl via marriage. Enter the suitors. Shoulder devil character Edward (Simon Woods) and shoulder angel character Max (James McAvoy), As it turns out, are both out just for the fortune, as you’d expect, but neither know beforehand of her facial deformity. Normal plot line follows… Girl tries to find herself, chooses wrong boy for wrong reasons etc.

Although this makes the film ultimately predictable you should not be disappointed because, well, you’re watching a romantic comedy. Thus, you should not listen to other reviews you may have ingested on this movie. It’s your own damn fault for watching a PG kid movie that easily doubles as perfect first date material.

Even in this ground though, there are a few too many exaggerations. The idea of men literally throwing themselves out the window to escape Ricci’s prosthetic is silly. She’s way too cute, even deformed, to try to escape. Also, defenestration is illogical when there is a perfectly well shot stair way directly in front of you, especially when our writer and director went to such lengths to make this appear a feasible thing to happen in a modern New York/London setting.

I say trendy because of the sets, props, costumes, chosen actors reflect the tastes of a savvy graphic designer trying to tap the imagination of a 14 year old girl in the early 21^st century. Bright colors, slight goth tint, east side New York setting allows for many a spunky supporting role, including our producer Reese Witherspoon, and two hot for now, but otherwise vaguely androgynous and British male counterparts ala Orlando Bloom.

All these roles are perfectly executed. Otherwise cut and dry characters pop with actual acting. Everyone knows Ricci and Witherspoon of course, they are solid both in art house and popular flicks. McAvoy is on the rise to similar stardom what with The Last King of Scotland and Atonement under his belt, likewise Peter Dinklage has been in numerous critically acclaimed films like The Station Agent plus a cameo opposite Will Ferrell in Elf. Who we don’t know so well is Simon Woods, but he too plays either serious Octavian in HBO’s Rome or wickedly doofy suitor to Keira Knightly in Pride and Prejudice. If the subtly of this cast’s humor and earnesty is lost, this too is your own damn fault for giving up on what is a lovely movie, if a bit stretched in places.

Mostly it is sweet girly candy with a subtle flower motif that easily could have gone the way of Tinkerbell and friends, but didn’t. Soundtrack, likewise. Penelope gets good ratings from me, a system for which I will devise and post in future reviews, on this, my sparkly new movie review blog!