Amelie

Congratulations to the modern French classic Amelie (2001)!  American Cinematographer subscribers voted it as the best-shot film between the years of 1998 and 2008.  The film, directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, is one of my favorites, and Bruno Delbannel’s whimsical cinematography is most definitely one of the reasons.

The film’s title character is a young French waitress, played adorably by Audrey Tautou, who begins changing people’s lives.  She plays matchmaker for her coworkers, helps a blind man cross the street, and sets up a little surprise for her lonely father that involves his garden gnome.  While she makes a difference in others’ lives, Amelie struggles to make a difference in her own, as her shyness prevents her from pursuing love.  The irony of Amelie is that viewing it is akin to opening a children’s pop-up book and getting lost inside, but the film has an R rating and deals with some adult situations and themes.  And yet that occasional innuendo or naughty scene doesn’t detract from the movie’s whimsy.  It still feels innocent and childlike.  That’s rare.

The film is dreamy, with bright colors and quaint French locales.  The camerawork is stunning.  The close-up, high angle shots of Amelie create interesting angles and proportions that lend an element of fantasy to the film.  The visuals becomes surreal and magical.  The opening sequence, which features various playful shots of Amelie as a carefree child, is beautifully shot.  I went through a phase after seeing this movie where my dream was to get an adorable bob haircut and wear Doc Martens and live in a chic Paris apartment and crack the tops of countless creme brulees with a spoon.  The cinematography matches this feel-good charm.

This film made me desperately want to try eating raspberries off my fingers.

If you haven’t seen Amelie, shame on you!  It’s a must-see in my book, because it is such a wonderful blend of components, from acting to camerawork to art direction to screenplay and everything in between.  It’s one of those rare films that just makes you smile from beginning to end.  It’ll warm your heart.

Regarding the rest of the journal’s list for top cinematography, I think it’s a very interesting group of films, and I agree with many of the choices.  Some entries are more unexpected than others.  My favorites on the list include Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Slumdog Millionaire, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (which I would have placed even higher), The Lord of the Rings, and Pan’s Labyrinth. 

Read the list of winners at Movieline: http://www.movieline.com/2010/06/was-amelie-really-the-best-shot-film-of-the-last-decade.php.

Have You Seen It?: Man on Wire

                                                          How do you make a full-length documentary about a man tight rope walking between two skyscrapers, you ask?  By mapping out all the tireless planning and obstacles that led him to what seems just short of a miracle.  And in a playful, whimsical style of filmmaking that seamlessly blends real footage with reenactments and talking-head interviews.  Let me introduce Man on Wire (2008).

This documentary, directed by James Marsh, recounts the events surrounding Frenchman Philippe Petit’s incredible tight rope walk between the towers of the World Trade Center.  And he did it without permission, might I add.  The film isn’t one of those dry documentaries with a nap-inducing narrator describing each event step-by-step accompanied by boring still photographs.  The story is told entirely from the point-of-view of Petit and his team.  And forget about slowly zooming in on still photographs.  Petit has high-quality footage of his escapades, from tight rope walking with his girlfriend riding piggyback to meetings with his team as they plan his event.  This lends the film a homemade quality, like a scrapbook of memories for Petit and his friends.

The film has, from the start, and undeniable French quirkiness.  Petit’s passionate accounts, told in a thick accent with much gesturing and excitement, form the backbone of the film.  The reenactments, filmed artistically and playfully, blend so well with the real footage that it is often difficult to determine where one ends and the other begins.  The music and editing suit the mood.  There are often quick, quirky cuts between the reenactment and Petit’s own eccentric acting out of the story.  It is a joy to watch, in addition to telling an incredible tale.  I won’t give away the details about how Petit managed to accomplish such a dangerous, illegal feat, but I will say that it is at times miraculous.

Even if you’re not a documentary person, give this movie a shot.  Petit’s passion is infectious and his story inspirational.  And it’s all told in a very carefree, throw-caution-to-the-wind manner, matching its subject’s personality.

Review: Toy Story 3

Jessie's my favorite. I dressed as her for Halloween once.

My generation grew up during the Disney Renaissance.  The animation was stunning, the characters memorable, and the music brilliant.  When Disney-Pixar debuted Toy Story, it marked the start of an awe-inspiring age of animation that clung to the traditions of hand-drawn classics like Aladdin and The Lion King but offered a new and exciting visual style.  Toy Story 3 (2010) brings back that wonderful time in the hearts and memories of my generation.  It is just as charming as the first two installments, but it brings along with it an added tenderness.  Or rather, an enhanced tenderness, because its predecessors were certainly tender in their own rights.  But there’s something about visiting beloved characters you haven’t seen in eleven years, while the eager kids in the theater form their own childhood memories, that just makes the movie-going experience so special.

Disney-Pixar — and Disney in general — has always managed to serve up something that once seemed next to impossible: films that little kids enjoy and cherish as much as their parents do.  There is always the ideal balance between kid-friendly characters and storylines and the tongue-in-cheek humor and heartwarming themes that adults crave.  I could watch the original Toy Story three days straight and still be entertained.  In fact, I think I did just a few weeks ago when it made the rounds on cable.  How many kids’ movies can an adult say that about?

Toy Story 3 is no different.  It can sit proudly on the DVD shelf right next to 1 and 2.  The characters retain their one-of-a-kind personalities.  Watching them is like revisiting a friend after one day; nothing’s changed, and that’s comforting.  The plot of this film centers around one of the few things that have changed — Andy.  He’s about to go to college, and he’s facing pressure from his mom to get rid of his unused toys.  That’s how Woody and the team end up at a daycare center, which turns out to be dangerous and nightmarish.  The toys then, as usual, struggle to find their way home.

The visual quality of the film is better than ever.  The colors, shapes, and textures are realistic without sacrificing charm.  The elaborate staging and effortless movement of the visuals becomes sweeping and epic at times.  It’s incredible that a film could have such a cinematic feel without the use of a camera.

The humor of this film is one of its biggest selling points.  There are still the kooky sight gags for the kids — Mr. Potato Head’s constant loss of body parts, for instance.  But there’s also that familiar adult-friendly brand of comedy.  The cleverness of the writing never ceases to impress me.  From the effeminate Ken doll to the escape movie references, there are plenty of jokes that only grown-ups will completely understand.  And the advanced intelligence and ingenuity of these toys is so human you feel like you’re watching real people.  The inventive use of the toys’ features makes one wonder if one’s toys actually did sneak out of the house and return from an adventure unnoticed.  Where would toys be without Slinky’s stretchiness or Mrs. Potato Head’s missing eye, which still sees even though she’s nowhere near it?  The filmmakers use the characters’ toyness to enhance the story.  And the ideas they come up with are like the things we imagined as kids — the relationships they formed with each other, what they did to amuse themselves when we were gone, etc.

But what sets this film apart from the other two is the thematic content.  The love and devotion these toys have for each other and for a boy named Andy is beyond heartwarming.  In this film the toys become less like friends to Andy and more like parents.  As touched on briefly in the second film, through Jessie’s moving backstory, kids grow up and lose interest in toys, and most of the time those children and their toys are separated.  But like parents who must say goodbye to their own sons and daughters, so do toys have to bid farewell to their owners.  No love is lost, and the memories are enough to make the whole ordeal worthwhile.  The film hits home the idea that toys are a major building block in a child’s development, and can even serve as makeshift parents.  It makes one wonder what became of these toys that were donated or packed away or even tossed in the garbage.  This movie is a love letter to childhood and the simple experiences, like playing with a cowboy doll or a space ranger, that shape our lives.

See this movie.  It’s absolutely wonderful.

Have You Seen It?: Cold Souls

Not since Being John Malkovich has an actor playing himself — or some version of himself — been so offbeat and darkly comic.  In Cold Souls (2009), written and directed by Sophie Barthes, Paul Giamatti plays an actor named — you guessed it — Paul Giamatti.  When his portrayal of Uncle Vanya begins driving him into a funk, he seeks the assistance of a mysterious doctor (David Strathairn) who extracts human souls and stores them.  After the procedure, when Paul realizes he needs his soul in order to perform the tragic character properly, he begs to have it put back in, but he soon learns it’s gone missing — and it’s in Russia.

The plot of the film sounds familiar to anyone who is aware of the cerebral screenplays of Charlie Kaufman, namely Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind — which features a similarly impossible medical procedure and its consequences — and the aforementioned Malkovich — which also fictionalizes events in a real actor’s life.  The similarities are quite striking, but that doesn’t detract from the film’s impact.  Cold Souls borrows a major theme from these kinds of films — that one’s memory, soul, personality or experience is priceless, and no medical procedure can totally cure suffering — but then turns this theme on its head and creates a very different ambiance and style.

The film’s concept, while familiar-tasting, includes details that are wildly original.  Barthes takes the classic idea of selling or losing one’s soul and makes it quirky and tongue-in-cheek.  For example, the film depicts souls as tiny, innocuous objects like chickpeas or jelly beans.  I began wondering what my own soul would look like when extracted.  A button?  A gummy bear?  And the image of Paul Giamatti on his hands and knees searching the rug for his soul like a lost contact lens is twisted but brilliantly funny.

And the mood of the film is certainly not created through the magical, arts-and-craftsy style of a Michel Gondry type (Eternal Sunshine).  The movie feels as cold as the souls of its title.  From New York to Russia, the settings are continually icy — and not always temperature-wise.  The doctor’s office feels frigid and stark in all white and sparsely decorated.  The machine which extracts the souls looks like it walked off the set of a futuristic movie.  And the clothing and styling of the Russian characters are pale and angular.  This gives the film a harsh, dark quality which is soon offset by the juxtaposition of playful humor and eccentric plotlines.  The combination is appealing and fresh.

And who could ignore Paul Giamattis’ performance?  He is a subtle, quietly emotional performer, even when he’s shouting.  His performance makes a viewer truly feel close to him.  He manages to always make his characters relatable, and there are moments when, even though he never actually breaks the fourth wall, it seems as if he’s staring out at the viewer saying, “Can you believe this is happening?”  And isn’t it comforting to feel that you’re spending two hours with someone you get?

One thing I will criticize about the film is that the plotline featuring Paul’s wife, played by the lovely Emily Watson, felt incomplete.  I feel that she was introduced too far into the plot, and when she was present she didn’t have much of a role beyond listening dutifully to Paul’s problems.  It seems that a lot could be done with Paul’s relationship with his wife, as it relates to his soul, and I felt that Watson was not present enough in the story.

Cold Souls makes me hopeful that the modern cerebral fantasy will become an established genre.  It’s a breeding ground for inventive visual styles and original stories.  Filmmakers are continually playing around with the idea of delving into a person’s mind, soul, or subconscious.  For example, this summer’s Inception, while hardly a quirky indie dramedy, seems to experiment with similar cerebral concepts.  So don’t complain that it’s too much like Eternal Sunshine.  Be thankful that films like that have spawned such original ideas, instead of just another sequel, remake or adaptation.  Remember when movies weren’t based on anything else?  Those were the days.