The Wrestler (FINALLY)

This is the trailer for The Wrestler. This is the first film I worked on, and it is directed by on of my favorite directors currently working (and, well, EVER), Darren Aronofsky. I will try to keep this as free of bias as I can, keeping my details on the film itself, and not really about the making of it, my experiences therein, nor about the details of my trip to Toronto with my special ladyfriend (which I shall actually detail in my livejournal shortly).
In the early evening of Sunday, September 7th, I waited in line outside the Elgin Theater with my girlfriend. We waited for about half an hour, the line growing thicker and more dense, and then when the limos and black, tinted SUV's started to arrive we knew that it would soon be showtime. We were led through the glass and gilded doors that led into the massive, carpeted lobby, warmly decored in red carpeting and gilded panelling lining the doorways. We passed Darren, giving interviews to cameras nad journalists.
We walked to the auditorium, a massive, tiered affair in the back of the building. On the stage, backed with a large, closed black curtain, was a lone podium illuminated in spotlight. We found our seats, up on the balcony, which too was massive, and I admired the intricate design of the ceiling, deftly designed in Roman arches and a fresco, a giant gold chandelier (electric lights, naturally). Below and to the the sides were private booths with one or two seats arranged in the wings: for the most part these were reserved, but empty. I saw Darren walk in, and after few minutes there was a half-hearted rendering of "Happy birthday" as Evan Rachel-Wood entered the auditorium.
Befroe the movie began the preseident of the Toronto Film Festival gave an introduction, and then Darren and his producer, Scott Franklin, walked onstage. Darren chit-chatted, poking light-hearted fun at Mr. Franklin's new dress shoes, and then began to praise the crew, the film, and, in particular, Mickey Rourke. He introduced Mickey, who suantered onstage just like the coolest motherfucker ever: his hair was considerably shorter than during filming, and slightly dissheveled. He said little to nothing, but just chew on a toothpick and smile, putting a hand up in greeting. He wore a comfortable looking casual outfit (still expensive, I'm sure), and no tie: his collar was unbuttonned. He oozed cool. The cool he had in Diner. The cool he had in The Pope Of Greenwich Village. He had that subltly sad look from Spun. But damn did he look cool. Evan Rachel-Wood was invited onstage, and she was wearing a long black dress, very sporty, and seemed slightly tipsy and unprepared for a speech, instead wondering when she can get to party as it was her birthday. Finally, Darren introduced the film, after quipping if anyone would want to release it, and the auditorium darkened. After a few promos, the film started.
The film starts witha Quiet Riot song playing over a pan over newspaper clippings and posters showcasing Randy "The Ram" Robinson, Mickey Rourke's titular character. After the credits roll, we get a hard cut to Randy cleaning up after a match in what appears to be an elementary school, his back to the camera. And I quickly came to realize how different, stylistically, this was to any other Darren Aronofosky film.
The cinematographer, Maryse Alberti, spent a lot of her time following Randy rather than embracing him. The camera lets him lead its movements: Randy looks left, the camera pans left; Randy walks up stairs, the camera follows him, etc. The look is evocative of the theme of the movie: a man slightly behind in the times, over his prime, looking back to his glory days. This can also be applied to the actor himself, who has heretofore been referred to as a "has-been" (when I met him he was pretty nice and inviting). The camera is is looking back at him, like a weight tied behind him, slowing down his movements. However, once in the ring, the camera swerves and dances along with the wrestlers, playing the ring along with them.
What was most surprising is how deft Mickey seems in the character, as if he were playing him for years: Rourke is built like a man who has indeed spent the past 20 years doing physically punishing work, and the make-up on his face reflects that as well: hear a scar, there a pock-mark, there another scar. I had seen him nearly every day for 3 motnhs and was still impressed and surprised and moved by how subtle he is in the film. When his character is walking along Asbury Park (itself a run down attraction much past its prime) with his daughter Stephanie (played by Evan Rachel-Wood), and he talks about how he was never around, and how he deserves to be alone but he just doesn't want her to hate him, you can hear that it is no longer Randy talking, but Mickey. Often in the film I felt that it was Mickey speaking, not Randy. All the class and playfulness and fun warmth that Randy exhibits is really Mickey, the man, letting his guard down after 15 years of building up defenses. The final fight, the final twenty minutes or so, play so emotionally compromising that I couldn't help but root for the man even though I knew how it would end. The last shot of the movie...man. That gave me goosebumps I never thought I'd experience.
The other actors fared differently. Marisa Tomei is beautiful as Cassidy, ne' Pam, Randy's stripper friend who spends much of her time topless (no mind there) and fighting her barely-hidden feelings towards Randy, her only "real" friend (and vice versa). This is a very different role for Ms. Tomei, and she plays it very well, and she is very beautiful, even when bundled up in a thick winter coat in the middle of Elizabeth. Her face conveys a subtle sadness about not only her life, but Randy's: they reflect each other's failures.
Evan Rachel-Wood could have fared a lot better if she weren't cranked up to 11. But in her quiter moments (the aforementioned Asbury Park scene) she really shines. There are a few other scenes that I know were left on the cutting room floor that really developed her relationship with her estranged father, but I guess they slowed the film down a bit. Her final scene with her father is so small and pivotal, so final, her words so quiet and deliberate, it's hard not to feel what Randy feels.
The supporting characters are a surprising lot: Todd Barry shows up as the supermarket manager Wayne, a hard-ass on Randy's case; Aronofsky regulars Mark Margolis and Ajay Naidu (so nice in person, both of them, and both understated in this film); Wass Stevens as a fight promoterdoes his thing well; but much kudos goes to all of the wrestlers, especailly Mike Miller and Ernest Miller, each playing the first and last opponents to Randy in the film respectively. A particularly brutal fight against the hillbilly wrestler Necrobutcher is one of the highlights of the film in terms of action, but not the most emotionally rewarding of the film.
Again, Aronofsky changes gears completely, presenting an extremely down-to-earth, restrained, subtle, emotionally human affair, without the visual flairs he utilized in Pi, Requiem For A Dream, or the surprisingly unpopular The Fountain. Ms. Alberti, the cinematographer, allows the camera to flow freely in and out of scenes, constantly moving. I am otherwise not a fan of hand-held shots, but here I got used to it extremely quickly, as sometimes the camera is so smooth you fail to realize it is not on a tripod at all.
The production design is also effective here, and that becomes evident no where else as effectively as Randy's trailer, a decrepit affair that is dirty, dank, and trapped in the 1980's, a reflection of his crumbling life. The scenes in the strip club are also top-notch (in terms of production design...you should have seen the place before we shot). THe locations used also reflect the Ram's lifestyle and situation: the Acme supermarket where he works; the sad trailer in which he lives; the community centers he highlights for the few faithful fans; the empty, sad conventions where he makes about five bucks signing autographs; the decrepit ruins of Asbury Park, once a beautiful attraction, now left to slowly die in quiet indignity.
The music is the most understated aspect of the entire film. I didn't notice Clint Mansell's score (aside from the climax), as Mr. Aronofsky chooses hit 1980's songs to populate his soundtrack (to great effect --- when you hear "Sweet Child O'Mine" tell me you don't get excited, especially now that Guns N'Roses themselves are attempting a comeback of sorts with Chinese Democracy.) The highlight of the soundtrack though is Bruce Springsteen's original, acoustic song, "The Wrestler", which plays over the closing credits, a beautiful, quiet, sombre ballad.
The script (the first Aronofsky film not scripted by him as well) though sometimes bordered on pretentiousness and cliche. Robert Seigel, the writer, obviously has a deep understanding and respect of wrestling as a sport and "Art" (take that as you will), but in reading the script I felt that some scenes would be borderline boring simple due to the fact they've been done before in multiple movies. Thankfully some of these scenes were cut out of the final film. But there are moments where he shines and the emotion is genuine. Oddly, some of these scenes are cut as well...maybe for pacing or technical reasons). The Asbury Park sequence, and when Randy and Stephanie confront each other for the last time are heartbreakingly genuine. Kudos to Mr. Rourke also...the speech he gives before his final fight was all him...and, according to an interview he did with Entertainment Weekly, all true in terms of his life. He hasn't watched that scene yet...and I don't blame him. Todd Barry's scenes, while humorous, might've been funnier if the actor were left to his own devices; and I think the film suffers slightly from a lack of comedy...but that's not the point with this film: Randy isn't a man enjoying himself, he's a man obsessed with the glory days, the glory days long and gone, and coming to face that fact is a painful affair. The film has many moments of being fun...just not many of being funny. (Although that neon-lime-green jacket had everyone laughing, as well as Randy's playing Nintendo with a young neighbor: "Call of...Call of what? Doody? Call of Duty?") You root for the man, so charismatically and likably played by an actor finally respecting the medium, the art, and, finally himself. It's hard not to like a man who tosses potato salad as effortlessly and playfully as the Ram does.
Was I satisfied with the final product? Yes. Does Mickey Rourke desrve all the praise he is getting? Yes. He is no longer a badass. He is no longer a prima donna. He is no longer a loner. He is no longer the tough-guy playing tough-guy roles. He's back to his roots, an actual actor again. We've missed him for the past decade and a half (I'm 22 and looking back to his old films...and now looking forward to his new ones). If Sylvester Stallone can ressurect his career and regain respect with his Rocky and Rambo codas, and simultaneously force the studios to acknowledge the worth of their older actors, then Mickey Rourke deserves this chance at a comeback. He's worked damn hard for it in this film alone, and seems humbled by the experience to actually attempt to work seriously again.
I welcome his return.
Darren Aronofsky may have made The Wrestler, but Mickey Rourke made The Wrestler mean something. And sometimes that's the difference between a good movie and a great movie.
This is the latter.

Comes to New York December 19th, and in wider release January 17th.

http://movies.nytimes.com/2008/12/17/movies/17wres.html?ref=movies

Quantum of Solace

It was okay.
I was really, really hoping to enjoy this movie. And, to an extent, I did. I'm a James Bond fan. A huge James Bond fan. I've seen each movie at least 40 times each. I've listened to each of the commentaries, seen most of the documentaries, and read each book at least twice. I've listened to the soundtrack and can even hum some of the tunes. I can recognize each movie by the opening gunbarrel logo. So I found myself asking why James Bond was in a Jason Bourne movie.
The latest installment in the series, Quantum of Solace, derives its title from the 1958 short story, but little else in the movie is evocative of the James Bond we've grown up with. That was a good thing with Casino Royale, which introduced the world to James Bond. Again. That time he was in the guise of Daniel Craig, a more-than-capable actor who suffered a lot of criticism that was promptly silenced as soon as his debut Bond film was well-received by both the critics (who nominated him for a BAFTA, the only Bond actor presently to be nominated for his portrayal ofthe secret agent) and the fans (who responded to the tune of nearly $600 million worldwide, the most successful fim in the 46-year-old franchise).
But I digress.
Casino Royale is already considered a classic of the series, and one of the best action films of the past 10 years, and was highly influenced by the new world political order: one of fear, paranoia, and untrustworthiness (ah, the Bush Years have given us some of the best movies of the past 15 years). Action movies seemed split into two categories: dense, loud MTV-styled escapades, instantly forgettable; and serious-down-to-earth affairs. But its influence, the Jason Bourne series of films, has clearly reached far in reshaping the Bond series. Dan Bradley and his stunt team, veterans of the Jason Bourne series, were hired to helm the second unit footage for Mr. Bond this time around, and I'm afraid to say I wasn't impressed at all. The opening car chase would've been effective in pumping the adrenaline if I had known the geography of Bond's Aston Martin or the Alfa Romeos that pursued him. Several times in the chase the camera was so close to Daniel's face I was waiting for an internal monologue to start playing. Instead we get few establishing shots, a bunch of close ups, and an editing style that required me to use the opening title sequence to figure out in my mind what just happened. It like my action films fast paced, but I also like to know what the hell I was watching. That said, starting the movie in the middle of the car chase (itself an extension of the last scene of Casino Royale) was inspired, and worked to segue the last film with this one. The chase ends, Bond reveals Mr. White, one of the villains from the last film, in the boot of his car, makes a quip, and the titles start.
I am not a fan of MK12's work here. Nor of the title song, "Another Way To Die", by Alicia Keys and Jack White, whose jagged vocals do not complement that of his duetist (this being the first duet in the franchise's history, one would expect two artists who complement each other's vocals). Chris Cornell's "You Know My Name" was infinitely better than this, and Amy Winehouse's aborted effort (thank you Mark Ronson, you ass) would've been so much better I'm sure. The title graphics themselves (right down to the font) just didn't feel like Bond at all (a friend of mine sitting next to me leaned in during the titles and commented, "This feels like a college student's parody of a Bond title." And he was right.) Daniel Kleinmann, the man responsible for every title sequence since 1995 (the titles for GoldenEye and Casino Royale are classic and are worthy complements to Maurice Binder, who designed the originals titles for all but two of the original 16 films) is sorely missed, and I hope he decides to return for the next installment. Or that the producers remember to hire him that time out. David Arnold's score was decent, but I really REALLY wish he'd use the James Bond Theme a bit more with Daniel. If I'd at least heard that I could believe I was watching a Bond movie.
The next sequence finds M, again played by Dame Judi Dench, the only actor held over for Pierce Brosnan's tenure, interrogating Mr. White in Siena, Italy, during the Palio Horse Race, an annual race held in the streets. But we wouldn't know that, as there are no shots connecting the interiors of the safehouse to the streets of Siena aside from the few wide shots once a foot-chase ensues between Bond and a doubel-agent. And this chase was exciting...at least it would have been if Dan Bradley had used a tripod or the editor had incorporated shots that lasted more than 12 frames. In fact, I was hoping to love the scaffolding fight, to finally feel like "Okay, this is definitely a Bond moment". But I didn't feel that at all: the fight was shot in medium shots and close-ups, instead of the camera hugging the geography (I have a credo when shooting a movie, including my own stuff: If you need to shake the camera or or use handheld to generate a feeling of suspense, you should not direct an action scene. Tension comes from the director, not the camera.) The scaffold fight should've been typically Bondian in style, it should not have felt like an imitation.
And that's what I kept thinking on my second viewing of the film: I know this is a James Bond movie, but it just didn't feel like it. It felt like a James Bond movie that was trying so hard not to be a James Bond movie that it felt soulless. A serious lack of fun was also evident, as even in Casino Royale, the heretofore darkest Bond film, Bond himself was at least allowed some comedy, a chance to enjoy himself and his lavish-if-improbable lifestyle. In this film the only fun came in Gemma Arterton's character of Fields, and she suffers from an all-too-short appearance (I did love the Goldfinger homage though). Bond's quip to most of the members of Quantum, the evil, secret organization (that's where the title comes from!) was also great, as was that entire sequence in the Tosca Opera House.
But the dogfight in the desert? Man, that would've been incredibly better had there been at least 3 wide shots in there (I am amazed that there were actually not one, but THREE close-ups of Bond from outside the flying airplane looking into the cockpit. WHY?) The manuevers were amazing, the use of prop planes original in this day of high-tech jet fighters and such...but the camera didn't let the scene breathe at all, and in cramping the action the film cramped the tension.
The only scene in entire film that felt organic and real and fleshed-out was the coda in Kazhan. And even that lasted about 5 minutes.
Everyone in the film does the best they can with what they're given. Dame Judi Dench is given a much larger role here, and it's clearer in this film that she's very much the maternal figure to Craig's Bond, the only authority figure in his life (compare this to Brosnan's Bond, who was always seen as smarter than M, and who answered to no one). She's icily decisive (although her decision to start trusting Bond at the end and to let him get away to stop the villain is completely unexplained and unprompted. She spends the film trying to bring Bond in, and then relents at the end for...? I thought I'd missed something there first viewing. I hadn't. It just wasn't explained.) Olga Kurylenko does her thing and she doe sit well: a beautiful woman out for revenge. Like in the last two movies she was in: Hitman and Max Payne. Only here she's wearing considerably more. Her character, Camille, is one of the few truly interesting Bond girls...but I can't help thinking that her character is derived from so many similar movies. I don't think her character is a memorable addition to the cast, nor to the Bond girl lineage. Gemma Arterton, mentioned earlier, is one of the highlights of the film, and she definitely feels as if she's not only truly enjoying herself, but that she knows how to play within the Bond universe. It also helps that she's also undeniably cute, even when wearing a giant, brown raincoat. Anotle Taubman, as the henchman Elvis, is forgettable, nonthreatening, and does little here, which is a shame because he's apparently a very good actor. Either he had little to work with or what was in the movie got cut out. Jeffrey Wright, one of my favorite actors, once again does a good job as the new Felix Leiter, although it isn't really explained what Felix is doing in Bolivia. Giancarlo Gianni returns as Mathis, and what a welcome return it is. His final scene with Bond felt genuine, and it was apparent that Mathis was a character he had spent a lot of time making "real". But there are two characters that just didn't work for me.
First off is the villain, Dominic Greene, an eco-terrorist (get it? "Greene"? Clever...) with zero menace outside of his widely bulging eyes and Roman-Polanski demeanor. Greene reflects the current trend of "living green", but his scheme is considerably more sinister (cause a drought, allowing a deposed dictator to return to control in Bolivia, and then use Quantum to act as utilities provider for that entire country). Clever. Original. But not really "Bond". The final confrontation between him and Bond actually did work for me, as Greene doesn't look like he'd know how to fight, and that is exactly how Mathieu Almaric played it: fire axe in hand, Greene throws Bond off adn actually, for a few minutes, does apepar menacing. Perhaps all of Greene's more menacing scenes (as well as a less-abrupt introduction to him) would up on the cutting-room floor.
Oddly, the thing that also didn't work for me was Bond himself. Don't get me wrong, Daniel Craig does an amazing job, as he did last time out, but his Bond is even less classy and suave than he was in the first few scenes of Casino Royale. Bond here is too cold, too unemotional and too brooding to be likable (just view his sendoff to Mathis for an example). He's also unstoppable in the John McClane in Live Free or Die Hard or Indiana Jones in that last movie way. He falls out of a plane without a parachute and in the next scene he gets up like nothing happened. He chases a dude through a horese race and fights him on collapsing scaffolding and doesn't have a mark. He gets dirty and bruised, but even in Casino Royale he got beat up pretty badly, and wore scars following the parkour chase and airport sequence. Here, nothing stops him. He knows how to get out of any situation and knows that he's going to make it. Yeah, yeah, that's Bond. That's how Bond is played. Except for when it's played completely seriously. There is no quip, no matter how half-hearted or ironic (as Timothy Dalton, who also played a very serious, jaded Bond). And that's sorely missed. Craig growls his few quips as if he's annoyed. You shouldn't be annoyed to be Bond. You should be having the time of your life.
And the director, Marc Forster. His previous films have ranged from artsy to artsy. He never handled an action movie, much less a franchise film, much less THE franchise film. Relying too much on his second unit, he cuts the action much too fast, adhering to second-long shots, handheld cameras, and jarring angles (there were at least two canted angles...for NO reason). The "quiet" more character-driven scenes, oddly, didn't amount to much for the most part, and it felt as if he were just working furiously to push the story. Casino Royale allowed the characters to breathe and develop: here that's not the case, and it's surprising, given Forster's pedigree. If Forster had worked on even a small-scale action film he might have fared better...but here he seems to be winging it, throwing everything possible at the audience and hoping that something sticks. It was an interesting experiment, but it just didn't work.
So now Craig's Bond is fully formed (suggested by the use of the familiar gunbarrel logo at the end...finally!). Hopefully the producers will start to inject some fun into the series again, as well as a director who is adept with action, now that they've managed to inject some fresh blood and life into it. I'll still be in line to see the next one. A slight step down after stepping up the game by about ten storeys is no need to weep.
I'll just view this entry as an "in-between missions" movie.