Happy New Years from below the Red River!
Django Unchained ('Tino)
Don Johnson got a pretty good role for once.
So too did Sam Jackson—who, as per usual, puts a lot of effort into crafting his own hypocritical character. Django ultimately becomes the Siegfried of legends told, remembered for his swanky attire, cool demeanor, and occasional fits of irony. But Django Unchained particularly succeeds in marrying a Leone spaghetti western to '70s blaxploitation, and much of the film's so flawless that the genuine flaws stand out.
I think that some sequences, shots, and even in-shot effects don't work as well as they should. The way Tarantino likes to adjust depth-of-field in a static shot, where two characters in a dialogue aren't all that separated to begin with, feels out-of-place with the movie's visual style. Nor does the overuse of anachronistic non-diegetic music work too well within the story's perimeter (though, I must say, Tupac's still a damn fine choice!). But worst of all's the inclusion of a training montage that wastes time in the film that Tarantino could have used for other purposes. I think he could have incorporated Django's growth as a gunner into the fight sequences for dramatic effect; Unchained's already full of interesting movie references anyway, so I don't think gutting the montage would hurt the overall experience.
Everything else in Django Unchained runs smoother than superconducting coins. Gibs radically glance off of strike points with a distinct sense of style, and every tense moment before a big explosion services the story and the big money shot incoming. The whole cast of actors never lets up in playing their parts to the best of their abilities, ensuring that viewers never have to worry about characterization and evolving relationships throughout. Perhaps the most surprising little mix of great casting and versed film-making comes when Tarantino's bit part explodes in a fury of dynamite, right after speaking in a laughably-bad Australian accent and looking like John Wayne all the while. If anyone wants to go out with a bang, then it's the director himself! It's not an ambitious story by any means, but Django Unchained balances itself on the threshold between genres, styles, and historical messages that still hold relevance today. And, because its 4-act structure doesn't meander like in many of Tarantino's earlier movies, Tarantino's film communicates the ultimate message of will to power in a clever and unexpected finale that, once again, involves Sam Jackson.
Joe Bob sez check it out.
****
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La Cage Aux Folles (Molinaro)
There's a reason this is one of the most frequently-watched Italian films, and it involves three reasons: Ugo Tognazzi, Michel Serrualt, and Ennio Morricone. It's so amusing to see three great entertainers in one package, a film that explores its subject matter with humorous hijinks that never let up. I'm grateful that someone went and made it in the first place!
However, I do have my reservations about La Cage Aux Folles. What's here works very well, yet Molinaro's direction feels too awkward and unready. The camera wanders away from the actors much too often, instead preferring to zoom in nearly all the time and give the impression that everyone is caged in—Tognazzi's reserved socialite, Serrault's honest homosexual homme, and all the transvestites and ultra-conservatives included. But why go for location shoots and a sense of openness in various parts of the movie? I don't like dissonance in direction, and this play adaptation would benefit from tighter and more consistent cinematography. It doesn't help that, outside of Tognazzi, Serrault, and Claire Maurier as Renato Baldi's former spouse, the actors provide unremarkable interpretations of their characters that contrast with the performances formerly mentioned.
La Cage Aux Folles also dithers in its pacing from time to time, meaning that more important sequences like Renato's pep talks with Albin lose runtime to redundant vignettes like Albin's shop visits. Much of the movie deftly gets ready for its final act, either through funny exposition or through naturalistic dialogues, so the slower moments stand out the most right within the film's middle. I'm only saying this because La Cage Aux Folles otherwise succeeds as a comedy of manners with archetypal themes of acceptance and social disorder, and what initially seems like mere ribald vaudeville turns into a sensitive comedy almost right from the start. Renato and Albin make for a dynamic double act; other characters like the bride's father and Laurent act primarily as foils to this duo's promiscuity, the former increasingly antagonistic and the latter already resigned to his own values. Slapstick disguises sad ironies of fate all throughout the script, and it's Tognazzi's deadpan deliveries and Serrault's swooning femininity that tie every little gag there.
As a play adapted for the big screen, La Cage Aux Folles also benefits from the usual luxuries of great set design, colorful costuming, and Morricone. In particular, the composer's gift with melodies and setting the right mood for any story renders his musical score both lush and oddly straightforward; whenever the music begins to sound like "elevator music", I get the feeling that Morricone wanted to provoke constant smirks from the audience. Everything from the butt-in-the-wall-panel to Jacob's fluctuating outfits comes together at just the right moments in the film, generating audiovisual humor that never quits giving. Of course, I'm mostly interested in that catchy soundtrack. The other elements I just mentioned—well, I ought to take those for granted. La Cage Aux Folles would be nothing without Laurent painting Renato's white walls brown with the manager's own gaudy makeup.
Joe Bob sez check it out!
***
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Yojimbo (Kurosawa)
Who's the Two-Bit Samurai now?!
Not Mifune. His performance sells not just Sanjuro's subversive simmer of a personality, but also the strange artificiality of the town he redeems by the end. I like to think that Yojimbo revolves around Sanjuro's quest for mental balance. When one gang makes massive gains over the other, so too does a part of his personality go out of whack. It's remarkable to think that, even though the movie sags within the middle act, and that the acting can get unreasonably theatrical in usually subtle moments of the screenplay, Kurosawa's film justifies its own flaws in the process of crafting a tense plot.
Most of the acting works fine—even if Mifune chews the scenery up, every performance counts in separating Sanjuro from the crowd. But what bugs me is the insistence on lengthening certain sequences that speak for themselves the first time around. I already know the gigantic thug's been beating Sanjuro within an inch of his death—why should I see the same activity over and over again? It's distracting moments like these that hold Yojimbo back every now and then. But it gets past these injuries regardless, and I'm coming to love the Kurosawa-Mifune collaborative period more and more.
Joe Bob sez check it out.
****
