Showing posts with label Chris Cooper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chris Cooper. Show all posts

Sunday, 17 April 2011

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

There's one in all of us.

Where the Wild Things Are is rather like a live action version of Pixar's Monsters Inc (directed by Pete Docter, 2001), with some insightful dramatic parts, some laugh out loud fun and funny parts, but also some parts that are quite dark in tone and rather scary for under 10s.

When the film came out I remember there was some doubt as to whether the presumed target audience (kids) would take to it. Checking Wikipedia, they have a quote from the director that 'his goal was "to make a movie about childhood" rather than to create a children's movie.' In a home viewing context, with most of the cast running around in big "silly" animatronic monster suits, I thought it would be touch and go as to whether my 10-year old son would suspend his disbelief, but he watched till the end, laughed quite a lot at times, said he enjoyed it and would give the film 4.5 out of 5 stars.

The initial setup introducing the 8-year old boy, Max (Max Records), is very insightful, showing things from his point of view, exploring how lonely life can be in the winter holidays for a kid in a modern single-parent family, with no friends evident nearby, no siblings to spend time with, and a mother busy with work or boyfriend. Max Records is very convincing as a normally imaginative boy pretty much left to his own devices, who sometimes puts on his wolf costume and goes a little wild and crazy, like jumping on the kitchen counter and howling. In the heat of the moment, he goes further than that here, does something that causes him to need to escape the home environment, to flee to the country of the Wild Things.

The way Max travels to the country of the Wild Things is different than in the book, where the voyage is clearly and artistically psychological in nature, but it still works pretty well. A key question is how the filmmakers are going to tackle the monsters themselves. At first glance, seeing the direction they'd taken, using costumes with big heads, and animatronic expressions, like the Jim Henson creatures, the casual viewer might well be apprehensive, but as the story progresses, the monsters turn out to work very well, in large part due to the strength of the storyline, and the strength of the characterisation. So that by the end, the fate of the Wild Things is quite moving, and by the very end of the film, it had even got a little dusty in there.

In the book, which is very short, whatever else they may be, the monsters are an expression of Max's psyche, an outlet for the wild, wicked side of his character. In this film version, the monsters are that too, but from the very outset, they clearly have lives of their own that apparently exist independently of Max. To my mind, the monsters go beyond representing Max's wild imaginings, and are in a way more his imagining of the sort of virtual extended social network, extended family or group of friends that he might appreciate. The group of monsters that Max happens upon reminded me most of a small commune of aged hippies or community of artists, who have their own long-standing issues, especially relationship issues.

Because one thing that Max seems to be missing, that could help during times like these when he's burnt up or used up relations with his closest relatives, his mother and sister, is a deficit or lack that Kurt Vonnegut highlighted in his book Slapstick! or Lonesome No More (1976), and that is extended family (and friends and neighbours). Many of us in the west, perhaps especially in the USA, live in small tight family groups, nuclear families. And that's just not enough, Vonnegut points out, for animals who until recently evolved in tribal societies with lots of adults to pick up the slack when nuclear relations go sour or when those people need a break.

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Amendments: Removed link to Wikipedia-sourced image. Added ranking image.



Sunday, 27 March 2011

Adaptation (2002)

Charlie Kaufman writes the way he lives... With Great Difficulty. His Twin Brother Donald Lives the way he writes... with foolish abandon. Susan writes about life... But can't live it. John's life is a book... Waiting to be adapted. One story... Four Lives... A million ways it can end.

Adaptation is a wonderfully cerebral, ultimately solipsistic journey, the filmic version of a Cubist or Futurist painting from the early 20th century. I say Cubist and Futurist because artists like Pablo Picasso (Le guitarist, 1910) and Marcel Duchamp (Nude Descending a Staircase, 1912), though working in a two dimensional plane, found a way to include the third dimension, giving an all-round view of an scene, and in doing so, managed to incorporate the fourth dimension, time: the time needed to move round exploring a scene from different angles. Likewise, the makers of Adaptation take the story of a New York journalist's fascination with a remarkable Florida botanist, and incorporate the process of bringing the story to screen, which becomes its own story, the story of an obsessed screenwriter's agonised struggle to achieve artistic resolution. This self-reflectivity forms a plot of fantastically convoluted knobbly structure, like the surface of the screenwriter's brain.

The first few minutes of this film are quite disconcerting, as it seems as if we are going to watch a documentary, with the actor John Malkovich appearing as himself. But then when Nicholas Cage appears as Charlie Kaufman, a real life screenwriter trying to adapt The Orchid Thief, a book by Susan Orlean, played by Meryl Streep, we realise that the story is more complex than that, using a range of time-shifting techniques, both flash-backs and flash-forwards, and of voice-overs by Kaufman.

Using the structural conceit of twin screenwriting brothers, each following very different paths, one commercial, the other artistic, the filmmakers are able to have their cake and eat it, so to speak, that is, to have a product that is eminently artistic and cerebral, but also includes mainstream elements of dramatic conflict, danger, violence, action, sex, drugs, etc.

The three leads are brilliant. You can't help but admire Nicolas Cage and Chris Cooper for playing characters quite far from the norms of physical attractiveness. Cage is excellent as the sweaty, balding, overweight, anxious, obsessed Charlie Kaufman, and his twin brother and budding screenwriter Donald. Cooper is also great as the botanist Laroche, played throughout as a man missing his two upper front teeth. Streep is very good as the New Yorker magazine writer shadowing Cooper's character. The supporting cast is very good, with Brian Cox notable as a charismatic writing coach.

The film is a meditation on the creation of itself, and of the obstacles in creating something or adapting something that will be true to life... or not. Within its genre (solipsistic self-referential fiction), Adaptation is an exceptional example, culminating, if I understood the plot correctly, in a perfect exclusionary circle of self. The end credits finish with special thanks to the real-life people whose fictionalised characters we have been watching, bringing the story full circle back into reality.

In his intensity and passion and scorn for the easy well-trodden but temptingly well-paid commercial route, the central character of the film, the screenwriter, Charlie Kaufman, is reminiscent of Marcel Duchamp: "Following his maxim never to repeat himself, Duchamp "stopped" painting (1923) after 20 works and devoted himself largely to the game of chess." (Source: Idiom.com) We can only hope that Kaufman does not follow the same career path too closely.

Posted using Blogo from my MacBook Pro

Amendments: Removed link to Wikipedia-sourced image. Added ranking image.