Nick_Dets
ago 2002 se unió
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Distintivos5
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Reseñas108
Clasificación de Nick_Dets
The year is 1970 and Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Dock Ellis is feeling the pressures of the big leagues more than ever before. Infamously, he combats these feelings with the use of psychoactive drugs, which most people were clueless about "other than what they'd seen on TV with the hippies." On one particularly strong game-day LSD trip, fog and rain settle into the stadium and miraculously create conditions which help him to sustain a no-hitter. James Blagden takes this story, narrated by Ellis himself, and enhances it using period-inspired animated designs, a contrasting color scheme, simplistic editing, and humorous and clever sound design. Blagden builds the animation's tone around Ellis's laid back and playful account of the event, and the result is a five minute short that is so filled with hilariously exaggerated detail that repeated viewings are essential.
Michael Mann's recent biopic about John Dillinger, "Public Enemies," posed a lot of probing, psychological questions about its infamous subject, but failed to fully follow through on them, favoring the excitement and the action of the story instead. Maybe Mann should have taken his cues from John Boorman's sadly under-known 1998 film "The General," which is the real-life story of the strikingly successful Irish thief Martin Cahill (also known by the title nickname). This is a film that is so simply but thoroughly grounded in its subject's psychology that each scene is immersing and utterly convincing. The story moves quickly with a cohesive structuring of Cahill's dizzyingly ambitious heists, but what impresses most is how the viewer is always fully aware that the man enacting them is a human being, not a mythologized folk hero.
For that, Boorman is largely indebted to his leading man, Brendan Gleeson, who breathes authentic life into his character and therefore enables the whole movie to stand sturdily on his shoulders. Gleeson is so convincing in the role that it is not only difficult to question the presentation of the subject, but also to question or judge the motives and actions of the subject himself. That is no easy feat, as Cahill is a man who created his own moral code, having been disenchanted with local government authorities since he was a boy, and justified his criminal lifestyle by it. Gleeson humanizes such a rebellious, Robin Hood mentality by giving Cahill the amount of grit, working class pragmatism and playful humor that would most likely be required for one to successfully live his life like a perpetual cat and mouse game with the authorities.
That's not to say Gleeson's performance is the only star of the show. Boorman is in top form, with a lean script that neither misses a beat nor belabors Cahill's sprawling, episodic story. He gives key psychological and expository information at the beginning and lets the factual events unfold at a breakneck speed. The action is well handled, allowing Richie Buckley's playful jazz score to elicit absurd humor from Cahill's exploits, but the film is never too cinematic nor too self-consciously "real life." It is simply a great story told with soulful gusto.
Great biopics are fully aware that they are telling a story, and try not to let needless details get in the way. Boorman achieved this in "The General" by focusing on a tight story arc and letting the details give it muscle. But that's not to say he simplifies the material. Instead, he tells Cahill's story as a succession of challenges to his morally ambiguous, self-serving code which ultimately lead to his much-deserved downfall. By the end, Cahill is shown having lived and died fully by his code.
"The General" is anything one could want from a biopic. It's fast and entertaining while sustaining enough authenticity and ambiguity to keep things constantly interesting.
(3 out of 4)
For that, Boorman is largely indebted to his leading man, Brendan Gleeson, who breathes authentic life into his character and therefore enables the whole movie to stand sturdily on his shoulders. Gleeson is so convincing in the role that it is not only difficult to question the presentation of the subject, but also to question or judge the motives and actions of the subject himself. That is no easy feat, as Cahill is a man who created his own moral code, having been disenchanted with local government authorities since he was a boy, and justified his criminal lifestyle by it. Gleeson humanizes such a rebellious, Robin Hood mentality by giving Cahill the amount of grit, working class pragmatism and playful humor that would most likely be required for one to successfully live his life like a perpetual cat and mouse game with the authorities.
That's not to say Gleeson's performance is the only star of the show. Boorman is in top form, with a lean script that neither misses a beat nor belabors Cahill's sprawling, episodic story. He gives key psychological and expository information at the beginning and lets the factual events unfold at a breakneck speed. The action is well handled, allowing Richie Buckley's playful jazz score to elicit absurd humor from Cahill's exploits, but the film is never too cinematic nor too self-consciously "real life." It is simply a great story told with soulful gusto.
Great biopics are fully aware that they are telling a story, and try not to let needless details get in the way. Boorman achieved this in "The General" by focusing on a tight story arc and letting the details give it muscle. But that's not to say he simplifies the material. Instead, he tells Cahill's story as a succession of challenges to his morally ambiguous, self-serving code which ultimately lead to his much-deserved downfall. By the end, Cahill is shown having lived and died fully by his code.
"The General" is anything one could want from a biopic. It's fast and entertaining while sustaining enough authenticity and ambiguity to keep things constantly interesting.
(3 out of 4)
The Harvey Weinstein-edited, American version of Rene Laloux's ambitious 1988 feature "Gandahar" is a lavish, mostly satisfying animated spectacle. It suspends Isaac Asimov's sci/fi philosophy, Cold-War politics and psychedelic, Daliesque imagery with conventional plotting that keeps the story clicking along briskly with an accessible, user-friendly approach. Having not seen the pre-Weistein version, it is frustrating to wonder how much of Laloux's original intent was lost in Weistein's decidedly Americanized cut, but what remains is an intelligent, fresh and well-layered fantasy romp.
Weinstein seemed to hold "Star Wars" as a reference point, as he wielded the classical, Campbellian hero structure to ground its complex visual designs in familiar storytelling. These designs immediately plunge the viewer into the peaceful alien civilization of Gandahar, a beautiful blue world inhabited by intelligent creatures who enjoy a blissful political harmony. Gandahar is so peaceful, in fact, that its leaders completely neglect technological advancement due to a universal contentedness in the progress of the civilization. Inevitably, the peace is threatened when mysterious, unidentified rays are reported in nearby areas, causing Gandahar's leaders to send their young, precocious prince Sylvain to investigate the possible alien threat.
After coming into contact with the grotesquely deformed remaining members of a previous civilization, Sylvain learns of an army of metallic soldiers who are operated by an enormous brain called the Metamorphosis. They pull their resources together and fight the army using their wits, giving way to a third act that puts its building ideas into a fine focus while also delivering the expectedly rousing action goods.
"Gandahar" grounds its thesis in the fact that a civilization's strength lies in a fully integrated sense of past, present and future. The historical connections are obvious, as the film cleverly points out the inherent weakness of domineering political powers that combine brute force and radicalism in order to eradicate truths demonstrated by history and tradition. As a political statement, the film works incredibly well, as its blend of sci/fi philosophy and politics fit together naturally - reminding one that great mythology is traditionally political.
As an auteur piece, however, it's hard to ignore an overall lack of sheer, artistic wonder. Weinstein's (or whoever's) familiar structuring balances the film's many layers elegantly, but there is a definite artistic compromise present that will likely be disappointing to fans of Laloux's "Fantastic Planet." Much of the movie has a Disney-like simplification of its world and logic that prevents it from fully captivating the viewer with its whimsical absurdities. "Fantastic Planet" is spellbinding because it treats its viewer like a visiting alien, never over-explaining or belaboring its genuinely bizarre imagery and focusing mainly on an amazingly distanced, otherworldly mood – one which would have been suffocated by a driving, centralized plot. In this way, "Gandahar" disappoints in its overall familiarity, favoring traditional story tropes over bold originality.
To a viewer looking for a multifaceted, accessible science fiction fantasy, however, the film is a treat. With so many balls in the air, it understandably picked a straightforward approach and is able to satisfy a wide variety of viewers. It's just unfortunate that such an approach is what separated a good film from a potentially great film.
Weinstein seemed to hold "Star Wars" as a reference point, as he wielded the classical, Campbellian hero structure to ground its complex visual designs in familiar storytelling. These designs immediately plunge the viewer into the peaceful alien civilization of Gandahar, a beautiful blue world inhabited by intelligent creatures who enjoy a blissful political harmony. Gandahar is so peaceful, in fact, that its leaders completely neglect technological advancement due to a universal contentedness in the progress of the civilization. Inevitably, the peace is threatened when mysterious, unidentified rays are reported in nearby areas, causing Gandahar's leaders to send their young, precocious prince Sylvain to investigate the possible alien threat.
After coming into contact with the grotesquely deformed remaining members of a previous civilization, Sylvain learns of an army of metallic soldiers who are operated by an enormous brain called the Metamorphosis. They pull their resources together and fight the army using their wits, giving way to a third act that puts its building ideas into a fine focus while also delivering the expectedly rousing action goods.
"Gandahar" grounds its thesis in the fact that a civilization's strength lies in a fully integrated sense of past, present and future. The historical connections are obvious, as the film cleverly points out the inherent weakness of domineering political powers that combine brute force and radicalism in order to eradicate truths demonstrated by history and tradition. As a political statement, the film works incredibly well, as its blend of sci/fi philosophy and politics fit together naturally - reminding one that great mythology is traditionally political.
As an auteur piece, however, it's hard to ignore an overall lack of sheer, artistic wonder. Weinstein's (or whoever's) familiar structuring balances the film's many layers elegantly, but there is a definite artistic compromise present that will likely be disappointing to fans of Laloux's "Fantastic Planet." Much of the movie has a Disney-like simplification of its world and logic that prevents it from fully captivating the viewer with its whimsical absurdities. "Fantastic Planet" is spellbinding because it treats its viewer like a visiting alien, never over-explaining or belaboring its genuinely bizarre imagery and focusing mainly on an amazingly distanced, otherworldly mood – one which would have been suffocated by a driving, centralized plot. In this way, "Gandahar" disappoints in its overall familiarity, favoring traditional story tropes over bold originality.
To a viewer looking for a multifaceted, accessible science fiction fantasy, however, the film is a treat. With so many balls in the air, it understandably picked a straightforward approach and is able to satisfy a wide variety of viewers. It's just unfortunate that such an approach is what separated a good film from a potentially great film.