livewire-6
A rejoint le janv. 2004
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Note de livewire-6
I'm in two minds about "Closer". Is it an accurate portrayal of modern relationships? Or is merely a brilliant conceit, a filmed play with clever dialogue that bears no resemblance to reality? Whatever the case, the message of "Closer" seems to be that truth has very little to do with relationships. Truth is something you hear only the moment your relationship is about to end, not while the two of you are together. Truth doesn't bring you closer. It only drives you apart.
There's a scene in "Closer" that involves a very racy exchange between two unlikely individuals in an Internet chat room. One of the two people chatting is merely adopting an online persona. He is not at all who or what he claims to be. The other is at least true to his nature as a sexual animal -- in his own words, a "caveman". Perhaps there is a message there too: that we are truest when we are true to ourselves.
The caveman in question is Larry, played with raw energy and passion by Clive Owens. Of the four protagonists, Larry is the most real and true. Alice (Natalie Portman) is hiding behind an assumed identity, though she is ironically a stripper who lays herself bare to strangers. Dan (Jude Law) projects an image of macho bravado, but is actually a sniveling, weepy, whiny little boy lost. As for Anna (Julia Roberts), she is an ice-cold maiden who sees genuine human emotion only as fodder for her artwork as a photographer.
All of these characters confuse wanting to be loved with wanting to be needed -- or to dominate and control. And they all confuse wanting to hear the truth with their real desire to be lulled by lies.
This film could have explored modern relationships even more deeply. There were hints of sexual tension between Dan and Larry, and between Anna and Alice. The movie would be longer, but the end result would be the same. It seems that, whether you're gay or straight, when it comes to love, nothing could be farther from the truth.
There's a scene in "Closer" that involves a very racy exchange between two unlikely individuals in an Internet chat room. One of the two people chatting is merely adopting an online persona. He is not at all who or what he claims to be. The other is at least true to his nature as a sexual animal -- in his own words, a "caveman". Perhaps there is a message there too: that we are truest when we are true to ourselves.
The caveman in question is Larry, played with raw energy and passion by Clive Owens. Of the four protagonists, Larry is the most real and true. Alice (Natalie Portman) is hiding behind an assumed identity, though she is ironically a stripper who lays herself bare to strangers. Dan (Jude Law) projects an image of macho bravado, but is actually a sniveling, weepy, whiny little boy lost. As for Anna (Julia Roberts), she is an ice-cold maiden who sees genuine human emotion only as fodder for her artwork as a photographer.
All of these characters confuse wanting to be loved with wanting to be needed -- or to dominate and control. And they all confuse wanting to hear the truth with their real desire to be lulled by lies.
This film could have explored modern relationships even more deeply. There were hints of sexual tension between Dan and Larry, and between Anna and Alice. The movie would be longer, but the end result would be the same. It seems that, whether you're gay or straight, when it comes to love, nothing could be farther from the truth.
I should have realized it was a bad sign "Finding Neverland" began with a red velvet curtain and a proscenium arch. Yes, I know, James Barrie was a playwright, and "Peter Pan" began as a play. But that doesn't mean that this movie should have adopted theatrical conventions. That results in a film that is, well, over-dramatic.
That's one of the problems with "Finding Neverland". It tries too obviously and too hard to tug at our heartstrings. Instead of stirring deep, true emotions in its audience, it succeeds only in engendering a cloying and mawkish sentimentality. And, worse than that, it wrings tears from even its hard-hearted villain -- the grandmother (Julie Christie) of the boys James Barrie (Johnny Depp) befriends.
Another problem is that "Finding Neverland" almost completely sidesteps a key point in any examination of James Barrie's life: the nature of his fondness for the Llewellyn-Davies boys. Barrie was rumored, though never proved, to be a pedophile. Only once in "Finding Neverland" is this issue raised. As in "Alexander", our hero's sexuality is not honestly explored. At best, this version of Barrie might be labeled an oddball or an eccentric -- a rather superficial assessment.
The point is not to pander to prurient interests, or to dismiss Barrie as some sex-crazed monster. Rather, the film could have considered how he sublimated his desire and transmuted it into art -- in much the same way as homosexual Michelangelo was able to create Adam, David, and the muscle-bound Christ of the Sistine Chapel's "Last Judgment".
To be sure, in this depiction of Barrie, there are hints of a lost childhood, of growing up too soon. And there is philosophizing about how quickly youth and time pass, till the Grim Reaper claims us all. But "Finding Neverland" fails to capitalize on an idea suggested by its final scene: that our physical selves may be mortal, but the products of our imagination can live forever.
Finally, "Finding Neverland" is simply too staid, static, and stodgy. Except for the scenes where Barrie engages in imaginative play with the Llewellyn-Davies boys, the film lacks dynamism and energy.
I was looking forward to "Finding Neverland". But I didn't think I would be finding Neverland dull. For me, this Peter didn't pan out.
That's one of the problems with "Finding Neverland". It tries too obviously and too hard to tug at our heartstrings. Instead of stirring deep, true emotions in its audience, it succeeds only in engendering a cloying and mawkish sentimentality. And, worse than that, it wrings tears from even its hard-hearted villain -- the grandmother (Julie Christie) of the boys James Barrie (Johnny Depp) befriends.
Another problem is that "Finding Neverland" almost completely sidesteps a key point in any examination of James Barrie's life: the nature of his fondness for the Llewellyn-Davies boys. Barrie was rumored, though never proved, to be a pedophile. Only once in "Finding Neverland" is this issue raised. As in "Alexander", our hero's sexuality is not honestly explored. At best, this version of Barrie might be labeled an oddball or an eccentric -- a rather superficial assessment.
The point is not to pander to prurient interests, or to dismiss Barrie as some sex-crazed monster. Rather, the film could have considered how he sublimated his desire and transmuted it into art -- in much the same way as homosexual Michelangelo was able to create Adam, David, and the muscle-bound Christ of the Sistine Chapel's "Last Judgment".
To be sure, in this depiction of Barrie, there are hints of a lost childhood, of growing up too soon. And there is philosophizing about how quickly youth and time pass, till the Grim Reaper claims us all. But "Finding Neverland" fails to capitalize on an idea suggested by its final scene: that our physical selves may be mortal, but the products of our imagination can live forever.
Finally, "Finding Neverland" is simply too staid, static, and stodgy. Except for the scenes where Barrie engages in imaginative play with the Llewellyn-Davies boys, the film lacks dynamism and energy.
I was looking forward to "Finding Neverland". But I didn't think I would be finding Neverland dull. For me, this Peter didn't pan out.
In the guise of an American evangelist preaching against the excesses of Britain's high society, Stockard Channing delivers the line that best sums up this film: "Beautiful young people, they call you. Well, one out of three ain;'t bad."
Cynically, and quite in keeping with the tone of the film, it is left up to the audience to decide which of the three epithets appropriately applies.
In my view, we may at best describe these people as young. Beautiful they may be in face and form, but their souls are foul and besmirched by all manner of meanness and pettiness. As for whether we may call them people, they may be human, but not humane. (Indeed, one may argue that the "people" portrayed in this film have little or no depth at all -- that they are cardboard cutouts without any substance.)
"Bright Young Things" attempts to atone for being a silly little piece of fluff by tacking on a "moral" at the end. Late, far too late, in the film, we are given to understand the gravity of the situation that exists outside the boundaries of the glittery, glamorous world of British high society.
On September 1, 1939, Britain declares war on Germany, following the invasion of Poland. London is bombarded. Some of the bright young things find themselves on the battlefront.
But most of the film is devoted, not to the Blitz, but to images of beautiful young people getting blitzed. The overall impression is one of "Fool Britannia", fiddling while Rome burns.
Is there a message here for Britain in the 21st century? That may be. But Stephen Fry's adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's "Vile Bodies" delivers, not a message, but a mess. "Vile Bodies" has unfortunately resulted only in a vile film.
Cynically, and quite in keeping with the tone of the film, it is left up to the audience to decide which of the three epithets appropriately applies.
In my view, we may at best describe these people as young. Beautiful they may be in face and form, but their souls are foul and besmirched by all manner of meanness and pettiness. As for whether we may call them people, they may be human, but not humane. (Indeed, one may argue that the "people" portrayed in this film have little or no depth at all -- that they are cardboard cutouts without any substance.)
"Bright Young Things" attempts to atone for being a silly little piece of fluff by tacking on a "moral" at the end. Late, far too late, in the film, we are given to understand the gravity of the situation that exists outside the boundaries of the glittery, glamorous world of British high society.
On September 1, 1939, Britain declares war on Germany, following the invasion of Poland. London is bombarded. Some of the bright young things find themselves on the battlefront.
But most of the film is devoted, not to the Blitz, but to images of beautiful young people getting blitzed. The overall impression is one of "Fool Britannia", fiddling while Rome burns.
Is there a message here for Britain in the 21st century? That may be. But Stephen Fry's adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's "Vile Bodies" delivers, not a message, but a mess. "Vile Bodies" has unfortunately resulted only in a vile film.