Book Review:
In Six Days
John F. Ashton (ed.) / Master Books / 2000
We have reached the point where science has so utterly and thoroughly demonstrated the possibility and likelihood of evolutionary processes being the operating mechanisms behind the generation and variation of all life on earth that it has essentially been proven as fact, right?
Wrong. What we have reached is the point where scientists have become such slick storytellers that they can take a hypothesis which continues to be so buried in unanswered questions and riddled with holes that it is downright laughable, and present it with such grandiose verbiage and all the certainty of great actors that the public has swallowed it.
They also have become masters at scorning (but not disproving) the Bible's view that the earth was created complete in a six-day period. It is such scorn that prompted John F. Ashton to assemble the book In Six Days.
In a university class, Ashton heard a visiting lecturer state that no scientist with a Ph.D. would advocate a literal six-day creation of the earth, a claim also made by scientists such as Stephen Jay Gould and Ernst Mayr. The pondering of that claim resulted in this book: Ashton sought out doctorated scientists who did believe in the act of creation as presented in the first chapter of Genesis and asked them to explain their positions. He then selected fifty from among them and published the results.
And the results are very interesting. All fifty of the testimonies included are from scientists with at least one doctorate in a scientific field, ranging from geneticists to geologists to astronomers to biologists to orthodontists. All fifty of them have no trouble reconciling science to the Bible, because, as many of them point out, the presentation of evolution that scientists have foisted on the world is nothing more than theatrics. Behind the scenes, pro-evolution scientists have been observed ignoring contrary evidence, suppressing facts that would shatter their ideas, and even distorting their findings to fit their pre-conceived notions.
It is those testimonies in this book that specifically demonstrate the flaws in evolution that were the most fascinating to me. Though sometimes in such complex scientific terms that I could not follow everything being presented, I enjoyed hearing of the problems inherent in radiometric dating and the fossil record in the geologic column, both of which are two of the more common "proofs" of evolution. In fact, dating methods and the geologic column are so unreliable as to be useless in substantiating the evolution hypothesis, but those conflicting results rarely ever escape the laboratory because they are such an embarrassment to evolutionary thinking.
The irrational defense of evolution is also discussed in some of the testimonies, as many of these fifty scientists had first-hand experience with peers and colleagues ignoring or denying discoveries that would force them to discard their evolutionary views. Even published author Richard Dawkins is taken down in a handful of the essays; the inconsistencies within single volumes of his own books are plainly exposed, along with Dawkins' own admission that scientists have yet to discover one single example of a genetic mutation that has added information to the genetic code, an absolute necessity for evolution to be true. To date, all genetic mutations have resulted in a loss of information, which is in perfect harmony with the Bible and the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics, but which makes evolution entirely implausible.
The essays come in a wide range, from the highly technical explorations of radiometric dating and discussions of the mathematical impossibility of having all of the correct-"handed" amino acids form a protein for life to begin, to brief overviews of broad topics. Some of the scientists clearly do not specialize in writing essays for the lay reader, but the information presented is still positively juicy in its decimation of the naturalist view of the origins of life.
The book has two difficulties, the first of which is a repetitious feeling. Because they were all writing independently, many of the scientists present similar information or reference similar sources. By the time I was halfway through the book, I felt like I was not receiving any new information.
Second, the latter half of the book has very little to do with actual scientific evidence: While I suppose it is meant to be reassuring to hear even generic affirmations of the Genesis account from doctorated scientists, ten to fifteen of them said little more than just that – "I believe in the Genesis account" – in their essays.
But I am very glad I discovered the book and had the opportunity to read it. Those interested in exposing some extremely severe flaws (and deceptions) in the "facts" of evolution in future encounters would do well to keep a pen or highlighter handy, as there is enough testimony here on key points of argument to shatter naturalist thinking.
In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth in six ordinary days. I have known that with complete confidence since I was in high school. It is encouraging to hear from doctorates of science that their research leads them to the same conclusion.
Worth The Read?: Most definitely
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Home Video of Our Trip to New York
Movie Review:
Cloverfield
PG-13 / 1 hr., 25 min. / 2008
So you’re in charge of the video camera at a friend’s going-away party when something monstrous attacks the city. What do you do? Why, naturally, you videotape the entire harrowing escapade, no matter how hazardous it is to be holding on to the camera with one hand while trying to stay alive with the other. And that, friends, is the story of Cloverfield in a nutshell.
But I’m feeling generous, so I’ll expound just a bit more. It’s Manhattan, and the party is for Rob Hawkins (Michael Stahl-David), a twenty-something who has accepted a spiffy overseas job offer. So his circle of friends are sending him off in style. Hudson “Hud” Platt (T.J. Miller) ends up with the job of capturing farewell sound-bites from party-goers as the evening progresses.
The party has hit a low point for Rob: Old flame Beth (Odette Yustman) brought a new beau to the party, which inflames Rob’s envy even though he has a new flame himself. I think. The room was kind of noisy and I didn’t have much chance to identify characters before they became ciphers in a monster movie.
So anyway, yes, around about the time Rob is not enjoying his party anymore, The Creature From Long Island Sound makes certain he really doesn’t enjoy it at all. A huge shudder, a blackout, an explosion near the coast, and the sudden arrival of the Statue of Liberty’s head in the middle of a downtown street cause a certain amount of panic. People run everywhere, and Hud’s camera manages to catch a glimpse of something’s tail, which is big enough to indicate that even Godzilla will be cowering in fear – but I will leave that alone, as exactly what is on the rampage is the part of the movie worth discovering for yourself.
The central circle of friends, numbering about five, heads toward one of Manhattan’s bridges, but their way gets cut off. Then there’s an escape down into the subway system, and at some point Rob realizes Beth is trapped in her apartment deep in the city. Donning his shining armor, Rob heads back to rescue her, and his friends come along despite their own protests. All of which Hud gets on camera.
And that is where I simply cannot get with a film like Cloverfield. I have been the family’s camera operator since I was twelve. We have tons of footage of babies, parties, youth group camping trips, monuments, historical sites, coastlines, highways – I even have the entire experience of Disney World’s Haunted Mansion on tape. So I have a pretty good grasp of how amateur video footage looks.
Like its forerunner, The Blair Witch Project, Cloverfield is never fully convincing as supposedly accidental footage from a home video camera. The attempt is made to simulate such footage, with shots of the ground, feet running, and wild shaking images as Hud panics. But Hud has the unbelievable ability to hold that camera remarkably still at times – so still, in fact, one might suspect that he has either worked with a consumer video camera for years, or else has a steady-cam rig handy whenever he just happens to be recording something that just might later have relevance in, say, helping a theater audience follow along with either the chase or the human relationships.
Other tell-tale marks of amateur footage are missing as well. Not enough shots are cut off in mid-sentence. There are no notable digital artifacts that would normally result from the cajoling the camera takes as these guys run like mad through the city. The audio is crystal-clear for important lines of dialogue. In fact, for a bunch of college-aged kids, they found themselves a camera with a darned good microphone. The list could go on, but the point is that anyone with experience in “family vacation” videos will almost continually spot ways in which the images in Cloverfield are clearly orchestrated to look un-orchestrated.
Not to mention the fact that Hud holds on to the camera at all. Again, like The Blair Witch Project, a line or two of dialogue is meant to provide motive for Hud to keep the tape rolling even when he’s about to get shot or squashed. But it’s simply not convincing, especially as it arrives right about the time I’m thinking, “Why doesn’t he put down the camera and run?” Orchestrated to look un-orchestrated. A dead give-away.
Okay, so that’s my huge complaint. Having said that, I think Cloverfield is a much more effective movie than The Blair Witch Project. For one thing, it is actually creepy, whereas The Blair Witch Project was good for little more than curing insomnia.
I think Cloverfield manages to remain as passable entertainment because of one major element, and that is the creature. It’s creepy. Its movements are creepy. The parasitic things that enjoy a symbiotic relationship with it are creepy. There’s even a cliche “jump” moment toward the end that I must confess sent a slight tingle through me even though I predicted it.
In addition – and those of you who know me and my constant complaint about computer-generated living beings will want to buckle up and hold on, because I am about to admit something – most of the shots involving the creature are utterly convincing. This may be because the camera is jiggling, so aspects of CGI that are normally crippling to its realism are hard to focus on. Indeed, when the camera held still long enough for a solid close-up of the creature, I had my doubts about its tangibility. But I was definitely impressed by how present the creature felt overall.
The live humans are somewhat less convincing, however. Their acting is decent enough, but the script renders them all as units to be killed off instead of as interesting people who are actually identifiable from each other. Even now I am looking at the cast list and do not remember who was whom apart from Michael Stahl-David and T.J. Miller. As relative newcomers to theater screens they did a satisfactory job with the material they were given.
But oh, the material they were given! Run, scream, cry, mutter incoherent dialogue, mutter coherent dialogue that goes against all common sense, run headlong into dangerous places with no actual evidence that the goal is attainable or worth the effort. The first credit in writer Drew Goddard’s portfolio is for “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” which explains a lot.
Well, so, there you have it. Basically, I think the movie poster was more intriguing than the actual film. Heck, even my taping of the Haunted Mansion ride is more gripping. Who could resist a certain glee upon hearing that deep, resonating voice: “Kindly step all the way in, please, and make room for everyone. There’s no – turning – back – now!” Kind of like how you can’t get your eighty minutes back after watching Cloverfield.
My Score: 6
Cloverfield
PG-13 / 1 hr., 25 min. / 2008
So you’re in charge of the video camera at a friend’s going-away party when something monstrous attacks the city. What do you do? Why, naturally, you videotape the entire harrowing escapade, no matter how hazardous it is to be holding on to the camera with one hand while trying to stay alive with the other. And that, friends, is the story of Cloverfield in a nutshell.
But I’m feeling generous, so I’ll expound just a bit more. It’s Manhattan, and the party is for Rob Hawkins (Michael Stahl-David), a twenty-something who has accepted a spiffy overseas job offer. So his circle of friends are sending him off in style. Hudson “Hud” Platt (T.J. Miller) ends up with the job of capturing farewell sound-bites from party-goers as the evening progresses.
The party has hit a low point for Rob: Old flame Beth (Odette Yustman) brought a new beau to the party, which inflames Rob’s envy even though he has a new flame himself. I think. The room was kind of noisy and I didn’t have much chance to identify characters before they became ciphers in a monster movie.
So anyway, yes, around about the time Rob is not enjoying his party anymore, The Creature From Long Island Sound makes certain he really doesn’t enjoy it at all. A huge shudder, a blackout, an explosion near the coast, and the sudden arrival of the Statue of Liberty’s head in the middle of a downtown street cause a certain amount of panic. People run everywhere, and Hud’s camera manages to catch a glimpse of something’s tail, which is big enough to indicate that even Godzilla will be cowering in fear – but I will leave that alone, as exactly what is on the rampage is the part of the movie worth discovering for yourself.
The central circle of friends, numbering about five, heads toward one of Manhattan’s bridges, but their way gets cut off. Then there’s an escape down into the subway system, and at some point Rob realizes Beth is trapped in her apartment deep in the city. Donning his shining armor, Rob heads back to rescue her, and his friends come along despite their own protests. All of which Hud gets on camera.
And that is where I simply cannot get with a film like Cloverfield. I have been the family’s camera operator since I was twelve. We have tons of footage of babies, parties, youth group camping trips, monuments, historical sites, coastlines, highways – I even have the entire experience of Disney World’s Haunted Mansion on tape. So I have a pretty good grasp of how amateur video footage looks.
Like its forerunner, The Blair Witch Project, Cloverfield is never fully convincing as supposedly accidental footage from a home video camera. The attempt is made to simulate such footage, with shots of the ground, feet running, and wild shaking images as Hud panics. But Hud has the unbelievable ability to hold that camera remarkably still at times – so still, in fact, one might suspect that he has either worked with a consumer video camera for years, or else has a steady-cam rig handy whenever he just happens to be recording something that just might later have relevance in, say, helping a theater audience follow along with either the chase or the human relationships.
Other tell-tale marks of amateur footage are missing as well. Not enough shots are cut off in mid-sentence. There are no notable digital artifacts that would normally result from the cajoling the camera takes as these guys run like mad through the city. The audio is crystal-clear for important lines of dialogue. In fact, for a bunch of college-aged kids, they found themselves a camera with a darned good microphone. The list could go on, but the point is that anyone with experience in “family vacation” videos will almost continually spot ways in which the images in Cloverfield are clearly orchestrated to look un-orchestrated.
Not to mention the fact that Hud holds on to the camera at all. Again, like The Blair Witch Project, a line or two of dialogue is meant to provide motive for Hud to keep the tape rolling even when he’s about to get shot or squashed. But it’s simply not convincing, especially as it arrives right about the time I’m thinking, “Why doesn’t he put down the camera and run?” Orchestrated to look un-orchestrated. A dead give-away.
Okay, so that’s my huge complaint. Having said that, I think Cloverfield is a much more effective movie than The Blair Witch Project. For one thing, it is actually creepy, whereas The Blair Witch Project was good for little more than curing insomnia.
I think Cloverfield manages to remain as passable entertainment because of one major element, and that is the creature. It’s creepy. Its movements are creepy. The parasitic things that enjoy a symbiotic relationship with it are creepy. There’s even a cliche “jump” moment toward the end that I must confess sent a slight tingle through me even though I predicted it.
In addition – and those of you who know me and my constant complaint about computer-generated living beings will want to buckle up and hold on, because I am about to admit something – most of the shots involving the creature are utterly convincing. This may be because the camera is jiggling, so aspects of CGI that are normally crippling to its realism are hard to focus on. Indeed, when the camera held still long enough for a solid close-up of the creature, I had my doubts about its tangibility. But I was definitely impressed by how present the creature felt overall.
The live humans are somewhat less convincing, however. Their acting is decent enough, but the script renders them all as units to be killed off instead of as interesting people who are actually identifiable from each other. Even now I am looking at the cast list and do not remember who was whom apart from Michael Stahl-David and T.J. Miller. As relative newcomers to theater screens they did a satisfactory job with the material they were given.
But oh, the material they were given! Run, scream, cry, mutter incoherent dialogue, mutter coherent dialogue that goes against all common sense, run headlong into dangerous places with no actual evidence that the goal is attainable or worth the effort. The first credit in writer Drew Goddard’s portfolio is for “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” which explains a lot.
Well, so, there you have it. Basically, I think the movie poster was more intriguing than the actual film. Heck, even my taping of the Haunted Mansion ride is more gripping. Who could resist a certain glee upon hearing that deep, resonating voice: “Kindly step all the way in, please, and make room for everyone. There’s no – turning – back – now!” Kind of like how you can’t get your eighty minutes back after watching Cloverfield.
My Score: 6
Monday, January 11, 2010
Fun With Michael and Arthur
Movie Review:
Michael Clayton
R / 2 hrs., 0 min. / 2007
When a company gets into legal difficulties, it turns to a law firm. But where does the law firm turn when its lawyers get into trouble? For the powerful association of Kenner, Bach & Ledeen, their in-house problem solver is Michael Clayton (George Clooney).
The firm is six years into a class action lawsuit, defending the U-North corporation against farmers who claim the company’s agricultural chemicals are causing severe health problems. The U-North staff legal consultant, Karen Crowder (Tilda Swinton), hopes that Kenner, Bach & Ledeen can ultimately sweep the whole lawsuit aside.
But the delicate situation erupts when Arthur Edens (Tom Wilkinson), the defense’s leading attorney in the case, suffers a nervous breakdown: He strips off his clothes during the prosecution’s deposition, expresses love for one of the plaintiffs, runs naked through the parking lot, and begins to publicly assert that perhaps U-North is guilty as sin. To say this does not bode well for Kenner, Bach & Ledeen is an understatement: U-North could very easily pull the case out from under them, resulting in a financial loss so great that the firm would fold.
Michael Clayton’s assignment, then, is to rein in Edens and smooth the whole situation over. As firm partner Marty Bach (Sydney Pollack) subtly phrases it, “I’m telling you that by this time next week, Arthur will be under control.” But Edens will not be corralled so easily; and as Clayton follows Edens’ trail, he begins to suspect that maybe Edens is on to something.
On one hand, Michael Clayton is a standard legal thriller. Well-dressed lawyers racing to save their cases and whole reputations, powerful people hiding dark secrets, shady figures skulking in shadows – it’s all there. And despite its central legal case, it’s not a propaganda film attempting to blame the world’s ills on corporate greed and capitalism; it’s just a legal thriller.
On the other hand, it is not “just” a legal thriller. Michael Clayton is an original take on the genre that is crafted with such excellence that it rises far above its peers. The excellence begins with Tony Gilroy, who both writes and directs. Gilroy was comfortably ensconced in the writer’s chair – most notably for the recent adaptations of The Bourne Identity and its sequels – before making Michael Clayton his directorial debut.
What is stunning is that Gilroy works like a seasoned director who has already learned the difference between cheap gimmicks and real storytelling. He wisely avoids the shaky, hand-held camera work that is so popular today, and which has been used by other directors to no good purpose when bringing Gilroy’s scripts to the screen. Instead, Gilroy treats Michael Clayton with the calm confidence it deserves.
This confidence is reflected in the film’s pace, mistaken by impatient viewers as being too slow, but which is suitably deliberate. Some films – too many, in fact – seem to look the audience in the eye and say, “Here’s what this movie is about, and let’s get to it!” In contrast, Michael Clayton quietly lays out various threads – Clayton’s gambling, a hit-and-run accident, a nosey reporter – before the film’s primary story comes into focus. This will severely irritate those who like to be spoon-fed their entertainment, but it adds a nice layer for the rest of us who are in the mood to actually think about the movie we’re watching.
Additionally, having just watched the film again on DVD over two years after seeing it in theaters, I find it interesting how the film avoids being concerned merely with finding out who is committing what crime. Indeed, the crime is fairly obvious; Marty Bach even knows what it is, but it’s his job as defense to hide it from the prosecution team. The question is what will Clayton do with what he learns. Add to this the weight Clayton feels from financial troubles, family troubles, and unfulfilled career ambitions, and we get a film that is really about a person, not just a plot.
Playing this burdened soul is George Clooney (Syriana), who continues his streak of excellence by portraying Clayton as suave, confident, debonair – and tired. Clayton owes someone a large debt, and dialogue suggests the lender is less than kind about defaulting on a loan. His marriage is broken apart, he gambles, and he wearily refers to himself not as a legal fixer, but as a janitor. While it is standard Clooney, without any quirks or qualities to distinguish himself from the character he’s playing, he definitely finds all the right notes at all the right times.
Supporting Clooney are Tilda Swinton (The Beach) as a fraying wreck who does everything she can to maintain the unruffled exterior her company expects of her; Sydney Pollack (Tootsie) as Clooney’s boss in a performance that reminds me of how good Pollack is both behind and in front of the camera; and Tom Wilkinson (Batman Begins) as the attorney who may or may not have lost his mind. The voice-over that begins the film may sound like the ravings of insanity; but in retrospect they are very carefully chosen words, and Wilkinson’s delivery of them is an unforgettable introduction.
Director of Photography Robert Elswit subtly creates a very moody production not with any particularly original camera angles, but through the highly contrasted lighting in critical scenes. Shadows are darker here than they would be in real life, but the effect works to amplify the dark truths being uncovered in Clayton’s pursuit.
And composer James Newton Howard avoids a full-scale action feeling. He is keenly aware that the drama is calm on the exterior, with the danger being in the subtext. Like much of his score for The Fugitive, Howard keeps it low-key with some synthesizers and a select few acoustic instruments.
If the film has weaknesses, they are minor. There is a prologue sequence that does little more than get our attention before misleading us, and which could have been dropped entirely without hurting the story. There’s also a great deal of vulgar language. I suppose there’s a certain realism to it, but I’m not a big fan of excessive use of a certain obscenity which happens to be peppered throughout the script.
And some will consider the ending a bit too clean, perhaps. Real life doesn’t always tie up all the loose ends so conveniently. But then, I don’t pay good money to go sit in a theater and watch real life; I can do that for free on a daily basis. It’s always nice to experience a little poetic justice escapism.
I always sit through an entire movie, even the pesky ending credits most people ignore. The credits for Michael Clayton reveal something I find very interesting: There are no special effects departments listed. I submit that a movie does not require a barrage of explosions, chase scenes, and computer-generated fiends to be gripping. It requires a strong story brought competently to the screen by a skilled cast and crew. Michael Clayton is such a movie.
My Score: 9
Michael Clayton
R / 2 hrs., 0 min. / 2007
When a company gets into legal difficulties, it turns to a law firm. But where does the law firm turn when its lawyers get into trouble? For the powerful association of Kenner, Bach & Ledeen, their in-house problem solver is Michael Clayton (George Clooney).
The firm is six years into a class action lawsuit, defending the U-North corporation against farmers who claim the company’s agricultural chemicals are causing severe health problems. The U-North staff legal consultant, Karen Crowder (Tilda Swinton), hopes that Kenner, Bach & Ledeen can ultimately sweep the whole lawsuit aside.
But the delicate situation erupts when Arthur Edens (Tom Wilkinson), the defense’s leading attorney in the case, suffers a nervous breakdown: He strips off his clothes during the prosecution’s deposition, expresses love for one of the plaintiffs, runs naked through the parking lot, and begins to publicly assert that perhaps U-North is guilty as sin. To say this does not bode well for Kenner, Bach & Ledeen is an understatement: U-North could very easily pull the case out from under them, resulting in a financial loss so great that the firm would fold.
Michael Clayton’s assignment, then, is to rein in Edens and smooth the whole situation over. As firm partner Marty Bach (Sydney Pollack) subtly phrases it, “I’m telling you that by this time next week, Arthur will be under control.” But Edens will not be corralled so easily; and as Clayton follows Edens’ trail, he begins to suspect that maybe Edens is on to something.
On one hand, Michael Clayton is a standard legal thriller. Well-dressed lawyers racing to save their cases and whole reputations, powerful people hiding dark secrets, shady figures skulking in shadows – it’s all there. And despite its central legal case, it’s not a propaganda film attempting to blame the world’s ills on corporate greed and capitalism; it’s just a legal thriller.
On the other hand, it is not “just” a legal thriller. Michael Clayton is an original take on the genre that is crafted with such excellence that it rises far above its peers. The excellence begins with Tony Gilroy, who both writes and directs. Gilroy was comfortably ensconced in the writer’s chair – most notably for the recent adaptations of The Bourne Identity and its sequels – before making Michael Clayton his directorial debut.
What is stunning is that Gilroy works like a seasoned director who has already learned the difference between cheap gimmicks and real storytelling. He wisely avoids the shaky, hand-held camera work that is so popular today, and which has been used by other directors to no good purpose when bringing Gilroy’s scripts to the screen. Instead, Gilroy treats Michael Clayton with the calm confidence it deserves.
This confidence is reflected in the film’s pace, mistaken by impatient viewers as being too slow, but which is suitably deliberate. Some films – too many, in fact – seem to look the audience in the eye and say, “Here’s what this movie is about, and let’s get to it!” In contrast, Michael Clayton quietly lays out various threads – Clayton’s gambling, a hit-and-run accident, a nosey reporter – before the film’s primary story comes into focus. This will severely irritate those who like to be spoon-fed their entertainment, but it adds a nice layer for the rest of us who are in the mood to actually think about the movie we’re watching.
Additionally, having just watched the film again on DVD over two years after seeing it in theaters, I find it interesting how the film avoids being concerned merely with finding out who is committing what crime. Indeed, the crime is fairly obvious; Marty Bach even knows what it is, but it’s his job as defense to hide it from the prosecution team. The question is what will Clayton do with what he learns. Add to this the weight Clayton feels from financial troubles, family troubles, and unfulfilled career ambitions, and we get a film that is really about a person, not just a plot.
Playing this burdened soul is George Clooney (Syriana), who continues his streak of excellence by portraying Clayton as suave, confident, debonair – and tired. Clayton owes someone a large debt, and dialogue suggests the lender is less than kind about defaulting on a loan. His marriage is broken apart, he gambles, and he wearily refers to himself not as a legal fixer, but as a janitor. While it is standard Clooney, without any quirks or qualities to distinguish himself from the character he’s playing, he definitely finds all the right notes at all the right times.
Supporting Clooney are Tilda Swinton (The Beach) as a fraying wreck who does everything she can to maintain the unruffled exterior her company expects of her; Sydney Pollack (Tootsie) as Clooney’s boss in a performance that reminds me of how good Pollack is both behind and in front of the camera; and Tom Wilkinson (Batman Begins) as the attorney who may or may not have lost his mind. The voice-over that begins the film may sound like the ravings of insanity; but in retrospect they are very carefully chosen words, and Wilkinson’s delivery of them is an unforgettable introduction.
Director of Photography Robert Elswit subtly creates a very moody production not with any particularly original camera angles, but through the highly contrasted lighting in critical scenes. Shadows are darker here than they would be in real life, but the effect works to amplify the dark truths being uncovered in Clayton’s pursuit.
And composer James Newton Howard avoids a full-scale action feeling. He is keenly aware that the drama is calm on the exterior, with the danger being in the subtext. Like much of his score for The Fugitive, Howard keeps it low-key with some synthesizers and a select few acoustic instruments.
If the film has weaknesses, they are minor. There is a prologue sequence that does little more than get our attention before misleading us, and which could have been dropped entirely without hurting the story. There’s also a great deal of vulgar language. I suppose there’s a certain realism to it, but I’m not a big fan of excessive use of a certain obscenity which happens to be peppered throughout the script.
And some will consider the ending a bit too clean, perhaps. Real life doesn’t always tie up all the loose ends so conveniently. But then, I don’t pay good money to go sit in a theater and watch real life; I can do that for free on a daily basis. It’s always nice to experience a little poetic justice escapism.
I always sit through an entire movie, even the pesky ending credits most people ignore. The credits for Michael Clayton reveal something I find very interesting: There are no special effects departments listed. I submit that a movie does not require a barrage of explosions, chase scenes, and computer-generated fiends to be gripping. It requires a strong story brought competently to the screen by a skilled cast and crew. Michael Clayton is such a movie.
My Score: 9
Saturday, January 2, 2010
One Woman, Two Lives
Movie Review:
Melinda and Melinda
PG-13 / 1 hr., 40 min. / 2005
For several years I have wondered what would happen if two different directors took the same script and each created his own film from it. I think it would be an interesting study in personal styles and interpretation of the material. On my budget, I’ll have to wait a while on that idea. But with Melinda and Melinda, Woody Allen has attempted something similar: Two different writers take the same story outline and put their own spins on it.
Wallace Shawn (The Princess Bride) and Larry Pine (The Royal Tenenbaums) play two playwrights dining with friends. A friendly argument regarding the nature of life – is it tragic or is it comic? – leads to a little challenge: The writers are presented with a basic story frame and are invited to defend their views on life by fleshing out the story in their individual ways.
The setup: A young woman arrives suddenly at someone’s door, manages to get invited inside, and tells her life story, which ultimately disrupts a marriage or two and leads into a romantic triangle of some sort.
Wallace Shawn as Sy takes the material and weaves a comedy: In a depressed moment, the up-tempo Melinda (Radha Mitchell) has taken a suicidal amount of sleeping pills, then changes her mind and staggers to a neighboring apartment to get help. The couple, Hobie and Susan (Will Ferrell and Amanda Peet), are in the middle of a dinner party designed to impress a film financier; but Melinda’s arrival upsets the affair. Soon, Hobie is infatuated with Melinda despite his best intentions of being a good and supportive husband to Susan.
Larry Pine as Max takes the material and creates a tragedy: Melinda is an old college friend of Lee and Laurel (Jonny Lee Miller and Chloe Sevigny), and after several months of obscurity she shows up while they are having a dinner party with friends. Melinda has been dumped hard by a previous husband and is ready to give up on love and life. Her plight and her “short” stay at Lee and Laurel’s home become a distraction to Lee, who is already cheating on Laurel anyway; and Laurel finds herself falling for a cocktail lounge pianist (Chiwetel Ejiofor) who in turn falls for Melinda before falling for Laurel, thus leaving Melinda burned by a man for the second time.
I’m going to start by being totally candid: I have yet to see why everyone thinks Woody Allen is so funny. I rented this film because my wife was curious about the premise, not because I am a fan of Allen. I don’t even register as a blip on his Fan-o-Meter. But I will admit, equally candidly, that the premise as outlined on the DVD case did have me curious as well.
As an exercise in film production, Melinda and Melinda is a perfectly acceptable entry. The script works, in general; and Allen’s direction gracefully flows between the two disparate storylines, something that could have been hopelessly bungled and confusing in someone else’s hands.
Radha Mitchell (Finding Neverland) plays both Melindas, and either one as its own performance would not be any noteworthy achievement necessarily. What does make her performance worth watching is the way she plays both parts in one movie. As the tragic Melinda, she is a chain-smoking, jittery, nervous wreck who talks a mile a minute because silence would be too painful. As the comic Melinda, she’s spunky, sometimes cocky, and much more buoyant.
The supporting cast includes Chloe Sevigny (Boys Don’t Cry), Amanda Peet (Identity), Josh Brolin (Hollow Man), and Will Ferrell (Elf). If it weren’t for Mitchell’s tour de force as the two Melindas, Ferrell would steal the show completely as Hobie, the naive and energetic B-rate actor married to Peet’s high-maintenance indie director Susan. Ferrell is the high spot of the comic tale, proving once again that not all Saturday Night Live cast members flop miserably when weaned from their weekly moronic shtick.
Now, here’s my problem: Melinda and Melinda is simply not very enjoyable. Certainly either tale by itself would not fly far at all, but even intertwined as they are, they still don’t achieve a whole lot. The comedy tale of Melinda is really not all that funny. Ferrell provides some chuckles, and the climax to his evening at home with another woman is light, but the story as a whole falls flat. It doesn’t help that I don’t find much to laugh about where adultery is concerned. On the flip side, the tragedy is not all that gripping. I was not drawn in to Melinda’s story, and just didn’t care about her plight by the end.
I can think of a few reasons why this film didn’t work for me. First, the flipping back and forth between the two tales does not allow us to be completely absorbed by either one. Around about the time we just might be working up some tears for Sad Melinda, the story pauses and switches to the Funny Melinda, throwing us for a bit of a loop. By the time we’ve recovered and are ready to laugh, we are suddenly watching Sad Melinda again. I see what the film wanted to accomplish, but its method manages to weaken the emotional impact on both sides.
Second, and probably more significantly, the film avoids some potentially far more interesting methods of study. As it stands, the two writers are presented with little more than a set-up, from which they both quickly diverge. Alas, I was hoping for more sheer similarity. The opening scene (and the DVD cover) suggests that what we are going to see is the same set-up, the same set of characters, and the same storyline – but viewed alternately through a comic lens and a tragic lens. Once the initial dinner party is over, our two Melindas strike off on entirely different paths.
I was also hoping for more interplay, more ironic cross-references between the two stories. Yes, there are marked similarities: Both stories include a pivotal conversation in the same restaurant set, the introduction of an ethnic character who appreciates good piano music, and a woman attempting to commit suicide by jumping out a window. But in the end, both stories can stand on their own two feet. This may have been what Allen wanted, but they therefore lack the dynamic that would have existed if somehow neither story made total sense without the other. If the stories needed each other in some way, how much more intriguing.
There was another interesting potential as the film progressed. Over the course of a few scenes, it looked as though the comic tale were drifting toward tragedy, and the tragic tale drifting toward comedy, thus turning the tables on both of the writers’ assertions. But this idea did not come to fruition, and faded away shortly after I began entertaining the hope that the film was about to get interesting.
And to really drive home its mundane nature, even the wrap-up with the two writers does not achieve anything. I can only imagine how much more complete and rounded the film would have felt if, for instance, the author of the comic version had left the dinner feeling despondent in some way, and the tragic author had left feeling somewhat elated. I won’t spoil it – not that there’s anything worth spoiling – but the ending we get is rather bland.
I realize I’ve spent a few paragraphs focused on what the film could have been instead of what it is. That is because it isn’t much, when all is said and done. It is quite possible that I would have enjoyed the film more had I not read the promotional description, because I would not have come to it with preconceived notions. When the reality did not meet up with my expectations, I felt a little let down.
But I don’t think I would rank it as highly entertaining either way. It is competently created, which I would expect from someone as seasoned as Woody Allen. But it ultimately lacks any real spice, any captivating reason for existing. With all due respect to his millions of admirers, I will continue to wonder why people enjoy Woody Allen.
My Score: 6
Melinda and Melinda
PG-13 / 1 hr., 40 min. / 2005
For several years I have wondered what would happen if two different directors took the same script and each created his own film from it. I think it would be an interesting study in personal styles and interpretation of the material. On my budget, I’ll have to wait a while on that idea. But with Melinda and Melinda, Woody Allen has attempted something similar: Two different writers take the same story outline and put their own spins on it.
Wallace Shawn (The Princess Bride) and Larry Pine (The Royal Tenenbaums) play two playwrights dining with friends. A friendly argument regarding the nature of life – is it tragic or is it comic? – leads to a little challenge: The writers are presented with a basic story frame and are invited to defend their views on life by fleshing out the story in their individual ways.
The setup: A young woman arrives suddenly at someone’s door, manages to get invited inside, and tells her life story, which ultimately disrupts a marriage or two and leads into a romantic triangle of some sort.
Wallace Shawn as Sy takes the material and weaves a comedy: In a depressed moment, the up-tempo Melinda (Radha Mitchell) has taken a suicidal amount of sleeping pills, then changes her mind and staggers to a neighboring apartment to get help. The couple, Hobie and Susan (Will Ferrell and Amanda Peet), are in the middle of a dinner party designed to impress a film financier; but Melinda’s arrival upsets the affair. Soon, Hobie is infatuated with Melinda despite his best intentions of being a good and supportive husband to Susan.
Larry Pine as Max takes the material and creates a tragedy: Melinda is an old college friend of Lee and Laurel (Jonny Lee Miller and Chloe Sevigny), and after several months of obscurity she shows up while they are having a dinner party with friends. Melinda has been dumped hard by a previous husband and is ready to give up on love and life. Her plight and her “short” stay at Lee and Laurel’s home become a distraction to Lee, who is already cheating on Laurel anyway; and Laurel finds herself falling for a cocktail lounge pianist (Chiwetel Ejiofor) who in turn falls for Melinda before falling for Laurel, thus leaving Melinda burned by a man for the second time.
I’m going to start by being totally candid: I have yet to see why everyone thinks Woody Allen is so funny. I rented this film because my wife was curious about the premise, not because I am a fan of Allen. I don’t even register as a blip on his Fan-o-Meter. But I will admit, equally candidly, that the premise as outlined on the DVD case did have me curious as well.
As an exercise in film production, Melinda and Melinda is a perfectly acceptable entry. The script works, in general; and Allen’s direction gracefully flows between the two disparate storylines, something that could have been hopelessly bungled and confusing in someone else’s hands.
Radha Mitchell (Finding Neverland) plays both Melindas, and either one as its own performance would not be any noteworthy achievement necessarily. What does make her performance worth watching is the way she plays both parts in one movie. As the tragic Melinda, she is a chain-smoking, jittery, nervous wreck who talks a mile a minute because silence would be too painful. As the comic Melinda, she’s spunky, sometimes cocky, and much more buoyant.
The supporting cast includes Chloe Sevigny (Boys Don’t Cry), Amanda Peet (Identity), Josh Brolin (Hollow Man), and Will Ferrell (Elf). If it weren’t for Mitchell’s tour de force as the two Melindas, Ferrell would steal the show completely as Hobie, the naive and energetic B-rate actor married to Peet’s high-maintenance indie director Susan. Ferrell is the high spot of the comic tale, proving once again that not all Saturday Night Live cast members flop miserably when weaned from their weekly moronic shtick.
Now, here’s my problem: Melinda and Melinda is simply not very enjoyable. Certainly either tale by itself would not fly far at all, but even intertwined as they are, they still don’t achieve a whole lot. The comedy tale of Melinda is really not all that funny. Ferrell provides some chuckles, and the climax to his evening at home with another woman is light, but the story as a whole falls flat. It doesn’t help that I don’t find much to laugh about where adultery is concerned. On the flip side, the tragedy is not all that gripping. I was not drawn in to Melinda’s story, and just didn’t care about her plight by the end.
I can think of a few reasons why this film didn’t work for me. First, the flipping back and forth between the two tales does not allow us to be completely absorbed by either one. Around about the time we just might be working up some tears for Sad Melinda, the story pauses and switches to the Funny Melinda, throwing us for a bit of a loop. By the time we’ve recovered and are ready to laugh, we are suddenly watching Sad Melinda again. I see what the film wanted to accomplish, but its method manages to weaken the emotional impact on both sides.
Second, and probably more significantly, the film avoids some potentially far more interesting methods of study. As it stands, the two writers are presented with little more than a set-up, from which they both quickly diverge. Alas, I was hoping for more sheer similarity. The opening scene (and the DVD cover) suggests that what we are going to see is the same set-up, the same set of characters, and the same storyline – but viewed alternately through a comic lens and a tragic lens. Once the initial dinner party is over, our two Melindas strike off on entirely different paths.
I was also hoping for more interplay, more ironic cross-references between the two stories. Yes, there are marked similarities: Both stories include a pivotal conversation in the same restaurant set, the introduction of an ethnic character who appreciates good piano music, and a woman attempting to commit suicide by jumping out a window. But in the end, both stories can stand on their own two feet. This may have been what Allen wanted, but they therefore lack the dynamic that would have existed if somehow neither story made total sense without the other. If the stories needed each other in some way, how much more intriguing.
There was another interesting potential as the film progressed. Over the course of a few scenes, it looked as though the comic tale were drifting toward tragedy, and the tragic tale drifting toward comedy, thus turning the tables on both of the writers’ assertions. But this idea did not come to fruition, and faded away shortly after I began entertaining the hope that the film was about to get interesting.
And to really drive home its mundane nature, even the wrap-up with the two writers does not achieve anything. I can only imagine how much more complete and rounded the film would have felt if, for instance, the author of the comic version had left the dinner feeling despondent in some way, and the tragic author had left feeling somewhat elated. I won’t spoil it – not that there’s anything worth spoiling – but the ending we get is rather bland.
I realize I’ve spent a few paragraphs focused on what the film could have been instead of what it is. That is because it isn’t much, when all is said and done. It is quite possible that I would have enjoyed the film more had I not read the promotional description, because I would not have come to it with preconceived notions. When the reality did not meet up with my expectations, I felt a little let down.
But I don’t think I would rank it as highly entertaining either way. It is competently created, which I would expect from someone as seasoned as Woody Allen. But it ultimately lacks any real spice, any captivating reason for existing. With all due respect to his millions of admirers, I will continue to wonder why people enjoy Woody Allen.
My Score: 6
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