Showing posts with label Steven Soderbergh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steven Soderbergh. Show all posts

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Side Effects


On the off-chance that I actually do get to a movie theater and see a movie, I usually have high expectations for what gets my time and money. I maybe see two or three movies in the theater a year, so when I go, I want I want it to be worth my while. In other words, it takes a special movie made by a special filmmaker to get me out to the theater. I can think of no better dangling carrot to get me out to the theater than Side Effects, for it is being marketed as “Steven Soderbergh’s final film.” On the whole, I felt extremely satisfied by Side Effects and its slippery-slope of a narrative (brilliantly aided by Thomas Newman’s score, which reminded me of something out of one of Argento’s ‘70s films), but when I consider the film as Soderbergh’s last (and I certainly can’t be alone here), I cannot help but feel that even though a an appropriate encapsulation of the man’s career the last 10 years, it’s a tad underwhelming knowing that one of the great modern filmmakers consciously chose this as his swan song.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Catching up with 2012: Magic Mike



Steven Soderbergh once again makes a film that is about the body as commodity. Magic Mike ties in nicely with his 2009 film The Girlfriend Experience.  Even though I thought the unconventional casting of then-porn star Sasha Grey in a legitimate movie was more interesting than Channing Tatum/Matthew McConaughey in a movie about male strippers, there’s a lot to admire about Magic Mike even if it sometimes delves into oft-trodden territory. I didn’t care much about the whole A Star is Born narrative arc (mostly because I thought Alex Pettyfer, who plays the young up-and-comer Adam, was pretty terrible) or the way a subplot involving drugs predictably plays out, but there’s a lot to admire about Mike (Tatum) and Dallas (McConaughey) and the keen observations surrounding their dynamic – how they interact with other dancers, how seriously they (and Soderbergh) take their business, and how they aspire to be more “respectable” – and the performances that went into making these characters stand out.


Friday, November 30, 2012

Catching up with 2012: Haywire



After seeing Haywire twice in two weeks, I’m convinced that it’s one of Steven Soderbergh’s very best films. I’m also convinced that Soderbergh should only make films with Lem Dobbs writing the screenplays. The two previously collaborated on my favorite Soderbergh movie, The Limey (and famously had a heated audio commentary session for that film), and after 13 years the two reunite for this modern thriller that has little-to-nothing to do with thrills or spying or the sexy lifestyle we usually associate with films that cover such things. The action, though, is something else. Soderbergh wisely shoots the action not in the manic Bourne style, but in a proscenium style. By staging the action in long shot, two things work better than they do in other modern action pictures: one is that the action sometimes happens in the background just like he did in The Limey, making it far more interesting for our eyes to follow the action than your normal action film. The second thing is showcased in the film’s fantastic final fight scene which is cut just as quickly as a Bourne film; however, instead of cutting quickly and shaking the damn camera all over the place to give the illusion that we’re in the fight, Soderbergh strings together multiple long shots to give the illusion that there’s quick movement. It’s a neat little effect and a pleasant change to what we normally get with modern action films.

Gina Carano – the UFC star – is great in the lead role (she even gets to use a few arm bars), and as usual with a Soderbergh film, Haywire is littered with great supporting performances from A-list actors (my favorites being Michael Douglass and Antonio Banderas, who sports an amazing beard). Haywire reminded me a lot of the tone found in Soderbergh’s uber cool films Out of Sight, The Limey, and Ocean’s Twelve; he paints the screen in his usual greens, yellows, and blues; and he moves most of the narrative (which is pretty silly with the little plot it concerns itself with) with his typical French New Wave stylings as montage and jazzy music move the narrative more than exposition. We get a lot of layered scenes where characters talk while other action – either via flashback or parallel sequences – take place, and the film just kind eases its way through all of its setpieces without a care for modern action film conventions. Haywire feels like a mashup of the aforementioned heavily stylized Soderbergh films as well as Jim Jarmusch’s anti-thriller The Limits of Control. Effortless in how cool it is, Haywire made me giddy in the same way Out of Sight and The Limey did when I first saw those two films. It’s such a fun movie to watch (and watch and watch), rivaling Soderbergh’s very best. 

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

2009 Capsule Reviews, Part 2: The Girlfriend Experience, Where the Wild Things Are, Bad Lieutenant, In the Loop, Extract


Here are more capsule reviews for the year 2009.  I still have a handful of films to get to.  On the 25th I'll post my year-end wrap up, which will also mark my two year anniversary with the blog.  Until then here are some snapshot reviews of some pretty good movies I watched in the last couple of weeks...

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Revisiting 1999: The Top 10 Films of the Year, #10 --- The Limey (Steven Soderbergh)


Steven Soderbergh’s neo noir-revenge tale The Limey is about as ordinary a story as you will likely see. You have a man named Wilson (Terrence Stamp) fresh out of prison and seeking revenge on the man who was responsible for his daughters death, a hipster 60’s record producer Valentine (played by Peter Fonda, in a bit of perfect casting) who “tapped into the 60’s zeitgeist and ran with it.” Along the way Wilson gathers information from new-found friends who aide him in finding out the truth about his daughter (great supporting roles by Luis Guzman and Leslie Ann Warren). All of this sounds rather ordinary and banal, however, Soderbergh and his editor Sarah Flack dice up the films events in a way that makes it feel fresh, and surprisingly, free from all contrivances.


The aesthetic isn’t simply a distraction from Lem Dobbs’ rather ho-hum attempt at neo-noir; it serves as a perfect coda for these icons of 60’s cinema. The film plays out like the long awaited final showdown between two aging gunslingers. Wilson is a machine in the way he goes about getting information, and Valentine is a man who is content hiring out for people to do his dirty work. Valentine still (like Fonda) evokes that certain quality about the 60’s that makes him almost likable – he just can’t seem to separate himself from the era that made him so much money (and yes we’re talking about Valentine the character and Fonda the actor, here).

I also like how Soderbergh splices in footage from Stamp’s films from the 60’s (especially a beautiful piece of footage that ends the film in a poetic, elegiac way) to act his memories of his daughter when she was younger. Soderbergh also appropriately opens the film with The Who’s “The Seeker” – the perfect song to be playing in the background as Wilson begins his search for the truth. All of the elements are here, presented in a way that gives a fitting send off to these recognizable stars from the 60’s. The film even feels free from all hindrances associated with modern filmmaking…it has that 60’s “free and easy” attitude about filmmaking – the vibe found in the films that made Fonda a star of that decade.

At a brusque 88 minutes there’s nothing superlative in The Limey. It’s one of Soderbergh’s best films, and the one film where he shows the most restraint. There’s a great scene where Wilson is approached by a bodyguard at Valentine’s place, and in a botched attempt to throw Wilson out of the party the bodyguard ends up getting head-butted and tossed over the railing. The scene is made all the more interesting by the fact that the action doesn’t appear in the foreground. Instead the viewer is listening to Valentine talk about the horrible parking situation on Venice Beach, and in the background we see Wilson toss the bodyguard over the rail. It’s a perfectly executed scene because of Soderbergh’s restraint.

Another great scene sees Wilson entering a garage of sorts where a bunch of toughs work. He’s looking for some information about his daughter but gets beat up for his troubles and thrown out on the pavement. Soderbergh keeps his camera at bay, as we watch Wilson walk back into the garage and the next thing we hear are gunshots and men screaming. Then a man comes running out past the camera. The static camera begins to move in to get a closer look at a bloodied Wilson as he screams: “You tell him I’m coming!” The fact that Soderbergh shot the scene in long shot makes it much funnier and a better effect as opposed to if he would have followed Wilson in and shot all of the bloody action. The scene reminded me of the end of William Wellman’s brilliant noir The Public Enemies where the viewer is deprived of the final shoot-out as the camera sits outside in the rain and all we hear are gunshots from inside a building.

There’s no doubt that the editing is the star of the film here, but Terrence Stamp is pretty damn brilliant, too. He plays Wilson with a head-to-the-ground intensity that reminded me of the robot from Westworld. Soderbergh trusts his audiences to know why the characters – Stamp playing an ex-con and Fonda playing a man who profited off the 60’s zeitgeist – need no fleshing out. It allows him to pace his film effectively at 88 minuets, a perfect time for the audience to be swept away by the interesting editing technique (obviously influenced by one of Soderbergh’s favorite movements The French New Wave) and great performances before realizing that this story is old hat.

Today filmmakers employ all kinds of editing trickery to try and make their films appear like they are saying something, when in reality they are just annoying attempts at distracting the viewer from what’s really going on: no storytelling ability. Soderbergh is seemingly doing the same thing here, but by showing scenes out of order, and context – mixing in dialogue from one scene with multiple locations – he is giving us the recollection of events through Wilson’s memory as he thinks back on his trip to the States while aboard a plane.

In addition to the editing, Soderbergh really shows his chops in the way he wisely uses the hand-held format. Any filmmaker who wants to know how to effectively use the hand-held format should watch this film (and others by Soderbergh) because Soderbergh is a master at it. Nothing feels shaky for the sake of being shaky – every camera bump or unsteady movement is the perfect accompaniment to what is going on in Wilson’s quest for answers about his dead daughter.

This film was kind of the jumping off point for Soderbergh’s recent success. Sure he made it big with his Sundance smash Sex, Lies, and Videotape; but, The Limey, and the film that came out the year before Out of Sight, reaffirmed his skill (in the public eye...I've always loved his work...even his failures are interesting failures) as a director after a few flops: Kafka was an experimental failure (even though I quite like the film), King of the Hill was a brilliant film but failed to get him recognized by a wider audience, The Underneath was a filed attempt at noir, and Schizopolis was clearly a personal film with no intention of making money. All of these films failed to get him the same recognition his debut Sundance hit did.

However, after the critical success of Out of Sight and The Limey Soderbergh made financial headlines with his underdog film Erin Brokavich, and in the same year his interpolated masterpiece Traffic – which kind of set the trend for the hyper-link films that would follow (Syriana, Babel, Crash, et al). Since Soderbergh has gone the Frank Capra route: one personal film and one for the studio. In between the Ocean movies Soderbergh has made the brilliant Bubble, the not-so-brilliant Full Frontal, the criminally underrated Solaris, Che, and The Girlfriend Experience. Soderbergh is a director of astonishing talent, and lost in his oeuvre is this small classic from 1999. The Limey may not be the sexiest film on Soderbergh’s resume, but there’s no denying that it’s one of his most interesting and successful experiments.

A special shout-out to one of my favorite character actors Bill Duke who has a small role as a DEA agent. Hence the picture of him below. Hehe.



Wednesday, May 6, 2009

DVD Review: Le Cercle Rouge



There’s a certain kind of aura to Jean-Pierre Melville’s films; a kind of gravitational pull that sucks you into the story and places you in the most wonderful kind of reverie. True, there isn’t much that “happens” in Melville’s films, but they are always teeming with a confidence, a certain suaveness that is seen through all of Melville’s characters, especially Corey and Vogel from Melville’s 1970 crime masterpiece Le Cercle Rouge. When one watches Melville you know you are in the hands of a master.

Like all of Melville’s films there is a deliberate pace, with minimal post production, that allows the viewer to sit back and fully take in what is happening on the screen. There may be a scene that goes on for five minutes that contains two people looking at each other, but these scenes are never plodding, rather they allow the viewer to fill in the blanks, drawing their own conclusions about the histories Melville’s characters might have shared. When you watch a Melville film you are in the presence of a master hypnotist; it’s a state of reverie you won’t find in any of the other French New Wave filmmakers – who always seemed to want to distract you with a barrage of freeze frames and other New Wave tactics. Rohmer, Resnais, Malle, Goddard, and Truffaut; all of them shrink in comparison to Melville, and Le Cercle Rouge is a perfect film to admit as evidence.



Loneliness is not what you come to expect from crime/caper films; nor are deep existential themes: themes of chance, happenstance, and a general “what if?” feeling. Where’s the fun in that? Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Cercle Rouge tackles some of these unconventional themes (for a crime film, anyway); however, it’s also an utter joy to watch in addition to being deeply contemplative.

The film begins with a quote from the Buddhist Ramayana that gives the viewer some insight into how the film will play out. The quote mentions that people who perform the same duties will eventually meet within the red circle. Luck, chance, or happenstance is what guides these people into the red circle. The two characters who encounter each other through chance are Vogel (Gian-Maria Volonte), a recently escaped convict, and Corey (Alain Delon), a recently released convict. Corey knows of a heist that “can’t miss” from a police guard in the prison who is actually friends with Corey.

Corey, upon his release, pays a visit to his old mob boss Rico. Corey steals his gun and some money and then tells him he’ll pay him back. He then leaves to play some billiards late at night (an old stomping ground perhaps), and it is here we see what Corey is capable of doing as he quickly dispatches two henchmen sent from Rico. Corey then buys a car, stops to eat at a restaurant, and there is when he and Vogel will meet.

Vogel has just escaped from a train, being guarded by policeman Mattei (André Bourvil). Mattei knows Vogel better than anyone, and like any good Melville film, the opening of the film is played out with little to no exposition; so, it’s on the viewer to try to fill in the blanks and the assumed long standing cat/mouse relationship these two have. In a wonderfully executed (and mostly silent) escape scene, Vogel finds himself at the diner that Corey is at. He hops in the trunk of his car, and when Corey is at the next check point (the police have set up barricades to look for Vogel at this point) Corey claims that the dealership never gave him the key for the trunk, when at an earlier check point, before Vogel jumped in his car, he opened the trunk, no problem. Again, this is one of those brilliant little moments that Melville stages that says so much by saying so little, and the onus, once again is on the viewer to make that connection.

Corey and Vogel finally meet as Corey drives out into the middle of nowhere and tell Vogel he can come out of the trunk and that he’s safe. Corey tosses him some cigarettes as a sign of friendship, and these two professional criminals can tell just by looking at each other that they can trust one another, and that Corey saved Vogel because of the unwritten code that criminals abide by.

That’s essentially your set up for what is a fantastic, and highly influential, crime film. Vogel and Corey recruit Jansen (Yves Montand), an ex-police sharpshooter to join their jewel heist plans. Mattei, searching for Vogel still, now realizes that he may be searching for more people. He is under a lot of pressure from his boss, the police director (who is pure existential style gives a speech about how all men are guilty) so he visits an old informant friend Santi, the owner of the nightclub, to help him act as an informant and bring down Corey and Vogel.

The plot is intricate, but executed in the most simplistic, minimalist way possible – that is not to say that the film isn’t deep; rather, its simplicity allows for those wonderful moments of contemplation I alluded to earlier: where the viewer is drawing their own conclusions and creating their own past histories for these characters. The film contains scene after scene of brilliantly understated coolness. It all leads to one of the most brilliantly executed and taut heist scenes I’ve ever seen in a film – all without the aid of post production or unnecessary expository dialogue during the scene. The heist scene is at least 30 minutes long, but the scene is filmed as if the viewer were doing the job with the criminals. It’s highly effective and never boring; it’s definitely the highlight of the film, and Melville didn’t have to ‘sex’ up the scene to make it more ‘interesting’ or ‘entertaining’ for the viewer – he trusts the scene to be interesting enough to keep the viewer on the edge of their seat. That is what makes Melville’s films so fascinating: he doesn’t have to say much for the viewer to draw some pretty deep conclusions about the film. Plus, compounding on all of that is the very basic element (and ultimate goal of film) that this film is extremely entertaining.

Melville has had somewhat of a resurgence in the last ten years. He’s now getting the recognition as one of the premiere New Waver’s, and his influence is all over the films of directors like Steven Soderbergh (more aesthetically than anything) and especially Jim Jarmusch (Ghost Dog has a lot of Melville in it, think of the deliberate pace of that film, as well as other Jarmusch films that are existential exercises that say very little and allow the view to contemplate the film has it is happening).

His Influence on Soderbergh’s Ocean’s Twelve, specifically, is apparent: everything from the locations, to the way they pull of the heist, to the way Soderbergh dresses up Casey Affleck to look like Corey. Soderbergh has always been indebted to the French New Wave with his copious amounts of zooms (both pulling in and out) and his love jazzy music accompanying his camera on a long pull in, usually focusing on a woman walking down the street (I’m specifically thinking of the introduction to Catherine-Zeta Jones’ character in Ocean’s Twelve; very New Wave). So, it’s great to see these two great filmmakers taking after a somewhat forgotten (until recently) figure of the French New Wave.

I mentioned earlier about the loneliness found in the film: this is not the style of crime film that Scorsese would popularize a few years later with Mean Streets, then in the 90’s with Goodfellas, and culminating in Casino: all films about professional criminals (specifically Italian mobsters/gangsters in Scorsese’s world) that experience varying degrees of success, only to come crashing down by the films climax. So too do Vargas and Corey experience some good times, mostly in regards to their new found friendship – the heist goes off well, too – but how fitting that Melville end his suave, confident crime film about suave, confident criminals with his two main characters shot and dirtied, their downfall is not as operatic or theatrical as Scorsese’s gangsters, but it’s just as tragic.

As mentioned earlier the film is not merely an existential contemplative exercise – it has style to spare. Melville’s aesthetics are nothing like his fellow New Waver’s, he is far more subtle, but Le Cercle Rouge’s attitude is in the same spirit as Godard’s film, for instance, and you’re always certain that you’re in the hands of a master. Melville gives most of his actors the onus of carrying the attitude and portraying the suave criminals, so that the effect is far more subtle. Consider Corey: he never shoots anyone, but when he holds a gun, he looks like he knows what he’s doing with it. Look at the way Melville’s characters smoke a cigarette – countless filmmakers have probably coached their actors on how to be cool by referencing Melville, and specifically this film. That attitude and style elevate it from being simply a morose, existential character study about the loneliness of criminals (although that is definitely lurking in Melville’s films, especially Le Samourai). Melville, more than anything else, seems interested in the camaraderie, the friendship of this rag-tag group of criminals that occurred through mere happenstance. If Corey’s trunk wouldn’t have been available, then he would have never met Vogel.

About chance: this is something that as a professional criminal you would not subscribe to. Look at the contrast between the meticulously planned heist at the end of the film, and the chance meeting between Corey and Vogel. Melville likes to play with the notion of happenstance and how it ultimately acts as the downfall for these criminals; which makes sense, because really a criminal who relies solely on luck is bound to get caught.

The film is also a masterpiece in mis-en-scene. Consider the still above: Corey is talking with Jansen about selling off the jewelery they just stole. Jansen explains to Corey that he doesn't want his cut of the loot. Corey has freed him of his demons (there is a very bizarre nightmare scene as we are introduced to Jansen, as obviously he did something as a policeman that he wasn't proud of) and that is enough of a payment. An odd thing to say for a criminal, and look at the picture on the wall as Corey and Jansen are talking. There's a gun pointed a Corey, knowing that he is about to set foot in a trap Melville slyly foreshadows Corey's suicide mission of selling the jewelry to someone he's never sold to before. It's a great piece of blocking by Melville, and it's evident throughout his films.

I have a special affinity for Melville: when I was about 13 I was a huge fan of John Woo, especially is beautiful ballet of violence The Killer. When I read an interview with Woo stating that Melville’s Le Samourai was the inspiration for his film, specifically the main character played by Chow Yun-Fat, I immediately ran out to find a copy of Melville’s film. Well the film was a little too slow for this 13 year old, but something did indeed happen while I watched the film: I realized that film didn’t exist just to keep us busy with bullets flying and explosions on screen. My eyes were opened to the possibilities of what film could offer; so, even though I kind of thought Le Samourai was boring then, I stuck with it until the end, and found it to be one of the most rewarding film experiences of my life. It ushered me into a new kind of film-going experience, an experience that now included an array of films from all over the world, and I now saw that film could be thought about during the viewing of the film: Melville’s film invited me, offered me the opportunity to contemplate what the film meant in between scenes, not just when the credits rolled. That’s when I was hooked. So even though my assessment of Le Cercle Rouge may be a bit biased, containing just the slightest taint of nostalgia, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. It’s a great entertainment, a great contemplative film, and a great example of why the French New Wave was so hugely popular and influential.



There is a remake in the works with Chow Yun-Fat, Liam Neeson, and (gulp) Orlando Bloom as Corey. You can read about some of the details on imdb.


Monday, March 9, 2009

What Are Your Favorite Soderbergh Movies?


I'm trying my hardest to not think about the fact that I haven't blogged in awhile (even though I have two Argento films to talk about and a slew of 2008 films I have recently seen) or the fact that I haven't seen Watchmen, and by the time I do go see it my thoughts will (most likely) seem antiquated.

So, in lieu of writing my Argento essay (I'm working on it) I decided to watch Traffic tonight. It was either that or Captain Ron or Booty Call, all in HD, mind you. Did I make the right choice? You decide. But damn, I forgot how good Traffic is. A rare hyper-link film (before they became popular....or pre-Haggis as I like to think of it) that isn't about preaching or grandstanding....just observing. It has great performances, and one of the best endings to any movie ("but mostly we're just here to listen...", love that line) this decade. I assure you when I construct my obligatory "best of the decade" list, Traffic is going to be looking down on quite a few titles.

Soooo with that being said, and to spark some kind of comments discussion (since I don't have any original material to post....yet) what are your favorite Steven Soderbergh movies? Or, do you even think he's a good director? Out of Sight still tops the list for me, but after tonight's viewing of Traffic it's not as easy a decision as it once was.

A top 5 would look something like this:

1. Out of Sight
2. Traffic
3. The Limey
4. King of the Hill
5. Bubble

I also have a lot of admiration for his attempt at shortening (and making tolerable) Solaris. I think in the film-buff community that's blasphemy, but I still stand by it. As good as Tarkovsky's film is, it's excruciating to get through. I don't know why, but I've never connected with Russian cinema. Anyway...

Discuss in the comments (if you feel like it) and I'll be back sometime soon with thoughts on Watchmen and some films from 2008 that I'm just getting a chance to see (Synecdoche, New York; I've Loved You So Long; Role Models; Changeling; Swing Vote; Lakeview Terrace; The Class just to name a few...).

See ya then, and sorry for the lack of updates lately.