ockiemilkwood
Joined Nov 2017
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ockiemilkwood's rating
Despite the relentless hype of this expensive Netflix movie, Bernstein was no great shakes either as a conductor or, even more so, as a composer.
He conducted when classical music was still alive and vibrant, which it is not today. He conducted in a time of Reiner and the Chicago Symphony and Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic, by comparison to which he was OK, but no more. His Mahler ain't bad, if you take Mahler seriously, which I do not, compared to Bach, Beethoven, Schubert, etc. You can judge a composer by his keyboard works, by which criterion, Mahler was nothing. The keyboard lays musical invention bare, with no hiding place. It's all musical ideas, e.g., Well-Tempered Clavier, Beethoven and Schubert piano sonatas, etc.
Like all Netflix crap, this movie descends to the lowest common denominator, politically-correct sex. And it drowns in words. Reed Hastings, owner of Netflix, has done more to hurt visual narrative (movies & TV) than any other human being on earth. He has no concept of telling a story visually, like, say, John Ford (My Darling Clementine), Kubrick (2001), Sergei Parajanov (Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors), or Antonioni (Red Desert, L'Eclisse, L'Avventura). Visually this movie is one noisy, overdressed cliché after another.
There is no stillness at the center of all this.
Bernstein's compositions, imo, verge on pop, as do those of his supposed lover, Copeland. He was a flamboyant, good-looking, vain man who could not stay away from the media and the mirror.
That Scorsese and Spielberg are the executive producers marks this movie for what it is: big-money blitz, sound and fury signifying nothing. (As a footnote, Scorsese has shown over and over that he knows nothing about and has no feel for music, e.g., Vinyl, Echo in the Canyon, Once Were Brothers, his overuse of source music, his PBS documentary on blues, ad nauseam.)
He conducted when classical music was still alive and vibrant, which it is not today. He conducted in a time of Reiner and the Chicago Symphony and Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic, by comparison to which he was OK, but no more. His Mahler ain't bad, if you take Mahler seriously, which I do not, compared to Bach, Beethoven, Schubert, etc. You can judge a composer by his keyboard works, by which criterion, Mahler was nothing. The keyboard lays musical invention bare, with no hiding place. It's all musical ideas, e.g., Well-Tempered Clavier, Beethoven and Schubert piano sonatas, etc.
Like all Netflix crap, this movie descends to the lowest common denominator, politically-correct sex. And it drowns in words. Reed Hastings, owner of Netflix, has done more to hurt visual narrative (movies & TV) than any other human being on earth. He has no concept of telling a story visually, like, say, John Ford (My Darling Clementine), Kubrick (2001), Sergei Parajanov (Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors), or Antonioni (Red Desert, L'Eclisse, L'Avventura). Visually this movie is one noisy, overdressed cliché after another.
There is no stillness at the center of all this.
Bernstein's compositions, imo, verge on pop, as do those of his supposed lover, Copeland. He was a flamboyant, good-looking, vain man who could not stay away from the media and the mirror.
That Scorsese and Spielberg are the executive producers marks this movie for what it is: big-money blitz, sound and fury signifying nothing. (As a footnote, Scorsese has shown over and over that he knows nothing about and has no feel for music, e.g., Vinyl, Echo in the Canyon, Once Were Brothers, his overuse of source music, his PBS documentary on blues, ad nauseam.)
The prosecutor of the case talks forever, on and on, damning Rosa. But he's a fast-talking con man. He even admits at the onset that all he had was circumstantial evidence. My gut feeling about this guy is not good. He just isn't reasonable, convincing, or credible. He drowns the jury with a flood of rushed verbiage, a blur of so-called "facts," so that they can't consider the facts one by one, carefully. Con men have been doing this for centuries.
The prosecutor makes a big deal that Rosa and Albert talked by cell phone 50 times before the murder. He claims they were conspiring to commit the murder during those calls. First, this is false. The defense attorney points out that 19 of those calls were missed calls and that Albert and Rosa talked for a total of only 28 minutes during those 31 calls. That's only 0.9 minutes a call, less than one minute per call. Second, he has no proof of what they talked about. His claim that they were conspiring to commit murder is purely speculative and is, frankly, inadmissible. He has no transcript or recording of those calls. His claim is flimsy, to say the least.
Rosa, her 2 daughters, and her mom and dad spent a warm, close, loving day together the day before the murder. They even took many cell-phone pictures of themselves, hugging and loving each other. The prosecutor, without a shred of evidence, maliciously claims this was just a fraud intended to throw the cops off the cold-blooded Rosa, who was in fact planning to kill Pedro the next day. Again, the prosecutor has no evidence or proof, just damning suspicions and speculation.
Seeing things from Rosa's point of view casts a shadow of doubt on her guilt. She explains she obeyed and cooperated with Albert because she was afraid of him, especially afraid that he would harm her children, which, she says, he threatened to do. In America a person cannot be convicted of a crime unless there is no shadow of a doubt. There is certainly one here.
The movie. Burning Body, portrays Rosa as an ultra-promiscuous, very sexy, beautiful, young, ruthless, hungry black widow, which sensationalizes the film. Sex is everywhere. This is cheap sexploitation.
The media, which covered the crime, did exactly the same thing.
In America a jury of 12 men and woman must reach a unanimous verdict. In Spain they not only have just 9 jurors, but they accept a guilty verdict from just 7 or 8 of the jurors.
Because of a shadow of a doubt, I would not have convicted Rosa Peral.
The prosecutor makes a big deal that Rosa and Albert talked by cell phone 50 times before the murder. He claims they were conspiring to commit the murder during those calls. First, this is false. The defense attorney points out that 19 of those calls were missed calls and that Albert and Rosa talked for a total of only 28 minutes during those 31 calls. That's only 0.9 minutes a call, less than one minute per call. Second, he has no proof of what they talked about. His claim that they were conspiring to commit murder is purely speculative and is, frankly, inadmissible. He has no transcript or recording of those calls. His claim is flimsy, to say the least.
Rosa, her 2 daughters, and her mom and dad spent a warm, close, loving day together the day before the murder. They even took many cell-phone pictures of themselves, hugging and loving each other. The prosecutor, without a shred of evidence, maliciously claims this was just a fraud intended to throw the cops off the cold-blooded Rosa, who was in fact planning to kill Pedro the next day. Again, the prosecutor has no evidence or proof, just damning suspicions and speculation.
Seeing things from Rosa's point of view casts a shadow of doubt on her guilt. She explains she obeyed and cooperated with Albert because she was afraid of him, especially afraid that he would harm her children, which, she says, he threatened to do. In America a person cannot be convicted of a crime unless there is no shadow of a doubt. There is certainly one here.
The movie. Burning Body, portrays Rosa as an ultra-promiscuous, very sexy, beautiful, young, ruthless, hungry black widow, which sensationalizes the film. Sex is everywhere. This is cheap sexploitation.
The media, which covered the crime, did exactly the same thing.
In America a jury of 12 men and woman must reach a unanimous verdict. In Spain they not only have just 9 jurors, but they accept a guilty verdict from just 7 or 8 of the jurors.
Because of a shadow of a doubt, I would not have convicted Rosa Peral.
Another implausible, typically arrogant bit of nonsense from Penn.
Police can't even interview a child without parental consent. Using a little girl as bait is disgusting, irresponsible and dangerous. Would you allow the cops to use your kid?
Movie wanders aimlessly. Starts out as a cop's dogged pursuit of a gruesome child killer, then wanders, with the cop literally going fishing out in the country.
Coincidences pile up incredibly. Clues reveal themselves one after another, without the retired cop so much as lifting a finger.
Details are sloppy: Killer is supposed to drive a big, black SUV, according to the victim's drawing. But we first see him driving a medium-sized Ford station wagon and then, later, a Volvo station wagon. The cars aren't even the same. So much for continuity.
Movie lacks the tight focus and suspense of, say, Hitchcock. But comparing Penn to Hitch is, of course, ludicrous.
Police can't even interview a child without parental consent. Using a little girl as bait is disgusting, irresponsible and dangerous. Would you allow the cops to use your kid?
Movie wanders aimlessly. Starts out as a cop's dogged pursuit of a gruesome child killer, then wanders, with the cop literally going fishing out in the country.
Coincidences pile up incredibly. Clues reveal themselves one after another, without the retired cop so much as lifting a finger.
Details are sloppy: Killer is supposed to drive a big, black SUV, according to the victim's drawing. But we first see him driving a medium-sized Ford station wagon and then, later, a Volvo station wagon. The cars aren't even the same. So much for continuity.
Movie lacks the tight focus and suspense of, say, Hitchcock. But comparing Penn to Hitch is, of course, ludicrous.