Tag: Clint Eastwood

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Sully

The current state of the American Hero™ has become a bit of an obsession of mine since I started reviewing films on the regular. I’ve come to believe that the traits attributed to a film’s hero say a lot about the values of the film’s creators.

I’m loosely defining “hero” as “the guy you’re expected to root for.” Beyond the “antihero” trend that, let’s face it, has been going on since Humphrey Bogart, there’s been a subtle, but definite, change in the values portrayed by the heroes of big budget Hollywood product. Selflessness and duty are out, protecting your personal assets and genetic lineage at all costs is in. Take last year’s big budget disaster San Andreas, for example, where the Rock plays a rescue helicopter captain in the L.A. Fire Department. When the Big One hits, devastating California, this “hero” steals a chopper and bypasses literally thousands of potential rescues to go chasing after his ex-wife and daughter. If I was a firefighter, I would be offended by this characterization.

Then there’s Clint Eastwood’s 2014 war film American Sniper. In the old days, portraying an American soldier in a real life war zone as killing women and children would be enough to get you called in front of HUAC. But in American Sniper, when we meet our hero Chris Kyle, the very first thing he does is kill an Iraqi woman and child. That may or may not be something that Kyle actually did, but he did a whole lot of other stuff too, so why lead with it? Contrast that with the epic, four-hour biopic Che, where Steven Soderbergh completely omits Che Guevara’s time as commandant of the La Cabaña prison, where he was responsible for the execution of dozens of political prisoners. Soderbergh wanted to bury his subject’s brutality; Eastwood paints it as a virtue.

Which brings us to Sully, Eastwood’s latest film about the hero of the “Miracle on the Hudson”. On January 15, 2009, Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger (Tom Hanks) was at the controls of US Airways Flight 1549 climbing out of LaGuardia airport in New York City with 155 passengers and crew onboard when the Airbus A320 flew through a flock of Canadian geese. Birds were sucked into both engines, which exploded, leaving the plane without power. It just so happened that Sully was a 42-year veteran pilot who moonlighted as a safety trainer and consultant, and he knew this was not a situation anyone ever trained for, because it was not considered survivable. And we have all seen what happens when an airliner crashes into one of the most densely populated areas on the planet. But Sully didn’t panic. He made a snap decision to ditch the plane in the Hudson River and saved all 155 people on board. “It wasn’t a crash,” Sully calmly tells the NTSB investigators early in the film. “It was a controlled water landing.”

The real-life Sully is someone whom Ernest Hemingway would recognize as a hero: a man doing his job to the best of his ability. Hanks is the perfect actor to portray Sully. But let’s get real: Hanks has been the best thing about practically every movie he’s been in. I’ll gladly watch Hanks do just about anything, as evidenced by the fact that I’m a big fan of Joe Versus the Volcano. He’s flawless as the low-key family man whose sense of duty means he was the last guy out of the sinking plane.

But — you knew there was going to be a “but” — here’s the problem with Sully. The whole ordeal, from takeoff to the rescue of the last passengers by a passing ferry, took about 24 minutes. The film runs about 96 minutes. Eastwood and writer Todd Komarnicki play with structure to create a kind of Rashomon Lite, with the NTSB investigators playing the part of inquisitor, but it’s so bluntly obvious that Sully did the right thing that there’s no real conflict, even when the director gooses the final courtroom scene with some artificial drama. Nor does Eastwood manage to create a sense of claustrophobia when Sully is thrust into the media spotlight. Sully is a feel-good movie about a guy who deserves hero worship, but it is also, unfortunately, a bit of a bore.

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Film Features Film/TV

The Sweet Thereafter

In honor of the 25th anniversary of the Memphis Flyer (our first quarter quell, as it were), I have chosen my personal favorite film from each year since the Flyer began publication. Then, for each of those films, I unearthed and have excerpted some quotes from the review we ran at the time. — Greg Akers

1989: #1 Mystery Train, Jim Jarmusch (#2 Do the Right Thing, Spike Lee)

“While all the scenes in Mystery Train are identifiable by anyone living west of Goodlett, their geographical relationship gets altered to a point where we start to trust Jarmusch more than our own memories.” — Jim Newcomb, March 8, 1990

“Filmed primarily at the downtown corner of South Main and Calhoun, Jarmusch does not use the Peabody Hotel, the Mississippi River, Graceland, or most of the other locations that the Chamber of Commerce would thrust before any visiting filmmaker. His domain concerns exactly that territory which is not regularly tread by the masses, and his treatment of Memphis is likely to open a few eyes.”
— Robert Gordon, March 8, 1990

1990: #1 Goodfellas, Martin Scorsese (#2 Reversal of Fortune, Barbet Schroeder)

“This may not be De Niro’s best-ever performance, but he’s got that gangster thang down pat. His accent is flawless, his stature is perfect, and, boy, does he give Sansabelt slacks new meaning.”
— The Cinema Sisters, September 27, 1990

1991: #1 Terminator 2: Judgment Day, James Cameron (#2 The Silence of the Lambs, Jonathan Demme)

“Terminator 2 is an Alfa Romeo of a movie: pricey, sleek, fast, and loaded with horsepower. By comparison, the first Terminator was a Volkswagen. On the whole, I’d rather have a Volkswagen — they’re cheap and reliable. But, hey, Alfas can be fun too.” — Ed Weathers, July 11, 1993

1992: #1 Glengarry Glen Ross, James Foley (#2 The Last of the Mohicans, Michael Mann)

“Mamet’s brilliantly stylized look at the American Dream’s brutality as practiced by low-rent real estate salesmen who would put the screws to their mothers to keep their own tawdry jobs doesn’t relax its hard muscle for a moment. In the hands of this extraordinary cast, it is like a male chorus on amphetamines singing a desparate, feverish ode to capitalism and testosterone run amuck.”
— Hadley Hury, October 15, 1992

1993: #1 Dazed and Confused, Richard Linklater (#2 Jurassic Park, Steven Spielberg)

“Dazed and Confused is a brief trip down memory lane. The characters are not just protagonists and antagonists. They are clear representations of the folks we once knew, and their feelings are those we had years and years ago. Linklater doesn’t, however, urge us to get mushy. He is just asking us to remember.”
— Susan Ellis, November 4, 1993

1994: #1 Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino (#2 Ed Wood, Tim Burton)

“Even though Tarantino is known for his bratty insistence on being shocking by way of gratuitous violence and ethnic slurs, it’s the little things that mean so much in a Tarantino film — camera play, dialogue, performances, and music.”
— Susan Ellis, October 20, 1994

1995: #1 Heat, Michael Mann
(#2 Toy Story, John Lasseter)

“I’m sick of lowlifes and I’m sick of being told to find them fascinating by writers and directors who get a perverse testosterone rush in exalting these lives to a larger-than-life heroism with slow-motion, lovingly lingered-over mayhem and death, expertly photographed and disturbingly dehumanizing.”
— Hadley Hury, December 21, 1995

1996: #1 Lone Star, John Sayles
(#2 Fargo, Joel and Ethan Coen)

“Although Lone Star takes place in a dusty Texas border town, it comes into view like a welcome oasis on the landscape of dog-day action films … Chris Cooper and Sayles’ sensitive framing of the performance produce an arresting character who inhabits a world somewhere between Dostoevsky and Larry McMurtry.”
— Hadley Hury, August 8, 1996

1997: #1 L.A. Confidential, Curtis Hanson (#2 The Apostle, Robert Duvall)

L.A. Confidential

“L.A. Confidential takes us with it on a descent, and not one frame of this remarkable film tips its hand as to whether we’ll go to hell or, if we do, whether we’ll come back. We end up on the edge of our seat, yearning for two protagonists, both anti-heroes … to gun their way to a compromised moral victory, to make us believe again in at least the possibility of trust.”

— Hadley Hury, October 2, 1997

1998: #1 Saving Private Ryan, Steven Spielberg (#2 The Big Lebowski, Joel and Ethan Coen)

“Spielberg is finishing the job he began with Schindler’s List. He’s already shown us why World War II was fought; now he shows us how. … Spielberg’s message is that war is horrifying yet sometimes necessary. And that may be true. But I still prefer the message gleaned from Peter Weir’s 1981 masterpiece, Gallipoli: War is stupid.” — Debbie Gilbert, July 30, 1998

1999: #1 Magnolia, Paul Thomas Anderson (#2 The End of the Affair, Neil Jordan)

“Magnolia is a film in motion; there’s a cyclical nature where paths are set that will be taken. It’s about fate, not will, where the bad will hurt and good will be redeemed.”
— Susan Ellis, January 13, 2000

2000: #1 Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Ang Lee (#2 You Can Count On Me, Kenneth Lonergan)

“Thrilling as art and entertainment, as simple movie pleasure, and as Oscar-baiting ‘prestige’ cinema. Early hype has the film being compared to Star Wars. … An even more apt comparison might be Singin’ in the Rain, a genre celebration that Crouching Tiger at least approaches in its lightness, joy, and the sheer kinetic wonder of its fight/dance set pieces.”
— Chris Herrington, February 1, 2001

A.I. Artificial Intelligence

2001: #1 A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Steven Spielberg (#2 Amélie,
Jean-Pierre Jeunet)

“What happens when Eyes Wide Shut meets E.T.? What does the audience do? And who is the audience?”
— Chris Herrington, June 28, 2001

2002: #1 City of God, Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund
(#2 Adaptation., Spike Jonze)

“The mise-en-scène of the film is neorealist, but the cinematography, editing, and effects are hyper-stylized, as if The Bicycle Thief had been reimagined through the post-CGI lens of Fight Club or The Matrix.”

— Chris Herrington, April 3, 2003

Lost in Translation

2003: #1 Lost in Translation, Sofia
Coppola (#2 Mystic River, Clint Eastwood)

“Lost in Translation is a film short on plot but rich with incident; nothing much happens, yet every frame is crammed with life and nuance and emotion. … What Coppola seems to be going for here is an ode to human connection that is bigger than (or perhaps just apart from) sex and romance.”
— Chris Herrington, October 2, 2003

2004: #1 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Michel Gondry
(#2 Kill Bill, Quentin Tarantino)

“This is the best film I’ve seen this year and one of the best in recent memory. Funny, witty, charming, and wise, it runs the gamut from comedy to tragedy without falling into either farce or melodrama. Its insights into human loss and redemption are complicated and difficult, well thought out but with the illusion and feel of absolute spontaneity and authentic in its construction — and then deconstruction — of human feelings and memory.”
— Bo List, March 25, 2004

2005: #1 Brokeback Mountain, Ang Lee (#2 Hustle & Flow, Craig Brewer)

“The film is a triumph because it creates characters of humanity and anguish, in a setup that could easily become a target for homophobic ridicule. Jack and Ennis are a brave challenge to the stereotyped image of homosexuals in mainstream films, their relations to their families and to each other are truthful and beautifully captured.” — Ben Popper, January 12, 2006

2006: #1 Children of Men,
Alfonso Cuarón (#2 The Proposition, John Hillcoat)

“As aggressively bleak as Children of Men is, it’s ultimately a movie about hope. It’s a nativity story of sort, complete with a manger. And from city to forest to war zone to a lone boat in the sea, it’s a journey you won’t want to miss.”
— Chris Herrington, January 11, 2007

2007 #1 Zodiac, David Fincher
(#2 There Will Be Blood, Paul Thomas Anderson)

“[Zodiac is] termite art, too busy burrowing into its story and characters to bother with what you think.”
— Chris Herrington, March 8, 2007

2008: #1 Frozen River, Courtney Hunt (#2 The Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan)

“Frozen River is full of observations of those who are living less than paycheck to paycheck: digging through the couch for lunch money for the kids; buying exactly as much gas as you have change in your pocket; popcorn and Tang for dinner. The American Dream is sought after by the dispossessed, the repossessed, and the pissed off.”
— Greg Akers, August 28, 2008

2009: #1 Where the Wild Things Are, Spike Jonze (#2 Julie & Julia, Nora Ephron)

“I know how ridiculous it is to say something like, ‘Where the Wild Things Are is one of the best kids’ movies in the 70 years since The Wizard of Oz.’ So I won’t. But I’m thinking it.”
— Greg Akers, October 15, 2009

2010: #1 Inception, Christopher Nolan (#2 The Social Network,
David Fincher)

“Nolan has created a complex, challenging cinematic world but one that is thought through and whose rules are well-communicated. But the ingenuity of the film’s concept never supersedes an emotional underpinning that pays off mightily.”
— Chris Herrington, July 15, 2010

2011: #1 The Tree of Life, Terrence Malick (#2 Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Tomas Alfredson)

“The Tree of Life encompasses a level of artistic ambition increasingly rare in modern American movies — Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood might be the closest recent comparison, and I’m not sure it’s all that close. This is a massive achievement. An imperfect film, perhaps, but an utterly essential one.”
— Chris Herrington, June 23, 2011

2012: #1 Zero Dark Thirty, Kathryn Bigelow (#2 Lincoln, Steven Spielberg)

“Zero Dark Thirty is essentially an investigative procedural about an obsessive search for knowledge, not unlike such touchstones as Zodiac or All the President’s Men. And it has an impressive, immersive experiential heft, making much better use of its nearly three-hour running time than any competing award-season behemoth.”
— Chris Herrington, January 10, 2013 

2013: #1 12 Years a Slave, Steve
McQueen (#2 Gravity, Alfonso Cuarón)

“Slavery bent human beings into grotesque shapes, on both sides of the whip. But 12 Years a Slave is more concerned with the end of it. McQueen and screenwriter John Ridley are black. It’s one of those things that shouldn’t be notable but is. If you consider 12 Years a Slave with The Butler and Fruitvale Station, you can see a by-God trend of black filmmakers making mainstream movies about the black experience, something else that shouldn’t be worth mentioning but is.”
— Greg Akers, October 31, 2013

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Film Features Film/TV

Clint Eastwood’s latest Oscar bid disappoints.

Clint Eastwood ought to be a more memorable and significant filmmaker than he is. Throughout his prolific career — he’s made at least seven films per decade since the 1970s — he’s told plenty of interesting stories about crime, dishonor, and corruption, history, combat, and heroism. He’s a solid if unspectacular craftsman who seldom releases movies without merit. But with the exception of four Westerns (most recently 1992’s Unforgiven), two unusual biopics (1988’s White Hunter, Black Heart and 1989’s Bird), and 1993’s heartbreaking A Perfect World, Eastwood’s films are curiously detached and curmudgeonly, with few memorable emotional or stylistic high points. When this strained seriousness is overindulged, it results in negligible work like Changeling, Eastwood’s fictionalized retelling of an actual 1920s Los Angeles missing-child case.

An emaciated and frightened Angelina Jolie stars as Christine Collins, a telephone-company supervisor whose young son is abducted one day while she’s at work. Five months later, the LAPD discovers her son and returns him to her, but she immediately suspects that he’s not her child — for one thing, this new boy is three inches shorter. The LAPD, though, is unwilling either to accommodate Collins or renege on its own story, so she begins a tentative struggle with the cops that eventually wins her an extended stay in a Los Angeles psychopathic ward — where, it turns out, she’s not the only woman who’s fought the law unsuccessfully. While she attempts to free herself, an ominous new case with terrible implications further undermines the police department’s credibility.

With Changeling, Eastwood is toiling in the shadow of numerous Southern California crime pictures, so he manufactures a mannered, opaque neo-noir world of light and dark that smudges the allusions to superior works like Chinatown and L.A. Confidential. Unfortunately, his lighting scheme doesn’t enhance character or illuminate any larger social anxieties. His actors struggle to define themselves against this creeping blackness as best they can, but the sparse natural lighting and the bisecting shadow schemes swallow up everyone from concerned minister Gustav Briegleb (a restrained John Malkovich) to concerned detective Lester Ybarra (Michael Kelly).

Yet there’s a hint of what such cool-eyed professionalism can accomplish in two consecutive scenes occurring halfway through the film. In the first scene, Collins tries to avoid the Catch-22 of life in the psych ward: If she’s hysterical and outraged by her wrongful incarceration, she’s clearly mentally unstable, but if she’s calm and collected, she’s emotionally withdrawn. During her informal evaluation scene with the menacing head doctor, each reaction shot inches closer and closer until the scene climaxes with a huge close-up of Collins’ shaken, tear-stained face.

The second scene is another two-actor affair between Detective Ybarra and a young kid about to be deported. The scene between Ibarra and the kid is a ghoulish inversion of the scene between Collins and the doctor, as the kid tries to convince the detective that his gruesome testimony is true. How these two simple, sharp, chilling scenes wormed their way into a film as diffuse and unsatisfying as this one, though, is anyone’s guess.

Changeling

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Photo Finish

Everybody knows Joe Rosenthal’s photograph Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima. When the image of the Stars and Stripes being raised atop Mount Suribachi was published across America in February 1945, the photo caused a sensation. For many war-weary home-fronters, it inspired hope of victory for the U.S.

But did you know there were two flags that day, that the famous pic was of the second one, and that the soldiers raising it weren’t under fire? Sure, it’s the set-up for a mildly interesting episode of History’s Mysteries. But for authors James Bradley and Ron Powers — and now director Clint Eastwood — it’s the basis for Flags of Our Fathers, an account of how that picture affected the country and, better yet, a meditation on the men who fought on Iwo Jima, what the battle’s survivors left behind there, and how they were haunted by their experiences forever after.

Once the photograph became famous, FDR recalled the soldiers depicted in it from the Pacific Theater to send them on a War Bond tour. Their new tour of duty didn’t involve Okinawa or the Philippines but Griffith Stadium and the Drake hotel. Stateside, the three men were celebrities, and their fund-raising effort was a monumental success.

The three flag-raisers that survived Iwo Jima are spotlighted in the film. Ryan Phillippe is excellent as Navy Corpsman John Bradley, deftly portraying the medic soldier’s dogged determination. Adam Beach and Jesse Bradford co-star as Marines Ira Hayes and Rene Gagnon, respectively. Beach has a few scenes where he shines and Bradford maybe one, but most of the pair’s ineffectiveness owes to failings in the script. 

The staging of naval and air assaults in the film are staggering enough to put your heart in your throat. The beaches of Iwo Jima are composed of black volcanic sand (geologically correct Iceland was chosen for location filming), and the battle there looks like it’s taking place on the surface of the moon. The editing of the invasion is spectacular, assembled with such care that the viewing experience doesn’t degrade into confused chaos but is more like watching a tennis match with volleys, returns, and aces.

 And what a battle Eastwood’s Iwo Jima is: An armada of warships as if described by Homer; Japanese blockhouses and pillboxes; the flamethrower and the bayonet; naval barrages and self-inflicted grenade wounds. Crucially, a slide show of still photographs of the actual battle shown during the end credits reveals just how exact the film’s details are.

Flags of Our Fathers is cut from the same cloth as Steven Spielberg’s 1998 masterpiece Saving Private Ryan. They share a look (battles are bleached a gray, muted color); a purpose (unflinching understanding of “the Greatest Generation”); a consequence (making virtually irrelevant past films portraying the same battles, such as The Longest Day and Sands of Iwo Jima); even an actor (Barry Pepper). Spielberg produced Flags of Our Fathers. Comparisons are inevitable.

Technically, Eastwood is Spielberg’s equal. But Spielberg’s film benefits from a relentless, claustrophobic structure. The narrative structure of Flags of Our Fathers progresses in measured turns — with home-front touring punctuated by intense vignettes of warfare — and sometimes the two situations coil around and comment upon one another. Eastwood makes it work. But it doesn’t stick to your guts with the same tenacity. It doesn’t exact the same toll on the audience.