Divorced From Reality

I just came out of Mick Jackson‘s Denial (Bleecker Street, 9.30). A reasonably well-honed courtroom drama buttressed by crisp writing and performances that serve the film rather than vice versa, Denial does a decent job of making an absurd, real-life libel suit seem almost interesting.

It focuses on a real non-jury trial that examined the legitimacy of a claim made by Hitler biographer and apologist David Irving (Timothy Spall) that professor and Holocaust historian Deborah Lipstadt (Rachel Weisz) libelled his reputation by writing that he, Irving, was a Holocaust denier. 

This may have been a compelling case for certain parties within the British legal system 16 years ago, but a legal argument about whether or not Irving’s published opinions about the Holocaust being more or less an overblown myth and that Adolf Hitler was a misunderstood visionary whom history has maligned and more particularly whether Lipstadt erred in calling him a fantasist…well, the mind reels.

It’s just not a compelling story, this thing. In what realm are Holocaust deniers even listened to, much less taken half seriously outside of neo-Nazi circles? Exactly, and yet Denial tries to make audiences care about a legal dispute that has no realistic bearing on reality as millions know and accept it, based on indisputable fact. 

The Holocaust happened. Anne Frank and her family really died. Schindler’s List was not an exaggeration. In 2012 my sons and I visited Dachau, the infamous concentration camp outside Munich, and stood just outside the one-story brick building where prisoners were given “showers.” 

 Denial is a well-made, well-acted film but give me a break.

“Are You Okay?”

I don’t like it when someone asks “are you okay?” They’re showing concern and compassion, of course, but I don’t like the invasiveness of those words. What they mean, of course, is that they’re noticing or sensing that I’m not okay and that they’d like to lend a hand in some way. I don’t mind if people say “are you okay?” if I’ve fallen onto the pavement or been hit by a fastball or shot by a gang-banger, but I don’t like people to ask if I’m emotionally okay. Thank you but that’s my business, my concern. If I want to share I will but until that happens, please hang back. A friendly hug or pat on the back is cool, but don’t say those words. I never do. If I’m sensing someone is upset, I’ll show respect by giving them a back-pat and hanging close and talking to them as if nothing’s wrong. I’m not their doctor or counselor — I’m their friend. When I’m about to bid farewell I might say “you’re good?” but that’s as far as I’ll go.

Billy Lynn’s Day of Reckoning Approaches

Yesterday an anonymous guy from Definition magazine, a high-tech camera site, tweeted an observation about Ang Lee‘s Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, a high-frame-rate groundbreaker that will have its big hoo-hah premiere at the New York Film Festival on Friday, 10.14.

Definition: “Just watched 12 minutes of Ang Lee’s new 120 fps movie. It’s the new reality, like live theatre, you are there, like stepping into the scene.”

This prompted a tweeter named Henrik Cednert to ask, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing? For sure different, but good or bad…? Gives me a bad flashback from The Hobbit.” Definition dude replied that 120 frames per second “gets rid of judder and strobing. Film has no makeup, actors had to bring A game. Intense experience. Much better than Hobbit.”

Some guy named Tweets of Rage, reflecting the concerns of untold millions, rejected Definition’s enthusiasm out of hand. “Doesn’t it still feel hyper real?,” he asked. “Like watching a play uncomfortably close up?” Definition: “I think less so than Hobbit‘s 48fps. [This] might be a case of using 120 as an effect to start with. Ang will only shoot 120.”

Ben Schwartz then mocked Definition by re-tweeting something Schwartz alleges he said in 2015: “All 3D films gave to us was a headache and an increased determination that we didn’t want to see another one.” Definition: “Correct. Now they’ve got an answer. Do the math.”

I can only repeat an observation I heard during a demonstration of high-frame-rate cinematography at a tech conference in Los Angeles three or four years ago, which is that to most viewers the differences between 48, 60 and 120 fps photography are barely noticable. I myself was having trouble detecting a big difference between the three formats, and I know my shit.

I’m presuming that the conservatives will be less dismissive of Billy Lynn than they were of Jackson’s The Hobbit as it operates in real-world milieus, which on some level will, I suspect, seem less jarring or challenging.

I myself am a total whore for HFR photography. Bring it on, please. And make 30 fps (i.e., the frame rate of Todd AO back in the mid ’50s) the industry norm. The more fluid the movement, the better the film seems. I’ve been saying for years that HFR has the potential of making banal FX-driven films feel at least diverting. If Antoine Fuqua‘s dreadful The Magnificent Seven had been shot at 48 or 60 of 120 fps, I would have said “shitty film but very cool to watch.”

TIFF Is Downshifting, Allowing For Order and Moderation

Today (Tuesday, 9.13) is the last high-pressure day of the Toronto Film Festival. Or maybe it’s the beginning of Phase 2, which is when it all settles down and the crowds thin and it all starts to feel more manageable. One of the two. All I know is that it always means “olly, olly, in come free” when Deadline‘s Pete Hammond leaves Toronto. It means that the boom-boom promotional hoo-hah is winding to a close. Now I can start to catch up on all those films I’ve been reading about but haven’t yet seen — Denial, Collossus, Into The Inferno, Their Finest, Barry, Brimstone, The Duelist, et. al. You don’t have to speed-walk as much when this phase kicks in. You can breathe again. You have to keep filing, of course, but the pace feels saner.

I was going to blow off Mick Jackson‘s Denial as the 16-year-old libel suit it’s based upon (i.e., David Irving having sued author/historian Deborah E. Lipstadt for calling him a Holocaust denier in her 1994 book “Denying the Holocaust: The Growing Assault on Truth and Memory”) seems absurd. But the following passage in Marshall Fine‘s 9.13 review changed my mind:

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Jackie Is On The Path

With its acquisition of Pablo Larrain‘s Jackie and its intention to open it on 12.9.16, Fox Searchlight has revitalized its award-season game while filling the hole left by Nate Parker‘s all-but-discounted The Birth of a Nation, which FS had been presuming all year long would be its prime Oscar pony. The intimate, impressionistic Jackie may or may not acquire enough support to snag a Best Picture nomination but Natalie Portman will almost certainly snag a Best Actress nomination. (La La Land‘s Emma Stone, Loving‘s Ruth Negga and FencesViola Davis are seen as the other three hotties in this category.) Variety has reported that some distributors who caught Jackie the night before last were “worried that Larrain’s art-house touches may not connect with enough ticket buyers to offset the high asking price,” which will translate in award-season terms to problems with the Academy schlubby-dubbies. Jackie is nonetheless the only filmed Kennedy saga in history that qualifies as audaciously artful, and as such is an effort that will win respect and kudos left and right.