Is Matt Reeves‘ War For The Planet of the Apes as good as the critics (myself included) have been saying it is? Does it in fact traverse the realms of smart summer tentpole, masterful art-film composition and epic storytelling at a high emotional pitch? Is it as satisfying for the snoots as the slovenlies? Is it an emotional tour de force, a band-of-brothers film, a ferociously realistic war movie, and a kind of Great Escape rolled into one? Is Reeves a rightful successor of the kind of achievement that Peter Jackson and George Lucas managed in decades past? Is it the most satisfying trilogy of its kind since the original Star Wars threesome (A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi), or is it better?
The new Wrinkle In Time trailer begins with Chris Pine asking “what if we are here for a reason? What if we are part of something truly divine?” HE answer: Don’t be tedious. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Okay, you could call the relentless, never-ending cycle of creation, destruction and renewal a divine thing if you want, but the only reason any of us are here boils down to mere chance. In other words, we got lucky. Ava DuVernay and Jeffrey Wells were born on this blue planet for exactly and precisely the same reason that a certain blade of grass sprouted on a large fairway at the Bel Air Country Club last March. Why did this particular blade of grass happen to punch through the soil? Because God has a plan.
Seriously, this teaser feels like a mystical mumbo-jumbo hodgepodge. It gave me a stomach ache. In part because Oprah Winfrey plays Mrs. Which, Reese Witherspoon plays Mrs. Whatsit and Mindy Kaling plays Mrs. Who. (The latter is rumored to be the great granddaughter of Who, the baseball player from the Abbott & Costello “Who’s On First?” routine.)
I’ve put quotes around the above headline because it came from Variety critic Owen Gleiberman during a back-and-forth we had this morning about Quentin Tarantino‘s Manson Family movie. The subject was Gleiberman’s 7.15 essay about same — “Quentin Tarantino Does Manson? That’s News That Should Thrill Cinema Lovers.”
The 12th paragraph gets to the nub of it: “Tarantino wants to tell a story about how the age of free love morphed into something horrific — a transformation that still has disturbing implications today. Will he play it straight or Tarantino-ize it? My instinct (or maybe it’s just a hope) is that Tarantino can’t reduce the Manson story to another of his concoctions. I mean, he can, of course, but it wouldn’t feel right, and it wouldn’t be inspiring cinema.”
HE opinion: As intriguing as this project sounds, Tarantino is incapable of playing it even semi-straight. He’s not a docu-dramatist — he’s a creator of alternate Quentinworld fantasies. His last three films have mined the past — Inglourious Basterds, Django Unchained and The Hateful Eight — and each time he’s reimagined and re-dialogued history in order to transform his tales into his own brand of ’70s exploitation cinema. Why should QT play his cards any differently with the Manson family?
Gleiberman said this morning that location-wise he wants Tarantino to deliver an exact duplicate of everything we know about the Manson geography (Spahn ranch, Haight-Ashbury, etc.) but “make it feel new.”
“Alas, Tarantino is not a realist,” I replied. “Never has been, never will be. His Paris neighborhood set in Inglorious Basterds looked exactly like that — a phony sound stage realm. And remember that he reimagined an anti-Semitic, Jew-hunting Nazi Colonel as a witty talk-show showoff who loved to giggle at his own jokes. Remember also that in the same film Tarantino gave a French country farmer the name of ‘Bob.'”
There is still, we’re told, a contingent of old-school SAG conservatives who are again determined to ixnay a CG-augmented Andy Serkis performance in the realm of Best Actor nominations. His latest and greatest, I mean. The unqualified raves for Serkis’ Caesar in War For The Planet of the Apes make this alleged SAG recalcitrance and obstinacy seem all the more embarassing. SAG naysayers can dismiss or marginalize Serkis’s soul-stirring performance but critics and ticket buyers know the truth of it, as history soon will.
Wake up, Academy and guild members — great acting is great acting. Filmmaking in 2017 is ten times more digitized than it was ten years ago, and 50 times more than it was in ’97 and so on. The bouquet of roses and aroma of strong coffee is in the air. You can’t continue to say “what coffee smell?” year after year after year. This is reality, Greg.
“Andy Serkis’s performance as Caesar is one of the marvels of modern screen acting…the motion-captured, digitally sculpted apes [in War] are so natural, so expressive, so beautifully integrated into their environment, that you almost forget to be astonished by the nuances of thought and emotion that flicker across their faces.” — from War review by N.Y. Times critic A.O. Scott.
“If he weren’t acting with dots on his face to be replaced by a detailed computer simulation of an upright chimpanzee, it would be all but impossible to deny Serkis an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor.” — BFI critic Kim Newman.
In a just-released Awards Daily poll, over 100 newspaper, magazine, and online film critics and movie writers have named Jordan Peele‘s Get Out as their favorite film of 2017. What a lazy, submissive, grass-munching herd.
The lead of Jordan Ruimy’s article about the findings reads, “There was a time when film critics used to be a very unpredictable lot”…no longer! The runners-up were Michael Showalter’s The Big Sick, Edgar Wright’s Baby Driver and James Mangold’s Logan. A portion of those polled mentioned Cannes and Sundance films that will like emerge as the ’17 award season’s most critically acclaimed films. The most frequently mentioned were Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name, Sean Baker’s The Florida Project, the Safdie Brothers’ Good Time, Dee Rees’ Mudbound and Kogonada’s Columbus.
For the third time, Hollywood Elsewhere’s own Best of ’17 list: (1) Luca Guadagnino‘s Call Me By Your Name, (2) Michael Showalter’s The Big Sick, (3) Matt Reeves‘ War For The Planet of the Apes, (4) Andrey Zvyagintsev‘s Loveless, (5) Cristian Mungiu‘s Graduation, (6) Ruben Ostlund‘s The Square, (7) David Lowery’s A Ghost Story, (8) Olivier Assayas‘ Personal Shopper (even though I fundamentally regard this Paris-based ghost story as last year’s news as it premiered nearly 14 months ago at the ’16 Cannes Film Festival) and (9) Jordan Peele‘s Get Out.
The Manson Family murders movie that Quentin Tarantino is reportedly starting to assemble will be more or less fact-based, according to The Hollywood Reporter‘s Borys Kit. Tarantino has reportedly approached Brad Pitt, Jennifer Lawrence to presumably play significant roles, and Margot Robbie to play Manson murder victim Sharon Tate.
The untitled project will presumably shoot in ’18 for a release the following year. Harvey and Bob Weinstein are producing.
Tarantino-Pitt-Lawrence triptych stolen from a rival website.
I’m saying “more or less” because other reports have mentioned Samuel L. Jackson as a possible costar. (Kit’s story didn’t only mentioned Pitt and Lawrence.) I’m not aware of any black dudes whom Manson was involved with during the family’s heyday in ’68 and ’69 (Manson was reportedly fascinated with the idea of triggering a violent black revolution a la Helter Skelter), or any black detectives or prosecutors who got into the Tate-La Bianca murder cases as they developed.
And who would Pitt play exactly? My first thought was convicted Manson Family murderer Tex Watson, but Watson was 24 when the murders happened and Pitt will turn 54 next December so how would that work?
I agree that Jeremy Davies would make a perfect Charles Manson. All he has to do is use a sharper, raspier voice.
Is there anyone who doesn’t suspect that Karina Longworth’s “You Must Remember This” podcasts on the Manson saga weren’t at least partially responsible for kindling Tarantino’s interest?
For what it’s worth I agree 100% with Vanity Fair‘s Joanna Robinson that Tarantino should forget about making a feature and go instead for a six- or eight-episode HBO miniseries. Or at the very least that he should expand upon the feature after the initial release with an HBO miniseries version. The Manson murder saga is a long, gnarly, sprawling thing with all kinds of crazy tangents and sub-plots and side views. A decent movie version would have to be Zodiac-sized, at the very least, or at least three hours.
It’s worth recalling that producer Don Murphy, who became known as Tarantino’s nemesis when they got into a notorious fist fight at Ago in October 1997, attempted to launch a film version of Ed Sander‘s The Family 15 or 16 years ago, with Vincent Gallo approached to play Manson.
No hyperbole here. I’m going to play it cool and calm. Matt Reeves‘ War For The Planet of The Apes is a grounded, eye-filling super-epic, but I’m not going to get carried away. So I won’t be calling it a delivery device for some magical movie potion or, you know, a blessed and majestic achievement for the ages or the answer to any of your personal prayers. Well, maybe one: “Oh Lord, please save us from the scourge of summer movies by giving us a great film — primal, painterly, deeply rooted, character-driven, beautifully fused — that just happens to have a mid-July release date.”
Yes, it’s a franchise flick (further installments are probably inevitable) but Reeves, director of the second and third installment in the 21st Century apes trilogy, has enhanced the brand above and beyond. War is part popcorn and part arthouse, and graced with exquisite chops start to finish. It’s a kind of wintry Apocalypse Now in simian…wait, I said no hyperbole.
But it is that, dammit. A dystopian thing, an emotional tour de force, a band-of-brothers film, a ferociously realistic war movie, and — I love this — a kind of Great Escape meets Escape From Alcatraz in a snow-covered (you could almost say enchanted) forest. The key terms are “measured just so”, “exquisitely composed” and “the whole greater than the sum of the parts.”
Matt Reeves, director & cowriter of War For The Planet of the Apes, director of 2014’s Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.
War traverses the realms of smart summer tentpole, masterful art-film composition and epic storytelling at a high emotional pitch. If the snoots and the slovenlies are equally satisfied you know a film is up to something extra.
So yes, War For The Planet of the Apes is an answered prayer of sorts, except God had little to do with it. Okay, maybe in the usual sense (i.e., God as co-pilot or the vague architect of destiny), but it was Reeves who Pattoned this thing…who rolled up his sleeves, came to grips, demanded certain standards, co-wrote the War script with Mark Bomback, led his troops into the forested northwest and made a couple of thousand creative decisions over three and a half years.
Rupert Wyatt launched the apes trilogy in 2011, but Reeves has carried the weight since late ’12 and has now brought it home.
It would sound obsequious to call him the simian maestro, but we can at least say that Reeves is the Peter Jackson of this exquisitely hairy CG realm. The Academy waited for Jackson’s Lord of the Rings: Return of The King before handing him a Best Director Oscar, even with the layered and laborious Return (be honest) not being all that great. But War is a staggering piece of work — ask any big-league critic. Surely a similar consideration is due to Reeves for concluding an epic saga on such a grand and Spartacus-like note.
I have a rendezvous with Patti Cake$ (Fox Searchlight, 8.18). I missed it in Park City. I missed it in Cannes. I missed a 6.22 screening on the Fox lot. But I will see it soon, I trust. And I will surrender myself to the New Jersey-ness of it, as I was born and raised and suffered through years of adolescent angst in Westfield, New Jersey. Westfield was and is a comfy whitebread hamlet while Patti Cake$ is set in the grim streets of Bergen County — a far cry. But I lived in North Bergen in ’08 and ’09 and suffered once again due to the grotesque antics of the Hispanic Party Elephant, who lived one floor above. I don’t hate New Jersey but it has always brought me some kind of pain or lethargy or discomfort. I’ll never be at peace with it, but I shouldn’t blame Patti Cake$ for being a New Jersey thang. The word all along has been highly positive. (Here’s a good piece by a fellow New Jerseyan.) It’s said to be a spiritual descendant of Hustle & Flow and 8 Mile, both of which I loved. So I’m ready to do it.
I’ve been watching One, Two, Three since the ’60s, and I laugh at the final line in this clip every damn time. The gist of James Cagney‘s three-word retort: You threatened me so I fucked you up badly, but then I un-fucked you up so everything’s cool and what’s your problem?
The key thing is Cagney turning to his left and looking at Lilo Pulver instead of Horst Buccholz when he says it. This changes the pitch. Cagney’s Coca Cola exec knows he’s using lopsided moral logic but what the hell. Another example of how a joke has to be delivered just so with just the right touch of English or it won’t work. Wilder used to say this in interviews all the time.
In a 7.7 piece titled “How the Globalization of the Academy Shakes Up the Race,” The Hollywood Reporter‘s Scott Feinberg has again reported that foreign-resident membership in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has increased big-time over the past 13 months. With 1457 new members added since June 2016, or roughly a fifth of the entire membership of 7650, hundreds upon hundreds of these newbies are from China, South Korea, Russia, Israel, Poland, Italy, Japan, et. al. (Feinberg’s first post about AMPAS membership changes appeared two years ago.)
So throngs of new foreign voters will mean what in terms of Best Picture contenders? You tell me but here’s a theory. Because a more culturally varied membership indicates a less monolithic mindset, it could be that formulaic, emotionally pat feel-good flicks that often appeal to the blue-hairs — movies like Chicago, The King’s Speech, Crash, The Artist — might have a tougher time winning. Maybe. Or an increased influence from Chinese and South Korean members could mean, God help us, greater support for military spectacle, monster flicks, martial-arts crap or Hitchcock or Spielberg homage films. Okay, let’s not go there. All hail the policies of inclusion, and down with the dominance of the proverbial 62 year-old white male who used to represent the typical Academy voter.
From Brooks Barnes’ N.Y. Times profile of producer Amy Pascal, posted on 7.8: “Pascal’s producing projects are varied: superhero movies (Silver & Black), prestige-minded dramas (The Papers), bouncy comedies (Barbie). But almost every film on her docket involves female empowerment.
“’I’m not trying to correct or counterbalance,’ Pascal said, referring to male-dominated Hollywood. ‘I’m interested in women because I am a woman, and that’s what I understand.’
Producer Amy Pascal (Spider-Man: Homecoming, The Papers
“To illustrate her point, she turned to The Papers, which stars Meryl Streep as Katharine Graham, who hesitantly took over The Washington Post after her husband’s suicide in 1963. The screenplay finds Graham trying to catch up to The New York Times, which published the Pentagon Papers in 1971, enraging President Richard M. Nixon and leading to a landmark First Amendment court case, which prohibited the government from ordering that leaked information not be published.
“’It’s first and foremost a movie about Katharine Graham, a woman who went from being a little bit of a mouse to a lion,’ Ms. Pascal said. ‘And that, to me, was obviously really interesting. She had to struggle to decide to speak up.’
“She added: ‘I know that woman. I’ve been that woman.'”
HE interjection: The problem with The Papers, as I indicated last March after reading Liz Hannah‘s The Post (since retitled and rewritten by Josh Singer), is that Mrs. Graham spends too much time as a mouse (over 70 pages) and not enough as a lion.
There was some back-and-forth yesterday about Kier Simmons‘ timid approach to covering a G20 demonstration for NBC (“What Kind Of Pussy Reporter Wears A Crash Helmet?“). One of the comments mentioned that notorious scene at the beginning of Thunderball when Sean Connery wore a jetpack helmet. Connery had that Scottish machismo thing down just fine in Dr. No, From Russia With Love and Goldfinger. But it all collapsed when he put that pussy helmet on. From that point on there was something vaguely deballed about the guy. The advertising team obviously agreed — the Thunderball posters showed Connery flying the jet pack without the helmet.
No argument about having to wear a helmet to ride a motorcycle around town (although I’d be happier if the helmet law was optional) and I understand the need to wear yellow hard hats on a construction site, but otherwise helmets are for eunuchs. I’ve never worn one of those pinko-pansy bicycle helmets in my life, and I never will.
- All Hail Tom White, Taciturn Hero of “Killers of the Flower Moon”
Roughly two months ago a very early draft of Eric Roth‘s screenplay for Killers of the Flower Moon (dated 2.20.17,...
More » - Dead-End Insanity of “Nomadland”
Frances McDormand‘s Fern was strong but mule-stubborn and at the end of the day self-destructive, and this stunted psychology led...
More » - Mia Farrow’s Best Performances?
Can’t decide which performance is better, although I’ve always leaned toward Tina Vitale, her cynical New Jersey moll behind the...
More »
- Hedren’s 94th
Two days ago (1.19) a Facebook tribute congratulated Tippi Hedren for having reached her 94th year (blow out the candles!)...
More » - Criminal Protagonists
A friend suggested a list of the Ten Best American Crime Flicks of the ‘70s. By which he meant films...
More » - “‘Moby-Dick’ on Horseback”
I’ve never been able to give myself over to Sam Peckinpah’s Major Dundee, a 1965 Civil War–era western, and I’ve...
More »