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I was saddened to see the the news this morning reporting that Patrick Swayze is battling pancreatic cancer. I quite like the him as an actor and a person - bar one incident, you never saw him in the news for stupid or bad reasons. He was in a some good movies, and stared in one of my personal favourites Donnie Darko. He had a great performance in that film with a character that was genuinely difficult to portray. I’m glad to hear that his treatment seems to be going well, and hope that it continues. With fortune, he will be back in action soon. He deserves it.

Thomas.

Yesterday I saw P.S. I Love You at Liverpool cinemas. Very nice, very quaint I felt. Quaint in that I am not a regular goer to films like this. Chick-flicks, you see, haven’t popped up in my pursuit of the ‘great’ films. Regardless though, it was rather good. The best technique used in the film was the use of music. It was almost as if it were an ever-present character. What made it rather surprising (to me) is that it used modern music. I don’t recall a film using modern music to convey the emotions that the film draws on in the way that P.S. I Love You does.

The acting is rather good I must say. Hillary Swank has never been on my ‘best’ list (though I know that many others rate her highly), however her performance here is quite effective. Very emotional and very touching. She has more range that I gave her credit for. Gerard Butler, who I thought was rather good in The Phantom of the Opera, was very good in this film too. Harry Connick Jr. (yes, the singer) has a near-main part in the film too - not the best character. I suspect that perhaps his character was changed when he was cast because of his limited acting range. Cathy Bates delivers a fantastic performance yet again.

The scenery of Ireland is beautiful here. And it’s a nice contrast to middle-class New York, where most of the film is set. Of course, the apartment of the main characters provides life in the city to. It’s not a coincidence that Ireland, the home of Butler’s character, and his apartment are the two sources of life and emotion for Swank’s character. Of course, the ‘motives’ of the settings is important to the conditions in which Swank’s character enters them. Similarly, the appearances change with emotions. Then again, that’s nothing new, and to be expected, for this sort of film.

I did realise that critics had, on the majority, given this movie a bad write-up prior to going in. Having kept a few of those things in mind while the film was playing, I felt that they were being rather harsh. Though, it’s not their business to be nice. Yes, the film had flaws, but nothing that was glaringly bad or which drags the film down to Plan 9-depths. I suspect I have a tendency to be favourable to films, or at least more favourable than professional critics.

All-in-all a nice film. Not a classic, but something that might be worth seeing under certain circumstances. A date perhaps? Or a time out with a significant other.
Thomas.

Since finishing watching all seven seasons of The West Wing, all fifteen plus days of it, I’ve had time at nights to watch other things. Instead of moving on to the next series I intend to watch through (Gilmore Girls), I decided to watch a few movies that I haven’t seen in a while. I settled on watching the Star Wars Trilogy from start to finish again. Mind you, I haven’t watched Episode I and Episode II for a long time.

If I had never seen any of the six films before, and sat down to watch from start to finish for the first time, I would have given up by now. I have only watched Episode I and Episode II so far, and have decided that they are rather worse than I remembered. I couldn’t watch either without fast-forwarding through parts.

They both have some good parts. The pod-race, for a useless as it is for the plot, if still entertaining, Darth Maul fighting against Qui Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi is still very well coordinated and a feat of athleticism (for actors that is), and … well, that’s about it for The Phantom Menace. For Attack of the Clones, it has some better parts, but the acting is substantially worse. While the settings, the effects, and the fight scenes are very good, not much else is. And certainly the dialogue is located somewhere between bad (at best) and pathetic.

I’ll watch Episode III tonight, which I have watched a few times this year, and remember it to be much better than the first two prequels, but mediocre when compared to the original trilogy.

While I was watching the two movies, I wondered that if a true Star Wars fan would like the prequels as much as the original trilogy, not the opposite. I thought that perhaps a real Star Wars fan could acknowledge that the acting is bad, the dialogue is awful, and the plot feeble, but still enjoy them as they are all part of the same arc, and connected to the original trilogy.

After watching the two films however, I realised that a true Star Wars fan should be as enraged and sickened at the prequels as I am. I’m going to call the previous paragraph’s thought an idiot’s moment.

Thomas.

I quite enjoy those ice-breaker/team-building games that you regularly find yourself engaged in. One of my favourites is the deserted island game - name x amount of y objects you would have on the island. It’s silly when it’s a question that asks about survival items: matches, axes, tarps, etc. It gets real interesting when it’s movies, or books, or people, or things that only you can answer.

So, after trawling the Internet for a few of them, I’m going to progressively fill them out. Makes for conversation I guess, and blog posts. Here is the first one:

You’re stuck in a room with a television and a DVD player for the rest of your life. What three films would you have playing for all eternity?

My choices were as followed, and in no particular order:

• Donnie Darko - Perhaps I’d finally be able to figure out the answers to all of the questions I have about the film with all of the free time;

• Little Miss Sunshine - You have to include a comedy if for this scenario, and this was hilarious, as well as uplifting;

• The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring - Long, great, and interesting.

I didn’t think it would be smart to just pick my three favourite films because they are all pretty serious. Little Miss Sunshine brought the variety and laughs, Lord of the Rings the action and adventure, and Donnie Darko keeps you mind ticking.

Thomas.

Today I brought a film recently that no one I know has even heard of, much less seen. I had seen Bobby on one of the flights during my oh-so extravagant, lavish, and symbolic of of my immeasurably wealth European trip of which The 18 Cup was part of. I watched it twice because it was so good (and because I had watched Rocky Balboa once already - a film quite underrated in my opinion). I have waited for some time for it to come out on DVD. It was a November 2006 movie, I saw it early 2007. A dash under a year after the cinematic release and it finally comes out …

During one of those annoying tutorial ‘introduction’ games at university, one of the questions was to state your name, degree, and the last film we saw. In another attempt to show off my ridiculous and supreme wealth, I decided to tell everyone that the last film I saw was Bobby on a flight from Europe - the actual truth. This turned into a small discussion (as it was a history tutorial) in which I praised the film, and someone else who knew about it (though hadn’t seen it) said they planned on seeing it on DVD when it came out. I wonder if he managed to remember these many months later.

It’s a film about the last days of Bobby Kennedy’s campaigning (before he is assassinated) however not about Bobby per se. It’s about characters who were affected by the shooting -one lookers, well-wishersother people who were also shot, co-campaigners, etc. Something like 22 characters are involved here - and most of them reasonably big name stars (Elijah Wood, Sharon Stone, Laurence Fishburne, Heather Graham, Anthony Hopkins, Helen Hunt, Joshua Jackson, Ashton Kutcher,Lindsay Lohan, William H. Macy, Demi Moore, Martin Sheen).

It’s a very interesting attempt to tell many stories, but is a very ‘busy’ film. I don’t hold that against the film - it’s theme is to show how millions were swept under the Kennedy-mania that was going to herald social change and revolution across America. And it is a definite attempt to show how America was devastated by the assassination. The level of emotions in the last five to ten minutes is quite high - and so it should be. The whole film is a build up to the final moments. Characters hopes, aspirations, and despair are all built up, and clash when that fateful gun fires.

The acting is superb. Sheen, Macy, Hunt, Hopkins, Graham, and Fishburne are the strengths of the film. That’s not to take away from the rest, but there five are the best. It’s not common to be able to pick out five actors in a film and say they are better than double again others, but it needs to be done. Hopkins is Hopkins - and in this smaller role, he’s great. Macy I’ve always considered an under-recognised actor, and again shows his strength. Fishburne has a fantastic speech in the film - and it is really one of the many faces of change that Kennedy was supposed to bring about. Graham and Hunt have very different characters, but both pull them off. Sheen, too, is great. I hadn’t seen him in The West Wing at this point, so he was an unknown to me then really. But I was very impressed.

So, if I can, I recommend seeing Bobby if you can. If you’re not too cheap, go and rent it from a video store (if they have it - it didn’t have a very wide cinema release here). I told you, St. Ives Correspondent, that you would like it, so I’m happy to lend it to you over your coming holidays. Anyway, go and see it.

Thomas.

I’m sorry, but the start of this post is going to be choc-full of clichés. But trust me here: The movie that this post is about exists to extend a person’s mind beyond them, and to make the audience think. Well, not just think, but I’m sure that’s one intent.

Paris is colloquially known as the ‘City of Love’. Whether you choose to believe this or not doesn’t matter - it’s affectionately known as this. Many, many films set in Paris are of the romance genre and end happily ever after. Amelie is one of those films that springs to mind straight away. There are many others, and we all know them. Even with films not set in Paris, though characters venture there, it’s a place of deep emotions and sustained love.

But what is love? If Paris is the city of love, surely you expect more. More depth and breadth. More interpretation of the word itself. Let’s face it: There are many different types of ‘love’.

Paris, Je T’aime (Paris, I love you) is a film set in Paris. But it’s no regular film. With directors like Ethan Coen and Joel Coen, Wes Craven, Gérard Depardieu, and Gus Van Sant (to name a few) and stars like Steve Buscemi, Miranda Richardson, Juliette Binoche, Willem Dafoe, Nick Nolte, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Bob Hoskins, Elijah Wood, Rufus Sewell, Gena Rowlands, and Natalie Portman, you expect to see the H-word: Hollywood. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’d classify this film as an art-house contribution film. Art-house because of what and how it deals with its themes and questions. Contribution because the film is 18 5-minute films from 18 different directors/pairs of.

Each director, to best describe it, has five minutes to explore the theme of love and present Paris in their own unique way. It would be rather pointless to outline and summarise each segment, so instead I’ll just dawdle through the movie and pick out some of the best.

This film is a film concerned with emotions. It thrives on them and it places with yours. Sadness and joy, confusion and ecstasy, love and separation. Each contribution to the film has its own emotion, touch, and approach. From the metaphorical to the basic ‘what you see’, everything has received much thought and deliberation. And why shouldn’t it - they are trying to tell a two-hour story in five minutes. Because that’s the case: each segment could be a movie on its own. They all have the depth and degree of intrigue that doesn’t just make you think they could stand alone on the silver screen - they make you demand that they have a film each. There was one that had me bamboozled, and another having to really think about it - but not one that didn’t leave me wanting to know more. More about where the characters had come from, and more about where they were headed.

But an extension on the five minutes, ultimately, would kill this movie. Each contribution is a snap-shot, and moment in time, in Paris. They are woven together to make a three day story spread over two hours. Each part dealt with its story in an appropriate part of the day. This fed into the mood - couple meeting late at night were often cloaked in mystery, or dealt with issues of staleness and tiredness. The morning rendezvous had a crisp and new feel. It was a masterful way to get more story told, and more investment from the audience, by the directors.

The way colours are used are also very interesting. I’ll take the first contribution - director and written by Bruno Podalydè. It is set in Montmartre. Anyone who has seen Amelie knows that this film too is set in Montmartre. In earlier posts I’ve shown you images of, and talked about, the colours used in Amelie - how warm and vibrant they are. The Montmartre in this film is dead, dry and cold. I’ll get images of it at a later point in time. They are both dealing with love - but they both have different ideas about the word. The character from this segment is single. He laments the fact and wonders why all the women have been ‘taken’, and also why no women seem to fall for him. All this changes, of course, but for the moment where he is speaking to himself, wondering in sorrow about this problem of his, Montmartre is a cold and sad place in image.

The emotions, again, are thick and heavy in this film. The most evoking (it made me well-up) is the segment set in Place des Victoires, written and directed by Nobuhiro Suwa. Suwa is a Japanese director with not too many films under his belt, but you wouldn’t know it. Anyway, this segment deals with a love no one wants to touch - the love of a mother (Juliette Binoche) for the child who has died. This segment is absolutely gut-wrenching for the entire five minutes. There’s something else to it as well - I want to say relieving, but it’s not going to make sense when you haven’t seen it. In fact, it might sound mean. But it isn’t if you see the film. And the statement ‘finding comfort in a cowboy’ will make sense.
Another emotional one is the Loin du 16 esegment, written and directed by Walter Salles and Daniela Thomas. It is concerned with the love between a mother (Catalina Sandino Moreno) and her child too - though this is quite the opposite to the previous segment I spoke about. This mother’s child is but a few months old. And yet, she leaves him in the care of others only to commute across Paris on a long (it really did seem longer than five minutes) trip to a wealthy employer’s home, where we see her job is to take care of another baby. Here she sings to the employer’s restless child a Spanish lullaby with entertaining hand actions - the same song that she sings to her own baby at the start of the segment. However, the actual pain you feel for this woman is brought on by the difference in hand actions - when she is tending to her employer’s child, the hand gestures are muted, almost forced. With her own, they are alive, active, and finish with a touch to the child’s nose (something she doesn’t do with the child she is tending across town). You feel sorry for this woman - really sorry for her.

Of course, I expect people rolled their eyes when the saw the name “Natalie Portman” earlier. I reckon you’re thinking that I’m about to give her another raving and glowing review - say that she’s the stand-out of the entire film. I’m not. In fact, I can’t. There is no single actor that carries this film in terms of performance. I’m hesitant to say that there are even weak performances - because I can’t think of one. Each aspect of this movie was a chance for everyone involved to show their talent - without constraints and more of the reigns. Additionally, there are a lot more demands on an actor in a project like this. Tell a story in five minutes as best you can. Some actors have the help of filming techniques envisaged by the directors - and in every case they work. But some directors obviously felt that the cast could deliver the performances needed. And in every case they stepped up to the plate.

The bonus of having so many varied approaches to such a vast amount of themes is that, as a person, there is much relatability. I found myself empathising with some characters, encouraging others, wanting to speak to some, all because I could relate to them. And having never been in love myself, it should show the breadth that the term love is dealt with, and the varying ways in which it is shown to us.

The directors each bring their own flavour to their segment as well. Flavour in the sense of ‘theme’. We have personal monologues, single-shot segments, wide-shots telling the story, narrators. We even have a fantasy horror segment about vampires in love. That last one was quite interesting - a big mix amongst the rest of the contributions. Each has a distinct voice to it - a unique feel, taste, and temperature. None are the same in any regard. And that’s why this film is such a roller coaster for the viewer. Especially someone like me who has to pull every scene apart. The person in it just for the ride will probably have got more out of it than me to be truthful.

To bring all this to a close: Paris, Je T’aime is a fantastic film. I recommend it to anyone who can see it. Assuming that the list of readers has whittled down as of late, to those sojourners who want to see it, I have the DVD. It’s got a lot of subtitles parts (being a part-French film and all), but don’t let that distract you. Mitchell, I know that you enjoyed Amelie - put this on your list to see. You have holidays coming up. And it would make a great supplementary text for an English student (though I was thinking about it in terms of journeys) because of all the themes and technicals of the film. Of course, that invite to borrow the DVD extends beyond Mitchell alone sojourn group.

Thomas.

I’ll find nearly anything as an excuse to not do tutorial readings. For example, I’ve been known to get out the Nintendo 64 (quite an old gaming machine) or the Super Nintendo (an ancient gaming machine) and play them for a few hours just so that I don’t do my readings.

Well, last night was no different. Having to do readings for my history subject, I thought to myself “Hmmm, I wonder what I should do so that I’m not doing my readings”. I flicked through the channels to find something on TV, knowing full well that there is little on at 10:30pm that I regularly watch. I skipped past SBS, then on the loop back, saw that a movie was about to start. This was as good an excuse as any to not do readings: watch a movie I would normally not watch. It was, after all, in Korean (South, if they have their own dialect).

However, having watched it through, I am extremely, extremely, glad I blew off the readings. The film was called Oldboy, and it was fantastic. The whole thing blew me away - probably because I wasn’t expecting much. The plot, the acting, and the twists were amazing. If I wasn’t going to recommend you to go see it, I’d tell you exactly which plot twist blew me away. Suffice to say, it’s on par with “Luke, I am your father” it’s that shocking. Because it comes from no where and knocks you out cold.

So, yeah, go and see it. Rent it on DVD. I have no idea who the actors are, or the director or anything else, so I can’t really do as good a review (or shilling) of this movie as I’d like. Probably because it’s South Korean, and it’s the first exposure to South Korean culture I’ve knowingly ever had. I’ll probably buy the DVD from somewhere (EzyDVD has it for $25 (!) at the moment) and, if anyone is that interested, they can borrow it. Not that I expect the ‘uncultured’ of my associates to want to borrow it - especially those who like comic book movies and Dawson’s Creek.

Thomas.

Here’s a post I’ve fantasised about doing for a long, long time. I’ve pretty much mentally mapped out what I want to write, and have handwritten a lot of it. Granted, all of this occurred during exceedingly boring university tutorials and lectures, but it’s something that I’ve wanted to write for a long time.

A while ago I mentioned a new way of doing my own movie reviews in a post back in March. I’ve tweaked it and refined it so that it’s overly complex, so confusing and without rules that, well, only the mind of Thomas can comprehend it. I’m a very considerate blogger. Now, to write out these movie battles, I’ve also had to hearken back to my high school English education and draw on all that marvelous and wonderful stuff that, at the time, I didn’t particularly see a longterm use for (I guess that school was just preparing my to write movie reviews on my blog).

The first combat that I ever thought of was Amélie vs. Garden State, two films that I do hold dear. One has the ever-so exquisite Audrey Tautou while the other has the stunning Natalie Portman. In my opinion, these are the two actors (I’ve come around to call both actors and actresses actors now) that could go on to become big things in Hollywood and secure a rank of immortality in history. But, then when I think really about it, they might be facing an uphill fight (Audrey Tautou is French (thus not an American), and shys away from the modern notions of celebrity and fame. Natalie Portman distinguishes herself by refusing to do nude scenes, not engaging int the modern ‘celebrity’ notion, hasn’t (nor will I predict) follow in the traditional footsteps of modern actors, but manages to pick the odd dodgey film to act in). Anyway, these two films are among my all time favourites because I recognise them as the best films yet that either actor has stared in. Others would argue against this, but because this is my blog, it’s the truth.

I’ve sung the praise of Amélie before, and repeatedly. Here is the most notable example (and I always thought that I had published that in early ‘07, when it was, after all, December ‘06). I’ve always liked that post, and ‘Mr. Rabbit’ sang its praise (I think) once as well. But I’ve never felt that I’ve done it justice. And I’ve never touched on Garden State even once, which I’m ashamed at. But no more! With the all new Thomas Movie Review System 2007, I’m attempting to convey both my admiration of both films and why I believe them to be cinematic masterpieces and vastly underrated.

Let’s start with the review system. There’s a range of categories that I’ll judge both films by that will no doubt vary between the films. This variation occurs because the two films I compare have similarities with each other, and they’ve been paired for this reason. Next time, when I pair together The Star Wars Saga against The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, while there will be some categories that have to cross over, what makes Star Wars and Lord of the Rings great are different to what makes Amélie and Garden State great. What’s going to be focused on here is technical and story aspects, because that’s what resides with you when you’ve finished watching these films. Each category has only one winner (unless there are exceptional circumstances) and the winner gets one point (or two, again, pending circumstances). If a film does a disservice to itself or the category, then it may get a negative point, but that will be rare. Anyway, after all that boring explanation stuff, it’s time to get into it.

Let’s start with the main protagonist. They are, after all, of the most importance to any film. We are not, for the moment, considering the actors’ portrayal of each character, rather the characters themselves. Amélie Poulain is, and I can’t believe I’m about the type this, the main character of Amélie. Here we have a character that could be construed as cliché by someone who doesn’t appreciate the film or the simple-complex character. Because that’s what we have here - Amélie is such a simple character, but as the film progresses, and what we first perceived as simple turns out to be a façade that Amélie has built up to protect he extremely complex and teetering true self. Amélie, through some basic movie techniques, becomes a very familiar character, and ultimately, much more relatable to the audience. I find myself empathising with Amélie right up to the end of the film, and finally, when she manages to find what she has been looking for through the whole movie (an untangled and ’simpler’ life, and the ability to love), a welling of emotions and the feeling that she’s going to be alright.

Amélie’s complexity, as stated, is far from apparent in the beginning. And it’s Amélie simplicity, thus, that attracts us to her from the outset. It’s a change from the emotionally distraught (or perhaps emotionally unavailable, and thus unrelatable, as we see in quite a few Hollywood films) characters that flood our screen. This is, of course, in contrast to how Amélie is established by the film’s introduction - she is a shown to have quite a varied and peculiar childhood. After meeting adult Amélie, I initially wonder why she appears to be so normal. Because she can conduct herself in a way that appears to fly in the face of psychological animosity, we are drawn to her. Then, come ‘the fateful event’ that acts as catalyst to the unfolding of the film, and as the film steadily progresses to its conclusion, we, at a more rapid rate, realise that Amélie battles her past, her problems and her complexity in a way that almost seems familiar to the audience. And why shouldn’t it? The audience doesn’t need to be fooled into thinking that either Amélie’s problems or their own are of no consequence to either party, and thus another front of relatability is opened on the audience.

To sum up Amélie Poulain: it’s the character’s relatability, in my opinion, that makes this character so key to the film, because the film, as a whole, attempts to and succeeds in being relatable. It’s beauty and simplicity (on a separate level from that I was discussing with Amélie) would fall flat if the audience couldn’t relate to the journeys that Amélie embarks on and is metaphorically pushed down. It would take a mighty character to overthrow Amélie from gaining the first points in this movie battle indeed.

Andrew Largeman is one of the most masked characters I’ve ever seen in film. I tried to think of a metaphor for him, and the best I could come up with was a mask, inside of and onion, wearing a mask, wearing an apple skin. Once you think you’ve figured out Andrew, you then see him in a new setting, with new influences and he acts in a totally different way than what you would expect of him. But, most importantly, he isn’t complex for complexity’s sake, nor is he overly complex. He is just unpredictable and, strangely enough, what I perceive as real. Andrew has to contend with real problems, he has to deal with real people, and he finds himself in contexts, environments and settings. Andrew, and thus what revolves around him in the film, is real. It’s not so far to stretch the mind to see a movie like this happening for the most part. Amélie, on the other hand, requires a little more of a stretch. But is Andrew any more of a real character than Amélie because of the entirety of the film?

It is my belief that that isn’t an important question when comparing the two films. It’s whether Andrew is more or less relatable than Amélie that is important for a character comparison. Without a relatable character, the film suffers. And when watching Garden State I come to notice one things - I am more ‘invested’ in the other characters that revolve around Andrew rather than in Andrew himself. While Andrew is construed as this real and ’sterile’ character who has been dumbed down by medication and suppressed emotions, the people around him are not so, and you find yourself drawn to the people that come into contact with him. But, after the establishing shots of the film - Andrew in a cabin of hysteric people on a plane about to crash where he simply adjusts the air vent calmly; Andrew lying in his white bed with nothing other than a phone in the room creating a very bland, uncolored, uninteresting and (important to note) unrelatable setting that Andrew lives in - we find that this is precisely how Andrew is meant to be - unrelatable. And while this pushes and helps the film to no end, it, ultimately, costs Garden State the one point for main character comparison.

Score:
Amélie [1]
Garden State [0]

Now, for a comparison for the two people who bring the previously compared characters to life. Audrey Tautou is Amélie. I don’t think that sentence can convey the meaning that I want to send out. Audrey Tautou, in front of the camera, in the film Amélie, really is Amélie. If I were to ever meet Tautou, I would fully expect her to be Amélie. And I’d be surprised if she wasn’t. She not only brings this character to life on the screen, she brings her to life in you - you believe that Amélie can, and does, exist by her performance.

To further the argument to Audrey’s side, her style is sublime. The uniqueness and individuality and the quirks that she brings to the role gives that lively edge to Amélie. And then you just watch her on the screen, not in the role of Amélie, and she owns any shot she is in. She can captivate the audience simply by looking at it. She has the ability to tug on the emotions of the audience with just the facial expressions that she can produce. A smile from Audrey Tautou in this role makes you smile back. When Amélie finally finds herself and what she’s been after the whole movie (either consciously or subconsciously) you actually feel happy for her as long as you’re not afraid to become ‘involved’ with the film. And it’s not a hard thing to do with Audrey Tautou enticing you to.

I believe Zach Braff has pulled the short straw on this one. Braff is a fantastic actor, and without-a-doubt an actor I would much prefer to see in movies than in the television show Scrubs. I believe Braff has the ability to do so much more and become one of the leading figures in Hollywood, and Garden State was a good start. In fact, it was a fantastic start. Braff, in a contrast to all of his other roles, doesn’t rely on his natural comedic abilities, nor his ability to get emotion across. Instead, he manages to effectively stifle all of Andrew’s emotions and feelings and expressions to the living-comatose state that Andrew has been medicated into. It’s a difficult task, and a task well done by Braff.

But Zach Braff is no Audrey Tautou. Braff, while he has the ability to hide emotion, doesn’t have the ability that Tautou has to fleetingly betray what Amélie is feeling on the inside. This hearkens back to the beauty that is the Amélie character, but also acts as a testament to Tautou’s abilities as an actor. A simple, adjusted, expression at the right time, in the right context, is all that it takes. I find it hard to believe that Braff wrote Largeman as a blank piece of paper that had not real emotion inside, especially when we see his breakdown and later expression of love for the woman he meets on his return journey. And because this emotion exists inside of him, build up over the years, I also find it hard to believe that not even an ounce of it would have crept out once in the movie at a part that betrays Andrew’s real feelings.

In summary: While Braff is a fantastic actor, and in my opinion has his best role and performance in Garden State, Audrey Tautou manages to streak ahead with her portrayal of Amélie. Braff’s ability to stifle all emotion is what lets him down in the face of Tautou’s ability to become Amélie and to make you believe that she is the character - and that the character is a real human being.

Score:
Amélie [2]
Garden State [0]

Garden State finally comes to a point where it has a chance to catch up to its competition. Amélie and Audrey Tautou were formidable opponents indeed, but, when comparing the supporting characters and cast of the two films, as I previously stated, Garden State needed to, and did, excel in this department. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here we compare the two main characters who help Amélie and Andrew Largeman through their journeys. The two I have selected are Sam, as portrayed by Natalie Portman, and Nino Quincampoix, as portrayed by Mathieu Kassovitz from Garden State and Amélie respectively.

Sam is a quirky character, on par with Amélie. They are both similar in some respects (they both are on a journey to find a better self, and in the case of these two films, that is through ‘true’ love; they both understand themselves, but struggle for others to see them for who they are; the two characters are ‘colour’ in their films) but, as is the case for their roles in their films, they do differ. Sam provides relief and animation in contrast to Andrew Largeman’s sterile and subdued characteristics. Sam is partly there for some comedy against the seriousness that prevails in Andrew’s life. But same is also stability, reason and another ‘way’ through the journey. How so? Because Sam brings into Andrew’s life real stability, not the pseudo-crutch that the drugs he takes provide. She also is the single influence that reanimates Andrew which sets him on a more fulfilling and eventful journey. And, of course, Sam, like all great supporting characters, has the big serious speech that knocks Andrew and the crowd (when they actually think about it) to the floor when they should be. For example, Sam, after it being revealed to all that she lied about why she had a helmet with her, says that the real reason she had to carry it was that she had epilepsy, and needed it to stay employed (in case she had a fit and hurt herself). In response to this, Sam provides a nice little theory on self-perception:

The helmet I was wearing… Oh come on, that’s funny. That’s really funny, I mean I’m the only person who wears a helmet to work who isn’t putting out fires or racing for NASCAR. But what do you do, I can’t quit… their insurance is amazing, what do you do? You laugh. I’m not saying I don’t cry but in between I laugh and I realize how silly it is to take anything too seriously. Plus, I look forward to a good cry. It feels pretty good.

It’s in typical Braff style (to turn a serious issue into part-comedy), but it’s the essence of Sam the character that enables us to take a look at ourselves and laugh. Eventually this turns into a prelude to the closing of the film when Andrew and Sam have had their good, long stares at themselves, had their “laughs”, and then each have their respect “good cry”.

Sam is instrumental in Andrew’s discovery of the end of his journey and the beginning of his new one. Without a doubt if the two were not there to compliment one another then the movie would be dead in the water. Sam brings the life to this film with the other supporting characters. It cannot be stressed enough that while Sam does all of the above, it is in conjunction with all those other secondary characters, and they are all actors in Andrew’s journey.

As with the Andrew Largeman character, Nino Quincampoix got the raw end of this deal. The character is lively, individual and unique in much of the same fashion of Sam and Amélie, but he just isn’t as interesting as the two. He is intriguing, but just doesn’t go that extra step to grab hold of my interest and keep it maintained. Nino also suffers from a problem you rarely ever see. The minor characters that help Amélie, though are of less importance when compared to Nino, are as uniquely detailed, familiar and relatable as he (though less fleshed out), leading to him blending into the background at times, when he should be off the shoulder of Amélie. I fail to see how this is the reason for having Nino, as I would put the finger on him to be one of the two main influences on Amélie through her journey (the other being Raymond Dufayel, who might have warranted his own section of comparison with Mark from Garden State).

Further, Nino doesn’t act the catalyst that Sam does. The night of Princess Diana’s death is readily acknowledged by the narrator as the trigger. The argument could be made that Sam isn’t the trigger, rather Andrew’s mother’s death is, however, I would then argue to you that Andrew would have returned to L.A. in the same, drugged out and melancholic state that he left in had he never met Sam. Thus Andrew would have never changed, and he would have had no stage of self-discovery, self-awareness or chance to redesign the path of his journey. Nino, as I see it, doesn’t play this same, pivotal role. He certainly is instrumental, though not the linchpin that Sam is.

To sum it up: Amélie suffers its first defeat in comparison of secondary characters. While the entire array of characters that both films present, if compared as an entirety, would have seen a much more difficult and hard fought battle, Sam up against Nino is, in my opinion, a no-brainer.

Score:
Amélie [2]
Garden State [1]

We come to contrast, now, the two actors behind the previously compared characters. Natalie Portman, as Sam, provides, in this blogger’s opinion, one of the top two performances of her career. But can Mathieu Kassovitz come out from behind the eight-ball with his portrayal of Nino Quincampoix? It’s a mighty task, and anyone who has looked around this blog would have seen the answer already, but I’d like to at least justify why I believe Portman leaves Kassovitz in the cold.

My adoration for Natalie Portman is no secret, and may (likely to) have clouded my vision here. I make no lies of it. But, the important thing to remember is that this really was a standout performance for Portman in amongst the dreaded Star Wars prequels. Two films of hers came out at the same time, and she won a Golden Globe (Supporting Actress) for her performance in Closer and was nominated for the same Academy Award. In my opinion, this role was the better of the two. Anyway, that’s just my opinion in general about Natalie Portman’s career - what about her showing in Garden State? It’s perfect. It’s a massive difference from earlier work, and strangely, such is Portman’s acting ability, you can forget all those other roles as she draws you in on the film you’re watching there and then. Any scene that she is in, you’re concentrating on. Her performance is so spectacular that you’re mind only wanders in as much as you wonder what’s happening with the film.

Sam is such a complex character and could have easily been a detriment to the film. That would only happen if the character was portrayed by someone who, really, didn’t have the skills to pull it off. Portman has, quite possibly, the same acting style as Audrey Tautou bar one thing - where Tautou is demure and somewhat unassuming, though certainly in possession of the scene, Portman has a strong and dominating (when there is a need for it) presence on the screen. If Sam is to stand out or be the tallest tree, then Portman steps up to the plate. If Sam needs to step away from the spotlight, Natalie is able to do that just as well. I would throughly enjoy comparing similar, main roles that Portman and Tautou had, if they have had any that is. But regardless, we aren’t comparing those two, we are comparing Natalie to Mathieu.

Natalie also has the ability to send out strong emotions. Where Audrey perhaps has a limit to how she can express the strongest of emotions at the highest degree (fits of rage; crying; ecstasy etc.) Natalie seems to have no problem. I dare to say that Portman also can convey and evoke as much with a smile as Tautou, if not a degree more. I attribute this to the ‘foreign divide’ (which I will discuss later) but it’s something that must be considered. I have distinct memories from Garden State, and all of them are of Natalie convey the strongest of emotions - a bright smile, a believable laugh, crying in the phone booth. And this is a true symbol of a memorable, strong and relatable character - and she is merely portraying a secondary character.

Most importantly, it is Sam’s relatability through Portman that saves Garden State. We have established Andrew as, for the most part, sterile and shut-off. Sam is far from that. She is lovable and kind and interesting and unique. But, quite easily, with the wrong casting, Sam could have been an obnoxious lier who the audience comes to loathe. Portman doesn’t allow for that, and you have no option other than to love Sam.

And we come to Mathieu Kassovitz who has the impossible task of besting Portman’s glowing performance. Unfortunately, I cannot say that he did. In fact, I don’t think he came as close as one might think. Certainly he is a superb actor and knows what he is doing, but in comparison to Portman, we have another Braff - at the end of the short straw. Kassovitz manages to put the quirks into Nino that is required to make him of interest and similar to the strange display of characters that surround Audrey. A man who collects discarded photo booth photos would naturally have antisocial tenancies - Kassovitz manages to convey these quite effectively. I could almost believe that he lived all alone and worked in an adult entertainment store, was a recluse (in the barest of senses) to the world and had lost his direction, while enjoying getting lost.

But it’s this almost that leaves him short. There is something between Kassovitz’ efforts in this role and the believability that doesn’t connect as well as the three previously mentioned characters. I have one memory of him in my mind from the film (though, of course, more if I tried to think of them) and that is his reaction through the plate glass at seeing Amélie. But the smile and the expression that Kassovitz puts on isn’t exactly clear. It’s slightly ambiguous - and not in an effective way. While the character should be clearly excited and elated at finding, who he believes, is the woman he has been searching for (the woman who has been playing the intriguing games with him), it’s more the look of seeing an old friend. While I couldn’t fault the man for one wrong thing in a perfect film, it’s quite enough to suffer a defeat from Natalie Portman.

To sum up: Natalie Portman is the Audrey Tautou to Garden State. What we have in her is the distinct ability to bring the movie, her’s, and other’s characters to life. The colour, the emotion and the vibrant display of talent that comes from Portman in this role is undoubtedly one of her best, and really deserves recognition (more than it received). This, of course, isn’t at the expense of Mathieu Kassovitz, nor to his detriment. He is a wonderful actor and manages to do what is asked of him in the film, just not as clearly, or with as much power or force, as Portman does. It’s another point to Garden State here.

Score:
Amélie [2]
Garden State [2]

Now it’s onto the juicy stuff. The stuff that you can sink your teeth into. The stuff that they want you to focus on in school these days - the technical aspects of the films. And, to be honest, there are few better examples of technical superiority or experimental successes in movies these days (nor for the past ten years I’d venture a guess at) than Amélie or Garden State. But what makes them so good? Well, I’ve devised four topics to cover all of the aspects, each worth one point, that really are standouts in both of these films: camera work, ‘colour’ and ‘the rest’. I’ve omitted directorship, editing, production and special effects because most of the story is convey through either a) the characters; b) the acting or; c) the technical aspects that the two share. Let us examine the first of these categories: camera work.

I’m a big fan of how the camera is used in films. Sometimes it ads that extra punch, sometimes it leads to the detriment of a film. But, most of all, I can recognise and appreciate new and experimental ways that the camera can and is used. Of course, in saying that, I readily acknowledge that probably everything has been tried once before, and thus nothing is ‘new’. But there are less-common uses of the camera, and that is what I deem the ‘new’. Amélie has these new techniques, one could say, down pat; almost as if they had been used regularly. But what are they?

Let’s start with the how the camera is used in Amélie. It’s plays three roles - the first: it’s the normal camera which tracks and documents our characters. That’s no surprise. The second: every now and then the camera acts as a confessional for the characters. Amélie breaks down the fourth wall between film and audience (@00:11:16) when she tells us that she enjoys looking back in movie theatres, then a few seconds later, what she dislikes about films, and once again after playing her first ‘game’ with Nino (@01:13:57), then, in the closing stages of the film (@01:52:23). There are powerful implications for a film when it breaks down that wall - most importantly, the characters acknowledge that they are only movie characters, and that they really don’t exist. Pending the film of course.

The third is in conjunction with the narrator, where it acts as an ‘investigator’ which seeks to show to us what information we need to know in order to become familiar with the characters and the story. From the start of the film to 00:09:12, we have a summary of Amélie’s childhood, and sets the character up brilliantly to where we first meet her as an adult. Then, finally, the film’s plot gets underway at 00:13:35. Up unto then, we are familiarised with the characters that are going to play a part. But not in the traditional sense of viewing them in a certain context. Rather, we are presented with them, and the camera is there to give us the information that is important for future events. The narrator’s role is exceedingly important, though warrants a discussion on its own. But these tidbits of information don’t just serve plot purpose - they give depth and a realisation for the audience of these secondary characters. Now the camera follows the journey through childhood, then weaves its way through each of the characters, stopping, in both parts, on the important players and with enough time so that we obtain a sense of who we are dealing with. We get a feel for each of the supporting cast - from Georgette, the hypochondriac, using some form of inhaler, who is presented alone to us in a mid-shot, up against a backing of the studiously organised and defined cigarettes behind her, thus defining neat and high-strung manner; to Joseph, looking away from the camera at all times with a scowl, a tight, close-shot, without changing emotion, when we are told he enjoys only one thing: popping bubble wrap.

The technical use of the camera in Amélie is fantastic as well. The camera, I have noticed, is usually moving - either following characters or zooming. This, for me, is an obvious symbol for the notion that the movie is concerned with change for the characters - a movement from the old to the new - and the moving camera is representative of this journey. The camera is moving because the characters are moving - physically, emotionally, psychologically. If the camera does come to a stop, most of the time it’s a close-up on one of the characters. I would say that every close-up has a purpose in this film, and I’m not about to detail the hundreds of them. Generally though, they are to do with emotional states or in relation to their position in the journey - whether it’s a character going through change, coming to a realisation or being introduced, as we see with the main and secondary characters.

There are a few high and low angle shots that are worthy of note as well. Amélie, after letting another chance of ‘meeting’ Nino, is put into her metaphorical context: the camera high above her, standing alone, made to look small and insignificant. She’s realised that she is alone, really alone, and, with the events leading up to that point as a reference, because of her own actions. And, of course, the high to far camera movement of this shot is symbolic of the isolation and distance that Amélie has established herself in. It starts with a high shot over a canal, arcs down over Amélie, further down but still distant, then ends up (physically and metaphorically) a stone’s throw away from her. The camera doesn’t get close to her, and that’s what it’s like for the people around Amélie.

Generally, though, the camera work in Amélie excels because of the variety of ways we see Amélie through the camera. Perspective is of the utmost importance in this film. In many films, there’s no importance between how we see the characters and what they are feeling (I find there is a reliance on the mid-shot in this case). I previously spoke about how the camera is distanced from Amélie regularly, and gave you an example. Many times the same example pops up time and time and time again, each with their own meaning, though all along the lines of the distance between Amélie and other characters.

Funnily enough, in situations where Amélie is in control, and should have the camera looking up at her, we find that she is put, again, further away, I believe this is symbolic of Amélie, again, still being distanced, while having control. But strangely, it’s portraying her as having less power. While she is in control of the first ‘game’ that she plays with Nino, the view that Nino has of her when it is revealed (to him) he is being played by Amélie, this view, is deceptive. And the same happens when she is the store Nino works at. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen a steeper shot of a character in some time. She looks so small and insignificant, though she has all the control of the situation - she has the photo album. And here, in this shot, Raymond Dufayel, by the end of the film, holds more sway over Amélie than anyone would think (the painting I will discuss later), and while the argument could be made that it’s only an establishing shot, Raymond is never given the positioning to discredit this. It’s this playing around with the camera that makes Amélie so great in terms of the filming side. There’s a heap of questions that I still need answers to in this film, but I don’t exactly want them all solved at once. I enjoy thinking about a film, and I’m still thinking about Amélie. My best example is this shot (anyone who has seen the film will know the shot)

Garden State, if it suffers from anything in the camera department, is that it’s very still, when compared to Amélie. Where the camera is always moving in Amélie, in Garden State the camera’s movement, or lack of, is minimal. But it is important that it is this way. Where Amélie is a journey movie that doesn’t stop, Garden State has the special quality of being a slow movie that can afford to stop. It’s not as fast paced, and thus, it can afford to come to a stand still, and the audience can take everything in. This use of the camera is also a double-edge feature here - remember that Andrew Largeman is drugged into an emotionally ‘dead’ state, and would feel like everything is moving slow. Thus, the camera is inadvertently letting us into the mind of Andrew, who is experiencing the journey, rather than, as we see in Amélie, setting us on a journey of our own with the character’s occurring at the same time and parallel to ours. For the best example of that, watch the opening minute-45 seconds - it’s in slow motion, Andrew is the only person who isn’t emotional on a crashing plane, and we are given a point-of-view shot to show that the camera is a perspective into Andrew.

The camera also sets up the important settings of Andrew. While the settings are important in Amélie, it’s importance resides in the colours being used, which I will talk about later. For Garden State the settings, and thus ‘feel’ of the film, are set up through the way the camera is wielded. There isn’t so much of a reliance on the close-up, as with Amélie, more it’s an emphasis of putting things in perspective. The way that the wide-shot is used in Garden State is noticeably different to Amélie in that not only does it distance Andrew from everyone, but it also puts things into context - Andrew feels alone and disconnected (though hasn’t gone there by choice, as Amélie has), and the way he is established in shots shows this. We have, again, high and distant shots of Andrew. As an example, when we first see Andrew after the dream sequence, we start with a view from the corner of the room furthest away from Andrew, then come to a shot right above, where, in cut stages, we get closer.

This shot gives me a nice segway into what the environment says about our characters. If you look at Andrew’s bedroom, it’s missing, well, everything. There’s a phone and perhaps an electric shaver, besides the bed, and everything is white. It’s a real sterile feel. The same can be said with the doctor’s building that Andrew goes to, the waiting room (the colours of that room will become important later as well), and the airport bathroom. And ordered, where everything appears to be perfect, like Andrew’s parent’s bedroom, his medicine cabinet (and the secondary message behind that is pretty powerful as well), the L.A. freeway. Oh, and the airport, and another scene in the airport (when Andrew decides that he is returning home, and thus, returning back to where he began his journey) Colour just isn’t present in any of these environments - well, the colour that we find in others and in Amélie. That is until we meet Sam, but that’s for the next section.

For the technical side, the camera in Garden State is still and somewhat standard, though, as I explained before, it works to its advantage. When Andrew takes speed (I think it is) we get a nice little technique where Andrew is still lethargic and ’slow’ but everyone else, rather than going at normal speed as they do when he is on his normal medication, they are all in fast-motion. The same effect occurs at the end of the film, when Andrew is on the plane and headed home, and it’s a stark contrast to the slow-motion effect used on the plane in the opening scene. What this does is symbolises the change in perspective - Andrew hasn’t changed, but the way he views the world has. He’s stopped taking his ill-prescribed medication, and now he can see that the world is this fast-paced race, and, through all this, he’s still the same person.

And perspective, well, the use of that in Garden State is really for totally different purposes than we see in Amélie. Garden State uses this to make everyone out to be smaller - not the centre of the world, but rather, a real human being on the world, with a real life. When Andrew has finally sorted out his problems (mostly), and the plot needs to tie them up neatly, and show the audience that they’ve all come to some sort of resolution that we want them to have arrived at, but additionally, that Andrew is in charge of his own future and self now. We get a scene that does all that: it starts with a mid-shot of the three characters, then zooms-out, and out, and out. And all this was preluded by a high shot of the three characters, symbolic that where once they were mastered by their situation, after that zoom-out shot, they are the masters of the situation.

So what film can possibly win this point? Well, for the technical side, it is just so hard to split. Garden State is, for the most part, is an independent film - it’s written, directed and staring Zach Braff. It’s financed by Miramax, who aren’t one of the two giants in Hollywood, so there’s that freedom for the production team. But Amélie brings the foreign flavours of film to us. It takes ventures that you don’t see in Hollywood that much anymore. That certainly helps it’s grab at the point, but is dampened by the fact that Garden State can use the traditional camera works, that Amélie discards, and makes them seem unique and original. So, my decision, Amélie gets a point. But Garden State gets one and a half points for the fact that, yes, the film manages to make unique of what is standard. This is because they both deserve the credit of this category, but Garden State gets that little bit extra.

Score:
Amélie [3]
Garden State [3.5]

Where to now? Well, I’ve touched upon it before now - colours. Starting with Amélie, it’s best done by just showing you one picture - this. It’s the poster of the film. Look at the four base colours there - black, white, red and green. Those are what the film really comes down to. Red is the most popular colour in this film, quickly followed by the green. Red denotes passion, it denotes love and those emotions. And you find it all through the film. The reddest place in the film Amélie’s room. Every wall is red, everything in the room is red, even Amélie is red. Red red red. What does this say? If Amélie has surrounded herself in red, even dresses in it, then she has the love she is searching for in her already. And, because she’s not seeking it out in the form of people, she’s surrounded herself in the environment. The green we see in Amélie is sometimes pretty dirty and grungy. Mr. Collignon, the mean and cruel grocer, his apartment is this grungy green, and really looks like it could do with a clean. Where he works, and how he makes his assistant dress (who he runs down all day) is green as well. And going back to that arcing shot of Amélie on the canal, skipping stones, there’s only one non-green thing in the shot: Amélie.

Black and white is used in the traditional sense of shading - how can any film avoid shadows and light? But colours are pretty simple to understand in Amélie - and even simpler when you’re using two. They are self-explanatory, and really create the warm or cold feel of the film. When emotion should be evoked within the audience, the red is flooding the screen, it’s warmer and it’s related to what’s going on with the characters. The green that’s used makes it cold, emotionally dead and gives an insight into the characters that are associated with green.

Garden State uses colour to contrast where we’ve been and where we can go. For Andrew, it’s the opposite in terms of his journey. Where the audience sees no, or little colour, we are viewing where we first meet Andrew - in his dead, bland, drugged world. But when we meet Sam, and the doorway to a new place (both for Andrew’s emotional state and for the destination for his journey) is opened. But before that, the film is cold - and it still has points where it is, after we’ve met Sam. I guess that this is because of the conflicting state of mind that Andrew is in. The two go from a warm shared scene in a bathtub (referenced next) to a scene where they appear to be leaving one another - and, of course, it’s in a very hostile setting for emotions and colour.

Sam’s entrance into the film brings with it colour and, ultimately, a change in emotions for Andrew. We first see Sam in the same waiting room that I’ve described as sterile and ‘dead’. But she isn’t dressed to look like a chair (serious, I think he is dressed to fit in - brown pants, the same shade of green shirt). She’s different to what we’ve seen so far - ‘dead’ settings, ordered, organised and confined. Then we are taken to her house, which is just as colourful and just as ‘random’ (that picture gets random because you can see the year-old Christmas tree and the labyrinth of hamster tubing) as this strange girl we’ve just met - and strange in a good way. There’s something strange about everyone in this film, but few are likable-strange (that picture is only explained by the film). In the end, we see that Sam is the catalyst for change for Andrew; she brings the spark, that his medication has put out, back into him, and this is all symbolic in the colours.

Two of the warmest scenes just happen to occur when Sam is with Andrew. When the two share a moment by the fireplace, after swimming in the pool, isn’t only warm because of the fire, but because of the colours it throws out - the oranges and the yellows are quite inviting. The next is where Andrew finally opens up and lets all of his pent up emotions out, finally. He sits in a bathtub with Sam, and it has a similar colouring to the fireplace scene. When a scene in a bathroom, the characters wet from rain, could easily come off as cold and uninviting, the colouring manages to turn that right around.

But, between these two movies, Amélie comes out ahead. The vibrancy of the two colours, and only two, is just amazing. That’s not to say everything else has been blacked out, but these two, and the way they are worked in and around every other colour is quite elegant. for all it’s value, uses and suffers from normal Hollywood techniques, which is something that does surprise and hurts me. For all of the seperation between Garden State and Hollywood that exist, it falls short on this key element. And for Amélie, the colours are what do set this film above others, and really deserves the point. The colours, for both films, could do with an in-depth discussion in relation to each character, but this has already grown into a monster of a post, so I won’t bore.

Score:
Amélie [4]
Garden State [3.5]

What is the rest? Well, it’s the mixbag of what else make these films good. Overt subtlety is what I like to call some of the elements in Garden State and Amélie. They are overt in that they are readily available, but subtle because you have to know what they mean, and they might not be so obvious as you see them (or perhaps you have to wait until the end of the film). Either way, the two films are full of them. The image of Andrew in a mirror is a classic representation of a character of his type - split, undecided, lost. And contrast the life that’s portrayed by these two scenes - driving down an L.A. freeway and driving down a New Jersey freeway. There’s no hustle and bustle and stress and ‘tightness’.

It’s difficult to compare the ‘way of life’ that Amélie presents because it’s an idealised, dream-like Paris that’s being portrayed. So, instead, I’ll turn to the pseudo special effects that come into play. There is a scene where we need to know that Amélie has obtained a copy of a key to Mr. Collignon’s room key. The outline of it is highlighted in gold while it sits, hidden, in Amélie’s pocket. A similar effect is used when she sees Nino for the second time and has realised that she does have feeling for him. Her heart, shown to us, beats at a rapid rate. This effect is used to give us critical information that, otherwise, the all-important narrator would have told us. So what the heck is this shot doing? I have my suspicions (and it relates to the obvious religious undertones), but I don’t like to venture such far guesses concerning films. I like to deal with what I know.

The lighting in both films is somewhat important, less so in Garden State. It’s possible to read too much into Amélie and its use of lighting, I believe. It is used to show Amélie making realisations about herself and those around her, such as when we, along with her, first view Raymond Dufayel from her window. The only light shining onto Amélie at this point is coming from Raymond’s room. Answers, for Amélie’s and our questions, lie within.

Garden State’s use of lighting is merely for effect as I see it. The most interesting one is when we greet Andrew waking up from a party he attended through the night. Other than that, there isn’t a whole lot to point out. But I’m not disappointed at that - there is a tendency these days to try and deliver too much information through lighting that it has become a cliche. Filmmakers should realise that the original Star Wars perfected the art of lighting and need to leave it there. Similarly they did it with costumes, but as there is nothing really of note in that department in either film (other than the red clothes that Amélie wears and the green clothes that Mr. Collignon wears, on par with the aforementioned colouring) I won’t dwell on that point.

Returning to the overt subtle, I enjoyed a particular scene in Amélie that I brought up just a moment ago. Amélie looks out her window, down to Raymond painting. Note that Amélie is looking through a lens. The painting that Raymond is working on will become a metaphor for Amélie’s life later on in the film where both characters talk about Amélie, though neither really knowing (or at least acknowledging) that they are talking about her. “The girl with the glass in the middle” is the character in the painting that they discuss, which, funnily enough, Amélie becomes in this shot later - in between the artist and the canvas. And, note, that she’s holding a glass. Again, when the two discuss the painting/Amélie, she is holding a glass. Mulled wine I believe she drinks.

But, what I found interesting about what started me on that metaphor talk, was that Amélie was looking at herself, and through a lens. This works in two ways - one: she is looking at the world through a lens, not actually letting herself be part of what is out there. Two: she is already looking at her own person through a lens (as we are do note), just as the painting will become a lens into her own self.

Amélie has a few amusing moments, but they are in reference to characters, and generally important details to the plot in some strange way. Also, Amélie has many moments when you find yourself smiling at something or someone. But Garden State has actual comedy elements. There are some rather funny points in the film where it’s in there purely for a laugh. And there is just the right amount so that it doesn’t turn me (a person who doesn’t have a pure comedy film in my Top 50 I expect - I disagree that they can be quality movies, but that’s just my opinion) off it. For Garden State the comedy is subtle, but overt.

So who gets what, if any, points for this category? Garden State gets one for all the little things in it that make it good. But Amelie gets at least two (I was tempted to go so far as three) for including the painting and the metaphor. A student of English, I always loved a metaphor because not only did it take up so many lines to explain, but it was something that could be discussed and actually developed the film, as well as adding more depth and another layer to everything that was going on. I want to give Garden State more recognition that I have in this category, in fact, I think I’ll give it half a point because of the details that it includes for the sake of the plot and the sake of creativity. But, ultimately, Amélie walks out on top with two points. Which brings us to the final score …

Score:
Amélie [6]
Garden State [5]

 

So Amélie walks out on top, on what some may think is a closer margin that what others would get if comparing one of their all-time favourite films with their number eight favourite. Honestly, I’m not surprised. So fickle is my favouritism that my list changes order regularly. But the list of ten generally stays the same, and my top five haven’t changed for some time as well. So to have only a point between them was, for me, predictable. And don’t let this one point deride Garden State in any way what-so-ever. It is a terrific film about love, the emotional journey of one man who doesn’t like where he is, nor does he even know, and the unique and colourful characters that surround him (and ultimately us). But Amélie manages to tell it’s story with that little bit more … something. It’s that undefinable something in Amélie that will always separate it from other movies. Anyone who has seen it knows what I’m talking about. It’s a beautiful film, so simple, but, as we’ve seen (or I’ve told you) it’s somewhat complex when you take it apart. I encourage everyone to try and see both of these films and try and compare them to this level in less than 8774 words.

I hope that the wait didn’t put anyone off reading this. I can see why the length would have. Seriously, I applaud anyone who managed to go through it all. I would appreciate any sort of feedback on this - even a contrast in opinions on either/both films. If this type of post proves to be successful, I’ll go and do the next one I had planned. I’ve always wanted a theme to my blog; perhaps movies is that elusive theme. If the recommendation comes in that people want similar, but shorter, posts to this then I totally understand and would, in all reality, prefer to write shorter ones. But, as I hope you’ve seen, these two films are standout, classics (in my mind, where they are also filed under under-appreciated) and worthy of the in-depth analysis I’ve given it (though, admittedly, I’ve only scratched the surface on some of the elements). Thanks.

Thomas.

Everyone loses. You lose, I lose, that weird guy down the street growing marijuana in his roof loses. We all lose. I guess that makes us all losers by the fault. Which would generally be a bad thing.

Well, I’ve never seen a film make such a compelling case to make the viewers want to be losers than this one. The message I suspect they are trying to get across is that it doesn’t matter whether you win or lose, it’s the actual journey of getting to the end, how you come to your result, that only matters. So, if you’re honest to yourself, true to everyone around you, believe in yourself and not worry about what anyone else is thinking about you, then no matter if you are the winner or the loser, you really are the moral winner.

Little Miss Sunshine has a deceptive title. Everyone remembers the Little Miss books from their childhood (if you’re young enough). They are happy little children’s books with little to no substance between the pages other than colourful pictures and basic sentences. Got it? Ok, now dispel that notion because Little Miss Sunshine is extremely deep, packed with moral, ethical and personal questions, all thrown at you with the use of adult humour and a fantastic script. Not to mention delivered by the best assortment of character actors I’ve seen in the past year. I need not sing the praises of Steve Carelll; the comedic genius from The Daily Show a while ago, and of late, the US series of The Office (which a regular reader will know, I rate as one of the best).

Forgetting about the acting for now, because the movie is much more juicier than just that, what you have in this film is an M-rated positivity message that should be shown through schools. Of course, you’d have to hope that the kids can cope with the hilarious scenes, especially where the grandfather Edwin (the Academy Award winning role of Alan Arkin) tells his grandson to “Fuck a lot of women, not just one. A lot of women.”, and scene after scene showing failure after failure of each character. Because that’s how it goes down: each and every character fails in what they are trying to do except for one. And when the success of the one occurs, it brings the rest of the family together to rejoice and enjoy the moment in the spotlight.

So, while the whole family ends up being a loser in their endeavors, they all discover a whole new side to themselves - strength and character - and it’s this process that is so entertaining, hilarious and moving for the audience that makes this film so damn good.

In other words: go see Little Miss Sunshine.

Thomas.

I’ve added a new element to my page on the right hand side over there, and for good cause which I will get to soon. It’s a list of the last five movies I saw, so that I, and you, can keep track of what it is I’m doing. Of course, it’s the last five new movies I saw. I’m not about to put in that I watched Donnie Darko for the umpteenth time a couple of days ago.

Now, the whole reason that I put that there was so that I could inconspicuously lead into a post about the latest movie I saw, The Last Kiss. I finally saw this last night after waiting the excruciating months between the release here and the release in the United States. Why was it an excruciating wait? Because it was reported to be a fantastic movie! And if you are one who doesn’t take to other people’s reviews of films (in which case you’ve probably stopped reading by now) then having the Hollywood golden boy, Zach Braff, in the film would be selling point enough, right? Wrong. Rachel Bilson, formerly of The O.C. fame, makes her film debut, with force.

I’ve only seen this film the once, so giving any sort of in-depth review would in no way do it justice. Instead, I’ll just say that Zach Braff appears to be unable to anything wrong. Scrubs still goes strong (when most other shows are struggling to keep their viewer base). Garden State still stands the test of time. And now The Last Kiss. I originally said that Kiss was no State, but I think if I had second and subsequent viewings, it could be treated with the same esteem I give State.

Either way, The Last Kiss comes highly recommended from me. Go see it. The acting is superb, the whole plot, the development, and certainly the script is without a doubt up among the best of this year. But of all time? I’ll have to see it a few more times to make that call.

Thomas.

In an attempt to distance myself as far as I can from the stereotypical Australian ‘macho’ guy, I plan to reveal a movie that is one of my top five favourites of all time that generally wouldn’t appear on the ‘macho’ list. In fact, I would go so far as to say that this movie only appears on the list of well-viewed movie goers, on a more sophisticated favourites lineup and not all that commonly viewed because of this.

Amelie.

There, I said it. And it doesn’t seem to make me feel as red-faced as I would have thought. Perhaps because I am so enamored with this film that I don’t care if I am judged because I like it. Because I am. This movie I love. I saw only a sliver of it when they played it on S.B.S. earlier on this year or last (my memory fails me), and was so compelled to see the movie in its entirety that I purchased the D.V.D. off the cuff, not knowing anything about it other than it was in French and it had the gorgeous Audrey Tautou in it (which is a selling point of any of her films).

The film, putting on my reviewers pants for a moment, is so simple in its plot, themes and ideas that it caters to all viewers. Yes, this is primarily a romance drama, but the filming techniques, the plot and ways in which it is developed, extrapolated upon and revealed to the audience is so cunning, so smart, that it left I, a traditionalist Hollywood-technique man, who (prior to the discovery of the films Amelie and Donnie Darko) appreciated limited (and now, I see, primitive) lighting, framing, angles and movement techniques that are employed and repeated in traditional American films.

Amelie is not a traditional American film. For starters, as stated, it’s French. Enough said? No? Ok, the romance doesn’t rely on nudity. Now, look, this is a difficult topic, I know. On one hand, it’s nudity; everyone’s friend. On the other hand, it is my opinion that nudity generally detracts from a film’s worth unless its is done so in an artistic and somewhat ’sensuous’ way. A lot of Hollywood films have nudity that neither accentuates love plots, nor does it even play upon the idea of lust that is present in many Indy films that use it in this manor. Hollywood simply throws it in to get the viewers in to see *insert actress’s name here*’s tits. And really, let’s face it, if you’re in the demographic they are targeting at, in a majority of times, you know about this, and may even be guilty of indulging in a mediocre movie just to see said nudity. Do I judge? For the sake of this post, I’m going to say no.

Ok, getting away from talking about movies that include nudity to either eventuate their plot or for no reason at all, Amelie is a film that employs none of this. It has the basic principles of a romantic plot, but is so intricate in it’s playing out (which effectively establishes the same kind of intricate love that Amelie and Nino share with one another) that it’s like burning the wick of a firework - you know that the wick is going to burn, and at the end, there is going to be an explosion (of released emotions in this case), but how many times you’re going to have to re-light the wick, because something has put it out, is up in the air.

With this example in mind, as well as the exclusion of nudity, you may very well ask how are the massive amount of emotions, the quantity of love and the multiple journeys through the story all conveyed to the audience? The answer: a variety of very modern, up-to-date and effective story telling techniques (which, coming to the end of this post, may actually be seen as not so modern). Immediately the audience realises that this film is to be narrated, and, for the opening eight minutes or so, the only dialogue we hear is that of the narrator. After the eleventh minute though, a bridge is formed between the film and the omniscient narrator who gives us an abridged history of this connection. The bridge is, of course, Amelie. Strangely enough though, she begins to interact with the narrator, which breaks down the wall between the audience and the film’s characters, and the narrator and the film’s characters. Such is the first important role of the narrator: to connect the audience and the film in a relationship that isn’t as commonly found in Hollywood, as the idea of using a narrator has slowly fallen out of fashion for some reason.

The second role for the narrator is to foreshadow events in the film and give the audience prior knowledge and information that the characters, in particular Amelie, have no real grasp of. However, this information turns out to be somewhat deceptive and, as a result, the audience comes to realise, at the point where the knowledge becomes relevant and known within the film, that they don’t know as much as they thought they did, and begin to question what the narrator says from this point in, but, as a result of the audience questioning themselves, also rely upon him more. This creates another unique relationship in a film filled with them, and it is certainly not the last.

In fact, uniqueness is possibly the defining characteristic of Amelie. From production values, the the script, to the acting, to the themes and plots - the film is unique. If the film isn’t employing less-common means, it is using the ‘traditional’ means in new methods and scenarios. And all this, of course, is emphasised by the fact us English-speaking viewers relying on subtitles. How is this so? Well, firstly, the variety of means we have in the film, and the way they are employed are (no pun intended) foreign to us. They are new, and they are a breath of fresh air (all of which is expanded upon later). Secondly, here is how I have come to view the situation of the acting: because we cannot understand the actor’s dialogue, we aren’t focusing on what the actors are saying, less, we are always looking at what they are doing instead. So we pick up on what we normally would expect to see, but, because we don’t have to devote anything to listening to them, we can focus on the subtleties that the actors bring to their performance. And such are the subtleties of Audrey Tautou’s acting abilities that it spears the film into the audience’s mind and thoughts, and resides there long after the end.

I would say that Tautou carries this film on the back of her own abilities, however, there isn’t much to carry in the end. All of her supporting cast holds their own. I expect it’s unlikely that I will see any of them in subsequent films, however, I certainly wouldn’t be adverse to watching a film of theirs, as my ‘deviation’ away from the ’subtitled’ genre has been vanquished with this film. Does it mean I am now a compulsory viewer of the foreign films? Far from. I still prefer to watch movies that are in my native language (English, that is, not Australian), and I am hardly going to turn my back on true classics that Hollywood has produced and have found way onto my favourites list. But now I’m not so hesitant to watch a foreign film.

Which leads into my next point: because this is a foreign film, perhaps it is so resounding and so good because it takes a view of the movie-making process, the meaning of film and purpose of the celluloid that isn’t common nor seen in the ‘Hollywood-world’ of movie-making. By bringing these new views to the ‘Hollywood-world’, it’s not impossible that it acts as a breath of fresh air for the done-and-tried audiences. Additionally, it’s likely that directors and producers from France (in this case) ‘learn things’ differently: the methods of production and the means of conveyance. They may ’see’ things in a way that a disciple of Hollywood doesn’t: whether it’s simpler or more complex, that that have learned more or less (overall or in certain topics) - each of these things contribute to the difference.

It’s this difference that, I feel, is one of the main contributing factors making Amelie truly fantastic. And the difference works with the techniques, works with the uniqueness, works with the relationships, it works with the influences that a foreign films brings to the screen to make this a modern classic. And because I hold it in such high regard as a great piece of film-making, I also feel that it is extremely neglected among audiences and critics. It does have a borderline basic plot, but it’s simplicity is key in developing the simple topics that it deals with: unique relationships, basic love and and true, but modern, romance and courtship. But without the deep character development that is undertaken, very little of this would be achieved. While production values can be off-the-chart in terms of effectiveness, actually wanting to empathise, feel, relate, hate or despise a character in the ways the film wants you to falls squarely on the character development. Needless for me to say, the character development has enough depth for the audience to see these characters live their lives for the moment. If anything, the depth is so much that the minor characters, the ones who are there for single purposes rather than fulfilling a major role in the film, leave the audience with thoughts that they didn’t have adequate screen time and were under-appreciated in their use and purpose. What was the last Hollywood blockbuster that left you with those sorts of thoughts? What was the last Hollywood film that you felt had supporting characters developed just as much as the main characters? You might be able to name some, but it would be an underwhelming number.

How the character development is perfected, and we return to him, is through the narrator. In the opening sequences we are let into private, almost intimate, details that, while they seem trivial and unimportant, actually explain a lot of the actions that the characters undertake. It also opens a window into the psychological and emotional state that the characters are living in at the moment of time we are visiting them. Further, after explaining and showing, it forms the relationship between the audience and the characters in such a simple and basic way. But the relationship isn’t basic; it is somewhat complex, and certainly unique. The narrator’s role of ‘introducing’ the characters to us, and beginning the relationships, is only developed further and made more concrete through the (strangely) traditional means that you would typically find in pre-80s Hollywood films. Does this film, thus, not only go against modern Hollywood conventions, but evoke long-forgotten traditions from the ‘Golden Era’ of Hollywood? Possibly, and it might be worth looking into, however I feel that rather than intentionally doing this, Jean-Pierre Jeunet (the director) has chosen the most effective, the most simple, and the most basic techniques of story telling to get his image and idea across, and combined with his native learnings, creates, again, a unique and original film.

So, if you’re someone who is easily swayed by a wanna-be reviewer, then hopefully I’ve done enough of a job to make you go out and see this fine film. Then again, if you hate people who think they can review a film and pass it off as good, and want to try and see how wrong I truly am, here’s the answer: go and see the film. Either way, it’s a win-win situation: you get to see the film, and when you come back saying just how good Amelie really is, I win. And even if you don’t like the premise of the film, or romantic plots and themes, at least you will have been exposed to a masterfully created technical film, and it would be hard to not appreciate, or even acknowledge, this. Although I do find it difficult to believe that someone could possibly find this movie bad at all.

Thomas.

Returned from the world of seriousness after facing my mortal enemy - University Assignments (and it shall not be the final time we do battle), I thought it high time I blogged, or wrote, or thought about something that concerns us all:

Fluoridation.

“A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual. Certainly without any choice. That’s the way your hard-core Commie works.”

Anyone who calls themselves a movie connoisseur, a fan of the satiric film or someone who likes to say that they are intelligent would be able to tell you what movie that is from. It’s gone down in history as a classic and a must-see, though not for the traditional reasons. Normally, a classic is such because of the great acting (see: anything with Marlon Brandon). This film is a classic because it is a rip-tear into the Cold War society and the spectacle that is called politics.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.

This should be in the Top 10 of every movie list. It’s black and white, it’s part comedy, it’s got an actor called Slim Pickens. What else could you possibly want? A reflection on the absurd paranoia of Cold War society about the communists? Check. A parody of the technology gap (that was so often talked about by Americans and the West concerning the technology gap between the West and Russia) within the mineshaft gap? Check. A man riding (literally) a nuclear bomb? Check. Acknowledgment that the Americans brought out all the Nazi scientists after the war? Check. The list goes on.

This is a great film, not only because of the previous reason, but because it’s quite relevant today, and I hope that someone does, in the future (not too distant future ideally) does the same sort of thing with today’s fear society and terrorism. The writers wouldn’t need to work too hard at throwing in the comedy every now and then: just include a few transcripts of Bush’s speeches.

Thomas.