Titanic 3D ★★★½

Despite Some Flaws In A Post- 3D Conversion, The Film Still Works

Written by Matt Giles

Edited by Erin Accomando

It was a genuine joy to see this film on the big screen again. I was in fourth grade when it released in December of 1997 and have since seen it a handful of times on VHS and TV. But being older, and a little wiser allowed me to appreciate this film in ways I hadn’t before. The effects are breathtaking, the sets are quite amazing, and the skill and craft it took to make a film like this is mind blowing. There are a handful of movies that are meant to be seen in a theatre and Titanic is one of them. We forgive the film for it’s flaws and appreciate it for what it is. No matter how you slice it, this is a damn good time at the movies.

The big question on everyone’s mind is how does the 3D look? Well, it works in spots and doesn’t quite meet expectations in others. Again, this was a post 3D conversion; this was not a film shot or designed for 3D. With a conversion like this it is true that much of the brightness and vivid imagery is dimmed down quite a bit. But, as every critic I’ve read has been saying, if there was anyone to do a 3D conversion, James Cameron is the man to do it. I’m not a fan of 3D unless it helps to elevate the story; Recently the film Hugo pulls that idea off successfully. With Titanic, I could take it or leave it.

By now everyone should know the plot of this film but just in case, I’ll summarize: the “unsinkable” Titanic leaves from England to New York on its maiden voyage, hits an iceberg and sinks. Jack (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a third-class passenger who wins his ticket on Titanic from a lucky hand at poker. Rose (Kate Winslet) is a first-class passenger, doomed to wed a wealthy man, Cal (Billy Zane), whom she does not love. It’s Romeo and Juliet on an ill-fated ship and we know from the beginning (Belated Spoiler Alert) that there’s no way both of them will get to live happily ever after. Yet every time I see this movie I’m so involved in their story that I can’t help but hope that maybe this time the ship won’t sink.

So why does a film as poorly written as Titanic work so well? Let’s consider that question for a moment: they say one cannot make a good film from a bad script and yet, in almost every way, Titanic manages to disprove that theory, starting with DiCaprio and Winslet. These two were much younger in 1997 and to see them in these roles again and, in essence, go back in time, reminds us truly of how great actors can save a film from, pardon the pun, sinking into the abyss. These two are so good in their respective roles as Jack and Rose that even their terrible dialogue comes across as convincing. From that first moment that we see Jack notice Rose on the first-class deck we’re drawn in. It’s as if he’s been struck by lightening and will never be the same again. James Cameron has openly said that he wanted to find a way to tell the story of Titanic in a way that would make people understand and accept the loss and the tragedy of that fateful night in the Atlantic. By telling a love story where ultimately the love is lost, he achieves his goal. Manipulative? Yes. Does it work? Absolutely.

There are things to nitpick aside from poor dialogue. I’ve always felt Rose should have been written a little bit stronger. She is a smart and courageous woman. She deserves a little bit more credit than what she’s given throughout the film. In addition, Billy Zane as Cal is just too over the top. It’s a good thing to have a villain in a film but at least flesh him or her out a little bit more. But once again, we forgive these problems because Titanic stands on its own as an achievement in filmmaking

             

In recent years I tried to convince myself that I didn’t love this film, that it was too cheesy and that I couldn’t believe I ever liked it. Yet every time it’s been on TV I’ve stopped what I’m doing to watch it, to experience it again. At the end of the film, the much older Rose (Gloria Stuart) is telling us the story of Titanic and says, “Now you know there was a man named Jack Dawson and that he saved me. In every way a person can be saved… I don’t even have a picture of him. He exists now only in my memory”. I kid you not, every single time I hear that line I lose it. I feel the pressure behind my eyes and the tears just fall down my face. Am I a cornball? Yes. Overly sentimental? Yes. Can anyone else tell me they are not in tears by the end of this film? Not anyone I’ve ever encountered.

See this film while you can on the big screen, especially if you haven’t watched it since its release in 1997. Whatever your opinion was about it then, open your heart and experience it one more time. It’s well worth it. 

The Kid With A Bike ★★★

Skillfully Avoids Sliding Into Melodrama In A Dark Tale Of A Troubled Young Boy

Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando

I went into The Kid With A Bike not knowing what to expect. When I walked out of the theatre I found myself so moved by the performance of Thomas Deret as Cyril, the kid in question. Deret is in nearly every scene of the film, which for a boy his age is not easy. The basic premise of the film is as follows: Cyril is abandoned by his father (Jérémie Renier) and left at a foster home. He lives in denial of the fact that his father actually left him without a care in the world and makes continued attempts to locate him. After he finds out that his father has left his apartment and sold Cyril’s bike to make money he meets a hairdresser, Samantha (played by Cécile de France), who after a plea from Cyril, agrees to take care of him on weekends. The first act of the film involves Cyril and Samantha first getting Cyril’s bike back, and then finding out where his father is. Once the father located, he finally tells Cyril that he wants nothing to do with him.

           

At various times throughout this film I found it difficult to watch. Not because it was poorly executed or because I was seeing something that I had to avert my eyes from, but simply because Deret is so good in the role of Cyril that seeing his denial about his father and the inner turmoil he experiences at such a young age is just devastating. Cyril quite simply just wants to be loved. Samantha provides this love and care, but it seems that Cyril is more desperate for the approval of a father figure. As a result, Cyril later forms a friendship with a local gang leader who persuades Cyril to rob and assault a newsstand owner and, unexpectedly, the newsstand owner’s son. You see the desperation for approval from Cyril in a variety of ways, not the least of which is when Cyril tells the gang leader he’ll do the job for free because he just wants to please him.

Most films that I have seen like this one are quite melodramatic (Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead springs to mind, a film that many liked but I did not). The Kid With A Bike manages to steer clear of that entirely. This film is directed by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne and is the first film of theirs that I have seen. From what I’ve read their films tend to focus on similar subject matter, which for a film with such an emotional punch as this one, takes an incredible amount of skill and precision to execute successfully. For my money, the Dardeenes pull it off in spades. When watching the film you cannot help but feel sorry for Cyril and angry with him at the same time for acting the way he does. But again, you understand him. You see his motivations and you’re compelled to follow him and simply hope that he’ll come out of this whole ordeal all right. Samantha is the character symbolic of hope in the film; She sees everything that’s happening to Cyril and does everything she possibly can to save him.

My only complaint about the film quite honestly is the score. The same theme shows up at certain moments in the film and it just doesn’t quite fit for me. I feel as though it’s too sentimental; too on the nose. It’s telling me exactly how I should feel at this particular moment (and many others) in the film and I don’t need it. It almost feels as if the Dardeenes were not sure that certain scenes would land the way they intended with audiences, so they put this music in that just hits you over the head. If this is the case, they should have felt more comfortable with the subject matter and let it speak for itself. A minor complaint, yes, in an otherwise difficult but nevertheless uplifting story about hope, loss and redemption.

The Kid With A Bike is currently playing at The Main Art Theatre in Royal Oak. 

Crazy Horse ★★★★

A Brilliant Behind The Scenes Look At One Of France’s Most Erotic Cabarets

Written by Matt Giles

Edited by Erin Accomando

Frederick Wiseman is a documentary filmmaker whose career has spanned more than forty years. Knowing that makes me feel even worse about the fact that this is the first film of his that I have ever seen. Crazy Horse is the name of the Parisian cabaret, known for its eroticism and skillfully crafted performances. In 2009, Wiseman brought his camera in to film the making of the new show the cabaret was putting on entitled Désirs. What we get is the fly-on-the-wall style of documentary filmmaking that Wiseman is known for, wherein we witness the stress, hard work and sacrifice that these people put into creating a show.

The film begins with a variety of musical numbers to introduce us to the world we’ll be spending the next two and a half hours living in. It’s dark; it’s atmospheric; it’s artistic and yes, quite erotic. Later, we see the director Ali Mahdavi talking about how they need to close Crazy Horse if they really want to be able to pull off Désirs. We see everyone from the dancers themselves, to the choreographers, makeup artists, costume designers and stage managers. What’s fascinating is that through all of the stress and apparent turmoil that exists behind putting on a show like this, no one ever shouts at one another. The overall feeling that I got when watching this film is that each show is such success largely because of the respect that everyone seemingly has for one another. They do fight, again, never yelling, they disagree on each other’s vision of the show but somehow they all work well together.

As mentioned, Wiseman’s unique style of documentary filmmaking is very removed, as opposed to most documentaries where the camera essentially forces its way in. Here, it’s literally as we’re the invisible man, unnoticed day in and day out. There are never any interviews conducted except for the ones conducted by other people promoting Désirs, which Wiseman gets on film because he happened to be there at that time. It’s a fascinating take on filmmaking because so much is left up to us as an audience to interpret. We observe everyone, but we never get to hear, for example, how any of the dancers feel personally about what they do. We hear whispers from the director that certain numbers like Venus are being cut because the women are not comfortable touching one another, but again, these are only hints.

The one scene that really lets us see the comical side of these women is when they’re sitting in the back watching bloopers of Russian ballet dancers, laughing hysterically at each of the mistakes they make. This is paralleled with another scene where the director talks about how the women are still making at least one mistake during each musical number, which is unacceptable. When watching this film one cannot help but appreciate the kind of work that goes into a show like this, or for that matter what it takes to do any show that’s worth talking about.

I should also mention that this film is absolutely gorgeous to look at. This cinematography is spectacular, largely due to the artistic direction and lighting of Désirs itself. It’s amazing that a show like this even exists and it’s refreshing to see how another culture views the subject of eroticism. This is a film and a world unlike any other you’ve ever seen. It’s well worth your time and money to seek this film out and invite yourself into the world of The Crazy Horse Cabaret.  

This Is Not A Film ★★★½

Heartbreaking And Simultaneously Uplifting

Written by Matt Giles

Edited by Erin Accomando

I’m the first to admit (and shamefully so) that my experience with Iranian cinema is next to none. Earlier this year I saw the brilliant, yet puzzling Certified Copy by Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami. And now This Is Not A Film, about Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi. Panahi is one of the most prolific filmmakers to come out of Iran and has made an impact around the world as one of the most important filmmakers of our time. In 2009 he was arrested for opposing Iran’s regime and sentenced to six years in prison along with a twenty-year ban from filmmaking. In 2010, while still under house arrest, This Is Not A Film was made showing one day in the life of Panahi’s current predicament. This film was so secretive, so risky that it had to be smuggled out of the country on a flash drive hidden inside of a cake for a last minute submission to last year’s Cannes Film Festival.

Basically what anyone like myself who has very limited knowledge of Iranian cinema should know before seeing this film is to know is that it is a very painstaking process to get a film made in Iran. While we think that the ratings system in the U.S. is a headache, there is a strict approval process from script to film in Iran, which is one of the many reasons that Panahi has the reputation he does. He’s made films that have criticized the treatment of women in Iran as well as taking what some have called an Iranian form of neorealism oftentimes using non-professional actors in the main roles of his films. Panahi is the true definition of an artist. He’s someone who longs for the opportunity to express himself and having his voice silenced as it has been is devastating to not only him but us as an audience.

The film starts off slow as we see Panahi making himself breakfast and making a phone call his lawyer to discuss whether or not she thinks his sentence will be reduced and if the ban will be lifted. She’s hopeful, but as we now know, neither the sentence nor the ban was reduced or lifted, sadly. Later, he makes a call to a friend of his who we later learn is another Iranian filmmaker, Mojtaba Mirtahmasb. Panahi has invited him over to shoot a reenactment of Panahi’s latest film that was never made about a woman who is locked up by her father to prevent her from enrolling at an art school she’s been accepted to, the idea being that he is banned from directing and writing, but there was never anything said about him acting his story out.

Panahi uses white tape to section off his living room to illustrate the constrictions of the young woman’s room. He begins to discuss the opening shots and sets the overall mood of the film. He shows us pictures and video on his iPhone of the two actresses he was debating between for the lead role as well as the location he wanted to use for the indoor setting. Midway through this reenactment however, Panahi’s mood changes quite suddenly and we witness the heartbreak and frustration on his face. He asks himself why he’s even bothering, as movies are meant to be seen and shared by the world, not read out loud in a living room.

This one scene in particular is the defining reason, at least for me, as to why this film works so well. I’ve often been so removed from understanding what motivates artists in any field. Not that I have anything against different forms of art, I’m just not someone who understands process when it comes to creating something. I don’t know what it means to connect with a character from an acting standpoint, nor do I know what it means to express myself through an abstract drawing or painting. I respect the work from an outsider’s perspective and yet, I fully sympathize with Panahi’s situation especially after witnessing this one scene on film. I see how dreadful and truly terrifying it is for an artist like Panahi to essentially be handcuffed from doing what he loves.

Panahi spends the rest of the film doing a variety of things, which includes viewing DVDs of his films and commenting on specific scenes that exemplified to him what filmmaking truly is: collaboration, inspiration and above all, passion. There’s improvisation, there’s magic, there’s all sorts of different things that can happen when making a film and Panahi relishes in every minute of it. It also includes more phone calls and finally a conversation with his apartment building’s maintenance man, where Panahi accompanies him down each floor of his round until the film abruptly ends as they walk outside.

I walked out of this film feeling helpless for this man but also strangely hopeful because a filmmaker like Panahi exists in the first place. He is a man who stands up for what he believes in, has been silenced as a result of his work, and conveys the notion that despite the odds, he isn’t done yet. It’s the passion that exists in all of us; that idea that Andy Dufresne talked about in The Shawshank Redemption; they can lock us up and throw away the key, but they can’t get the hope that we hold inside.

This Is Not A Film is one of those most honest depictions of what it means to love one’s work that I have seen in a long time. It reminds us that film will always remain a staple of any culture and that no matter whose voice is silenced, the truth will always come out.