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Glossy! Glitzy!

Those are two words that kept popping inside my head upon walking out of the theatre where I watched this tale of Howard Hughes, one of the greatest, or perhaps the most eccentric men who marked his presence in film industry and aviation field like no other tycoons have ever done. As loaded with larger-than-life images and stories, somehow the plane that I boarded in this film never really took off.

In his latest ambitious effort to capture Best Director prize in Academy Awards, Martin Scorsese tried to put his hand in making another biopic this time, in a scope of epic scale that he has recently indulged himself in to, with the likes of Gangs of New York or recalling a decade earlier, The Age of Innocence. THE AVIATOR focuses on the time span of early to mid 20th century, the time when Howard Hughes name would guarantee admirations and smirks at the same note, just as eccentric as his behavior can be, the name itself similar to the word controversy spelt all around his presence. From a movie-mogul to planes-obsessed person, from Katharine Hepburn to Ava Gardner to numerous starlets, Howards Hughes’ story is the story Hollywood filmmakers are dying to have, as rich as films that Hughes himself might direct or produce.

Yet, as any epics that look splendid on the surface, so does the film.

Scorsese painstakingly put an extra effort in recreating certain looks that he wanted to achieve by using different degrees of color associated to the ‘film-look’ of the era in which any particular part of the story took place, gradually emerged into a more natural look towards the end of the film. Such a pleasant viewing for the eyes, and apparently those external elements of tuneful music, exhilarating set designs and costume design did not help elevating this film to a higher level where I don’t need to wander my mind away for almost three-hour duration.

Which would lead us thinking: what is wrong with the story?

As the film itself was meant to be a tribute to celebrate Hughes remarkable achievement in his peak period of time, which is why the timeline would only stretch from mid 1920s to 1950s, the story seems to be drifting apart in between glorifying his fame to retelling his private live which differ in a great contrast from one another. Certainly John Logan had to bear a difficult task in merging these two, not to mention that the script itself has been tossed around for years in development, suspiciously resulting in catharsis of mediating between the two, leaving different stories stand on their own.

The only thing that is able to keep me glued to my seat is the eclectic performance delivered by Cate Blanchett in her perfect-pitched impersonation as Katharine Hepburn. Not merely mimicking her accent or gesture, Blanchett went to the extent that she imbued the Hepburn persona within herself, so much so that while we could still see Blanchett on the screen without any exaggerated prosthetic makeup, we are taken to the state of believability that the soul of Hepburn was present in the film, thanks to Blanchett decision to play her character from within, and Hepburn’s over-the-top gestures were convincingly and vividly portrayed as if Blanchett has forever donned this role to her own character for a long time.

However, the same cannot be said to Leonardo DiCaprio who tries too hard to capture the eccentricity of Hughes by risking himself to certain unnecessary acts, only show to us that DiCaprio himself has not been able to shake off his own image as a dashing young actor in delivering the role. Looking at him in the big screen, one may not help wondering if Hughes did really raise his eyebrows all the time, or how unconvincing it is to see him alongside the grand presence of Blanchett as Hepburn. It does not help either when he bared himself on the screen to show Hughes’s near-madness mental situation, or his smirk face shown when he got obsessed with cleanliness to the extreme. Call it a curse of his handsome feature, yet DiCaprio fails to bring out Hughes’s eccentricity to convincing performance.

Whereas many people praise this film as the most accessible Scorsese film which he made this as a ‘less-personal’ work, on the other hand I find that decision is regretted as the whole film itself is buried under the applaudable gorgeous presentation. Surely, with all the rising hype and the buzz of the film being one of the best, I could only scratch my head and whispering to myself: One of the most over-rated films ever.

Like a fight, teardrops do fall, blood does burst out, sweat does drop, people do yell, shout and clap. Yet, like a fight, concentration is needed to win. Focusing on your inner strength would help you soar. And there is this huge amount of intensed feeling one can not escape.

MILLION DOLLAR BABY kicks around a classical rags-to-riches fairy tale of one’s determination towards her passion to do what she likes to do, and indeed, prevails to success and stardom. The object of this story centers on Maggie Fitzgerald, a forever-being-waitress woman at her mid-30s who long for a break out of her horrenduous life and found her oasis in boxing. When she sneaks herself in a boxing gym owned by Frankie Dunn, a retired athlete himself, and taken care of by his faithful friend, Eddie Scrap, she is merely being seen as a girl trying to do the impossible. Yet, her persistence wins over Frankie’s ego to train her and launch her professional career into a sensational and phenomenal boxer. However, one occurence would change both their lives in an unexpected way.

You don’t want me to reveal the big surprise, do you?

Then keep yourself seated well and just bear the first 30 minute or so if you find the scenes are a bit lengthy to concentrate on, for the real story begins to build up afterwards, with painfully real fighting scenes shown throughout. However, the power of this film lies mostly on the intensity built between the characters and the settings they are in.

And this is what Clint Eastwood has always done his best: intensity.
Intensed performances from his actors in portraying emotional conflicts within their characters, as captured vividly throughout his films, ranging from bravura performance of Forest Whitaker in Bird, to all-human like character of Gene Hackman in Unforgiven, to sensitivity portrayed by Meryl Streep in The Bridges of Madison County, to brooding Sean Penn does his career best in Mystic River, and the baby herself Hilary Swank who throws herself into complexity portraying the progress of an all woman from desperation to over-joyedness and plunge into falldown all over again. Swank does a justice to this series of great performances of actors in Eastwood’s films and obediently obeying the rules subconsciously set here: no over-the-top dramatic acting style needed, and the intensity of performances needs not be following a certain infamous ‘method’ either. As Maggie, who shifts dramatically from a mere waitress to a boxing star, Swank smoothly plays the character in her own way that eventhough we may not be able to see her immensely becoming Maggie Fitzgerald, unlike the way she magically did with her Brandon Teena in Boys Don’t Cry, we are unable to resist the feeling of being moved and admire this hard-willed character who does not stop fighting until the end of the story. Note how I choose not to use the word ‘symphatize’ here to describe our emotive feeling towards the central character here, as Eastwood aptly decides to portray Maggie in a plain-Jane manner, we can still see her flaws, her naivety and innocence which all make her simply human.

Second intensity that Eastwood excels in doing is, obviously, the intensed story of the film itself, that allows a certain decisive manner in how he wishes to present his film to be, and within the intensity of the story, we are able to see characters’ development that is very focused to suit the whole atmosphere of the film. Most of the times, we are taken into stillness of statutory presence of Freeman and Eastwood who command the scenes whenever they are in, and in the quietness, they deliver the subtext lines that serve well in drawing our attention deeper to the story.
In addition, haunting scores done by Eastwood himself in the tradition of similar simplistic music concept he did earlier in Madison County and Mystic River, gives an enhancement of moody atmosphere suited well to the whole context of this film.

As such, Eastwood prove himself to be alive and kicking hard by delivering this powerful film that punches hard in silence. Among the crowds of brainless, sound/visual effects-maddening trash, Million slips quietly and win over our hearts for its sincerity, plainness frank of storytelling that seems to be a rarity these days.

Those expecting over-melodramatic violence of wars, riots, unrests and alike, kindly be disappointed, for what you’re about to see is an honest and plainly real retelling of an overlook horrible act of human inadequacy from one man’s point of view. Nothing more, nothing less, just about the right proportion.

HOTEL RWANDA centers around Rwanda’s infamous genocide breakout as seen by Paul Rusesabagina, a hotelier who lives his life as the way a man of his age acts: happily settled himself surrounded by loving kids and faithful wife, Tatiana; superbly manages his business by shamelessly admitting the acts of corruption as the key to his survival, which has led him to ignorance of his surroundings.
Not until the gradual tension of the war slowly starts rubbing his attention and changes him from a material-minded businessman to be an unconditional hero who determinedly saves the people from succumbing themselves deeper to those unfortunate conditions.

Your curiosity may focus on the fact whether such a theme that could easily be the source of inspiration from any cheesy made-for-TV flicks is, in fact, cliché. Thanks to Terry George who aptly decided to put the spotlight of the whole hype inside the hotel so as to make an objective point of view towards such a sensitive issue like this, what we get to see is one of the most profoundly humane war stories that ever made to the screen.

By being humane means that George allows the audience to see clearly the progress in the characters’ lives, how Paul and Tatiana are presented as regular folks who, along with their fellow countrymen, never expect such an occurrence would come to their established life, how Paul as a family man would be exhausting himself from head to toe saving his family by doing what he knows best, bribing, stealing and making the best use of any chance he’s got, yet such so-called indecency act is naturally justifiable and accepted at confusing times like that. After all, George would never let any scenes of his wonderfully conceptualized film here fall flat to become mere linking images from one scene to another as each and every frame of story here would complete one another to form a continuous storyline that, simply, move the audience to tears.

For that effect, Don Cheadle carries the major task on his shoulder, and gladly I say that he succeeds doing so. Not necessarily imitating the titular role who is still healthily alive and kicking, and in fact was the consultant of this film, Cheadle adapts the role by interpreting the character on his own and embodies his psychological behavior very well to the extent that we are convinced to see the painful expression on several emotional scenes meant to wrench your heart. His adopted African accent is impeccable, and the chemistry that he made with Sophie Okonedo is painfully real, enchanting us even to the slightest during their brief romance scene that provides a sense of relief throughout the film.
Okonedo herself puts a certain air of bravery in her womanly role, a role of a housewife that has to provide comfort to her children, her husband and herself. Such a role that seems to be destined as object of condemnation in most films proves to be a meaty one, thanks to her believable acting that slips along the scenes well without necessarily stealing the spotlight from Cheadle.

A one feel-good drama that will leave you feeling fulfilled without shedding unnecessary tears. You will be moved, you will shout in triumphant full of joy.

BEING JULIA sparks the reminiscence of glorious old Hollywood days when larger-than-life characters often portrayed on the screen and be given serious considerations by putting them into, simply, good films. As the time progressed up to date where reality-look-alike has become increasingly boring, we turn ourselves to even greater contrast in those visual-effects driven films, and once in a while, a small film like Being Julia here is released to remind us how acting, a good one, defines the quality of a film in general and to the extent of lifting up the film from its fluffiness.

Take a look of the story. The aging diva Julia Lambert (Annette Bening in her performance of a lifetime) is at the brink of her downfall popularity, not even her husband who is also the theatre manager in which they formed together (played by Jeremy Irons who seems not being able to capture comic timings) could help her finding some excitement to satisfy her own self. Not until she encountered a dashing young American (Shaun Evans) when she embarked on an illicit affair, without her acknowledgement that she was being manipulated by him for his own agenda, i.e. providing a stepping stone for his girlfriend, a new starlet Avice Crichton (Lucy Punch). Or did she really not know?

Once she got to know the games played behind her back, then the real fun of the film begins.

The storyline may recall the similarity found in All About Eve, with a hint of playfulness a la Sunset Boulevard, and who can resist the combination of both? At times funny, nail-biting sharp bantering lines continues to march throughout the film, over-the-top gestures that provide comic elements, they are wrapped harmoniously under the direction of Istvan Szabo who certainly having a good time making this film. It may not be his best as that one is reserved for his glorious Sunshine, but to see the good elements of one enjoyable film are put nicely in such a watchable presentation that never falls out of the sync is an applaudable effort, isn’t it?

Moreover so with a grand presence of Annette Bening in the house.

In the tradition of films (seem to be) catered, crafted, designed and made to one particular actress playing the designated role of their careers, such as how All About Eve means Bette Davis, Sunset Boulevard refers to Gloria Swanson, Sophie’s Choice belongs to Meryl Streep, or recent examples would give Salma Hayek is destined to play Frida, so is Annette Bening who goes further in merely playing as Julia. Seeing this film from the very first minute to the end, we will be seeing Bening embodies and steps into her character so well that we begin to forget the presence of a certain often under-appreciated actress playing the role of her lifetime. Every lines shown in her face belong to Julia’s, so do the mimics, the gestures, the grandeur movements of hers that beyond the word believable. In other words that may seem to be overtly used for some meaningless promotional advertisements of bad films, yet you can rely on me this time, I proudly state that Annette Bening is Being Julia.

What a sweet revenge it is if she wins at the Academy Awards this time, for it means a tribute and a win to Davis, Swanson, and other grand actresses who never won playing roles they know better than anyone else: a diva.

At times, I have to close my eyes, block my ears, to avoid listening to words the characters say, for they are simply too painful to hear. Not that they are bad, but they are meant to evoke your utmost sense in dealing with lies, deception, and betrayal.

CLOSER presents a close look on how one has to deal with complexity in not just a relationship or two, or not even countable as those relationships are intertwined and tangled dizzyingly to one another. Take a look.

Meet Alice, a free-spirited American girl trying a piece of her life in London who, on one clear day, stumbles upon Dan, a struggling novelist who ends up being an obituary writer, who will be falling in love with Anna, a successful photographer at the height of her career, who will be taken by the charm of Larry, a doctor with typical male-chauvinist pig character inside of him, who will be longing for Alice’s presence at times when his life starts crumbling down.

Confused? We only reach the start. The core is much more interesting to see.

Once we peek at their domestic lives, we know that we can expect something different, unlike any other films dealing with similar theme before, for this time around, Mike Nichols has returned to his roots in theatrical/stage-y manner of presenting human interpersonal matters in a frank manner that to some extent shifts towards being blatant, blunt, and brutal, in the tradition of his own Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? or Carnal Knowledge, or Wit, or even Angels in America without any advanced visual effects. The shocking effects we can expect are Patrick Marber’s intimidating and manipulative words from his own play. The words are not merely written for the sake of having scenes that flow smoothly from one scene to another, but they are created thoughtfully and crafted through the ways they are uttered convincingly so much so that we will be leaving with questions whether those words are literally real, true or even deceiving?

Or do we begin to choose to accept the reality as the way we want to perceive it as is?

The way this film is presented without any clear conscience on timeframe actually enables us as the audience to choose the angle we wish to see and interpret the story, be it seen as a harsh, funny, witty or even dramatic rendition of human relationships, in any form. And the tendency to confront ourselves with words instead of action does actually happen in our lives, as we think that we can hide under the comfort zone of manipulations and lies, yet these two will actually trap us down deeper to the holes of continuous, endless fakes of reality.

Such a heavyweight theme, don’t you think? Yet, the way these sexual matters are told instead of meaninglessly shown would not giving you hard times or painful sitting through throughout the entire duration, and I can’t help questioning whether this is Nichol’s reason on the choice of the cast. Let’s see.

Julia Roberts in her furthest departure from usual roles she has played so far, provides a certain confidence in her uptight character of Anna, yet being bombarded with the regretful fact that the role was meant to be played by the always-reliable Cate Blanchett has hindered me from giving an objective view of Julia’s turnout here. I rest my case here. All I can come up with is how I do enjoy seeing Julia here, although the execution can be triggered to a higher level.

The same case happens to Jude Law, somehow is still unable to shake-off his own persona in playing the role of Dan that actually require the actor to bear his skin through his gentleness and sweet, tender gestures suggesting playful characters. Yet, Law only manages to barely reach the surface of the character as we can still see Law carrying himself here, somehow it’s hard for me to differentiate his Dan and his Alfie in another film of the same name.

That leaves us with two actors who, surprisingly, manage to hold their own screen presence in this film strongly and superbly: Clive Owen and Natalie Portman.

Playing a tart with deceiving heart that longing for truthfulness in other human beings she encounters in her life, Portman injects a strong dose of child-like feminine characterization to her Alice, suggesting that she can be fragile yet approachable at the same time; her journey in finding herself being loved faithfully by men surrounding her would mean sacrifice that she has to endure and that makes her strong, manipulative and decisive.

Clearly this is the most mature role Portman has ever played to date, and seeing her carrying her role with vivid understanding of a woman being victimized by her surroundings leave me feeling thrilled, as every minute of her screen time would be filled with surprises clearly shown in her facial expression, and it really is hard to believe that it’s been a decade since she made an outburst entrance in Leon The Professional.

Finally, if one has to single out one performance that stands out and apart from the rest, the noble honor belongs to Clive Owen, at last playing a role that deserves our attention and suitably match his charisma, his charm and his towering presence as a character actor. We can’t help seeing his character, Larry, here as a beast and as I wrote earlier, a typical male-chauvinist pig, and we get to the part of dismissing this character further as Owen plays the character in a menacing way, plainly honest in revealing his own truest fear and insecurity over his holdups. The rising of sensitive, new age guy has been clearly defied by Owen who gives macho-ism in his character here, and being Larry enables Owen to showcase his amazing range of acting skills that would be enviable to character-actors wannabe out there. Studious character that is played without being over-acted, Larry belongs to that rarity of characters who can be both loved and loathed at the same time, and Owen does his Larry convincingly that we begin to wonder on how this man, this particular character has been living around us all this time.

Being a human being with all the failures, the risings and the longing for boredom and steadiness in relationships, I can’t help myself reeling over this film. Never before sex, lies, truth and deceits are given an intellectual treatment with smart and witty lines peppered here and there, capturing not only your eyes but also your mind, captivating your senses to begin questioning:

What is truth?

CLOSER is all about the most sexually and sensually brutal film ever.