Weekly Reel, August 4
Scarlett Johansson sues Disney, the Brazilian Cinematheque burns down, LA County film industry mask mandate, Retro-Review: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, and Essay on the Four Harry Potter Film Directors.
Some quick News:
Scarlett Johansson is suing Disney for breach of contract for streaming Black Widow on Disney + the same day as its theatrical release. In her contract with Marvel, the film was to receive a wide theatrical release with much of Johansson’s financial compensation coming from box office receipts. But Disney stepped in and undercut the contract in order to boost Disney + subscribers, the number of which directly determines Disney’s stock price in its long-term competition with Netflix. Yet again, Disney’s lack of concern for non-executives/investors is obvious—in particular with Disney’s PR backlash to Johansson, claiming she showed a “callous disregard” given the conditions of the lockdown, even though Disney laid off or furloughed 30,000 employees during the pandemic in order to save money. Johansson’s Marvel character is dead in the series, which gives her a certain freedom in confronting the House of Mouse and it appears that other Disney stars (Emma Stone, Emily Blunt, etc.) could be preparing similar legal disputes.
A fire in Sao Paulo destroyed the contents of the Brazilian Cinematheque, which “serves as the largest film archive in South America, with 250,000 rolls of film, 90,000 titles, one million documents and historical materials like early projectors.” The Cinematheque had been abandoned by the Brazilian government for a year following the elimination of its funding and dismissal of its staff. At Cannes a few weeks ago, jury member and Brazilian filmmaker Kleber Mendonça Filho stated: “The Brazilian Cinematheque has been closed for just over a year now…All the technicians and experts have been fired. This has been a very clear demonstration of contempt for culture and for the cinema.” Once again, Brazilian president Jair Bolsonaro is finding ways of fulfilling his dream of transitioning from Dadinho into Zé.
The LA County film industry is requiring masks again, with three outbreaks happening recently at facilities across the county. The delta variant is speeding up the outbreak and not enough people are vaccinated and/or complying with hygiene requirements to contain the spread, which will further delay film productions, releases, and industry events.
Retro-Review: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (Shane Black, United States, 2005)
When I originally planned the “Retro-Review” concept for this newsletter, I intended to highlight the films that aged poorly after receiving critical acclaim at the time of it release. I was thinking of films like The Artist and Hugo, which dominated the awards circuit instead of The Tree of Life, Moneyball, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, or A Separation, the latter films showing, even as I remember they most likely would at the time, the potential to age better than the gimmicky/faux silent film and one of Scorsese’s worst films that nobody over ten years old will (re-)watch. A criterion I considered was a Retro-Oscars: if the 84th Academy Awards from February 2012 were to be held retroactively, would The Artist and Hugo still win a combined ten Oscars?
This brings me to Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Shane Black’s 2005 directorial debut after (co-)writing action films screenplays since 1987’s Lethal Weapon. The film stars Robert Downey Jr. (it was this film that Jon Favreau watched that led to Downey’s casting as Iron Man), who plays a petty thief in New York that escapes to Los Angeles and mistakenly gets an opportunity for a screen test after unknowingly convincing the casting director of his acting ability. At an industry party he reunites with a childhood crush (Michelle Monaghan) and meets a private detective (Val Kilmer) that he’s supposed to follow and mimic for a role. Downey and Kilmer come across a dead body after seeing a car flying into the lake, which begins the unraveling of the crime through typical crime film tropes, oftentimes undercutting and self-referentially commenting on the tropes along the way.
Upon Kiss Kiss Bang Bang’s release, it received mostly positive reviews from critics and audiences but with a marginal box office turnout. The critics mostly enjoyed the performances of Downey Jr. and Kilmer and the action-noir-comedy genre blending, which felt “fresh” at the time. But most notably the film received tepid reviews from influential critics Kenneth Turan at the Los Angeles Times and A.O. Scott at The New York Times. The former wrote that it “turns into a film that is too ostentatiously pleased with itself, so in love with its own cleverness it doesn't notice it's darn near worn you out,” and the latter likened it to a Pulp Fiction parody: “It's just a movie with no particular reason for existing, a flashy, trifling throwaway whose surface cleverness masks a self-infatuated credulity.” Even Roger Ebert ended his review simply with: “Do you need to see it once? Not exactly.”
This brings me to my point: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang has aged quite poorly, which could have been apparent at the time because of its lack of originality, and that Shane Black simply isn’t a good or creative director considering Kiss was the only film he solely directed and wrote (but it was adapted from a book, so not entirely written by him).
A look into the genre of the film reveals its lack of originality and reliance on tropes relevant only in 2005. As the two critics above pointed out, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is too cocksure of itself, especially when it comes to the noir dynamics (modernized damsel in distress, buddy-detective mocking, complicated web of associations, father-daughter power dynamics, etc.) that Black had been familiar with writing for almost two decades. In other words, it’s simply a standard neo-noir parody that isn’t sure (through its direction/writing) what tone to employ. (For example, most serious moments are undercut through slapstick humor, like when Downey gets his finger cut off during a pivotal confrontation with Monaghan.) Black is able to craft the film through using these tropes without leaving his own vision on them. Calling the film a fresh neo-noir, as some critics wrote, shows a lack of film history knowledge; Robert Altman perfected the neo-noir with The Long Goodbye and Tarantino perfected the postmodern neo-noir with Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. Black even lifted the title of the film from Pauline Kael’s 1968 book with the same name and the four chapter titles in the film are the titles of various Raymond Chandler books.
In 1970 Gore Vidal wrote an article for Commentary magazine titled “Literary Gangster,” who are “hit-and-run journalists, without conscience, forced to live precariously by their wits, and those wits are increasingly strained nowadays because there are fewer places to publish in than there used to be, which means a lot more edgy hoods hanging about the playgrounds of the West Side.” Replacing the words “journalists” with filmmakers, “publish” with make films, and “the West Side” with Hollywood, then Black becomes an honorary Cinematic Gangster.
To conclude, there are many aspects of the film that have aged poorly, which blogger Theresa J. Beckhusen explained in detail back in 2016. Beckhusen does a respectable job in sorting out those aged elements without falling into the anachronistic trap; the article sums up this historicizing task nicely:
Upon re-watching, though, I’m concerned but in some ways relieved. Concerned because this movie has a lot of troubling views…and relieved because, at least in some ways, we’ve moved forward in our entertainment. I’m pretty confident were Shane Black to sit down and write this screenplay today, Perry’s character wouldn’t be built almost exclusively on his sexual orientation (btw, Perry doesn’t get any romantic action in this movie, and I’m bummed about that). Maybe Harry would be less of a Good Guy® and just more of a good guy, willing to hear Harmony out and consider her past before making blanket judgments about her and all the women in LA.
Essay: ‘Four Unique Visions’- Harry Potter and The Decade of Change by Callum Barrington
Ten years ago in July the eighth and final Harry Potter film was released in theaters. These films, along with the Lord of the Rings trilogy, came to define the 2000s Hollywood tentpole, fantasy-branded release that Disney would take over in the following decade. (Interestingly, Alan Horn, who was the chief operating officer at Warner Bros. in the 2000s overseeing the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings productions, was pulled out of retirement in 2012 by Disney CEO Bob Iger and went on to oversee the successful tentpole productions from Disney, Pixar, Marvel, and Lucasfilm as Disney chairman in the 2010s.)
Over the course of the ten years between Philosopher's Stone and Deathly Hallows, Part 2, the style of the films differed because of the four directors and their visions, or lack thereof. Steve Kloves had adapted all the novels for the screen except for the fifth film, a continuity that more easily allows one to examine the films as the products of their directors.
Chris Columbus, no relation to the Italian explorer, directed the first two films, Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets. Callum Barrington writes for Filmhounds Magazine about the what ifs for the initial HP directors and Columbus’s contributions:
Many filmmakers had been considered to direct the first film when the rights were initially bought by Warner Bros in 1999. Steven Spielberg pulled out of the running, as did Rob Reiner. Rowling’s first choice had been Terry Gilliam, one of the Monty Python troupe, but the studio decided to hire Chris Columbus instead, who directed family hits such as Home Alone and Mrs Doubtfire. The plan had been for Columbus to helm the entire series, but in the end, he would only direct the adaptations of Philosopher’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets.
Columbus’ two films are certainly the most faithful to the novels they’re based on (most of the dialogue is taken from the original books and almost everything is translated) and they are perfectly adequate movies, but they’re bland. Columbus is more of a journeyman director than a proper filmmaker and his desire to be faithful to every aspect of the books causes his films to feel rather flat. Both Stone and Chamber are films made by committee; overlong, slightly tedious movies that are essentially audiobooks with images…
Columbus does, however, deserve credit for managing to get the series to the screen, hiring John Williams to do the music, and crucially, his casting decisions. The three leads and cast members such as Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltrane and Alan Rickman (arguably his most successful decision) were all chosen by him and would remain with the series throughout its ten-year run. He lays the groundwork and builds the foundation, doing just enough to get himself in a place in cinematic history.
Then Alfonso Cuarón, who only directed the third (and my favorite) film:
…Azkaban is the turning point of the series, the moment it comes of age. Cuaron chooses to shoot much of the film on location in Scotland, using real-life locations and altered set design to bring to life a world that had become decidedly stale. For the first time, Hogwarts feels like a real place, full of wonder and intrigue, danger, and surprise. The castle is captured in wide angle shots that emphasise not only its vastness, but the affection that so many people have for it. It’s no longer a place with dimly lit corridors and anonymous locations, but a place where things can, and indeed do, happen…
Cuarón understands tone and respects the spirit of the book, but he doesn’t allow the movie to become a slavish reproduction of the text. While some fans argued this was the point the series began to ignore the books, nothing in the film betrays what Rowling wrote- in fact, it avoids the fatal mistake of simply regurgitating her writing.
Azkaban is a film driven by its own urgency and a director with his own endgame, who appreciates the differences between literature and visual medium. The pacing is focused, the editing is tight, and the score is dramatic and impactful. His mature approach allows the series to finally be taken seriously in a crowded field. At last, the Potter franchise begins to take its own steps forward.
On Mike Newell, the least liked of the four directors:
After the strengths of Azkaban, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is a let-down. Visually, the movie adopts much of Cuaron’s aesthetic, without the style and with considerably less flair. Newell lacks Cuarón’s grasp of character and pace- too many scenes in the movie feel like they’re just treading water…
Newell and screenwriter Steve Kloves (who adapted all but one of the books) can’t decide whether the movie should be a dark comedy, a thriller, a tortured romance, or an action adventure. The same applies to Ralph Fiennes as Voldemort, whose performance starts well but slips into pantomime as the series progresses.
…While the first two films made the mistake of being too faithful, this one does the opposite. It places the emphasis on the unimportant parts of the book, while ignoring the sections that matter. Perhaps the task was just too big for Newell. He lets the film overwhelm him and therefore, it’s arguably the most inconsistent and, consequently, unnecessary of the series.
Finally, David Yates, director of the final four films and subsequent Fantastic Beasts films:
Yates’ four films vary in both quality and tone. Phoenix is politically driven and sees the characters embark on their first steps towards all out rebellion. Yates’ command of the story is strong, and he garners strong performances from the cast, in particular Daniel Radcliffe, whose scenes opposite Gary Oldman and Rickman are terrific- at last, a Potter film that can make proper use of the tension between Harry and Snape.
Yates doesn’t go overboard with the humour, which is better integrated into the overall plot than was the case with Goblet of Fire. The trio are now firmly into the realm of young adulthood and Yates continues to further the development that was started under Cuarón. The film’s signature moment, which shapes Harry’s entire future, is masterfully done without the use of sound. All it takes is a screaming Harry, a laughing Bellatrix and a haunting musical backdrop.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is a bit more problematic. It’s by far the most aesthetically pleasing of the eight movies, with some gorgeous cinematography from Bruno Delbonnel and some stylistic flourishes that haven’t been present since Azkaban…
The movie’s jerkiness between romcom and tragedy damages its tone and pace- some scenes are genuinely painful to watch because of the dialogue and Yates’ insistence that the film not be too dark. Like Newell, he inserts scenes that don’t add anything to the narrative and puts the focus on the wrong elements…
The two-part finale is a mixed bag. Deathly Hallows Part 1 is unbearably slow. The movie is the most faithful to the text since Chamber of Secrets, which means it inherits the book’s own issues…
The film essentially builds up to the final film without ever really doing anything to stand out. There are some nifty action sequences (possibly the best in the series so far) but they are at the expense of narrative momentum. At times, it seems absurd that this mournful, reflective film is even related to the fluffiness that is Philosopher’s Stone.
Deathly Hallows Part 2, on the other hand, is a triumph. The shortest of the eight movies, it is an out-and-out war film, with scenes of tragedy and sadness combined with acts of genuine heroism and the sort of gallows humour that accompanies the absolute best war films.
Yates keeps the film’s broad strokes faithful to the events in Rowling’s novel and adds a layer of cinematic flair. The pace, in contrast to Part I, is consistent and the tone is appropriate and concise. Hogwarts, for the first time since Azkaban, has its own identity, even if this time it’s gloomy and overwhelmed with the forces of evil…
As a director, Yates is considerably more accomplished than Columbus and Newell. His four films represent a unique vision that, if not always perfect, at least give them their own personalities and quirks. Phoenix and Deathly Hallows Part 2 can stand alongside Azkaban as the best films in the series, while Prince and Part 1 have moments of genuine quality as well. Crucially, Yates immerses himself in the Potter world like Cuarón, but unlike Newell, doesn’t let himself become overawed by it.
Homework assignment: what about the four different directors and their visions can you detect upon repeat viewings?
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