REVIEW: Get Him to the Greek

Get Him to the Greek (2010): Dir. Nicholas Stoller. Written by: Nicholas Stoller (based on characters created by Jason Segel). Starring: Russell Brand, Jonah Hill, Sean "Diddy" Combs. Rated R (strong sexual content and drug use throughout, and pervasive language). Running time: 109 minutes.

2 ½ stars (out of four)

Aldous Snow, the scene-stealing British rocker from 2008’s Judd Apatow-produced film, Forgetting Sarah Marshall (also directed by Nicholas Stoller), returns in a loose spin-off of that film that builds off comedian Russell Brand’s wonderful parody of the womanizing frontman and delves deeper – sort of – into the life of the fictional rockstar.

Get Him to the Greek finds Aldous Snow at a low-point in his career after a misguided foray in political music yields the offensive bomb of a single, “African Child (Trapped in Me).” Snow’s failure, however, provides Aaron Green, an intern for Pinnacle Records and longtime fan of Snow’s music, with an opportunity to resurrect his favorite artist’s career. Green (played by Jonah Hill) pitches the idea of a comeback concert for Snow to his boss (Sean “Diddy” Combs) so that the record label can commemorate the ten-year anniversary of Snow’s famous concert at the Greek Theatre and cash in on the CD re-releases of Snow’s back catalog. The label agrees and gives Green 72 hours to fly to London and get Snow back to L.A. for the show.

The set-up is a little forced, as though it were constructed to be neatly summarized in a 3-minute trailer – or perhaps a poster’s tagline – but once the proceedings get going, the film delivers good on its high-concept promise. As Green struggles to get Snow on time to the concert, we’re treated to a series of inspired party montages that breathe new life into sex and vomit gags… I mean that as a genuine compliment. For all its crudeness though, Get Him to the Greek also has an unfortunate reliance on sentimental sitcom-quality drama. Green’s storyline is a tired moving-away-from-home-for-his-girlfriend’s-career conflict and even rocker Aldous Snow can’t escape the film’s tendency towards trite drama. When Snow reconnects with his child near the end of the film, the tone is unclear and we’re unsure if the moment is meant to be a funny or a genuine one. Where other Apatow-produced affairs deftly blend comedy with heartfelt emotion, Get Him to the Greek isn’t as good a fit for that treatment. The film’s dramatic moments fail because Snow is too much of a caricature to show any real emotion and the cheating Green is too skeevy to muster any audience sympathy.

All these issues are rendered irrelevant, however, when the film lets Russell Brand loose in a fine comedic performance. Brand captures the air-headed rockstar persona, but his character’s insistent affection for that drug-addled lifestyle of meaningless hook-ups keeps the character an endearing nitwit and less like some of his more unlikable real-life counterparts. His confession to Green about why he continues his drug addiction (“I don’t have to worry about anything except drugs,” he says.) manages to be quite funny and maybe even a little poignant coming out of Brand’s mouth. Brand’s scenes are such breaths of fresh air, you wish the film had cut down on Jonah Hill’s character if only to give Brand more time for one-liners. Hill does fine in supporting roles (such as Forgetting Sarah Marshall), but he can’t quite hold his own when sharing the spotlight with Brand. There are some good supporting players though, such as Sean “Diddy” Combs’s quick-to-anger record label manager. Combs struggles in his first few scenes, but ultimately succeeds in his portrayal of an exaggerated music executive that stays just shy of the extreme territory tread by Tom Cruise’s Les Grossman from Tropic Thunder.

Brand’s excellent performance is complemented by a soundtrack of faux songs by Snow’s fictional band, Infant Sorrow. The songs – written by Brand, Sarah Marshall screenwriter Jason Segel, and a host of real musicians including Jarvis Cocker and Libertines-frontman Carl Barat – are skilled parodies of Killers-esque arena-rock anthems. One song, “Bangers, Beans & Mash,” is so convincing, it might be mistaken for an Oasis b-side in a different context. Another, entitled “Going Up,” features emphatically delivered lines such as, “Like a dog who’s gone insane, you’re putting me down, down down,” and “African Child” is a wonderful send-up of the rockstar-gone-political. We even get the Lady Gaga-imitation pop icon, Jackie Q, whose vulgar dance lyrics are less than subtle. Still, these songs aren’t as strong as the ingenious Dracula puppet-opera from Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and they pale too in comparison to another Apatow-produced film, Walk Hard, whose songs were so well written, they almost held their own against the Johnny Cash originals they parodied.

There’s plenty of ripe material for a satire on the music industry, but Get Him to the Greek never points its gun at the fans who worship morons like Snow or the media that propagates them, preferring instead to use the extravagant rockstar lifestyle as a launching pad for raunchy comedy. More might have been done with the Snow character, but the film is an earnest comedy and you can’t fault a film for setting its sights low when it hits its target fine.

- Steve Avigliano, 6/10/10

REVIEW: Iron Man 2

Iron Man 2 (2010): Dir. Jon Favreau. Written by: Justin Theroux. Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Mickey Rourke, Scarlett Johansson, Sam Rockwell, and Samuel L. Jackson. Rated PG-13 (sequences of intense sci-fi action and violence, and some language). Running time: 124 minutes.

3 stars (out of four)

Iron Man 2 is a sequel that takes everything that made the first enjoyable and, with freewheeling fun, revels in its own cartoonishness. This is a film where characters ask for music before they fight and Samuel L. Jackson is given an extended eye-patched cameo. Director Jon Favreau pushes the Iron Man universe into over-the-top territory, but we stay with him every step of the way because he does so with the cool confidence of Tony Stark himself.

The film picks up where the first left off, with Tony Stark revealing himself to the public as Iron Man and enjoying the increased media attention. News clippings in the opening titles inform us that Stark has used his Iron Man suit to end war in the Middle East, becoming an international icon. Stark hoards the suit for himself, however, resisting the U.S. government’s insistence that he turn over the technology, though his decision to do so seems to be as motivated by boastfulness as it is by political caution. These scenes are used more as plot devices than anything else, and the film largely abandons the first film’s tongue-in-cheek depiction of Stark’s all-American pro-gun stance. Still, Robert Downey Jr.’s charismatic performance owns the film. Even after learning that the chemicals that power his suit are slowly killing him, Stark is his usual cocky self, throwing himself a birthday bash and drunkenly using his suit for some pretty exciting party tricks.

Stark’s self-confidence comes into question when Ivan Vanko, a burly Russian played by Mickey Rourke, proves capable of recreating the arc reactor technology that makes the Iron Man suit so powerful. Vanko, whose father was an unsung co-developer of the arc reactor, seeks to take down the Stark family name by picking a fight with Stark at the Monaco Grand Prix car race, the first and most exciting action scene in the film. Vanko’s backstory and scheme are less important, however, than his size and attitude, and Rourke has a lot of fun grunting his way through his lines in a thick Russian accent, doing more grimacing than speaking.

Sam Rockwell, who plays the film’s secondary villain, a fast-talking rival weapons manufacturer named Justin Hammer, continues to prove himself one of Hollywood’s finest character actors, bringing his usual quirkiness and humor to the role. Hammer recruits Vanko to help build an Iron Man suit of his own, and the interplay between Rockwell and Rourke recall the strange relationship between Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare’s characters in Fargo. Favreau uses their scenes to emphasize the film’s lighthearted tone, but remains focused on Stark, utilizing Rourke and Rockwell as colorful side characters.

The remaining characters in the film, however, lack the zest and charm of the main players. Gwyneth Paltrow is charming enough as Pepper Potts, but her character’s origins remain a disconcerting mystery to me. I was willing to accept her in the first film as the Moneypenny to Stark’s Bond, existing to serve the dual purpose of helping the hero and providing some sexual tension, but this becomes difficult to believe when Stark appoints her CEO of the company. She makes a fine assistant to be sure, but where are her business credentials? Don Cheadle is a serviceable replacement for Terrence Howard as sidekick James Rhodes, but there is little Cheadle can do though to change what was, and remains, a dull supporting character.

While many recent superhero films have pretensions of grand drama, Iron Man 2 succeeds because it embraces its comic book origins and allows itself to go over-the-top with larger-than-life characters, plenty of pyrotechnics and a self-aware wit. Late in the film, Stark remarks to Rhodes, “I thought you were out of one-liners,” poking fun at the film while sneaking in another laugh. Then there’s Samuel L. Jackson as the mysterious Nick Fury, whose role is apparently just a setup for the Avengers crossover movie that’s coming out in 2012. The tie-in might have come off as an annoying marketing scheme if Jackson wasn’t so much fun in the role. He brings his typical relish to his lines and almost veers into self-parody (one scene in a donut shop seems a deliberate reference to Pulp Fiction), but he manages to keep the audience in on the fun. Scarlett Johansson shows up too as Stark’s new assistant and undercover agent, Black Widow, who Wikipedia informs me, is another tie-in to the upcoming Avengers film. Johansson’s role here confirms my suspicions about her as an actress. Most of her scenes consist of Stark ogling her until the end when she gets to do some sexy fighting, but nothing in the way of real acting.

Iron Man 2, much like Stark himself, is all about style. There are plenty of inventive action sequences and explosions to fit the summer blockbuster bill, but enough winking at the camera to remind everyone that it’s all in the name of fun. Like its predecessor, the rather complicated plot gets reduced in the end to an action scene, which is the norm for most superhero movies, but keeps Iron Man from reaching the bar Christopher Nolan set with the new Batman films. Still, this is a worthy sequel that, by celebrating the over-the-top nature of its comic book origins, becomes every bit as entertaining as the first.

- Steve Avigliano, 5/12/10

Oscar Reactions

Well, I was 15 for 24 which puts me at 62.5%, and 7 for 8 on the major categories. Could have been worse but I need to step up my guessing game on the Shorts. To wrap up the night, I'll give out a few of my own awards for tonight's ceremony.

Biggest Surprise:

Not a lot of big ones, but I wasn't expecting Precious to take Best Adapted Screenplay. I thought there'd be a chance Quentin Tarantino would take home Best Original Screenplay (and frankly, I would have rather heard his acceptance speech than anyone else's), but Up in the Air seemed a safe bet for Adapted Screenplay.

Best Acceptance Speech:

I kind of liked Jeff Bridges's rambling list of "thank you's" and occasional bursts of laughter for no apparent reason, but my favorite was the French guy, Nicolas Schmerkin, who won for Best Animated Short. A couple weird jokes about being in America and taking 6 years to make a 15 minute film and that was it. Nice and short. Though, Sandy Powell's brief acceptance for Best Costume Design was welcome too.

Worst Acceptance Speech:

This one easily goes to Best Documentary Short where Roger Ross Williams got the Kanye treatment by his co-winner, Elinor Burkett. Not sure why they didn't both go up together, but you can relive the awkwardness here.

Easiest Way to Cut Down the Overlong Telecast:

I'm tempted to say that long dance number for Best Original Score (why were they doing "the robot" to music from The Hurt Locker?), but this award has to go to those self-indulgent speeches for every Best Actor and Actress nominee. These people don't need to hear any more about how great they are, and I certainly don't want to listen.

Other than that, the Oscars were what they always are: the Oscars... drawn-out and full of pompous self-importance. I liked Ben Stiller's Na'vi and a few of Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin's jokes (though even those weren't much to speak of), but I'm happiest to see that at the end of the day, The Hurt Locker took home the big prize it deserves and even a few of the technical awards I thought Avatar would scoop up. Congrats, Ms. Bigelow.

- Steve Avigliano, 3/08/10

Oscar Predictions!

Well, tonight is the Oscars ceremony and what kind of movie blog would this be without an entry on the biggest movie awards show? To be honest, I’ve found it difficult to muster up much enthusiasm for the Oscars in recent years. The Academy Awards are political and the winners are rarely representative of the year’s true best. Still, they’re better than the Golden Globes – the Academy Awards at least have a certain level of prestige. Like it or not, the Oscars hold a lot of influence over a movie’s exposure, and I can hardly dismiss them as irrelevant.

This year is a special one for the Oscars because the Academy has decided to bump up the number of Best Picture nominees from five to ten, the first time since 1944 they’ve done so. When I first heard about the change, I chalked it up to an attempt to get better ratings for the telecast. Ratings have been down the last few years, and many people believed the reason was because viewers simply weren’t familiar with the movies nominated. And so with the extra nominees this year, a few more popular movies got a nod that probably wouldn’t have otherwise (The Blind Side, District 9, Up) and the name recognition of these movies might lure a few people to turn on their TVs. Will having twice as many nominees for Best Picture really change much though? I don’t think so. Had there only been the usual five, the nominees would have likely fallen in line with the nominees for Best Director (Avatar, The Hurt Locker, Inglourious Basterds, Precious, Up in the Air) – though nominated, the other five don’t stand a chance of winning. Still, being able to put “Nominated for Best Picture” on your DVD case is a big deal, and I’m happy to see District 9, one of my favorites of the summer, get the formal recognition.

The real race this year is between James Cameron’s behemoth, Avatar, and Kathryn Bigelow’s, The Hurt Locker. Avatar has been the favorite to win for weeks and as the highest grossing movie of all time, it’s the one most people watching at home will be rooting for. But The Hurt Locker got the most critical attention this year – and if you ask me, it’s the year’s best film. Adding to the fun of the race is the fact that the two directors were once married – something you can be sure hosts Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin will be making plenty of jokes about.

So who take home those little golden trophies this year? My fearless predictions are below. We’ll see tonight how close I came.

BEST PICTURE

Nominees: Avatar, The Blind Side, District 9, An Education, The Hurt Locker, Inglourious Basterds, Precious, A Serious Man, Up, Up in the Air

My Prediction: The Hurt Locker. Every week that passes, Avatar loses a little steam, and in the end, I think voters will recognize that The Hurt Locker is the better film. Avatar is a remarkable achievement and it’ll take many of the technical awards, but The Hurt Locker is the year’s most important film, encapsulating the Iraq War better than any previous film on the subject has. Avatar may still take the grand prize, but none of the other nominees stand a chance against these two.

BEST DIRECTOR

Nominees: Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker), James Cameron (Avatar), Lee Daniels (Precious), Jason Reitman (Up in the Air), Quentin Tarantino (Inglourious Basterds)

My Prediction: Kathryn Bigelow. Avatar might take Best Picture, but this one’s all Bigelow’s. There’s a fair amount of anti-Cameron sentiments floating around, and the man has already won for Titanic. Also working in Bigelow’s favor is the fact that she would be the first woman to ever win the award (she’s only the fourth to be nominated). Not to mention, she completely deserves it.

BEST ACTOR

Nominees: Jeff Bridges (Crazy Heart), George Clooney (Up in the Air), Colin Firth (A Single Man), Morgan Freeman (Invictus), Jeremy Renner (The Hurt Locker)

My prediction: Jeff Bridges. Bridges has been “That Guy” in Hollywood for years, making strong supporting appearances in smaller films but never a major leading role. This is the performance that has been getting the most buzz, and none of the other nominees would be as meaningful of a win as this one.

BEST ACTRESS

Nominees: Sandra Bullock (The Blind Side), Helen Mirren (The Last Station), Casey Mulligan (An Education), Gabourey Sidibe (Precious), Meryl Streep (Julie & Julia)

My Prediction: Sandra Bullock. People love Sandra Bullock. It’s the only way to explain how The Proposal grossed over $300 million. At this point Meryl Streep’s nomination is practically obligatory and not enough people are familiar enough with An Education for Casey Mulligan to trump Bullock (though she did win the BAFTA award for which Bullock wasn’t even nominated).

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Nominees: Matt Damon (Invictus), Woody Harrelson (The Messenger), Christopher Plummer (The Last Station), Stanley Tucci (The Lovely Bones), Christoph Waltz (Inglourious Basterds)

My Prediction: Christoph Waltz. More than any other nominee in the whole damn ceremony, Waltz has this in the bag. Quentin Tarantino may never win an Oscar for directing, but he gets great performances out of his actors and they will continue to win in his place. Waltz’s cutthroat and excitable Nazi was one of the best parts of an already wildly entertaining film, and I couldn’t be happier with all the recognition he’s getting.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Nominees: Penélope Cruz (Nine), Vera Farmiga (Up in the Air), Maggie Gyllenhaal (Crazy Heart), Anna Kendrick (Up in the Air), Mo’Nique (Precious)

My Prediction: Mo’Nique. The Oscars love intensity, and there’s plenty of that here. After Waltz, Mo’Nique is one of the safest bets in the race. For smaller films such as Precious, the Academy often recognizes the whole film in one category, and that will be the case here. I loved Farmiga and Kendrick in Up in the Air, but they’ll have to wait for a different year.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Nominees: The Hurt Locker, Inglourious Basterds, The Messenger, A Serious Man, Up

My Prediction: The Hurt Locker. This is a solid lineup, but The Hurt Locker will trump here. It’s a smart movie that’s as much an examination of masculinity as it is an action film. Bigelow may get most of the credit for this movie, but without the authentic details and episodic structure of the script, the movie would not be as memorable. The Coen Brothers could surprise with A Serious Man, but I wouldn’t bet on it. And as much as I love Basterds, it’s too eccentric and violent for the Academy.

BEST ADAPTED SCREEPLAY

Nominees: District 9, An Education, In the Loop, Precious, Up in the Air

My Prediction: Up in the Air. Up in the Air manages to pull of comedy and genuine emotion while also reflecting on the place of humanity in an increasingly technology-dependent world. It’s a wonderful script and I’ll be happy to see it win.

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

Nominees: Coraline, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Princess and the Frog, The Secret of Kells, Up

My Prediction: Up. Pixar can rest safely once again. And while it’d be nice to see Wes Anderson’s clay-mation Mr. Fox win, the Best Picture nomination for Up is a pretty clear sign where people’s sentiments are here.

BEST FOREIGN FILM
Nominees: Ajami (Israel), El Secreto de Sus Ojos (Argentina), The Milk of Sorrow (Peru), Un Prophète (France), The White Ribbon (Germany)

My Prediction: The White Ribbon. This is category that’s always tough to call. After Germany’s The Lives of Others upset Pan’s Labyrinth a few years ago, however, German cinema has been becoming increasingly prominent, so my bet is with this German-language film from Michael Haneke.

And my predictions for the rest of the nominees…

Art Direction: Avatar

Cinematography: The Hurt Locker

Costume Design: Coco Before Chanel

Documentary: Burma VJ

Film Editing: The Hurt Locker

Makeup: Star Trek

Original Score: Up

Original Song: “The Weary Kind” (Crazy Heart)

Sound Editing: The Hurt Locker

Sound Mixing: Avatar

Visual Effects: Avatar

And as is tradition, three complete guesses on the nominees for the shorts based entirely on their names (thankfully, Academy members have to see these in a special screening before they can vote for them)…

Documentary Short: The Last Campaign of Governor Booth Gardner

Live Action Short: Instead of Abracadabra

Animated Short: A Matter of Loaf and Death

That’s all of them. We’ll see tonight at 8:30pm how many I got right, and I’ll check in tomorrow with some general thoughts about the evening.

- Steve Avigliano, 3/07/10

BEST OF THE DECADE - Final Thoughts

Having now revealed my list for the Best Films of the Decade, I’d like to take a moment to say a few last things about the films on it as well as address some general comments from readers regarding the list.

One detail a few readers took issue with was my placement of both Kill Bill films and all three Lord of the Rings films on the list. These people have argued that this is “cheating,” and I should pick one film from each series for inclusion on the list. While I do concede that there are differences in tone and plot for both halves of Kill Bill and each film in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, I do not believe the differences are stark enough to warrant separation on a list such as this one. Both Kill Bill and Lord of the Rings were conceived as single projects and filmed together. In the years to come, they will be remembered together, not separately. Without its companion film to complement it, neither Kill Bill film is as strong as the whole, and Lord of the Rings similarly works best when approached as one three-part epic.

Regarding Adaptation, I have a few reasons for giving it the top spot aside from the arguments I make in the review. More so than any other film on the list, Adaptation embodies a self-awareness that is very much a product of our time. Thanks to the popularity of behind-the-scenes DVD features and widespread availability of the Internet, moviegoers are becoming increasingly aware of the filmmaking process. Charlie Kaufman and Spike Jonze allow their film to adopt this self-consciousness and then they have fun with it. From a more personal perspective, Adaptation was the film that turned my interest in movies into an unabashed love of movies. It is the one film I continue to return to, always finding something new to appreciate in it, and that is the mark of a truly great film.

Keep in mind that these are only my personal choices and not an objective study of the last decade in cinema. Feel free to post a comment below including your choices for the decade’s best, or any other comments/gripes about my own list. Below is an aesthetically pleasing list of my choices from one to ten. Comment away!

1) Adaptation

2) The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

3) No Country For Old Men

4) The Departed

5) There Will Be Blood

6) A History of Violence

7) Requiem For a Dream

8) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

9) 25^th Hour

10) Kill Bill Vol. 1 & 2

- Steve Avigliano, 2/16/10

BEST OF THE DECADE - #1: Adaptation

Adaptation (2003): Dir. Spike Jonze. Written by Charlie Kaufman and Donald Kaufman, based on the book The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean. Starring: Nicholas Cage, Meryl Streep, Chris Cooper, Brian Cox. Rated R (language, sexuality, some drug use and violent images). Running time: 114 minutes.

**NOTE: This review freely discusses the ending of the film, so be forewarned of spoilers.

The first time I saw Adaptation, I sat in a daze, staring blankly at the credits scrolling up the screen, trying to grapple with the film’s ending. The opening scenes had me hooked early, and the insecurities of neurotic screenwriter, Charlie Kaufman (Nicholas Cage), in both his personal and professional life had struck a chord with me. That the real-life screenwriter Charlie Kaufman had written Adaptation’s screenplay made the film wonderfully self-deprecating. I appreciated the character Charlie’s mockery of Hollywood clichés, his witty banter with his less cerebral twin brother, Donald (also Nicholas Cage), and the smart and biting jabs at the movie takes at the film industry. However, as the film follows Charlie’s struggle to adapt a seemingly un-adaptable book called The Orchid Thief, something strange happens. Kaufman the character writes himself into his screenplay and it becomes apparent that the script he is writing is the film we are watching. Now I was positively delighted by the film’s unabashed self-reference, but soon found the film had at least one more trick up its sleeves. The real-life Charlie Kaufman wisely avoids self-reference simply for the sake of it, and ends the film by throwing in every Hollywood convention in the book, leaving the film on an odd note of uncertainty. Why would a film so deliberately cop out in the final scenes? After many more viewings of the film, the true goals of Adaptation begin to reveal themselves. Though the film has much to say about the film industry and Hollywood clichés, it is ultimately about how we live our lives and how our expectations for the way our lives should be affect the way we live.

Charlie Kaufman, as depicted in Adaptation, is socially inept and desperate for female affection, but terrified of making of the first move. He drops a woman off at her house after a date, neglecting to kiss her when he had the chance. Idling in the car, he kicks himself for missing the opportunity and wonders what would happen if he just got out of the car, knocked on her door and kissed her. “It would be romantic,” he says in a voice-over, “Something we could someday tell our kids.” These are the expectations he gained from a lifetime of watching romantic movies and, lacking the courage to play the part of a romantic, he drives away dejected. Magazine writer Susan Orlean (Merryl Streep), in scenes that loosely dramatize The Orchid Thief, is a spiritual partner to Charlie, also wishing she had the courage to make a major change in her life. She wants to feel passionate about something in the same way her subject, the eccentric John Laroche (Chris Cooper), feels about orchids. Both Charlie and Orlean have dramatic foils that show them a seemingly better way of living. Charlie’s foil is Donald, who has no trouble writing successful screenplays or flirting with women. Meanwhile, Orlean envies Laroche for being able to detach himself so easily from something and move on.

On one level, the film’s ending is an extension of these themes. Let’s assume for a moment that the ending, which includes everything Charlie claims to despise in Hollywood movies (drugs, sex, guns, car chases, characters learning profound life lessons), actually happens within the reality of the film. The final shot in particular, featuring The Turtles’ “Happy Together,” is strangely upbeat considering Donald has just died in a car accident, Laroche was eaten by alligators, and Orlean’s life is in shambles. Kaufman seemingly betrays everything that has come before by tacking on a fluff ending that provides no real dramatic or emotional closure. This “fluff ending” might, however, be viewed as a satirical look at the ways in which individuals try to live their lives like a Hollywood film. After attending a screenwriting seminar by Robert McKee (Brian Cox), Charlie tells McKee that the seminar hit him deeper than his screenwriting choices. McKee’s advice that things must happen in a screenplay reflects poignantly on Charlie’s “choices as a human being.” Following the seminar, Charlie decides to find Susan in Florida, and in his spying escapade, he finds life as Hollywood sees it: secret affairs, exotic drugs and an exhilarating encounter with death. Little has changed about Charlie by the final scene, and yet he smiles after he learns the woman he loves will never be with him. Despite the sadness that has entered his life, he seems content with the Hollywood ending.

Adaptation also functions, perhaps more obviously, as a criticism of Hollywood movies and the advice of story seminars such as McKee’s. Throughout the film, Donald is a comic figure and his script pitches to his brother are some of the film’s funniest moments, poking fun at cookie-cutter scripts and genre films. At one point, Donald describes a chase scene in his movie where the protagonist rides a motorcycle in pursuit of a serial killer on horseback. “It’s like a battle between motors and horses,” he explains, “Like technology versus horse.” The McKee seminar is similarly mocked. “A last act makes a film,” says McKee, “Wow them in the end, you got a hit.” Charlie does just that. He deliberately packs the final forty minutes with all the contrived drama he can in an effort to show how absurd McKee’s philosophy is.

Despite its many contrivances, however, the last act of Adaptation genuinely works. Kaufman wisely makes the “Hollywood” ending compelling enough that its deliberate artifice does not call attention to itself until the final scenes. Adaptation works on a first viewing, and not until revisiting the film is it clear just how early Kaufman begins his detour into the realm of Hollywood intrigue. The characters are still convincingly played even as they carry out clichés, and the film retains the humor of earlier scenes. By identifying the third act as contrived, Kaufman is able to get away with his forced ending, even creating some heartfelt moments, most notably between the two brothers. Kaufman mocks Hollywood conventions by inserting all of the movie vices Charlie the character scorns in an earlier scene, all the while showing how these films can actually be rather effective when executed well enough.

Long before the ending, however, Adaptation identifies itself as self-aware, making many playful self-references. The title itself refers to Charlie’s adaptation of Orlean’s book, the theory of evolution (Darwin is referenced several times throughout the film), and the more basic theme of adapting to the changes that occur in everyday life. When Charlie asks his brother how an outlandish script idea could ever make logistical sense, Donald shrugs and replies, “Trick photography,” a device that very scene uses to allow Nicholas Cage to talk to himself. Later, McKee interrupts Charlie mid-voice-over to shout, “God help you if you use voice-over narration in your work! It’s flaccid, sloppy writing.” Even as Kaufman skewers the clichés of Hollywood scripts, he can’t help but make fun of himself too, a strategy that is as modest as it is self-deprecating.

With all the layers Kaufman gives his screenplay, its easy to take for granted the work of director Spike Jonze here. Jonze, who also directed Kaufman’s Being John Malkovich, presents the complexities of Kaufman’s script in a digestible way, moving between Charlie’s scenes and Orlean’s storyline with clever transitions. Jonze seamlessly moves from Florida “Three Years Earlier” to Charlie’s bedroom in the present by turning Orlean’s voice-over into the narration of her book as Charlie reads it. Other small touches, such as a book jacket photo of Orlean that changes poses as Charlie plays out a conversation with it, are part of Jonze’s style and visual inventiveness. Jonze succeeds in not only making Kaufman’s script understandable, but enjoyable as well, a difficult task to be sure.

I couldn’t tell you how much of Adaptation is based in truth, but the true story is rendered irrelevant by the reality of the film. The real-life Kaufman does not have a twin brother, but that didn’t stop Donald Kaufman from getting an Oscar nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay – though perhaps Charlie and Donald are just two halves of the same screenwriter. Did Kaufman really try to adapt Susan Orlean’s The Orchid Thief before finally writing this film? No doubt one could read interviews with Kaufman and Jonze to find out, but what would be the point? In one scene, Charlie reads aloud a book review of The Orchid Thief that explains how since there wasn’t enough story to fill up a book, Orlean adds “that sprawling New Yorker shit” about her hopes, her desires and her own life to fill the pages. It seems impossible to Charlie to adapt something so personal and intimate. What Kaufman does to remain spiritually faithful to the book is replace Orlean’s sprawling reflections on life with his own, and in doing so, he writes a film that sheds insight into a more universal concept. In order to live our lives, we must search for meaning, for purpose. These purposes differ from person to person, but the search itself is shared by all.

- Steve Avigliano, 2/13/10

BEST OF THE DECADE - #2: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

The Lord of the Rings (2001-3): Dir. Peter Jackson. Written by Fran Walsh, Phillipa Boyens and Peter Jackson, with Stephen Sinclair (Two Towers only). Starring: Elijah Wood, Viggo Mortensen, Ian McKellan, Sean Astin, Andy Serkis, Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, Orlando Bloom, John Rhys-Davies, Sean Bean, Ian Holm, Christopher Lee. Rated PG-13 (epic battle scenes, scary monsters). Running time: 558 minutes (theatrical), 683 minutes (Extended Edition DVDs).

I think I’ll always be hesitant to embrace epic films. Maybe it’s because the stories they tell are familiar and predictable. Maybe it’s because I can’t relate to all that lofty talk of honor and pride. Maybe it’s just because they tend to be so damn long. In the hands of some filmmakers, however, these qualities of epic cinema are not flaws or limitations at all. When executed well, the great potential of an epic film becomes evident, even to skeptic such as myself.

Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings represents the peak of that potential. The three films that make up the trilogy, The Fellowship of the Rings, The Two Towers and The Return of the King are impressive in scope and execution, but also hugely entertaining. Every scene of the lengthy trilogy bears the mark of being carefully crafted from the foundations of the screenplay to smallest details added in post-production. Looking at the films again, it’s difficult to think of what I might say about them; their appeal is no secret and their merit is unmistakable. Furthermore, much of my affection for these films stems from a deep nostalgic connection. I remember seeing these films as a middle and high school student. So to write a traditional review of the films seems absurd to me. A trilogy as massive as this deserves a list of its own, so here is my mini-list of my Top 10 Favorite Things About The Lord of the Rings. In it are individual scenes, specific characters and certain technical aspects of the films. No doubt another person could do the same and come up with a very different list. Their list would be as true as mine. For me, as it may also be for you, the best part about The Lord of the Rings is my personal connection to the films.

10) The Battle at Amon Hen (The Uruk-hai forest fight) – The exciting sequence that ends the first film features sweeping camerawork and quick intercutting keep the narrative action clear, something few action films take the time to do. No matter how frantic and action-packed these films get, the editing is always crisp and clear, and this sequence is a prime example of that.

9) Boromir, Faramir and Denethor – The family trio of these two brothers and their fathers is the most emotionally compelling subplot of the films. Sean Bean’s Boromir in the first film is a stirring performance that only gets better when we meet his overbearing father, Denethor (John Noble), in third. Possibly my favorite individual scene in the trilogy is one that intercuts Denethor feasting on his throne as Faramir (David Wenham) charges an overrun Osigiliath on a suicide mission ordered by his father. The Extended Edition of The Two Towers adds a flashback where all three interact and we get to see the whole horrible family dynamic.

8) The Battle for Helm’s Deep – The first major military battle of the trilogy comes in The Two Towers, a dark battle (in both tone and lighting) that shows the improbable victory of the Rohan soldiers against Saruman’s Uruk-hai army. An excellent battle sequence only outdone by…

7) The Battle of the Pelennor Fields – This climactic battle is the action centerpiece of Return of the King. The sequence gradually builds in tension and includes one of the most disturbing moments of the trilogy, when the orc army catapults the decapitated heads of men killed in battle into the city. Add an aerial Nazgul attack, charging oliphaunts and the Witch-king swinging a spiked ball, and you’ve got a spectacular climax to the film’s military action, even if the Army of the Dead’s arrival feels like a dues ex machina.

6) The Shire – The opening twenty minutes of Fellowship introduces us to the idyllic lifestyle of the hobbits through Bilbo’s (Ian Holm) humorous narration and ends with his 111^th birthday bash. Middle Earth has many scenic wonders, but I’d give them all up to kick back with some pipe-weed and ale and relax in the hills of Hobbiton.

5) The Mines of Moria– This extended sequence in Fellowship has a great fight scene against a cave troll and the scariest looking orcs in the trilogy, while Gandalf’s “You shall not pass!” line might be the films’ most iconic moment.

4) A Faithful Script – Adapting the novels are no easy task, but Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens do a remarkable job. Much has been condensed and some things have been added or changed, but the scripts ultimately remain faithful while also making the fantasy novels accessible to a wider audience.

3) Smeagol/Gollum – The best character of the books becomes the best character in the films thanks to Andy Serkis’s committed portrayal. The actor was denied a Best Supporting Actor nomination because of the heavy use of motion-capture animation, but the animation, seamless and expressive it may be, would be nowhere without the voice and physicality of Serkis’s performance. The complexity of the character is brought out in two interesting “dialogue” scenes – one in The Two Towers where a panning camera shows the two sides Smeagol’s split personality, and another in Return of the King where he talks to his reflection. The character is a prime example of every aspect of the film working in unity: a smart script, great acting and fine special effects.

2) Howard Shore’s Musical Score – The motivations of characters in epic films are always a little hazy for me, what with all that lofty talk I mentioned earlier, but Howard Shore’s affecting score gets me to buy into all of that and more. At least a half dozen memorable themes recur throughout the films, and without the score to accompany the adventure, it’s hard to imagine these films being as successful as they were.

1) The Other Three Hobbits – Frodo (Elijah Wood) is the star of the story, but his companions are the ones who make up the emotional heart of the books and films. Merry (Dominic Monaghan) and Pippin (Billy Boyd) keep things light by bringing a Hobbit’s optimism to even the darkest places in Middle Earth, while Sam Gamgee’s (Sean Astin) dedication and loyalty to his friend delivers some of the films’ most emotionally authentic moments.

These are the things I loved most about the films, and they can be experienced time and time again on DVD when you can take the time to watch the films over a series of evenings or in one marathon viewing (I’ve yet to successfully do this). No matter how you approach the films, be you fanboy, film scholar or just a regular moviegoer, it’s hard to deny the power of Peter Jackson’s films. The imagination they capture is like no other. That is, until The Hobbit reaches theaters.

- Steve Avigliano, 2/11/10

BEST OF THE DECADE - #3: No Country For Old Men

No Country For Old Men (2007): Written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy. Starring: Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin. Rated R (strong graphic violence and some language). Running time: 122 minutes.

**NOTE: This review freely discusses the final scenes of the film, so be forewarned of spoilers.

Strange, that after three viewings, I’m still at a loss to identify what exactly No Country For Old Men is. The main storyline featuring Llewelyn Moss’s (Josh Brolin) discovery of $2 million in drug money and killer Anton Chirgurh’s (Javier Bardem) subsequent pursuit of him are the makings of a fine crime thriller. Sheriff Ed Tom Bell’s (Tommy Lee Jones) investigation adds an element of a police procedural to film, but after much of the main action concludes, the film curiously stays with him for an additional 20 minutes. If you ask the Coen Brothers, they’d call the film a comedy, but perhaps it’s more of an absurdist drama, a comment on the randomness of crime and violence. Its lack of a clear identity is one of its mysteries, and in attempting to identity the parts of No Country, one begins to get at its intent.

The film is set near the Texas/Mexico border in 1980, when drug-related violence was at a peak from illegal trades across the border. However, if not for specific time markers, we might think the film is set in a post-apocalyptic world. In one scene, as Moss runs on foot from a group of Mexican drug dealers, a bolt of lightning splits the sky. Another scene sets a gritty standoff in an eerily quiet street that only offers parked cars as cover. Jones’s aged Sheriff Bell explains in his opening monologue, he doesn’t know what time make of this new world’s crime. The darkness and brutality of the violence he’s faced with has no logic or reasoning, and it appears to him that the world around him is becoming just as bleak.

Anton Chigurh presents himself as a product of this environment, and his identity is a mystery in itself. Bell thinks he’s a ghost. Or is he an incarnation of Death? Both theories are refuted in one scene that shows him bandaging a gunshot wound, revealing him to be very much human. Still, Chigurh views himself as more of a force than a man. For him, the murders he commits are not his choice, and he decides people’s fates by a coin toss. “I got here the same way the coin did,” he says. He is simply facilitating our eventual deaths. There is no systematic technique to his killings – he is not a serial killer in this sense – but he does retain a consistent tone and attitude. In several scenes, he speaks calmly to his potential victims, telling one man to “Hold still” and inquiring into another man’s family life. In others, he acts quickly and efficiently, and the Coen Brothers do not cut away from these killings. In this sense, the camera is as unflinching as Chigurh is. If the violence feels gratuitous, Sheriff Bell shares your view.

As the characters move through this bleak world, the pace remains methodical, and there is barely any musical score, with several sequences presnted in near silence. As a result, these scenes take on a chilling, sober air, and we find ourselves drawn to them with an almost animalistic fascination as Llewelyn fights for survival. The dialogue is minimalistic, and though the Coen Brothers claim to have simply opened up Cormac McCarthy’s novel and transcribed the dialogue, the pacing and delivery of it are decidedly Coen-esque. Watch how Javier Bardem takes the time to chew cashews in between lines of the first coin toss scene and raises his eyebrows to emphasize a point just before leaving. Later, a frank exchange between Llewellyn, dressed only a hospital gown, and a salesman elicits a laugh when the man states that, “It’s unusual” for a customer to come in without clothes on. These touches of humor and strangeness seep into the film without ever disturbing the film’s solemnity.

One of the main sources of mystery surrounding the film comes from what at first appears to be an extended epilogue after the main action has ended. The focus is redirected to Bell as he struggles to understand the world he is now a part of, ultimately conceding that he has neither the strength nor the will to actively fight back. A conversation with his uncle, a retired sheriff, convinces him this resignation is for the best; the evil forces in the world are too much for him. The scene that follows presents the film’s only glimmer of hope, a meeting between Llewelyn’s wife, Carla Jean (Kelly Macdonald) and Chigurh, who she finds in her home. When asked to call Chigurh’s coin toss, she refuses, stating that the coin has no say. Her resistance to Chigurh’s game expresses a belief that the world, Chigurh included, does not need to be the way it is. The scene cuts before we see his actions, but he checks the soles of his shoes in the next shot, and we know from a previous scene where he lifts his feet from a spreading pool of blood that he has killed her. The film returns to Bell for the final scene, ending with his recounts of two dreams featuring his father. He explains how his father never saw these times, and perhaps he wishes he hadn’t either. Reinforcing the theme of changing times is the sound of a clock in the background that is heard after the cut to black and into the credits. In the dream, Bell’s father is “going on ahead” to build a fire in the dark, perhaps a sanctuary in the afterlife of some sort, and in time, Bell will be joining him.

No Country For Old Men is a virtually perfectly edited film; nothing unnecessary is said or shown. It showcases the peak of the Coens’ craftsmanship, every shot a beautiful visualization of McCarthy’s bleak world, every character, no matter how minor, a fleshed out individual. It is a film that exists outside strict genre identity, delivering a potent and uncompromising take on a brutal and violent country.

- Steve Avigliano, 2/10/10

BEST OF THE DECADE - #4: The Departed

The Departed (2006): Dir. Martin Scorsese. Written by William Monahan, based on the film Infernal Affairs. Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Martin Sheen, Vera Farmiga, Ray Winstone, Alec Baldwin. Rated R (strong brutal violence, pervasive language, some strong sexual content and drug material). Running time: 151 minutes.

The Departed is the third of three excellent Martin Scorsese films released this decade, each starring Leonardo DiCaprio. Scorsese reasserted his versatility with Gangs of New York and The Aviator, bringing his characteristic energy to a historical drama and biopic, respectively. The Departed has been labeled a “return to form” for the director, returning to the subject of his most acclaimed films: gangsters. While that statement underrates the stellar work he’s been putting out, The Departed is particularly noteworthy for bringing a youthfulness to the world of organized crime Scorsese is so familiar with. In his fourth decade of filmmaking, he hasn’t lost any of his fervor for making kinetic cinema, and The Departed is a rapidly paced, gleefully stylized gangster story.

Frank Costello, played by Jack Nicholson, opens the film with a voiceover that provides some context to organized crime in Boston, run largely by the Irish as opposed to the Italians who dominate Scorsese’s usual New York. The monologue primarily serves as an introduction to the man who looms large over the film: a racist, vulgar, and psychotic mobster played with over-the-top zeal in a way only Nicholson can get away with. The montage then establishes the two main characters, Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon), a recently promoted state trooper and Costello’s inside man in the state police, and Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) an undercover cop who works his way into becoming one of Costello’s main men. Scorsese packs the opening twenty minutes with necessary exposition and subtle characterizations, introducing us to the main players and, ingeniously, two minor characters that play significant roles in the final scenes. Much is explained in a short amount of time, and Scorsese conveys it all in a stylistic blur of montages, flashbacks and crosscutting.

The Departed’s style is largely indebted to editor Thelma Schoonmaker, a frequent collaborator with Scorsese. Monahan’s script flows beautifully onscreen, every scene transitioning seamlessly into the next. No doubt many scenes were cut, but the final product is so polished, it’s difficult to imagine a single shot out of place. The editing also brings out some revealing contrasts by frequently intercutting scenes of Costigan’s terrifying and violent life undercover, with scenes of Costigan enjoying a cushy job and an upper-class lifestyle. The constantly moving camera also brings much energy to the film, panning and zooming to follow the rhythms of the dialogue and to underscore the character dynamics.

The attention to detail in the film elevates it beyond the expectations for the average gangster movie, and Scorsese’s use of sound plays a large part in bringing out these details. The first time we meet Costigan, we understand his intelligence by hearing his quick pencil scratches on his police exam. Another scene uses only the sound of screeching car brakes as a transition between scenes, conveying the immediacy of the moment without wasting the few seconds it would take to have an establishing shot of the car. Throughout the film the two double agents communicate with their superiors via cell phones, and phone vibrations and rings play a major role in creating tension. One of the tensest scenes in the film is comprised of little more than close-ups of Costigan and Sullivan and the sound of a vibrating phone.

As is expected with a Scorsese film, The Departed also features an excellent soundtrack, with nearly every scene in the film accompanied by music. The Rolling Stones “Gimme Shelter,” a favorite of Scorsese’s, appears more than once, as does Dropkick Murphy’s “Shipping Up to Boston,” which becomes something of an anthem for the film. John Lennon’s “Well Well Well” appears moments before Costello humorously misquotes the music legend, and a great live version of “Comfortably Numb” ironically accompanies a scene between Costigan and Madolyn, his pain killer supplier. Howard Shore’s score, performed mostly by Spanish guitars rather than an orchestra, fills in the gaps with a few memorable themes.

Adapted from the Chinese thriller, Infernal Affairs, William Monahan’s script uses dark humor much as Scorsese’s Goodfellas does, providing some unexpected laughs in an otherwise dense crime drama. Much of this humor comes from the banter of Costello’s cronies and the state police, men whose daily exposure to crime have caused them to take a cavalier approach to violence. The script features a slew of vulgar but undeniably funny one-liners, most of which are uttered by Mark Wahlberg in an Oscar-nominated performance. The heart of the film, however, revolves around Sullivan and Costigan, and DiCaprio and Damon express a range of anxieties as the two men lose track of their identities by pretending to be other people. Vera Farmiga makes a complex character out of a supporting role, Dr. Madolyn Madden, a therapist who becomes involved with the two men, and her dialogue with them provides absorbing interludes to the main action.

Watching the film again, The Departed’s complex plot holds up, and its thematic layers continue to reveal themselves after multiple viewings. Scorsese packs every shot with small details, visual jokes and foreshadowing. The result is that of supreme craftsmanship, and one of Scorsese’s most vibrantly entertaining films to date.

BEST OF THE DECADE - #5: There Will Be Blood

There Will Be Blood (2007): Written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, based on the novel, Oil! by Upton Sinclair. Starring: Daniel Day-Lewis and Paul Dano. Rated R (some violence). Running time: 158 min.

**NOTE: This review freely discusses the ending of the film, so be forewarned of spoilers.

“I’m finished,” says Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) in the final line of There Will Be Blood, as he sits in a bowling alley beside a pool of blood from the recently bludgeoned Eli Sunday (Paul Dano). This strangely understated and ambiguous statement has a few layers of meaning. In the most literal sense, he is calling to his butler in the next room to announce that he has finished his meal and his conversation with Eli, who was shown in by the butler a few minutes earlier. In a more figurative sense, the line is more of a declaration of victory, having ended his longstanding rivalry with Eli by murdering him. In yet another sense, Plainview, living in his luxurious mansion, has finished his life’s goals and has lived out the American Dream. He has built a prosperous business from nothing, beat out his competition, made all the money he could want, and now he sits with nothing more to do.

The film is set at the turn of the 20^th century when such dreams of boundless potential were on the minds of so many pioneering Americans out West. California was an open frontier for business prospects, and railroads stretched across the country taking workers and businessmen to burgeoning towns to start their lives fresh. In the film’s first shot of the expansive California landscape, director Paul Thomas Anderson presents us with an idyllic view of a railroad track that extends out to the horizon, a beautiful visualization of the limitless possibilities offered by the open country. The camera rests for a moment with the tracks in the center of the frame, before panning to the right and following Plainview’s car as he drives through one of these developing Western towns. The camera moves down the track until Plainview’s car comes to a stop, centered in the frame. In one fluid shot, Anderson presents us with an image of the American Dream, and makes a visual association with Plainview by also placing him in the center of the frame. Later in the film, Anderson constructs a similar moment, showing an oil pipeline stretching into the horizon before panning over to Plainview and his son, once again centered in the frame.

Daniel Plainview does not simply represent the American Dream in the film; he is consumed by it. He lives for nothing else but to be the best. He despises his competitors in the oil industry and distrusts all who work for him. He refuses to yield to anyone, least of all Eli Sunday, a young preacher who invests in Plainview’s oil rig as a way of funding his church. Plainview answers to no man but himself, and Eli’s attempts to bring God into Plainview’s life only serve to antagonize him. Eli, like every other man on the Western Frontier, wants to capitalize on the opportunity to build something. In his case, he desires to build a church, establish a congregation and have them look up to him for guidance. For Plainview, Eli’s determination represents a threat to his own goals and he refuses to allow the young boy to gain control over his land. As Plainview’s ambitions turn to greed, he becomes obsessive and violent, revealing a madness beneath his businesslike demeanor.

This development in Plainview’s character, however, is hardly a surprise considering the film’s foreboding title. Anderson plays with our expectations by naming his film There Will Be Blood and by using a score by Johnny Greenwood that frequently sounds as if it was lifted from a horror film. Even the opening shots of beautiful Western landscapes become ominous when accompanied by Greenwood’s score. The title itself could be that of a horror film (in fact, Saw II used the phrase in its tagline two years prior). The title also makes reference to America’s history of violence in pursuit of oil, and makes an interesting contrast to the title of Upton Sinclair’s novel, Oil!, from which the film is adapted. Though the actual violence in the film is not as rampant as the title suggests, it becomes all the more shocking in its sparsity, and Anderson’s gradual pacing allows the tension to build and release at unexpected moments.

Much of the film, including its deliberate pacing and musical score, is reminiscent of the late Stanley Kubrick’s style. Anderson has never been shy about admitting his influences, most notably Robert Altman and Martin Scorsese, and has cited Kubrick as an influence on this film. In the opening fifteen minutes, Anderson has the patience to let wide-angle landscape shots establish a setting while scenes free of dialogue introduce the story, not unlike 2001’s “Dawn of Man” opening. The film is also a spiritual cousin to many of Kubrick’s films, sharing their bleak outlook on humanity.

However, Anderson includes enough mystery and strangeness in the film to make it his own. Several elements of the film go largely unexplained, such as the identity of Eli’s twin brother, Paul, who only appears once in the film to sell Plainview information about his family’s land. The two brothers might be separate individuals, but there are enough suspicious moments to suggest that Paul might be an invention of Eli’s to keep a clean conscious about selling his family’s property to an evil man. Other scenes, including Eli’s strange and passionate sermons, and Plainview’s now-infamous milkshake analogy, are as startling as they are funny, but Anderson pulls everything together with complete mastery into a bleak interpretation of America’s most treasured values – family, faith, and entrepreneurship.

Before the final, violent confrontation, Anderson presents us with an establishing shot of Plainview’s bowling alley, two parallel lanes centered in the frame, looking curiously reminiscent of the earlier railroad shot. In place of the horizon, however, is a wall. Plainview has reached the end of that supposedly infinite reach of possibilities, revealing there to be nothing more than death and self-isolation as he sits in the center of the frame once more. He has lived the American Dream from start to bloody finish.

- Steve Avigliano, 2/8/10