Francois Truffaut’s The
400 Blows is one of the most important films of the French New Wave and one
of the most intensely moving coming of age stories ever to be put on screen.
The director’s first film, made before his 27th birthday, the movie
is an exemplar of Truffaut’s best qualities as a filmmaker: his clarity,
honesty, directness, his simplicity and deep feeling. A semiautobiographical movie,
The 400 Blows follows the 12 year old
Antoine Dionel (Jean-Pierre Leaud,
who would reprise the role another four
times), typecast by his mostly absent parents and socially incompetent
teachers as a troublemaker and a liar, and lets us share in his minor joys and
sorrows. The film’s personal nature is made obvious even before the opening
credits, when we find out the film is dedicated to influential critic of Cahiers
du Cinema and Truffaut’s mentor, Andre Bazin. The sense of intimacy
and immediacy continues through the first few shots of the movie, long fluid
takes of the middle-class quarters of the city in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.
This is a Parisian’s Paris,
seen in traveling shots of the empty streets and buildings and low angle shots directly
under the tower, not the postcard cityscape establishing shots.
Intro
I love movies. I have loved movies all my life. I grew up on them. When I was eight years old, I managed to convince myself I would make movies when I grew up. Now I am in the process of getting a degree in Film Studies. I write about film more than ever before, partly because I have to for my classes, mostly because I enjoy it, because I have something to write about. Sometimes it helps me understand the film better; sometimes it helps me understand myself better.I created this blog as a place to showcase my work, and also as an incentive to keep writing reviews, analyses, and essays over breaks, when there’s no one here to grade me.I have tried many times, and failed, to explain in a coherent manner why it is that I love films. Here is my best—and most coherent—guess.
Showing posts with label Coming-of-age. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Coming-of-age. Show all posts
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Saving Mr. Banks (2013)
Richly rendered, intoxicating and ingenious, Saving Mr. Banks is at times no less fantastical than stories about
governesses who can fly. Director John Lee Hancock of The Blind Side fame, writers Kelly Marcel and Sue Smith, and the
superb ensemble of seasoned actors create a
riveting backstage account of artistic collaboration, a clash of Hollywood titans
marbled with moments of high comedy. The Walt-worthy giddiness, depth of
feeling, and the stunning performances elevate the story above its premise as
an unapologetically retro valentine to the studio that is the most literal
Hollywood dream factory.
Thick with affection and old-fashioned showmanship, the movie is a Disney
fairytale based on fact, namely the making of Mary Poppins, the much beloved 1964 musical fantasy that put Walt
and his boys on the map as serious creators of live action family entertainment.
There are knowing winks to Disney’s flying nanny, but Saving Mr. Banks is accessible and enjoyable to even those entirely
innocent to the original film—if such people exist.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
After Earth (2013)
This father-son sci-fi wilderness adventure starring real-life father
and son Will and Jaden Smith is nothing more than an overlong and overly
sadistic obstacle course, both for its main character and the viewer. As the
teenager hero of After Earth makes
his way though dangerous territory, leaping from safe spot to safe spot, the
movie leaps from lazy cliché to lazy cliché and listless life lesson to
listless life lesson beat by predictable beat.
In the film’s exposition-heavy prologue we find out humankind now wears
a lot of white unitards and moved to distant Nova Prime a thousand years ago
because of Earth’s manmade downfall, elucidated through a stock montage of
floods, fires, riots and explosions. The natives of our new home planet,
none the happiest to be colonized however, have engineered super alien beasts known as Ursas—they are not
bearlike, in case you were wondering—that are almost blind, but can track,
hunt, and kill by smelling human pheromones—“they literally smell fear,” the
voiceover helpfully explains. What I’ve just described—and so, so, so much
more—could have easily been expanded into a full-length feature. Director M.
Night Shyamalan squeezes it into about five minutes, and packs everything full
of superficial details, justifications, and rationalizations that are both
unnecessary and unimpressive.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Mud (2013)
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it,” Norman Maclean writes in the last lines of his autobiographical meditation on family, faith, and fly fishing, A River Runs Through It: “The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.” I couldn’t help but think of these words as I watched Jeff Nichol’s Mud, a down in the delta coming of age story that takes place in the wide mythic space where the Mississippi opens up and the horizon stretches boldly to infinity, expanding to encompass the whole world. On that threshold, reality and illusion, the past and the future, the sky and the river become one, and all things merge, pregnant with promise and hope.
But
the unstill Southern waters Nichols wades in are as murky and dangerous as the
past of the movie’s title character, a tattooed, broken-toothed bayou noir hero
who cares about honor and justice more than he’d like to admit. With a graceful,
unhurried rhythm and a rustic regional temperament, the movie reaches the patience
and picturesque pastoral sights of a Terrence Malick film. Unlike Malick, however,
the director of Mud places his
characters firmly within their setting but also above it, offering subtleties
and surprises in the way of suspense, humor, and a climax that would put many
an action film to shame.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Definitely "Better Than Nothing": Debra Granik's Winter's Bone (2010)
An
icy chill runs through Debra Granik’s raw, riveting Winter’s Bone, released in 2010. The film offers a tough,
unflinching look at an impoverished Missouri community steeped in an insidious,
feral, gender-segregated culture of illegal drug trade. Inflexible notions of
obligation, honor, and shame, rigid
obedience, and barely sublimated violence rule these rural hills and hollows. Granik
creates an atmosphere of suspicion, foreboding, and everyday misery, turning Winter’s Bone into a stark, forceful,
breathless thriller. Her movie is a realistic, gritty documentary portrait of a
time and a place, a crime family melodrama, a Gothic Southern tale, a country
noir, an ancient odyssey, and, most importantly of all, a powerful and poignant
coming of age story of a young girl forced to mature into a strong,
self-reliant, proud young woman. Ree Dolly (a nineteen year old Jennifer
Lawrence in what is perhaps her greatest performance), provides the fierce,
still center of the film, an ordinary, plain-spoken girl who becomes
extraordinary through her unwavering resilience in the face of seemingly
insurmountable physical and emotional obstacles. Like a modern-day Antigone,
she depends on a dogged, unshakable faith that people will do the right thing,
her stubborn sense of justice coming into sharp and dangerous conflict with the
deep, intractable customs of the Ozarks.***This is an in-depth analysis of Winter's Bone, and therefore contains spoilers.
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