great_badir
Posts: 4172
Joined: 6/10/2005 From: A breaking rope bridge in the middle of the jungle
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Overture The following comments belong to great_badir and great_badir only. They are not necessarily correct, nor are you expected to agree with them. They are merely personal opinion and presented here within this forum only for interest. Also, spoilers… People LOVE seeing a large group of otherwise disparate famous actors appearing on screen together. A dream cast of B and C-listers feeds into an audient’s nostalgia and excites the geeky generation-Xers, whilst a who’s-who cast of A-listers is gold for just about everyone on the planet. At the very least, in the worst case scenarios, even if the resulting film is terrible, it remains an interesting curio if it is headed up by people you would normally expect to see in the latest $200million blockbuster or award worthy drama (cf. Movie 43 – which I admit I’ve not yet seen, and nothing I’ve read about it suggests to me that it will be any good, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see it, just for the cast). For some film goers, there is little better example of the film-making medium manifesting itself in the above than the MULTI-PLOT ENSEMBLE film. Although elements of it have existed for years (Robert Altman devoted about twenty years of his career to it on and off, albeit in a very specific Altmanesque fashion) and there are examples of it in all sorts of genres (but usually one of comedy, drama or thriller), it’s only within the last decade or so that the multi-plot ensemble film has become a recognisable and definable sub-genre in its own right, and one that has slotted itself quite fastidiously within a certain frame of “realistic” character based drama dealing with real world ISSUES (so, for this entry, I am completely ignoring Tarantino). These are, effectively, TV series made large (and, heh, shorter). Everything from Z-grade made-for-TV/straight-to-DVD chaff (often starring one-time big stars – usually from the 70s and 80s [think Steve Guttenberg] – or familiar TV faces) right up to A-list Oscar chasers has dipped its toes in the water. Some are bad. Some are okay. Some are good. One or two are excellent. And some…some are downright horrendous. The multi-plot ensemble film, at least the type I’m attempting to comment on in this text, has as its ingredients one, some, or all of the following: A number of big A-list stars (or, at the very least, faces that are familiar to most average film goers, depending on what level of budget and which end of the market we’re talking about) with equal screen time and IMPORTANCE within the film as a whole; Dramatic plots and THEMES which are about ISSUES and which are familiar to and/or (if the film makers are really lucky) have been/can realistically be EXPERIENCED by any person within the audience; Specific character traits EXPLORED and, to some extent, exploited in a sign-posted fashion (usually, but not restricted to, doubt, self worth, self loathing, egotism, prejudice, faith and belief, amongst many others); At least one of the characters must have a secret or previously unexplored trait which is buried very deeply within their conscious, which is not revealed until some way into the film, preferably about three quarters of the way through, or at a key point within the story (this is as distinct from a plot twist) – this secret or character trait can be good or bad; All of the lead characters must get INVOLVED some way and some how with at least one other set of (preferably previously unconnected) characters at some point in the film, and their stories should either COLLIDE in an EXPLOSIVE (narratively speaking, that is) fashion, or be revealed to be part of the same sub-plot. Ideally, all of the lead characters’ individual plots will come together near the end of the film and you will have a figurative De Niro-meets-Pacino moment repeated ten times over; At whichever point the above happens, LESSONS must have been LEARNT by at least two characters, or sets of characters, within the film’s universe. Again, ideally all of the lead characters will have LEARNT, or at least EXPERIENCED, something to change them for the better. This will most often be as the result of some form of HARD HITTING GRIEF, or of a more obvious physical EXPERIENCE. Either way, this should be conveyed by a slow montage which covers all affected characters, accompanied by a maudlin interstitial soundtrack; Perhaps most importantly, there should be no flights of fancy. That is to say that none of the above should happen within a world which is unfamiliar or unrealistic to the audience – so it will not be set in a sci-fi universe, or as part of an action film where ammunition never runs out and rocket launchers can easily be purchased via mail order and are then sent to the purchaser via standard package delivery. These films (at least the A-list Oscar chasers) naturally attract much media attention, be it the sheer talent involved, or controversy over the subject matter, and, as such, spend quite a long time churning through the hype machine before we mere mortals set eyes on them. More often than not, we are aware (/told) about the importance of the film (whichever typical example you would like to use) before we know whether it’s any good or not. But these films must be good, right? Right?? ‘Cos they’re all, like, about real stuff and things, and important subjects an’ that. Right?!?!?! Let’s quickly look at some good to excellent examples of the specific thing I’m talking about, just so you know where I’m casting my critical eye. Steven Soderbergh’s Traffic (which was a remake of a stunning channel 4 series, and which was then itself remade/continued as a mediocre American TV series) utilised the above (sub) genre characteristics in an incredibly expert and subtle fashion, resulting in a rare example of a film every bit as good as its source. Traffic can be taken as my personal top of the tent-pole example. Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu‘s Amores Perros (which can arguably be seen as the first of these BIG and EPIC multi-plot ensemble films, at least as we currently know them and within the specific frame I talked about further above - Magnolia [see below] was too left-field to take the crown), whilst its impact was lessened by the hype that surrounded it on the way to the UK, is nevertheless another shining example and gritty in both style and subject matter – it lacks (in a positive way) the sheen of a Hollywood equivalent. Todd Solondz was the king of the indie end of this market, with his incredibly uncomfortable Happiness, a film which took all of the above and scaled it right down to a quiet and low-key masterclass in general horribleness (this mantle was later taken up in a less than agreeable and more excessive fashion by Paul Thomas Anderson’s I-couldn’t-care-less exercise in pointlessness Magnolia, with Tom Cruise and his cock, and raining frogs being the new equivalent of everyone loving it up whilst staring at a big hole in the earth in Lawrence Kasdan’s Grand Canyon). Stephen Gaghan‘s Syriana, whilst dour, furrow browed and supremely complex (often at average Joe Public’s expense), is nevertheless commendable for tackling a subject most people know only the bare bones of, shuffling many of the above conventions and not ending on a satisfying or clear-cut note, all in only a snitch over two hours. Then there are the okay also-rans, which are watchable, but only the once. Things like Inarritu's Amores Perros’ two US follow-ups, 21 Grams, which really does very little and goes nowhere over its two hours, but features some good performances and the odd interesting story thread, and Babel, one of the most frustrating entries in this sub-genre, where you spend the whole running time hoping that Cate Blanchett survives after the effort you’ve invested watching it. So that’s the kind of thing I’m on about. All of which unnecessary rambling brings me to the first of my two-fer choices - Paul Haggis’ famous, infamous and legendary Crash. Crash is the perfect storm of multi-plot ensemble films – a cast of then big name stars and on-the-rise newcomers, very simple (but MAJOR) themes which are familiar to and have been experienced by everyone, culminating in a finale which ties up everything that has preceded it in a way that is also familiar and could be experienced by everyone. Chief amongst its themes are racism and social class, where things are not often as they seem within otherwise stereotypical archetypes. But Crash’s main problem is that things ARE ALWAYS as they seem and the stereotypical archetypes remain stereotypical archetypes right to the very end – two black males at the lower end of the social ladder complaining about how everyone assumes they are gang-bangers (in the American criminal sense) then spend the film carjacking; a tormented racist cop sexually assaults a black woman and later on saves her life; a meek and put-upon black director eventually has enough and gets enraged when he’s been stereotyped one too many times; a shaven headed tatooed hispanic man turns out to be an honest family-man; a rich upper class politician’s trophy wife is suspicious of every one who doesn’t have pearly-white skin; a Middle Eastern man spends most of his time as a paranoid wacko who ends up believing he’s been saved by one of God’s miracles. And on, and on, and, Jesus Christ, on. Before anyone says it, NO that ISN’T the point. The point of Crash (which, to give it its one credit, does not really ever take sides) was to make the viewer question their own thoughts on the subject and the stereotypes they apply in real life, just as Paul Haggis did when he went through the real-life carjacking by a couple of black youths that inspired the story. But all Crash ends up doing is re-affirming everything it has just shown on screen, which re-affirms Haggis’ thoughts during his carjacking experience, pretty much saying “well, yep – there’s general society represented EXACTLY as it in real life, right there. Yay me”. In the same way that Spike Lee’s Malcolm X largely took a dump over all the good work he did in Do the Right Thing (which is one of THE last words on the whole subject and as important as any film about race made since cinema began, in my opinion), at least in terms of balance (but then I guess that is Malcolm X’s prerogative, even if it isn’t Bobby Brown’s), so Crash glazes over the subject as a whole and presents itself as an IMPORTANT and FACTUAL document to be placed in a time capsule for future generations (with whom, one would hope, colour is not even recognised, let alone be an issue) to mull over, without ever really tackling the subject in a properly thought out and grown up manner. Haggis pulled off a rather neat trick, y’see, by making people think he’d put out something meaty and thoughtful and SERIOUS and worthy of attention and analysis, without ever doing so. The controversial subject matter and individual moments (racist cop assaults black woman, etc) cleverly mask the fact that the film as a whole is bereft of any of that and all we, the viewer, end up thinking about is those specific characters in that specific place and that specific time. I didn’t walk away from Crash overwhelmed with challenging questions like I had the first time I saw Do the Right Thing. Rather, over 2 hours later I was mainly still annoyed about Larenz Tate and Ludacris complaining about applied stereotyping for 5 or 10 minutes, immediately followed by them living up (/down) to that applied stereotyping. Errr, I think you’ve made a little whoopsie there, Paul. Intentional or not, it completely flies in the face of what the film purports to do and patronises the audience to an incredible degree (it actually offended me, and it’s very rare that anything offends me). One of Crash’s other big failings is that it tugs so obviously on the heartstrings, with the cast EMOTING like they can see the Oscar at the end of the credits, that it wouldn’t be too out of place in company with Ron Howard’s textbook 1-2 emotionally charged (read cod sentimental) and sign-posted flicks Cinderella Man (to this day it bewilders me how it achieved 4 stars from Empire, whilst the infinitely more poignant Rocky Balboa was given only 3) and A Beautiful Mind. In that respect, the only thing Crash is missing is sepia tone and soft focus. Even Magnolia (and those of you who know me well enough are already aware of how low an opinion I have of the work of Paul Thomas Anderson, so this is a big statement coming from me) manages some elements of subtlety and pathos in between Tom Cruise’s cock and raining frogs. As a very brief aside, I actually really like the opening sequence of Magnolia and think it’s PTA’s best work by a long stretch. But, basically, Crash smacks of “oh-so-importance” and assumes itself to be a significant work, whilst the subject matter(s) requires something less obvious and more complex than a bunch of hopeless paper thin characterisations which add up to nothing more than a typical rich white man’s view of the fringes of society he probably generally avoids, all applied with very broad brush strokes. Quite why the thing is held in such high regard is one of the intriguing and ongoing mysteries of typical Oscar fodder (although it’s pleasing to note that it is not without its critics, both professional and cinema going, and many of these have been even harsher than me), but maybe it’s because it is so simple minded – it is accessible. An easy access mainstream discourse on racism that pulls every punch going, and the complete opposite of the likes of Do the Right Thing, White Dog, Romper Stomper and, heh, Brother From Another Planet. And that mention of John Sayles’ excellent micro-budget commentary on relations between humans and ALIENS, brings me nicely onto my second choice for this entry – Wayne Kramer’s Crossing Over. So, everything I’ve written above, right?, just replace “racism” with “immigration” and you have matching comments for what is, essentially, exactly the same film. Hell, it's even got the same fucking poster. Well then…
< Message edited by great_badir -- 12/2/2013 11:13:39 PM >
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