The Film Lovers Summer

Summer entertainment has always baffled me. Why does a special season need to come around in order for you to find enjoyment in a particular type of media? How to we figure that because it is hot we want to see nothing but explosions apart from that fire equals heat? When autumn arrives do we suddenly get serious and thoughtful? Books are the worst to be affected by this because the obligatory “summer reading lists” are vague and indefinable as to make them ridiculous outright. I’ve seen the likes of the Twilight books and Jennifer Weiner on these lists as well as The Pale King by David Foster Wallace which is a novel so sprawling and obtuse as there ever could be. Whatever.

A lot of people, from critics, news writers and common movie goers like to make a big deal about the summer movie season. This is in large part, in my opinion, due to nostalgia. We all like to think back to Depression era tales of people congregating in theaters to escape the heat and their miserable lives. In this depression we can no longer do that. Well, we can escape the heat but movies have become so damn expensive that I find myself rarely going at all. I have to escape my miserable life through other means.

Critics like to talk about summer movies but fairly recently it is just to complain about them.With all the sequels, prequels, reboots and the endless superhero movies there is enough fodder to rant from now until then end of the world (Dec. 21, 2012). But I believe that this season has some of the best movies of any summer as well as the best films of the year. This is the film lover’s summer!

I haven’t seen many films this year but there have been two that have gone outright above the call of duty making the season more than worth it. These are Midnight In Paris and The Tree Of Life. I was so impressed with the overall quality of the pair that I know (or hope really, really hard) that Oscar fame will be in the cards.

Midnight In Pairs is the forty-fifth film written and directed by Woody Allen. It tells the story of Gil Pender (Owen Wilson), a self-described “Hollywood hack” who has made it this far by writing run of the mill movie scripts. He is on vacation in Paris with his fiancée (the always ravishing Rachel McAdams) and her parents, his future in-laws (Kurt Fuller and Mimi Kennedy). While there he is trying to find inspiration for the novel that he is writing about a man that runs a nostalgia shop. Gil is head over heels infatuated with Paris because it is Paris where all the great artists lived or visited. Inez, Gil’s fiancée, does not share his view. If Gil is a romantic, Inez is a realist, a Southern-California bred realist. Her distaste for the country is exhibited in nearly every scene she’s in. She thinks that Paris is dirty and she’d rather go shopping than take a stroll through the Parisian streets.

Gil and Inez soon run into Paul (Michael Sheen), a professor that Inez had many years ago. Inez unabashedly confesses that she once had a major crush on him in college. Gil unexpectedly takes an immediate dislike to Paul, calling to him a “Pseudo-intellectual,” which he is, as he makes a show out of knowing fine details but when it comes right down to it, who cares? Gil, Inez, Paul and Paul’s girlfriend (Nina Arianda) go on a tour of Paris where Paul pedantically elaborates ad nauseam about the cultural landscape. At one time he goes as far as correcting a tour guide regarding who was the mistress of Rodan exactly.

Later in the evening, after turning down an invitation to go dancing with the group, Gil takes a much pined for stroll through Paris and finds himself lost and unable to find the hotel where he is staying. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at finding directions, he sits down on a flight of stone stairs in dejection. In the distance a clock is heard striking twelve and suddenly a very vintage car can be seen driving up the road. It stops at the curb, the doors open and a group of very lively Parisians motion for Gil to join them. They take him to an unusual party where men have their hair slicked back with a middle part, women wear flapper dresses and there is a man possessing a striking resemblance to Cole Porter at a piano singing “Let’s Do It.” Gil finds that it’s 20’s night and he didn’t get the memo.

Gil Pender has found himself magically transported to Paris in the 1920s, a time that he romanticizes deeply. For good reason too, he meets F. Scott Fitzgerald as well as his wife Zelda; he strikes a friendship with Ernest Hemmingway and even convinces Gertrude Stein to review a draft of his novel. But most of all he falls in love, and not just with the city. The elusive Adriana (Marion Cotillard) shares Gil’s passion for the arts and she also shows interest in him. Night after night he returns to be enriched and inspired by these people but Gil soon has to learn what it means to love and be content with the time that you’re already in.

The magic of the movie can be felt far beyond the borders of the screen. When I saw the film the pleasure in the room was extraordinarily tangible between all the viewers in the audience because we all were having such a great time watching it. This movie is unbelievably funny and moreover it’s humor that works on several layers. Good comedy is accessible to most but rewards the few with obscure nuggets and tiny, nearly imperceptible moments. Midnight In Paris elevates but in a refreshing way. Taking cues from today’s style where pop culture references fall like rain, Pairs works differently in that its references are academically arcane.What’s great is that the jokes are left moist enough to make you want to know more.

Woody Allen gets a bad rap at times mainly for his stock myopic characterizations. Given his time in the industry, I feel that he has nothing to prove and I think he knows it as well. By and large he does what he wants to do and can craft a fine story out of whatever source material on hand. Recent films like Match Point and Vicki Christina Barcelona make it seem like Allen expanding his element is such a natural progression of habit. Still it’s fabulous when we get to witness a project where all the pieces come together perfectly, where there is so much artistic flexing all at once.

A week later I was at the same theater burning with anticipation for a totally different film which was different indeed. Devoid of humor or quick wit of the former, Terrence Malick’s The Tree Of Life decides instead to make bold strokes into the human psyche, divorcing itself from what many expect a film to be. The term “film” should be thought of in its base definition only. Treestrays from the standard as any viewer can expect. The story is loose, dialog is largely absent and it tangents into a cosmos-spawning light show. What do we get for the trade? Something so beautiful it’s difficult to describe.

You may have heard about The Tree Of Life recently. Mainly, I’m guessing, it was from people saying how you will either love it or hate it-there is no in between. I don’t necessarily believe that this is true. I think it’s more along the lines that there are people that understand it and those that don’t. You might have come across critics, and these are professional movie critics, that say how much they hate it. I must say this, and I apologize if this offends but all of you are dreadful at watching movies. How can you damn such an exquisite piece of art without even remarking slightly on the message it conveys? It’s not nearly a difficult movie to contemplate either. Its minimalism provides a stark philosophic canvas for ideas to flourish. It has a richness but in the case of being provocative it expects you to meet it half way.

What disappoints me the most is that these people are paid to think about movies critically and here comes a film perfectly suited to be critically thought of and it’s canned by the likes of people that should sing its praises. Jesus, you know, was killed by the people that he was born to save. I am exaggerating if only slightly. The Tree Of Life does have a very high rating among most critics and I would place a guess that even most audience members can at least tolerate it enough. I will repeat that it has less to do with how much of it is liked but how much is understood that will dictate the viewer’s opinion of the movie. This is only natural; that is why people hate math. However, when you dedicate yourself to understanding a subject, its motives and dynamics, a love of that subject grows. This is how people say they like Pop Art.

The story is largely about a rural Texas family in the 50’s where innocence still abounds and DDT showers are the norm. We are introduced to the mother (Jessica Chastain) when a postman comes to the door and solemnly delivers a letter. Her back is turned to us as she opens the parcel and because of this we cannot be full witness to the grief that erupts forth. The scene is cut to the wash of noise from airplane propellers. The Father (Brad Pitt) is on the phone. His words are all but inaudible but we know the sentiment as his eyes grow soft and his mouth turns down. Their son is dead. The following scenes show the two of them endure the pain of losing a child. Friends do their best to console the couple no matter how ungraceful it might be. “At least you have the other two” says one of the neighbors. We can see the disgust teeming in the eyes of the Mother.These are the O’Brian’s and this is our introduction to their family.

The remainder of the film traces their story across time, going from the past to the future and back again. We see grief traverse the decades as Jack, now a grown man (Sean Penn) is still struggling with the loss of his brother. We also see the birth of the cosmos, life emerge, evolve and struggle. The world is shown in all its complexity. Smoke and fire come from the earth as if struck and forged of a blacksmith. Nature, in its entire splendor is exhibited from the churn of the ocean, the directionlessness of salt flats, the sculpture of rock formations. Life begins and life ends, such is life.

The focus narrows on Jack as a young boy (Hunter McCracken) and his relationship between his domineering father and nurturing mother. He is torn knowing that he can’t find solace in both of his parents because of their dark contrast upon one another. When he or his brothers are alone with their mother we see them enjoy a full joy not expressed with Mr. O’Brian. When Jack is around his father his face is full of conflict. When asked, “Do you love your father?” he answers yes, and we believe him. But there is fear in his answer because Mr. O’Brian is heinously abusive. Which channeling Tyler Durden he commands his son to hit him while teaching him to fight. “Hit me, hit me!” he screams as he forces his fist but storms off in disappointment when Jack fails to comply. Later when one of his brothers openly defies the father, he explodes in a rush of anger sending food from the spoiled dinner like rocks expelled from a volcano.

No matter how much Jack shows his hatred for his father, he confesses the sad truth to him, “I’m more like you than her.” He’s physical and impulsive, we see him carelessly make bad decisions and he thoughtlessly hurts his brothers. Despite this connection, a distance still remains. His father’s greatest love, music, is not shared by Jack. Is this a rejection of the father’s values? We see Jack aiding his father by turning the sheet music while playing the organ. We also see, when Jack is by himself, clumsily manipulating a vinyl record. The music warbles and slows in odd patterns as Jack presses his hand to the disk. When his brother is playing the guitar, Jack paces in the yard as he glances toward the house, as if he is outside the family.

The style and presentation is the largest departure from traditional story-telling in The Tree Of Life. The script’s dialog is anemically thin, not in content but in amount. The story is told through a series of brief narrations by either Jack or Mrs. O’Brian. When there is no dialog it is conveyed by some of the most dynamic acting that I’ve seen in years. Nothing suffers from the lack of speech in Tree. When we see Jack walk down the street and he looks off toward the distance we know exactly what he is thinking, we don’t need him to say anything. His youngest brother (Laramine Eppler) is just as spectacular. The expressions that he shows toward Jack are achingly powerful. This movie is a perfect example of how one more brush stroke in a painting would ruin it.

I would like to take the time to sympathize with those that didn’t enjoy this. It is a difficult movie to watch, between its 139 minute runtime, a lack of dialog and a storyline that is spliced together in an off order. That is not the only hurtle that a viewer must cross. The film has a tendency to show scenes in quick succession for long periods of time. The cuts become almost mechanical as scenes change again and again and again. We are never allowed to focus on one moment for very long. This relentless nature takes a toll on the attention span as we become awash in sensory information.

Simply letting all of this wash over you will make for a more pleasant viewing experience.Attempting to hang on and understand each and every frame we’re presented with will bring fatigue and nothing will kill a good experience faster than this. The key to understanding The Tree Of Life is not to ascribe meaning to each and every detail, at least not at first. Like a sponge, absorb all you can and release the rest. Let the visuals rush over your consciousness until a meaning revels itself. This film has a personal significance to me and I would hope that would be different from someone else’s. I understand that this will be very difficult for some but I can honestly say that for those that persist, this film will reward like none other.

I realize that in quantity of great films, this summer hasn’t been spectacularly remarkable. It has been really good, but mainly at showing us that Christopher Nolan is not the only one that can direct relevant superhero movies. Though a summer where two films rose above and exhibited such mastery should be noted. We’ve reached the end of the season but not without one last shining example, The Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Frieda Pinto (Slumdog Millionaire) was on the Today show promoting the movie several weeks ago. I remember that she stated that this was a “thinking man’s summer movie” and it was. It came out of left field to offer something that was totally unexpected: a movie that made you think.

I love a fiery, testosterone-fueled slamfest like the next guy but all I’m asking is that we have some variety in our cinema. I understand that the reasoning behind holding back all the really good films till fall and winter is so that they won’t be forgotten during Oscar time at the top of the year. This is why I could hardly find the Gorillaz Plastic Beach on any “Best Of” lists in 2010 (released in March). When expectations are mixed up the ability to be surprised is introduced.We’ve come to expect too much of what summer movies are and too little on what they can be.Super hero movies, yes; Michael Bay blowing up…something, yes as well; a movie that totally makes you re-think you’re perception of God, definitely not. Think about it, when you see a movie that happens to be totally different than what you were expecting while still being good, doesn’t that make it awesomely classic? The simple fact of it is that not all of us want explosions on screen; sometimes we want them in our head. We want our mind’s to be blown.