Just finished watching Vantage Point. This film uses, sort of, the Rashomon gag of showing the same events over and over from different perspectives. (Eight, as the film boasts, though they start to get mushed at the end.) Unlike Rashomon, however, you don’t get the “unreliable narrator” effect. Instead, you get a trickling out of information from each perspective.

It’s not bad.

The start is a little slow, because the first perspective is a little slow and the new information trickles out slowly in the subsequent perspectives. As the perspectives begin to converge more and the plot is revealed, the movie picks up the pace a lot.

Unfortunately, it also gets a little silly. The problem with all caper movies (where the caper-ers are not the good guys) is that they rely on the criminal masterminds making mistakes or worse, acting out of character. In this case, the impressiveness of the stunt is glaringly undermined by the subsequent stupid mistakes and a climactic out-of-character moment. On top of that, the basically realistic vibe is broken as Dennis Quaid becomes practically superheroic at the end.

As you may know, I’m a big fan of concise moviemaking. (I’m not a short movie snob per se but if you’re going to indulge yourself at my expense, you’d better be good at it.) So I have to give this film its props for bringing in the whole eight-viewpoint thing in under 90 minutes.

A good cast, good suspence and pacing, so set your mind off and have a good time.

There must be a bunch of critics who just sit around sharpening their knives waiting for historical movies to come out so they can savage them for not being comprehensive or presenting their preferred angle on history.

Case in point, Defiance. This is the story of Belorussian Jews who flee into the forest because the Nazis have invaded with the intent of rounding them up and hauling them off to the “work” camps. Through hard-work, tough choices and persistence, they manage to survive for a time even despite the brutal winter.

That’s really the story in a nutshell, and it’s based on the real-life story of the Bielski brothers.

But check it, New York Times reviewer A.O. Scott says the message of the movie is “if only more of the Jews living in Nazi-occupied Europe had been as tough as the Bielskis, more would have survived”.

Well, first of all, that’s a bit of a stretch. It’s hard to imagine a more insulated story about the Jews in WWII. These aren’t German Jews or Italian Jews, but Polish/Belarus Jews, and their experience of the war is particularly idiosyncratic.

On the other hand, isn’t it true, to the extent that it can be applied? If more Jews had been as tough–and had a wilderness to escape to–wouldn’t more of them have survived? Do we have to take the stance that, as harsh as the Nazi regime was, all the Jews did everything they could?

That sort of simplistic analysis is rebutted by this film, in fact, as one of the big problems they have in freeing the Jews from the ghetto is that the Jews still believe that the Germans are sending them to “work camps”. In fact, that they won’t be killed because they’re useful as slave labor.

Anyway. Sometimes I see a review and just think, “What the hell movie was he watching?”

So. About this film, which The Boy pronounces “excellent”.

This is a manly film. Daniel Craig and Liv Schreiber are the brothers who end up taking on more and more “civilians” and trying to figure out how to feed them in the woods. (I couldn’t figure out why they weren’t hunting animals.) Craig wants to take on the civilians and concentrate on surviving while Schreiber wants to join up with the Red Army partisans.

This leads to some tension between our manly men.

Director Zwick (Blood Diamond, The Last Samuri) is remarkably non-judgmental in his direction. There are things in this movie that might be called murder, but there’s no attempt to make you feel one way or the other about them.

There’s a scene, for example, when the Jews get a hold of a nazi soldier and want to kill him. And, really, it’s hard to fault them for it. I mean, if we’re supposed to be appalled at the savagery of human nature, or something, it doesn’t come off. There’s a revenge scene and a command-struggle scene as well, and there’s even a debate about what to do with a baby being born.

But while the emotions are there, they’re not forefront. At the forefront is survival, and the question of what makes us decent human beings versus what we have to do to survive.

Note that while this is a manly-man film, the women are enlisted into the fighting and are eager to defend themselves and provide for their families. In fact, the manly-men have to adjust to them doing so. But you can see the echos of Israel in these scenes of women fighting.

So, we have strong characters, good pacing, some historical authenticity, rejection of victimhood (at least to the extent possible under the circumstances), dramatic tension…and Nazis! But no Oscar noms here. (We’ll leave that to the naked girl Nazis.)

Flaws? Well, the accents seem to come and go (particularly Daniel Craig’s). The last scene struck me as somewhat preposterous, if dramatically necessary for a satisfying ending. And I thought some of the scene juxtapositions (marriage vs. battle) were needlessly affected. But overall a solid flick, and not at all ooky.

Which may be why the Academy and critics didn’t like it.

You just knew John Lasseter taking over Disney’s animation studios would be a good thing. In the Eisner years, the “gimme” product, where some Disney property was used in some shoddy direct-to-video format because they knew it would sell X units, was reminiscent of those ‘70s live action films the studio went to after deciding animation was too expensive. Even the A-list material had begun to decline after the death of Howard Ashman (The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and the good half of Aladdin).

Although I thought I detected some of his influence on the earlier film Meet The Robinsons, this seemed unlikely to be very direct, since he had just taken over the studio. But it is very obvious in Bolt. The lead character is a dog in a TV show who, for dubious reasons (earnestly explained by the TV show’s director, voiced by “Inside the Actor’s Studio” host James Lipton) requires Bolt to be convinced that he’s a superdog really rescuing his person (Penny, played by Miley Cyrus).

Bolt, then is much like Buzz Lightyear, Lasster’s Toy Story hero, or becomes much like him when a mishap has him mailed across the country and forced to find a way home to rescue Penny (who isn’t really in trouble). His companions on the journey are Mittens, the cynical New York cat, and Rhino, the couch potato hamster. The former doesn’t get Bolt’s delusion until the latter–a Bolt true believer–explains that he knows Bolt from “the magic box”.

John Travolta, Susie Essman and Mark Walton are the dog, the cat and the hamster respectively, with longtime Disney animator Walton being far and away the funniest voice. Essman (“Curb Your Enthusiasm”) takes enough of the nasal twang out her voice to be palatable as the tough-but-vulnerable cat. Travolta is, if not distinguished, exceedingly pleasant as a dog learning how to be just a dog.

There’s no edge to this movie which, as you may know, I approve of. I don’t really want kid’s films to be “edgy”. There is the usual message of what you believe being an empowering factor but it’s ultimately an appreciation of his mundane abilities that allows Bolt to save the day.

The animation is quite good, as you’d expect. There’s a very nice transformation with Bolt, who both captures a lot of expressions and mannerisms of Travolta, as he becomes more “doggy”. And the common problem of the CGI character seeming lack mass is avoided.

The Flower liked it, of course, but The Boy also approved. Also, my mom loved it. So, there’s a broad range of appeal, even if this isn’t a great movie.

We didn’t do the 3D. My brain doesn’t do 3D.

I like David Fincher. Not as a person. I mean, he could be perfectly fine as a person, even if there are rumors that he’s a jerk. (It’s not like those rumors don’t fly around for just about every great director.) But I don’t even know the guy. Cut me a break. How the hell should I know?

But I digress.

I mean to say, I like his direction. As a streak, Se7en, The Game, Fight Club, Panic Room and (arguably) Zodiac is up there with the best directors of all time. (I think Panic Room is under-rated.)

Maybe the best thing you could say about this movie is that it doesn’t seem like it’s two hours and forty-five minutes long. That’s a pretty good thing to say about a movie (unless it’s 90 minutes long, I guess).

It’s basically an episodic story about a man who is, sort of, growing younger, and the problems this causes in his life. It doesn’t really work, in a mechanical sense, but it’s okay dramatically.

Mechanically it doesn’t work because it’s clear from the start that he just looks old. Physically, he’s supposed to be afflicted with all these old-age conditions at birth–yet he goes through puberty after about 12 years of being born. The aging is sporadic, as well, the movie settles him in to middle-age to soon and keeps him there too long. (One plot point revolves around him getting “too young” but he looks about 40.) In his youth, he becomes afflicted with dementia, meaning that he ends up having old-age problems both coming and going.

And he’s not living backward in time, a la Merlin, either. So he’s completely inexperienced while looking 70 but has a lifetime of experience while looking 20.

Dramatically, it mostly works, except where the murky mechanics raise questions, and a sort of “well, what’s the point, then?” feel. That is, how is this story significantly different from someone aging normally? It really only provides one major plot point that comes when Benjamin and Daisy finally get together.

Well, and it does provide the gut-punch at the movie’s end. (Think about it.)

Lord knows I don’t need–or even want–a message movie, but this movie does sort of play around with it. There is a message here that Benjamin understands and Daisy only “gets” when it’s practically too late: That there is worth in loving others and being loved, and that worth transcends worldly things and–in good people–selfish interests.

Yeah, it’s not exactly rocket science, but it works for me.

Your mileage may vary. (What do you think? Good catch-phrase or no?)

Sure, Nazis are bad. But is it okay to sleep with them if they’re really hot?

That’s the challenging question the new Stephen Daldry (Billy Elliot, The Hours) Oscar-baiting movie asks.

The answer appears to be a qualified “yes”.

I’m being flip about the totally super-serial movie The Reader wherein a 15-year-old boy ends up involved with the stoic 37-year-old Hanna Scmitz (Kate Winslet) who teaches him ze ways of love.

This just in: Kate Winslet looks good naked.

But that’s not really important when you’re dealing with, you know, deep thoughts.

You might not even notice that the film is produced by ZOMBIES! OK, no one’s seen Anthony Minghella and Sydney Pollack emerge from their graves, but no one’s not seen them, either.

OK, ok. I’ll try to calm down a bit.

Wait, why isn’t this child porn? I thought it was against the law to have sex scenes involving minors or anyone pretending to be a minor or a drawing of a putative or even fictional minor.

Let me try this again: This movie is about Michael Berg, played half by Ralph Fiennes and half by David Kross. Fiennes played the top half.

And David Kross was a lot funnier on “Mr. Show”.

I guess I don’t have much to say about this movie. It’s good, and all, for some definition of “good”. Good acting, and plenty of it, of course. (Besides Winslet and Fiennes, there’s also Lena Olin and Bruno “Hitler” Ganz.) Good cinematography. It moves pretty quickly, though some seem to think the first half (with all the sex in it) is slow, it sets up the 2nd and 3rd act, wherein Berg’s life is ruined by the events in the first act.

I think this movie works as a character study of a boy who was too young to have an affair with an older woman and whose life is basically ruined by the affair for one reason or another.

I think it’s supposed to be about the difficulties of the Nazi generation and the next generation in reconciling those actions. (Turns out war sucks and genocide has repercussions. Huh. Who knew?) There isn’t a lot of empathy for the Nazis, which is good, I guess (see first sentence) but the forms this lack of empathy takes–show trials, expressions of desire to basically kill one’s parents (which oh-so-coincidentally takes place in the ‘60s, when lots of non-Nazis were talking about the same thing).

If it is, it partially misses there, because Michael is all messed up before he finds out Hanna is a Nazi, and then after he finds out she’s a Nazi, he takes ten years or so but finally decides to send her books-on-tape. Also, he’s almost completely non-functional as a human being, so he’s obviously punishing himself, too.

So, he he doesn’t forgive her, exactly, but he doesn’t break it off exactly, either.

Dunno. I guess it’s a reasonably murky topic so presenting a clear resolution would probably seem too pat. At the same time, it’s so freakin’ morose, I sort of have this counter-urge to laugh at the whole thing.

Your mileage may very. After all, it’s no laughing matter.

Update: Be sure to check this out as well.

Many have already noted that Clint Eastwood, at 78, dominates the screen in every way in his new movie Gran Torino. Some of this has gone out as criticism of the younger actors, but I think that’s misplaced. They are callow and naive, and whether it’s bad acting or not, it works perfectly in the context of the movie.

And this is legendary stuff, with Eastwood no less a mysterious, alien figure than an Ent from Lord of the Rings. This is kind of rare: Power Fantasies are common enough, but how often do we see a senior citizen power fantasy? (2-3 times a decade, max.)

It’s also really, really corny. Has anyone mentioned that yet?

Get over, for a minute, that Eastwood’s playing the “gunslinger with a past”, only instead of blowing into town, the town has blown up around him. He’s killed people (55 years ago) and he’s a lousy father and his wife–the one person in the world who understood and loved him–has just died.

Beyond all that, he’s still the archetypal “crusty but benign” oldster who takes the youngster under his wing and teaches him about the world.

Corny as hell. But it works, even down to gravel-voiced Eastwood singing the first verses of the closing song.

That’s right. You heard me: Singing.

And I think it works because, like Kwai Chang Caine and the Incredible Hulk, Walt Kowalski hates violence–but he’s not afraid of it. Well, “hate” is a strong word. Let’s just say he doesn’t like killing people. Roughing them up can be part of a healthy parenting philosophy.

It also works because there’s a disturbing truth there: Urban centers are an awful lot like Old West towns where gangs have the population in fear because nobody is willing to fight to defend themselves–well, nobody not in a gang, anyway.

Mostly it works because Eastwood glowers, growls and snarls his way through, while wearing his pants too high and having a strange little old-man paunch and wobbling when he walks–except when it’s time to hold the rifle steady.

There’s also some good story building there. It’s hard to imagine my pool-sharping, sharp-dressing, beer-selling (and swilling), WWII-fighting grandfather having much in common with me or my dad.

So we understand when Kowalski doesn’t “get” his sons and views them as disappointments. They are hugely spoiled, by his standards, and his grand-kids even worse. When he has a revelation that he shares more in common with the Hmong than his own descendents, it works.

And it works without trying to cover up Kowalski’s sins–his failure to reach his sons being his worst.

So, yeah. It works. Well. And it’s a successful vehicle for a 78-year-old 4-decade strong movie star. The Boy heartily approved.

Now, I make a point of avoiding message movies. Milk, for example, is not on my list. But Eastwood is definitely working at more than one level; does he make message movies?

I tend to say no. For example, I think it’s a real mistake to look at Million Dollar Baby as being pro-euthanasia. The situation addressed in that film was unique. It would make no sense to apply it generally.

This situation addresses something more generic, I think: That we’ve lost an important set of values, that we’re spoiled, and that immigrants represent a lot of those old values–but not all the truly great American ones.

But, you know, that’s all very cliché–and very corny–stuff. It’s something you could see John Wayne doing. Hell, it’s something Wayne probably did in one of his later movies.

What’s nice, though, is that it still works. Is anyone in Hollywood paying attention?

I am, for the most part, not inclined to look at movies through a particular political filter.

Let’s say, for example, there’s a movie about an evil Republican. Well, doubtless such a creature does (or could exist), and I’m disinclined to view a movie about said creature as an indictment of all Republicans.

Even if it’s meant that way.

My justification for such ignorance is Shakespeares Richard the III. Ol’ Bill knew what side his bread was buttered on. He wasn’t going to make a Yorkie a good guy while there was a Tudor on the throne.

Still, it’s a great play. And that’s what matters in the long run.

Bush-related stuff of the past decade is an exception for two reasons: The drumbeat was constant, and impossible to ignore; but more importantly, art was sacrificed at the altar of Making A Point.

I mention this because many people went to Doubt with–or avoided it based on–some pretty heavy prejudices. And that’s unfortunate, because this is a pretty solid little movie.

There is a lot of acting in this movie. (Not necessarily a bad thing: 12 Angry Men has more acting per foot of film than any other movie I can think of.) You have Meryl Streep doing an accent that reminds me of an old Jewish lady, Philip Seymour Hoffman as the charming priest and Amy Adams as the wide-eyed naive girl.

And, as you might imagine, they’re all quite good. I’ve not always been a big Streep fan–I like her much better now than during her more acclaimed youth. She’s convincing as the feared Mother Superior, but not monochromatic even given the narrow palette she has to work in. Hoffman has a rather challenging role, too. (I’m not sure how much doubt we’re supposed to have that he’s a pedophile; clearly he’s “good” with children, and that takes on creepy dimensions.)

The delightful Amy Adams–last seen on this blog in Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day–shows that she is just as comfortable as a naive, unworldly nun as she was a vibrantly sexual flibberdigibbit. She, in a lot of ways perhaps surprising, best reflects the audience: She’s enchanted by Flynn’s (Hoffman) modern ways and disapproving of Sister Aloysius’s (Streep) draconian ways.

And yet she learns. Quite apart from Flynn, she learns that there is a reason for the stern-ness, and there are consequences for abandoning it. Viola Davis (“Law & Order: Special Victim’s Unit”) has a brief but powerful role as a woman who is willing to sacrifice her son to help him succeed. (That’s as convoluted as it sounds.)

In fact, you could easily see this movie as a struggle between conservatism and liberalism and, perhaps surpisingly, conservatism comes out way ahead. I think that’s probably an unsubtle and incomplete take-away, but the most sympathetic character in the movie is the ballpoint/transistor radio hating Streep.

And it’s impossible to not see this 1964 school, even with its slow integration of blacks, as superior to modern ones. Sister Aloysius, as school principle, knows all the types of students there are: good ones, bad ones, fidgety ones, troublemakers, etc. She knows which girls are going to get into trouble. She’s a terror, yes, but because she’s a terror, a naif like Sister James (Adams) can control her classroom while still being sweet and gentle.

Sister Aloysius’s matter-of-fact-ness–her complete lack of doubt, in fact–is what powers everything. The students get an education because she makes it her business to see that they do, to the limits of her ability, and regardless of any of the sticky, mushy, ultimately obstructive dramas the world wants her to care about.

It’s that same shark-like focus that removes any doubt as to Father Flynn’s ultimate fate, too.

Indeed, Flynn’s guilt is never spelled out, but as Sister Shark swims for him, the inability to stare her down, unflinching–his continual shifting of tactics, from denial to eliciting sympathy to what might even be considered blaspheming, is what makes him so obviously guilty.

It’s ultimately this dynamic–the implacable Streep versus the shifty Hoffman, the pollyannish Adams, the horribly oppressed Davis–that powers the movie. Indeed, like the aforementioned 12 Angry Men, Streep is juror #8, if Fonda’s character had Lee Cobb’s fierceness and E.G. Marshall’s intellect to go along with his sense of justice.

The Boy liked it. And this is ancient history, really. The world isn’t one that he has any familiarity with.

Althouse has some thoughts up about it. I confess I didn’t notice the mucous. Does that make me unobservant? She’s right about the religion being mostly absent, though there is a bit with Flynn praying and the altar boy ringing the bells behind him that was decidedly religious.

The issue of pedophilic titillation I can’t really address. Going out on a limb here, as a non-pedophile myself, I’m not sure how it works. Is a movie about a priest among boys the equivalent of Some Like It Hot? Titillating because it’s a fantasy, even though nothing suggestive is shown? If so, I’m not sure how the subject can be addressed at all without falling afoul of the implications.

There’s also talk over there of the lack of subtlety in certain places, such as using the weather (windy, wintry) to hammer home a point. But my guess would be that writer/director Shanley would’ve put that in his play if it were less trouble than it was worth.

Howard Shore (and his all nurse orchestra) does a great job on the score, too.

I can see this film being very re-watchable. I wouldn’t recommend skipping it just because you think it’s another H-wood hit job on The Church.