Moon
Psychopaths Are People, Too: Seven Psychopaths
Writer’s Block sucks. But movies about Writer’s Block are even worse. Generally speaking, films about screenwriters, or writers in general, that have Writers Block are the most mundane, trite, and uninteresting things ever. They seem to be just short of a half assed Woody Allen rip off. The problem with many of those “Writer’s Block” Films is that they appear less to be an examination of the writer or even of human nature, and more whiny “I can’t write” movies. Worse, what they tend to be writing in the film is rather uninspired. But it only took the mastermind Martin McDonagh, the man behind the darkly hilarious In Bruges, to take that inherently meta content, make it even more self-referential and make it one of the funniest, meaningful films of 2012. Seven Psychopaths is dense, clever, and a riotous good time.
Marty (Colin Farrell) is having trouble writing his screenplay. Trying to write a violent film that explores the existential aspects of, well, these seven psychopaths, he’s stuck. Meanwhile, as Marty is having trouble coming up with ideas, his best friend Billy (Sam Rockwell) gets involved with some mobsters after he… steals a Shih Tzu. All the while, murders are being committed around the area. What is the film about, though? The murders? The unfinished screenplay? The friendship? And what about those titular seven psychopaths?
Part of the brilliance of McDonagh’s swift and funny film is that it’s about all these things, intertwined and inseparable. The murders are, to some extent, the MacGuffin and what moves the film, pacing it around as if it were Marty’s own screenplay. These murders and dog nappings are what get the film rolling, even when we are introduced to the first of the seven psychopaths three minutes into the film. The unfinished screenplay is the framework and narrative structure of the film, what is essentially built to hold the film together in the same way that the office scenes hold The Cabin in the Woods together (actually, a lot of comparisons could be made between the two films). The friendship between Marty and Billy is the heart of the film, something that is at first considered so crass and vulgar that one would think that the film would lack a heart. On the contrary, the film is full of heart. Also, blood.
Marty’s unfinished screenplay, its continual work in progress framework serves a higher purpose. McDonagh is able to comment on the state of film as it is and how it has been for over a century. It seems farfetched, but the meta, postmodern approach, which seems to both honor and satirize the meta-ness of other films like the work of Tarantino, allows itself to seep through the storyline and act as commentary for the audience. Although both Abbie Cornish and Olga Kurylenko are both billed on the poster, leading people to believe that their roles are substantial, neither actress is on screen for more than ten minutes. This fact is commented upon again when Hans Kieslowski (a brilliant Christopher Walken) comments upon the weak development of the female characters in Marty’s script, which ironically (or not) also features only a couple characters. Kieslowski’s main complaint is that there few women that are in Marty’s script lack development and as soon as they start to are whacked off, killed, or stabbed. Although it makes McDonagh a little complicit in his criticisms of females in films (especially in films geared towards men), making him like a funnier Michael Haneke making a funnier Funny Games, what works is that instead of chastising everyone, McDonagh is in on the joke and Walken serves as either the film critic/academic or that guy who read that script you wrote at Starbucks and is now offering criticism. The violence of it all blends the dark material McDonagh has used in the past and, again, as commentary.
There are constant parallels between what is going on in the script and what is occurring in “real life”, an interconnectivity and symbiosis that if one thing happens in the script, it will happen in reality and vice versa. The cleverness behind this is not as blatantly obnoxious as it could have been and instead flows fluidly back and forth. In many ways, the use of the screenplay framework is much like Charlie Kaufman’s Adaptation., but even then seems to come off slightly subtler than even Kaufman’s script. Whereas Kaufman seems to show a very obvious and direct correlation between the script and the reality, McDonagh treats his framework like a fluid series of coincidences. The fluidity behind this turns something that would have been dense and overblown into something significantly smoother.
The psychopaths of the title? They, too, serve a higher purpose. From the likes of Walken, Tom Waits, Woody Harrelson, and Harry Dean Stanton, these nutcases and whatever problems they have can serve as two interpretations: a) the men who are these psychopaths don’t let their psychopathy define them and b) they all represent different audience expectations for films. Let us begin with a): each of these men has a story to tell, and while those stories may not technically justify their insanity of what have you, it adds incredible depth and nuance to the characters. That may not be exactly to justify or to somehow force the audience into projecting that kind of complexity into whatever killer may turn up on the news tomorrow, but understanding that depth and nuance in everyone may be the point.
And for b): the various psychopaths and killers in the film seem to represent various audience expectations for movies. This particular theory came to me while I was sitting in the theater while Rockwell, Walken, and Farrell were on their way, avoiding Harrelson’s gangster Charlie Costello. The men are headed to the desert, and while Farrell says he wants to write a film about men going to the desert to talk about existential things, Rockwell responds by saying (or screaming, rather), “WHAT, ARE WE MAKING FRENCH FILMS NOW?!”
While in the desert, the men talk about how to end Marty’s screenplay, and each one has a specific idea of how the film should end. For Billy, a shootout is a must, but for Walken, a philosophical discussion about human nature is the way to go. And although not every psychopath is allowed their input for Marty’s script, it is not hard to tell what they would say about it. This seems to be that the seven psychopaths are the perfect representation of the audience. Walken, who’s character’s surname is Kieslowski, just might step foot to go see A Short Film About Killing, while Rockwell would definitely be a Pulp Fiction or The Expendables kind of man, while Farrell himself might just go and see Jules et Jim. These different approaches to film and entertainment again serve as commentary for McDonagh about not only the film industry and its creative processes, but the reactions to that work. Its satirical nature and treatment of crime films is pure gold.
Breathlessly funny, McDonagh’s script works overtime, and although the camera work doesn’t work overtime (except in the killer sequences) with the dialogue once again showing up as swift and hilarious. Throughout the vulgar, but killer dialogue, there are always erudite observations about human nature, which is part of McDonagh’s brilliance. The performances are highlighted by some of the best acting all year, probably best from Rockwell (who might finally breakthrough, after his masterful turns in such things like Moon) and Christopher Walken.
Martin McDonagh’s clever film works on several levels, making it dense enough for those privy to hyper analysis but breezy enough for anyone else. Featuring some incredible dialogue, Seven Psychopaths investigates both the art of (in)humanity and audience expectation in one of the most meta and funniest films of the year. Seven Psychopaths is, shall we say, a killer film.
Watch and See – My Favorite 101 Films: Part 3
Welcome back, to my continuing series of my top 101 films! In case you missed it, here’s part 2!
Welcome back to my continuing series of my favorite 101 films of all time, where you’ll encounter: wood chippers, tanks, “Nazi Julie Andrews”, Beauty and the Beast, something precious, whiskey, “In the Hall of the Mountain King” whistled, Nabokov smiling, something too gay to function, the end of the world, memory problems, a smile, and two tragic heroines, who happen to be hookers.
41. Fargo (1996) Directed by Joel and Ethan Coen
Most of the Coen Brothers’ films, I’ve observed, tend to be neo-noirs disguised under some other sort of other genre clichés. However, their dark classic Fargo is just a straight up noir, studying the lives of criminals, a police officer, a mild mannered guy with a lot of debt, and the small town residents of North Dakota with their funny accents. The Coens described where they grew up as “Siberia with family themed restaurants”, and that description seems to be a good metaphor for the perfect blend of comedy and suspense. The film is dark and cold, but also completely hilarious. Fargo is perfect, dontcha know?
42. GoldenEye (1995) | Directed by Martin Campbell
I have always asserted that the best James Bond films are simply the best espionage films. It works outside of the series and can stand on its own. This is just as true as Martin Campbell’s first Bond effort, GoldenEye, which ushered in Pierce Brosnan as Double O Seven for the first time. Bridging the gap between the hokey escapism of the previous14 films and the gritty realism of the Craig era, GoldenEye works well because aside from a couple key scenes and the fact that, as per usual, Bond recites his name, it doesn’t feel like a Bond film, therefore not weighted by certain expectations. Even if the expectations were there, it would surpass them, and rightly so. GoldenEye was a fantastic way for Bond to enter the ‘90s.
43. In the Loop (2009) | Directed by Armando Iannucci
In the Loop is the Dr. Strangelove for the 21st century. The terrific film delves into the world of British politics and profanely satirizes everything. If it weren’t so gut bustingly funny, it would be deeply depressing to realize how incompetent some of these people are. The screenplay is incredible, its language so vulgar and funny that it shed new light on certain topics. And added some insults to my lexicon. (“Nazi Julie Andrews!”) Based loosely on the BBC show The Thick of It, In the Loop spectacularly mocks the fog of war.
44. Kill Bill (2003/2004) | Directed by Quentin Tarantino
Kill Bill was Tarantino’s pop art collage. Stealing (or borrowing, whatever you prefer) everything under the sun to create a fast paced, frenetic film, it’s a playscape for the senses. The visceral thrills are second to none, as Tarantino shows off how much he knows about film, provides a badass female lead fantastically played by Uma Thurman, and seems to have an incredibly fun time.
45. King Kong (2005) | Directed by Peter Jackson
If there has ever been a contemporary remake that’s been done right, it is this one. Peter Jackson’s gorgeously realized film is a stunner in every way. The level of detail, the characterizations, and the look of the film. The best thing about it is, though, the Beauty, Ann Darrow (a charming Naomi Watts) and the Beast, Kong (Andy Serkis is a genius, did you know that?). The love that Kong feels for Ann is so beautiful and so real that the ending breaks my heart every time. Animated with integrity, Kong’s fall from grace is painful and beautiful all at once. No one brings me to tears more often than the utterance of “It wasn’t the airplanes. It was Beauty killed the Beast.”
46. Kuroneko (1968) | Directed by Kaneto Shindo
This Japanese horror film with a feminist twist features some of the most stunning cinematography in a horror film. Deriving much of the action and movement from traditional Noh Theater, the stage is lit for ghostly shimmers, as a vengeful woman and her mother, who sometimes appear as cats, rip the throats out from samurais. Its plot is fine, but it is undoubtedly a showcase for the presentation, from the beautiful costumes and sets to the dreamlike cinematography. Spectacularly creepy, it’s like dancing with the demons in the pale moonlight.
47. The Lady Vanishes (1938) | Directed by Alfred Hitchcock
This seems to be Hitchcock at his jauntiest. He may have made other light dark comedies, and even one deliberate comedy, but The Lady Vanishes is his frothiest film yet. Some of the techniques that would become Hitch’s trademark are featured in the film, but whatever the sense of foreboding; it is driven away by how amusing and funny it is. Its romance and the “opposites attract” would actually leave a little bit of a legacy, with Carrie Fisher quoting the film in When Harry Met Sally… (“You’re the most contemptible man I’ve ever met!”) Hitch keeps the audience entertained by both the comedy and the mystery, but even noted film historians have started watching the film with the intent to analyze it heavily and given up, lying back, and relaxing their ride on Hitch’s train.
48. Lady Vengeance (2005) | Directed by Park Chan-wook
I always go back and forth between this and Oldboy as to which is better. Both are part of a thematic trilogy from Chan-wook, and on days when the Lady takes the cake, she really takes it. The emotional resonance in this film is extraordinary. A beautiful study of revenge and redemption, Lady Vengeance sticks out for its lush colors (or not, if you watch the excellent Fade to White version, in which scene by scene, the film desaturates) and its very Murder on the Orient Express-like conclusion. The treatment revenge has in this film is, in a way, less harsh than in Oldboy. Out protagonist comes to realize what she’s doing and how revenge itself is changing her far more quickly and halfway through the film, her motivations change slightly. It remains one of the most beautiful thrillers of the last decade.
49. The Lord of the Rings Extended Editions (2001 – 2003) | Directed by Peter Jackson
There is not very much to say about Peter Jackson’s epic trilogy that hasn’t been said before. Though the pacing is at times problematic (how would you deal with the material?), it’s extravagant and amazingly huge in scope. If anyone could ever tackle these tomes and bring them to life, it was Jackson.
50. Lost in Translation (2003) | Directed by Sofia Coppola
Sofia Coppola is an expert at capturing the meandering reality of loneliness. She did it, probably in a flashier way, with The Virgin Diaries, she did it with more focus on the costumes than on the plot in Marie Antoinette, but she explored the topic perfectly in Lost in Translation, which won her an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. Two lonely people in a place where there is a significant language barrier meet and… do not sleep together. Instead, they find in each other kindred souls and a kind of intimacy that is unmatched with merely sex. The exploration of strangers in a lonely place offering solace to one another is pitch perfect in every scene. It turns out that existential ennui translates perfectly for the screen.
51. M (1931) | Directed by Fritz Lang
Having seen this film several times, there is no way that I will not think of Lang’s noir-ish crime thriller M when I hear the foreboding notes of “In the Hall of the Mountain King”. Whistled faux-innocently by the ever creepy Peter Lorre is the first sign that nothing good is to come of this. Almost a critique of the police procedural as we know it, the deliberate pacing, sparsely framed shots, and beautiful chiaroscuro all add up to what is an indelible experience. (And, yes, I do consider it a part of German Expressionism).
52. Manhattan* (1979) | Directed by Woody Allen
I’ve gone back and forth between Woody Allen’s Annie Hall and Manhattan for what feels like ages, but I decided the latter would be in my top ten. More the comedic drama than Annie Hall’s dramatic comedy, the bittersweet tale of unrequited love and intellectuals in New York is a masterpiece. The film’s one liners are perfect, but underneath is the pathos and feeling of desire that everyone feels in the film. The Gershwin filled score adds to these tender moments of drama and romance, aiding the tone perfectly. And, of course, the film features some of the best black and white cinematography ever on screen by the Prince of Darkness, Gordon Willis. While some may love New York, I, myself, love Manhattan.
53. The Manchurian Candidate (2004) | Directed by Jonathan Demme
Here’s another remake that was very successful in terms of quality. Though, re-adaptation seems a little more appropriate. Demme re-appropriates the themes of the original film, which circled around Communism, and used them in a contemporary context. Taking place after Desert Storm, the film gears in on various medical testing and the state of terrorism in the real world. It makes for an effective and taut thriller. Live Schreiber and Meryl Streep are incredible in the film.
54. Mean Girls (2004) | Directed by Mark Waters
You may think it odd for me to have this film on my Top 101, but I truly adore it. Tina Fey’s acute study of the teenage girl in high school and the desire for popularity is one of the smartest teen films to ever be made. Endlessly quotable, its astute observations (as I mentioned in my lengthy review) are more than true. Even at the small school I go to, there are things that have happened that have reminded me of Mean Girls. Part of this realism is that the film is based on a nonfiction book, the other part being just good writing. Mean Girls is supported by outstanding performances from its cast, including Lindsay Lohan, Lizzy Caplan, and Rachel McAdams. Yes, I’m going to say it: This movie is so fetch!
55. Melancholia* (2011) | Directed by Lars von Trier
It’s no secret that Lars von Trier is the benevolent sadist of art cinema. His films are rarely easy to watch, always beautiful, and always challenging. With Melancholia, he presents to us an operating staging of the end of the world. Though, the end of the world hardly means anything in comparison to the characters he studies in the film and the lives he analyzes. The fly by planet may be that manifestation of depression for Justine, but it’s Kirsten Dunst’s stand out performance that makes the end of the world so memorable. Charlotte Gainsbourg, too, is outstanding ass Justine’s older sister, and their relationship dynamic slowly disintegrates throughout the film. The cinematography, despite being hand held in nature, still captures beautiful scenes and portraits. The impact Justine has, as her emotions fly out of control, is just as damaging as the collision of Earth and Melancholia. But that’s what great art is: a collision of beautiful ideas, sounds, images, and emotion.
56. Memento (2000) | Directed by Christopher Nolan
Christopher Nolan’s breakthrough art house film is an incredible exploration into memory, denial, and crime. A gloriously fantastic neo-noir with a tight script, amongst the things that make this film extraordinary is the nonlinear narrative. Yes, my friend, linearity goes out the window, as it is played backwards. If I didn’t love this film, I wouldn’t have written my extended essay on it. Guy Pearce plays a damaged man searching for his wife’s killer, but as we go further back into his mind and into the past, the things that are revealed are chilling yet incredibly human. Nolan starts playing his games for the big time in Memento. Stunning in every frame, Memento is one of the greatest film noirs ever made.
57. Midnight in Paris (2011) | Directed by Woody Allen
Woody Allen’s delightful tale of the dangers of nostalgia is a pitch perfect comedy that hits every right note. Owen Wilson brings something new to the Woody archetype, making his struggling screenwriter his own, while the supporting cast is absolutely amazing. From mean girl Rachel McAdams, the pedantic Michael Sheen, and the tons of historical figures that appear as Gil travels back to Paris in the 1920’s (notably Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, and Dali), Allen is at the top of his game here. Midnight in Paris is a film that both warns one of the dangers of nostalgia, but enjoys it all the same.
58. Modern Times (1936) | Directed by Charlie Chaplin
Charlie Chaplin avoided sound for as long as he could, and nearly a decade after The Jazz Singer had premiered with its revolutionary synchronized soundtrack, Chaplin was still holding tight keeping his Little Tramp’s lips sealed. The film is not completely silent. Modern Times incorporates some sound effects and probably half a dozen lines spoken by minor characters. And while Modern Times is undeniably hysterical, heartwarming, and as good of a showcase of Chaplin’s pantomime abilities as any of his films from a great filmography, Modern Times provides some interesting social commentary about consumerism, labor workers, and the industrialization of America. The film also ushered in the classic jazz standard “Smile”, which would be famously sung by Nat King Cole. With its ambiguous, but happy ending, Chaplin would move forward with technology and social awareness in his films.
59. Moon (2009) | Directed by Duncan Jones
Duncan Jones’ debut feature is a about a man on the moon, who mines, and feels lonely. Yes, the existential crisis of loneliness in space. It sounds rather trite, but with sharp visuals, a gorgeous and atmospheric score by Clint Mansell, and absolutely stunning performance from Sam Rockwell, Moon is a star amongst emotional dramas. Sam Rockwell’s performance of Sam Bell is the “every man”, a man who has been working and mining for the last three years on the moon. When his time on the moon is about to close and he gears up to head back home, he realizes that he has become so attached to solitude, he does not understand how he will cope with the change in environment. It’s a beautiful, subtle, and at times fantastically suspenseful film.
60. Nights of Cabiria/Vivre sa Vie* (1957/1962) | Directed by Federico Fellini/Jean-Luc Godard
The prostitution of society, religion, magic, celebrity, emotion, and money are the subjects of two of the greatest films ever made. I see Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria and Godard’s Vivre sa Vie as companion pieces, both dealing with similar subjects, both dealing with similar tragic protagonists, and both ending in similar ways. In Fellini’s film, Giulietta Messina inhabits the outspoken, down on her luck prostitute Cabiria. She aspires to be something bigger, but men constantly, habitually take advantage of her. In Godard’s film, framed around twelve tableaus, Anna Karina plays Nana, a Parisian 
girl who aspires to be an actress, but soon is relegated to being a prostitute. Both films take place in beautiful places in the world, and show the decrepit nature beneath the façade. Both films are directed with integrity and mastery of the medium. And both films are heartbreaking and tragic. If you don’t cry, or at least shed a tear, at the end of the films, you are a robot or a sociopath. Containing two of the greatest performances by women in cinematic history, both films, exploring complex characters, are the best the world of cinema has to offer.
I Like Things That Look Like Mistakes 