Spotlight.

I have always wondered why The Exorcist has never terrified me. I have seen it on several occasions, under several states - more often than not alone in the middle of the night - and it has never spooked me, not even in that "boo" way some stupid films always do. I have come to realize the reason of this is because The Exorcist isn't really a horror movie, at least not in the sense it thinks it is. The movie is not about demons and possessions, it's about a different kind of devil: Hollywood.

Why does the possession have to happen to the daughter of a movie star? Chris MacNeil as played by Ellen Burstyn is the epitome of a Hollywood personality; liberal, a non-believer, dedicated to her craft. Why does the possession happen to her daughter and not a secretary's or a doctor's?

Perhaps the idea was precisely to highlight why things like these happen to non-believers but instead what the movie highlights is the idea of spectacle as seen through demonic possessions or movies.

Could there be any other reason why the movie's most iconic shot, feels so much like a staged entrance?

One of the earliest scenes in the film even anticipates this moment, as we see the spotlights being prepared for the movie Chris is working on.

Later, as the exorcism proceeds, we see the young girl floating while the terrified priests try to help her. The idea that both devils and Hollywood crews can make people fly is presented to us during an earlier scene where we see Chris discussing the movie, while in the background a crate is pushed around. Element which later might be used to lift actress Linda Blair from her bed.

Notice how the crate lingers in the back, not even the characters seem to notice its presence, a prescient reminder that the magic of movies isn't supposed to be obvious. All of this leads us to my favorite shot in the movie:

A shot, so cinematic that it begs to be seen more than once. Here the movie becomes aware of its own movie-ness, since we're the only ones who see this creepy face flash in Chris' house and if a demon's face was to flash behind our backs, who would get scared? The movie reveals it's not about the characters' interests but about the audience's. Burstyn has her best damsel in distress look and the demonic face appears for a mere instant, reminding us that regardless of our religious beliefs, the movies have always had the possibility to thrill us in unison.

This post is part of Nat's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" series.

May Noomi Forgive Me...

...but this David Fincher adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo keeps sounding better by the minute.
First came all the news about the amazing Daniel Craig being cast as Mikael!
Then Robin Wright as his lover Erika! (One of the richest roles in the series).
Now we finally have a Lisbeth! Her name is Rooney Mara, someone I was sure I'd never see again after that Freddy Kruger thing, alas her she is.
And doesn't seem to be half bad for the part, probably getting someone like Natalie Portman or Carey Mulligan would've been detrimental to the whole project given their notoriety.
Today though even better news came in the shape of the amazing Max von Sydow!
He's been cast as Henrik Vanger (the businessman who hires Mikael for the big investigation in the first installment).
I used to think this whole idea was a sure to be chaos but honestly I'm slightly excited now.
Of course I'm aware that this being a Hollywood thing means we will get the last movie until 2013 (I love that the Swedes shot them all at once and released the trilogy within a year, who has time to wait when the world is so chaotic!?!?) but at the rate it's going and with the parts left to cast this could in fact become an award worthy movie.
Or it could go the Bourne way and be discriminated agianst because of genre...
We shall see, for now let's all bask in the glory of more von Sydow onscreen (I wonder if the Swedish producers approached him to play any part in their own version of the movie...)

Robin Hood *1/2

Director: Ridley Scott
Cast: Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchett
Mark Strong, William Hurt, Matthew Macfadyen, Oscar Isaac
Danny Huston, Mark Addy, Kevin Durand, Scott Grimes
Eileen Atkins, Max von Sydow

What do you get when you combine Batman Begins, Gladiator and Lord of the Rings but take away anything that was good about them? The answer is Robin Hood.
Ridley Scott's retelling of the English folk tale is a conflicted attempt at updating the basic story for modern audiences and keeping faithful to its roots.
It's the 12th century and rebellious soldier Robin Longstride (Crowe) decides he's had enough of the Crusades. He's been fighting along Richard the Lionheart (Huston) for a decade and his patience just runs out one day.
After learning the king has died (which he obviously hasn't as anyone with the slightest inkling of world history would know) Robin and his, not so, Merry Men (Addy, Grimes and Durand) run into an ambush planned by the wicked sir Godfrey (Strong).
Godfrey plans to steal the crown, create civil war in England and help the French invade the country but Robin botches his plan and inadvertently ends setting the way for a farce which has him travel to England and pretend to be the deceased sir Robert Loxley (Douglas Hodge) who before dying made him promise he'd deliver his sword to his estranged father sir Walter (von Sydow).
Before Robin even leaves France we have ourselves the possibility to make at least four different movies but Scott and screenwriter Brian Helgeland seem to think that more is more and keep on stuffing the plot.
Back in British territory, the spoiled Prince John (Isaac) is wreaking havoc, bedding French women and making his mom (Atkins) quite pissed. Like a villain out of Shrek the young man simply succumbs to his whims and jeopardizes his kingdom and the movie's attempt at being coherent.
He's convinced by Godfrey to tax the hell out of his people, while he's secretly plotting to create a distraction for the French to take over the country, and paves the way for Robin to earn his hood.
Robin meanwhile is on his way to Nottingham where the evil Sheriff (MacFadyen) is executing the crown's orders with mean delight. There he meets sir Walter and Marion Loxley (Blanchett), no longer a maiden but a widow. Walter immediately takes a liking to Robin and requests that he pretend to be his son officially and stay living with them.
He obliges and soon is robbing grain from the Church, traveling at the speed of light to be in war councils, plowing the fields, saving England from the French invasion, creating the Magna Carta, solving daddy issues and courting the reluctant Marion.
There is so much going on in Robin Hood that it makes total sense how it's only when the film ends that we learn that "so the legend begins". Precisely, how would this man have time to become the Robin we know about, when Scott forces him to be so many things?
The hero's lack of identity determines the disunity that characterizes the entire film which amounts to little more than a wasted opportunity.
With that cast, which is rather impressive, one would at least expect the movie to deliver moments that evoked The Lion in Winter, instead the performances range from the hammy (Strong) to the confusing (Hurt).
Crowe, varies his accent from scene to scene and really shows no commitment to the role he's playing. This is obviously not his fault, entirely, given how the screenplay shows no regard whatsoever for any dramatic background.
In a way it's strange that Robin Hood in a way repeats the Gladiator formula yet fails so miserably.
As in the previous film, Crowe plays a troubles soldier adopted by a great actor, who changes the course of history. But while Gladiator had an almost Shakesparean aspect to it, Robin Hood is more unintentional Monty Python.
The film's major issue is probably the lack of clarity about what it wants to be exactly. Scott is known for his gritty realism and wondrously crafted action sequences but he also can do stupendous fantasy.
Here though he tries to do both at the same time without any cohesion, therefore we have Robin being all "Robin" and seducing the tough Marion (who honestly never seems to be into him) and a few minutes later he's behaving like an actual historical figure delivering grandiose speeches.
The story sometimes moves by inertia (it's never explained why the Merry Men actually follow Robin and the sudden "I love you" he says to Marion is ludicrous), then stalls, then throws in a random action sequence.
We never know for sure if we're meant to take anything about the movie seriously, is it trying to demythify the character? Is it trying to mythify history? What about the political undertones? Is it actually saying something about socialism and human rights?
It's ironic to say so but this is one Robin with no aim.

Happy Birthday Max!

He has played chess with death, narrated for von Trier, been the Savior, the Conqueror, an emigrant, a priest, an Allen player and a moving dad.
Today he turns 81 and we can only wait and see what else he has up his sleeve.
You can always go watch Shutter Island to celebrate him but I suggest you find your copy of The Seventh Seal, sit back and enjoy the work of one of the greatest acting masters of all time.

Shutter Island **1/2

Director: Martin Scorsese
Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingsley
Emily Mortimer, Michelle Williams, Patricia Clarkson, Elias Koteas
Max von Sydow, Ted Levine, Jackie Earle Haley, John Carroll Lynch

The opening scene in Shutter Island contains the entire movie; the Paramount Studio logo fills the screen while an ominous string music fills the air. Then all of a sudden the title cards appear, with no dissolves or fade outs. Seconds later we see U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) head over a toilet, suffering an extreme bout of sea sickness.
He cleans up, fixes his tie and goes outside where he meets his new partner Chuck Aule (Ruffalo) as they approach the title island (an Alcatraz like fort that harbors an asylum for the criminally insane).
In the old fashioned typography of the credits and the musical nod (which reminds you of something Franz Waxman would've done) Martin Scorsese declares his film will be a throwback to classic noir, gothic and horror films.
But for those paying enough attention, he also gives away the film's plot-and polarizing twists-direct and indirectly (those caring to find out in advance need to do no more than psychoanalyze the concept of vomiting and get creative after an apparent continuity error).
It can be said that because of this effect the film is arguably spoiled for those seeking a mystery flick and also ruined for those seeking a psychological study who instead of being rewarded with a complex whodunit get a facile howcatchem.
Scorsese, who's always been a precise filmmaker, has trouble conveying both predominant aspects of the film and while he obviously has a lot to say (the whole movie is filled with infinite movie homages and references) he tries to say it all at once.
This is evident in the convoluted plot, adapted by Laeta Kalogridis from a novel by Dennis Lehane, which shows us the investigation the marshals conduct in the island (the mysterious disappearance of a patient played by the excellent Mortimer) but also tries to convey the troubles inside Teddy's mind (related to the death of his wife, played by a beautifully creepy Williams) the extent of which also involves WWII traumas and HUAC conspiracies.
Soon the plot has trouble finding its way, if any, among the constant new information we receive; this somehow never really deepens the mystery but makes the film drag, as people who know what's coming undergo an endurance test and those unaware of the twists are drowned by the intense, but vague, dream sequences.
Therefore the film is at its best, when along with editor extraordinaire Thelma Schoonmaker and director of photography Robert Richardson, Scorsese indulges the audience with the power of his images.
There are scenes, involving surreal dreams and flashbacks, that go to places he's rarely visited since The Last Temptation of Christ; places where Michelle Williams bursts into flames and Nazi soldiers are executed in front of the frozen corpses they originated.
Some of these moments achieve the kind of beautiful nightmare qualities David Lynch has become an expert at and while giving Marty mostly new territory to explore, fail to click within the whole.
If one of the purposes of Shutter Island was to blur the division between reality and imagination (or to study if there is any when it comes to specific human perception) Marty's obviously more into one than the other (deciding which is which brings yet another dilemma).
For someone with Scorsese's kind of attention to detail, we also wonder why would he give the audience clues about the mystery and then forget to keep up the game.
The best element of the film is arguably Leonardo DiCaprio who gives one of his richest performances letting himself fall completely into whatever the movie is (he works that final line to the extent that he convinces us we saw a much better movie). He's obviously onto something no one else is and creates an affecting portrait of fear, passion and confidence about to shatter.
He is excellent in moments where other actors might've exaggerated and seeps into the brooding essence of someone like Robert Mitchum (appropriate given Out of the Past hugely shaped the feel of the film), his interaction with the superb, if somehow underused, cast is revelatory.
There's a scene with Clarkson that probably would've made a much more interesting film and his moments with the Vincent Price-like Kingsley and the perversely calm von Sydow, both playing asylum doctors, are spellbinding.
As a whole the experience of Shutter Island can be reduced to a paraphrase of the film's closing scene and lead us to wonder if a so-so Scorsese movie is worse than no Marty at all.

I don't know...

...if love is proof that God exists, or love is God himself.