Movie Review #25

The Quiet American (2002)
Directed by Phillip Noyce
Screenplay by Christopher Hampton and Robert Schenkkan
Based on the novel by Graham Greene

Rating: 7.25/10.00 or *** (out of 4)

Saigon. 1952. A tumultuous time in a growingly forbidden part of the world. The Communists and the French colonialists are fighting in the battlefields. Their bombs and missiles look eerily like fireworks in the darkened nighttime sky. The sounds are both disturbing and strangely normal. The Vietnamese go about their lives with these events in the background. Many of their lives are fine if the war does not approach them. If it remains in the battlefields and not on the streets.

This is the setting but not the substance of The Quiet American, an interesting and fascinatingly effective motion picture directed by Phillip Noyce. The film begins with a scene at a local Saigon harbor, with small boats stationary on fairly calm water. We see the fireworks of battle in the background and hear the soothingly calm and subtly desperate voice of Michael Caine's in the background. It's the most effective scene in the movie. It quickly and efficiently sets the movie up. We find out what the film is about and what the surroundings of the story really are. The film is about a love triangle; the surrounding is a war-torn but still tension-building Vietnam.

Michael Caine plays Thomas Fowler, a man who has seen most of his life but has found a freshness with Phuong (Do Thi Hai Yen), a much younger dance-hall girl. Fowler is in love with her, and Phuong appreciates the benefits she gets out of it. The relationship is mutual, but the feelings are not perfectly compatible. It's a perfect set-up for a third person to enter the couple's lives and change everything. Alden Pyle (Brendan Fraser) does so. Pyle is an American medical worker (at least that is how he introduces himself), a young face for Phuong. Pyle can offer one thing that Fowler cannot: marriage. Fowler is tied up in a marriage back in England. Fowler tries desperately to end the marriage, but his results remain futile. This leads Phuong to be swayed toward Pyle.

Fowler, an English newspaper correspondent, is told to come home. Fowler tries everything to prevent this from occurring. His one solid mode of living is Phuong. Fowler is a desperate man who has little hope in a world that seems destined for destruction. His love for Phuong is his only form of hope. To lose this, he says, "would be the beginning of death." And we do nothing but believe. Fowler is a no-doer. He observes, but he does not act. He believes in silence that he can do nothing but report on the world around him. His power is only in his ability to see and to write, not in his ability to act.

Pyle, meanwhile, is a man not as simple as he may seem to appear. The movie makes this pretty obvious right from the start. We note that he has a suspicious relationship with General The (pronounced tay), played by Quang Hai. General The is financially well-supported and has an ever-increasing number of followers. We soon learn of The's methods: His faction conducts terrorist acts on Vietnamese citizens; the blame is later put on Communists. The goal is international support and sympathy for his faction. The cost is what we see in the film. The "surprise" is what this cost involves. We learn that Pyle is one of this faction's supporters. Pyle, indeed, is an American CIA agent sent to Vietnam to conduct these terrorist acts in the hopes of eradicating Communism.

Fowler also learns of this while observing one such act. And here we are presented with the movie's brilliance. It uses the love triangle it presents and the surrounding tension of Vietnam to ask the audience a rather simple question: Are the resulting actions by Fowler in response to jealousy of Pyle's influence over and relationship with Phuong? Or are they the result of ethical standards he has? The question is all the more powerful since we are aware that his lifestyle before this time was that of observation, not action.

The film does not answer the question, and it does not have to. The question is only for us to consider, not for us to conclude upon. It makes for a rather involving last half hour of the film. We know what will happen (since the first ten minutes of the film show the results to us), but now we know the feelings charging it. And it is this power that Noyce shows with unflinching direction. Yet, the movie seems undercharged. Noyce refuses to go overboard, and the results are much more satisfying than they could have been.

There are scenes of uncommon power in this movie. Any interaction between Fraser and Caine is beautifully charged. Pyle and Fowler are enemies and friends. They both have the goal of Phuong's love in hand, and they vie each other for it. But at the same time, they relate to each other because of it. Added to this is the fact that each one is intrigued immensely by the other. Fowler says in voiceover in one scene that he did not expect to see Pyle on a particular day, but furthermore, he did not expect to be happy to see Pyle that day. This is a profound observation. Fowler and Pyle are not really enemies, but they are reminders to each other. These reminders benefit each of them.

The terrorist act in the streets of Saigon has an epic feel surrounding it. It is blatantly melodramatic, but it is also shown with a unique sense of sadness. We see terror in its truest form: horrible, bloody, and nondiscriminant. The streets are now the settings of the battlefield. No one is safe anymore.

However, sometimes style gets in the way of substance. Take a scene in which Pyle and Fowler discuss their love for Phuong. They are underground as the battle they are surrounded by gets ever closer and ever noisier. The camerawork and the music give the scene an overly chaotic feel. This is a bad use of melodrama for a well-intentioned idea. While war is on their doorsteps, all Pyle and Fowler think and talk about is Phuong. But the scene is ultimately annoying and badly presented.

I also have a slight problem with the climax of the film. It seemed to be presented in a thriller type fashion. This does not fit the style of the film, which is slow and subtle. We know what happens at the end of this scene anyway since the results of it are shown in the first part of the film. To present this scene in an adrenaline-pump style does not seem appropriate to me.

Acting, however, is nearly flawless. Caine's performance is mesmerizing. He plays Fowler with a perfect mixture of desperation and subtlety. He is fixated with Phuong, and his actions and appearance show it. Fraser, meanwhile, holds his own as Pyle, a man with an evil method of a good intention. Fraser uses his stereotype of eager and simplistic character-acting to his advantage. Do Thi Hai Yen plays Phuong as a silent but slightly authoritative woman who is aware of the power she has over the two men. She remains innocent in her methods and actions, however. Do Thi Hai Yen makes Phuong appealing.

Noyce has made a good film here. The Quiet American is subtle in its power to affect an audience. It holds a political statement toward America's suspect foreign policy in Vietnam, but it does not emphasize it as the film remains true to its most important feature: the love story. Although there are several instances when Noyce's style gets in the way of the unfolding tale, the powerful statements the film makes ultimately make this a film that is immensely engrossing and riveting.

Movie Review #24

Rear Window (1954)
Directed by Alfred Hitchcock
Written by John Michael Hayes
Based on the short story by Cornell Woolrich

Rating: 7.50/10.00 or *** (out of 4)

Rear Window is a great example of shocking suspense. It takes the film nearly an hour to create the suspense described by nearly every review I've read of the film, but once the tension gets going, it is a bold slap in your face. The shock is more of how quickly the tension kicks in, and the suspense itself is due to the long setup it took the film an hour to display.

Rear Window stars Jimmy Stewart as L.B. Jeffries, a top-notch photographer who had an accident that imprisons him in his Manhattan apartment. He has a full leg cast that renders him nearly immobile were it not for his wheelchair. Jeffries has two regular visitors to his apartment, Stella (Thelma Ritter) as the humorous but slightly authoritative nurse, and Lisa (Grace Kelly), Jeffries' beautiful girlfriend. A common theme of Hitchcock is to have a troubled romance and a funny character. Here it is in style once again. Lisa is the perfect match for Jeffries, but he stays distant for unclear reasons (His excuse can be summarily stated as "She's too perfect."). Whatever the case, the conflict between them is clearly seen in an extended sequence that involves an argument about his job versus her desires. The scene is well-presented. Jeffries discusses how his job requires him to be in jungles and other forbidden places, and he explains rather harshly that she can live in none of those places.

However, Lisa remains at Jeffries' side; she's a persistent optimist who believes they are the right match. Through thick and thin, the couple are attached even though Jeffries would not admit it.

Meanwhile, there's the humorous Stella, who is not afraid to speak her mind most of the time and has some words of wisdom that Jeffries probably needs to hear. Stella is also the cinematic equivalent of foreshadow. Stella warns of trouble ahead and also has several lines to subtly add suspense to a scene or event Jeffries has just observed.

So we now meet the plot of the film. Jeffries watches his neighborhood. He becomes involved in the lives of his neighbors by watching them. Constantly. Then with growing interest. Then with subtle hints of obsession. Then with complete and total ignorance to his own life. Jeffries is a case study of voyeurism. And the movie presents itself through his eyes. We see everything that he sees, we listen to conversations only he has, we are as paralyzed as he is. The film is the life of Jeffries.

This means that we see his neighbors through the windows to their homes. We see Miss Torso, the partier of all partiers, as she hosts several gentlemen, often at once. We see Miss Lonelyhearts, who has dinner-at-home dates with imaginary guests. We see a couple with a cute dog. The dog is allowed to go outside to play by lowering the animal by basket to the enclosed garden area. We see Lars and Anna Thorwald, a married couple, with a strained relationship. The wife is confined to bed, making Lars's existence nearly intolerable. We see a newlywed couple for a brief time before the shades are closed. And we see a composer nearing nervous breakdown because he is not able to formulate a new song.

It's interesting to note that while I was watching this part of the film (nearly the first third), I became eerily intrigued by the lives of these neighbors. It was on odd feeling, to say the least, since the act of voyeurism is rather unappealing to me. It's not insignificant to note how a monumental task like this seemed to succeed for Hitchcock. For not only do we sympathize with Jeffries, we can relate to him.

The second third of the movie begins the buildup. The Thorwalds are the focus, as we notice that the wife is no longer observed in the household. Since the wife was confined to bed the days beforehand, Jeffries wonders what is going on. Through a string of clues including weaponry, a suspicious suitcase, and a mound of dirt in the garden, Jeffries becomes convinced/obsessed with the idea that Lars (played by the effectively suspicious Raymond Burr) has murdered his wife. He tells this to a police investigator named Thomas Doyle (played by Wendell Corey). Doyle does not buy the theory, but he investigates the claim anyway. Doyle runs into brick walls that convince only himself that a murder did not take place. Meanwhile, Jeffries has lost all interest in his life to figure out exactly what is going on in the Thorwald household.

The final third of the movie heightens the suspense. Stella and Lisa, growingly convinced that something is wrong, investigate the possible murder. They check out the mound in the garden (after the dog was murdered shortly after he was observed sniffing the mound of dirt in the garden). Lisa then decides to go into the Thorwald's apartment to check things out while Thorwald steps out (due to a misleading phone call by Jeffries). Thorwald returns, though, while Lisa is still in the apartment. And this is where the suspense heightens. All Jeffries and Stella can do is watch while Lisa is being attacked by Lars. It's one of the most brilliant scenes of suspense I have observed on film. All we can do is watch. Nothing can be done.

But the climax has yet to occur. After police interrupt but are unknowing of the actual intent of the attack at the apartment, Lisa is taken to jail for the break-in. Meanwhile, Lars, now aware of Jeffries' obsession with the goings-on in his apartment, comes over to greet him. The tension builds as Lars slowly enters the corridor of his apartment hall. And Jeffries' only mode of attack is his flash camera. Another great build-up. The ensuing attack by Lars is the climax of the film, somewhat anticlimatic to the attack on Lisa in his apartment a few minutes beforehand. But the result is ultimately a great deal of suspense with an effective conclusion to it.

So if I liked the suspense and build-up so much, why did I give the film, claimed as a masterpiece by several critics, a seemingly low rating?

Almost universally acclaimed as a classic, Rear Window features Alfred Hitchcock at his finest in two areas: plot and acting. However, there are several areas that can use a little work. Although the dialogue is at times ingenious and tart, it is mostly either standard or at times a bit pretentious. Moreover, there are times when the dialogue is just plain silly. Take the scene in which Stella, Lisa, and Jeffries learn of the dog's death (in a melodramatic scene in and of itself). Wondering why the dog was murdered, Lisa closes the scene by saying, "Perhaps because it knew too much." Now come on. That's just poor and silly writing. There are several other one-liners or scene enders that seem too intelligent or arrogant for their own good.

I also think that Lisa is grossly underdeveloped. This is a Hitchcock tendency (underdeveloping the female lead), but in this case, I would consider it an extreme example. I really felt sympathy for Ingrid Bergman, Eva Marie Saint, Constance Collier, and Vera Miles. I did not feel as much for Lisa, perhaps because of her lack of screentime and character development. Lisa also seemed a bit too simple to me, too much of a stereotype.

The music is a nuisance at times. At times the dialogue is hard to focus on due to the clashing nature the music has with it. At other times, it serves wonderfully, however, especially when focusing on the failing composer.

Perhaps my most fundamental problem with the film is that it felt to me as if there was too much time for setup and not enough time for build-up. My favorite Hitchcock film, Notorious, eerily and subtly does both simultaneously. Rear Window is bold and obvious. The setup takes about a third of the movie away, and I sensed no tension at this time. Then the build-up begins. This takes too long, and I was losing interest while this was going on. Finally, after the build-up begins, my interest grew. But over 30 minutes had transpired before this occurred. Notorious had the eerie ability to add suspense while setting up the story. You knew with more and more certainty as the movie went along that something was going to happen. And the climax, at the very end of the film, perfectly concluded it.

Rear Window separated the two modes, and this added for a tremendous climax in and of itself, but it did not leave the lasting impact that Notorious did. This was disappointing. Although the movie serves as good entertainment and, to a degree, cinematic artistry, I hesitate to call it masterpiece material, perhaps due to this one observation.

One thing I will say: Rear Window serves much more satisfyingly in the suspense genre than most films I have seen. Too many filmmakers try the easy way out, and it leaves only a short amount of adrenaline rush followed by unsatisfying desire for more. Rear Window continues to add to itself, and this is much more effective. Today's directors should learn from this style.

So, is Rear Window worth the watch? Most certainly. Is it a masterpiece? Eh...

Movie Review #23

Sleepers (1996)
Directed by Barry Levinson
Screenplay by Barry Levinson
Based on the book by Lorenzo Carcaterra

Rating: 6.75/10.00 or *** (out of 4)

***Note: I don't recommend reading the review of the film if you wish to see the movie with fresh eyes.***

It's been three weeks since I've seen this film, and I'm still not sure whether I liked it or not.

That's really not a good way to start a review of a film, but it's the basic summary of my reaction to the movie. Featuring Brad Pitt, Kevin Bacon, Minnie Driver, Jason Patric, Dustin Hoffman, and Robert De Niro and directed by the genious behind Rain Man and Wag the Dog, Sleepers was an easy pick-up for me at the local rental store. And although the acting was solid and the film was entertaining (in the way it probably should have been), the direction and the overall message of the movie remain quite questionable to me.

Sleepers begins with four boys in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, a poverty-stricken, in-the-streets block of New York City. The year is 1966, and life is "normal" for four young friends in the forbidden locality. We are shown the two sides of the neighborhood: the Catholic Church and the mob. Both seem reasonably respectable. Father Bobby (Robert De Niro) provides advice, reassurance, and overall stability and morality to the neighborhood. Meanwhile, King Benny (Vittorio Gassman) keeps his neighborhood fairly quiet. The rules of the neighborhood allow no killings of fellow neighbors. The price is swift, and the retribution is complete (LOTR reference, for those who may be wondering.).

We see the four youngsters, who are Lorenzo (Joseph Perrino), Michael (Brad Renfro), John (Geoffrey Wigdor), and Tommy (Jonathan Tucker), pull pranks, talk about girls, and live the way a young life should be (for the most part). However, family lives are generally rough and sometimes approaching or exceeding abusive. It is strange, though, to see that family is held very tightly by the four boys. In fact, the four boys themselves could be classified as family. Their friendships are depicted as solid and unbreakable.

Then a dreadful day a time later ends up becoming a life-altering experience. A prank involving stealing a hot dog stand ends up in a near-killing of an innocent bystander when the boys could hold the hot dog stand no longer, which caused the stand to fall down a flight of stairs and nearly smash a man to death. The boys clearly did not want the incident to occur, but the prank and the near-fatal results landed them a year (at least) in the Wilkinson Reform School.

The year is brutal, to put it lightly. Under the villainous supervision of Sean Nokes (Kevin Bacon), the kids are abused in all fashions, including physical beatings, involuntary sexual acts with the prison guards, and long periods of solitary. The film's focus is (perhaps) obviously on the sexual abuse, although there are extended sequences involving physical abuse including the death of one of the prisoners because of a game of football. Although the sexual abuse is not horribly graphic, there is much implication, with sound effects and music adding the horrible punch necessary.

After the dreadful year in the reform school, we are then quickly taken to 1981. We see two of the boys (John and Tommy) aged to young adults. Both are hardened criminals with a quiet violent hatred beneath them. They note that Nokes is eating dinner alone in the restaurant they are at. Quickly, their revenge is sprung. They murder him in front of several witnesses.

When Lorenzo, a reporter for the New York Daily News, and Michael, a district attorney, learn of the murder, they quickly and effectively formulate a plan for the goings-on in Wilkinson Reform School to be made public. With the help of aged King Benny, an alcoholic lawyer (Dustin Hoffman), an ex-girlfriend of Johnny's (Minnie Driver), and alibi witness Father Bobby, Lorenzo and Michael manipulate the judicial system to ensure the innocence of John and Tommy. The process is coupled with some intense dramatic sequences.

Father Bobby is faced with a huge dilemma of lying to the court (serving as an alibi witness) rather than telling the truth and ensuring the jail sentence John and Tommy would face. Father Bobby is a father-figure to these boys, and the boys are like sons to him. In the most effective sequence of the movie, as Carol (John's ex-girlfriend) and Lorenzo visit Father Bobby so Lorenzo could reveal the as-of-yet undisclosed details of the Wilkinson Reform School events, the camera focuses on Father Bobby's reaction. De Niro perfectly shows the torment going through his mind: He must face and decide between two moral issues, both of which have severe consequences, personally and perhaps publically. De Niro provides the last hour's greatest drama and greatest consequences.

Hoffman is riveting as a nervous and used lawyer tired of the profession. His questions to the witnesses are amazingly subtle in their insinuation and their power, and the surprise to which most of the witnesses respond is definitely reasonable. Hoffman gives the best performance of the movie, and De Niro is a close second.

Gassman serves as a great supporting actor. Kevin Bacon is horribly effective as the head prison guard. Driver's performance is good but nothing overly special. The rest of the performances are standard fare. Brad Pitt plays lawyer Michael, Jason Patric plays Lorenzo, Ron Eldard plays John, and Billy Crudup plays Tommy. None are overly convincing, but at least none of them underperform.

After viewing the film, I have to wonder at the moral context it is trying to show us. Roger Ebert is convinced that homophobia is the revenge fantasy. I disagree, and I have two reasons why. The first is perhaps obvious if told: If any man were to be forced to have sex with another man, would revenge pop into your mind? If so, why? Because it was a man, or because you were forced to have sex? I don't know about anyone else, but my revenge, if I were to seek it, would be because of the latter and not the former. Roger Ebert then goes on to say as proof that homophobia is the justice for the four boys' revenge:

"If you doubt that the movie depends on homophobia to justify its morality, ask yourself: If the boys had been beaten but not sexually molested, would the movie play the same way? Would the priest arrive at the same decision? Would the verdict seem as justified?"

I ask the audience this. What if the four boys were actually women? Would the justification seem as valid? I don't think homophobia is at the core of the revenge displayed in the movie. I, for one, would be just as angered if the four were actually women. Rape has more profound consequences than just physical abuse. Rape is the charge behind the movie's morality, the way I see it. Let's face the facts here. These four boys were savagely beaten, sexually abused, and mentally scarred involuntarily. The morality behind the justice is that of pure anger and revenge based on rape, not necessarily or even likely because of homophobia.

I question two things: Was the revenge, no matter what the cause behind it, moral? Is murder "more tolerable" than sexual abuse? Furthermore, should other ethical issues be ignored based on this ethical question. In other words, should murder and lying be justified due to this seemingly moral revenge. The movie seems to think so, but I am not so sure.

And here's the problem with the film: It assumes that the audience will agree. And I, for one, did not. Hence, I had really no emotion whatsoever toward the actual verdict the two men would receive. And I really did not feel good or bad after that, either.

Furthermore, the movie had fundamental problems with pacing, choppiness, and a tinge of melodrama in inappropriate spots (Melodrama may be required with the main plot but not with the subplots of the film.). The last hour of the movie dragged, and the movie was too long in general. But I still found the movie engrossing and worth the rent. If anything, Sleepers is worth the rent because it does evoke the questions I just briefly engaged. And you get to see some quality acting along the way. But don't ask me to defend the movie's assumptions, for sometimes their validity is a question mark.

***Note: Roger Ebert's review is at the following website: http://www.suntimes.com/ebert/ebert_reviews/1996/10/101803.html.