Reviews

I mean that title in a good way. If you view this more for the overall impression rather than the specifics, you will get the impression that you watched a weird remake of Vertigo. But it's not even really a remake; Guy Maddin made something surreal here, but it took a mountain of patience and work.

And you know what? It's also hilarious in parts. An *NSYNC video pops up at one point. Yep. I'm not kidding. And you never know what footage will crop up here or there, whether it's a TV movie or from Don't Look Now.

My recommendation is to have a drink or two and just let it play. You won't come away with a sense of awe, but you might giggle a bit and at least appreciate how much this man was able to invoke a classic film using splices of others. Don't smoke opium, though.

I understand why people dislike this movie. Most people don't like to be an active participant in what we've been trained to think of as a passive medium-and that's okay, but don't judge an "active" movie as poorly made just because you prefer "passive" ones.

If you are willing to actively watch and interpret what's going on with openness, you may reach the same conclusions as I have. I think this movie does make sense once you realize whose story it is.

Jake is the janitor. Jake has either dementia or Alzheimer's, which can be genetic and was perhaps passed down from his father. This entire film is the attempted reconstruction of the past by someone with a confused mind, one that misremembers names, timelines, and details, but distinctly remembers movie monologues and musical numbers. The final scene, of course, never happens: it's a word-for-word (and nearly shot-for-shot remake) of the final scene of A Beautiful Mind followed by a musical number from Oklahoma. This is the ending he wanted. But that's not what really happened to him.

What really happened, then? Jake cleaned the school during the blizzard, ate his lunch and watched a sappy comedy, then went off the mental deep end in his truck, where he sadly froze to death, only to be (presumably) found by the oncoming snow plow we hear in the end credits. During all of this, he's remembering a girl he met briefly at a bar, one who he's loved all his life but never spent it with. He never even learned her name. There were other women, like Lucy and Yvonne, but none of them matched how he felt about this unnamed girl. She's the one he hopes he could bring home to Mom and Dad, but he ends up piecing together experiences with other women to inform his vision of this girl with his family.

Once I put all of this together, I realized just how devastating this movie is. It really got to me. Kauffman is a genius. It's okay if you didn't like it, but know that real thought and heart went into this.

I am longtime Alexander Payne fan. He has never let me down... until now. The movie starts out with an interesting-enough premise, but even in the beginning, it sags a bit in dialogue. I love Payne's milquetoast dialogue that reveals his characters' distaste for their daily lives. There is none of it here. The dialogue and execution just get worse over time. The cinematography is good, at least.

Matt Damon does a pretty good job, but anybody could have been in this role. It wasn't unique. Same with Udo Kier and Christoph Waltz. Waste of talent.

By the end, the film becomes a vehicle for ecological warnings instead of an interesting character study. It was flat, predictable, and too long. I can't believe this is the same guy who made Election, About Schmidt, Sideways, Descendants, and Nebraska. Just... why? I am a pretty eco-conscious person, but I felt the shovel in my throat by hour one.

Don't bother. Save yourself the 2 hours and 16 minutes.

While this film version is indeed a visually-pleasing family adventure epic, it is better suited for those who are not looking for any of Jack London's naturalistic tone. It is what I would deem The Call of the Wild-lite, meaning it does provide the gist of the original story without all of the violence and death.

In the original novel, violence and death are a part of daily existence in Buck's tumultuous experience, from watching a dog get ripped into literal shreds to committing acts of wild violence himself-at one point, he takes down a bull moose on his own. The latter is proof of his wolfish qualities rising to the surface. None of this is in the film.

Yet it is understandable to leave that level of violence out of what was intended to be a PG film from its inception, so I can forgive that much. What I cannot forgive is cutting scenes that were significant but had no gore or death-the sled pull competition or Buck saving Thornton from river rapids as two examples. Strange that Sanders created new storylines to fill the holes of what would have been exciting sequences. Oh well.

It's a fun watch, and definitely heartwarming. At least the ending is pretty faithful, and thank goodness it is the story of Buck and not Thornton for once (mostly).

While Russian Ark is, without dispute, an utterly beautiful, albeit non-linear romp through two centuries of Russian history, I would hardly call it rapturous or even moving. It narrows its lens entirely on the "majesty" of the bourgeoisie. Both of the 'spectators' (European and Russian) are endlessly fixated on nobility. At some points they speak of revolution, but fail to highlight the revolutionaries themselves. We see tiny glimpses of the minor, wondrous moments in life, but the film fails to truly underscore these as its focus and instead plays out like a love letter to Russian monarchy. How can Sokurov, who made Mother and Son (a truly moving film) sink to such a level? I found myself both aching for and disappointed by the film's ending by the time it rolled around (which was completely spoiled in the trailer, by the way).

Had the film not been made with such tact, I doubt it would have received much critical acclaim. The choreography alone is a major feat. The film's continuous shot is also impressive and cleverly designed to be relatively unnoticed--no cuts in a 90-minute film is a true landmark indeed, even if done in lesser hands--but as the Russian spectator's final monologue fades out across the gray, misty sea, so does any chance of the film having any resonance.

I say all of this with sadness, since I wanted desperately for it to be something more than it was. Anything more would have been preferable. I highly doubt Russian Ark will be a journey worth revisiting, should I ever bother to do so. It is as visually pleasing as the many vases on display at the Russian Hermitage--and just as vacant.