Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close ***

Director: Stephen Daldry
Cast: Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, Thomas Horn
Viola Davis, John Goodman, Max von Sydow
Jeffrey Wright, Zoe Caldwell

When did manipulation become such a dirty word? Art after all is designed after the very concept of manipulation; whether it is to manipulate elements that become art (concept which goes from painting to the precise position of frames while editing films) or to provoke a reaction from audiences, artists throughout the ages have attempted to manipulate us into thinking, feeling or seeing differently.
It results quite baffling then that people often find themselves so surprised to "discover" an art piece is trying to manipulate them. Isn't this after all what is expected? Even those artists whose entire oeuvre is meant to provoke indifference, are asking something from their audiences.
Throughout his career, Stephen Daldry has been accused of being a manipulator who relies on specifically engineered elements to elicit pre-fabricated praise, stick to the whims of his producers and more often than not rake in some awards.
This shouldn't speak about Daldry's work more than about the industry he's working in, one where he has proved himself to be a highly efficient worker whose mastery of the medium reminisces the work being done by countless filmmakers during the studio system era. Perhaps this is what bothers most people about Daldry's success: his kind of machine-like filmmaking seems like it's set itself out there to invalidate the concept of auterism.
If so, such is the case with Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close an adaptation of Jonathan Safran Foer's
eponymous novel in which Daldry makes a case for his precise taste and manipulation abilities without trying to create something that remotely resembles a personal signature.
His movie is composed of quirks and settings that have worked before and therefore work again (the frenetic editing of Amélie, a musical score that evokes Daldry's own The Hours, a beautiful work of cinematography etc.) Daldry even goes as far as to extend this seeming laziness to the casting, to play the roles of two every-men (and every-women) he went with two of America's most beloved actors: Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock.
That these two get together to tale a story about 9/11 seems even more appalling! How does Daldry dare make Sandra and Tom suffer? And yet that's precisely what he does and unsurprisingly makes it work.
Daldry is one of those directors who is at the service of story and he concentrates on delivering just that, a well told tale with elements that work, too much, like clockwork.
Hanks plays Thomas Schell, a beloved husband (Bullock plays his wife Linda) and father (Horn plays his son, Oskar) who dies during the NYC terrorist attacks leaving his family without any closure. Oskar is angered at the fact that his mother buried an empty casket, until he finds that his oedipal trauma might have a cure when he finds a mysterious key his father left behind.
Not questioning whether this is a secret message or not, little Oskar sets out on a magical journey across New York City, trying to find the lock that will be opened by the key. Along the way he meets several characters who, like him, have lost someone or are enduring emotional pain (Viola Davis and Jeffrey Wright are particularly touching as a married couple) one of them being a mysterious elderly man (Sydow) who for no specified reason refuses to speak.
Oskar's adventure has less in common with Don Quixote than it does with the little boy from The Tin Drum  whose story is similarly placed against an unsteady historical background. Leaving behind all subtleties for an impressive, if often obnoxious, performance, child-actor Horn grabs all of Oskar's quirks and turns them into elements that eventually become believable. That he is able to both irritate you and warm your heart speaks about the actor's ability to overcome superfluous character details (he seems autistic but in old school fashion this is never alluded to in clear medical terms) and Daldry makes sure that he has enough to do around the adult actors. Watching the little boy with Sydow could've had creepy implications but instead evokes the legendary actor's devotion to his child in Pelle the Conqueror, in similar fashion, Horn stands perfectly against Hank's jolly demeanor and an impressive Bullock who forgoes all her usual movie star charm for an endless longing.
Perhaps the movie feels shallow because it doesn't devote itself to observing the suffering of 9/11 victims; instead attempting to find the universal in the specific, but touching a subject of that magnitude would always mean that catharsis would be impossible. Curiously to try and find answers within the movie would mean that audiences were recreating Oskar's journey, aiming for something higher than they can accomplish. Whether they take this journey with predisposed anger or hoping for the best and preparing for the worst is up to each of them.

Sheet-y Saturday.

Where we take a look at posters for upcoming features.

The entire internet was buzzing this week with the first trailer for the Oscar-baity Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Most of the news surrounded three people Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock and Stephen Daldry. Which is why you just have to love that they're not even in the poster!
The title placement, the subtle font and the whole layout makes this seem more interesting than it has any right to be. If you got two Oscar winners and still focus on the new face, you must have something interesting cooking up, no?

While Watching the European Film Awards...

For those who think the Golden Globes are awkward, the European Film Awards' ceremony would result in the strangest beast of them all.
I had never seen them until yesterday afternoon and while the European Academy hasn't gained the worldwide recognition the Cannes, Venice and Berlin Film Festivals have, they have been doing some remarkable work for the past two decades.
Their picks in any year make AMPAS look like they're rewarding high school productions, alas still nothing in the world compares to the glitz and glamor of Oscar so let's move on...
These are things that caught my eye about the ceremony:


Danny Boyle, who's still collecting awards for "Slumdog Millionaire" looked so confused the whole evening!
I mean it's understandable when the ceremony has no real official language-there were speeches in at least four different languages, with no subtitles-and Boyle seemed like he didn't even know when they were talking to him.
When "Slumdog" won People's Choice, he was applauding excitedly until someone pointed out to him that he should be onstage accepting the award...

David Kross, who was nominated for Best Actor in "The Reader" embodied that sort of effortless, I-hate-you-for-it sexiness that people in our continent work so hard to achieve.

Kate Winslet won Best Actress for "The Reader" and since she wasn't there, director Stephen Daldry accepted on her behalf.
I hate when nominees don't attend ceremonies. The Actress category featured Winslet, Penélope Cruz and Charlotte Gainsbourg, none of whom attended. Even the host made a joke out of it pointing out how they were such terrific actresses they could even play invisible women.

The weirdest part of the whole thing was how instead of an orchestra they featured a band called Bauhouse who used film clips, music and words to create completely new musical pieces.
The campiest of them all featured Marlene Dietrich, with whom they created a trip-hoppy, oddly sexy piece of post modernist music.
This use of classics: sacrilege or genius?

Isabelle Huppert got a World Cinema Award and upon starting her speech and wondering what language to speak in she declared "cinema is the language of Europe".
She's perfection!

David Kross, and his iPhone, looked so good...

Look at the nominees for Best Director! Michael Haneke won for "The White Ribbon", but just wow!

The Europeans are not afraid to show explicit stuff on TV. They even go for full frontal in the clips featuring the nominees.
Can you imagine that ever happening at Oscar?
The FCC would implode!

Anthony Dod Mantle who won Best Cinematographer for "Slumdog Millionaire" and "Antichrist", wasn't in the ceremony and sent a weird taped speech.
However after the clip ended, they still went ahead and called Danny Boyle to accept the award for him. Danny of course had no idea what was going on...

Michael Haneke's "The White Ribbon" swept the awards. Gotta love the look on the presenters' faces as they obviously don't understand his speech.

When AMPAS fears anything Sean Penn has to say (tape delay was invented just for him) the EFA's went ahead and featured a commercial starring him!
It didn't happen during a break, they actually announced they would air a commercial in the middle of the ceremony and gave path to Penn's World Food Program ad which criticizes the bail outs and the Iraq invasion openly.
Then they proceeded to cheer it.

Why aren't all screenwriters as handsome as this one?

See what I mean about Kross?

Michael Haneke accepting the award for Best Film.
I really can't wait to see "The White Ribbon".

The Reader ****

Director: Stephen Daldry
Cast: Kate Winslet, Ralph Fiennes, David Kross
Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Volker Bruch, Lena Olin

Exploring the notions of guilt, emotional restraint, literature and survival, Stephen Daldry's "The Reader" reaffirms the director's ability to deliver films that are capable of serving as erudite, if sometimes too cerebral, essays, emotional time bombs or both.
Mostly set in Germany, the plot centers on the life of Michael who as an older man (Fiennes) reflects on his past and remembers the summer when he was fifteen (played by Kross who is a true revelation) and met Hanna Schmitz (Winslet), a tram conductor in her mid thirties who in a way exerted great power over his entire life.
After she aided him when he got sick on his way home, the two began an affair during which he explored his blossoming sexuality with the older woman, who asked nothing in return but to have books read out loud for her.
One day when he goes to her apartment, Michael discovers that Hanna has disappeared; he sees her again almost ten years later when, as a law student, he attends a trial against Nazi criminals where Hanna is one of the accused.
Still hurt from the way she abandoned him years before and somewhat disgusted by the fact that he loved someone who might've murdered people in concentration camps, Michael comes to an ethical and moral dilemma when he realizes he has information that might change the course of Hanna's verdict.
But "The Reader" isn't half as easy to absorb as a synopsis would have it seem, its implications go deeper and touch on several levels of humanity and even the lack of it.
"The notion of secrecy is central to Western literature" exclaims one of Michael's professors, "you may say the whole idea of character is defined by people holding specific information which for various reasons, sometimes perverse sometimes noble, they are determined not to disclose."
Based on the brilliant book by Bernhard Schlink, the film adaptation is above all a fascinating ode to literature and how we write other people's roles in our own (his)story.
Not in a fantastic way, but as in the means we have of perceiving others. Hanna therefore switches from being "heroine" and "villain" to Michael who as a kid worships her, but during the trial seems to understand her strange behavior (even their sex life "first you read to me, then we make love" was like a regime of sorts) while abhorring her existence and their relationship.
During one chilling scene Michael learns how Hanna chose the people she'd sent off to kill; she'd usually go for young, vulnerable, sickly types who read out loud to her and actually thought they'd be safe as long as they stayed under her care. For the witnesses, the mere idea sounds perverse and evil, to Michael however it's even more affecting because he sees himself as those victims: in a way he played their very role.
Several situations within the film lead to various degrees of "reading" and none dare to proclaim they have an absolute truth.
Among these situations is the idea of Nazism itself, "The Reader" isn't about the Holocaust or good vs. evil within this context; it elevates itself in order to cast a wider net of possibilities.
Notice how there is nary a sign or symbol of Nazism in the entire movie, we never see a single swastika or any sort of extermination footage a la "Sophie's Choice". The only time we even see a concentration camp is when Michael visits one, but consider how if we didn't know the context it could appear to be an empty warehouse.
We never see Hanna wearing an SS uniform or killing anyone, but like Michael we're led to draw our own conclusions ignoring her "big" secret (a twist of sorts that is brilliantly underplayed by a masterful editing job) one that may not absolve or justify her, but definitely casts her under a different light.
In the film's most haunting moment, Hanna attends the day of the trial when she will be sentenced. She wears a dark suit and tie that give the illusion of a severe uniform; upon entering the room she is welcomed by cries of "Nazi!" and boos from the crowd, who in her sober dress choice detect perverse defiance. Their case of imaginary Nazi imagery is only more affecting because it serves as a bleak metaphor for what has remained the "elephant in the room" for entire generations and a whole country.
It's been made a standard of sorts by the media to assume that Jews were the only victims of the Holocaust, and while their extermination is one of the darkest pages in history, little has been made about the consequences it had on others, least of all Germans.
Touching the subject of German Holocaust guilt is certainly quite uncommon and doing so by using a highly sexual, seemingly shallow analogy might not be the easiest choice, but by reducing two extremes to just people, the film is able to encompass more than it appears to be doing.
This is anchored by the sublime performance by Kate Winslet who doesn't care if the audience likes Hanna or not as long as she remains true to herself.
The actress, known for her colorful performances usually playing rebellious characters, gives Hanna an affecting, pragmatic dignity.
When she engages in the affair with Michael, she doesn't allow her to ask if what she's doing is right, for Hanna sex is something natural and sometimes she hints at vulnerability by the fact that her detachment is perhaps the only way she knows of providing love.
In the trial scenes, where Hanna only speaks when questioned, Winslet's eyes are filled with rage, confusion and despair; but the cold, commanding way in which she delivers her lines offer something quite different.
When confronted by the judge about her actions while working for the SS, she asks "what would you have done?", for Hanna the question is logical, for those listening to her it's the justification of a monster. Winslet turns her character into an unkowing seductress who remains ignorant of her effect on people, not because she plays the fool, but precisely because she allows others to project themselves into her.
It's remarkable that by film's end it's almost impossible to describe Hanna, because calling her a martyr, victim, villain, criminal, monster or any other adjective would be reducing her to an archetype and to do so would imply that you're also limiting the events she was involved in to a cliché situation with just two possible outcomes and instantly recognizable motives.
By making Hanna Schmitz someone you could actually love Winslet delivers one of the greatest performances of her career.
It's not an accident then that the film doesn't highlight the May/December nature of Hanna and Michael's affair (age of consent in Germany is much lower than 18), most of the audience after all will choose to understand this is wrong, or will they?
The movie daringly pushes the audience to ask themselves who are they to condemn and to judge. Why is one crime bigger than another? Why are some people more vulnerable than others? Was Hanna being a patriot by serving the SS? Who makes up the rules for things that happen after wars? What exactly makes Hanna guiltier than Michael?
"How do you know when you've no idea what it means?" asks Michael to Hanna after she declares a line in Greek to be beautiful. This simple truth can also be applied to the larger shape of things.
Not so surprisingly as it approaches its end the film seems to return to its literary source by becoming cyclical (Michael becoming as impenetrable as Hanna). It almost ends where it starts, offering more questions than answers.
As the older Michael, infused with a sterile conviction and guilt by Fiennes, approaches a Holocaust survivor (a superbly complex Olin who shines in one scene) you sense there is still a disconnection with the past and present (which might be hard to fathom for some viewers but actually plays a significant role in creating the whole mood of the film, while enhancing the theory of German survivor guilt).
It should result ironic that this woman, who wrote the book that helped convict Hanna, seems to have no grasp of the fact that she also might have aided in the imparting of injustice.
Perhaps another film would've attached these scenes with facile, didactic resolutions and moral compromises, "The Reader" doesn't even try, instead offering yet another intellectual dilemma by forcing us to wonder if lives can ever be summed up by words.