Pop Expressions

Quentin Tarantino is one of the most recognizable directors working today, both in name and style. His character driven films laced with coarse but realistic dialogue and his use of obscure pop culture references have redefined the concept of cool, but his success has not come without controversy. Tarantino frequently borrows shots, plot concepts, music, and pieces of dialogue from his favorite films and incorporates them into his own creations. Critics say that these actions come dangerously close to plagiarism and leave his work devoid of substance, while supporters argue that he is a post-modern artist who borrows old defunct forms and creates new and meaningful things from their parts. Tarantino is neither of those things. He expresses himself with what he’s learned from films because to him they are as or more important than reality; Tarantino can only speak the language of pop.

Years before his sudden rise as an iconic director, Tarantino struggled with his education. His dyslexia made him continuously frustrated with school and caused him to retreat further into his world of movies. Tarantino dropped out in the ninth grade to pursue an acting career. Bored with reality, his escape to Hollywood was his chance to merge real life with his obsession with films. Ultimately failing as an actor, Tarantino got a job at a video store in Manhattan Beach, California.

All day long in this bastion of cinema, Tarantino was free to watch and discuss his favorite movies with co-workers and get paid for it. In his book, “What Happens Next?” a history of American screenwriting, Marc Norman pictures Tarantino as a feral child let loose in the library of Alexandria. Tarantino didn’t go to film school like the generation of directors before him that includes Spielberg, Scorsese, and Coppola. His education was pieced together from films as varied as classic John Ford westerns to cheap, underground, Filipino horror flicks.

Using this encyclopedic knowledge of films, Tarantino first broke into movies with his underground hit “Reservoir Dogs.” He is credited with popularizing the Independent Film movement of the 90’s after the mega success of “Pulp Fiction,” his second feature, in 1994. It became the first Indie movie to gain over $100 million dollars domestically. Because of its success, big Hollywood studios began to buy out smaller Indie outfits and give them larger budgets, following the lead of Disney’s acquisition of Miramax. Harvey Weinstein, co-owner of Miramax, has referred to his company as, “the house that Quentin built.”

Tarantino can’t help but reference his influences in his work. Watching a Tarantino movie is like several lessons in pop culture. The film might be “Reservoir Dogs” where the topic of discussion is the meaning of Madonna’s lyrics in “Like a Virgin”, or “Kill Bill” and its scene that analyzes the virtues of Superman. Someone who shares his obsession with film might notice the several shots he borrows from various directors, or that the yellow track suit Uma Thurman wears in “Kill Bill” is the same that Bruce Lee wore in his final movie. Tarantino builds his film’s narrative structures around a multitude of such references, both topical and obscure, to varying degrees of success.

Daniel Mendelsohn, in his review of “Kill Bill” for The New York Books Review, compares watching a Tarantino film to being stuck “in a room with someone who, like so many of this director's characters, can't stop talking about the really neat parts in the movies he's seen. This is entertaining if you share his mania, but if you don't, he ends up being a bore.”

For fans that do share his mania, Tarantino has even begun to reference his own work for their viewing pleasure. The fictional brand of cigarettes he used in “Pulp Fiction,” Red Apple Cigarettes, has made an appearance in both “Kill Bill” and his latest work, “Death Proof.” In Tarantino’s twisted logic the name of a group of Mexican gangsters from “Kill Bill,” the Acuna boys, reappears as a chain of Mexican restaurants in “Death Proof.”

The great success of Tarantino’s films is evidence that a large chunk of America does share his mania for pop culture. In the final scene of “Pulp Fiction”, Jules tells Vincent that he’s quitting their life of crime because of his brush with the divine. When asked what he’s going to do with himself, Jules references a popular show from the 70’s, and says that he is “going to walk the earth, like Kane in KungFu.” This exchange, according to Stanley Crouch in his essay, “Blues in more than one color: The films of Quentin Tarantino,” shows “Tarantino’s understanding of how deep human reactions can be inspired by pulp; those who experience such reactions can be inspired by pulp; those who experience such reactions may only be able to describe them to others in the lingua franca of pulp.” Like the character’s he creates, and probably some of his fans, Tarantino isn’t able to express himself any other way.

Casting a President

Alessandra Stanley has a big problem with “John Adams”, a new historical HBO mini-series. She argues that Paul Giamatti is the wrong actor for the title part in an otherwise exceptional production, and that a “different one might have made “John Adams” great.” The problem with Stanley’s review is that she doesn’t convince me of this claim.

In paragraph seven she jokes that Giamatti looks like Shrek in “18^th century britches and wigs”, but then four paragraphs down she contradicts herself, writing that “it’s not a question of looks.” The only other example of Giamatti’s inadequacy that she provides is to say that he doesn’t make Adam’s “traits stand out distinctly enough.” She then negatively compares Giamatti to a 40 year old portrayal of Adams by William Daniels in a production of the musical “1776.” This comparison excludes anyone younger than 50, and also miss-leadingly compares the role of John Adams in two thematically different works. The rest of her piece is well written, but her failure to back her arguments with compelling evidence undermines her review.

Adding Something New

Ed Siegel’s profile of Michael Jackson is interesting and well crafted. It doesn’t become the garish piece on Jackson that it could have easily been, but instead seeks out an answer to how “the Prince of Pop became the King of Fools”. Siegel is sympathetic to Jackson who was never “prepared to be a player in the media universe.” He compares him to other icons whose personal lives have imploded, and then he transitions into an examination of our obsession with celebrities.

The profile starts with an illuminating lede about Jackson’s interest in the Elephant Man. Siegel immediately sets the tone and discusses Jackson’s erratic behavior early in the article. He knows that he must include coverage of the recent controversies, but by getting it out of the way first he frees himself to make broader points with his piece. This is a good model for any critical celebrity profile. The thoughts flow well and the transitions between paragraphs are smooth. It succeeds at saying something new about Jackson who has been a media event for a long time.

QT final project

Quentin Tarantino is one of the most recognizable directors working today, both in name and style. His character driven films laced with coarse but realistic dialogue and his use of obscure pop culture references have redefined the concept of cool, but his success has not come without controversy. Tarantino frequently borrows shots, plot concepts, and pieces of dialogue from his favorite films and incorporates them into his own creations. His critics say that these actions come dangerously close to plagiarism and leave his work devoid of substance. Those in support of the director argue that he’s a post-modern artist who borrows old defunct forms and creates new and meaningful things from their parts.

Tarantino is credited with popularizing the Independent film movement of the 90’s after the mega success of Pulp Fiction in 1994. Once it became the first Indie movie to gain over $100 million dollars domestically, big Hollywood studios began to buy out smaller Indie outfits and give them larger budgets, following the lead of Disney’s acquisition of Miramax. In an interview Harvey Weinstein (the co-owner of Miramax), referred to his company as, “The house that Quentin built.”

After years of frustration at school because of a struggle with dyslexia, Tarantino dropped out in the ninth grade to pursue an acting career. Bored with reality, his escape to Hollywood was his chance to merge his obsession with films to real life. Ultimately failing as an actor, Tarantino got a job at a video store in Manhattan Beach, California.

In his book, “What Happens Next?” a history of American screenwriting, Marc Norman pictures Tarantino as a feral child let loose in the library of Alexandria. All day long Tarantino was free to watch and discuss his favorites with co-workers in this bastion of cinema and get paid to do it. Tarantino didn’t go to film school like the generation of directors before him. (Spielberg, Scorsese, and Copolla) His education was pieced together from a horde of cheap flicks from around the world.

Watching a Tarantino movie is like a lesson in pop culture. The film might be Reservoir Dogs where the topic of discussion is the meaning of Madonna’s lyrics in Like a Virgin, or Kill Bill and its analysis of the virtues of Superman. Tarantino builds his narrative structure around a multitude of such references in his films to, depending on your opinion, varying degrees of success.

Daniel Mendelsohn reviewing Kill Bill for The New York Review of Books, compares watching a Tarantino film to being stuck, “in a room with someone who, like so many of this director's characters, can't stop talking about the really neat parts in the movies he's seen. This is entertaining if you share his mania, but if you don't, he ends up being a bore.”

The great success of Tarantino’s films is evidence that a large chunk of America does share his mania for pop culture. One example of this is Family Guy, partly influenced by Tarantino’s style. It is a spliced together, unfunny, reference heavy, animated show that takes the best of others ideas and diffuses them in cheap jokes until they lose all relevance. The show lacks any real substance and could only be popular with those who place a higher value on style rather than substance. (Or those with nothing better to watch at 3 in the morning) To fans that share the same mindset as Tarantino accusations of plagiarism are not taken seriously because things you learn from films and other media are more important than what happens in real life.

Or maybe the two are indistinguishable? In the final scene of Pulp Fiction, Jules tells Vincent that he’s quitting their life of crime because of his brush with the divine. When asked what he’s going to do with himself, Jules references a popular show from the 70’s saying that he is, “going to walk the earth, like Kane in Kung Fu.” Stanley Crouch writes in his essay, “Blues in more than one color: The films of Quentin Tarantino” that this exchange shows, “Tarantino’s understanding of how deep human reactions can be inspired by pulp; those who experience such reactions can be inspired by pulp; those who experience such reactions may only be able to describe them to others in the lingua franca of pulp.”

[Unfinished]

A Disjointed Oscars

The fate of the Oscars depended on the resolution of the writer’s strike, which had threatened to do to Oscar what it did to the Golden Globes, turn it into a glorified press conference. The strike was resolved just a week ago, and John Stewart was called in to try and helm an awards show that usually took months to prepare. Without the time to organize all the usual comedy bits and performances, this year’s Oscars were puffed up with unnecessary montages and interviews of past winners.

Last night ended up looking like a glorified clips show instead of the glamorous Oscars of better years. Stewart joked that if the strike hadn’t of been resolved there would have been even more gratuitous montages, like one on binoculars and periscopes in film. The joke was too close to the truth when thirty minutes later Jack Nicholson presented yet another painful slide show of all 79 past Best Picture winners. On top of this every segment of the show was ended with interviews of past winners. These weren’t all bad and it was cool to hear from Sydney Poitier, and Steven Spielberg, but was an interview of Elton John really necessary?

No Country for Old Men won the biggest awards of the night and the filmmaking duo behind it, the Coen brothers, took home Oscars for Best Picture, Directing, and Adapted Screenplay. The other best picture nominees all won at least one statue: Cinematography and Best Actor for Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood, Original Screenplay for Juno, Best Supporting Actress for Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton, and Best Original Score for Atonement.

The male acting awards went to the heavy favorites of Daniel Day-Lewis and Javier Bardem, but the women’s categories were surprises. Tilda Swinton and Marion Cotillard beat out the expected winners, Cate Blanchett and Julie Christie. Cotillard’s acceptance speech for Best Actress was the most moving of the night. Overwhelmed with gratitude and near tears she told the Academy, “You’ve rocked my life” and said there are still, “some angels in this city.” Cotillard won both the British and French versions of the Oscars for her role as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose.

The musical performances of the nominees for Best Original Song were mediocre and looked slapped together. The only good performance of the night came from the eventual winners, Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, for their work on Falling Slowly from Once. The song was beautifully enhanced with an orchestra, and Irglova was given a historic second chance to deliver her acceptance speech after having been played off by the orchestra.

The comedy bits (what few there were) with Stewart and other Hollywood stars were excellent this year considering the time constraints, and if the montages had been cut out, we would have been left with a shorter but better quality Oscars. Instead this year’s show was lumbering and disjointed.

Cheap and Easy Writing

In Politics and the English Language, George Orwell gripes about the state of modern writing that at its worst, “consists of gumming together long strips of words which have already been set in order by someone else.” Orwell values precision and detail in good writing, and is angered with the prevalence of tired metaphors and readymade phrases that either don’t mean what the author intends or don’t mean anything at all. This type of, “lifeless, imitative style” he compares to politics and political writings in which everyone but a few brave rebels follow the same party line. They use the same language and phrases, and come of as copies of one another. Orwell is also bugged by the pretentious use of fancy words with Latin or Greek roots; he prefers humbler Anglo-Saxon words. Despite his complaining he admits that he has, “committed the very faults he is protesting against.” I agree with Orwell’s thesis that there is a tradition of common metaphors and lifeless writing, but this is not something unique to the modern age; its human nature to imitate. The English Language isn’t in a state of crisis; most writers are just a little lazy.

NYT Defense: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Ben Brantley has been a theater critic at the New York Times for 15 years and chief theater critic for 12. He is in his 50’s and has a long list of writing credits including Elle, The New Yorker, and Vanity Fair. Brantley’s prominence as a critic is validated by his superbly written review of a new version of Macbeth. This incarnation of the Scottish Play features Patrick Stewart, best known as Captain Luc Picard from Star Trek, in the title role. The lead is a poetic interpretation of the forces at work in Macbeth’s mind. It is aesthetically pleasing, but it is also practical and sets up Brantley’s thorough analysis of Stewart’s performance. The review flows well and the transition from Stewart’s performance to an analysis of the set is smooth. The imagery that Brantley uses captures the feel and themes of the play. The “but” comes in the middle of the article where Brantley deems some of the director’s touches, “unnecessary and obstructive.” However, in a rare double “but”, he praises the fine cast in the next paragraph and the rest of the review is positive.

http://theater2.nytimes.com/2008/02/15/theater/reviews/15macb.html?pagewanted=1&sq=something%20wicked%20this%20way%20comes&st=nyt&scp=1

Mutual Misery

The marriages in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? are fueled and maintained by alcohol, bitterness, delusions, and lies. One peculiar night after George and Martha have come home from a university party and are settling into their nightly routine of drunkenly tearing each other down, Martha informs George that she has invited a newly employed professor and his young wife over for drinks. George is a history professor and married to Martha, the daughter of the university president. Over the course of the night the years of deception reach a breaking point, and by sunrise the fantasies that are holding up both of the marriages have been shattered.

The leads are excellent and have a raw chemistry together. Richard Philpot is George, a smart middle-aged man who has been defeated by his wife, career, and father-in-law but wears this as a badge of honor. Martie Groat Philpot is especially good as Martha, a sexy, blunt, and spunky woman.

George and Martha love to hurt and be hurt by one another. When George complains about the treatment he’s receiving from Martha she replies, “You can stand it, you married me for it! My arm is tired of whipping you.” They primarily use sex to wound one another and much of the script is laced with sexual dialogue. When Martha tries to seduce the young Nick into dancing with her, George warns that the dance Martha wants from him, “is a very old dance, as old as they come.”

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is performed in a simple black box theater. The audience surrounds the stage on all four sides giving the play an intimate quality, but this also has some technical drawbacks. (I got stuck sitting behind a coat rack for the first act.) The set is a living room from the 60’s complete with ugly couches and a full bar to keep the night going.

The actors who play the younger couple, Nick and Honey, are obviously not as experienced as the two leads. In a show where the cast is only four this sours some of the enjoyment of the show and makes certain scenes painful to watch. Carol Zombro goes overboard in exaggerating Honey’s ditzy qualities and comes off like a two year old. But even though her character is over the top at least she’s consistent with her performance. Trevor Maher who plays Nick is not consistent at all. There was nothing that suggested internal motivation, and he over enunciated all of his lines. Also he physically did not look like the all-American hunk that the script kept suggesting he was.

The play ends powerfully with Martha telling the guests about her and George’s son while George reads from a Latin catechism. Martha’s story and George’s chanting merge into the chaotic litany that has kept their dysfunctional marriage together for so long.

On the Couch

Gabriel Byrne has the perfect analyst’s voice, soft and inquisitive. He works his patients over with it, guiding and goading them into revealing the hidden truths of their troubles both to him and to themselves. The soft voice contrasts with the hard angles of his face, but are alike in that they are both totally neutral. His patients would be surprised if they knew what he really thought of them.

The new HBO show In Treatment examines not only the dynamics between a psychoanalyst and his patients, but what the constant stresses and pressures of being the voice of reason can do to a person. The show runs from Monday to Friday, chronicling Paul’s (Gabriel Byrne) sessions with different patients on the first four days of the week and culminating in his own session with his psychoanalyst Gina on Friday. Each episode is thirty minutes long.

Although In Treatment does not have the intimate sex scenes of Tell Me You Love Me, the other popular psychoanalyses show on HBO, the revealing confessions between patient and analyst can be just as effecting. Paul’s Monday patient is Laura, a romantically confused beautiful twenty something with a bad case of erotic transference (she is in love with her shrink). She has just left her long-time boyfriend and has impulsively had a fling with a guy at a bar. When Laura begins to tell Paul about following the guy back to the bathroom, her body language changes subtly; she tenses up, and makes bold eye contact with Paul. Melissa George who plays Laura does an excellent job of creating that sexual tension.

At times the writing of the show is contrived. The patient’s problems are annoyingly straightforward and far removed from the actual problems of real-life patients. But then again, all television shows are a little contrived, and the occasional glimpses of the manufactured storyline are made up for by the exceptional acting of the cast.

The Friday sessions between Paul and Gina are the most interesting of the series. These two have a complicated history including a falling out, and the tension from this is present in their session. Byrne drops his guard and unmutes himself. He reveals that he is losing his patience with his patients and having a professional crisis. He also admits that his work is interfering with his home life. Paul and Gina are expert analysts, and their professional rivalry as well as their past makes the meeting ugly. Paul says that Gina was right in the past when she said that the problem is they have no audience, and that he feels like he needs someone to tell, “Hey, did you see how I maneuvered that guy?” Gina responds, “What I meant was, we have no critics.”

The critic as artist

The Critic as Artist corresponds with Wilde’s personal philosophy of aestheticism, and art for art’s sake, but at times I think he was being coy about it and poking fun at himself. He makes meaningful points, that the highest form of Criticism, “really is, the record of one’s own soul”, and that the, “sole aim (of the critic) is to chronicle his own impressions. It is for him that pictures are painted, books written, and marble hewn into form.” These idealistic but well argued points are balanced with witty, outrageous lines like, “We live…in the age in which people are so industrious that they become absolutely stupid. The sure way of knowing nothing about life is to try to make oneself useful.”, or when he writes that, “Anybody can make history. Only a great man can write it.” These statements are ridiculous, but instead of undermining Wilde’s arguments they have the strange effect of reinforcing it. By admitting how ridiculous some of his arguments are about criticism and art, Wilde reveals that while his passion for it is great he also doesn’t take himself too seriously.

Critique of Pauline Kael

Pauline Kael was the first to transcend the role of critic and became famous in her own right. She attracted a dedicated fan base that followed her unique and sharply written opinions on film, and influenced a generation of critics during her time at The New Yorker from 1968 to 1991. Because of this mini cult of personality that arose around Pauline, and the corrupting power that came with it, her writing became overly aggressive and downright mean. Often she used her reviews as a soapbox for things that were going on in American culture at the time rather than what was actually going on in the film.

One of the problems with Pauline’s writing is that she will frequently employ a badgering tone that implies that if you disagree with her you are an idiot. Not only does she attack the film for being worthless; she will mock its audience. In her review of Hiroshima Mon Amour she rhetorically asks, “Was it possibly an elaborate, masochistic fantasy for intellectuals?”, and later she sarcastically generalizes that the audience for the film, “feels virtuous because they want to buy peace.”

She also can be unnecessarily mean and degrading to people in or who worked on the films she is reviewing. In her review of Top Gun Kael devotes the entire opening paragraph to making fun of Tom Cruise’s height. A brief mention of the humorous image of Kelly McGillis adjusting to the short Cruise would have been sufficient, but she devotes nine lines to humiliating him. Her language in describing sexuality is crude for the sake of shocking the reader, like in her review of Silkwood, where she writes that Kurt Russell, “demonstrates the very latest in gentle, good-animal lovemaking.” A sex scene in any film is a risk for the actor and requires a lot of bravery; it doesn’t deserve smirking comments like this.

Kael was often accused of writing about everything but the movie. In her long review of Hiroshima Mon Amour she only spends a third of the review writing about the actual film. The rest is about her perception of art-house snobbery.

Renata Adler, who also worked at The New Yorker, is one of Kael’s biggest critics. She believes that Kael’s work, “embodies something appalling and widespread in the culture”, and that her, “quirks, mannerisms, tactics, and excesses have also proved contagious, so that the content and level of critical discussion, of movies but also of other forms, have been altered astonishingly for the worse.”

JERRY!, JERRY!

The Jerry Springer Show is the grand daddy of the recent crop of exploitative and outrageous reality TV shows like Flavor of Love or American Idol. I remember growing up and giggling whenever I caught my grandparents or parents watching the Springer Show. They would always quickly change the channel and grumble about the crap on TV nowadays. The reasons I think these types of shows are so popular is one, the glee that comes from watching the train wreck of these peoples lives or performances, but also a recognition that these people really aren’t so far off from the rest of us. Today’s NY Times ran a hilarious and intriguing cover story on “Jerry Springer: The Opera”, that opened for a two show run recently in New York. A project like this could have easily been a series of dirty jokes and foul language sung in operatic voices, but the writer contends that the show, “finds the sublime in the squalid”, and that, “audience members bring their own irony, if they like; the performances are totally free of it”. I’d love to get the chance to see this musical, but unfortunately protests by Christian groups might scare away potential investors for a prolonged Broadway run.

Sing Your Melody

Working on a budget of only $160,000, Director John Carney crafts a beautiful film about the creation of music and unpredictability of love. Once is a musical without any glamour or kitsch, and is acted by professional musicians who do not have any experience in film. This organic approach to filmmaking heightens the emotional impact and realism of the film.

Known in the script only as guy and girl, Glen Hansard of the Irish band the Frames and Marketa Irglova play a Dublin street singer and a Czech immigrant who meet by chance. They connect as struggling artists with dreams of success and as lonely hearts in a dreary city. Over the course of a week they write, record, and fall in love.

The music in the film was written and performed by Hansard and Irglova. The tunes are simple but poignant, and coupled with lyrics that are smart and moving. They sing about the pitfalls and glories of love in aching voices. The songs are increasingly about their relationship with each other as they create music, like when Hansard croons, “Slowly sing your melody, I'll sing along.” The film is shot in a handheld style that compliments the music; both feel rough and slightly unfinished. The musical and visual styles provide an insight into the ugly beauty of creation.

Hansard and Irglova actually did fall in love while filming and the sincerity of their feelings is obvious. The romance of Once is even more real when compared with the leading man/ leading lady induced chemistry of Hollywood films. One bittersweet scene where they ride a motorcycle to a cliff overlooking the city is especially moving. They finally confront their feelings for one another awkwardly and indirectly, but leave the most important things unsaid. The things unspoken and unsung in Once are as important as what is heard on-screen.

In the end the lovers are not drawn apart by tragic circumstances, but by something just as tragic, reality.

A Speechless Oscars

Today’s front page article of the Arts section announced this years Oscar nominees. I’ve only seen one of the nominated films for Best Picture, but that’s not the only reason why I’m not excited about the Oscars this year. The ongoing writer’s strike means that this years Oscars will probably be like the Golden Globes, an awards ceremony with no presenters or recipients. The writer’s strike has already forced some of my favorite shows into a hiatus and flooded the networks with crap-reality shows. Now it’s threatening my favorite event of the year. Thanks for kicking me when I’m down writer’s strike. The dispute between the writer’s and the networks is over residual money for internet content, something that I think they deserve, but I wish I didn’t have to become collateral damage in their bidding war.

Steinem and the Election

My responses to Gloria Steinem’s questions at the beginning of her article were both yeses. Her point of anonymously presenting Barack Obama’s biography except with a change of sex, and then asking if this seemed like a viable candidate didn’t convince me of any gender bias. It wasn’t until the end of the article when she made several points that I began to see her side of it. Steinem gave five convincing examples in short paragraphs of how Hillary Clinton’s campaign was being affected by a gender bias both in the media and with the voters. One of them was about how women in their 50’s and 60’s disproportionately supported Hillary in their votes, while younger women who, “hope to deny or escape the sexual caste system” were more evenly split amongst the candidates. This made me wonder if the reason why I answered yes to both her questions was because I either was blind to or denied the presence of sexual prejudice. Is it progress that the younger generation doesn’t think about gender in this way, or have we collectively decided just not to deal with the issue?

Writing About ‘Writing About the Arts’

I found this excerpt very helpful and insightful, especially examining the differences between reviews and criticism. I also appreciated the humor in the writing that could have easily been very tedious reading. As I read Zinsser’s advice and guidelines for good review writing, I kept cringing thinking about the review of Sweeney Todd and how many of his rules I’d broken, among them: don’t give away too much of the plot, use specific detail, avoid ecstatic adjectives (clichés), and express your opinion firmly. I absolutely agreed with his take about, “last minute evasions and escapes”, and how this can be the, “most boring sentence of the editorial”. It’s a trend that I’ve noticed in many articles yet I still did the same thing in the Sweeny review. After reading this the idea of writing the much more complex criticisms seems daunting since I’m not an expert in any of the arts, and I feel much safer writing reviews. The only way I could write criticism would be to do research in the medium I’m writing on, but that would be defeating the purpose since the critique is supposed to be a unique opinion from the critic.

Lift Your Razor High, Sweeney!

The latest Tim Burton/ Johnny Depp film is a great achievement on the surface. Its visuals are gorgeous and signature Burton, pale faces, quirky characters, and drab settings. The acting is fantastic, and the music is super-catchy but not tacky, and sure to follow you home. But despite its strengths, Sweeney Todd never reached that higher plane of a great film. It doesn’t register emotionally and because of that the film was instantly forgettable. It was like one of Mrs. Lovett’s delicious meat pies, deceptively tasty until you start to wonder about that queer aftertaste.

Frequent collaborators Burton and Depp seem like the natural choice to helm the film version of the ghoulish Stephen Sondheim musical, Sweeney Todd the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Burton has a track record of moody, atmospheric films loaded with dark comedy, and he works wonders with the blood soaked script for Sweeney. The reprise of “Johanna” where Todd slits the throat of customer after customer is at once shocking, horrid, and unbelievably funny. Depp certainly looks the part of the tortured Sweeney, and even though his singing isn’t spectacular, he makes up for it with the conviction that he puts into his voice along with a touch of rock and roll.

Depp’s opposite Helen Bonham Carter is sensational as Mrs. Lovett. She steals every scene that she’s in and is the most sympathetic character. Mrs. Lovett is every bit as horrible a person as Sweeney, but Carter was still able to play that wretchedness along with a touching humanity. The best songs in the film were her duets with Depp like the hilarious “A Little Priest” where they imagine the possibilities of her meat pies and also her solo song, the show stopping number “By the Sea” a whimsical imagining of married life with Todd.

After a satisfying build up the film loses its momentum and ends disappointingly and anti-climactically. Burton spends so much time on the film working the revenge angle, that when Judge Turpin finally and gloriously takes his seat in the barber’s chair it feels like the natural ending point of the film. Depp’s performance is remarkable but there isn’t much there besides his captivating obsession with revenge, and because of that the next 20 minutes feel tacked on and slowly drain the excitement from the film. As with the stage version of Sweeney Todd, and for any good show or film, the audience needs to be emotionally impacted by the characters and should care about their fate. Even in a monster like Todd, there has to be a redeeming quality to keep interest high, especially in a title figure. Despite its flaws Sweeney Todd is one of the most interesting and enjoyable films of the year. It’s a must see if you are even a casual fan of musicals, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see it nominated come Oscar season.