Why I Hate El Clinto

But boy, was he handsome.

My fellow cineaste and dear friend Ken can't fathom why I cast such violent aspersions on the directorial career of Clint Eastwood, a man whom I consider highly overrated as an auteur. Ken makes a good point. Is El Clinto a hack of the magnitude of Joel Schumacher or Michael Bay? (nobody is a worse hack than Bay, except perhaps for Jon Avnet). I think the difference is not one of competence but one of temperament. The problem I have with El Clinto's movies is that they seem ponderous and pretentiously solemn. Hard as I try, I find it impossible to connect with them. I find them bone dry, stiff and clichéd. To be fair, I liked Letters from Iwo Jima. And I saw Changeling on a plane and, surprisingly, liked it, thought it was very effective. He gets good actors to do good work in scenery chompers that are more related to the world of movies than to the reality of flesh and blood. 
I find him nothing more than workmanlike. I find his movies are loaded with fake sentiment, as opposed to real emotion. And he has made an inordinate amount of  clunkers, like Invictus, or Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, among others. The sheer amount of mediocre work he's done has rarely stopped some critics from gushing (critics, and I don't use this line of argument lightly, who seem to be overwhelmingly male, white and square).  It's not El Clinto's fault that critics adore him without reservations. A. O. Scott had the audacity to be kind to Invictus. Roger Ebert tweets that Hereafter is not as bad as everybody says. They cut him way too much slack and I wonder why. Perhaps they are happy that a handsome, charismatic but not particularly good actor can direct halfway decently but with little imagination. Perhaps they identify with that.
Ken mentions Million Dollar Baby, Mystic River and Unforgiven. I saw all of them and believed none. Take Million Dollar Baby. Trite and conventional and with Morgan Freeman as the loyal black sidekick who sweeps the floor. A female Rocky, except that Rocky in its time was far more authentic and original. Unforgiven is a deeply hypocritical film that claims to abhor violence while it makes a big spectacle of it. I have no problem with violence in movies when it serves a dramatic purpose, but to use it to illustrate the point of how bad it is to use it is dishonest. I have to admit that I didn't dislike Mystic River. But I didn't love it either.
His movies do not speak to me at all. 

Moviegoing Etiquette

Here are some extra rules of moviegoing etiquette that are not advertised by the cinemas, but that everybody should follow in order to avoid me wanting to get a high powered rifle and blast your head off:

1.
No texting during the film.
2.
People with baseball caps or other headgear should remove it the minute the lights go down. The same goes for women with idiosyncratic hair a la Marge Simpson. Take it down. By the way, I hate adult men who wear baseball caps if they are not in the park or under the sun. Do grow up.
3.
There is absolutely no talking during the previews. Previews are like foreplay, almost as important as the movie.
4.
Although this is hard to enforce, tall people, people with big heads, or tall people with big heads, should have the courtesy of sitting in the back of the theater if said theater doesn't have stadium seating.
5.
If you are going to munch, do it discreetly.
6.
Do not bring your pastrami sandwich or your kung pao chicken to the movies. They reek.

Enjoy the show!

The Ten Best Latin American Films of the 2000s

Be sure to check out the first edition of the Cinema Tropical Awards this Friday.

I was very happy to have been asked to compile my list of the 10 best Latin American films of the last decade by Cinema Tropical, a worthy and serious organization devoted to promoting quality films from south of the border.
I am in the good company of a bunch of other cinephiles and cineastes. You can check out the winners and download all the lists at the link above.
Here's what I sent:

I was relieved that I could think of more than ten good Latin American films of the last decade. 

This could not have been easy 20 years ago.

The common thread in my selection is a group of talented Latin American filmmakers who are, first and foremost, masters of their craft and who are deeply invested in their social reality without ever falling into melodramatic excess. The list includes two established international talents, Lucrecia Martel, one of the best filmmakers in the world today, and Alfonso Cuarón. The rest are new filmmakers, both male and female, that show extraordinary promise. Fabián Bielinsky left us wondering what marvels he could have achieved with his impressive command of genre. 

All of them have a bracing inclination for aesthetic rigor and clear eyed intelligence.

LA CIÉNAGA (Lucrecia Martel, Argentina, 2001)

With a jaundiced eye and an amazing knack for atmosphere, Lucrecia Martel explores the complex dynamics of the provincial bourgeoisie in Argentina.

Y TU MAMÁ TAMBIÉN (Alfonso Cuarón, México, 2001)

Alfonso Cuarón shows his mastery at handling both farce and deep melancholy without sentimentality. The script is sharp, funny and subtly revealing of the contrasts in Mexican society.

THE HEADLESS WOMAN  (Lucrecia Martel, Argentina, 2008)

A woman is involved in a car accident; she is disoriented, then there is a coverup. Lucrecia Martel creates a richly layered physical, psychic and political world, that resonates beyond its provinical confines.

NINE QUEENS (Fabián Bielinsky, Argentina, 2000)

A fantastically taut, smart, crisp caper with fabulous twists and the magnificent, sullen sexiness of Ricardo Darín.

DUCK SEASON (Fernando Eimbcke, México, 2004)

Mexican teenagers bored out of their wits on a Sunday afternoon, reminiscent of Ozu. The work of a young filmmaker with plenty of style and delicate wisdom.

XXY (Lucía Puenzo, Argentina, 2007)

A strong, intelligent film about a teenage hermafrodite, XXY is the movie equivalent of tough love; fierce, unsentimental, compassionate and with a breakout performance by Inés Efrón. 

THE MAID (Sebastián Silva, Chile, 2009)

She lives among us! A psychologically astute film about a live-in maid, that staple of the Latin American upper classes’ happiness or dread. With a fearsome performance by Catalina Saavedra.

THE AURA (Fabián Bielinsky, Argentina, 2005)

A gorgeous, atmospheric noir that challenges convention by happening in a cabin in the Patagonian woods. Oodles of style.

TONY MANERO (Pablo Larraín, Chile)

A murderer dreams of becoming the best John Travolta impersonator during the Pinochet years. A chillingly original portrait of absolute moral rot.

LA ZONA (Rodrigo Plá, México)

Rich people literally fence themselves off the poverty around them, living in comfy, arrogant isolation in the middle of their own country. Mexico, in a nutshell.

Having said this, I also liked Martel's La Niña Santa, but I thought it shouldn't be a Martel monopoly. I also liked, less, Pablo Trapero's Leonera. I liked Cautiva, I sort of liked Whisky and Silent Light. 

 I did not include Amores Perros because I knew it was going to be on many of my colleagues' lists and I like Y Tú Mamá También better. I have not seen Fernando Eimbcke's Lake Tahoe, which made it to several lists. For the life of me, I don't understand why people like Pan's Labyrinth so much, but that's the beauty of film, hay de todo para todos.

Smartypants Spookfest

 
For your Halloween viewing consideration, that is in case you decide to stick around at home instead of traipsing around in a ridiculous costume (you know you are too old for that shit):

Spook Your Intellect:
• The Innocents (Jack Clayton, 1961) Fabulous adaptation of A Turn of The Screw, by Henry James. With Deborah Kerr as a governess that is going Britishly bonkers. The original "I see dead people".
• Don't Look Now (Nicholas Roeg, 1973) or, Dread in Venice. Donald Sutherland, Julie Christie, Venice and menace. What more could one want?
• Repulsion (Roman Polanski, 1965) Catherine Deneuve loses it and there is an uncooked rabbit in the fridge. Yum.
• The Tenant (Roman Polanski, 1976). Hell is the neighbors. And your own mind. 
• The Shout (Jerzy Skolimowski, 1978) with Alan Bates (need I say more?) Brownie points if you understand what's going on, but a classic of 70's atmosphere.
• Nosferatu (F.W Murnau, 1922; Werner Herzog, 1979). Max Schreck or Klaus Kinski?
Do them both!
• Dead Ringers (David Cronenberg, 1988). A blood-curling performance by Jeremy Irons as gynecologist twins. Your pap smears will never be the same.
• Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008). Let the right movie in. The original, not the remake. 
• Pretty much anything by David Lynch, the master of nightmarish kitsch.  Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive are my favorites, but Eraserhead could also do the trick.

Classics:
• Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1962). The one and only. You'll never trust a shower curtain ever again. (And Frenzy, and Rebecca, and The Birds, The Lodger... )
• The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980).
• Rosemary's Baby (Roman Polanski, 1968). This should be the It's A Wonderful Life of Halloween.
• Dead of Night (Alberto Cavalcanti, Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden, Robert Hamer, 1945) Four elegant, creepy stories, the best one being Michael Redgrave, ventriloquist and his evil dummy. Chucky is small potatoes.
• Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962). Super duper creepy B-movie.
• The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973) Garish and effective.
• Carrie (Brian de Palma, 1976). Nothing is scarier than adolescence. Do a double bill with Catherine Hardwicke's Thirteen. You see someone with acne and you will run for your life.

STSOOM (Scared The Shit Out Of Me): 
• The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1970)  Horribly horrible.
• Ringu (Hideo Nakata, 1998)
• The Sixth Sense (M. Night Shyamalan, 1999). It did, so sue me.
• The Orphanage (Juan Antonio Bayona, 2007).
• Paranormal Activity (Oren Peli, 2007). What can I say? I'm easy.

Got a beef with this list? Drop us a line in the comments.

On DVD: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

I first saw this movie from 1975 when I was about 12 years old. My mom had already seen it and loved it so much that she took me to see it with her. The guy at the entrance didn't want to let me in (I looked like 10) and my mother said something like "I'm her mother and I'm giving her permission to see this movie".
To make a long story short, it was like nothing I had ever seen. After it was over, I cried, unconsolably, for about three nights. At that age, movies about injustice unleashed tempests of tears in me. Another two that destroyed me were The Hill and Dog Day Afternoon (both, curiously, by Sydney Lumet).
So it was very interesting to watch Cuckoo's Nest again. Today, this classic film by Milos Forman seems to me strikingly European. The sense of humor, the ease with which the camera by Haskell Wexler roams the mental hospital, the breezy playfulness, the frankness, don't come from an American sensibility. However, this is a bona fide American story. Based on the novel by Ken Kesey, it is a perfect metaphor for America as it collided head on with the Sixties. The hospital is the straitlaced, puritanical, controlling, supposedly well-meaning Stepfordian America, embodied by Louise Fletcher to chilling perfection as Nurse Ratched. McMurphy, (an epic and life changing performance by Jack Nicholson) symbolizes what was coming around the bend. The clash between these two titanic impulses is a succint and powerful illustration of what was going on in this country at the time. The movie takes place in 1963, it was made in 1975: it's that era in a nutshell, or a nuthouse, to be more precise. When I was twelve I understood the story literally, having no idea yet that the United States was such a schizophrenic place. As a child, from the vantage point of Mexico, the States seemed to me a paradise of order, justice and equality. I once said that to my mom (after my first trip to Disneyland) and she told me the U.S. was not as perfect as I thought. I chose to ignore her. How dare she rain on my U.S.A parade?
At that age I was very entertained by McMurphy's inmates, who seemed totally nuts. Now I can see that although they are quirky, and overly emotional, they are not so crazy. The movie is worth watching just for the incredible ensemble cast. As far as I know, this was the first time anyone ever saw Danny De Vito, the sweetest thing in the movie, as Martini, an ever smiling guy who eats dice and does not understand how games are played, or the first time anyone ever noticed the amazing Sydney Lassick, who plays Cheswick, or saw the intensity of Christopher Lloyd, or Vincent Schiavello, or my adored Scatman Crothers or the incredible Brad Dourif. This was a career making movie for many of the actors. And this is the movie that changed Nicholson into an actor specializing in anything over the top. You can see his films before and the ones after, and the shift towards exaggeration is clear. Still, McMurphy is one of the greatest characters in American movies and Nicholson made him. Legend has it that Gene Hackman turned down this part. How can anyone turn down this part?
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest holds up very well. Like many of the American films of that era, it is a painful reminder of how far Hollywood has fallen. The movies that win Oscars today for the most part can't hold a candle to intense, controversial, committed films like this one.