Two Movies
In the past two days I went to see Good Night and Good Luck and Capote respectively, both nominated for the Best Picture Award at the recent Oscars. This means that I have seen all 5 of the movies that have been nominated by the award.
Good Night and Good Luck is a wonderful movie. One movie commented that "they don't make movies like this anymore" which is all but a cliche in modern Hollywood context, harkening back as is a habit in anything towards the good old days, but for this movie it could not be more true. It was not just that it was shot in black and white, the first movie since The Elephant Man in 1982 to be done entirely and to be nominated for the Best Picture award (Schindler's List in 1994 was shot predominantly in black and white, but has a small, devastatingly haunting glimpse of colour - look it up if you are not sure what I mean). It was the whole tone and feel of the movie. This was a movie driven by its characters, with a wonderful ensemble cast, simple, realistic and unpretentious. David Straitharn is probably one of the most overlooked actors working in the field today, and his performance in the movie as the broadcaster Edwin Murrow was completely spot on.
What made the movie personally intriguing for me was the close glimpse that it offered of broadcast journalism in its heyday, and of course that of the broader historical context of America in the early 1950s particularly that of McCarthyism and the communist witch hunt. The historical footage was melded seamlessly into the movie as a whole and was a masterstroke - indeed the effect was so powerful that early audience screenings brought the feedback that "the actor portraying McCarthy was overacting" - with the audience not realizing at first that he was portraying himself.
There is no doubt at all that this movie is a "message" movie, and its message is not only crystal clear, but one that, in my humble opinion, does need to be heeded. It is that there remains an important place within journalism for educating the public, for bringing to light abuses of power and of justice. One of the wonderful moments in the movie is the contrast in two seperate programmes of Murrow's show - when he is making his breaking attacks against McCarthyism followed by a completely mundane and scripted chat with two inane movie stars involving a tour of their home. The former of course was controversial, led to personal attacks on Murrow himself and ultimately led to the show losing it's sponsors. The latter was deemed publicly popular, and pleased the sponsors to no end. Good Night and Good Luck is an implicit condemnation of the watering down of journalism and of the ever real danger of the media selling out to big business. With large numbers of publications now owned by large tycoons - Rupert Murdoch springs immediately to mind - not to mention politicians - Silvio Berlusconi and Michael Bloomberg - we live in a day and an age where this could not be more real. That is not to say that there is a complete lack of such journalism - programs such as BBC's panorama should be commended for their efforts - but I cannot help but wonder at Murrow's comments made almost 50 years ago, that television stood at a crossroads between pandering to popular entertainment and serving as a unique check on public abuses and serving a vital role in public education. It is a saddening thing to note how far we have come down the former path, and I think that we need far more Edwin Murrow's in journalism today.
Capote is similar to Good Night, Good Luck in that it is a very realistic and historical film, in this case an examination of Truman Capote as he went about researching and writing his seminal novel In Cold Blood. I was very keen personally to watch this movie as I had enjoyed Capote's writing, and I remember being captivated by In Cold Blood when I read it 2000 whilst studying for my A levels. I was also interested to see firsthand Phillip Seymour Hoffman as Capote, a role for which he won rave reviews and numerous awards, especially to determine if it were a genuine case of brilliant acting, or more of the case of a hardworking, reknown actor lacking any recognition who is finally given his due.
The movie was certainly fascinating, particularly in looking at Capote's character and neurosis, and how they combined to form a unique genius. One remark stands out as particularly apt - Truman's companion says to Harper Lee, his close childhood friend, on seeing Truman at the center of a large group of admirers charming the crowd: "this looks like the beginning of a grand love affair", probably meaning a love affair of the crowd with Truman. Harper Lee however, gets it exactly right when she says: "Yes, of Truman with himself". The movie's strength lies in it's ability to bring across, often subtly, the exactitude of this self-obsession, this need for public acceptance, this realization of genius. It certainly is a rather unblinking portrait: it shows that he essentially manipulated the two murderers that was to form the heart of his novel, and that his sole purpose in befriending and 'aiding' them was for his novel, and in fact at one point states that fact explicitly.
One thing that gave me great pause for thought on watching the movie, was the whole notion of documentary. After all, Capote himself had deemed In Cold Blood to represent a new form of novel, the non-fiction novel, whereby fiction is utilized as a tool to examine the deeper underlying currents of factual happenings. Thus, it was his explicit purpose to force us readers to look at Perry not as a cold-blooded murderer, and a slayer of 4 innocent victims, but as a tortured soul whose we can comprehend. But where does the line between truth and fact stand and when does it begin to blur?
In relation to the movie, how much of the representation of Truman Capote is accurate, beyond the accent and mannerisms, and how much of it is a director's vision of Capote, particularly in relation to a specific period in his life. There is also the matter of factual accuracy - we see Capote having a phone conversation with Harper Lee, is what she said something that she really did say to him? Was it similarly phrased, on similar in terms of it's general theme, shortened for the necessary brevity that cinema entails? What was left out in that conversation, what was kept? After all, we soon learn that history is written as much from omission and submission - that we choose to remember the 22nd November 1963 for one person's death (JFK) rather than as the date of the death of Joe Bloggs on the street of a nameless city from freezing to death is a choice of sorts.
It is interesting then that this movie is in a sense profoundly inspired by Capote's "method" in writing his book. Whether such a project is viable, is certainly still a question in my mind. That it is such a successful film though, is testament to the fact that it was certainly a brilliant conception. Indeed, cinema rather than fiction, has often been the medium through which we have explored inside the psyches of tortured souls, where the outsider has been glorified. It is thus fitting that it is in this medium that Capote's legacy lives on.
Addendum: Some interesting facts for movie buffs. In Cold Blood was filmed in 1967, in black and white, and if I am not wrong, it won best cinematography for Conrad L Hall - the last film shot completely in black and white to win the award. The most famous scene in the movie has one of the two men standing next to a window with the rain pouring down outside, as he makes a confession. The outline of the rain on the window almost seem like tears coursing down his face as he speaks. Hall utilized this idea again in the movie The Road To Perdition for which he won a posthumous Oscar for cinematography. Except this time, he shows the outline of rain against a window pane casting a shadow on a wall opposite, again creating the impression of tears being shed by Tom Hanks as he tucks his boy into bed.
Good Night and Good Luck is a wonderful movie. One movie commented that "they don't make movies like this anymore" which is all but a cliche in modern Hollywood context, harkening back as is a habit in anything towards the good old days, but for this movie it could not be more true. It was not just that it was shot in black and white, the first movie since The Elephant Man in 1982 to be done entirely and to be nominated for the Best Picture award (Schindler's List in 1994 was shot predominantly in black and white, but has a small, devastatingly haunting glimpse of colour - look it up if you are not sure what I mean). It was the whole tone and feel of the movie. This was a movie driven by its characters, with a wonderful ensemble cast, simple, realistic and unpretentious. David Straitharn is probably one of the most overlooked actors working in the field today, and his performance in the movie as the broadcaster Edwin Murrow was completely spot on.
What made the movie personally intriguing for me was the close glimpse that it offered of broadcast journalism in its heyday, and of course that of the broader historical context of America in the early 1950s particularly that of McCarthyism and the communist witch hunt. The historical footage was melded seamlessly into the movie as a whole and was a masterstroke - indeed the effect was so powerful that early audience screenings brought the feedback that "the actor portraying McCarthy was overacting" - with the audience not realizing at first that he was portraying himself.
There is no doubt at all that this movie is a "message" movie, and its message is not only crystal clear, but one that, in my humble opinion, does need to be heeded. It is that there remains an important place within journalism for educating the public, for bringing to light abuses of power and of justice. One of the wonderful moments in the movie is the contrast in two seperate programmes of Murrow's show - when he is making his breaking attacks against McCarthyism followed by a completely mundane and scripted chat with two inane movie stars involving a tour of their home. The former of course was controversial, led to personal attacks on Murrow himself and ultimately led to the show losing it's sponsors. The latter was deemed publicly popular, and pleased the sponsors to no end. Good Night and Good Luck is an implicit condemnation of the watering down of journalism and of the ever real danger of the media selling out to big business. With large numbers of publications now owned by large tycoons - Rupert Murdoch springs immediately to mind - not to mention politicians - Silvio Berlusconi and Michael Bloomberg - we live in a day and an age where this could not be more real. That is not to say that there is a complete lack of such journalism - programs such as BBC's panorama should be commended for their efforts - but I cannot help but wonder at Murrow's comments made almost 50 years ago, that television stood at a crossroads between pandering to popular entertainment and serving as a unique check on public abuses and serving a vital role in public education. It is a saddening thing to note how far we have come down the former path, and I think that we need far more Edwin Murrow's in journalism today.
Capote is similar to Good Night, Good Luck in that it is a very realistic and historical film, in this case an examination of Truman Capote as he went about researching and writing his seminal novel In Cold Blood. I was very keen personally to watch this movie as I had enjoyed Capote's writing, and I remember being captivated by In Cold Blood when I read it 2000 whilst studying for my A levels. I was also interested to see firsthand Phillip Seymour Hoffman as Capote, a role for which he won rave reviews and numerous awards, especially to determine if it were a genuine case of brilliant acting, or more of the case of a hardworking, reknown actor lacking any recognition who is finally given his due.
The movie was certainly fascinating, particularly in looking at Capote's character and neurosis, and how they combined to form a unique genius. One remark stands out as particularly apt - Truman's companion says to Harper Lee, his close childhood friend, on seeing Truman at the center of a large group of admirers charming the crowd: "this looks like the beginning of a grand love affair", probably meaning a love affair of the crowd with Truman. Harper Lee however, gets it exactly right when she says: "Yes, of Truman with himself". The movie's strength lies in it's ability to bring across, often subtly, the exactitude of this self-obsession, this need for public acceptance, this realization of genius. It certainly is a rather unblinking portrait: it shows that he essentially manipulated the two murderers that was to form the heart of his novel, and that his sole purpose in befriending and 'aiding' them was for his novel, and in fact at one point states that fact explicitly.
One thing that gave me great pause for thought on watching the movie, was the whole notion of documentary. After all, Capote himself had deemed In Cold Blood to represent a new form of novel, the non-fiction novel, whereby fiction is utilized as a tool to examine the deeper underlying currents of factual happenings. Thus, it was his explicit purpose to force us readers to look at Perry not as a cold-blooded murderer, and a slayer of 4 innocent victims, but as a tortured soul whose we can comprehend. But where does the line between truth and fact stand and when does it begin to blur?
In relation to the movie, how much of the representation of Truman Capote is accurate, beyond the accent and mannerisms, and how much of it is a director's vision of Capote, particularly in relation to a specific period in his life. There is also the matter of factual accuracy - we see Capote having a phone conversation with Harper Lee, is what she said something that she really did say to him? Was it similarly phrased, on similar in terms of it's general theme, shortened for the necessary brevity that cinema entails? What was left out in that conversation, what was kept? After all, we soon learn that history is written as much from omission and submission - that we choose to remember the 22nd November 1963 for one person's death (JFK) rather than as the date of the death of Joe Bloggs on the street of a nameless city from freezing to death is a choice of sorts.
It is interesting then that this movie is in a sense profoundly inspired by Capote's "method" in writing his book. Whether such a project is viable, is certainly still a question in my mind. That it is such a successful film though, is testament to the fact that it was certainly a brilliant conception. Indeed, cinema rather than fiction, has often been the medium through which we have explored inside the psyches of tortured souls, where the outsider has been glorified. It is thus fitting that it is in this medium that Capote's legacy lives on.
Addendum: Some interesting facts for movie buffs. In Cold Blood was filmed in 1967, in black and white, and if I am not wrong, it won best cinematography for Conrad L Hall - the last film shot completely in black and white to win the award. The most famous scene in the movie has one of the two men standing next to a window with the rain pouring down outside, as he makes a confession. The outline of the rain on the window almost seem like tears coursing down his face as he speaks. Hall utilized this idea again in the movie The Road To Perdition for which he won a posthumous Oscar for cinematography. Except this time, he shows the outline of rain against a window pane casting a shadow on a wall opposite, again creating the impression of tears being shed by Tom Hanks as he tucks his boy into bed.
posted by Caleb Liu | 1:18 AM
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