251. Being John Malkovich

Song .- Binnen (Marco Borsato)

Movie: Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze, 1999)

In these supposedly enlightened times nobody has yet made a mainstream screwball comedy about a husband and wife cheating on each other with the same person. In some respects, that would probably be truer to the spirit of Frasier than the current reboot, but until someone reactivates the writers room of "The Ski Lodge", we'll have to make do with Being John Malkovich. When Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) discovers the portal to the actor's head, he notes that this opens up all kinds of philosophical questions, about the nature of self and the existence of souls. "Am I me? Is Malkovich Malkovich?" Craig, Maxine (Catherine Keener) and Lotte (Cameron Diaz) quickly lose interest in those questions, instead exploring how they can use Malkovich to live out their absurd (mostly sexual) fantasies. I have liked everything I've seen from Charlie Kaufman, but I do find it a bit unfortunate that he has become more self-consciously intellectual since Being John Malkovich.  His latter movies are not only more serious-minded explorations of the workings of the mind, but also strain a bit to be seen as such, even if I do find Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind his best work. 

The witty, intelligent inventiveness of Being John Malkovich stands out in part because it doesn't overplay its weirdness. Floor 7 1/2 is in every way recognisable as an ordinary corporate floor; its denizens dress in standard business-casual and perform their tasks with a professional demeanor. It's just that everyone has to walk around with their head cocked because the ceilings have been lowered. The introduction explaining the history of the floor is funny and absurd, but also works as a satire of business culture. It's essentially a propaganda video that sugarcoats cost-cutting measures disregarding wokers' safety with cutesy quirkyness, highlighting how special one must feel to work in this environment. And even when the real fun starts, with Craig discovering the portal, that is depicted without too much fuss and with minimal special effects. You crawl through a muddy hole in the wall until you are suddenly sucked in and end up looking at the world through the eyes of John Malkovich. After 15 minutes you leave the man by falling out of the sky near the New Jersey Turnpike. It does get more complicated if it's Malkovich himself going through the portal or if someone is trying to be John Malkovich when another person is already in the actor. The former leads to the most (justifiably, not-to-be-spoiled under any circumstance) famous scene of the film, and the latter to a fantastically surreal chase sequence through Malkovich's unconscious that plays like a dry run for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. 

While the film goes to some cynical and dark places, and has a final scene worthy of a great Polanski horror movie, I also find it immensly charming and likable. Much of that is on John Malkovich, who plays 'himself' without any hint of vanity and is ridiculosly good in callibrating his performance based on who's in him. His interpretative dance aside, he does this with a lot of subtlety, grounding the film in its own reality and providing a sort of baseline for how nuts it can get without flying of the rails. It's strange that he didn't get an Oscar nomination for it. Spike Jonze and Charlie Kaufman deserved theirs, but this was their first feature and their giddiness in making it is so palpable it's easy to imagine them losing control over it with more unhinged performances/characters (everything involving Orson Bean is the weakest part of the film). That slightly juvenile giddiness also works in the film's favor though. All of Kaufman's films invite themselves to be seen as (at least somewhat) auto-biographical and Craig is his dumbest, least flattering alter ego. Most Kaufman characters face existential dread because they are sensitive souls too aware of the world's vast irrationality and unknowability. Craig's issues are more basic and more internal. When puppetteering he is too clever for his own good, and in the rest of his life he is a control freak too horny for his own good. If he was slightly more self-aware, he might have been able to make a film (or at least a puppet show!) like Being John Malkovich.  

250. Marie Antoinette

Song - Killer Queen (Queen)

Movie: Marie Antoinette (Sofia Coppola, 2006)

Quite remarkable how patiently this movie reveals its true colors. Much of the opening consists of Marie Antoinette (Kirsten Dunst) going through the neccessary rituals before her wedding to Louis XVI (Jason Schwartzman). At every step she is greeted by aristocrats with oddly-shaped pompous faces in heavy make up. The audience is not there to honor the new queen, but to control her, to make sure that at no point she deviates from the protocol. Marie never does, but Dunst always highlights her discomfort with the whole thing, portraying her with a youthfully naive rebelliousness and vulnerability, as if she has come straight of the set of one of her contemporary teen comedies. Schwartzman's ridiculosly funny performance - he plays Louis as a limp wimp coming straight from the set of Wes Anderson's most awkward film - creates even more sympathy for the young princess. Boh actors do a great job of highlighting how little all these rituals matter. The king and queen's first dance at their wedding may well be the most literal depiction of "going through the motions" ever put on film. And Coppola is so meticulous in showcasing the hollow ridiculousness of all this, that she has somehow even made the horses gallop in line with her vision. One of the funniest scenes is a simple shot of horse carriages moving across the Gardens of Versailles. 

The film continues mercilessly tearing through Versailles after the wedding, presenting the court as a hotbed of gossip where everyone is just keeping appearances. Marie is one of the main targets of that gossip, due to her childless marriage. As getting a heir to the throne to cement the friendship between Austria and France is the main reason for the union in the first place, Marie constantly receives chiding letters from her mom Maria Theresa (Marianne Faithfull) commanding her to get on with it, which seems to also be the main function of Ambassador Mercy (Steve Coogan). Meanwhile, Louis spends all his waking hours in a state of confused terror, and the film leaves it ambigous whether that terror extends to his sex life, or whether he is gay. In any case, his wife keeps getting the blame for it. 

This depiction of the tragic, oppressive absurdity of Versailles is funny, just and convincing, but also a bit monotonous and obvious. It's not that sophisticated or challenging to take the piss out of European monarchy, especially not for Americans. I still enjoyed the righteously contemptous glee and the sense of showmanship Coppola brought along for the ride, but was a bit miffed that this was seemingly all there was to it. And just when I resigned myself to it, the film suddenly shifted gears. With Marie adjusting to life at the court and even enjoying it, Coppola moves away from her self-reflexively ironic tone to revel in the opulence of it all. The film takes its time to depict all the gowns and shoes Marie gets to wear, and the joy she gets out of wearing and choosing them. We get close ups of delectable desserts, and see Marie and her friends at the court have fun dancing to anachronistic punk music (the film is good for many reasons, but if bringing Siouxsie and the Banshees and Bow Wow Wow to my attention was all it did, it would have been enough) at masked balls where men and women have all the freedom to flirt and frolic. And yet, still, when Marie finally does get a baby, it is involuntarily taken away from her to be breast-fed by the correct people. 

Considerations of Sofia Coppola and her movies often end up focussing on her wealth and privilege and her supposed inability to make movies outside of it. It's obvious that being the daughter of Francis Ford Coppola has helped her enormously in getting a career, but it's equally obvious that she is a great and intelligent filmmaker who has very much thought about the world beyond her bubble. I was too young when I saw Lost in Translation and don't think I'll like it much more now, but really loved The Beguiled and The Bling Ring. Marie Antoinette may be her best though as it becomes about more than just the queen herself. Coppola has a lot of sympathy for the excessive demands put upon Marie Antoinette to always act in a correct way, and to be the woman and wife the world around her expects her to be, but she also knows that this is not unique to her. In fact, the rituals at the royal court don't serve to reflect society, but to shape it. If the queen doesn't perform her marital duties and procreate how can the rest of France be expected to? Marie Antoniette's struggles are those of many women, but it's easier to bear them when you are rich and powerful. Towards the end of the film, Marie Antoinette has become a happy mother and wife and powerful queen, yet still influenced by her past as an insecure teenager and political pawn. All of that shapes how we view her, and Coppola challenges us to embrace conflicting, contadictory feelings. In the final scenes she mourns along with Marie when she loses one of her kids, but gets back to her ironic distance when she is oblivious and indifferent towards the French Revolution coming for her head.  

249. When Harry Met Sally...

Song - Every Time I Think Of You (The Babys)

Movie: When Harry Met Sally... (Rob Reiner, 1989)

In some corners of the internet, Martin Scorsese was already the devil for not allowing people to uncritcally enjoy Marvel movies. Now, those same people are pissed he doesn't let them piss. When some theaters decided to put in an arbitrary intermission in Killers of the Flower Moon, editor Thelma Schoonmaker disgruntled some moviegoers, noting that this was a violation of the film. While her choice of words is a bit strong, she is absolutely right. Filmmakers don't just think about what people see in their movie, but also how they see it, and theaters don't just have the right to make unilateral cuts. The accumulating terror that slowly builds up in Killers of the Flower Moon, and is especially pronounced in the middle stretch that culminates with that surreal fire sequence (the most oppressive vision of hell Scorsese has yet imagined) would be far less effective with an intermission. Making it a difficult watch is part of the intent. 

I think Killers of the Flower Moon is a great movie, and so is When Harry Met Sally..., for precisely the opposite reason. I don't just mean that it is a comforting romantic comedy. Reiner is also always making choices to make sure the audience has the best possible time watching it. One of the loveliest parts of the film is a montage sequence showcasing life in snowy New York. We see happy children sledding towards the camera, beautiful shots of a white Central Park, some Christmas shopping, some romantic ice skaters. It's not a coincidence that this sequence comes right after the famous 'faking it' scene. I had not seen this movie or that scene before, but it is indeed as uproariously funny as advertised. The Christmas scenes following it serve as a sort of mini-intermission before the main business of the film continues. They let the audience compose itself, and let out out a few more stray laughs without missing much of the story, It's necessary too, as the next scene is the first New Year's dance, one of the key moments in the film. It sets up the ending and is the first time Harry (Billy Crystal) and Sally (Meg Ryan) become truly conscious of the possibility of love. 

For the audience that possibility of love is never much in doubt. Right from the opening scene, which doesn't waste any time setting up Harry and Sally, it is pretty obvious how the film will end. That predictability isn't a problem because almost every other scene is a classic, and because the writing is terrific. The film hits all the beats it needs to hit, but every decision our two lovers make, feels true to their characters. It is also one of those films that understands how interesting it is to fall in love with a friend. It gets that it's a situation that slows down your faculies for delicacy and tact, right at the moment when delicacy and tact are most needed. The movie has been criticised for putting its characters in sitcom situations, but while scenes such as Meg Ryan's big moment are indeed unrealistic, they are emotionally true and authentic expressions of the chaotically jubilant inner turmoil Harry and Sally experience. 

To come back full circle (and admittedly, be a little pretentious), there is a shorter distance between Harry and Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo Di Caprio's character in Killers of the Flower Moon) than we'd probably like to admit. Killers of the Flower Moon has been praised for its ending that implicates the audience and itself. I think the audience is far more implicated by Ernest himself, which is why so much writing goes out of its way to present him as a complete idiot or a complete sociopath. He is neither, he just acts in a way that we have all acted at some point in our lives; convincing ourselves that we can negotiate between two incongrous states of being, knowing deep down that we gotta make a decision at some point that might hurt somebody.