CHILDREN OF MEN REVIEW (redux)
Much hoohaa has been made about the "Three Amigos:" the three ridiculously talented and prolific Latino directors who have broken out even further this year: Alfonso Cuaron with CHILDREN OF MEN; Alejandro Innaritu with BABEL; and Guillermo Del Toro with PAN'S LABYRINTH (the last two are unseen by me, though I certainly will see both).
I have never really understood Del Toro's "genius," though many have tried to explain it to me. Many gush about HELLBOY or MIMIC, but I found them derivative and uninvolving, and even lacking in the type of directorial flourish usually gushed about in Del Toro reviews. Still, I'm looking forward to PAN'S LABYRINTH, which is supposedly a big step for him, without ever really moving away from his passions. Innaritu has been accused of making panoramics that lack any kind of guiding reason, and are dominated by a bombastic chaos thats too cinematic for his verite approach to the film, but I loved AMORES PERROS and 21 GRAMS. The Academy had no problem with the glossy CRASH, perhaps because it was just that, glossy. It never made you forget it was a movie. Innaritu has real balls for trying to merge these narratives with a gritty realism that suggests that the world is disordered and somewhat beyond repair, but replete with humanity.
Then there's Cuaron. Breaking on to the scene with much ballast but little success in 1998's big budget, high-expectation GREAT EXPECTATIONS, he returned South of the Border with the raw, energetic, and alarmingly sexual Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN. His next return to the Gringo studios was much stronger, as many feel his Harry Potter flick is the best of the bunch. (And, no, I haven't forgotten 1995's A LITTLE PRINCESS; I just haven't seen it and don't know anything about it).
But CHILDREN OF MEN is a masterpiece. Based on a novel by mass-marketeer PD James, Cuaron's film is at home equally in the sci-fi dystopia genre and as a modern thriller with a lot of heart. The plot is revealed (a little too much) in the trailer: It's 2029 and the youngest living human is eighteen - in other words, eighteen years have passed since the last birth. Britain is the only country that hasn't succumbed to internal combustion, but it's a dreary place. Illegal Immigrants are being carted off left and right, and diverse terrorists groups are blowing up civilian haunches. The plot is vaguely similar to V FOR VENDETTA, but the commitment of Cuaron proves once and for all how stupid the comic book artifice of that message-film dystopia really was.
Of course, the not-so-subtle undertone, as with any similar work since Orwell defined the genre with 1984, is that the future is much like the present. There are references to Abu-Ghraib, Iraq, September 11th, and the ridiculous celebrity sub-culture. But Cuaron keeps those as backdrop (literally), and refuses to let any of his well-conceived characters act as a voicebox. Mostly, because they are trying to survive - and that's what makes it such an exhausting experience.
Clive Owen is neither particularly smart nor particular heroic as the hero. He sleepwalks through the first half of the movie and then becomes its emotional center almost by accident. He never lets his innate cool overwhelm a character who is, basically, a burnout and a failure. Though he will not (and should not) earn any award nominations for the performance, it moves him up in the ranks of my favorite actors. And Michael Caine plays Michael Caine, and I was thankful for it. It reminded me of Winston Smith's love for chocolate, and how that kept me going through pages and page of Big Brother's faceless atrocities.
The most brilliant conceit is the opening image: cable news coverage of the ridiculous celebrity death of the aforementioned youngest human, "Baby Diego." In this moment, Cuaron and co. show us the extremes of media, the utterly counterfeit nature of celebrity, and the human need that is associated with it. And then he gives us our cynic, and guide through this film in Owen. It's a great narrative pathway to the world we're about to discover.
At one point, a fictional futuristic disc jockey exhorts his listeners to feel nostalgic for 2003. It is odd that the directors voice becomes the generic voice of a superhits station mike-banger, but it works - because I did feel nostalgia for 2003, when we seemed to be more optimistically recovering from the 9/11 and most of sincerely believed we were involved in some world liberation project. It might be a stretch for Cuaron to decide that this barren chaos is the future we have created. But there is hope in a familiar sound, and when we hear it, we recognize that even in the most broken of places lies hope.
That Cuaron made this film from a pulp novel adapted by six different screenwriters is the equivalent of blowing up a printing press and producing MOBY-DICK. It's flawless (and thankfully wasn't hit by the pandemic of 2006 films of being too long.) You must see this movie.
(Bonus points if you find the Pink Floyd allusion in the movie)
Much hoohaa has been made about the "Three Amigos:" the three ridiculously talented and prolific Latino directors who have broken out even further this year: Alfonso Cuaron with CHILDREN OF MEN; Alejandro Innaritu with BABEL; and Guillermo Del Toro with PAN'S LABYRINTH (the last two are unseen by me, though I certainly will see both).
I have never really understood Del Toro's "genius," though many have tried to explain it to me. Many gush about HELLBOY or MIMIC, but I found them derivative and uninvolving, and even lacking in the type of directorial flourish usually gushed about in Del Toro reviews. Still, I'm looking forward to PAN'S LABYRINTH, which is supposedly a big step for him, without ever really moving away from his passions. Innaritu has been accused of making panoramics that lack any kind of guiding reason, and are dominated by a bombastic chaos thats too cinematic for his verite approach to the film, but I loved AMORES PERROS and 21 GRAMS. The Academy had no problem with the glossy CRASH, perhaps because it was just that, glossy. It never made you forget it was a movie. Innaritu has real balls for trying to merge these narratives with a gritty realism that suggests that the world is disordered and somewhat beyond repair, but replete with humanity.
Then there's Cuaron. Breaking on to the scene with much ballast but little success in 1998's big budget, high-expectation GREAT EXPECTATIONS, he returned South of the Border with the raw, energetic, and alarmingly sexual Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN. His next return to the Gringo studios was much stronger, as many feel his Harry Potter flick is the best of the bunch. (And, no, I haven't forgotten 1995's A LITTLE PRINCESS; I just haven't seen it and don't know anything about it).
But CHILDREN OF MEN is a masterpiece. Based on a novel by mass-marketeer PD James, Cuaron's film is at home equally in the sci-fi dystopia genre and as a modern thriller with a lot of heart. The plot is revealed (a little too much) in the trailer: It's 2029 and the youngest living human is eighteen - in other words, eighteen years have passed since the last birth. Britain is the only country that hasn't succumbed to internal combustion, but it's a dreary place. Illegal Immigrants are being carted off left and right, and diverse terrorists groups are blowing up civilian haunches. The plot is vaguely similar to V FOR VENDETTA, but the commitment of Cuaron proves once and for all how stupid the comic book artifice of that message-film dystopia really was.
Of course, the not-so-subtle undertone, as with any similar work since Orwell defined the genre with 1984, is that the future is much like the present. There are references to Abu-Ghraib, Iraq, September 11th, and the ridiculous celebrity sub-culture. But Cuaron keeps those as backdrop (literally), and refuses to let any of his well-conceived characters act as a voicebox. Mostly, because they are trying to survive - and that's what makes it such an exhausting experience.
Clive Owen is neither particularly smart nor particular heroic as the hero. He sleepwalks through the first half of the movie and then becomes its emotional center almost by accident. He never lets his innate cool overwhelm a character who is, basically, a burnout and a failure. Though he will not (and should not) earn any award nominations for the performance, it moves him up in the ranks of my favorite actors. And Michael Caine plays Michael Caine, and I was thankful for it. It reminded me of Winston Smith's love for chocolate, and how that kept me going through pages and page of Big Brother's faceless atrocities.
The most brilliant conceit is the opening image: cable news coverage of the ridiculous celebrity death of the aforementioned youngest human, "Baby Diego." In this moment, Cuaron and co. show us the extremes of media, the utterly counterfeit nature of celebrity, and the human need that is associated with it. And then he gives us our cynic, and guide through this film in Owen. It's a great narrative pathway to the world we're about to discover.
At one point, a fictional futuristic disc jockey exhorts his listeners to feel nostalgic for 2003. It is odd that the directors voice becomes the generic voice of a superhits station mike-banger, but it works - because I did feel nostalgia for 2003, when we seemed to be more optimistically recovering from the 9/11 and most of sincerely believed we were involved in some world liberation project. It might be a stretch for Cuaron to decide that this barren chaos is the future we have created. But there is hope in a familiar sound, and when we hear it, we recognize that even in the most broken of places lies hope.
That Cuaron made this film from a pulp novel adapted by six different screenwriters is the equivalent of blowing up a printing press and producing MOBY-DICK. It's flawless (and thankfully wasn't hit by the pandemic of 2006 films of being too long.) You must see this movie.
(Bonus points if you find the Pink Floyd allusion in the movie)
posted by Andytown | 7:19 AM
1 Comments:
good thoughts, andy. I personally put it at the top spot in my top ten of the year. i was absolutely blown away. Cuaron is a magician with the camera. talk more about it soon.
Will
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