j30bell
Joined Mar 2004
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j30bell's rating
The title above is nonsense, of course, as it clearly is a Scorsese film, both in tone and style. The problem, though, is it ought not to be.
For those who haven't seen Infernal Affairs the film on which The Departed is based - the plot revolves around two men. An undercover cop, infiltrating a mob gang in Boston (DiCaprio) and an undercover mobster (Damon), who has infiltrated the police force at the arrangement of the appallingly psychotic Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson).
Frenetic action ensues as the two warring tribes tear each other apart in order to find their respective moles. Meanwhile, both undercover men are struggling with their identity. But which one will crack first? Taking aside the remake issue for a moment, does the film work on its own terms? Partially. The story is excellent and involving, and while it is a long film at nearly 2hours 30min, it keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout. The characters are very well drawn, and there is clear movement in both characters, which helps to engage the audience. Leonardo DiCaprio is truly excellent as Billy Costigan, the mole for the Boston Police Department; and a special mention must also go to Mark Wahlberg, who manages to steal just about every scene he's in.
However, despite these notable strengths, I completely failed to leave the cinema feeling wowed. Entertained, with out a doubt, but this is a long way from being Scorsese's best work.
Part of the problem is the juxtaposition of violence and humour. While being an excellent director in almost every respect, Scorsese is no Tarantino when it comes to violence and humour. The humour worked fine on its own terms (Wahlberg, in particular, was hilarious) but it was used in a clunky way, and disrupted the mood and the pace of the film.
Another problem was Jack Nicholson's Frank Costello. Jack is unleashed in The Departed and not in a good way. He seems to think he's playing The Joker again. I'm not quite sure what either Nicholson or Scorsese though they were doing with all those rat imitations. In these circumstances, the insanity of the mobster would normally intimidate the other characters and the audience (c.f. Mr Blonde in The Reservoir Dogs). Here, either the chemistry between Leo and Jack was wrong; or the scene was badly written or performed (I suspect the later). It just didn't work.
So to the remake issue. In many respects, The Departed is a photographic negative of Infernal Affairs, which suffered from poor characterisation, but had spectacularly slick plotting, and a coherent tone.
It would be wrong to expect a remake to mimic the style of the original. But in this case, where style and substance are so inextricably fused in the original, it can be dangerous to mess with it.
Unfortunately, Infernal Affairs had Michael Mann written all over it. It needed a highly stylised treatment and, dare I say it, California. Something just doesn't ring true in The Departed. It was a good film, but something was just wrong.
For those who haven't seen Infernal Affairs the film on which The Departed is based - the plot revolves around two men. An undercover cop, infiltrating a mob gang in Boston (DiCaprio) and an undercover mobster (Damon), who has infiltrated the police force at the arrangement of the appallingly psychotic Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson).
Frenetic action ensues as the two warring tribes tear each other apart in order to find their respective moles. Meanwhile, both undercover men are struggling with their identity. But which one will crack first? Taking aside the remake issue for a moment, does the film work on its own terms? Partially. The story is excellent and involving, and while it is a long film at nearly 2hours 30min, it keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout. The characters are very well drawn, and there is clear movement in both characters, which helps to engage the audience. Leonardo DiCaprio is truly excellent as Billy Costigan, the mole for the Boston Police Department; and a special mention must also go to Mark Wahlberg, who manages to steal just about every scene he's in.
However, despite these notable strengths, I completely failed to leave the cinema feeling wowed. Entertained, with out a doubt, but this is a long way from being Scorsese's best work.
Part of the problem is the juxtaposition of violence and humour. While being an excellent director in almost every respect, Scorsese is no Tarantino when it comes to violence and humour. The humour worked fine on its own terms (Wahlberg, in particular, was hilarious) but it was used in a clunky way, and disrupted the mood and the pace of the film.
Another problem was Jack Nicholson's Frank Costello. Jack is unleashed in The Departed and not in a good way. He seems to think he's playing The Joker again. I'm not quite sure what either Nicholson or Scorsese though they were doing with all those rat imitations. In these circumstances, the insanity of the mobster would normally intimidate the other characters and the audience (c.f. Mr Blonde in The Reservoir Dogs). Here, either the chemistry between Leo and Jack was wrong; or the scene was badly written or performed (I suspect the later). It just didn't work.
So to the remake issue. In many respects, The Departed is a photographic negative of Infernal Affairs, which suffered from poor characterisation, but had spectacularly slick plotting, and a coherent tone.
It would be wrong to expect a remake to mimic the style of the original. But in this case, where style and substance are so inextricably fused in the original, it can be dangerous to mess with it.
Unfortunately, Infernal Affairs had Michael Mann written all over it. It needed a highly stylised treatment and, dare I say it, California. Something just doesn't ring true in The Departed. It was a good film, but something was just wrong.
Films experiencing production hell are rarely as good as they might have been, no matter how good the director is (c.f. Gangs of New York and AI) and this one is no exception.
Taken on its own terms, Tales of Earthsea is a competent, if not breathtaking, start for Miyazaki junior, and bears comparison to the lesser Gibli canon without scaling the heights of its major work. It is unfair to compare it to My Cousin Totoro, Spirited Away or Graveyard of the Fireflies; but it is also a shame for the fans of Earthsea. They didn't get a top director at the top of his game.
The principal problem with the film is that it doesn't seem to know what to do with the books it is based on. Are they source material to be pillaged? Are they stories to be adapted? Are they concepts to be explored? In the end Miyazaki opts for a mix: the narrative structure is broadly based on the third novel (The Farthest Shore), with a significant sub-plots from both the first (The Wizard of Earthsea) and the fourth (Tehanu). Into the mix he throws some recognisable manga/anime formulae (the arch-enemy; the ronin henchmen; the violence) which cut across the major themes explored by the novels and alluded to by the film.
If this all sounds like a disaster, it isn't exactly. The plot functions: evil wizard, through pride, upsets the balance of Earthsea forcing archmage, Sparrowhawk, in the company of a young prince, to do battle to restore the balance, destroy the evil and face down their own demons. Had Miyazaki been more ruthless all would probably have been well for anime fans anyway. But there are too many blind alleys, lose ends and needless distractions all nods to the books - which make the first half of the film in particular feel like a second rate brass band meandering painfully around a Brassed Off version of Adagio for Strings. The narcotic Hazia, for example, which dominates the beginning of the third story, is introduced early in the film and then simply abandoned. Later, Tenar's back-story fades into nothingness leaving the audience with a forcible impression of a producer impatiently looking at his watch. The whole effect is not homage, but distraction and a film that it is at least 40minutes longer than it needed to be.
Ursula LeGuin, who wrote the Earthsea novels, had suggested to (Hayao) Miyazaki that he create new story for Ged, uncluttered by her previous stories, set in the many years between the first two books. This would have made for a less ponderous film.
Regarding the technical side of animation; it appears the younger Miyazaki was aiming for the dreamlike quality of animation so characteristic of his father's work. Again, he has some partial success in this regard, although it is undeniably more clunky than other Gibli titles. But a lot can be forgiven for his reliance on hand-drawn animation, and there are some moments of real beauty windblown grasses, rocks on the seashore and chill sunsets. This, along with some strong characters and a much tighter second half, make Tales from Earthsea watchable film, if a slightly underwhelming one. But better than Disney. 6/10
Taken on its own terms, Tales of Earthsea is a competent, if not breathtaking, start for Miyazaki junior, and bears comparison to the lesser Gibli canon without scaling the heights of its major work. It is unfair to compare it to My Cousin Totoro, Spirited Away or Graveyard of the Fireflies; but it is also a shame for the fans of Earthsea. They didn't get a top director at the top of his game.
The principal problem with the film is that it doesn't seem to know what to do with the books it is based on. Are they source material to be pillaged? Are they stories to be adapted? Are they concepts to be explored? In the end Miyazaki opts for a mix: the narrative structure is broadly based on the third novel (The Farthest Shore), with a significant sub-plots from both the first (The Wizard of Earthsea) and the fourth (Tehanu). Into the mix he throws some recognisable manga/anime formulae (the arch-enemy; the ronin henchmen; the violence) which cut across the major themes explored by the novels and alluded to by the film.
If this all sounds like a disaster, it isn't exactly. The plot functions: evil wizard, through pride, upsets the balance of Earthsea forcing archmage, Sparrowhawk, in the company of a young prince, to do battle to restore the balance, destroy the evil and face down their own demons. Had Miyazaki been more ruthless all would probably have been well for anime fans anyway. But there are too many blind alleys, lose ends and needless distractions all nods to the books - which make the first half of the film in particular feel like a second rate brass band meandering painfully around a Brassed Off version of Adagio for Strings. The narcotic Hazia, for example, which dominates the beginning of the third story, is introduced early in the film and then simply abandoned. Later, Tenar's back-story fades into nothingness leaving the audience with a forcible impression of a producer impatiently looking at his watch. The whole effect is not homage, but distraction and a film that it is at least 40minutes longer than it needed to be.
Ursula LeGuin, who wrote the Earthsea novels, had suggested to (Hayao) Miyazaki that he create new story for Ged, uncluttered by her previous stories, set in the many years between the first two books. This would have made for a less ponderous film.
Regarding the technical side of animation; it appears the younger Miyazaki was aiming for the dreamlike quality of animation so characteristic of his father's work. Again, he has some partial success in this regard, although it is undeniably more clunky than other Gibli titles. But a lot can be forgiven for his reliance on hand-drawn animation, and there are some moments of real beauty windblown grasses, rocks on the seashore and chill sunsets. This, along with some strong characters and a much tighter second half, make Tales from Earthsea watchable film, if a slightly underwhelming one. But better than Disney. 6/10
You certainly have to credit Children of Men with originality. Rooting a dystopian vision in a real life social or political problem is just so
passé.
Apparently by 2027 women can't conceive anymore (isn't that always the way). Women have destroyed the world again; when will they ever learn? Civilisation has, predictably, broken down. The world beyond the English Channel has descended into howling, woad-smeared anarchy. Oh, and the government is evil because it doesn't like refugees.
The problem with Children of Men is that it seems to have been assembled backwards. Most dystopias start with a topical problem or issue they want to explore and then build up to an extreme conclusion. Orwell and Bradbury had totalitarianism; Huxley and Burgess had social dislocation; Atwood had chauvinism; Niccol had genetic enhancement. Children of Men, though, appears to have begun with its funky dystopian backcloth and then realised half way through that it didn't actually have anything to say. Thus we have to listen with increasing impatience to all this guff about hating 'fugees (this caused me a momentary confusion: "don't like The Fugees? So what, I mean, who does?")
Now don't get me wrong, I'm a liberal kind of guy; I like immigration (as I discovered the disconcertingly confusing contraction of refugees to mean). But this Salford Poly, bed-sit politics is a bit preposterous in a post-apocalyptic society don't you think? Somehow, I don't think Neil Pye from the Young Ones would have survived the post-infertility thought police holocaust. Just guessing.
What Children of Men does, it does quite well. It develops atmosphere and pace well and there are some good performances (particularly Clive Owen and Michael Caine) to set against the slightly hammy performances of the NUS fish warriors (I'm not kidding). But in the end it is impossible to escape from the infuriating, TV-shaking pointlessness of it all. Fecundity problem? For Pandas, yes. Are we Pandas? Government doesn't want to turn Britain into a hostel for the entire population of the world? How could they not; what would the Guardian say?
Apparently by 2027 women can't conceive anymore (isn't that always the way). Women have destroyed the world again; when will they ever learn? Civilisation has, predictably, broken down. The world beyond the English Channel has descended into howling, woad-smeared anarchy. Oh, and the government is evil because it doesn't like refugees.
The problem with Children of Men is that it seems to have been assembled backwards. Most dystopias start with a topical problem or issue they want to explore and then build up to an extreme conclusion. Orwell and Bradbury had totalitarianism; Huxley and Burgess had social dislocation; Atwood had chauvinism; Niccol had genetic enhancement. Children of Men, though, appears to have begun with its funky dystopian backcloth and then realised half way through that it didn't actually have anything to say. Thus we have to listen with increasing impatience to all this guff about hating 'fugees (this caused me a momentary confusion: "don't like The Fugees? So what, I mean, who does?")
Now don't get me wrong, I'm a liberal kind of guy; I like immigration (as I discovered the disconcertingly confusing contraction of refugees to mean). But this Salford Poly, bed-sit politics is a bit preposterous in a post-apocalyptic society don't you think? Somehow, I don't think Neil Pye from the Young Ones would have survived the post-infertility thought police holocaust. Just guessing.
What Children of Men does, it does quite well. It develops atmosphere and pace well and there are some good performances (particularly Clive Owen and Michael Caine) to set against the slightly hammy performances of the NUS fish warriors (I'm not kidding). But in the end it is impossible to escape from the infuriating, TV-shaking pointlessness of it all. Fecundity problem? For Pandas, yes. Are we Pandas? Government doesn't want to turn Britain into a hostel for the entire population of the world? How could they not; what would the Guardian say?