Showing posts with label Ellen Burstyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ellen Burstyn. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Hit Me: "Requiem for a Dream" (10th Anniversary!)

In the "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" series we choose our favorite images from motion pictures. Next Wednesday we're looking at Fellini's La Dolce Vita (1960) in glorious black & white. Today's topic is Darren Aronofsky's haunting addiction drama... in full color.

"If this is red, I wanna know what's orange?"

Requiem for a Dream (2000)
10th Anniversary Appreciation

Requiem for a Dream warns us continually about the addictive power of drugs, dreams, and dieting... but who will warn us about the addictive properties of Requiem for a Dream? The movie is, in its own teeth-grinding way, as hard to kick as Sara Goldfarb's (Ellen Burstyn) diet pills or the harder stuff her only son Harry (Jared Leto) ingests. But I realized something during my umpteenth view that I haven't quite processed before. I rarely watch the whole movie. When the characters get high in Requiem there's often a long slow fade to white to end the scene. My fade to white is the centerpiece monologue, one of the most brilliantly shot and performed monologues ever. After it, I can't take anymore.

Ellen Burstyn is such a quivering ball of despair, held together by willfully hand-stitched delusion... "I like thinking about the red dress... and the television." Jared Leto's aftershock moment in the cab afterwards, from weeping baby to instantly stoned man, is a pitch-perfect exit scene. Aside from two brilliant performances, the cinematography by Matthew Libatique is masterful. The whites are always too white in Requiem; it's not just dope that's making them snowblind. It's a harsh world out there. Also note the sickly green light of the interior Goldfarb apartment. The outside world will swallow you up but you're no safer inside.

But for "Best Shot" let us applaud the split screen. Darren Aronofsky isn't the only contemporary filmmaker who uses the split screen but the practicioners are few. It's a surprisingly versatile technique which can reference additional artforms, show narrative parallels, provide style/eye candy, offer character P.O.V. or heighten the tension of some impending moment both images foretell. In this film, Aronofsky is mostly using it for P.O.V. purposes (Sara staring at the fridge) or as a visual metaphor for disconnectedness.

In one of the best scenes, Harry and Marion (Jared Leto and Jennfier Connelly, both giving the finest performances of their careers) do pillow talk. The images and the the dialogue convey both eroticism and emotional intimacy but the slightly out of sync eyelines and timing (note that the images aren't completely in sync since hands reach faces before arms move and the like) convey that something is broken. Their love may well be real but they're so far removed from their own realities that the connection is inherently false.


Harry: Hey, you know something? I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I ever seen.
Marion: Really?
Harry: Ever since I first saw you.
Marion: That's nice Harry. Makes me feel really good. You know other people have told me that before and it was meaningless.
Harry: Why is -- You thought they were pulling your leg?
Marion: No, no, not like that. I mean... I don't know or even care if they were. From them it was just meaningless, you know? You say it and I hear it. I really hear it.
Harry: You know somebody like you could really make things all right for me.
Marion: You think?
Heartbreaking.

And one more. In a moment of true inspiration shortly afterwards, Aronofsky reminds us of this same self-medicated disconnection in what looks like a split screen but isn't.


Sara has just begun to grind her teeth and retreats to the bathroom mirror to investigate this new development. The diet drugs have kicked in and after a closeup of her shifting jaw, this image. She's not losing weight. She's losing her self.


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"Be Excited. Be Be Excited"
Best Shot Participants
 Previously on "Hit Me With Your Best Shot"
Related Reading

    Thursday, November 05, 2009

    Directors of the Decade: Darren Aronofsky

    Robert here, continuing my series of the directors that shaped the past 10 years. Last week I wrote about a “love him” or “hate him” director that turned out to be mostly loved. So having promised such a man I feel like I let you down. I think I can do better with this week’s subject: Darren Aronofsky

    Number of Films: Three.
    Modern Masterpieces: Two. Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain (this is called baiting the hook.)
    Total Disasters: None.
    Better than you remember: Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain if applicable.
    Awards: Requiem and The Wrestler receive Oscar Nominations for acting. The Wrestler gets the Spirit Award for Best Picture. The Fountain goes mostly overlooked (because The Academy has no idea what a good movie score sounds like).
    Box Office: The Wrestler is tops with over 23 mil. The Fountain tops 10 mil. Requiem in very limited release (thank you NC-17) does 2 and a half mil.
    Critical Consensus: The Wrestler is clearly his most praised film. Requiem gets mostly good notices though some critics are split. The Fountain confuses everyone.
    Favorite Actor: Mark Margolis, who you might recognize as the pawn shop owner, the priest, and the landlord (respectively)

    Let’s talk about:
    Desperate obsession. Though I suppose you can make an argument that most great films are about desperate obsession. Isn’t Dorothy desperately obsessed with getting home? Isn’t Charles Kane desperately obsessed with being loved? Isn’t Rick desperately obsessed with Ilsa? Maybe… it depends on your definition of “desperate” and “obsessed.” For the sake of Darren Aronofsky’s films, we can agree that the desperate obsession of his characters is defined at the highest extreme possible. And perhaps that’s his biggest shortcoming (I feel the need to level a criticism early since the rest of this post will be complimentary, and a bit defensive). His films’ insights don’t seem to extend much further than: “desperate obsession leads to very bad things.” And thematically, each successive film doesn’t seem to tread any ground beyond this.

    Darren Aronofsky is, however, a great director of actors. I mention this now because it's largely the performances by his actors that successfully counter-balance any troubles had by his films. Another criticism of Aronofsky’s films (though not by me) is that they posses a sense of stylistic overkill. “Style over substance” they say. To which I often respond that those criticizing a piece of art would be wise not to employ a phrase that’s cliché (please also refrain from describing a film as “the emperor has no clothes” thank you). There is no doubt that the director’s films are stylishly bold and often aggressive. But how does one make a film about mental collapse such as Requiem for a Dream without utilizing such an uncompromising subjective camera? And how can one suggest that the style and storytelling of The Fountain isn’t absolutely necessary to explore the minds of its characters (depending on your interpretation of course). Aronofsky’s films are certainly high style but they don’t suffer from it. They are, in fact, among the most inventive movies being made today.

    Aronofsky and Rourke. Blurry.

    And still it all comes back to the acting. Even if Aronofsky’s films are stylistically excessive (including brilliant contributions from talent such as Matthew Libatique and Clint Mansell) they are always saved by the acting. After all, these movies are really about people and how their inability to find joy in the mundane, mediocre world around them fuels their desperate obsessions for that which is ultimately unattainable; whether it be respect, love, saving a spouse or fitting into a red dress. And the portrayals of actors such as Ellen Burstyn, Jennifer Connelly, Hugh Jackman and Mickey Rourke are not just human and moving but often crushing. These are performances that easily counteract any possible stylistic distraction and become the emotional heart of each film. It takes great actors to steal the spotlight from Aronofsky’s audacious aesthetics. Yet they do, every time.

    Heading into this decade, Aronofsky was the hot new thing, coming off the indie success of Pi. Requiem for a Dream was something of a companion piece, continuing the (as Aronofsky calls it) “hip hop montage” device of its predecessor. Seemingly a continuation of his winning streak, the film had few detractors (not including stoned college dorm-mates who dismissed it as a mere modern Reefer Madness). But eight years later when The Wrestler opened to much acclaim, more voices than I expected invoked memory of the director’s “last two disasters.” That second disaster was The Fountain, a passion project that collapsed and had to be completely re-thought with a smaller cast and budget. Too many critics savaged it as incomprehensible. Yet I couldn’t understand why reviewers could praise the opaque work of Lynch or Buñuel but find nothing worthwhile in this powerful film (which, quite frankly shouldn't require 100% comprehension to be enjoyed). Thankfully, the critical and commercial failure of The Fountain did not slow down Aronofsky.

    I'm happy to see that, thanks to The Wrestler, Aronofsky has regained a place of high cinematic respect (though it’s no small shame that his least demanding picture should be his most highly praised). Hopefully he will not take it as a sign to shrug off his audaciousness moving into the future (which soon includes the ballerina picture Black Swan and a possible RoboCop remake). To quote Nathaniel: “Auteurs should all go for broke.” To quote myself: “If great movies always show us something we’ve never seen before, then it's awfully hard to make a case against Darren Aronofsky.”

    Sunday, September 13, 2009

    Ellen's Triple Crowning. And Other Emmy Tales

    The first batch of Emmy winners in creative / technical awards and "guest" acting were announced. It's the stuff they can't fit on the air because they have more categories than you could possibly keep track of, but still not so many as the Grammys.

    Curiously the cancelled Pushing Daisies, which couldn't ever manage a "best comedy series" nomination beat EMMY's "best drama series" Mad Men in three of their four shared categories (Art Direction, Costume Design, Make-Up) and lost to Mad Men only once (Hairstyling). The lack of technical trophies for Mad Men makes me worried for their chances in the big categories next Sunday night. Not that there's ever a point in "worrying" about who might win EMMYs. It always feels so random.

    I was amused to see True Blood taking the "casting" award. Wasn't the process of selecting all the frequently unclothed eye-candy reward enough for those casting directors? The guest spot acting winners were Justin Timberlake and Tina Fey (Saturday Night Live) for comedy and Michael J Fox (Rescue Me) for drama.

    After years without a new "Triple Crowner" we got two in 2009:
    Geoffrey Rush joined their ranks in June and Ellen in September.

    And then there's Ellen Burstyn who joined the esteemed company of the Triple Crowners (Oscar + TONY + Emmy) with a winged trophy for her guest starring work on Law & Order: Special Victim's Unit. Burstyn's girded steel mantleplace has more than paid for itself by now. Add one Emmy to her haul which also includes an Oscar, a TONY, a BAFTA, a Globe, an Indie Spirit, a Satellite, a Genie and numerous critics, film festival and theater honors. As someone who loves the cinema and is none to fond of watching our great actresses vanish or spend their sunset years in procedurals like Law & Order, I'd like to congratulate the wonderful Burstyn but also slap Martin Scorsese. Why can't he (or Darren Aronofsky or William Friedkin for that matter) find another plum role for her? I don't want to say that Scorsese "owes" her for what she did for him in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974) but certainly he's been exceedingly generous with other stars [oh, you know who] who didn't give half as much as Ellen in their collaborations. Why didn't he ever work with her again? Attention all filmmakers: She's 76 years old. Time is a wasting. Hand her something incredible soon.

    for the complete list of Emmy winners
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    Friday, February 20, 2009

    Signatures: Ellen Burstyn

    Adam of Club Silencio here with another look at my favorite actresses and their distinguishing claims to fame.

    Ellen Burstyn's career has been dominated by the independent life of mothers. Hers are the most rewarding portraits of mothers, because not only are they driven by what's good for their children -- be that good schools or removing Satan from their body -- they also have secret desires and lofty aspirations of their own.


    There's definitely two halves to Ellen's maternal instinct, and she mines so much truth, ache and beauty from women's dual worlds. Challenged by lowlife men, painful memories and the Catholic church, Ellen's roles showcase the rare reality of mothers whose lives extend beyond their children. Being a mother is all about balance.


    Hollywood on the other hand is about selling people short and banking on cultural ignorance, so balance there is hard to find. Somehow Ellen's still managed quite masterfully in her career, though it couldn't have been easy. She says women's roles were once sparingly as dense as that of her titular role in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore, "(Women) were either victims, dutiful wives or prostitutes, or... well, that was pretty much it. I wanted to make a different kind of film. A film from a woman's point of view, but a woman that I recognised, that I knew."

    And just like a mother we all know, Ellen's the absolute best at a guilt trip...


    "What have I got, Harry? Why should I even make the bed or wash the dishes? I do them... but why should I? I'm alone. Your father's gone,
    you're gone. I've got no one to care for. What have I got, Harry? I'm lonely, I'd old..."

    Ellen would want you to call your mother, even if she has a life of her own.

    Monday, January 19, 2009

    Breakfast With... Sara Goldfarb

    Ellen Burstyn in Requiem for a Dream
    Stop already. You'll feel better in the red dress than in a cheese danish

    Saturday, January 10, 2009

    "If this is a red, I wanna know what's orange?"

    Tuesday, August 05, 2008

    Tuesday Top Ten: The Queens of Screams

    Tuesday Top Ten: For the listmaker in me JA and the listlover in you you

    JA from MNPP here, guest-blogging the Top 10 for this week.

    The way I reckon it, I don't want to step on any toes while guesting here, so I want to choose a topic that Nathaniel would never do on his lonesome. But I also want to choose a subject that'll tickle y'all's fancy at the same time. And it's gotta be something I know something about (which narrows the field down considerably). So taking into account The Film Experience's general love for the actresses (hence Nat's delightful term "actressexuality"), and my own love for horror movies, and (bless his scaredy-cat lil' heart) Nat's aversion to the same... well, a list was born unto us this day!

    To the Year One, y'all. Tis a list of what I have deemed The Top 10 Leading Ladies of Horror. Basically... these are my 10 favorite female horror movie performances. I went for just leading ladies here, which kept stellar supporting characters (Hiya, Minnie Castavet!) from stealing the spotlight (again). I tried to cover all the bases - we've got the victimized types of course - where would horror be without 'em? - but also our tough chicks, and then there's those loveable crazies too. So without further...

    10) Heather Donahue in The Blair Witch Project - “I am so sorry! Because it was my fault.“ – It’s easy to hate on Heather… she brings it on herself, really. Like so many of the characters in this most recent wave of first-person horror (think Cloverfield) that picked up from Blair’s 10-year old success, Heather was labeled annoying and self-centered and well won’t you just put the camera down, lady?


    But horror would be nothing without its determination to show us the lesser sides of ourselves – people making terrible decisions and being punished so we the viewers don’t have to is par for the course. Hell, sometimes it's the whole course. And Heather, in her justifiably famous snot-faced soliloquy, turns the camera in on that side of ourselves that we’d like to think we wouldn’t be in that situation but 9 times out of 10 will, most assuredly, be. And if one of the most vital parts of what I consider to be a great horror performance is the ability to truthfully convey real fear – an uncensored, wide-eyed terror – Donahue earns her spot on this list for that alone.

    9) Linda Blair (and Mercedes McCambridge... and Ellen Burstyn) in The Exorcist - "Keep away. The sow is mine." – It just doesn’t feel right leaving off credit to McCambridge, the woman who gave voice to little Regan McNeil’s demonic possession. So I had to include her name. That said, as horrific as the second-half of this film is (where credit must be paid not only to McCambridge but the make-up and effects people as well) I find the medical examination scenes of the first half nearly as terrifying as the later blasphemies, and all we have there is tiny Regan thrown into the midst of a bunch of loud machinery, so obviously Blair is doing some heavy lifting on her own. And then I find I must add on Ellen Burstyn’s fine performance as Regan’s helpless mother who can only look on… all said, it’s difficult for me to choose just one aspect to praise here; they’re all inextricably linked. The mother, the daughter, and the unholy spirit, as it were.

    8) Kathy Bates in Misery - “God I love you.” – Yes, the film spins Annie Wilkes off into a bit of a hysterical caricature in those final ten minutes or so. But before she becomes an unkillable madwoman, Bates' performance is one of the simultaneously funniest and saddest portrayals of deranged loneliness ever put on-screen. Because I’ll be damned if she doesn’t just know that the writer named Paul Sheldon’s literal fall into her lap wasn’t a gift sent from cockadoodied wherever, and she’s gonna make it bitchin' worthwhile. Why shouldn’t the fans have their say, anyway? I’m not going to be the one to argue that point and make her feel all oogy.

    7) Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween - “It was the boogeyman, wasn't it?” – She set the archetype in stone. The Final Girl. Sally may’ve screamed louder (and longer... and earlier), and Nancy might’ve built exploding light-bulb booby-traps, but nobody personified exactly what the Slasher genre needed better - the female yin to the male killer's wang - than JLC's Laurie Strode. Almost too smart for her own good – she felt it coming, annoyed everybody, but still couldn’t stop it all the same – there’s myriad reasons Curtis is, to my mind, still the greatest straightforward Final Girl, but none moreso than the first half-an-hour or so as we watch Laurie spot the boogeyman behind the bushes or in the backyard, and see her preparedness despite herself click defiantly into place.


    6) Jodie Foster in The Silence of the Lambs - “Some kind of screaming, like a child's voice.” - Sweet Clarice Starling, just trying to bury the sounds of those lambs to the slaughter. Little girls, they go next, off to the dressmakers... somewhere in America there is a pit in a basement with a Senator's daughter all holed up. Loose skin. Come and get it, Precious.

    5) Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley - “Get away from her, you bitch!“ – Of the first two Alien flicks, I only really consider Ridley Scott’s original film to be a horror film. But Weaver’s Ripley doesn’t emerge as the main player until the very end. She’s most obviously the main character of James Cameron’s Aliens, but that’s an action movie with monsters. So how do I justify placing her on a list? By just mushing the entire quadrilogy’s worth of her performances together. Yes, I’m cheating. But this list just seemed wrong without her. Where maybe too many of the women on this list are of the victimized sort - immediately previous company excluded, of course - I needed to include a woman who rocks off an acid-spewing alien’s face with a gun larger than my entire torso to even things out. And then, like a full half of this list, she's Mother, too. And if there's one thing this list proves - and this list, too! - nothing is scarier than mommy-hood.

    4) Shelley Duvall in The Shining - “We're all going to have a real good time.” – Always overshadowed by Jack Nicholson’s Jack Nicholson-sized performance, Duvall’s Wendy Torrence is and always will be my favorite part of Kubrick’s coolly malignant flick. Duvall was always channeling her gawky physiognomy to great effect with her characters, whether it was her hysterical Olive Oyl stroll or just the way she held a cigarette in 3 Women… but nowhere to my mind was she more brilliant than here. Has anyone ever held a knife or an axe more awkwardly? And watch the way her occasional outbursts of positive energy – always so sadly forced - quickly slide back into a slumped-over shell of a woman, beaten down both literally and figuratively, and then the eventual, probably Kubrick-inflicted real-seeming terror that courses across her bug-eyed face… it’s a vanity-free, often humiliating role, which Duvall upends and owns with her every silent scream.

    3) Ellen Burstyn in Requiem For a Dream - “I like thinking about the red dress…” – Like the invisible arm of Death itself that kills so many teenagers – and so imaginatively! - in the Final Destination flicks, the horror of Requiem is of a different breed - it’s the mental demons inside these characters that tear them to shreds. But make no mistake – this is a horror film, and one of the most horrifying ever made. And nowhere does that horror manifest itself more cruelly than in the guise of a lonely Coney Island widow that can’t let go of a dream long dead. Burstyn’s physical deterioration as she’s swallowed whole by her addictions is haunting enough – the final shots of the film rend my heart every time – but Burstyn makes it clear from the start that Sarah Goldfarb has one foot over the precipice just looking for anything that might offer her even the briefest of smiles.


    2) Sissy Spacek in Carrie - “It was bad, Mama. They laughed at me.” – The most spellbinding moments in DePalma’s 1976 classic for me are the ones where we see Carrie White begin to come out of her shell – the way her inherent good-nature peeks around that shy smile… a flurry of compliments from Billy the cute boy asking her to the prom and from her teacher who means so well… all of which lead to that spinning-out-of-control on the dance-floor moment. And then falls the crown. And we all know what horror lay beneath that heavy load. Carrie White is horribly human… until she’s not human at all anymore. And then she’s back again… but it is too late. After all, sin never dies... and Spacek makes us understand every step of the way, with a most terrible accuracy, what has gone so very wrong.


    1) Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby - “This is no dream! This is really happening!” – Is it simply the paranoia of a young lady with too much time on her hands, or is there something sinister going on with that too-friendly old couple next door? Is her husband distracted with work, turned off by her constant sickness, or has he perhaps made a Faustian trade-off with the soul of little Andy-or-Jenny? In the book, Rosemary Woodhouse is described as a large-hipped Midwestern girl, built for breeding, but in one of the very few deviations from page to screen, Polanski cast Farrow (once Tuesday Weld backed out) and the character clicked into perfection. Because the story is about watching the span of pregnancy as if in the nightmarish reflection of a fun-house mirror, it’s vital that Rosemary look like someone devoured by that giant belly, and tiny little Mia in her yellow sun-dresses with the face of a ghoul poking out fit the bill, and then some. But even beyond the physical perfection of the casting, Farrow nails every note of paranoia, and as we watch her flail about under the arms of all those she’s trusted as they drug her into unconsciousness, we truly know what helplessness is.


    Well that was fun/painful. And if you want to see who just missed the cut, you can head over to MNPP where I spit out Ten More Lovely Ladies (Wah-ah-ah!) that are also worth their weight in carnage.
    ..

    Friday, March 28, 2008

    Bushed

    There's only 297 days left of Bush's presidency (too long!) and I can't imagine anyone being able to suffer him for 298. Which is why I find the whole notion of a W. movie suspect [tangent: my sympathies go out to Starwood Hotels]. It's so soon. Still the cast that controversy magnet Oliver Stone has gathered is appealing. Josh Brolin as the worst president ever (albeit before he was president), Soon to be 'it girl' Elizabeth Banks as Laura (previous coverage of Bank's big year here), and now Academy Award nominee James Cromwell as H.W. and Oscar Winner Ellen Burstyn as "Barbara Bush"... that's a hefty lineup.

    This is sure to be Burstyn's most frightening role since The Exorcist, the malevolent refrigerators and pill popping of Requiem for a Dream be damned.

    Ellen Burstyn's troubled screen children

    [Tangent #2: So, Burstyn will get her seventh Oscar nod for this, right? That'd move her up to tied for 5th place of all time in Oscar's actress hierarchy (a spot currently deadlocked between Ingrid Bergman, Jane Fonda and Greer Garson with only Fonda having a very remote chance of breaking the tie). Burstyn is currently in a nine-way tie for 6th place of most nominations from a female actor. The top four, in case you're wondering is composed of: 1. Meryl Streep, 2. Katharine Hepburn, 3. Bette Davis, and 4. Geraldine Page.]

    Do you want to see this W. picture despite or because of all that's gone by... or maybe you would rather forget this dynasty forever? How do you feel about Oliver Stone's presidential films: Nixon and JFK?
    W