I love watching movies I grew up on and understanding the prostitution references and homosexual undertones (which are always present in Robert Redford movies). I also love watching movies in which the screenplay and visuals overshadow the actors. I mean, it's hard to steal the spotlight from Redford and Paul Newman, two of the greatest American actors, but they really do take a backseat to the amazing story and great setting (including costumes by one of my favorite strong women, Edith Head). Really, though Redford is technically the star, this is an ensemble movie with great ensemble actors. Lots of "I know her!" and "Wasn't he in Fast Times at Ridgemont High?"
There's not really much to say about the Sting. It's really just entertaining and fun 'til the end. The viewer is in on the joke, but there is a little bit of a twist, which really makes the con as delightful for us to watch as it must have been for Hooker and Gondorff to carry out. Eitan pointed out a similarity to the French Connection (a chase scene underneath and in the subway station). I think everything about the Sting is like the muted, family-friendly French Connection. Instead of a sleazy drug ring, we see the glamour of conning Irish mafia lords. Clearly, in 1936, the Great Depression was nearing its end, but it seems to me that it's still a time period conducive to a depressing atmosphere. The Sting acknowledges its chronological setting when Hooker mentions the Depression, but it gives us an alternate view. On the other hand, the French Connection takes a time period that is not especially gritty and shows us the scummiest, most unsavory side of it. Of course, I could just be falling victim to the typical moviegoing trap--thinking anything with Robert Redford in it is polished and pretty and everything else is dirty by comparison.
I think I've stopped making sense. This happens when I have little to say about a movie. But I like it. 9/10
Showing posts with label Robert Shaw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert Shaw. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Sting (1973): Eitan's Take
One of the best things about watching these films chronologically is that we really get to see trends emerging. During a long stretch of the 30's, I remarked about how Best Picture winners tend to be films about ambitious, powerful, larger-than-life men. During other periods, we've been treated to the rise of the epic, the gritty New York drama, the stage-to-screen musical, and with the dawn of the 70's, New Hollywood and the reimagining of the complex American psyche. This is what makes The Sting such a blast to watch -- amid a sea of self-important films, propelled or hampered by their bloated ambitions, here's a film that doesn't give a damn if it's the Great American Film or just another silly studio backlot period caper. That it's a really great film, funny and clever and warm, is like some happy accident.
Of course, reuniting the two boy geniuses from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid has something to do with it. Sometimes, it seems like "chemistry" was a term invented to describe what Paul Newman and Robert Redford share; every sly look, every thumb of the nose, every boyish cackle and shared moment of too-clever planning is executed flawlessly by these guys. It's a shame they only made two films together. Nowadays, we're used to con man or crime movies where everyone is playing everyone, and the whole film is nothing but a shambolic web of blink-and-you-miss-it lies and deception -- yeah, we get it... the audience gets the biggest con. Here though, mostly because Newman and Redford are too good together, we assume that the film isn't playing nasty tricks on us. It's their show, and we're along for the ride.
The film looks and sounds great too. While The Godfather uses dark browns and beiges to capture the slippery morals and dark machinations of the crime world, The Sting uses the very same color palette to create a playful and engaging world. The back alleys, the sham storefronts, the poker room on the train, and the "FBI lair" are drained of their color so we can pay attention to the richness of the performances and the decidedly non-showy cleverness of the screenplay. (It does take a lot of work to craft a screenplay this quick and witty and have it not descend into smug, self-referential gooeyness.) This is a film that wisely asks the audience to view its inner world as a comedy, even as most of the actors are playing it straight. There are no cheap-o gags and no yuks. Every laugh, especially the ones after a long buildup, such as in the pitch-perfect Newman vs. Shaw poker scene, is well-earned.
I'll admit I'm a sucker for a good heist/con caper. Even the pompous and self-important Oceans Eleven has stayed with me over the years. There's something magical about watching a long con unfold. I love sitting back and seeing how every little element -- the bogus sets, the fake accents and mustaches, the slick sleights of hand, every little prop required to make "The Wire" con work so simply and so well -- comes together to form something too sinister and well-thought-out to dismiss as just a prank. And it helps the film, rather than hinders, that George Roy Hill and author David Ward lay out the film within the simple narrative framework of showing each part of the con ("The Set-Up," "The Hook," "The Sting," etc.) as it plays out.
The Sting is really just a lovely film, and one of the only Best Picture winners that allows itself to be nothing more than pure, smart entertainment. It's far from perfect, and it definitely drags at the end, but it's tough to give it demerits when it all congeals so perfectly. 9/10.
Of course, reuniting the two boy geniuses from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid has something to do with it. Sometimes, it seems like "chemistry" was a term invented to describe what Paul Newman and Robert Redford share; every sly look, every thumb of the nose, every boyish cackle and shared moment of too-clever planning is executed flawlessly by these guys. It's a shame they only made two films together. Nowadays, we're used to con man or crime movies where everyone is playing everyone, and the whole film is nothing but a shambolic web of blink-and-you-miss-it lies and deception -- yeah, we get it... the audience gets the biggest con. Here though, mostly because Newman and Redford are too good together, we assume that the film isn't playing nasty tricks on us. It's their show, and we're along for the ride.
The film looks and sounds great too. While The Godfather uses dark browns and beiges to capture the slippery morals and dark machinations of the crime world, The Sting uses the very same color palette to create a playful and engaging world. The back alleys, the sham storefronts, the poker room on the train, and the "FBI lair" are drained of their color so we can pay attention to the richness of the performances and the decidedly non-showy cleverness of the screenplay. (It does take a lot of work to craft a screenplay this quick and witty and have it not descend into smug, self-referential gooeyness.) This is a film that wisely asks the audience to view its inner world as a comedy, even as most of the actors are playing it straight. There are no cheap-o gags and no yuks. Every laugh, especially the ones after a long buildup, such as in the pitch-perfect Newman vs. Shaw poker scene, is well-earned.
I'll admit I'm a sucker for a good heist/con caper. Even the pompous and self-important Oceans Eleven has stayed with me over the years. There's something magical about watching a long con unfold. I love sitting back and seeing how every little element -- the bogus sets, the fake accents and mustaches, the slick sleights of hand, every little prop required to make "The Wire" con work so simply and so well -- comes together to form something too sinister and well-thought-out to dismiss as just a prank. And it helps the film, rather than hinders, that George Roy Hill and author David Ward lay out the film within the simple narrative framework of showing each part of the con ("The Set-Up," "The Hook," "The Sting," etc.) as it plays out.
The Sting is really just a lovely film, and one of the only Best Picture winners that allows itself to be nothing more than pure, smart entertainment. It's far from perfect, and it definitely drags at the end, but it's tough to give it demerits when it all congeals so perfectly. 9/10.
Friday, January 16, 2009
A Man for All Seasons (1966): Shira's Take
What do I say about a movie like this? I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to watch them, because I'm about 70% incapable of liking them. Slow, consistently paced, grim in plot. Watching Paul Scofield's performance (which, despite what I'm about to say, I thought was really powerful and great) was painful. He has a completely blank affect the WHOLE movie. In these small play-like movies (of course, this one IS a play), it's difficult to notice anything but the plot and characters. The characters and plot were both interesting, but I already knew the bulk of this story.
Maybe I should talk positives. The screenplay was really flawless. I wish I had taken notes, so I could give examples, but it was teeming with subtle moments of great character development and plot progression. The acting was awesome. As I said, I loved/hated Paul Scofield. Other notables included the crazy Robert Shaw as Henry VIII and Leo McKern as the endlessly evil Thomas Cromwell (side note: though I know it's a different Cromwell, I couldn't help getting the Pyrates Royale's version of Young Ned of the Hill in my head any time his name was mentioned). It's just that slow Renaissance-era period films are not usually my thing. 7/10
Maybe I should talk positives. The screenplay was really flawless. I wish I had taken notes, so I could give examples, but it was teeming with subtle moments of great character development and plot progression. The acting was awesome. As I said, I loved/hated Paul Scofield. Other notables included the crazy Robert Shaw as Henry VIII and Leo McKern as the endlessly evil Thomas Cromwell (side note: though I know it's a different Cromwell, I couldn't help getting the Pyrates Royale's version of Young Ned of the Hill in my head any time his name was mentioned). It's just that slow Renaissance-era period films are not usually my thing. 7/10
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