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In the clearing stand a boxer,
and a fighter by his trade, and he
carries a reminder of every glove that laid him down
or clapped him 'til he cried out,
in his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving, but
the fighter still remains."
You know that old saw about how you should never act with kids or animals, because they'll upstage you? I've always thought if that happened, the actor in question wasn't all that good to begin with. Anyways, I'd change the "kids and animals" part of that sentence to "Daniel Day-Lewis". The problem with The Boxer (1997) is that, in this case, Daniel Day-Lewis upstages the entire movie.
Set in West Belfast during the tail end of the Troubles, The Boxer follows one Danny Flynn (Day-Lewis), released from prison fourteen years after his role in an IRA bombing. Danny's done with fighting - he's cut himself off from his old IRA friends and contacts, and just wants the killing to stop, and so he resurrects the old nonsectarian boxing club that petered out during his incarceration. Though he still enjoys boxing, he doesn't want to fight so much as he wants to make a statement - a fact his old friends and new enemies are well aware of. On top of this, the IRA is in the middle of a deadly rift, as leader Joe is contemplating a cease-fire unpopular with the men who remain out for as much British and Protestant blood as possible, and their competing interests make Danny a threat to both. On top of this, prior to his arrest Danny was involved with Joe's daughter, Maggie (Emily Watson, Punch-Drunk Love), and though its been fourteen years and Maggie is now married to Danny's best friend (also incarcerated) and has a son, they're still itching to pick up where they left off. Ruh-roh!
The big problem with The Boxer is that the dialogue, from writer-director-producer Jim Sheridan (In the Name of the Father, In America), is of a grade I'd call "first-year film student". It's florid, melodramatic, and, at times, it's worse than bad, especially when Danny and Maggie talk about their feelings. It's hard to find the interesting things a film has to say when it says them so ill. The Boxer could have been a pretty good commentary on how when the other side won't back down and the adjudicator won't get involved, the only way to end a fight is by stopping it yourself - in this, Danny's actions parallel where Joe is headed. The film has some nice twists on the typical boxing movie; for example, Danny kept in shape in prison, and it's his former trainer who's the depressed, washed-up alcoholic. In the end, though, it's too long, not good enough, and the only reason to watch it if for Daniel Day Lewis' performance. Not that the rest of the main cast are slouches, but he's, well... There's a scene early on where Danny's having breakfast with his trainer after his first night out of jail, and he actually looks tired. I don't know how else to explain it, but most actors can't look truly tired - Day-Lewis makes his co-star's hungover alcoholic-in-withdrawal look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Yeah. Watch it if you'd like an acting lesson, otherwise, there are many better ways to spend an evening. And no, "The Boxer" was not written for The Boxer, as it's thirty years older, nor is it used in the film..
There are times when you can, in fact, judge a book by its cover. When you pick up a fantasy or sci-fi published after 1995 or so whose cover looks like bad Xena fan art, it's going to be pretty rare that what's on the inside doesn't read like bad Xena fan fic. Conversely, a closer look at the cover of Steve Lawhead's Scarlet shows the title lettering made to look like hammered metal, as one would see on an old arrowhead, and that genius detail laid over a standard image of a hangman's noose foreshadows this fantastic story's twists and improvements on the familiar Robin Hood myth. What got me to pick up Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policeman's Union was not the cover art, however, but the title itself. I mean, look at it! How could you resist?
Set in current times, The Yiddish Policeman's Union is an alternate history wherein the newborn state of Israel was destroyed three months after its creation, and the average developed nation is still doing everything it can to keep Jews off its soil. The only place they're allowed to have a large settlement is in the Alaskan wilderness, in a place no one but another undesirable people group wants. However, this settlement isn't permanent: appeals for statehood have been rejected, and as our story opens the Sitka district will be reverting to American property in three months, its residents mostly displaced. It is amongst this backdrop that worn out, alcoholic, suicidal homicide detective Meyer Landsman gets a late-night call for a death at the seedy hotel he lives in. What appears to be a drug-related suicide is, of course, no suicide at all, and ties to his past (and other factors) draw Meyer and his converted Inuit partner Berko Shemets into a case no one wants them to touch. Toss guilt, envy, ex-wives, a Messiah prophecy, and the Jewish religious mafia into the mix, and out of the blender comes a book that is as pleasurable to read as it is tough.
The story is interesting, and a strong commentary on the consequences of the choices people make when they believe they have no choice. What really sets The Yiddish Policeman's Union apart, though, is the writing. Michael Chabon is an anomaly, a writer who uses his large vocabulary freely yet without pretension. It's unlikely there are any words in there you won't recognize - he just uses lots of them, in good variety, and to great effect. It's no surprise, then, that he's also great at turning a phrase, and his descriptions flutter back and forth between acutely hilarious and acutely heart-wrenching. On top of that, this book is written in third-person present tense ("Meyer walks into the room and sits down" instead of "Meyer walked into the room and sat down"), a mode I've never before seen successful. It should have felt strange, but in Chabon's hands, this unusual style flows as normally as his words.
If you pick up this book because you noticed it won a Hugo and was shortlisted for the BSFA, you may be disappointed. Alternate history is not science fiction, and as there's no unusual or different technological aspect to the items character here use in their everyday lives, I really can't see how it qualified for the award. The Yiddish Policeman's Union is not a sci-fi, but it is one of the best novels you'll likely ever read. As I was reading it, I thought to myself, "I'd like to see this made into a movie by the Coen brothers." Well, guess who already had that idea? It should be out in the next couple of years, and it's one of the only adaptations I've ever looked forward to.
The problem with having read a lot of sci-fi over the past fifteen years is that it often seems I've read all the good stuff. There are some incredible exceptions to that rule - see: Alastair Reynolds - but otherwise, unfamiliar sci-fi lit is a risky business for the reader. There's an awful lot of crap out there. Some days I feel daring, but lately I've been going with what I know, so when I saw Robert A. Heinlein's name on the cover of Variable Star, I took it home. However, Heinlein's wasn't the only name on the cover. Variable Star was written by Spider Robinson, some twenty years after Heinlein's death, when the executors of his estate came across a draft for a story they really wanted to read in completion. I would like to read the story Heinlein would have written, too; unfortunately, previous experience tells me Variable Star is not it.
The plot is classic Heinlein, involving interstellar colonization and young men, and for the first fifteen pages or so, the execution is excellent - Robinson's stated intention was to write the book Heinlein would have written, and within those fifteen pages, I would never guess that it wasn't written by the master. Unfortunately, the book takes a pretty sharp downturn, with the protagonist adopting a very contemporary form of immaturity as well as the false growth and false profound epiphanies that are meant to be his triumph. Think of Zach Braff's film Garden State, or any episode of Scrubs, and you'll get what I mean by that. However, the thing that makes Variable Star most unlike a Heinlein novel is that it contains somewhere between seven and eight times the swearing (this estimate is probably low). And it's that casual, thoughtless, "nothing better to say" sort of swearing, to boot - in other words, lazy, lousy writing.
Don't be fooled by Robert A. Heinlein's good name on the cover of Variable Star. Grab something he actually wrote, and don't look back.
They just don't make action films like they used to. I'm not saying there are no good action films anymore, on the contrary there have been some excellent ones this decade (see: Iron Man, Sahara, Indiana Jones IV, Batman Begins/The Dark Knight, Spider-Man 2, Casino Royale, and anything with the word "Bourne" in the title). What I mean when I say they don't make action films like they used to is, simply, that they don't make action films like they used to. The action of the current decade has a completely different flavour, style, and, often, message than the action of the 90's. When I want to sit down for an entertaining afternoon of things going boom, The Bourne Identity will never fit that bill - I'll pop in my special edition of The Rock, or go rent The Saint (which I used to own - did you borrow my copy and never return it?) or, most recently, The Hunt for Red October (also not in vogue anymore: action films involving submarines, or Russian villains. Too bad, really).
Starring Alec Baldwin, Sean Connery, Sam Neill, and featuring most of the small army of guys seen in virtually every action film of the time - as well as appearances from Gates "Dr. Crusher" McFadden and James Earl Jones, and that rarest of all 90's film creatures, Tim Curry not playing a villain - The Hunt for Red October is based on Tom Clancy's novel of the same name, and is not only a fantastically entertaining picture but also one of the best literary adaptations to date. It's the mid-80s and those crazy Russians are playing underwater cat-and-mouse again, and photos of an unidentified new technology on the Russian nuclear sub Red October land in the lap of young naval historian-turned-CIA analyst Jack Ryan (Baldwin) to puzzle over. To make matters more pressing, the Red October is heading, in defiance of Moscow, straight for U.S. waters. Moscow knows the October is defecting, thanks to a letter mailed prior to setting out by her captain, Marko Ramius (Sean Connery), but is content to cover up the shame of this loss by encouraging the U.S. Navy's belief that Ramius has gone rogue and is planning to fire missiles on the East Coast - a belief that will most likely result in the sub's destruction. Ryan's job is to analyze, and in the process of analyzing he soon comes to the independent conclusion that Ramius is defecting, which creates a series of problems. The sub is far too valuable to risk destroying if Ryan is right; however, proving or disproving his conclusions will require both tricky diplomacy and tricky military manoeuvering. On top of that, the Russian navy is on standing orders to destroy the Red October on sight. The Americans want to find her. The Russians want to sink her. The Americans want the Russians to think they want to sink her. The hunt is on.
The Hunt for Red October is smooth, smart, and packed with great performances, solid action, and memorable moments. Ryan's boarding of the U.S.S. Dallas, cheerfully greeting her commander between bouts of puking sea water all of the deck ("It's a pleasure to be aboard, sir!"), is one of my all-time favourite "dramatic" entrances. Most impressive, this is one literary adaptation that didn't leave me feeling like anything was missing. Granted, it's one of Clancy's shorter novels, but this is still a significant feat. And then there are all the welcome little things inherent in Clancy's work and which should be inherent in any film based on his work, that affirm that soldiers are not stupid. On top of all that, Jack Ryan is a fantastic character and one of (if not the) best non-action-heroes. As a former Marine eased out of the service after breaking his back in a chopper crash, he respects the military and knows how it operates. That being said, by the time we meet him he's a professional academic, which means that although he's familiar with military thought processes, he thinks like the academic that he's become. One thing that means is that The Hunt for Red October is thankfully devoid of any stupid, manufactured drama based on the maverick "intellectual" outsider clashing with the hotheaded big dumb ape military man - Ryan and his naval allies can't agree on everything, but they disagree for good and logical reasons and understand what the other needs, even if they can't provide it.
Having read all the Jack Ryan books plus Mr. Clark's backstory (Without Remorse) before seeing any of the films (four out of six books have been adapted to date), The Hunt for Red October remains my favourite. It's the most well-made - enlisting John McTiernan (Die Hard) as director probably helped there - and Alec Baldwin nailed the character. I really didn't like either Harrison Ford or Ben Affleck in the Jack Ryan role, and no film yet has done justice to Mr. Clark, the secondary character and black-ops king who's, oddly enough, my favourite person in the Jack Ryan series (though Liev Schrieber in The Sum of All Fears came close). Seeing as how Mr. Clark isn't in The Hunt for Red October, there's nothing to detract from the film on that end of things. Lucky film.
I'm trying to think of a better action film that's entertaining and smart without being grim, and aren't coming up with anything. This is a fantastic picture, and if you've never seen it I would go so far as to say you're missing out.
So, how about those season (series?) finales of Life and Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles? Both excellent shows with excellent writing staffs, both currently not renewed for a third season, and both smart and polite enough to, in light of potential cancellation, not attempt to bully Fox and NBC by ending on cliff-hangers that would be more likely to leave loyal viewers frustrated than tempt network execs. In other words, should either or both of these shows not re-appear in the fall, I'll miss them, but won't be fretting over unfinished business. This also means they'll make better DVD sets.
I was quite satisfied with the explanation of Mickey Rayborn's interest in Charlie, and the simplicity of Roman Nemikov's interest in both of them. And the simplicity of how Charlie dealt with Roman. And how Tidwell and Seever know the intelligent limits of lying to the brass. I really hope they get a third season. Over on Terminator, which has been airing episodes that would be any other show's season finale for the past five weeks or so, they continued their circular storytelling, and while enough questions were left open to make a third season a very worthwhile and welcome endeavour, enough questions were answered as well. For example, the confirmation that the liquid terminators and John Henry are in opposition to SkyNet, and why Derek's hate for Cameron seemed to go beyond her machine nature. Fantastic TV. What would happen if they got a next season? Would they do the paradox route, wherein John became such a great leader not because he lived through Judgment Day, but because he spent his life being trained and then skipped right over it, coming out young and ready on the other side? Or does Weaver have a way to get them back to the past as soon as they find John Henry? (More likely the latter, as the former would require the return of Brian Austin Green) What happened/will happen to change the liquid's answer to the question, "will you join us?" Did the angelic imagery or Weaver spreading out her mass to create a wing-like shield wall over John and co. foreshadow the liquid terminators becoming the angels to John's messiah? Now, that would be interesting.
While it's more probable that these superior productions will be replaced by reality TV on Fox, or Jay Leno's five-night 10 p.m. slot on NBC, or yet another low-grade, "quirky", police/forensic procedural that took its premise from theyfightcrime.org (could be either network), I hope to seem them again. And if I don't, I'll thank the writers for ending them well.
You don't hear a lot about the booming art exports of Wales, but there have been some fine ones. The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill and Came Down A Mountain is a film that more or less defines the terms "charming" and "pleasant", and the Stereophonics Word Gets Around remains (in my mind) one of the greatest rock 'n roll theme albums recorded to date. Also, the place just looks great. Why wouldn't it be the vacation destination of choice for relocated hitmen?
The Baker (2007), starring Damien Lewis (Life, Band of Brothers) and written and directed by Gareth Lewis (or, as the former probably calls him, "my brother"), is a joint UK-Wales production that can be best described as averagely enjoyable. When professional assassin Milo pulls a Jason Bourne and discovers, in the middle of a hit, that he's ready for a career change, his boss (Michael Gambon) sends him out to "the country" to lay low and get his head together. It turns out that "the country" is in fact a tiny village in Wales, and the small flat Milo's boss has made available to him happens to be the upstairs portion of a bakery, leading the locals to assume that Milo is their replacement baker. Of course, this particular cover is one Milo isn't, shall we say, well qualified to assume. Fortunately, this turns out to not be a problem, as the village's young dimwit hooligan discovers Milo's buried gun case on his first day in town, puts two and two together, and promptly tells everyone who will listen ("It must be his codename - The Baker!"). The locals decide that one orders hits by ordering chocolate cakes, and the clueless Milo starts feeling very affirmed as he slowly learns his new trade and discovers the pleasures of a quiet, peaceful life. Of course, he also discovers the pleasures of a looney Welsh girlfriend. And, of course, someone has a hit on him, which means said looney girlfriend is in danger as well. But Milo doesn't know this. He just thinks the villagers really like his baking.
We saw this film in the Rogers cheap bin and picked it up because we're big fans of Damien Lewis' work, and as a cherry on the cake Nikolaj Coster-Waldau of the short-lived and underrated New Amsterdam makes a fun appearance as Milo's ridiculous, German techno-loving nemesis . (Tangent: Coster-Waldau's Amsterdam co-star Zuleikha Robinson is currently guest starring in a multi-episode arc on Lost. Ha! Thought you could get rid of 'em, eh, Fox Network?) The Baker also answers the burning question, "What does Damien Lewis really sound like?" I also appreciated that the plot wasn't centered around whether or not Milo's cover would be blown, but when he would realise that it's already been blown, and the locals hate each other and are quite excited to have a hitman in their midst. Thrown in what may very well be the most un-sexy comedic sex scene ever conceived - I hope, for Lewis' sake, that was sweetened cocoa - and an impromptu, full-cast pub sing-along of the Gipsy Kings' "Volare", and the film has humour for every temperment: strange, sweet, morbid, and British. That being said, I stick by my original assessment of "averagely enjoyable". The Baker is not great, but neither is it mediocre. It's a "lazy weekend" sort of film, well suited to lounging and snacking.
The most recent episode of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles - "Adam Raised a Cain" - was not only some of if not the best TV I've ever seen, it was also notable for wresting a dubious achievement away from the Japanese: Most Sudden, Unforseen, and Unceremonious Death of a Major Character in a Series or Film. If you blinked, you'd have missed it.
Not that this is a bad thing - no one being safe, that is - though in terms of the plot it may turn out to be a mistake...but maybe not, as earlier in the episode, when Sarah was trying to convince Cameron not to murder Ellis, they wound up having a conversation about how you don't kill for no reason. Also, Terminator's scribes are to the best of my experience the best storytellers in the industry right now.
And John Henry's song...little Savannah taught him to sing a goofy folk song she must have learned from her Scottish mother, a song about a Scotsman wandering to and fro and eventually winding up in London, wearing a kilt regardless of the wind or other risks of exposure/humiliation, with the repeating refrain "Donald, where's your trousers?" The series is about being strangers in a strange land (i.e. the Scot in Britain), and this episode in particular was about risk, exposure, and being caught with one's pants down. What a brilliant use of a silly, silly song to contrast and help cope with the death in this episode, and perhaps it was also a subtle but searing indictment of the legions of people who think Terminator - and sci-fi in general, especially shows on which stuff goes boom - is just brainless entertainment.
If you haven't been watching this show....well, wait until the end of the season and rent or buy it when it comes out; it's well worth paying to watch.
