by Bruce E. Parry

I’m playing catch up with my movie blogs here. I saw this some time ago and got behind, so I’m just now trying to get caught up.

I really wanted to see this film because Muhammad Ali is one of my heroes. He really took a stand against going to Vietnam and was willing to pay the price for it. It could have ruined his life. He didn’t let it. By what he did, he became a leader of both the civil rights movement and the anti-war movement. For me, as a veteran, I recognize that the anti-war movement saved thousands of lives. I am convinced that without that movement, there would have been no reason—no impetus—for any politician—particularly Richard Nixon—to end the war.

I was, of course, familiar with the story of Muhammad Ali as I lived through it and followed it with great interest at the time. The movie both filled in details I never knew and refreshed my memory of both the events and the time period. In doing so, it brought me back to the 1960s and early 1970s, a seminal period in my life.

Just saying that the movie transported me back to that period says a lot about the documentary. It was excellent in its portrayal and pace. It incorporated film and TV from the period and interspersed still shots. They all gave that real period feel because they were from it. There were also contemporary interviews of family members and associates that gave background and kept the movie rooted in our present understanding of Ali’s historic role. The balance was exceptional.

I was also surprised at how long the media (particularly) kept referring to Ali as Cassius Clay. I thought the transition, while controversial at the time, was relatively swift. Not so. Years after his conversion to Islam and adoption of his new name, the media continued to refer to him as Clay. Even the Supreme Court decision of 1971 made reference to him as Clay AKA Muhammad Ali.

The film also brought back the inherent discomfort America felt with the Black Muslims of the period. The growth of Islam in the world and particularly in the U.S. has at least made the religion known to a broad section of the population, even if it is not fully accepted. At that time, Islam in the U.S. was new and quite threatening to many. That comes across very emphatically in the film. 

Ali’s commitment to Islam also comes across emphatically. At one point during a TV interview, he challenges the interviewer by demanding to know why the interviewer would think that he would recant the very truth that had led him to take the stand he did that led him to be on the show in the first place. Of course he wouldn’t. The strength of his views, the commitment to them, and his willingness to be in the media’s face was refreshing and inspiring.

Ali is a brave man to have stood up and been counted. He was a great fighter—the greatest—and he equalled the physical with the moral. He stands as the greatest sportsman of the 20th century for both his athletic prowess and his moral courage. I’m really glad I had the opportunity to see this film in the theaters. I strongly recommend people look for it on DVD if you missed that short theater run.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

https://bruceeparry.wordpress.com/2013/12/03/the-trials-of-muhammad-ali-2013/

by Bruce E. Parry

I liked this film the best of the three films in the (so far) trilogy (Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004) are its predecessors). In this film, Jesse has divorced his wife in the U.S. and is living with Celine in Paris with their twin girls. It has been nine years since they linked up at the end of the last film and 18 years since they first met in the first film.

The first thing I liked about it is that it involves a lot more characters at the beginning of the film, so the interaction is more complex, very nuanced and quite interesting. The characters come from different age groups and present different views of marriage and relationships that I found quite interesting. And, of course, the points of view are presented by both men and women. Jesse and Celine are part of the mix and play off the others in their dialog. It is the kind of dialog that made both of the first two films interesting.

As with all films, the beginning sets up the conflicts that play out through the rest of the film. We meet Jesse’s son, Hank, who is departing for the U.S. after having “the best summer of his life.” We see Jesse and Celine’s twins and Celine announces a new job opportunity. They discuss the  contradictions inherent in these situations constructively and seem—along with the other couples they interact with—to be the happy duo.

It’s their last night, so one of the other couples has given them a gift: a night in the local swanky hotel. They walk to the hotel and the discussion begins. As with the other films, their discussion is done in a very long single-shot take that is quite noticeable and adds depth to their marital discourse. 

When they get to the hotel, the discussion devolves into what I can only call a destructive argument. Jesse feels the need to move back to the U.S. to be near his son during his formative high school years. This is in direct conflict with Celine’s new job opportunity, which it turns out, she sees more like the opportunity of a lifetime than she had let on. She feels Jesse is suppressing her for his own, selfish needs and the whole thing gets really ugly.

I won’t get into the rest of it, but I really felt like this was marriage. A friend of mine once said that his marriage (of many years) was a process of him and his wife falling in and out of love with each other. Another friend, also in a marriage of long standing, said he was still married because he and his wife never wanted to get divorced at the same time. In my experience. that’s the way marriage is. You get in arguments, you go through difficulties, you experience real antagonism and, if it is to last, you stick with it. Part of the deal with the movie is that they are only about 40 years old. At that age some of this hasn’t fully sunk in yet. It takes more life experience than that—at least it has in my case—before we integrate these feelings and lessons.

And I think that’s the key to the three films. They feel like real life. The first feels like unrequited young love. The second feels like a searching for something that was lost. The third feels like a real marriage. In short, I can identify with all three from my personal experience and that is essential to appreciating a film.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

https://bruceeparry.wordpress.com/2013/11/11/before-midnight-2013/

by Bruce E. Parry

I really appreciated 12 Years A Slave because it exposed me to the horrors of slavery and captivity in a way that I could identify with. Its strength and weakness are the same: the movie is about Mr. Solomon Northrup, a freeman who is kidnapped into slavery in the period before the Civil War. The movie is based on his book, published in 1853. The ability to identify is there because I could relate to having my freedom stolen from me. At the same time, that was the weakness of the film, because it could not fully depict the horror of there being no chance of release from slavery. That, of course, was the condition of 4 million Americans prior to the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863 and the 13th Amendment to the Constitution passed in 1864.

The movie was graphic in its depiction of the horrors of slavery. From the regular whippings and beatings wrought on the slaves, including Plat (they stole Solomon Northrup’s name and renamed him Plat), to the murders and hangings, to the theft of children and destruction of families, to the personal degradations at the whim of any white person. It’s all there. The graphic portrayal of the wounds suffered in the beatings, the pain and the tenderness shown by others is there. There is the  enforced indifference of slaves to another slave being hung before them: if they show concern, it will be visited upon them as well. The film transported me to that time and the impossibility of escape from the entire institution of slavery. Hope was dashed time after time, betrayal after betrayal.

It occurs to me that by its very nature, a film—including this one—cannot really portray the horror of what we are seeing on the screen. I am reminded of a review of Philadelphia (1993). The film was instrumental in changing the American public’s perception and concern about the AIDS epidemic. The review, however, chastised the film for failing to be as brutally honest as it could be.

However, film making is the art of story telling and story telling requires a nuanced understanding of the audience as well as the story. What is the audience ready to hear or see? What can they comprehend. Philadelphia changed millions of minds. A more brutal rendition would not have reached the audiences Philadelphia did and therefore wouldn’t have had the impact the film did. Hence, I defended Philadelphia as appropriate for that moment.

12 Years A Slave is—for me—in the same category. What it portrays is an understanding of the brutality of slavery as an institution that can be accepted by a broad audience and—I believe—will have an important impact. I think the film is a brilliant example of story telling of a story that needs to be told and retold to each generation. It is beyond what has been done before and I am sure it will not go as far as its future successors. But it is right for the moment.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

https://bruceeparry.wordpress.com/2013/11/07/12-years-a-slave-2013/

by Bruce E. Parry

Two young people (twenties) in Europe meet on a train, hit it off and spend just one magical night together. I have experienced that (not literally) and it is a most important aspect of growing up and falling in love. The essence for me here is not the particular story, but the feeling of complete freedom to be yourself. (It occurs to me that it is also the complete freedom to be someone you’re not, to act, but that would—it seems to me—negate the experience altogether). Two people, without commitment, get to be with each other and to experience each other without “baggage” and without expectation.

Of course, they fall in love. Knowing before hand that this is the first film of a trilogy, I cannot help but wonder what transpires in the second two episodes. But the film stands on its own. The film is beautiful—as it must be to work—being filmed in Vienna. The closing shots are revealing of both their relationship and the magical city itself: it is the morning of the next day and everything that was magical before, everything that was mystical, transcendent, beautiful and unique, is now shut down and just a regular city (block, park, cemetery, sidewalk).  The magic is between the two lovers.

The idea of the film is so beautiful and meaningful to me that I almost hate to shovel it into the ditch of analysis. But I will. The story was there. I knew how it would unfold because it could only unfold one way. But I could not get into their relationship. It was portrayed. I could tell it was there. I remember the feelings I had in the same kind of situation, but I could not feel their love. Whether it was my age and being too jaded, whether it was my mood, or whatever, I didn’t feel it. And I wanted to. That was the tragedy. I understood what the film was doing, where it was going and how it would conclude, but I couldn’t feel it.

I could feel her (Celine, played by Julie Delpy) and react to her, but I couldn’t feel Ethan Hawke (Jesse). First, I thought of him as Ethan Hawke the entire film, not Jesse. Not so with Celine, perhaps because I was unfamiliar with her as an actress. Second, I couldn’t identify with what he said or how he said it. It was—generational or experiential gap?—different than the way I would have reacted, different from what I would have said, different from how I would have reacted to what Celine said, and different from the way I view the world. Not so different that I couldn’t see what was happening; just different enough that it was jarring for me.

I am a sucker for schmaltz. All kinds of films have been able to engage my heart. I am not sure why this one didn’t, particularly since its theme—and writing—was beyond schmaltz. It seemed to be the real thing. That’s why I’m disappointed.

Yet, I still want to see how it unfolds as a trilogy. I am intrigued. I have been pulled in enough to want to continue on with the project. I think that there are so many ways it could go from that first magical evening. I wonder which path will be chosen.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

by Bruce E. Parry

This is my final review of Primer, after having seen it with my Movie Group and reflecting my changed perceptions after sharing with my friends and hearing their input. I pretty much stand by my last review, but have a deepened understanding of the technical aspects, including the camera work, the story, and the appeal of the film.

I really underestimated the camera work. I have referred to it in both previous reviews, but didn’t appreciate its subtlety until going over it with the group. In the group, the Blair Witch Project(1999) came up again (from Patrick) as another film where the feeling of the camera work is that you, the viewer, are in the film and part of the action. In the Blair Witch Project this was accomplished by using the hand held camera extensively. While there are some hand held camera shots in Primer, here it is accomplished more by using intimate shots of the details of what the characters are going through, using a graininess in many of the shots, and many of the shots—to my mind—having the feel of an amateur cameraman showing us the unfolding drama.

That said, the camera work is anything but amateur; it is of the highest order. The shots are composed beautifully. Many shots are extremely creative. We had extensive discussion about the shot from above Abe’s apartment, looking down on Aaron and Abe at Aaron’s truck. Half the shot is illuminated concrete that is very bright, very soft and reminiscent of the shot of Abe looking down on Aaron, used twice elsewhere in the film. The truck shot has the truck exactly parallel to the concrete. The overall effect is amazing. It is followed a moment later by an opposite shot, also down on the truck, but from a rear angle, with a section of the scene entirely in black. The second shot lasts only a split second, but creates a mesmerizing, balancing effect.

Throughout the film, the camera reflects either the content of the film, or, in some cases, the opposite reality of what appears to be happening. Some of the circling shots, where the camera actually circles 360 degrees around Aaron, for instance, reflect he hyperbolic nature of the time travel that is being discussed. That circular theme is repeated with the basketball that Aaron is playing with as well and in other aspects of the scene.

There are some scenes that are ambiguous. We had a significant discussion about whether the film is completely understandable in the final analysis. I think not, but others (David) suspected that with more viewing, it is. There is a scene where Abe puts a gas mask—we assume from the previous dialog that it is nitrous oxide—over another incarnation of Abe. The only way I knew they were both Abe was from the Director’s commentary and that was the only story aspect revealed in that commentary. But what was he doing? Nitrous oxide just puts the other Abe to sleep. Then the first Abe comes out looking like he killed him (himself, his other self). The scene is totally ambiguous to me.

There is also the aspect of the timelines. The voiceover throughout the film is Aaron, but it seems to take on different voices or points of view at different times in the film. At the beginning, it is clearly a phone call. Later it appears to be a god-like commentary. Still later, it is clearly an Aaron who has full knowledge of the events that have taken place due to time travel. Is it Aaron number one or Aaron number two or who? 

I believe that we could do a detailed analysis of the film based solely on what the characters are wearing. The ties that are ubiquitous throughout the film may show which Abe and Aaron we are dealing with at any particular time. Later they are shown without ties, in sweaters, in underwear, etc. There seems to be continuity (and discontinuity) in their clothes, but it is extremely hard to follow. The ear pieces give important hints as well.

All this brings us back to understanding the story and whether that is important or not. I think that one of the most attractive aspects of the film is trying to figure out the story line and whether it is fully comprehensible or not. As mentioned, one of our group thought it might be; I am not convinced. But trying to understand it (as predicted) is a huge part of our discussion and the overall attractiveness of Primer. While I think that the relationships—particularly the deteriorating relationship between Abe and Aaron—are the key to the success of the film, understanding the story line to some degree is part and parcel of unravelling the interactions among the characters. 

One of the things that came out in group was that a driving force in Aaron is his need to become a hero. He actually goes back in time to reconstruct what happens at the party so that the guy with the shotgun is apprehended and jailed after the party. But the question remains open as to what the guy with the shotgun actually did at the party. There is no indication that he shot anyone, especially Rachel. Furthermore, Aaron—who goes back to reconstruct all this—wasn’t even at the original party. However, if the danger to the partygoers—Rachel—wasn’t great, then why did Tom Granger go back in time as well? And what happened to him anyway? That is never resolved in the film. 

The hero aspect of the Aaron character seems to be what drives the conflict between Abe and Aaron and what leads to the culmination of the film. Abe is concerned more with the safety of Aaron’s wife and kids than Aaron is. That, too, is part of the final conflict when Aaron leaves. Finally, an important aspect of Aaron going back are his control issues. He reconstructs the party, but after all is said and done, he is building an even larger box. After all that has happened, I have to ask, why would he do that? What does he want to do with it? What does he expect to happen? He’s had to leave (leaving behind other Aarons) after what’s already happened. What will his continued interference with time and causality do in the future?

I think this is the appeal of the film. As I said in the last review (more generally), it is the unresolved nature of life, the conflict and confusion that we experience, that is reflected in the action of the film, that makes it attractive. At the same time, the beauty of the camera work and technical aspects of the film, coupled with the intriguing complexity of the story keep us absorbed in the film and have lad to this becoming a cult classic. I think that the film bears (demands?) multiple watchings and that it grows with each one, just like the storyline itself.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

by Bruce E. Parry

This is my second review of Primer, done after I’ve seen the film four or five times, including listening to the Director’s Commentary. I want to do this review before the Movie Group, so that I can do a third review after the Movie Group, focusing on what changed for me as a result of the group.

First, let me say that my first review was really quite wrong. After actually watching the film more closely and listening to the commentary, I realize there are not a lot of hand-held camera shots. It is the grainy and unconventional nature of the shots that make them seem to be done by an amateur cameraman in a way that makes you feel like you are in the film. That was correct; the technique I quoted for achieving it was wrong in the first review.

Second, the Director’s Commentary was all about how they made the film. At first I thought that the Producer/Director/Writer/Star, Shane Carruth, was just preoccupied with the details of making the film. Then it hit me: he doesn’t want to talk about the story; the film stands on its own and doesn’t need further explanation. That’s why most commentaries are that way. I have to decipher the story for myself.

And that, I think, is the key to the attraction of this movie. It seems to occupy us with trying to figure out the details of what’s happening in what order. Does it make sense? Does everything come together in the end? I believe that my tendency is to think that the directors and writers of films make movies that make sense and when I don’t understand them, I need to go back, rewatch the film and make sense of it.

Wrong! I don’t think that this film tracks. In Pulp Fiction (1994), the film is purposely cut out of chronological oder. I figured out what order things had to go in to make sense and when I did, everything made sense. But Primer deals with time travel and paradoxes and I don’t think there was ever an intent to make the film totally coherent. In fact, I think that is a large part of its charm. Nevertheless, it makes enough sense to keep us locked in and coming back for more. That said, I’ll bet that the majority of conversations about the movie, including in my upcoming Movie Group, are about making sense of the time travel and logic of the film.

I think the real attraction of the film lies in the developing conflict between Aaron and Abe, the confusion that results and the incomprehensibility of time travel. The characters are as confused as people in real life. Real life is difficult. It is impossible to know what all the factors, all the parts of any problem or situation are. The movie is the same way. Time travel presents indeterminate dilemmas that are only resolved in practice buy the “last iteration” of the event. And then the players don’t know what happened before. Just like life. This creates—between the two key time travelers—a growing conflict that is never really resolved. They separate, but that doesn’t “solve” anything, just like life. 

Life is confusion, incomplete knowledge and conflict and those are the themes of the film. Life is also comprehension, insight and love, and the movie has those, too. They come in the development of the time machine, in understanding its looping process, in seeing how it can be used (for better and for worse) and in trusting each other in the process of invention and use. The loss of control through the replication of Aaron, Abe, Thomas Granger, and ultimately the machine itself, creates the ultimate clash.

After watching the film all these times, I have to ask, “How many Aaron’s are there? How many Abe’s?” It seems that every time they go through the machine, another double is created. When Aaron is trying to resolve the issue of the shotgun at the party, they ask whether he might not have gone through 20 times. If he had, wouldn’t there be 20 Aaron’s running around? That would create conflict no matter what happened or who was involved. Talk about multiple personality disorder!

I am beginning to see why this is a “cult classic.” It took a while, but the movie is a real reflection of life and its ups and downs. I guess all good movies are, but this one snuck up on me. I liked it, but it took a while to put my finger on what was attractive about it. I’ll write a short blog on what I learned and felt at Movie Group (unless, of course, I need to write a long one). I’m fascinated to see what others have seen in this film.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

by Bruce E. Parry

I saw The Fifth Estate the other day because I consider Julian Assange a hero for creating WikiLeaks, exposing the secrets that our government is keeping and for generally fighting for an open and transparent society. The movie is a docu-drama. It contains a lot of actual footage of events, but the characters are played by actors and the story unfolds through a script. As such, it is part of a growing genre that will basically—if left unchallenged—present as factual our history for the children of today and future generations.

As the Julian Assange character says at the very end of the film, “No one can tell you the truth. They only tell you the truth from their perspective. If you want the truth, you have to go out and find it.” (I paraphrase). And therein lies the problem I have with the film. While it is never made explicit, the film is told from Daniel Berg’s point of view. He was the assistant (albeit a very integral part of the operation for some time) who broke with Assange and—according to the film—actually tried to shut down the WikiLeaks site. Berg wrote a book on the subject in 2011 and its seems to me it was a major source for the film.

As a film, I thought it very entertaining. There is a lot of character development and interaction. In fact it is a psychological thriller as much as anything else. It goes into detail about the relationship between Berg and Assange and between Berg and his girlfriend, Brigitta. The taut interaction is, in itself, a tale of complexity and nuance. Much of the technical aspect is treated with film analogy. For instance, the crashing of the site is shown in the film as a burned out wasteland. This technique can be both distracting and clarifying. There is little  doubt what is meant, but it certainly comes across as jarring in comparison to other parts of the film.

The key to the film is the treatment of Assange. Assange comes across as driven, unfeeling, a survivor of complex childhood abuse and nearly sociopathic. I, of course, have no idea whether that is an accurate assessment of him or not. But, even assuming it is, he is also the one who put together WikiLeaks and kept it going. He is the one, in the final analysis, that released the documents unedited so the entire world could see behind the curtain of the governments of the major powers of the world, particularly that of the U.S. It was Assange, not Berg, who was able to stay the course and do what needed to be done. The movie presents Assange as having gone “too far” and Berg as being more balanced. I have no doubt Berg may be more balanced, but he wasn’t the heroic force behind WikiLeaks, no matter how much work he put in. Assange was and is.

My experience is that there are a lot of real leaders, people who emerge by the brilliance of their original ideas who are really eccentric. Steve Jobs appears to have been one, to pick a recent example. Assange appears to be one as well. His personal quirks are at the root of both his creativity—that he would dream up the idea in the first place—and the commitment that makes him maniacal about carrying out his mission. Assange says in the film that there are lots of ideas, it is commitment people lack to carry them out. Assange has that commitment, and if it is over the top, so are both the mission he is committed to and the forces arrayed against him.

The film rightly points out that the real danger to the world is the real violence—the real murder—committed by these governments that is exposed by the documents; it is not the hypothetical danger created by the release of the documents. In the film, Berg doesn’t seem to be able to handle that fact. He isn’t able to carry the mission through to its logical conclusion.

The film does not present that perspective and that is my major critique of it. Its strength is that if one is looking for that perspective, you can pry it from what the film does present. I think that everyone interested in and committed to real social change will find the film fascinating and well worth seeing. I did.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

by Bruce E. Parry

Let me start by saying that this review is after the first recent viewing of this film in preparation for watching it for and with my Movie Group (see the associated blog on my Movie Group). By the time the Movie Group meets, I will have seen it several times, may have blogged again about it, and will be ready to discuss it with my friends. That said, I also believe that I saw this film when it came out in 2004 and completely forgot about it until I rewatched it this time.

And that’s the essence of my review. I defy anyone to make sense of this film on first viewing. The best that can be gleaned from it is that the young men (kids) involved—and the film—go back and forth in time and in the process have some adventures, including trying to change the time line. There is probably someone out there who will refute my claim, but anyone who grasped the complexities of those comings and goings on first viewing would have to be a savant.

One of my Movie Group comrades—Nick—sent around a couple of links that clarify the movie. He recommended that we watch the film at least once before looking at the links. I did. Then I looked. One was a timeline that detailed nine (9!!) different timelines followed in the film. Even grasping faintly what was happening in the movie, I didn’t realize there were or could have been that many permutations of their time travel. They may be wrong, but they make my point for me. I still haven’t studied the sites, but at least I’m aware of their content for later study.

All that said, I love movies you have to rewatch to clearly grasp. At least I love them if I am confident that there is an actual consistent story that is unfolding. These are like David Lynch films. Watch Mullholland Dr.(2001). It is almost impossible to figure out what is going on in the film in detail the first time out. What you get is a feeling. The details are left up to subsequent viewings. Primer is like that. I left me with a carefully developed, nuanced feeling that something is going on here, that the characters are striving to make things right, and that the film is populated with human characters worth knowing. The details—and they are myriad—come later (I hope).

Much of the mood is set by the fact that almost the entire movie is filmed with hand-held cameras, leaving you with the feeling that you’re in the garage (or wherever) with the characters and are part of the plot. This technique emerged in the popular consciousness with The Blair Witch Project (1999) which made you feel like a camper having the same experience as the characters. Primer does the same thing, except that you (I) don’t really understand what’s going on (yet).

Plus, the film takes place in the present. While we haven’t captured time travel yet, the kids stumble on it by accident using present-day technology that even they don’t fully understand. Their level of understanding of physics, math and engineering is carefully revealed in the film, but that just makes them smart, not futuristic. The result is that the film is accessible and that viewer feels like his or her participation is plausible. Combined with the camera work, this makes for an absorbing film.

The upshot of all this is that I am really looking forward to seeing this film again and again, until I understand it. I also look forward to my Movie Group bringing some insight of what is—or may be—going on in the film. Stay tuned for further posts!

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

by Bruce E. Parry

Quartet is a really moving, deeply emotional British film that explores relationships in older age. It is Dustin Hoffman’s recent directoral debut. (He is credited with directing Straight Time in 1978, but there is a story there). Essentially, a group of elderly men and women live in a charitable home for retired musicians in England and are about to put on their annual gala (on Verdi’s birthday) to fund the home. The film establishes the temperament and eccentricities of the characters in the first part of the film and then introduces the contradictory aspect: Maggie Smith (playing Jean Horton). Jean has been the most famous (and perhaps most talented) of the group, but has been difficult to get along with. More pointedly, she had been married (or not—it sounds like she left him at the altar or just hours thereafter) to Reggie, a stalwart of the community. Her arrival at the house is a social sea change. The resolution of this contradiction, the development of the relationships, and the transformation of the characters constitute the rest of the film.

The film is superbly acted and beautifully filmed. It takes place almost entirely within the house itself, lending it an almost play-like quality. Nevertheless, it does not seem confined or stilted and uses the grounds around the house to break up the interior shots.

What I really like about the film was that it got into what it’s like to get old. Films on aging are a growth industry right now, with the aging of the baby boomers and this film is part of that. Virtually every character has or is developing the difficult disabilities or illnesses that afflict the elderly. The characters display a lot of empathy toward each other and help each other through trials. Much of the conflict that arises with the arrival of Maggie Smith’s character revolves around the desire—particularly on the parts of Jean and Reggie—to avoid social contact. As they become resolved to the change—and change gets even harder the older we get—both parties begin to meld into the house social scene and begin to warm to each other. This is played out through the attempt to get the key foursome to recreate their performance of the Quartet from Verdi’s Rigoletto at the gala. Whether or not the Quartet is going to be performed provides the tension in the film.

I should note that the music in the film is beautiful. Almost all the background characters—residents of the house—are trained classical singers. The diversity of genres performed keeps the film balanced and from becoming overly “highbrow.”

My main criticism of the film is that I could not see Jean as anyone but Maggie Smith. She never developed into a character separate and above the actor who played her. In a situation where the central character is supposed to be ultra-famous, this isn’t a serious shortcoming. Perhaps in this film, that is exactly what Maggie’s character is supposed to be. But it didn‘t work for me. Perhaps because of the British cast, I was unfamiliar with  any of the other characters who were also supposed to be well known. Also, because opera is out of mainstream entertainment, few (Pavroti and a couple of others excepted) achieve super-star status. Thus, Maggie Smith stayed Maggie Smith for me.

This small caveat aside, however, I loved the film. I am a sucker for films in which interpersonal relationships are sympathetically developed, and this is certainly one. I think the pace of the film and the careful attention to balance—both in the scenery (not just the interior of the house) and in the music—were just right. Those attributes are the responsibility of the Director (and Editor, but even here the Director has input and you can’t edit what the Director doesn’t shoot). Hoffman did a great job. Kudos for a film well worth seeing.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry