Deborah Lipp

Bubble (2005) 10/10
Martha (Debbie Doebereiner), fortyish, works in a doll factory and cares for her dad. Kyle (Dustin Ashley), twentyish, her co-worker and best friend, lives with his mom, works two jobs, and is saving for a car. Their routine is shaken when Rose (Misty Wilkins) is hired at the factory. Directed by Steven Soderbergh.

You’ve probably never seen a movie like Bubble. It is not “naturalistic,” the way, say, Dogme 95 is naturalistic. It is, instead, actually natural. While the film style is in some ways conventional (none of the “shakey-cam” that characterizes most attempts at realism), the “actors” and “script” are not. Soderbergh and screenwriter Coleman Hough went to Parkersburg, West Virginia with a script that was basically a plot outline, cast the movie entirely with locals, and let the actors’ conversations about their own lives work their way into both the written script and improvisation.

I don’t know why it works. It is slow, sometimes dull, and virtually actionless. There are resentments, meaningful looks, thefts, even a murder, yet the overwhelming feeling is of nothing happening. At the same time, there is a compelling sense that life is happening, that this is real in a way that “reality television” is not. Every moment, every silence, every awkward, empty conversation, feels like life happening. I was riveted.

In his wonderful review of Bubble, Roger Ebert says

The movie feels so real a hush falls upon the audience, and we are made aware of how much artifice there is conventional acting.

Indeed. Watching at home alone, I felt that hush. When Arthur came in and asked what I was watching, I told him it was fascinating and tried to explain. He said “Why is that fascinating?” But ten minutes later, he said “This is fascinating.”

Bubble shows us lives lived in the empty spaces between what it provides and fails to provide. Martha is sweet to a fault, Kyle is shy to a fault, Rose is self-centered. These are small flaws, not dramatic undoings. But watch how these simple flaws ravel and unravel in the space between these people.

Three actors who have never acted before (or since, so far). (The secondary players are also locals with no acting experience to speak of.) They are amazing, perhaps both despite and because of their inexperience. They move through narrow lives. Martha is skilled at making dolls (and doll factories, let me tell you, are creepy places. Who knew?). Her work is not quite mindless, but it is repetitive. She has a nice car, suggesting that she is okay financially, but her life is lived mostly in front of the TV and the sewing machine, watching her father, feeding him, caring for him. Church exalts her, and then it’s back to work.

Again, this doesn’t sound like compelling film. My suggestion is simply to take my word for it and rent the movie.

Infamous (2006) 10/10
Truman Capote (Toby Jones), accompanied by Harper Lee (Sandra Bullock) travels to Kansas to write about the murder of the Clutter family.

Pity the makers of Infamous, who got caught in one of those weird filmmaking coincidences from which they could not escape. Like Valmont and Dangerous Liaisons, two films on the same subject matter were in production at virtually the same time, one won the awards, and the other was obscured. In the case of Dangerous Liaisons, I think the superior film won the accolades, but in the case of Infamous vs. Capote, I am not at all convinced.

What is extraordinarily admirable about Capote is its thoughtfulness and focus. It stares straight at Truman Capote without blinking, and that shows us quite a lot. Infamous takes a different approach. It is much more cinematic. It is full of movement and people, costumes and “moments.” It shows Capote in his true milieu, New York “society,” and it populates that milieu magnificently, with Diana Vreeland (Juliet Stevenson), with Babe Paley (Sigourney Weaver), with Slim Keith (Hope Davis), and many more. It shows Capote outside that milieu, stuck in Kansas, alienated and alienating. And it shows him becoming lost in the world of murderer Perry Smith (Daniel Craig); lost, absorbed, and falling in love.

Infamous has a broad focus, instead of meditating on the nature of truth, it shows us the swirling mess of life that Truman Capote distills into a personal version of truth. It shows him editing “verbatim quotes,” shows him lying to friends, to Perry Smith, and to himself. Am I lowbrow to find it more interesting when it’s more visual? When people move around more, when scenes change more? Am I crass to enjoy seeing how Capote struggles to adapt to Kansas? Is it cheesy to enjoy seeing the magnificent Daniel Craig grab and terrify Capote?

For me, this less meditative, more in-your-face film let me know something of the people involved, in addition to the ideas. I found it immensely enjoyable. It remains a thoughtful work, although the thinking is perhaps of a different sort. I found Capote to be a movie about narcissism and the “fourth wall” of truth, whereas Infamous seems to be more about the shifting way we decide what is really true, and how we use truth and falsehood in relationship. Truman Capote swears secrecy to Babe Paley when she divulges a confidence, and then tells Slim Keith the whole story. Of course it’s because they love Babe and care about what’s happening to her. Of course. And we’ve all been there, on one or both sides of that, and experienced the shifting ways in which betrayal can be seen as loyalty. Now juxtapose that commonplace scene with Capote swearing his loyalty and honesty to Perry Smith. It’s the same “small” two-faced fib, except that Perry is going to die, based in part on Capote’s truthfulness.

(Neither movie, by the way, is forthright in showing that Truman Capote financed Smith’s appeals when he needed more time for interviews, and withdrew financing when he needed the book to be done. As much as both movies endeavor to show the shifting nature of Capote’s honesty, this is just a bit too much, a bit too bare, for either movie to lay it out on the table.)

Infamous is going to end up being the forgotten movie about Truman Capote and In Cold Blood, and that’s a shame. It really is quite dazzling.

Dead Man (1995) 5/10
Accountant William Blake (Johnny Depp) travels out West for a job as an accountant. Arriving in the dirty mining town of Machine, he finds the job has been given away and he is lost and bereft. Soon, he has been shot and, accused of murder, is running from the law. Directed by Jim Jarmusch.

Most of Dead Man takes place after Depp’s character is on the run. He quickly meets an Indian named Nobody (Gary Farmer), who tries to remove the bullet with crude surgery, but it is too near the heart. Nobody believes that Blake is the poet William Blake, and frequently quotes his poetry back to him. Meanwhile, a trio of gunmen have been hired to bring Blake back dead or alive, and Wanted posters put others on the trail as well.

The many Blake references let the viewer with even a small knowledge of the subject know that this is an allegorical film, and that Depp’s Blake is on a mystical journey, with Nobody as his guide (plus, well, there’s the names). It would probably take a great deal of knowledge of Blake to understand all the references, and I lack that. But, so do most people.

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The Notorious Bettie Page (2005) 5/10
Bettie Page leaves Nashville for New York in the late 1940s and becomes a highly-successful pin-up model, until the Kefauver hearings on pornography in 1955.

The Notorious Bettie Page is an uninteresting film about a fascinating subject, so shame on director and co-writer Mary Harron for refusing to find a story and stick with it.

Is The Notorious Bettie Page a biopic? Is it the story of the pornography industry in the 1940s and 1950s? Is it the story of the way sexuality was suppressed and marginalized in that era? Is it the story of the Kefauver hearings? What’s the focal point here?

Since the movie refuses to decide, we spend a pleasant 90 minutes with Bettie, as portrayed by Gretchen Mol. The problem is that Bettie’s essential quality is that she’s pleasant. She’s chipper about posing in the nude, cheery about posing in five inch heels and bondage gear, smiling about walking into dangerous situations with strangers. Any insight offered into Bettie is incidental and brief. Bad childhood experiences. Bad early marriage. But these things are blipped past, and we never see Bettie integrate the experiences, they’re just dots on a map before she moves on.

Meanwhile, we’ve got the Kefauver hearings, the legal problems of brother and sister porn-producers Irving and Paula Klaw, and a few relationships that Bettie moves in and out of without much focus.

Thing is, any of these would have been terrific subjects for a film, but instead, it’s a light smattering, a bunch of little snacks instead of a meal.

Dreamgirls (2006) 9/10
When a trio of female soul singers climb the pop charts in the early 1960s, their style, sound, and lives change in unexpected ways.

Dreamgirls is pretty much everything you’ve heard. The music is fantastic, the performances are mind-boggling, and with all the razzle-dazzle, all the makeupcostumesstagingsingingspectacle, you still manage to experience an unexpected amount of nuance and thoughtfulness.

The opening thirty minutes or so will renew your faith in the movies. Everything is perfect. The editing and photography are so deft, so down-to-the-beat, that you’re left breathless. And while you’re kind of falling apart at the glory that is Jennifer Hudson‘s voice, and while you’re asking yourself if that mousy little girl can really be Beyoncé, and while Eddie Murphy‘s James Brown-style soul singer is just blowing your mind, the film is also smartly moving the plot forward, doing some real character development, and also setting time and place with style.

So does it all fall apart? Hell no. It does get to drag, and then it gets a second wind, a new chapter is getting going. And somewhere in that second chapter I realized, “Oh, shit, they’re telling the whole story of the Supremes.” It’s kind of too much. Then there’s a huge, wall-size poster of Deena Jones’s (Beyoncé) face that is designed to leave no doubt that this is Diana Ross circa 1976. I think the roman à clef aspect of the thing is overplayed, too many poses and costumes that are perfect imitations. It’s not a biopic after all. Since so much of the ending of Florence Ballard‘s life is fictionalized, what’s the point of acting like it’s all true?

And now that I’ve bitched, let me say I think that’s a minor point, and I think the movie is a must-see if you have any tolerance for musicals at all.

Here’s what I love about Dreamgirls, and what has stayed with me: In the midst of all the music and dance and soap opera, we are getting a genuine history lesson. Not the gossiping behind the hands about Berry Gordy, but the real story of the racism that permeated the music industry, and how it shaped soul music and “cross-over” music.

There’s an early scene of Eddie Murphy and the Dreamgirls singing Cadillac Car, and then later the song being “covered” (stolen) by the whitest white-bread Perry Como teen idol type, and in what is essentially a musical joke these scenes manage to encapsulate the entire story of what was happening to African-American music at the time. I can’t think of many movies that have done something like that so skillfully.

Here are my random impressions. Keep in mind that I flew in from Detroit last night, just minutes ahead of being stranded by ice storms, and watched the awards about a half-hour behind (bless you, TiVo), then went to bed. I haven’t written any Monday Movie Review this week, and I haven’t written up the event report for the event I just returned from. I also haven’t unpacked or done laundry. I mean, I am just not prepared to face a new week.

Anyway, yay The Departed and yay Marty. Best Picture and Best Director, yay yay yay. Rah cheer for Daniel Craig and Eva Green each giving an award, and how much do I love Al Gore? That much.

Scary dress category: Nicole Kidman, Naomi Watts, Ann Hathaway (ick!). Most improved attire: Helen Mirren and Gwyneth Paltrow, both bouncing back from past disasters to prove that nipples are wonderful at any age.

Big surprises: Melissa Ethridge, looking great, rocking her song, and winning. Alan Arkin winning, and Ellen DeGeneres boring my face off. She had nothing.

I liked the weird dancer people.

Arthur was pissed that the Happy Feet guy didn’t thank Savion Glover.

So: Discuss.

Since this is the last Monday before the Oscars, and since I have travel scheduled and won’t have much time for movie viewing in the coming week, here are what I assume will be my final standings (movies I’ve seen in green). I am very bad at predicting who will win. My picks are merely who I want to win.

Here are the nominees in the five major categories:

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In honor of next Sunday’s Oscar broadcast, here are my mini-reviews for the Best Picture nominees.

Babel (original review) 10/10
Objectively, this is probably the best of the five films, although not my favorite. It is a technical masterpiece, bringing together the disparate threads in a way that is intelligent and respectful of the audience (some of these post-Pulp Fiction interconnected story movies are just obnoxious, like they’re messing with your head for fun). The local and particular feeling created for four different countries is quite impressive. The final shot is one of my favorite film shots of the year.

The Departed (original review) 10/10
The most emotionally intense of the nominees, and my personal favorite to win. I originally rated this 9/10, because it does go on a bit too long and the ending is a bit out of control. But it’s the one that stays with me and the one I care most about. That counts a lot. And it’s fucking brilliant.

Little Miss Sunshine (original review) 10/10
If I rated movies with more objectivity and less emotion, this would get a nine. But I don’t and it doesn’t. Definitely the most flawed of the nominees, it’s also the only comedy, and silly plot holes get more elbow room in silly movies. I persist in loving Paul Dano beyond all words (teehe).

The Queen 10/10
As with The Departed and Little Miss Sunshine, I’m kinda wavering between a 9 and a 10. It’s a somewhat cool and distant movie, but that’s on purpose, because we’re talking royal family here, a somewhat cool and distant group of people. An emotional maelstrom would have been wrong. The delicacy of Mirren‘s performance, and the outrageousness of James Cromwell‘s, are the standouts for me.

Letters from Iwo Jima 10/10
Another technically perfect movie, what strikes me most about Letters from Iwo Jima is that every time you think it’s making a statement, it backs away and seems to make a different one. The Japanese are sympathetic. The Japanese are sadistic. War is dishonorable. War is honorable. Americans commit atrocities. Americans are extraordinarily compassionate. The only real statement, in the end, is that these were humans in this big battle, and the size of it, the history of it, the patriotism of it, mattered less in the end than the human individuals who cared about wives and children and going home.