Beginners (2010): Good Actors, OK film

Beginners is a well-intentioned motion picture with many charms and terrific actors. Billed as a comedy, Beginners aspires to tell an illuminating story about familial and romantic love, sacrifice, acceptance, and the meaning of happiness. It is entertaining enough, but ultimately, Beginners is a less than satisfying film, which fails to meet its lofty ambitions.

The story centers on a morose mid-30s guy named Oliver (EwanMcGregor), who, as he finds himself falling into a new love affair, looks back on his parents’ lives, their marriage, and particularly his experience of and relationship with his father Hal (Christopher Plummer), who died a few weeks earlier. Upon the death of Oliver's mother five years ago, Hal surprised Oliver with the announcement that he was gay. From then until his death, Hal was a changed person - outgoing, adventurous, free-spirited, and happy. A major theme of Beginners is Oliver's struggle to understand and to take inspiration from his father's late life blooming, as he tries to cope with his conflicted feelings about his new relationship (or situationship, as Rachel would call it).

On the plus side for this movie, all of the principal actors are pretty good. Plummer has been singled out for special recognition with an Oscar and other awards for his role as Oliver's joyful, newly liberated gay father. He was fine and a pleasure to watch, but I suspect much of the hoopla had more to do with a celebration of the 82 year old actor’s lifetime achievements than his work on this specific picture. As Hal, Plummer gives pretty much a one note performance, considering that his character discovers early on that he is living with a diagnosis of terminal cancer. We see his joie de vivre once he comes out, and his determination to live his new life to the fullest while he can. But a little more of a perceptible  nod to his impending mortality would have added more poignancy and depth to the role.

Melanie Laurent (Inglorious Basterds, The Concert) is more nuanced as Oliver's love interest, Anna, a cute French actress suffering from a dolorous melancholy and a reluctance to commitment not unlike his own.   Mary PageKeller makes the most of a cameo role in Oliver's reminiscence, as his amusingly quirky mother Georgia, who loyally, stoically protects her husband's secret over 44 years of marriage. Goran Visnjic invests Hal's much younger lover, Andy, with energy, humor and a soulful sincerity. McGregor, who I always like, is believable as an attractive, but depressive guy, although his Oliver seems over-sedated, sleepwalking through most of his scenes. I know that is part of the point for his character, but still, it's a bit much.

Also on the plus side are several fun or revealing scenes, such as an early one at a costume party where Oliver (dressed as a Sigmund Freud-ish psychoanalyst) meets Anna, dressed in a mannish outfit, who lies on his analyst’s couch and then flirtatiously communicates via notepad, claiming she has lost her voice. Another nice, touching, but brief, moment comes late in the film where Oliver acknowledges his appreciation for Andy, whom he has avoided for months since Hal’s death.

And, as with  The Artist (2011) there’s a great dog character, named Arthur (Cosmo - another Jack Russell terrier). Arthur communicates wittily with Oliver via subtitled thoughts. Sometimes Oliver  even seems to get these messages. There is also a lovely, nostalgic, albeit anachronistic soundtrack featuring Hoagie Carmichael, Jelly Roll Morton, and Josephine Baker tunes, along with some original music.

On the other hand, the movie feels random; it never comes together. The writer/director Mike Mills conceived this project as an autobiographical work. Its virtues and flaws flow from this circumstance. His explanation of the parallels with his own experience and his scriptwriting process  is illuminating.  Mills is a graphic designer,  and a music video director /producer as well as a feature film maker. McGregor’s character is a graphic designer working on an album cover for a music group called the Sads. He puts together a book of drawings called The History of Sadness; it helps us to see his character as a depressed person. Mills actually produced a book of drawings while working on this project, of which The History of Sadness comprises the first third.  About Plummer’s character he has said:

“It’s a portrait of my real dad, when he came out. He passed away around four to five years later, and I wrote it right after he died. We had some intense, hot conversations that blossomed in so many ways; they became more engaging and started challenging my love issues, and I wasn’t done with the conversation.”*  However,  while Mills paints a loving, admiring picture of his Dad in the character of Hal, such intense, hot conversations are not a part of the script.

In fact, throughout the course of the movie, conversations are  pretty sparse and not particularly interesting or revealing. There’s a lot of showing, but little telling. This lapse is particularly egregious with respect to the romance between Oliver and Anna.  We see them doing things, like roller skating, kissing, waking up together, staring into each other’s eyes -  but we get very little dialogue. One of the most irksome moments for me, in fact,  was a sequence in which we see Anna and Oliver talking about stuff, but we don’t hear what they are saying; instead, we are treated to soundtrack music.

As to the point of the picture: ”It’s a story of beginners. … Hal, wasn’t someone who was dying, but someone just starting to live. When my dad came out, it was like he was a completely different person. The movie also portrays a couple — they’ve gone through a bunch, but are really just starting their relationship.” And finally, “I got so many things out of this film that I wanted to and that were also slightly out of my reach. Everything is integrated in “Beginners” — my story, my drawings — and that’s why I’m so happy.”

 For me, however, that was why I was disappointed. Mills had a bunch of ideas, it seems, but couldn’t decide if he was making a light comedy, a bittersweet romance, or a memoir.  The movie is a hodgepodge of tones, themes  and sequences which are not well integrated, that don’t quite gel, and that feel incomplete – shallow, even. Mills has been hailed as a brilliant auteur, but in this instance, he might have done better with a little help - a cowriter, a different director, someone who could see the problems. Working solo, pulling his ideas together into a cohesive piece appears to have been slightly out of Mills' reach. 

I'm not saying Beginnings is a terrible motion picture; it has its moments. A lot of critics seemd to like it.  In my view, however, the  whole is less than the sum of its parts.

 Available on DVD, including Netflix, and streaming via  Comcast On Demand, Amazon Instant Video, etc.

*Quoted remarks are from an interview with writer Director Mike Mills in the New York Times 5/24/11: http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/05/24/mike-mills-o-beginners/

Pina (2011): Dance, Dance, Otherwise We Are Lost

Wow!  If ever there was a movie that epitomized the trope about a picture being worth a thousand words, it is Pina (2011).   Pina, subtitled Dance, Dance, Otherwise We Are Lost, is one of the most emotionally, intellectually and visually stimulating pictures I’ve seen in quite a while. My companion and I left the theater so excited that we spent the better part of the next hour talking about it, resurrecting our favorite moments, describing the feelings it evoked. It was such a vivid  and visceral experience, I know that my words will not do it justice.

That said,  Pina is a documentary about the innovative modern dance choreographer Pina Bausch, who died in 2009, and her dance company, Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch. Mostly, it depicts a sampling of her works, restaged specifically for the cameras. Tanztheater can be translated as “theatrical dance,” and that’s a pretty good description of what we get to see. Some of the dancing is on a theater stage; some is out of doors. There’s a bit on a streetcar, one  in a tunnel,  several in empty buildings.  A famous piece is Café Müller, set in a large room with café tables and chairs, that must be brushed aside as the dancers, seemingly blind or in a trance,  move about. Onstage, the works are no less theatrical. For Rites of Spring, the floor is covered with peat moss; another setting features a huge boulder, rain, and pools of water.

The dancers are actors; the actors are dancers. The women are lean and feminine, often in flowing gowns or gossamer slips. The men are buff, chiseled, strong, yet sensitive. All seem totally committed to their performance. All are wonderful to watch.

Now, I am not a dance devotee, and never even heard of Pina Bausch before this. I haven’t been to the ballet in years, and my exposure to modern dance is even more limited.  I certainly can't analyze the technical aspects of the performances in this film. No matter. I can tell you that the dance in Pina is magnificent: dramatic, funny, raw, romantic, whimsical, deep, and above all else evocative … of love, longing, lust, isolation, belonging, pain, fear, vertigo, dreams, joy, death and life.  Watching these dances,  these dancers, I felt a connection to some of my deepest, most primitive personal and social emotions. How does this happen, when no words are spoken?  This is the art. As Pina would say, it’s about Truth.

The director, Wim Wenders, best known for 1987’s Wings of Desire, has, in recent years been associated with documentary films, including 1999’s Buena Vista Social Club. Here, he mixes things up nicely – something deeply moving, followed by something light; indoors, then outdoors; a longer piece, followed by a short bit; a piece for two dancers, then the entire company. We only see segments from some of Pina’s longer productions such as Rite of Spring and Café Müller, but these seem to be self contained “movements” that supply their own context.

Pina was filmed in 3-D, and the added dimensionality subtly enhances the immediacy of our experience, without calling attention to itself. At just 103 minutes, the picture is never boring; there are so many facets of human experience to explore. I left desiring more.

Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch continues to tour around the world. Sadly ( for me) they were just in the Bay Area in December. They’ll be in London for an extended stay in June and July, 2012 (are you listening, R?).  Hopefully, a return visit to the states next Fall.

In the meantime, by all means, see this movie.

In limited release and worth seeing on the big screen, if you can find it in your area.

The Concert [le Concert] (2009): Silly, Heartwarming Comedy

The Concert is a mish-mosh of a comedy, by turns amusing, schmaltzy, insightful, implausible, goofy and emotional. As the title implies, the picture culminates in a concert, and (trust me, this is not a spoiler) Tchaikovsky saves the day – gloriously, upliftingly, movingly.  Which might be why someone recommended The Concert to me, and ultimately, why you might want to put this one on your list. It is fluff, but it’s entertaining, with a nice payoff..

The movie is a French/Romanian co-production and most of the actors are Russian or French. The story opens in Moscow, at the offices of the (fictional) Bolshoi Symphony, where poor, soulful Andrey (Aleksey Guskov) works as a janitor. But it was not always thus. Thirty years ago, Andrey was the Maestro. But in the midst of a grand performance of Tchaikovski’s Violin Concerto,  he was abruptly fired, for employing Jewish musicians in violation of a  Brezhnev edict. In disgrace, his career tragically ended, he fell prey to alcoholism, depression  and thoughts of what might have been. Now, as he sweeps, he sees a fax coming in from Theater du Châtelet in Paris, inviting the Bolshoi to play there in two weeks (the L.A. Philharmonic having cancelled a show).  Andrey sees a chance at redemption: he’ll gather up the old crew and perform the Tchaikovsky in Paris, impersonating the Bolshoi!

Not a bad set up for a comedy. Gather up a bunch of former musicians (oddballs all), scam the stuffed shirt French muckety-mucks, overcome numerous logistical obstacles (money, visas, tuxedos, haircuts, lack of practice), and play beautiful music. There are shades of the Music Man here, or perhaps The Bad News Bears. This being Russia, the ragtag band includes gypsies, Jews, Slavs, and other stereotypes.  There are also former communists to ridicule and abuse; and some silly fractured French spoken by the vistors, which French viewers presumably find hilarious. The plot requires much suspension of disbelief. Somehow, though, The Concert carries us along despite the implausibility of the story, and some less than funny bits.

Helping the enterprise are some strong performances: Guskov is soulful and revealing as Andrey; Dimitri Nazarov, as Andrey’s best friend Sasha, is excitable yet wise and supportive; and Melanie Laurent, as the young French violin virtuoso Anne-Marie Jacquet, who is engaged as the soloist for the violin concerto, finds the perfect balance between an intrigued interest in Andrey and his project and growing disbelief at the apparent haplessness of the undertaking. By the end of the film, Laurent, who played the theater owner with a secret in Inglorious Basterds a few years ago,  finds the answers to some secrets here as well. She also pulls off a phenomenal feat in convincing us that she is, in fact, a virtuoso violinist.  

Despite the slapstick and some awkward comedic moments, and though we know it’s coming, The Concert comes through in the end with a theatrical and moving performance of the Tchaikovsky. You may want to have a tissue at hand.

Available on DVD, and from Netflix. DVD offers the original, in Russian and French with English subtitles, or a version dubbed in English, if you prefer not to read and can handle bad lip-synch and odd voices.