Solid Gold

It's ironic that James Brown passed away on Christmas Day, the day that Dreamgirls hit movie screens all across the nation. Perhaps it's no coincidence that, in the midst of very capable all the way up to stellar performances, one of the two brightest stars in the movie version of the hit Broadway play belongs to James "Jimmy" Thunder Early, the character who most clearly emulates the late Godfather of Soul...and, by extension, to Eddie Murphy, who so brilliantly captured his--yes--soul. And then there's Jennifer Hudson, the American Idol finalist--an everyday girl who, by virtue of her extraordinary voice (and, as it turns out, acting abilities)--equally succeeds in bringing the character of Effie White alive on the screen. Brings to life? Hudson snaps, crackles, and pops on the screen! Likewise for the rest of The Dreams, the group loosely based on The Supremes, which includes the lovely Beyonce Knowles as Deena Jones, the ingenue who captures the heart of the entrepreneurial Curtis Taylor, Jr.(in a subdued, yet appropriate, performance by Jamie Foxx), and whom he turns into a star; and Anika Noni Rose, as Lorrell Robinson, who loves Jimmy from his pop chart topping days all the way through his sad decline. There's music--singing, and dancing--throughout the movie, the Broadway show turned into a movie that it is--including Hudson's show-stopping "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" (though, actually, I was more moved by her rendition of "One Night Only"). Music: of the clap to; sway to; snap and drum your fingers to; want to get up and dance to; and, ultimately, want to sing along with, type of music. There's love; betrayal; greed; corruption; redemption. There's a message. It was somewhere in the midst of all of this that I found myself--that I had to return to--three times in as many days--to absorb it to the full. James Brown would be proud, indeed. Ninina needs four popcorn boxes.

Yes!!! Jennifer Hudson--Best Supporting Actress; Eddie Murphy--Best Supporting Actor; Best Movie--Musical: Golden Globes.

And, oh my goodness, what finally clicked in my brain: Bill Condon, director & screenwriter, along with the late Tom Eyen (book; Tony Award winner for the original Broadway production).

Bill Condon Forum (Filmbug)

My God, I knew him! (Tue Jan 16, 2007 12:14am ET)
by Georgina Marrero
I felt a tingle back in 02 when he won Best Adapted Screenplay for Gods and Monsters; and then, again, when Chicago won all those awards. Tonight, however, I took one look at him as he received accolade after accolade for Dreamgirls, and realized, Omigod, I knew him: this is the same Bill Condon who kept taking top honors in our Vergil and Latin Lyric Poetry classes in Steele Commager's classroom in Hamilton Hall! A slight case of sophomoric envy has turned into great pride at being able to acknowledge a great member of the cinematic profession as...well, someone I knew, way back when. Congratulations, Bill! May you have many more successes--and continue to so royally entertain us--for many years to come!

Redemption Comes in Many Sizes and Shapes

Redemption: a much-overused word, including in the cinematic world. The following two movies, both of which are based on real-life events, prove that redemption comes) in many sizes and shapes:




In The Pursuit of Happyness, a very somber--and serious--Will Smith poignantly plays the part of Chris Gardner, a once upon a time portable bone density scanner salesman who in 1981 found himself down and out on his luck--sans job, sans wife, sans a place to live--but who, with his little son, Chris, at his side (beautifully played by Will Smith's real-life son, Jaden), persevered, and survived a non-paying six-month internship program at San Francisco's Dean Witter office to become the sole intern whom they hired at the end of the training. To get there, though: the film has a no-holds-barred (considering its PG-13 rating) approach, depicting evictions; the life of the homeless on San Francisco's streets; nights spent in shelters; even attendance at a Revival service. It is Gardner's determination to succeed--to provide the best possible life for his child--that comes through, loud and clear...and Will Smith captures it, beautifully. His real-life relationship with his own son also shines forth--is little Jaden a star in the making? Gabriele Muccino directed; Steven Conrad (also responsible for The Weather Man) wrote the script. Ninina walked away, a little teary-eyed, but highly gratified. She needs 3.75 popcorn boxes.




"We're going to play until the whistle blows."--in We Are Marshall, Jack Lengyel (Matthew McConaughey, who doesn't have to stretch his Texas drawl that far) first utters that phrase during a game of touch football with his children on the lawn of his house in Ohio; he repeats it when he finds himself as the new coach of the Marshall University football team in Huntington, West Virginia, in the tragic aftermath of the November 14, 1970 airplane crash that claimed 75 lives, including members of the school's team, staff, and supporters. Indeed, by the last time he says it, as he holds his youngest son in his arms right before Marshall's game with Xavier University, toward the end of a lackluster first "comeback" season, you know for a fact that he's "done some good," as he promised Marshall's president, Don Dedmon(David Strathairn), he would. In a game where winning is everything--and there is plenty of pre, during, and post football game action, with the requisite huddles, rump patting, and the like--the town of Marshall had to, in effect, be "born again," from the anguished skeleton team and staff left after the disaster, through the fiancee who was finally able to pull her life together--and, indeed, all the way to the grieving mill foreman/university board member (Ian McShane) whose son she was supposed to have married. The cast, as a whole, gave gritty, heartfelt performances: at the end, the real Jack Lengyel and his assistant coach, Red Dawson, join McConaughey and Matthew Fox on the screen. It was the shot of the memorial to the 75--and the real footage that accompanied the closing credits--that grabbed me the most. Football can be much, much more than a game...The music video producer McG directed. Ninina needs 3.5 popcorn boxes.



And then there's something I'm going to call "the anti-redemption": in The Good Shepherd, Robert De Niro's ten-year-old pet project about the history of the birth of the CIA, Matt Damon stoically--yet competently--plays the part of Edward Wilson, an upper-crust Yalie who is wooed, and ultimately recruited, by the powers-that-be involved in U.S. counter-intelligence (including by the increasingly diabetes-stricken General Bill Sullivan, quietly--yet convincingly--portrayed by De Niro himself). Alec Baldwin plays Sam Murach, the FBI liaison who keeps cropping up in Wilson's life. William Hurt, who, according to De Niro himself, is "hard to get a hold of," portrays Philip Allen, the agent who shows the young and eager Wilson "the ropes," guides him through the O.S.S. years, and eventually becomes the newly-formed agency's head. Timothy Hutton has a brief but pivotal appearance as Wilson's father, a navy commandant who commits suicide when he doesn't think he's lived up to his country's and his family's expectations. Later on, when Wilson has his own son with the originally exuberant but much put upon Clover (wistfully portrayed by Angelina Jolie), he keeps him shrouded in the secrets that ultimately...well, "anti-redemption," remember? With the exception of two gentle encounters with two women--both of them hearing-impaired--whom he feels he can help save, at least for a while, Edward Wilson, by the time he has reached the apogee of his career, is a man who has sacrificed everything for his country. A very thoughtful, provocative effort, the story (with Forrest Gump's Eric Roth as the screenwriter) is based on the life and career of James Jesus Angleton, who was the first head of counter-intelligence at the CIA. Ninina needs 3.25 popcorn boxes.

Turquoises, Diamonds...and a Pearl of a Movie

Diamonds may be "a girl's best friend," but Ninina's favorite gemstone is the pearl. Turquoise ranks pretty highly in the semi-precious department, too...

Let's begin with turquoise: the color of Cameron Diaz' eyes. Ever-sparkly, they finally shed a tear--or two--in Nancy Meyers' (Something's Gotta Give) latest, The Holiday, which is--for all intents and purposes--a "hipper" take on that wonderful Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton vehicle. As in SGG, the players are chic; literate (and literary); and rich (or, at least, well-to-do): this time around, callously cheated-on L.A. movie trailer producer Amanda (Diaz) participates in a "home exchange" during the holidays with a precious cottage in the countryside (shot in Surrey) dwelling English journalist, Iris (winningly played by Kate Winslet), who's just had her unrequited dreams (for Rufus Sewell, most recently seen as the cruel Crown Prince in The Illusionist) smashed forever when he becomes engaged to someone else on the newspaper staff. Amanda's chief condition: no men. Well...Jude Law, who plays Winslet's brother, shows up at the cottage within hours of her arrival. Can she resist him? In the meantime, Iris is living it up at Amanda's luxuriously appointed house; she, too, meets a man: a nonagerian former screenwriter--played by the great Eli Wallach with both compassion and bite--who can't find his way around the neighborhood (but who nonetheless has an Oscar, a Golden Globe, and at least several other awards strewn about his hopelessly cluttered study). Jack Black, who plays a movie music composer in, for him, a rather subdued--yet endearing--role, also shows up. It just so happens he knows Amanda. We already know how Winslet and Law fit together. As in Something's Gotta Give, Meyers has wittily--and poignantly-- brought lives together...and, once again, turned a "best friend" into a "leading lady": Winslet instead of Keaton, this time. And--as I stated at the beginning--the "crying jag" most solidly belongs to Diaz, as the Ice Lady manages to melt the snow on the road in that gorgeous English countryside and rushes back to return to Law. All of these complicated entanglements are also reminiscent of "Love, Actually," as Connie Ogle noted in her Herald review. However, I hope I can claim the similarities to SGG for my own...Cameron sparkled with a brittle comedic wit; Kate was in her element; Jack reined it in with aplomb; Eli (see above); and--and--as for Rufus and Jude (Ed Burns played Diaz' ex, but it's a tiny role, mirroring his character's "transparency" in Amanda's life)? Rufus is a bad boy: period. The abusive you-know-what a girl hates herself for loving. Jude, on the other hand, was tender; touching; vulnerable--I have to keep something as a surprise, don't I? I thoroughly enjoyed this "intelligent woman's chick flick," and, yes, shed several tears at the appropriate moments. I also fidgeted in spots when it dragged a bit. When you're aware that you've been there, seen that...regardless, Ninina needs 3.25 popcorn boxes (and a Kleenex).

A diamond in the rough may have to be turned this way and that in order to imagine it in all of its faceted glory, but one that weighs in at 100 or so carats: well, that's what Blood Diamond is all about. A man (Djimon Hounsou, of Amistad and In America fame)and his family are split in two during the 1999 rebel uprisings in Sierra Leone; he and his son are taken to the guerrilla camp, where he is forced to dig for diamonds, and his son is "indoctrinated" into their army. He finds the stone, and buries it. Everyone turns out to be interested in this "blood" (or, more properly termed, 'conflict') diamond: the guerrilla chief; a white mercenary (played by a more and more grown-up Leonardo DiCaprio); his former commanding officer; and an international diamond conglomerate. Throw in the requisite love interest in the person of a reporter trying to get the scoop on the illicit diamond trade--as played by the lovely Jennifer Connelly--throw in a few romantic nibbles (but not too many)--and you get a feel for where this all leads. In real life, the Kimberley Process Certification System was passed in 2000: a zero-tolerance policy against trafficking in these "blood diamonds." DiCaprio puts on a fairly effective "Rhodesian" accent; Connelly isn't really given much to do; it's Hounsou's efforts to preserve and protect that diamond--and, by extension, his family--that ultimately sustain our interest. Shot on location in South Africa and Mozambique (and a bit in Sierra Leone, if I'm not mistaken), the movie is visually stunning, and emotionally riveting...as far as it can go. Directed by Edward Zwick (Glory; The Last Samurai). Ninina needs 2 popcorn boxes.

A pearl. A pearl. Only her record player and her dolly from The Moon can make her ooh and aah as much as a major cinematic effort: think what you will of Mel Gibson's rants and raves, there is no denying that he is a superb filmmaker. In Apocalypto, he has once again proven himself to be a master champion of the underdog: in this case, the indigenous natives of the Mayan Peninsula whose apex in civilization--rife with knowledge; greed; unspeakable cruelty; and an overall decadence--was rapidly followed by its demise at the hands of the conquistadors. With very little dialogue--in a native tongue, no less--and with savage beauty, Gibson all but screams out at us with his metaphor. In the midst of the pestilence, there is great joy to be found in the story of the young warrior who survives, who grows as a result of a myriad of trials and tribulations, and who is reunited with his family just in time to realize that he's not out of the woods...yet. This is a very difficult film to analyze, bit by bit, but if it's not honored with at least several nominations, come Globe and Oscar time, in at least the art direction, set design, cinematography, and, indeed, directing categories--then I think it'll be time for Gibson to hand-pick his judges. A savage, yet subtle, effort, this is not a movie that should be ignored. It was filmed in Catemaco, in the state of Veracruz, in Mexico. Ninina needs 4 popcorn boxes, and she needs to squint quite a bit, too, given some of the more gruesome depictions.

Fur: Extremes Don't Always Meet

Steven Shainberg's "Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus," both begins and ends with disclaimers that his story is a vision of how aspects of Diane Arbus' life may have led to her creative development. All fine and good: the story begins and ends at a nudist colony (with a fleeting glimpse of a deshabille Nicole Kidman, who mirrors Arbus' waiflike naivete chiefly via a constant flow of tear-brimmed eyes). It is Shainberg's clever conceit--the fictionalized "Wolf Man," Lionel, as portrayed by Robert Downey, Jr. in yet another luminous performance--who shapes her progress. It makes you wonder: without his "fur," what, indeed, led Diane Arbus to discover the world of "freaks,"...and, indeed, the "freak" within herself? Loosely based on Patricia Bosworth's biography of Arbus--she co-produced the movie. Extremes are said to meet: alas, they don't stretch far enough in this imaginative biopic--or "fictionalized biography," as it were--or, conversely, they're just a bit too heavy-handed, as is, as I stated earlier, the acting on Kidman's part. Downey gets away with it, just because...the excellent stage and screen actress, Jane Alexander, convincingly plays Arbus' overbearing mother, which could begin to explain the sensitive photographer's neuroses. There's a great deal of flitting and floating about, interspersed with stark realism: perhaps that was Arbus' world? It's Shainberg's interpretation of her world, that's for sure--I only wish I'd left the theater more fulfilled, feeling that I'd really, truly peeked through a window into her freakish--yet fascinating--world. Ninina needs 1.5 popcorn boxes.