Unearthed Treasures?

In preparation to write at least a mini about Letters From Iwo Jima, I had to unearth what I wrote about its mirror image, Flags of Our Fathers, last fall. In the process, I discovered two other treasures (!?) I contributed to Peggy's Seaside Scoop:

Marie Antoinette: Sofia Coppola's parable to try to teach 21st Century Gilded Ones a lesson. Lots of cake; lots of shoes; lots of dogs (sorry, P); exquisite costumes. Sofia has her own pacing: a tad reminiscent of what she did with Lost In Translation. Kirsten Dunst was perfectly cast as the teenaged youngest daughter of Maria Teresa of Austria, who was shipped off to France to marry the Dauphin (and, thus, ensure amicable relations between the two countries). The movie as a whole was mesmerizing; I found Antoinette's "indoctrination" into the French Court particularly fascinating. The movie theater was more or less packed with teenagers, at least some of whom seemed totally oblivious to the historical import...but in a refreshingly naive way. "Why didn't they leave?" I heard one young soul plaintively remark, when the rest of the royal family prepared to leave France in the aftermath of the storming of the Bastille. Why, indeed. To have captured Marie Antoinette's persona in its entirety would have been a formidable feat under any circumstances--Sofia Coppola was brave, bold, and bright enough to effectively narrow her focus.

The Prestige: If you liked The Illusionist, you'll love The Prestige. Deliciously--and devilishly--hard to follow, especially at the end (which is why a Prestige--the third part of a magician's act--is, precisely, that). Both Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale played their bad guy-good guy-oops, which is which? roles to the hilt. Not surprisingly, one of them--namely, Christian Bale--was no stranger to the movie's director: Christopher Nolan, who directed him in Batman Begins. (Nolan also directed the circuitously marvelous Memento.) The great Michael Caine, Scarlett Johansson, and David Bowie--yes, that David Bowie--round out the impressive cast. It's Jackman's and Bale's duel, though, to the end, a feat that they accomplish...brilliantly. One of the year's best.

(And here's all I'd written re: The Illusionist: final "dream" sequence, indeed, especially rewarding: better said w/pictures than w/words. I actually had to see it a second time to fully "get it"--must have been more wide-awake when I saw The Prestige...)

Flags of Our Fathers: Clint Eastwood teamed up with Steven Spielberg to tell the true story of what happened to the soldiers who happened to raise the flag at Iwo Jima at the historical moment that a fellow Marine photographer took their picture. This is a graphic (extremely)--yet subtle--movie that raises questions at the same time that it answers them. Eastwood treats the topic with respect; the ensemble cast--as a whole--acts as they should, including Ryan Philippe as the Navy "Doc" through whose eyes the story is more or less told. I cannot deny that the movie made me feel very sad, at levels that reverberate even in modern times--I wonder if that was Eastwood's (and Spielberg's) ultimate intent?

Letters from Iwo Jima: Clint Eastwood has exquisitely and sensitively captured the essence of "the other"--that is, the Japanese perspective of the circumstances leading up to, including, and the aftermath of the horrific battle of Iwo Jima. Only the cosmopolitan commandant (Ken Watanabe), who'd been presented with a Colt 45 during a farewell dinner held in his honor in the States during the 1930's; as well as a young American soldier captured by his equally young Japanese counterparts, speak in English--the rest of the movie is subtitled. The letters that give the movie its name include not only those unearthed at the end of the movie, when a Japanese war veteran--the "reluctant baker" who, nonetheless, had known it was his duty to defend his homeland and his Emperor--recovers them from their hiding place; but also, the young American soldier's letter from his mother, which Watanabe translates for his soon-to-be-vanquished men. These letters--subtle; poignant in their mundaneness--their...humanity--speak volumes about who--and what--soldiers of all nationalities, in all wars, are: loved ones for those who love them. Bravo, bravo to Clint Eastwood: Ninina needs four popcorn boxes!

What saddened me at the movie theater, during both showings, was the scarcity of people in the audience. Fathers with their sons during Flags; Vietnam-era vets, at least one of whom I noticed had shed a tear or two when we emerged. Elderly couples; the men, perhaps, having been World War II and/or Korean War vets? And one elderly chap who entered and exited with his walker, both times: there must be something about the 4 p.m. show...