Movie Reviews#6…
Calvary. Irish pathos…great acting. Highly recommended. We have at least two interpretations of this one, a film where John Le Carre’s noir intensity meets Catholic Irish angst. Excellent and highly recommended, but not for the squeamish. It will become a classic.
Land Ho! Two old guys travel around Iceland. You have to fill in the blanks here—a lot isn’t shown or seen—but it’s a pleasant little trek albeit much ado about nothing. The irascible, old guys are lovable old curmudgeons, but it was all a bit tedious. I can only recommend it if you want to see some beautiful scenery. Iceland is the main protagonist here. With that volcano acting up there now, I’d stay away from Iceland, though—safer to see it in a travelogue like this film.
One Hundred-Foot Journey. Based on Richard Morais’ novel of the same name, this movie is a little delight. The title coincides with the fact that Spielberg and Winfrey are American producers: France is metric (the home country of metric, in fact), but these two still think British (OK, that’s Morais’ fault, not theirs). Beyond that, I had a few problems. The plot is too predictable. You’ll also be frustrated if you’re a purist about your ethnic cuisine. (I’m not—that omelet even sounded yummy, and I walked out hungry.)
This is yet another chef story in a summer’s poison-ivy rash of chef stories. Madame Mallory (Helen Mirren) and Papa Kadam (Om Puri) steal the show, although chefs Hassan (Manish Dayal) and Marguerite (Charlotte Le Bon) make a cute couple. Helen Mirren is, of course, the female version of Morgan Freeman and just as ubiquitous (although she hasn’t played God yet)—I never tire of her, though (I think they were only together in Red). A bit of violence at the beginning, but probably enjoyable for the whole family, especially if you want a respite from that Galaxy crew.
The Lone Ranger. Last Sunday I found this fairly recent movie on Encore to watch instead of the raunchy, raucous MTV Awards—all those award shows bore me to tears, even with wardrobe malfunctions. Yeah, I know, I remember that other critics panned this film. The other critics are wrong. Let me explain why.
First though, let me say that there are two halves to this film. The first half follows closely the traditional history of how a ranger becomes the masked man, although the single man becomes a reluctant ranger and his rough-hewn brother. (I didn’t need that plot embellishment, by the way. Portraying the hero as a Boston dandy possibly tickled the funny bones of script writers, but the fop was a flop.) The second part departs considerably from that historical fiction as the outlaw Cavendish becomes two evil brothers (what’s this brother thing?—did the script writers have some fetish about male siblings?).
It’s the second half that makes the movie. Because this was on TV, you might have switched channels before you got there. Big mistake! The second half is about Tonto. In fact, the whole movie is, in retrospect. Tonto is the Spanish word for dumb or stupid, of course, so if you ever wondered why LR’s famous pal was called that, here’s your answer. And it makes sense—his own people named him that because he did weird things after suffering childhood trauma. The plot gets better here, and it all makes sense in the end, although there are still some campy action scenes left for lovers of special effects.
Now I get serious and slam the critics. An encounter between a young boy and an aging, wizened Tonto starts this movie. Our Native American hero, an intruder into a diorama at some theme park, is startled by the kid’s mask and cowboy hat. Tonto tells the boy the story of the Lone Ranger. Stupid, you say. Not! Remember, Tonto is the main character here, played by Johnny Depp. The story he tells is an homage—an ode, if you will—to the dying of the Old West and his people turning into ghosts. There’s pathos in this story. The joining of the two train rails, one from the West, the other from the East, is symbolic of the destruction of the American frontier. More evidence for this is found in the closing credits—if you missed them, watch them again. That wrinkled old Tonto dresses like an undertaker and walks off into the desert. The musical score by Hans Zimmer at this point sets the sad mood (the score also has its necessary bow to Rossini earlier).
We can also interpret all this as our own goodbye to childhood. Many of us grew up with the early comic books, radio shows, and/or TV shows starring Clayton Moore (no relation). This movie serves as a eulogy for those simpler times when good fought evil, and good won. Tonto, with his connection to the spirit world of his ancestors, knew these simpler times were gone. He probably didn’t want anything to do with the future; he felt compelled to pay his respects to the past. As I brushed away a tear from the music and that last scene in the credits, I thought of my old English prof N. Scott Momaday. Tonto would be happy to see that Native Americans are still around and are able to excel. I’m not sure about good winning anymore, though.
An entry to MJM’s diary from October, 2014: Hermana Flor got me writing again. It’s a busy peace here at the convent.
In libris libertas…
