Burton Corliss Reviews

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  • Okay, you support feminism, what does that really mean?
    Okay, you support feminism, what does that really mean?

    Since writing up the review on Citizen Twain, it’s been weighing on me as to what to review next.  Today, my friend Anna suggested that I should review one of Laura Mulvey’s films.  That seemed odd and out of the blue, and then she sent me the following link that raises the question: “What makes a feminist movie?”

    The article’s short but sweet point is that there are three possibilities:

    1. Content and characters
    2. Creative Control
    3. Formal Construction

    This opens up a very interesting debate.

    Under the first option, a man or a woman could make a feminist film so long as the content and characters drive a feminist message.

    Content and characters such as what is contained in Thelma and Louise could be considered feminist. Although it is contingent to its own contemporary culture.  (Notice how Brad Pitt - the young, virile strange male - is a fetish object to be mastered.)
    Content and characters such as what is contained in Thelma and Louise could be considered feminist. Although it is contingent to its own contemporary culture. (Notice how Brad Pitt – the young, virile strange male – is a fetish object to be mastered.)

    The second option means the film must be made by a woman regardless of the message behind it.

    Bigelow becomes an obvious lightning rod for feminist debates.  Her films rarely tackle what are traditionally considered "feminist" or "women's issues", so is her work feminist just because she has a vagina?
    Bigelow becomes an obvious lightning rod for feminist debates. Her films rarely tackle what are traditionally considered “feminist” or “women’s issues”, so is her work feminist just because she has a vagina?

    The third option means a man or a woman could make a feminist film regardless of the message so long as it doesn’t follow a conventional linear narrative with conventional filmmaking techniques.

    Gaspar Noe has built a reputation for making films that break film's conventional linear narrative technique. Does this make his work feminist?
    Gaspar Noe has built a reputation for making films that break film’s linear narrative convention. Does this make his work feminist?

    The consensus among the respondents in the comments section of the page seems to be that a feminist film is a combination of the first two and that the third only limits your audience (the implication being that the message is lost and the filmmakers are only marginalizing themselves).

    I believe all three possibilities could have valid points, but all three also have considerable drawbacks.

    For example, although people may believe that formal convention limits a film’s reach, the same could be said of the first option.  An overtly feminist film that hammers the audience over its head with its message is about as intriguing and engaging as a war propaganda film.  The audience that would be most interested would be those who already believe in the message of the film from the get-go.  It takes a certain art to accomplish convincing an audience with an emotional appeal via film – especially on political issues.  When done well, it can be intriguing and divisive.  Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing and Bamboozled are provocative but do they affect audiences the same way as Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby?  Is Eastwood’s film too sentimental to be taken seriously?  Are Lee’s films too ambivalent, reflective, and at times agitating rather than more obviously persuasive and heart-string-tugging?

    There appears to be the potential for a very real practical effect of a film that can humanize the Other’s struggle (in this case, a woman’s struggle) to audiences who otherwise might not immediately sympathize with, or have otherwise felt alienated and isolated from, that struggle.

    When it comes to whether or not creative control should factor in, that’s another contentious point.  Most “feminist” or “women’s” festivals require that submissions be made by women.  The argument here could be that promoting women filmmakers has a real practical effect – you’re literally giving exposure to women filmmakers.  This, again, however, has pitfalls.  First of all, you could be marginalizing yourself to an audience that only wants to see films made by women or who believe in the argument that only women filmmakers can deliver a feminist message while also alienating yourself from the audiences that would otherwise see your films, but are skeptical of inverting the patriarchal system by only accepting films by women.  Second of all, is it necessarily a benefit to be promoting equality if the voices being promoted are only assisting the “oppression” of women?  This then slips and slides itself into why should women have to make films about women?  I say “slips and slides” since the question at stake is, “What makes a feminist movie?”  Not, “should women be expected to make feminist films?”

    Written and directed by a woman, does Sorority House Massacre count as a "feminist" film just because Carole Frank has a vagina?  Is it because she has a vagina and she has an intent?  Or is it because she has a vagina, has an intent, and audiences receive her film with her intention intact?  (And do the last two question even apply?)
    Written and directed by a woman, does Sorority House Massacre count as a “feminist” film just because Carol Frank has a vagina? Is it because she has a vagina and she has a feminist intent? Or is it because she has a vagina, has an intent, and audiences receive her film with her intention intact? (And do the last two questions even apply?)

    I’m going to go to the Nazi example, of course.  If a non-supporter of the Third Reich makes a Nazi propaganda film that does not change the message of the propaganda film.  It is still a Nazi propaganda film promoting the values and beliefs of the Nazi regime regardless of who yelled “action” and “cut.”

    Using this logic then, a woman directing a film does not automatically equate to the film being a “feminist film” since the film’s message could either support feminist thought, contradict feminist thought, have absolutely nothing to do with feminist thought, or interrogate feminist thought (which does not necessarily support or contradict feminism).

    (With that in consideration, one has to wonder if women’s film festivals have remained marginalized precisely for those reasons.)

    So far, option one – possibly.  Option two – negative.

    Finally, option three.  Option three as it’s described is a little disingenuous and one of the most astute comments made by the blogger themself doesn’t illuminate Mulvey quite fairly:

    I think your “importance” point is key – they all play a part, and I think it’s ultimately filtered through the viewer’s consciousness.

    I also think it’s important to consider the “average film-goer,” in regards to the last point. Mulvey’s film is a rather (how should I say this?) terrible viewing experience. The average film-goer wouldn’t see it, period. It goes hand-in-hand with her husband, film theorist Peter Wollen’s theory of “unpleasure.” There is a reason why conventional film form has developed the way it has: because it is a pleasurable, easy-to-understand viewing experience.

    To have feminism in elements of content, character and creative control is as much as a Hollywood film will likely have. But that is more than enough for these films, because it means that this message will reach the widest audience possible.

    I agree with the first statement – obviously, the film is filtered through the viewer’s consciousness.  So now we find ourselves wading in the murky waters of sender-channel-receiver.  The sender may have a message they want to deliver, but they have to do it through a channel that filters the message which may result in intended meanings by the sender getting filtered out.  When the receiver finally receives the message, they are receiving with a set of experiences, and it through a channel whose effects, that the sender will likely have never considered or incorporated in the crafting of their message.  This is familiar to anyone who has read criticism on On the Waterfront in which one set of critics read it as a mea culpa for Kazan’s testifying to HUAC while others read it as a defense of his actions.  A more recent example would be a comparison of Roots to Django.  I doubt anyone would assert that Roots is a pro-slavery or racist portrayal of African-Americans.  Django, on the other hand, has fervent supporters and just as fervent detractors.  (Interestingly enough, I have yet to see anyone who has made the argument that Django is not progressive because it’s made by a white man.  Instead, the argument is that it’s Quentin Tarantino’s revisionist style that holds the film back from make any relevant strides.)

    The encoding-decoding model illustrates a number of factors that can disrupt, alter, or affect the sending of messages from filmmaker to film-goer.
    The encoding-decoding model illustrates a number of factors that can disrupt, alter, or affect the sending of messages from filmmaker to film-goer.

    The blogger , filmschooled, states that “[Mulvey’s work] goes hand-in-hand with her husband, film theorist Peter Wollen’s theory of ‘unpleasure.’”  I’m not clear on what is meant by “hand-in-hand”, but when it comes to “unpleasure” Mulvey’s stance is quite clear:

    The satisfaction and reinforcement of the ego must be attacked.  Not in favour of a reconstructed new pleasure, which cannot exist in the abstract, nor of intellectualized unpleasure, but to make way for a total negation of the ease and plenitude of the narrative fiction film.  The alternative is the thrill that comes from leaving the past behind without simply rejecting it, transcending outworn or oppressive forms, and daring to break with normal pleasurable expectations in order to conceive of a new language of desire.

    When it comes to unpleasure, she says she’s not for it.  When it comes to a “new pleasure” there’s a detection of ambivalence.  On the one hand, she does not want “a reconstructed new pleasure.”  On the other hand, she wants to transcend “oppressive forms” and to “break with normal pleasure expectations in order to conceive of a new language of desire.”

    That seems really friggin opaque.

    Unfortunately, Mulvey's films are even more alienating than her Lacanian-influenced film theory.
    Unfortunately, Mulvey’s films are even more alienating than her Lacanian-influenced film theory.

    Ultimately, Mulvey’s beef is this.  She believes conventional linear narratives are a form of mastery. (By linear, she means chronological: intro-rising action-climax-resolution.)  Mastery produces pleasure because it involves the conquering of something that would otherwise cause us anxiety.  Specifically, in Mulvey’s argument, she asserts that since psychoanalysis has put forth the claim that women cause castration anxiety in men, the way for men to overcome the anxiety is to master the female form in one of two ways:

    1. Scopophilia.  The root is “scopo” — to look (scope, periscope, telescope, etc.).  The suffix is “philia” – to love (cinephilia, pedophilia, etc.)   So a scophophile would be someone who takes pleasure in looking.  The idea is that in order to overcome or short-circuit castration anxiety, the viewer/filmmaker turns woman into an object to be controlled by their gaze.  The woman becomes a fetish object (a passive object to his active control).  How do you do this?  Let your imagination run buckwild, but one way is to simply show a woman fully nude on screen just long enough to create a titillating arousal.
    2. The second way, or “avenue” as Mulvey calls it, is to make the woman the subject of inquiry and then to place her in a position of passivity in contrast to the male’s active role.  Mulvey explains it as:

    …preoccupation with the re-enactment of the original trauma (investigating the woman, demystifying her mystery), counterbalanced by the devaluation, punishment, or saving of the guilty object (an avenue typified by the concerns of film noir)

    In essence, two forms of mastery.  This becomes really tricky because Mulvey also argues that putting a woman in the position of a mastery role is to be placing her in drag.  By having a woman take the active role and place males (or anything else) into the passive role is just reinforcing the rules/system by which “patriarchy” rules:  the active/passive binary system.

    So Mulvey’s “answer” is to break up mastery.  Whether or not she accomplishes that is up to the viewer.  (And I happen to agree with the blogger filmschooled in that Mulvey’s work is “a rather terrible viewing experience.”)

    Although Mulvey’s essay appears to imply that no films have ever succeeded in what she is proposing (lucky for us she picked up a camera to show us how), she does give kudos to Hitchcock.  That is, for Mulvey, one way to short circuit the mastery system to make the audience hyperaware of the mastery taking place.  She points to Vertigo as the perfect example in that Scottie Ferguson “masters” Judy Barton.  He demystifies her, finds out her “secret”, picks out her clothes to wear, forces specific jewelry on her, and even forces her to dye her hair.  As he masters her he also masters his fear by returning with his fetish object (Judy) to the location of the original trauma linked to his fetish object.   According to Mulvey, Hitchcock makes us aware of our role as spectator and makes us feel uncomfortable as Scottie goes through his twisted, obsessive control of Judy.

    Scottie masters Judy and the trauma she’s caused him by manipulating her outer appearance. She becomes a fetish object for him and makes the audience uncomfortable in the process.

    You could make similar arguments in relation to Psycho or Peeping Tom as we’re made uncomfortable by the blatant voyeurism involved – although, unlike Scottie, the protagonist is perceived as mentally ill in both Peeping Tom and Psycho, which provides the normal audience with the opportunity to disconnect or detach themselves from the protagonist – that is to say, audiences can point to Norman Bates and say, “Boy, that guy sure is fucked up.”  (The old, “Well, that’s THEM.  That’s a mentally ill person.  That’s not ME.”)  Whereas with Scottie, we have seen his unfortunate trauma in the opening frames of the film, we relate to his vulnerability, and that vulnerability is double-downed on early in the film as he gets duped.  He is an Everyman who goes through some heavy shit and then becomes obsessive-compulsive in his struggle to regain control of his life and his mental health.

    Unlike in the case of Scottie Ferguson, audiences can disconnect or detach themselves from the protagonists in Peeping Tom and Psycho. In other words, they can point to Norman Bates and say, “Boy, THAT guy sure is fucked up.”

    What’s interesting about Mulvey’s analysis of Vertigo is that it’s difficult to disagree with her in that one could see that this could have been Hitchcock’s intention and that most audiences would agree with her if they’d read her understanding of the film.  So although she’s advocating feminism through a formal (re)construction of cinematic storytelling, when it comes to Vertigo, we’re back to the “content and characters”  as well as either audience reception or authorial intent (this second part is never made clear by Mulvey as it is simply her interpretation of Vertigo in relation to her theory rather than outwardly asserting that Hitchcock intended for us to read it this way or that audiences receive the film in the same way she interprets it).

    If there is necessarily a way to “test” these three avenues, I’d love to see how.  I am attracted to the middle path of suggesting that a combination of all three could factor in, but it seems to me option 1 reigns supreme as a man, woman, or transgender could easily make a feminist film.  It is a point that feminists and those in support of any women’s filmmaking movement may want to take into consideration.

    Related articles
    • Feminist Elitism: Male Feminists, Feminist Ally… How About Just Plain ‘Feminist’? (rubyfruitsydney.wordpress.com)
    • Celebrities Who Say They ARE Feminists (thegloss.com)
    • Margaret Thatcher was no feminist | Hadley Freeman (guardian.co.uk)
    • Iron Lady was a self-serving anti-feminist (irishtimes.com)
    • The Feminist Porn Book Editors Respond to Gayle Rubin (susiebright.blogs.com)
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    Anna Bamboozled Clint Eastwood Do the Right Thing Feminism Film Theory Gaspar Noe Hitchcock Hollywood Laura Mulvey Nazi Nazi propaganda Nazism Peter Wollen Quentin Tarantino Spike Lee Third Reich Vertigo
  • Citizen Twain (2013)

    Burton's rating: 3 stars (out of four)
    Burton’s rating: 3 stars (out of four)

    Written & Directed by Val Kilmer

    Location:  California State University, Northridge’s Valley Performance Arts Center

    Date: April 6, 2013 at 8PM

    Burton’s Rating:  3 stars (out of four)

    Synopsis (from website, credited to Walter Kirn ):  In Citizen Twain, Val Kilmer presents the legend as we’ve never encountered him, with all his glorious contradictions intact, all his strengths and weaknesses in play. Poised on the shadowy border of life and death and in a realm outside of time, Twain is part stand-up comic and part philosopher, an immortal intelligence in a mortal body, both wildly hilarious and deeply somber. With eternity on his mind and whiskey and cigar smoke on his breath, Twain threatens to upstage God himself as he ponders existence’s great issues, from man’s capacity for cruelty to the idiocy of politicians. Twain’s reach as a thinker and conversationalist is shown to be virtually boundless in Kilmer’s play, ranging from matters of science and technology to questions of morality and myth, and proving Twain correct in his assertion that he was not “an American” at all—  he was “the American.” Period.

    My Review:

    Inevitably, most of us reach a point where we question what we’ve done with our lives and what our legacy is.  Sometimes this comes in the form of a mid-life crisis.  We might go out with people half our age, start photoshopping our personal photos, go on a diet, and perhaps buy some new toys (like that convertible we always wanted but were too timid to buy).  Sometimes it will be less “crisis” like and manifest itself in a sort of spiritual reawakening.  We may seek God.  Or, we may seek to take a different turn with our career.  And despite the stigma attached to it, this isn’t always a bad thing.

    Just as an example, Clint Eastwood brilliantly transformed from an iconic genre star into one of the most formidable directors of the past two decades.  Prior to Unforgiven in 1992, who would’ve thunk Dirty Old Harry would helm such wonderful works like The Bridges of Madison County, Mystic River, Million Dollar Baby, Flags of Our Fathers, Letters from Iwo Jima, and Gran Torino?  And who would’ve thought, prior to 1992, that our expectations would be raised so high with an Eastwood-directed film that we would be disappointed with a film like J. Edgar?

    And prior to his bizarre performance at the 2012 Republican convention, no one cared about Eastwood’s political beliefs – even when they shone through within his work.  In fact, most of the American public found themselves supporting the themes in the aforementioned films.  When all is said and done, he may be a Republican but his social and political views are far from one-dimensional.

    That having been said, don’t get me wrong.  Kilmer has not developed a masterpiece with Citizen Twain.  It is not Unforgiven.  But with his corpus being defined by blockbuster films like Willow, Top Gun, Tombstone, and The Doors, Kilmer’s reputation has been pigeonholed in the consciousness of pop culture.  Twain might provide an escape valve without having to deny the aspects of those roles that make them indelible in the American imagination.

    Kilmer's performance at Northridge last evening was charming.  He never once broke character and he rarely appeared ill-at-ease being on a stage.
    Kilmer’s performance at Northridge last evening was charming. He never once broke character and he rarely appeared ill-at-ease being on a stage.

    Kilmer’s performance at Northridge last evening was charming.  He never once broke character and he rarely appeared ill-at-ease being on a stage.  He has developed a reputation in Hollywood as being someone who prepares doggedly and the hard work pays off.  He has also been pegged as someone who is difficult to work with, yet from the minute he entered the theater to the moment that he left the stage, he came across as warm, gracious, and comfortable being among people who were there largely due to his fame.

    What the one man show lacked was coherence.  Kilmer-as-Twain announced early on that he was summoned by God to (1) Finish his Autobiography and (2) Apologize to Mary Baker Eddy for publicly denouncing her.  Why this is, isn’t entirely made clear.  Although Kilmer has a beautiful singing voice, the spirituals he would sing sometimes went on for a bit too long without much obvious connection to where the play was headed.  His selections of quotations and scenes from Twain’s works were often head-scratchers rather than illuminating, and the subplot of Twain’s feud with Mary Baker Eddy seemed oddly plucked out of nowhere.  (Twain knew a lot of famous people – one of his most interesting relationships was with P.T. Barnum – so why Baker?  See below…it gets answered…)

    Surprisingly enough, where Kilmer shines are the moments he’s written himself.
    Surprisingly enough, where Kilmer shines are the moments he’s written himself.

    Surprisingly enough, where Kilmer shines are the moments he’s written himself.  Twain’s quotes have been canonized (and most recently overexploited in Internet memes) to the point of becoming cliché.  When Kilmer takes the “spirit” of Mark Twain and provides a witty sentence that mashes up Twainian humor with pop culture references, Kilmer teeters on the verge of something remarkable.  He not only winds up embodying the Twain persona in those moments (as he once did with Doc Holliday and Jim Morrison), he is literally conjuring up the heart and soul of Twain himself.  It fires up an urge within those of us who grew up reading and loving Twain to beg Kilmer to stay in those moments longer and to avoid the tethers of what’s been canonized on the page.

    As works like the No. 44, The Mysterious Stranger reveal, Twain’s stubbornness would have prevented him from becoming a caricature of himself had he lived forever.  Instead, he was one of the rare public personae – like George Carlin or Richard Pryor from an era just passed – whose culturally conflicted artistry and irascibility consistently provided new material and social criticisms as society and culture evolved.  There is no doubt in my mind that Kilmer has the potential to resurrect the Twain persona in a way that even the great Hal Holbrook has not quite done.  (Holbrook’s performance has been brilliant over the years, but it’s mostly a straight imitation of Twain’s lectures.)  If Kilmer can “break on through,” audiences will be in for something special.

    Kilmer enduring the 90 minute make-up session. (Source: Val Kilmer's Twitter)
    Kilmer enduring the 90 minute make-up session. (Source: Val Kilmer’s Twitter)

    Kilmer’s Q&A lasted just long enough for him to have his makeup removed, to get some quips in, to shed some light onto the project, and to promote a Twain-Eddy biopic script he’s been working on for the past ten years.  (As the program notes in his biography, he will make the film “as soon as he gets the dough.”  In fact, the website for the unfunded film is already up and running.)  I thought it was interesting that he also pointed out that he was happy when he brought on someone to help him direct since he felt he had difficulty directing himself since he couldn’t see himself.  And yet, he didn’t ever mention if anyone helped him with the script – since he couldn’t possibly get out of his own mind and he quite openly acknowledged that he has difficulty with the editing process.  It was rather notable that he asked the crowd if there were parts they didn’t like – though one can’t expect that he really believed anyone would say anything.  I mean, this is Los Angeles we’re talking about.  Who, in Los Angeles (outside of studio execs who won’t greenlight his project at the budget he likely wants to make it for), is going to tell Val Kilmer, in a public auditorium, that there were things about his play that they didn’t like?

    It is more than likely that Kilmer was nervous and anxiety-ridden about the play, how it would be received, and if his writing was up-to-snuff to carry a production.  (Let’s face it, the man is not one to find himself in headlines as some other Hollywood celebrities often find themselves so for him to construct something that is both deeply personal to him and is riding entirely on his performance is likely a nerve-wracking experience for him.)  He lightheartedly mimed the act of taking notes of what not to include for the next performance at two dead spots during the performance.  There were other times during the show where he subtly reacted to the audience not offering the intended reaction (though those in the back of the theater and in the balconies probably did not notice).  He confessed that the show is “80%” finished (which raised the question in my mind, did we get a 20% discount off the regular ticket price?).

    When asked why he decided to include Mary Eddy Baker as a sort of recurring character for Twain to address (as well as the second protagonist in his proposed film), his answer was sort of odd.  He stated that she was one of, if not the, most famous figures of her time and that he felt she had a similar background as Twain. Unfortunately, this is never really made apparent.  The question of “Why?” is something that Kilmer is going to have to answer among more serious circles.  When Spielberg began pursuing his idea to make a film about Lincoln, Barack Obama was one of the most popular leaders in the world.  Debates were raging among Fox and MSNBC “experts” if the election of a black President meant we were now living in “postracial” times.  A film about the 16th POTUS made sense in lieu of a polarized electorate and enamored, overexuberant talking heads comparing Obama to Lincoln.  To create a play and a film on Mark Twain and Mary Baker Eddy right at this moment is going to beg the question, “Why?”

    Me and my lil ol’ blog ain’t bout to ‘fect Kilmer’s outlook.  He will make this film.  There’s no doubt in my mind about that.  However, if he is, indeed, looking for advice it would be that he should highlight the aspects of Twain that makes him relevant to today’s society here and now.  It is not as though Twain doesn’t have enough quotations and books to extract from.  Three main questions that, this humble reviewer thinks, Kilmer ought to consider:

    1. What worries do people in 2013 share with people from Twain’s era?
    2. How did Twain (and Baker) approach or express those anxieties?
    3. What were their answers to those anxieties and how does Kilmer believe we should resolve those problems?

    My gut feeling is that Kilmer believes the country suffers from anxieties about wealth, race, and identity.  I also have a gut feeling that Kilmer believes the answer lies in finding a heightened spirituality within ourselves and within a connection to others – a sort of noösphere-like “one consciousness.”  (The selections from Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer he recited certainly suggest this as a possibility.  As does the fact that he emphasizes Twain’s abandonment of his autobiography and of his writing entirely after his daughter died.) All of this is hinted at throughout, but it doesn’t seem to be underscored as to whether or not this was exactly what Kilmer intended.

    The biggest drawback (or obstacle) is that Kilmer is a Christian Scientist – and Mary Baker Eddy is the founder of Christian Science.  The fact that Kilmer places one of the most outspoken writers and social critics in the history of the United States (and on-again-off-again atheist) in an afterlife situation where he is expected to apologize to Baker might draw attention away from Kilmer’s performance and abilities.  (The fact that Kilmer does have Twain apologize might be read as a bit overboard.)  In fact, Googling “Val Kilmer” and “Christian Scientist” pops up at least one link raising the question if Val Kilmer is “the next Tom Cruise.”  Although his one-man show and film may turn out to be a thinly veiled support of Christian Science beliefs, there does not appear to be anything behind the work to suggest the sort of desire for religious and spiritual conversion that Scientology has become notorious for.  It is a line, however, that he will likely have to tread lightly if he wants to appeal to a target audience that is not constrained the way the work of Tyler Perry or Kirk Cameron have been.  (Although Perry is doing quite well for himself, and has recently attempted to expand outside of the black Christian fanbase he has so amazingly solidified for himself.)

    Religious undertones aside, I would definitely recommend taking the trip out if you have the opportunity to see Kilmer as Citizen Twain.  Yes, the play can be tightened, but I believe Kilmer has a passion for what he is doing with this project and I am convinced that he believes that what he has to offer is a little soul-healing for the American public.  Whether or not he tightens up that message in a way that artfully balances on the tightrope of belief versus indoctrination as his work progresses will be up to those around him who have the writing talent to assist him in fastening the bolts more securely.  Kilmer is clearly a talented, passionate, and conscientious artist whose film will undoubtedly please audiences if it is as entertaining as his one-man show.

    Kilmer’s announced show dates & more info:

    April 18th-21st in Dallas, TX — click here for ticketmaster link

    May 3rd-4th  in Wickenburg, Arizona

    June 28th-July 28th – Culver City, CA

    Citizen Twain Homepage

    Twain-Eddy Film Project (fans can recommend actors for the open roles)

    Note to readers:  I am an atheist, and do not support organized religions.  Kilmer’s benevolent passion and spirituality, however, is a refreshing rarity in today’s fractured society.  His performance is something worth the indulgence, and the veiled belief system behind the Twainian prosthetics is by no means contentious or off-putting.

    Related articles
    • You: Val Kilmer taking his offbeat Mark Twain show on the road (latimes.com)
    • Hal Holbrook’s ‘Mark Twain Tonight’ Keeps The Legacy Alive (denver.cbslocal.com)
    • Mark Twain’s “Advice to Little Girls” as naughty as you’d expect (holykaw.alltop.com)
    California State University Christian Science Citizen Twain Clint Eastwood Hal Holbrook Kilmer Los Angeles Mark Twain Mary Baker Eddy Monologue Northridge One Man Show Reviews Stage Theater Twain Val Kilmer
  • The Raven (2012)
    Availability: Netflix, Amazon Instant Video (rental $3.99), iTunes (rental $3.99)

    Burton's Rating: 2 stars (out of four)
    Burton’s Rating: 2 stars (out of four)

    Burton’s Rating: 2.0 stars (out of four)

    Rotten Tomatoes Critics: 23%
    Rotten Tomatoes Fans: 47%
    IMDB rating: 6.3 stars (out of ten)

    Production Team
    Directed by James McTeigue 
    Written by Ben Livingston and Hannah Shakespeare 
    Executive Producers Glen Basner, Jesus Martinez Asencio, and James D. Sern
    Music by Lucas Vidal
    Cinematography by Danny Ruhlman
    Edited by Niven Howie

    Cast
    John Cusack as Edgar Allan Poe
    Luke Evans as Detective Fields
    Alice Eve as Emily Hamilton
    Brendan Gleeson as Captain Charles Hamilton

    Target Audience: Mainstream
    Budget: $26 million
    Box Office: $22 million
    Genre: Mystery, Thriller
    Rating: R

    Synopsis (from Netflix): “Brilliant-but-boozy author Edgar Allan Poe and a Baltimore cop try to solve a string of baffling murders inspired by Poe’s macabre short stories.”

    I had to. I avoided the film for a year. Normally, I would be excited for an Edgar Allan Poe film since it’s not as though any of the past Poe films captivated fans the way Poe’s writing has. Outside of the Corman films and The Simpsons, how many good Poe adaptations can the average person name? And even the quality of the Corman films is debatable. Vincent Price is involved, so that usually means “fun.” It rarely means “masterpiece.”

    McTeigue’s The Raven isn’t terrible. But it is burdened by the fact that most genre fans came across Stuart Gordon’s “The Black Cat” (2007) from the Masters of Horror series — which is one reason why I waited a year. The hour long metaficitonal Masters of Horror episode is a masterpiece of Gordon’s career. The cinematography is gorgeous, the storyline is engaging, and Jeffrey Combs playing Edgar Allan Poe is stunning – so stunning that Gordon and Combs let Combs loose as Poe in a one-man show stage play called Nevermore. The play’s success resulted in Gordon mentioning a number of times that he and Combs were planning a feature film. The news did what it was supposed to do, create a desire to see a Poe feature film like Gordon’s “The Black Cat.”

    It isn't terrible.
    It isn’t terrible.

    It has been brutal waiting for that commercially-constructed desire to be satiated, so I did what any other horrorphile did when I saw the trailer for The Raven. I groaned. It looked like another mediocre horror film put out by a studio with too much money on its hands, so the box office’s tepid response to the film’s release was no surprise.

    Was it that bad? No. Of the 54 works that IMDB lists as having included Poe as an actual character, The Raven ranks among the best ones available.

    But it wasn’t that good either.

    It’s tolerable. In fact, smoke a joint or throw back some beers and it may even feel like a good waste of an hour and a half of your time.

    The film’s biggest problem is its identity. It appears as though the studio was hoping to ride the wave of historical fiction flooding the marketplace. The problem is that most of the historical films coming out are either made with the attempt of taking itself seriously – Spielberg’s Lincoln – or, so ridiculously exploitative and revisionist that the historical figures themselves are undoubtedly rolling over in their graves – Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter or FDR: American Badass! The Raven, however, is neither. It fictionalizes Poe’s last days alive and puts him in the middle of a series of murders based off his stories. Poe is supposed to be Poe. No hidden ax-wielding powers. No hidden knowledge of the supernatural we didn’t already suspect him of having. Yet, we are expected to believe that Poe has no qualms running headfirst into a building to face danger…nor are we expected to discount images of Poe with a gun in his hand or in his mouth as he climbs a ladder to a catwalk.

    The film attempts to ride the wave of historical fiction flooding the market place.
    The film attempts to ride the wave of historical fiction flooding the market place.

    The film’s concept is that it drops Poe into the type of genre he mastered and innovated. A cool concept. The problem is that Poe’s work was groundbreaking and the film isn’t. Instead, it relies heavily on motifs and imagery that has been recycled over and again in mystery-thrillers including false alarms and wild goose chases.

    The acting is commendable though. Aside from overacting in some of the more high energy scenes, Luke Evans is engaging. Brendan Gleeson does an excellent job given the material, as does the rest of the cast. Alice Eve ably plays Poe’s love Emily (a fictional character), and the presence of Gleeson as her father is a subtly veiled reference to Poe’s marriage to his underage cousin – which is fine because who wants messy issues like incest and pedophilia mixed in with their with mystery thriller? Eve’s performance is weak early on with a notably unintentionally creepy recital of Poe’s Annabelle Lee yet her style suits her and the character well when she finds herself in peril.

    The film's cast provides a commendable performance.
    The film’s cast provides a commendable performance.

    Then there’s Cusack’s performance. He does the best that he can, but he’s John Cusack, so my grievances are things that most people would likely expect going into the movie.

    First of all, he looks almost nothing like Poe. Poe is listed in his West Point records as having been 5’8” while Cusack (6’2”) towers over his fellow cast like an awkward giant, and there’s no effort made to disguise Cusack’s height. And, of course, Poe’s mustache wasn’t apparently cool enough for contemporary audiences, so Cusack dons a more fashionable goatee.

    Poe is listed in his West Point records as having been 5’8” while Cusack (6’2”) towers over his fellow cast like an awkward giant.
    Poe is listed in his West Point records as having been 5’8” while Cusack (6’2”) towers over his fellow cast like an awkward giant.

    Second of all, the scenes Cusack shares with Eve ooze with Lloyd Dobbler to the point that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Cusack hold a phonograph over his head as he stands outside of her urban mansion.

    The scenes Cusack shares with Eve ooze with Lloyd Dobbler.

    And finally, the material Cusack is handed does little to resemble Poe. There’s no Southern accent, Poe’s alcoholism is present as a sort of “necessity” rather than as any added tension to the plot, and the lines he delivers showcase a verbal virtuosity that confuses Poe the conscientious craftsman with a cheap P.T. Barnum wordsmith fueled by jealousy, booze, and a seemingly endless vocabulary.

    Cusack’s performance becomes analogous to the movie itself. It’s not bad, but it’s not terrible. Better than mediocre. The cinematography is striking, but the camera movements and transitions are almost cliché for the genre as it capitalizes on tinsel town factory line visuals like repeated pan fades as transitions, cutaways from character to wall-mounted clock, and mysterious figures looming in the smoky distance as devices to build tension. The direction is capable, but not pioneering. The gore and blood won’t shock a horror fan but it’s enough to set mainstream contemporary audiences ill-at-ease. The film is Sherlock Holmes-lite crossed with a faux-Gordon’s The Black Cat – with a heavy emphasis on “faux.”

    The weakest link is really the script. The concept could have reaped benefits, but the screenplay relies on far too many generic conventions like the false alarms, false scares, mistaken identities, and a killer whose true identity you only would have guessed if you were one of the writers of the film. When Poe finally confronts the mysterious killer it is a moment that mutates into a metafictional self-critique. Since the killer is a copycat killer as he murders using scenarios straight out of Poe’s fiction, the critique is that the killer is misreading and murdering Poe’s fiction and intention rather than bringing his work to life. These filmmakers are doing the same as the script lacks the narrative innovation that Poe’s work has been commended for. With lines like “What about Poe? Any sign of him?” as if he’s Batman, and “Find him, Edgar.” as the writer’s injured friend urges him to go on without them, Poe’s bones writhe in pain as the scratching out of a vitriolic movie review on the inside panel of his rotted coffin echoes through the streets of Baltimore.

    The film isn’t awful though, but it does raise questions like where are all the good Poe adaptations? Why is it so difficult to adapt Poe? Why is it that Poe is always depicted as getting thrown out of bars? Did Poe really have a pet raccoon? Why is Jeffrey Combs the only actor to speak with a Southern accent as Poe? And what really did happen in the days leading up to Poe’s death?

    Unfortunately, The Raven attempts to answer only one of those questions in a promising yet vaguely unfulfilling series of trite mechanic narrative movements. With a little luck, Gordon and Combs will succeed where few others have. In the meantime, here are a few sources as starting points for those seeking out answers for themselves:

    Edgar A. Poe: A Biography by Kenneth Silverman

    Edgar Allan Poe: A Critical Biography by Arthur Hobson

    Edgar Allan Poe: His Life and Legacy by Jeffrey Meyers

    Alice Eve Amazon Instant Video Cusack Edgar Allan Poe James McTeigue John Cusack Poe Raven
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Tag: Hal Holbrook

6 CITIZEN TWAIN (2013)

  • April 7, 2013
  • by burtoncorliss
  • · Reviews

Citizen Twain (2013)

Burton's rating: 3 stars (out of four)
Burton’s rating: 3 stars (out of four)

Written & Directed by Val Kilmer

Location:  California State University, Northridge’s Valley Performance Arts Center

Date: April 6, 2013 at 8PM

Burton’s Rating:  3 stars (out of four)

Synopsis (from website, credited to Walter Kirn ):  In Citizen Twain, Val Kilmer presents the legend as we’ve never encountered him, with all his glorious contradictions intact, all his strengths and weaknesses in play. Poised on the shadowy border of life and death and in a realm outside of time, Twain is part stand-up comic and part philosopher, an immortal intelligence in a mortal body, both wildly hilarious and deeply somber. With eternity on his mind and whiskey and cigar smoke on his breath, Twain threatens to upstage God himself as he ponders existence’s great issues, from man’s capacity for cruelty to the idiocy of politicians. Twain’s reach as a thinker and conversationalist is shown to be virtually boundless in Kilmer’s play, ranging from matters of science and technology to questions of morality and myth, and proving Twain correct in his assertion that he was not “an American” at all—  he was “the American.” Period.

My Review:

Inevitably, most of us reach a point where we question what we’ve done with our lives and what our legacy is.  Sometimes this comes in the form of a mid-life crisis.  We might go out with people half our age, start photoshopping our personal photos, go on a diet, and perhaps buy some new toys (like that convertible we always wanted but were too timid to buy).  Sometimes it will be less “crisis” like and manifest itself in a sort of spiritual reawakening.  We may seek God.  Or, we may seek to take a different turn with our career.  And despite the stigma attached to it, this isn’t always a bad thing.

Just as an example, Clint Eastwood brilliantly transformed from an iconic genre star into one of the most formidable directors of the past two decades.  Prior to Unforgiven in 1992, who would’ve thunk Dirty Old Harry would helm such wonderful works like The Bridges of Madison County, Mystic River, Million Dollar Baby, Flags of Our Fathers, Letters from Iwo Jima, and Gran Torino?  And who would’ve thought, prior to 1992, that our expectations would be raised so high with an Eastwood-directed film that we would be disappointed with a film like J. Edgar?

And prior to his bizarre performance at the 2012 Republican convention, no one cared about Eastwood’s political beliefs – even when they shone through within his work.  In fact, most of the American public found themselves supporting the themes in the aforementioned films.  When all is said and done, he may be a Republican but his social and political views are far from one-dimensional.

That having been said, don’t get me wrong.  Kilmer has not developed a masterpiece with Citizen Twain.  It is not Unforgiven.  But with his corpus being defined by blockbuster films like Willow, Top Gun, Tombstone, and The Doors, Kilmer’s reputation has been pigeonholed in the consciousness of pop culture.  Twain might provide an escape valve without having to deny the aspects of those roles that make them indelible in the American imagination.

Kilmer's performance at Northridge last evening was charming.  He never once broke character and he rarely appeared ill-at-ease being on a stage.
Kilmer’s performance at Northridge last evening was charming. He never once broke character and he rarely appeared ill-at-ease being on a stage.

Kilmer’s performance at Northridge last evening was charming.  He never once broke character and he rarely appeared ill-at-ease being on a stage.  He has developed a reputation in Hollywood as being someone who prepares doggedly and the hard work pays off.  He has also been pegged as someone who is difficult to work with, yet from the minute he entered the theater to the moment that he left the stage, he came across as warm, gracious, and comfortable being among people who were there largely due to his fame.

What the one man show lacked was coherence.  Kilmer-as-Twain announced early on that he was summoned by God to (1) Finish his Autobiography and (2) Apologize to Mary Baker Eddy for publicly denouncing her.  Why this is, isn’t entirely made clear.  Although Kilmer has a beautiful singing voice, the spirituals he would sing sometimes went on for a bit too long without much obvious connection to where the play was headed.  His selections of quotations and scenes from Twain’s works were often head-scratchers rather than illuminating, and the subplot of Twain’s feud with Mary Baker Eddy seemed oddly plucked out of nowhere.  (Twain knew a lot of famous people – one of his most interesting relationships was with P.T. Barnum – so why Baker?  See below…it gets answered…)

Surprisingly enough, where Kilmer shines are the moments he’s written himself.
Surprisingly enough, where Kilmer shines are the moments he’s written himself.

Surprisingly enough, where Kilmer shines are the moments he’s written himself.  Twain’s quotes have been canonized (and most recently overexploited in Internet memes) to the point of becoming cliché.  When Kilmer takes the “spirit” of Mark Twain and provides a witty sentence that mashes up Twainian humor with pop culture references, Kilmer teeters on the verge of something remarkable.  He not only winds up embodying the Twain persona in those moments (as he once did with Doc Holliday and Jim Morrison), he is literally conjuring up the heart and soul of Twain himself.  It fires up an urge within those of us who grew up reading and loving Twain to beg Kilmer to stay in those moments longer and to avoid the tethers of what’s been canonized on the page.

As works like the No. 44, The Mysterious Stranger reveal, Twain’s stubbornness would have prevented him from becoming a caricature of himself had he lived forever.  Instead, he was one of the rare public personae – like George Carlin or Richard Pryor from an era just passed – whose culturally conflicted artistry and irascibility consistently provided new material and social criticisms as society and culture evolved.  There is no doubt in my mind that Kilmer has the potential to resurrect the Twain persona in a way that even the great Hal Holbrook has not quite done.  (Holbrook’s performance has been brilliant over the years, but it’s mostly a straight imitation of Twain’s lectures.)  If Kilmer can “break on through,” audiences will be in for something special.

Kilmer enduring the 90 minute make-up session. (Source: Val Kilmer's Twitter)
Kilmer enduring the 90 minute make-up session. (Source: Val Kilmer’s Twitter)

Kilmer’s Q&A lasted just long enough for him to have his makeup removed, to get some quips in, to shed some light onto the project, and to promote a Twain-Eddy biopic script he’s been working on for the past ten years.  (As the program notes in his biography, he will make the film “as soon as he gets the dough.”  In fact, the website for the unfunded film is already up and running.)  I thought it was interesting that he also pointed out that he was happy when he brought on someone to help him direct since he felt he had difficulty directing himself since he couldn’t see himself.  And yet, he didn’t ever mention if anyone helped him with the script – since he couldn’t possibly get out of his own mind and he quite openly acknowledged that he has difficulty with the editing process.  It was rather notable that he asked the crowd if there were parts they didn’t like – though one can’t expect that he really believed anyone would say anything.  I mean, this is Los Angeles we’re talking about.  Who, in Los Angeles (outside of studio execs who won’t greenlight his project at the budget he likely wants to make it for), is going to tell Val Kilmer, in a public auditorium, that there were things about his play that they didn’t like?

It is more than likely that Kilmer was nervous and anxiety-ridden about the play, how it would be received, and if his writing was up-to-snuff to carry a production.  (Let’s face it, the man is not one to find himself in headlines as some other Hollywood celebrities often find themselves so for him to construct something that is both deeply personal to him and is riding entirely on his performance is likely a nerve-wracking experience for him.)  He lightheartedly mimed the act of taking notes of what not to include for the next performance at two dead spots during the performance.  There were other times during the show where he subtly reacted to the audience not offering the intended reaction (though those in the back of the theater and in the balconies probably did not notice).  He confessed that the show is “80%” finished (which raised the question in my mind, did we get a 20% discount off the regular ticket price?).

When asked why he decided to include Mary Eddy Baker as a sort of recurring character for Twain to address (as well as the second protagonist in his proposed film), his answer was sort of odd.  He stated that she was one of, if not the, most famous figures of her time and that he felt she had a similar background as Twain. Unfortunately, this is never really made apparent.  The question of “Why?” is something that Kilmer is going to have to answer among more serious circles.  When Spielberg began pursuing his idea to make a film about Lincoln, Barack Obama was one of the most popular leaders in the world.  Debates were raging among Fox and MSNBC “experts” if the election of a black President meant we were now living in “postracial” times.  A film about the 16th POTUS made sense in lieu of a polarized electorate and enamored, overexuberant talking heads comparing Obama to Lincoln.  To create a play and a film on Mark Twain and Mary Baker Eddy right at this moment is going to beg the question, “Why?”

Me and my lil ol’ blog ain’t bout to ‘fect Kilmer’s outlook.  He will make this film.  There’s no doubt in my mind about that.  However, if he is, indeed, looking for advice it would be that he should highlight the aspects of Twain that makes him relevant to today’s society here and now.  It is not as though Twain doesn’t have enough quotations and books to extract from.  Three main questions that, this humble reviewer thinks, Kilmer ought to consider:

  1. What worries do people in 2013 share with people from Twain’s era?
  2. How did Twain (and Baker) approach or express those anxieties?
  3. What were their answers to those anxieties and how does Kilmer believe we should resolve those problems?

My gut feeling is that Kilmer believes the country suffers from anxieties about wealth, race, and identity.  I also have a gut feeling that Kilmer believes the answer lies in finding a heightened spirituality within ourselves and within a connection to others – a sort of noösphere-like “one consciousness.”  (The selections from Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer he recited certainly suggest this as a possibility.  As does the fact that he emphasizes Twain’s abandonment of his autobiography and of his writing entirely after his daughter died.) All of this is hinted at throughout, but it doesn’t seem to be underscored as to whether or not this was exactly what Kilmer intended.

The biggest drawback (or obstacle) is that Kilmer is a Christian Scientist – and Mary Baker Eddy is the founder of Christian Science.  The fact that Kilmer places one of the most outspoken writers and social critics in the history of the United States (and on-again-off-again atheist) in an afterlife situation where he is expected to apologize to Baker might draw attention away from Kilmer’s performance and abilities.  (The fact that Kilmer does have Twain apologize might be read as a bit overboard.)  In fact, Googling “Val Kilmer” and “Christian Scientist” pops up at least one link raising the question if Val Kilmer is “the next Tom Cruise.”  Although his one-man show and film may turn out to be a thinly veiled support of Christian Science beliefs, there does not appear to be anything behind the work to suggest the sort of desire for religious and spiritual conversion that Scientology has become notorious for.  It is a line, however, that he will likely have to tread lightly if he wants to appeal to a target audience that is not constrained the way the work of Tyler Perry or Kirk Cameron have been.  (Although Perry is doing quite well for himself, and has recently attempted to expand outside of the black Christian fanbase he has so amazingly solidified for himself.)

Religious undertones aside, I would definitely recommend taking the trip out if you have the opportunity to see Kilmer as Citizen Twain.  Yes, the play can be tightened, but I believe Kilmer has a passion for what he is doing with this project and I am convinced that he believes that what he has to offer is a little soul-healing for the American public.  Whether or not he tightens up that message in a way that artfully balances on the tightrope of belief versus indoctrination as his work progresses will be up to those around him who have the writing talent to assist him in fastening the bolts more securely.  Kilmer is clearly a talented, passionate, and conscientious artist whose film will undoubtedly please audiences if it is as entertaining as his one-man show.

Kilmer’s announced show dates & more info:

April 18th-21st in Dallas, TX — click here for ticketmaster link

May 3rd-4th  in Wickenburg, Arizona

June 28th-July 28th – Culver City, CA

Citizen Twain Homepage

Twain-Eddy Film Project (fans can recommend actors for the open roles)

Note to readers:  I am an atheist, and do not support organized religions.  Kilmer’s benevolent passion and spirituality, however, is a refreshing rarity in today’s fractured society.  His performance is something worth the indulgence, and the veiled belief system behind the Twainian prosthetics is by no means contentious or off-putting.

Related articles
  • You: Val Kilmer taking his offbeat Mark Twain show on the road (latimes.com)
  • Hal Holbrook’s ‘Mark Twain Tonight’ Keeps The Legacy Alive (denver.cbslocal.com)
  • Mark Twain’s “Advice to Little Girls” as naughty as you’d expect (holykaw.alltop.com)

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