The Curious Oeuvre Of David Fincher
Madonna's Vogue vid, the smoking foetus ad campaign for the American Cancer Society, Nike's Fate spot... (the Wikipedia-fuelled rumour about him doing a Sprite ad with Asian pop starlets is probably false.)
And now, there's The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. Oh, but Benjamin Button is a beauty of a film; graceful and eloquent, a long Bayeux tapestry of magic realism. Indeed, I'm going to overuse the word beautiful in this entry, because Benjamin Button is just so.
Does it feel like a David Fincher film? It doesn't have that particular darkness ascribed to Fincher - it's not so much dark as deep. Whether it's a cavernous train station, an old house at midnight, a Russian hotel lobby, or the merciless Atlantic, you feel you're at the heart of something big and interconnected. Because no matter how small the space, everything leads somewhere, and there is a world outside. This allows the film to escape the boxed-in feel of most historical dramas. Aiding this is variance in light and saturation - one moment we see the deep red of Daisy's hair and dress in the noirish clubby 50s, the next we have the washed-out aquarium blue of the hospital ward. Fincher juxtaposes amaryllis and chestnut for a Paris summer, grainy rock and ochre as Benjamin wanders India.
Of course, the heart of any film is its cast. A lot has been made of Brad Pitt's poor luck at the Oscars, and I wouldn't be surprised if this were his year. But it would be akin to Denzel Washington's Oscar for Training Day, recognition for his cumulative work awarded at an opportune moment. Frankly, the craft in becoming Benjamin Button is in restraint. Benjamin is a little like Forrest Gump, an observer, and in some ways, an innocent. I quote (imperfectly):
"What's it like to grow younger as everyone around you gets older?" asks Cate Blanchett's character in a tender moment.
"I can't really say. I'm always looking out of my own eyes."
Looking out at the world is what Benjamin does best. He may be a curiosity, but so are the people around him, who age ordinarily but live extraordinarily. Mr Gateau, the blind clockmaker; Queenie, Benjamin's adoptive mother; Mr Weathers with his spontaneous declamations; Captain Mike and his motley crew; Benjamin's flawed and remorseful father; Julia Ormond as our modern-day anchor character (why don't we see more of Julia Ormond these days, I ask you?). My favourite amongst them all was the Tilda Swinton character - I'd better not spoil it for readers, but I've always enjoyed Swinton as an actor, and there was a little resonant frisson thinking of her role in Orlando as the eponymous ageless hero(ine).
As for Cate Blanchett, I can't rave enough. Blanchett and Taraji Henson (as Queenie) do most of the emoting in the film, almost in compensation for Benjamin's hesitant, constantly bemused state. But it's a good balance, and Blanchett is far less brittle and OTT than she was in Elizabeth. Here, she is a woman in her entirety - ingenue, minx, lover, mother, guardian, victim. There is a moment in the film when she rises from bed to the sound of a motorcycle being kick-started, and without saying anything, just from the look in her eyes and her breathing, you feel the depths of her pain. It's a tremendous pity that she's not up for an Oscar (but I suppose this really should be Kate Winslet's long-overdue award, anyway).
Of course, it helps that the make-up and special effects for Benjamin Button are absolutely top-notch, turning the clock backwards for Blanchett to be at her most luminously beautiful, and then forward to a poignant decline. I should note too that Brad Pitt, whose famed looks I've never really appreciated, is aged convincingly and to a neat aesthetic. Why this succeeds is because the artists have been able to adjust body frame as well as facial characteristics. When Benjamin Button regresses to his early twenties and late teens, his frame becomes lanky and lean. It makes all the difference. It just proves that CGI needn't be dungeons-and-dragons fakery, it can really be a gift to filmgoers if applied well.
Final words: If you haven't already watched this film and wept and laughed, do. Oh, and ignore the Ebert review, for once.
And now, there's The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. Oh, but Benjamin Button is a beauty of a film; graceful and eloquent, a long Bayeux tapestry of magic realism. Indeed, I'm going to overuse the word beautiful in this entry, because Benjamin Button is just so.
Does it feel like a David Fincher film? It doesn't have that particular darkness ascribed to Fincher - it's not so much dark as deep. Whether it's a cavernous train station, an old house at midnight, a Russian hotel lobby, or the merciless Atlantic, you feel you're at the heart of something big and interconnected. Because no matter how small the space, everything leads somewhere, and there is a world outside. This allows the film to escape the boxed-in feel of most historical dramas. Aiding this is variance in light and saturation - one moment we see the deep red of Daisy's hair and dress in the noirish clubby 50s, the next we have the washed-out aquarium blue of the hospital ward. Fincher juxtaposes amaryllis and chestnut for a Paris summer, grainy rock and ochre as Benjamin wanders India.
Of course, the heart of any film is its cast. A lot has been made of Brad Pitt's poor luck at the Oscars, and I wouldn't be surprised if this were his year. But it would be akin to Denzel Washington's Oscar for Training Day, recognition for his cumulative work awarded at an opportune moment. Frankly, the craft in becoming Benjamin Button is in restraint. Benjamin is a little like Forrest Gump, an observer, and in some ways, an innocent. I quote (imperfectly):
"What's it like to grow younger as everyone around you gets older?" asks Cate Blanchett's character in a tender moment.
"I can't really say. I'm always looking out of my own eyes."
Looking out at the world is what Benjamin does best. He may be a curiosity, but so are the people around him, who age ordinarily but live extraordinarily. Mr Gateau, the blind clockmaker; Queenie, Benjamin's adoptive mother; Mr Weathers with his spontaneous declamations; Captain Mike and his motley crew; Benjamin's flawed and remorseful father; Julia Ormond as our modern-day anchor character (why don't we see more of Julia Ormond these days, I ask you?). My favourite amongst them all was the Tilda Swinton character - I'd better not spoil it for readers, but I've always enjoyed Swinton as an actor, and there was a little resonant frisson thinking of her role in Orlando as the eponymous ageless hero(ine).
As for Cate Blanchett, I can't rave enough. Blanchett and Taraji Henson (as Queenie) do most of the emoting in the film, almost in compensation for Benjamin's hesitant, constantly bemused state. But it's a good balance, and Blanchett is far less brittle and OTT than she was in Elizabeth. Here, she is a woman in her entirety - ingenue, minx, lover, mother, guardian, victim. There is a moment in the film when she rises from bed to the sound of a motorcycle being kick-started, and without saying anything, just from the look in her eyes and her breathing, you feel the depths of her pain. It's a tremendous pity that she's not up for an Oscar (but I suppose this really should be Kate Winslet's long-overdue award, anyway).
Of course, it helps that the make-up and special effects for Benjamin Button are absolutely top-notch, turning the clock backwards for Blanchett to be at her most luminously beautiful, and then forward to a poignant decline. I should note too that Brad Pitt, whose famed looks I've never really appreciated, is aged convincingly and to a neat aesthetic. Why this succeeds is because the artists have been able to adjust body frame as well as facial characteristics. When Benjamin Button regresses to his early twenties and late teens, his frame becomes lanky and lean. It makes all the difference. It just proves that CGI needn't be dungeons-and-dragons fakery, it can really be a gift to filmgoers if applied well.
Final words: If you haven't already watched this film and wept and laughed, do. Oh, and ignore the Ebert review, for once.