The Back of My Throat Tastes Like Burnt Perm
Seriously, the 'RainBlow Pops,' which are apparently a blend of chemically-induced pineapple, cherry and turpentine, taste the way that hair salons smell. The first thing I smell in a hair salon is the perm chemicals, that smell of chemically treated burnt hair. It's weirdly comforting because I do like getting my hair cut and it reminds me of when my mother would take me with her to get her hair done, but aesthetically it's nasty.
Overall, I give it 4.75 out of 5. The performances are solid, not a weak characterization in the entire film. Art direction, setpieces and all were well constructed if a bit plain.
Russell Crowe, on a bounce-back from that wine movie I didn't see and won't, is as charismatic as he's ever been as well-dressed 'gentlemen' outlaw Ben Wade. A problem in cinema recently is that 'bad guys' are usually more fun and complex than the protagonist, and therefore more accessible. That only applies here in moments where Wade is working his charm on someone--you only like him when he chooses to be likeable, which is not the whole movie by any means. Crowe plays a sociopath, a charming, smooth and well-spoken brute who can quote Bible Verses in context and kills members of his own gang to enforce his rule. There's a method to his madness, a complex code dictating his actions that emerges throughout the piece. Sure, we've seen the charming sociopath in films before, but this is also Russell Crowe, who doesn't do anything unless it's to the hilt in its intensity. There's never a point where you hate him though, which I think would have greatly helped the overall experience.
Likewise, Christian Bale nails his performance as rancher Dan Evans, a former Civil War Sharpshooter with a wooden leg and a string of bad luck. Condemned as a weakling by his eldest son for not fighting the loanshark who burned down his barn, Evans struggles to fulfill his role as provider for a family, including wife Gretchen Mol (who was meh but serviceable) and tubercular youngest son Mark. Barely recognizable under the sun-damaged skin makeup, Bale's western accent is perfect and his movements as a handicapped man are subtle enough that he isn't rolling like a drunken sailor, but rather only evinces a slight stoic limp, just barely reminding you of what he has to deal with in addition to the enormous debt he's under and a sickly cattle herd. His debt to a crooked businessman means he'll lose his ranch, just in time for the businessman to sell to the railroad and make a tidy sum of money, while Evans and his family will be homeless. Bale's first appearance, sitting up in bed with his gun, listening hard for whatever sound woke him, immediately impressed upon me desperation, fear, and also a general powerlesslness that I think someone in his position would have. His eyes are haunted and dart here and there, and he puts me in mind of war vets whose battles are now internalized, of PTSD no matter what century the war took place in. He elects to join the party taking Wade to the train not because he has some underlying sense of honor and such, although that certianly plays into it, but because the sum agreed upon for the task--200 dollars--was the amount of the government's compensation for the loss of his leg, a fact he bitterly recounts to his wife.
Ben Foster, who I'd never heard of until the other day (I've managed to somehow miss almost everything noteworthy he's been in) almost stole the show as Wade's sadistic and sharply-dressed lieutenant Charlie Prince. The man's wardrobe consisted of only two pieces, jacket and pants, but they were fierce and I want them. It also neatly addressed the idea that the more dangerous a man was, the more ridiculous or outlandish his outfit could be without fear of criticism from peers. If a guy can shoot down six men in under five seconds and not miss a target, then who was really going to pick on him for keeping his cravat neatly knotted and wearing a sash? Otherwise, Foster's performance was chilling and yet clownish at times, and his mad devotion to Wade provides a fractured reflection of the father-son relationship Evans has (or doesn't have) with his own son William.
I've heard a lot of guff about the ending being unbelievable, and if you're talking about trying to recreate history with perfect accuracy then perhaps it is. But in the context of the film, which foreshadows the ending with a solid subtlety, it makes perfect sense. And while the rest of the film is no slouch, the last fifteen-twenty minutes are just magnificent. I also couldn't accurately guess the ending, which is something I'm able to do with many movies in general and some Westerns in particular.
What's funny is that although this takes place in the west, I wouldn't immediately categorize it a Western. Or more accurately, it stands on its own as a film free of genre restrictions. There's a dark tone to it that's only prevalent towards the end, although ultimately I found it darkly optimistic. It seems obvious that in another time these two superficially different men would be great allies, and despite their circumstances a mutual respect for each other's abilities and motivations develops.
Its examination of ambiguous moral codes isn't terribly profound or unique, but is presented solidly and well-crafted. Its curious return to those same preexisting codes borders on homage to the earlier Westerns of Gary Cooper and Audie Murphy, although there is still an undercurrent to the characters that darker fare like Unforgiven explored. There's also something deliciously historic and auspicious about a western with no American actors in the lead, as it sometimes seems to me that the western, that most American of tropes, is best handled by foreign talent. I can't think of any examples other than Sergio Leone and oddly, Garth Ennis for his work on the Preacher series, but I'm certain they're extant. Perhaps I'll have to examine this more closely.
If you don't like 'Westerns' but enjoy excellent filmmaking and don't mind violence, you'll enjoy this film. I read a lot of reviews that talked about how bloody this film was and I really didn't find it so. . . Pan's Labyrinth was worse by far in terms of the 'squirm factor,' or the fight in Deadwood where Dan Dority hit that guy so hard his eyeball fell out. Yuma was certainly violent but not at all gory, and the violence wasn't glorified or presented as anything but a means to an end, or a contemporary tool of daily life in an otherwise unfair and sometimes cruel time.
The only weakness to the film is that it toes several lines without crossing, but I think that's less a detriment than a good choice from the director. I sometimes don't WANT to feel like my senses and sensibilities were just ruthlessly assailed.
*****In Other News******
I just met the Mayor of Ocoee! His wife is one of my many bosses, and he came by for a visit. We talked about HOA's and how they sucked, and he remarked on the poster on my wall.
Neat!
Overall, I give it 4.75 out of 5. The performances are solid, not a weak characterization in the entire film. Art direction, setpieces and all were well constructed if a bit plain.
Russell Crowe, on a bounce-back from that wine movie I didn't see and won't, is as charismatic as he's ever been as well-dressed 'gentlemen' outlaw Ben Wade. A problem in cinema recently is that 'bad guys' are usually more fun and complex than the protagonist, and therefore more accessible. That only applies here in moments where Wade is working his charm on someone--you only like him when he chooses to be likeable, which is not the whole movie by any means. Crowe plays a sociopath, a charming, smooth and well-spoken brute who can quote Bible Verses in context and kills members of his own gang to enforce his rule. There's a method to his madness, a complex code dictating his actions that emerges throughout the piece. Sure, we've seen the charming sociopath in films before, but this is also Russell Crowe, who doesn't do anything unless it's to the hilt in its intensity. There's never a point where you hate him though, which I think would have greatly helped the overall experience.
Likewise, Christian Bale nails his performance as rancher Dan Evans, a former Civil War Sharpshooter with a wooden leg and a string of bad luck. Condemned as a weakling by his eldest son for not fighting the loanshark who burned down his barn, Evans struggles to fulfill his role as provider for a family, including wife Gretchen Mol (who was meh but serviceable) and tubercular youngest son Mark. Barely recognizable under the sun-damaged skin makeup, Bale's western accent is perfect and his movements as a handicapped man are subtle enough that he isn't rolling like a drunken sailor, but rather only evinces a slight stoic limp, just barely reminding you of what he has to deal with in addition to the enormous debt he's under and a sickly cattle herd. His debt to a crooked businessman means he'll lose his ranch, just in time for the businessman to sell to the railroad and make a tidy sum of money, while Evans and his family will be homeless. Bale's first appearance, sitting up in bed with his gun, listening hard for whatever sound woke him, immediately impressed upon me desperation, fear, and also a general powerlesslness that I think someone in his position would have. His eyes are haunted and dart here and there, and he puts me in mind of war vets whose battles are now internalized, of PTSD no matter what century the war took place in. He elects to join the party taking Wade to the train not because he has some underlying sense of honor and such, although that certianly plays into it, but because the sum agreed upon for the task--200 dollars--was the amount of the government's compensation for the loss of his leg, a fact he bitterly recounts to his wife.
Ben Foster, who I'd never heard of until the other day (I've managed to somehow miss almost everything noteworthy he's been in) almost stole the show as Wade's sadistic and sharply-dressed lieutenant Charlie Prince. The man's wardrobe consisted of only two pieces, jacket and pants, but they were fierce and I want them. It also neatly addressed the idea that the more dangerous a man was, the more ridiculous or outlandish his outfit could be without fear of criticism from peers. If a guy can shoot down six men in under five seconds and not miss a target, then who was really going to pick on him for keeping his cravat neatly knotted and wearing a sash? Otherwise, Foster's performance was chilling and yet clownish at times, and his mad devotion to Wade provides a fractured reflection of the father-son relationship Evans has (or doesn't have) with his own son William.
I've heard a lot of guff about the ending being unbelievable, and if you're talking about trying to recreate history with perfect accuracy then perhaps it is. But in the context of the film, which foreshadows the ending with a solid subtlety, it makes perfect sense. And while the rest of the film is no slouch, the last fifteen-twenty minutes are just magnificent. I also couldn't accurately guess the ending, which is something I'm able to do with many movies in general and some Westerns in particular.
What's funny is that although this takes place in the west, I wouldn't immediately categorize it a Western. Or more accurately, it stands on its own as a film free of genre restrictions. There's a dark tone to it that's only prevalent towards the end, although ultimately I found it darkly optimistic. It seems obvious that in another time these two superficially different men would be great allies, and despite their circumstances a mutual respect for each other's abilities and motivations develops.
Its examination of ambiguous moral codes isn't terribly profound or unique, but is presented solidly and well-crafted. Its curious return to those same preexisting codes borders on homage to the earlier Westerns of Gary Cooper and Audie Murphy, although there is still an undercurrent to the characters that darker fare like Unforgiven explored. There's also something deliciously historic and auspicious about a western with no American actors in the lead, as it sometimes seems to me that the western, that most American of tropes, is best handled by foreign talent. I can't think of any examples other than Sergio Leone and oddly, Garth Ennis for his work on the Preacher series, but I'm certain they're extant. Perhaps I'll have to examine this more closely.
If you don't like 'Westerns' but enjoy excellent filmmaking and don't mind violence, you'll enjoy this film. I read a lot of reviews that talked about how bloody this film was and I really didn't find it so. . . Pan's Labyrinth was worse by far in terms of the 'squirm factor,' or the fight in Deadwood where Dan Dority hit that guy so hard his eyeball fell out. Yuma was certainly violent but not at all gory, and the violence wasn't glorified or presented as anything but a means to an end, or a contemporary tool of daily life in an otherwise unfair and sometimes cruel time.
The only weakness to the film is that it toes several lines without crossing, but I think that's less a detriment than a good choice from the director. I sometimes don't WANT to feel like my senses and sensibilities were just ruthlessly assailed.
*****In Other News******
I just met the Mayor of Ocoee! His wife is one of my many bosses, and he came by for a visit. We talked about HOA's and how they sucked, and he remarked on the poster on my wall.
Neat!