By David Elliott
APPETIZER: Reviews of Wonder Woman and Churchill
Wonder Woman
The
ancient Greeks converted their early history into myths and legends. Cashing in
on the riches, our culture converted them into literature (Shakespeare, Joyce, Kazantzakis)
and into comic books. Guess which source the movies prefer? The $150 million Wonder Woman is a multiplex myth about
female empowerment, using the old Amazons legend about an island race of warrior
women. Essentially, with its epic vistas of a lost paradise, this is DC Comics trying to be Classics Illustrated, with lots of CGI
(Classical Greek Improvisation).
Israel’s
Gal Gadot (actor, model, singer, martial artist, super-woman!) is the gal and
Gadot that the DC film empire has waited for. Curves rounding to match her
glowing war shield, hair blowing superbly, she’s like a buff echo of young
Ashley Judd, balancing martial arts and humane pity. Diana is a heroine with
goddess powers (as for her biological start, was there a sperm donation from Sparta?).
One can see why girls would “relate” to Diana’s beauty, zest, courage and
ability to bounce hot bullets off her hands. Yes, bullets. The ring of sea fog
protecting the Amazonian isle is pierced by a WWI German gunship. Diana saves
Steve, an American spy for Britain who hopes to stop the last desperate scheme
of Field Marshal Ludendorff, as Germany loses the war.
Ludendorff
(Danny Huston) is ludicrous, like a rotting slab of Bavarian cheese (his lethal-gas
chemist is a disfigured neurotic who seems to be the Spirit of All Embittered
Women). As Steve, Chris Pine fulfills his last name, as his wooden hero spouts mediocre
dialog. But the hunk excites Diana, and in late 1918 they go to the trenches. Near
a Belgian village they find a Wild West Indian (Eugene Brave Rock) who is called,
of course, Chief. They liberate the town by destroying its old, cherished
church (c’est la guerre). And
who should show up nearby, for a deluxe ball, but the Kaiser, despite losing the
war and his throne.
The
climax is the usual DC carnival of kitsch mayhem, heavy on effects. Surging into villain service is David
Thewlis, who looks like a pasty London librarian on his way to becoming a mythic god
of war. Why quibble? World boxoffice could hit a billion, and Gadot is set for
sequels. Maybe one will return to the ancient world, and she can join forces
with Kirk Douglas from Ulysses. His
sequel is overdue.
Churchill
Brian
Cox is a brave actor, and to perform both Big John, the sensitive pedophile in L.I.E. (2001) and Sir Winston Churchill
is quite an arc. In Churchill, he’s
got the bulk and build, the bulldog growl and the props (cigar, brandy, bow
tie), though he often looks more like Winston’s difficult son, Randolph. The
film cuts against the grand Churchill image. It’s about his crisis of nerve in
June 1944, worried sick that the all-important invasion of France (Operation Overlord)
will be a bloody fiasco like the World War I disaster at Gallipoli. The old
lion senses that his Blitz glory is past, that power has passed to the
Americans and Russians, and that decisive control belongs to Gen. Eisenhower (a
bland John Slattery).
Cox
has moments, notably when, in a spasm of fierce prayer, he switches attention
from God to whiskey. He struggles to find the winsomely cherubic charm of the
great man in his positive moods. The movie’s problem is that Jonathan Teblitzky
directed a chamber gallery of talk scenes. These talkers are on close terms: Eisenhower
is Ike, Winston is Win, wife Clementine is Clemmie, Field Marshal Montgomery is
Monty, Field Marshal Brook is Brooky. Thankfully George VI is not Kingy, and is
touchingly acted by James Purefoy. Is the not very gripping dramatic crisis
being, perhaps, inflated? William Manchester’s big biography of Churchill says
the PM assured Ike, a month before D-day, “I am in this thing with you to the
end.”
SALAD (A List)
Good Movie Depictions of Winston
Churchill: Simon Ward in Young Winston, 1972; Robert Hardy in Winston Churchill: The Wilderness Years,
1981; Bob Hoskins in World War II: When
Lions Roared, 1994; Albert Finney in The
Gathering Storm, 2002; Brendan Gleeson in Into the Storm, 2009; Timothy Spall in The King’s Speech, 2010, and Michael Gambon in Churchill’s Secret, 2016. Coming: Gary Oldman in Darkest Hour, this year.
WINE (Vin Orsonaire de Chateau Welles)
His
script Oscar (Citizen Kane) didn’t
mean much to Welles, nor did any official honors: “I got a letter from Arthur
Schlesinger, who (once) wrote an article in which he talked about me as a
person who inexplicably had a certain
cult following. Now he’s forgotten about that, and wants me to be a member of
the Academy of Arts and Letters. They can’t do better than make me an honorary
one, because there is no category for films. And I am rather tempted to say,
‘Create one or do without me.’ They’re all feebly trying to imitate the Académie Francaise, which is a useless
institution anyway.” (Orson Welles to Henry Jaglom, in My Lunches With Orson.)
ENTRÉE (Starlight Rising)
“The
lethal dispatch of Beaumont (Chris Tucker) in Jackie Brown goes far beyond blaxploitation. In a 2003 interview, Tarantino
told me that ‘there is nothing I love more than when comedy stops in its tracks
to show you a real, serious moment … stops the laughter, makes you hurt. I can
do that.” Such wit helped him forge a vast, viral, fan-boy cult of the
obsessive and committed.” (From the Pam Grier/Jackie Brown chapter of my book Starlight
Rising: Acting Up in Movies, to be found at Amazon, Nook and Kindle.)
DESSERT (An Image)
A great movie image is more than a still,
it’s a distillation.
Muley (John Qualen, left) tries to keep his Dust Bowl farm in The Grapes of Wrath (Warner Bros., 1940; director John Ford, cinematographer Gregg Toland).
Muley (John Qualen, left) tries to keep his Dust Bowl farm in The Grapes of Wrath (Warner Bros., 1940; director John Ford, cinematographer Gregg Toland).
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