eyes wide shut Tagged Articles at Cinematical

In a world of cinematic double-dipping, studio interference, hard-to-reign-in directors, and a mania for deleted scenes and more-more-more footage, "director's cuts" have become common place. Rarely is it any big deal when a new cut is released -- there's often more footage to share, package, and sell off to fans.

Sometimes things slip through the cracks. The rediscovered footage of Metropolis -- or Clive Barker's Nightbreed for example -- they reveal a world where film clips disappear, only to be found years later, to our delight. And then there's other footage that should never see the light of day, the stuff that should slip into a vortex forever, like Richard Kelly's director's cut of Donnie Darko. But what about the cuts we haven't seen, but are definitely out there?

How about this wild-eyed and enthusiastic photo of pretty much the most intelligent film critic in America? Unfortunately, Jonathan Rosenbaum has served notice that he's leaving his staff position at the Chicago Reader after 20 years, in favor of more occasional appearances in print and on the Internet, and the chance to write about other matters besides movies. It's a good time to retire; cinema, once the bravest of the popular arts, is now too often just a part of the entertainment bandwidth, sampling itself relentlessly, following trends like it used to set them.

The 65-year-old critic has been a long-time champion of foreign film, particularly when they're handled poorly by distributors, shelved or re-cut (as Miramax did so many times during the 1990s). His book Movie Wars is essential reading about how studios lead the critics and mislead the public; as he puts it in his 2007 top ten list, the problem is that "each film is supposed to be important when it comes out and is then forgotten soon afterwards." The books Placing Movies and Movies as Politics are two excellent introductions to Rosenbaum's well-informed polemics.

He is, perhaps, at his best when doing a minority report; his essay on Eyes Wide Shut, reprinted in Philip Lopate's collection American Movie Critics, needs to be read by anyone who feels Kubrick's last film is a neglected masterpiece. Rosenbaum dared to fight a lot of the accepted wisdom of his day, such as the suggestion that Woody Allen was better than Jerry Lewis or that Clint Eastwood's Bird is a masterpiece. An exit interview is visible on YouTube, with Rosenbaum describing his plans for the future, elevating the reputation of Ishtar and cutting There Will Be Blood down to size. It's the critic in me that makes me say that this two-part YouTube video goes on for a couple of minutes too long. ...

Last week in my Indies on DVD post, I mentioned a new Stanley Kubrick box set (from Warner Home Video) and Criterion's release of Terence Malick's Days of Heaven. Both releases had raised pre-release questions. Jeffrey Wells at Hollywood Elsewhere sounded the alarm back in August that Criterion's upcoming re-issue of the Days of Heaven on DVD would look "really different" than the previous version from Paramount Home Video. He based his concerns on comments by Criterion's Lee Kline. Now that Wells has seen the new DVD, he writes: "I saw Days of Heaven in 70 mm on the day it opened -- 9.13.78 -- at the Cinema 1 on Third Avenue, and the Criterion DVD took me right back to that transporting experience. This is how it looked back then, and should have always looked. " Good to hear.

The Kubrick set raised eyebrows when it was announced that three of the films (The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, Eyes Wide Shut) would be presented in a different home video format than Kubrick had insisted upon when he was alive. Film critic Dave Kehr noted: "Kubrick apparently had his reasons, as mysterious as they may be, for releasing them to video the way he did." The new, reformatted aspect ratio, Kehr says, "would be closer to the way the films were originally seen in theaters." Kehr then quotes a statement from Jan Harlan (the present keeper of the Kubrick estate) and questions the historical sense of Harlan's statement before concluding: "I'm really not well informed enough to have a solid opinion. And without Kubrick around to consult, I don't see how we'll ever know for sure." He recommends hanging onto the older DVD versions as reference points, if nothing else. So if you've been waiting for the definitive edition of these films (others in the set are 2001: A Space Odyssey and A Clockwork Orange, in addition to the doc A Life in Pictures), you'll need to weigh out the positive and not so positive.

The Shining (1980) marks an interesting spot in Stanley Kubrick's filmography, one that hardly anyone ever mentions. Most Kubrick films are not appreciated in their own time, but while Barry Lyndon (1975) and Full Metal Jacket (1987) are beginning to enjoy a newfound critical reputation, The Shining -- stuck right between them -- is generally left out of the discussion. Despite mixed reviews (recommendations from Andrew Sarris and the New York Times, but pans from Pauline Kael, Stanley Kaufmann, Dave Kehr and Variety), it was a hit film, grossing $44 million on a $19 million budget (according to boxofficemojo.com). It was based on a young, successful horror writer's third novel, and thus it hardly warranted serious consideration. Only David Thomson, in his "Biographical Dictionary of Film," gives the film a once-over; in an otherwise negative essay about Kubrick, he calls The Shining Kubrick's "one great film," but he also calls it "very funny."

At the same time, horror fanatics find the film extraordinary; and by all counts, they're right. Here was a horror entry from a first-class filmmaker who had succeeded in escaping the "horror" classification. Our other masters -- Bava, Romero, Carpenter, Hooper, Craven, etc. -- started in horror and got stuck there, unable to express their artistry in any other medium, and unable to earn the acclaim of someone like Kubrick. He visited, left unscathed and left behind something truly exceptional. But where do these two sides meet? What did Kubrick bring to horror and what did horror bring to Kubrick?

I was at a dinner party recently, and the conversation turned to movies. Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut (1999) came up, accompanied by the usual groans of disapproval and boredom. I felt obligated to say what I usually say in such situations, to say something that results in shock and disbelief: that Eyes Wide Shut is the best movie I've seen since I have been a professional movie critic.

The initial responses to Eyes Wide Shut revolved around the following: 1) The MPAA, their threat of an NC-17 rating and Warner Bros' decision to alter the offending scene by censoring it with "digital figures." 2) Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman's marriage and how it was affected by the filming. 3) Kubrick's death in March of 1999 and whether or not the released film was as he intended. 4) The fact that the film was set, but not shot in New York City and didn't look at all like the real thing; that Kubrick was an exile who hadn't actually been to New York for more than three decades. There were other rumors, and specific complaints about certain scenes that colored nearly everyone's opinion, but none of these had anything to do with the movie itself, as it actually exists.

Wowwy wow wow. I knew there were some new Stanley Kubrick special editions on the way, but I had no idea that Warner was going all out with new features! I don't even know where to begin! (OK, breathe.) According to DVDActive.com, five of the master's films will be hitting the shelves as part of a massive box set. Those films are The Shining, A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket, 2001: A Space Odyssey and Eyes Wide Shut. All of 'em 2-disc widescreen treat-laden Special Editions! (And yes the DVDs will also be available outside of the box set.)

Each of the 2-disc sets come with documentaries / featurettes both old and new, but what I find most exciting are the all-new audio commentaries. (Yes, I'm a commentary nerd. No apologies.) The new chat-tracks break down like so: On 2001 we get actors Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood; on Clockwork it's the awesome Malcolm McDowell and film historian Nick Redman; on Eyes Wide Shut we'll hear from actor/director Sydney Pollack and professor Peter J. Loewenberg; The Shining delivers Steadicam creator Garrett Brown and Kubrick biographer John Baxter; and (this should be great) on Full Metal Jacket the participants will be actors Adam Baldwin, R. Lee Ermey, Vincent D'Onofrio and film critic-turned-screenwriter Jay Cocks. (What, Matthew Modine was too busy?)

And again I'll reiterate an important factor: All of these DVDs (which have been approved by Mr. Kubrick's estate) will come in digitally remastered widescreen. (The old-school Kubrickians know what I'm talking about.)

The discs will hit the stores on October 23, and if you're not satisfied by these five offerings, you can also pick up the new-but-movie-only releases of Kubrick's Barry Lyndon and Lolita. And just to quell any confusion, I'll remind you that Dr. Strangelove and Paths of Glory are Sony properties, whereas Spartacus is a Universal title. That's why they're not included here. But hats off to Warner Bros. for this inevitably awesome box set!

Chemistry -- you can be the best filmmaker, writer or actor, but nothing makes up for a lack of that intangible connection between two people. This is probably why so many actors can't keep up long relationships -- they continually get paired up with people they have great chemistry with and are weakened by temptation over and over until they can't help but break the ties that bind and go libidinously nuts. Oh, the devilish temptation! But on the flip-side, there are pairings that are just plain crappy -- painfully free of that interest and attraction that comes from the eyes. The CBC has reported that British cinema advertisers Pearl and Dean recently conducted a survey asking 3,000 movie-goers which duos have the worst on-screen chemistry, and came up with a list of the 10 worst offenders.

The top spots are no big surprise, really -- the 5th went to Catherine Zeta Jones and Sean Connery in Entrapment, the 4th to Madonna and Adriano Giannini in Swept Away, Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom got the third spot with the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy, the runners up were the rockin' Bennifer pair for Gigli and the top spot went to Natalie Portman and Hayden Christensen with Episode II: Attack of the Clones. I'd say they're pretty spot on, although my top offender are the two that hold that third spot, and I'm glad I'm not the only one that thinks so. Granted, Johnny Depp can whip up some chemistry with almost anyone, which makes it hard to compete, but man, I hated Knightley and Bloom together. This also made many parts of the final film truly annoying, if you get my drift. Also, you've got to question your real-life couple choices when you can't cook up chemistry at work, with your significant other.

Finishing the list, there's Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell in the 6-spot with Four Weddings and a Funeral, Ben Affleck appeared again at 7 with Kate Beckinsale for Pearl Harbor, Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman got 8 with Eyes Wide Shut, Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal followed with Brokeback Mountain and Titanic got the final, 10th spot, with stars Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio. Who would you pick?

I just caught Philip Gröning's extraordinary documentary Into Great Silence (2 screens and opening wider), about Carthusian monks living in a charterhouse in the French Alps. It runs just past two hours and 45 minutes and I would wager that no more than two hundred words are spoken throughout. The film merely shows the monks going about their daily business: praying, chanting, caring for gardens, shoveling snow, sawing firewood, cooking, eating, etc. I have to admit part of my enthusiasm for the film stems from the fact that it contains no talking heads or clips; I was just about ready to scream if I saw one more documentary shot in that tired old PBS format. But I was also drawn to the film's meditative rhythm.

Or is it just slow? Already some of the reviews have trudged out the word "boring" to describe the film, and certainly it's a hard sell. But why? It's apparent that Gröning doesn't have any particular viewpoint about the monks; he's not trying to sell us on their dignity or righteousness, nor is he trying to uncover some secret, seamy underbelly. He merely wishes to show them to us. And in his great, quiet stretches, a viewer can easily get lost in his or her own thoughts. Indeed, I believe that Gröning actually prefers us to get lost in our own thoughts.

I like Christmas movies as much as the next guy, but when they're bad, they're really bad, as in Christmas with the Kranks or Deck the Halls. Most times I prefer a different kind of experience. Sometimes a movie simply set during the holiday season can weave Christmas into its storyline without making an overt holiday statement, and these can evoke a warmth and nostalgia -- or sometimes the opposite -- of their own.

1. The Shop Around the Corner (1940, Ernst Lubitsch)
Lubitsch rarely balanced comedy and pathos so beautifully as in this movie about a busy Hungarian department store during the month before Christmas. Hardly anyone mentions the holiday until the final scenes, but the hope and despair that the season can bring hovers everywhere. Jimmy Stewart plays a clerk having an anonymous pen-pal love affair with a girl (Margaret Sullavan) -- who happens to be working right next to him in the shop, unbeknownst to either of them. The entire cast is remarkable, from Frank Morgan as the shop's owner to William Tracy as the delivery boy. Unhappily, Nora Ephron remade this in 1998 as You've Got Mail.

Iconic film director Stanley Kubrick apparently considered R. Lee Ermey his own personal Linda Tripp, confiding in him by phone shortly before his death that Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman "had their way with him" and ruined Eyes Wide Shut. Ermey starred as the sargeant from hell in Kubrick's classic Full Metal Jacket (and can currently be seen as the uncle from hell in Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning), and the two kept in close contact until Kubrick died in 1999. Kubrick went on to tell Ermey that the was film a piece of sh*t, and figured the critics would eat him alive. Which they did.

That brings to mind a famous quote by Kubrick. He was watching Jerry Lewis edit a film, and Lewis was increasingly dissatisfied with the cut. He turned to Kubrick and said, "Well, I guess you can't polish a turd." Kubrick carefully thought about it and said, "You can if you freeze it."