Irreviews

I’m not sure how many people realize it, but Vera Farmiga is a cinematic treasure. I would say everything she touches turns to gold, the counter-example of Safe House notwithstanding (film making incompetence on that scale would confound anyone!) She has a unique presence on screen: one-half glamorous old-time movie star, one-half gritty, anonymous character actress. Her performances in Up in the Air, Henry’s Crime, and Source Code are all absolutely outstanding in completely different ways and for completely different reasons. In my mind she is one of the current elite among actresses (along with Jessica Chastain, Charlize Theron, and maybe a few others.) She is entering her prime right now: be sure not to miss anything she does.

After watching Higher Ground, I can now add that she is also very fine director. The performances she gets from all her actors are superb, and her scene flow and construction is lovely. Pacing is a touch slow, but you hardly notice because she captures everything with such genuineness.

Higher Ground is very interesting, lovely and understated film, with a good story and well-written dialog. But even though I really enjoyed the film, I felt a little conflicted about it afterward. It is probably the most realistic portrait of a person struggling with their own faith I have ever seen. This is a bit of a mixed blessing, however. There is something disconcerting about the literalness of the final third of the movie. It shows her position of confusion and vulnerability so honestly that there is little-to-no room for any kind of larger statement on faith itself. In the end, we get the platitude “faith is hard,” the ambiguity of which is completely lost on the film – it could be hard because worthwhile things are hard, or it could be hard because it (faith) developed somewhat in opposition to human freedom, empiricism, and mutual self-determination. This is one way a less realistic film (one that has her run off with the sexy philosopher-mailman, for example) might actually have more to say about the general concepts being considered. In the end I was left with a slightly hollow feeling – the film does not really stimulate debate. It kind of left me hanging a bit, emotionally, and I felt a little let down that the film didn’t have more to say.

My personal quibbles with the film’s message aside, I would highly recommend this film. It is definitely one of the better films of 2011.

Melancholia is stupendously pretentious crap that also happens to be frightfully boring. I found it far from beautiful or interesting or thought-provoking. As a metaphor for depression it strikes me as absurdly heavy-handed (“Depression: you think you’ve beaten it, and then WHAMO!”) As an exploration of our insignificance relative to the cosmos, especially privileged rich people who live on golf courses, don’t work, and devote their lives to trivia, it is even more heavy-handed (and really should have been re-envisioned as a Monty Python skit.) Personally, I think Lars von Trier’s real point is to make a highly self-indulgent statement about how horrible it is to die; except for depressed people, of course, who apparently are all too happy to depart from this vale of tears.

In my review of Another Earth, I pointed out that the “science” in science fiction only matters when you are saddled with a bad script. Here’s a perfect example. The script is terrible, practically nonexistent, and as a result I found myself really irritated about the “science” of the story. How could Melancholia be have been “hiding behind the Sun”? A rogue planet approaching the solar system would be visible for decades! Or, if they mean to suggest that it was in our orbit, just always on the opposite side of the Sun, its gravitational effects would have been observed ages ago, and more importantly what the hell would send it suddenly streaking directly at us? Why wasn’t there enormous upheaval – earthquakes, volcanoes, miles-high tidal waves – when that huge planet (it was the size of freaking Neptune) was so close to the earth? Why would it suddenly turn around and head back toward earth days after passing us by (did Superman push it back?)  When the planet is close to earth, why do all electrical things die … except the golf cart?! See what I mean: when there is no story and no dialog, all kinds of unfortunate things come into your mind.

My principle disappointment with this film is that I feel the preview directly implies that Kiki leaves her husband to have a lesbian affair with Charlotte Gainsbourg, and personally I was really looking forward to that. This movie could have used a steaming girl-on-girl scene between these two. Without it, what do you have? A hour of an excruciatingly boring wedding, an hour of mincing around waiting for the fucking planet to smash into earth, and 15 minutes of watching Charlotte Gainsbourg sob and quiver as she contemplates what it’s gonna feel like to be atomized in a high-speed extraterrestrial collision.

The character development is epically bad. It was over an hour before I realized that Kiefer Sutherland was Charlotte Gainsbourg’s husband, and that the country club (with the 18 hole golf course) that was hosting the wedding was in fact their house! If this seems strange, consider this piece of dialog: When Kiki asks if there is a room for her dad to stay the night, the fellow who seems to be in charge of the establishment replies: “I believe room 8 is available – let me check.” Room 8? Does this sound like someone’s house, given that we’re talking about the owner’s father?

Leave it to Lars von Trier to become the first director in history to get a bad performance out of Kristen Dunst. Jesus, I didn’t even think that was possible, but he somehow managed to take one the most flexible, expressive and emotionally vibrant actresses out there, and turn her into a zombie. Congratulations, Lars. But the joke is that Cannes actually gave her Best Actress! All the great roles she’s played – Elizabethtown, All Good Things, Crazy Beautiful, Mona Lisa Smile – and thanks to those idiots this is what she will be remembered for. Honestly, any actress could have done what little she had to do in Melancholia (mope around expressionless, show her boobs, and ride some guy in a long-distance sex scene in which she inexplicably pumps her arm like she’s jacking up a car.)

One last note – The 10 minutes of opening credits are positively stultifying: interminable still-shots of silly, boring, stupid-looking dioramas, with Wagner blasting over the top, just to let us know that this fucking movie is “serious shit,” man! It’s laughable, really, that this passes for artistry nowadays.

You want to see science fiction as a vehicle to explore the human condition? Netflix  Another Earth. Melancholia has very little to offer.

Like Crazy has finished off Sundance for my wife and I. This film is really just boring junk, if we’re calling a spade a spade. There’s no dialog, so it’s damn near impossible to form an emotional bond with either of these characters, or care about their plight. Watching inarticulate and emotionally stunted young people unable to talk to each other is so dreary and tiresome! And like so many pretentious indie filmmakers these days, these writers are just too damn good to write an actual ending for the movie.

This is one of those films where if you watch the preview, you basically get everything it has to offer. I strongly recommend this course of action.

It’s been 14 years since Whit Stillman made Last Days of Disco, that wretched piece of trash that made a mockery of his two masterpieces: Barcelona and Metropolitan. Damsels in Distress is better than Last Days of Disco, largely because it takes itself less seriously, and does not have Chloe Sevigny or Robert Sean Leonard weighing it down. It also rips off a good bit from Clueless , which helps give the film’s set-up the illusion of structure. But for anyone who loves and appreciates what Stillman was able to accomplish in his first two films, Damsels must seem like solid evidence that he has truly lost it – either his artistic touch, or his sanity.

What’s wrong with Damsels in Distress, compared to his earlier work? I’ll tell you! Barcelona and Metropolitan had stories! They had well-defined characters, they had continuous narrative development, they had a consistent (if unusual) approach to dialog, and they had something to say. These structural pillars supported a unique and amazing humor that was somehow part and parcel of the films’ deeply rewarding statements on the follies of the human condition and its portraits of basic human types. Damsels, on the other hand, has no story, no serious characters or leading characters, no narrative development, no hint or even pretense of realism, and no shred of connection to the real world. It’s a bunch of people saying weird things with bizarre affect. Basically, it’s a complete mess.

I’m not saying I didn’t somewhat enjoy watching this film. It’s so weird it’s kind of refreshing in a way. My wife and I laughed bit (in part because the giddy audience of 90’s Stillman nerds was in a hyperactive frenzy before and during the movie,) but it was the rather tentative laughter that tends to accompany Seinfeld-esque humor, or Tarantino-esque humor: humor constituted entirely of simplistic instances of outrageous juxtaposition, which in my book is only one step above potty humor. This is not necessarily a bad thing (I’m no snob,) but given that the film has literally nothing else to offer, the whole thing does resemble a giant and bizarre cotton candy.

As far as the performances go, everyone except Gretta Gerwig looks completely lost, but I think that’s largely because she is the only one that really has anything to say. Her two sidekicks never command any definite reaction from the audiance, nor do they feature prominantely in what passes for the film’s story. Analeigh Tipton is a big disappointment, clearly not grasping the Stillman gestalt. Adam Brody is his usual wonderful and charismatic self, but he has relatively little to do or say. The exception is Gerwig, who plays her bizarre role unselfconsciously and with great gusto; she is the only reason the film didn’t collapse into a black hole under its own gravity.

When you walk out of Damsels in Distress, the main question in your mind is “How did this thing ever get released?” If you are in the mood for utterly bizarre silliness, give it a try, but don’t expect vintage Whit Stillman. We can only hope and pray that one day he will produce another Barcelona or Metropolitan. My first recommendation to him, should he desire to do this: cast Chris Eigeman and Taylor Nichols in the lead roles, and start writing from there.

My wife and I loved Young Adult. I highly recommend it, even though I am aware it will probably be deeply offensive to large swaths of the American population.

Young Adult was panned, basically for being a depressing portrait of a psychologically screwed-up individual who hurts people and who never changes. I don’t think that captures the movie at all. For starters, I didn’t think Mavis Gary was that psychologically screwed up. I fact, I found myself relating to her rather deeply.

Young Adult captures a certain phenomenon that is very real in our society. When you grow up in small towns, you realize there is a pervasive and endemic stupidity and intolerance toward people who differ from the town norm in any way. This stupidity and intolerance can be subtle or extremely viscous, and it can take many forms – physical, mental, emotional. If you are one of these unfortunate, slightly different people, you either leave and never go back (the Charlize Theron character,) or you stay and have a miserable life (the Patton Oswalt character.) Those people that escape (I speak as one of them) can have in mid-life certain moments of mental weakness and insecurity where a longing takes hold to be connected to the old town or to fit in there. Sometimes this leads to doing stupid things in an attempt to recapture something that was never there (here I also speak from  experience.) Usually it ends in disaster, and you wind up back in the big city, living your life as if that wretched little town didn’t even exist.

Young Adult is about a character who gives in to these feelings and goes back, only to find that she was right to escape in the first place, that there was a really good reason (having little to do with her) that those recently rekindled old dreams didn’t happen back then, that everyone’s intolerant hatred is even worse now because they all hate their lives and wish they were her, and that basically the whole town and everyone in it just sucks. It simultaneously tells the story of the guy who should have escaped by any means possible, but didn’t, and is thus condemned to live a miserable life among narrow-minded morons who can never see him for anything more than he was in high school. The kinship these two despised characters form over the course of the film is, in its own strange way, lovely and moving.

I am so amazed by Charlize Theron as an actress. She is definitely one of the elite right now, along with Jessica Chastain, Vera Farmiga, and maybe one or two others. It is difficult to put into words how deeply brilliant she is in this role; many people will probably be too busy being duly repulsed by her to even see how much nuance she is packing into the performance. It’s easy to understand how the Academy missed this performance: she isn’t wearing a fake nose or doing an accent.

Young Adult is a remarkable film. I very highly recommend it.

So now we have two film versions of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo made within a couple years of each other: a Swedish-language version (Män som hatar kvinnor) and an American version made by David Fincher. The Swedish version is pretty obscure, while the American version is a blockbuster, nominated for major Academy Awards. The big question is: which is better? Most of the people I know think the American version is better by leaps and bounds. I think they are actually more neck-and-neck; perhaps by the end of this review I will be able to declare a winner.

The frustrating thing about comparing these films is that both are maddeningly inconsistent. Each one gets some characters spot-on and completely misses others; each beautifully captures certain parts of the story, while marring or inexplicably omitting other parts. And their mistakes are for the most part complementary – if you take all the good parts of each film and put them together, you might have (in theory) a fantastic movie.

In the category of the all-important set-up, the Swedish version is the clear winner. The initial scene in the Swedish version is a gem of minimalism. Vanger opens the package, sees the flowers, checks the postmark (what a nice detail,) starts to cry prolongedly, and then that haunting portrait of Harriet comes on screen, over which the film title flashes – brilliant! It should be remarked that the emotional quality of this picture of Harriet is so marvelous it boils down Vanger’s lifetime of obsession into a single visual image: you look at it and you are transfixed. The American Harriet, in contrast, is visually unremarkable.

The set-up of the mystery – the initial meeting between Vanger and Blomkvist – is a lot more effective in the Swedish version, and avoids the American version’s clunky melodramatics, and the distractingly busy performance of big star Christopher Plummer. In contrast, the Swedish version is low-key and played very straight. Note how successfully they establish the emotional tone by choosing to start the encounter with Blomkvist being reminded that he knew Harriet from his childhood (in conjunction with another stunningly evocative picture of Harriet, this time with the young Blomkvist.)  This is completely omitted from the American version, and although we may assume it was dismissed as a minor detail, they clearly underrated its dramatic value in set-up dialog of this kind. This is not an isolated occurrence; the dialog throughout the Swedish version is better judged for overall effect. In addition, the way the film footage of the crash on the bridge is done puts the American version to shame, mainly because of the amazing moment where the chilling image of Harriet in the window is inadvertently captured by the newsreel cameraman. One thing you have to give the Swedish filmmakers: they understood how to use visual images for stunning effect.

Although in general the Swedish set-up is better written, and the transmitted information better organized, I must say the American version captures in their set-up some important elements of texture that the Swedish film threw away: that Blomkvist will pretend to be writing Vanger’s biography to hide the murder investigation from all the suspects, the fact that part of Vanger’s offer is a promise to produce dirt on Wennerström, and the general emotional ambivalence of Blomkvist in accepting the offer. It’s just that the Swedish version’s strong points have a lot more emotional impact than do these elements, and therefore easily outweigh them.

The set-up of Lisbeth Salander is harder to call. Certainly the American version is more complete – the Swedish version almost completely skips her job, Armansky, and Palmgren, omissions that clearly rob that film of texture. Salander’s development is so compressed in the Swedish version they eventually have to resort to changing the story to get her and Blomkvist together in a semi-believable way. But in the end, I’m not sure how much their superior completeness bought the American filmmakers. The overall story feels more unified as a result, but I’m not overwhelmed by this because the core of the story (Harriet’s disappearance) tends to completely dominate the narrative anyway – Salander’s job and her feelings about Palmgren are not emotionally central to the first book. When all is said and done the compressed Swedish version, including the re-envisioned unification of Blomkvist and Salander, basically works in a way that is not too distracting.

After the set-ups, the two versions are more even, with each film doing a good job at the elements the other failed on. One might be tempted to say that the American version got the bones of the story better and captured the two main characters better – I certainly walked out of the theater thinking this. But upon reflection I realize it is not completely true. The American version has a superior overall feel, start to finish. It captured the relaxed pacing and preserved the very low-key chain of events (the hiring of Salander, the way the Bible numbers are figured out) from the novel, where the Swedish version did not even try. It also better captures the size and scope of the project Blomkvist has undertaken, and his complex set of emotions about choosing to take the job. It captures Salander’s research in the Vanger archives in a more detailed and interesting way (by the time the Swedish version gets to this point, the film is obviously rushing headlong toward its denouement.) These are huge points in favor of the American version: any time a movie can avoid feeling like a movie it’s a major triumph, and this unrushed atmosphere makes watching the movie pleasing in exactly the same way the novel was so pleasing to read.

But on the other hand, the Swedish version made better use of the medium of film. Its craftsmanship in the portrayal of the parade photo sequence, for example, is simply outstanding – the look on Harriet’s face in the frame where she clearly sees someone across the street could not possibly have been done better, and the sequence of photos is really impressive in its effect. The American version of this sequence falls flat on its face; they managed to make it completely boring! Similarly, the discovery through the photos of the presence of the couple taking pictures of the opposite side of the street is very nicely done in the Swedish version, while it is not even believable in the American version. These are both crucial textural elements of the mystery’s narrative, and the Swedish superiority on these points goes a long way in my book.

It also sets up the whole Anita story-line beautifully, and then pulls off it off really effectively – the American version skips over it entirely. I found the preservation this small plot point very significant in its pleasing impact on the viewer – it’s way more dramatically important than certain things the American version got bogged down in, like the Vanger group’s proposal to buy Millennium. In the end both versions butcher Anita’s connection to the resolution of Harriet’s mystery – I don’t understand why, as it’s perfectly plotted in the novel. Each version kept elements of the real story; it’s a bit of a toss-up. I suppose I would side with the Swedish version because it changed a lot less.

The biggest advantage the American version has (and it’s huge) is that Daniel Craig completely outshines his Swedish counterpart. I don’t even like Daniel Craig as an actor, but I can admit he is marvelous in this movie (I think playing a good, likable, sexy, easy-going guy suits him really well. He should do it more often!) His contribution to the superior overall feeling of the American version is enormous, the direct result of his skill and his charisma.

Lisbeth Salander, however, is a tie. Noomi Rapace is much prettier (under the grunge) and more little-girl-like, more doll-like; these are key physical attributes of Salander. Rooney Mara, on the other hand, looks like an adult skank with a long, sexy body – it works okay, but it does change the feel of the character quite a bit. The writing in the Swedish version captured two very important things about Salander that the American version did not: how insanely tough she is physically, and that she is more than a little crazy and neurotic. When I was reading the books I went back and forth liking Lisbeth and not liking her; a similar thing happens in the Swedish version. In contrast, who wouldn’t like Rooney Mara’s more emotionally complete and sympathetic Salander?! I think the Swedish version somewhat overstates her abrasive attitude toward Blomkvist, but the American version somewhat understates it. It should also be noted that Rooney Mara had better lines to speak, but I felt both she and Rapace gave good (if rather different) performances. Like I said: the character of Salander is a dead heat.

However, the development of the relationship between Salander and Blomkvist is clearly done better in the American version. The relaxed pacing of this version gives them the time to develop their friendship in a very satisfying way; where the Swedish relationship feels a bit forced together, the American one is very sensitive and touching. And again, Daniel Craig’s overwhelmingly superior Blomkvist is of great help in developing this relationship effectively.

When it comes to the two woman-hating psychopaths, they both do a good job but I prefer the Swedish approach. Burjman in the Swedish version is portrayed as a pretty straightforward, misogynistic predator. In the American version he is decidedly more ambiguous. I originally liked what they did with this character in the American version; now I’m not quite as sure. In the book, Bjurman has a total and abiding disdain for Salander. To him she is literally retarded scum, which is why he is so shattered when she turns the tables on him out of nowhere and emerges as his complete master. With this more ambiguous, American Bjurman, some of that is lost. There appears to be a side of this Bjurman that almost likes Salander, and Rooney Mara’s gentler performance tends to emphasize this (again, who wouldn’t go for Rooney Mara?) You can almost (almost) see a small part of him enjoying being Rooney Mara’s slave! This is an interesting twist, but I think it detracts a little from the dramatic tension in Salander’s life – she’s kind of crazy because she is very much a person subjected to extremes. After all, the Bjurman of the novel subsequently dedicates his life to killing Salander. I’m not sure I see the American Bjurman doing this; the Swedish version I can believe it.

The character of Martin Vanger is really tough to call. The American Martin (played with aplomb by Stellan Skarsgård) is almost electrifyingly charming and likable. When he reveals his crazy side, there is a understated, almost jocular resignation to his secret life’s work. I will admit, it is fascinating, and really fun to watch, but it “better”? The Swedish Martin is more of a reserved, stuffed-shirt businessman type. When he reveals his secrets, there is nothing ambiguous about it; indeed his speech at the end about “hope” is brilliantly written and delivered, and extremely effective at transmitting something fundamental about his mental disturbance.  I’m not sure social affability at the level of the American Martin could sit so easily with what he is hiding. Mental disturbance at that level leaves certain marks – the serial killer next door may have always been “polite, gentle, and kind” to you, but at the same time he was never your best friend, was he!? I think the Swedish version of Martin, though gruff and unromantic, was probably more realistic in the end.

The Swedish version made a better decision about handling the very end, the “epilogue” if you will, where Salandar gets Wennerström. In the American version I was completely lost about what the hell Salander was actually doing in Zurich and all I took away from this overly long sequence was total disbelief that she did not get caught. Now, you could argue that the approach of the Swedish version (to gloss over it in about 15 seconds) was inadequate as well, but they did avoid slowing the pace of the film to a crawl.

As if all this is not confusing enough, the Swedish version had an awful score. I don’t remember the American score, so it probably was at least tolerable. On the other hand, the American version featured the most bizarre and disgusting opening credits in the history of cinema.

So, how on earth can we sort out the relative merits of these two films and arrive at a winner? Here’s my attempt. For me, it always boils down to repeat viewing: capturing  dialog, images, scenes, in a way that makes you want to experience them again. It’s the Swedish version that accomplishes this better, from its stunning use of photos and images, to the dialog in the set-up, to the surprising way your attention is drawn to Anita, to Martin’s “hope” speech, to the fabulous look of Salander. The American movie may have been better overall, but it was also flatter – its strong points are not as moving. With the Swedish film, the highs are higher, even if the lows are lower. At the end of the day, I know I will watch the Swedish film again, just to experience its remarkable high-points. I am much less sure I will feel the need to see the American version, as solid as it is.

In the middle of My Week With Marilyn, my wife leans over to me and says “you know what the problem with this movie is? The kid! He’s like some kind of weird eunuch! He has no chemistry with either Emma Watson or Michelle Williams, and they are both really sexy actresses!”

I couldn’t have said it better. The only thing I would add is that the scenes of the cast shooting The Prince and the Showgirl are really boring, meaning that the two central narratives are busts. Add on top of this that Marilyn Monroe comes across (accurately or not) as a highly irritating, dimwitted twit, and that Michelle Williams fails to capture anything resembling “magic” about her, and it all adds up to one really crappy film!

I finally liked Ewan Mcgregor in a movie! He is such a weirdo in all his roles, but here he gets to do his strange, flat-affect thing and also be kind of sexy and smile a bit. He and Emily Blunt have a nice chemistry, and the love story between the two is well written, unrushed, and develops pretty naturally. It forms a satisfying base for a diverting and up-beat little film.

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen may be light, “sugar-coated” fun, but it is well-made sugar-coated fun! The writing is pretty tight and entertaining, and the performances are strong across the board. Especially wonderful is the magnificent Kristen Scott Thomas, who takes what could have been a painful character (the wise-cracking communications director for the prime minister) and through her comic skill and charisma makes the character both funny and likable.

The film is not without its problems – the whole “faith” thing is a bit heavy-handed (more than a bit, actually) and the assassination subplot felt forced – but the main story lines are developed well enough that these problems don’t interfere with your enjoyment of the story. Strong leads and well-written dialog hold the film together, and the end result is very pleasing. I recommend it.

The Hunger Games: They managed to take a book that is written so beautifully I’m sure I will want to re-read it over and over in the coming years, and make from it a movie that I never need to watch again. This movie was not made for the purpose of creating cinematic art from literary art. It was crafted for the specific purpose of creating a Twilight-style extended marketing event aimed at teen and pre-teen girls, and to turn Jennifer Lawrence into an abstract, airbrushed idol, just like they did with Kristen Stewart. From my point of view, this is extremely sad.

One might be tempted to describe The Hunger Games as a “barely adequate” rendition of the novel, recognizing that they do preserve the bones of the story, but really this is just being kind. There is something very mechanical and joyless about the transmition of this story to screen. The dialog is pitiful, and their solution to the first-person present-tense narrative of the novel feels clunky and unoriginal, and only seeks to explain things that could have easily been built into the dialog (for example, the tracker-jaggers could have been explained in dialog between Katniss and Rue – it would have been much more effective, if done right.) The training scenes were boring and badly done. The film’s special effects and costuming are exceedingly lame, especially the “dogs” at the end, and the flaming costumes in the parade, which were, in retrospect, laughably inadequate.

The only casting decisions I liked were Jennifer Lawrence and Woody Harrelson, and the latter’s was the only performance I liked. Stanley Tucci was disastrous. All the kids looked and sounded like extras from Gossip Girl. Even Peeta, who I didn’t mind while watching the film, afterward struck me as kind of colorless and cardboard, not at all like the Peeta in the novel; I didn’t even believe he was in love with Katniss, that’s how messed up that character was!

But the main issue here is that they ruined a deeply emotional story by walking away from the challenge of writing dialog, and by completely squandering the 3 most powerfully cinematic moments in the novel. The most inexcusable is the omission of the relationship between Katniss and Rue. It’s the most beautiful part of the book, and the most emotionally important, and the most interesting. In the film they skip right over it like it’s worthless filler. (They couldn’t even get the casting right: Rue is supposed to look like Prim, and she is supposed to be a scared, somewhat old-fashioned child, not a confident modern one.) This where the anticipation and dread about what is going to happen in the games reaches its peak. This is where Katniss’ deep feelings about her horrible situation and about her sister come to the surface, as Rue slips into Prim’s place out of fear. This is where the larger social situation in the country is humanized, as the two discuss their lives in their respective districts. This is where you learn from Rue how Peeta saved Katniss after the tracker-jagger attack, and what happened to him, which significantly complicates Katniss’ emotional state. And most importantly, this is where you come to love Rue, as Katniss does, without with her subsequent death loses all its emotional impact.

This was the moment for dialog, and a lot of it was already written for them: consider if you will this small piece of dialog between the two, after they have agreed to form an alliance – I’m just quoting this off the top of my head from one reading of the book a few months ago. It goes something like this, Rue talking about the allied gang of trained killers from the privileged districts, known as “Careers”:

Rue: They are so strong.

Katniss: We’re strong too.

Rue: You are, you can shoot.

Katniss: You can feed yourself, can they?

Rue: They don’t need to, they have all that food down at the Cornucopia.

Katniss: But what if they didn’t? What if they were hungry – how long would they last out here?

Rue: But Katniss, they’re not hungry.

Katniss: Yes, and we have to do something about that, Rue.

I would argue that this is better than any dialog they wrote for the movie, and it was sitting there for the taking – all they had to do was cut and paste! Think about everything you get from this simple passage: It heightens the drama of food acquisition in the games; you appreciate Rue more by hearing Katniss appreciate her, which in turn makes you appreciate the weak, oppressed people of the outer districts more; you get to thrill to Katniss’ transition from defense to offense; you get to see the bond between Rue and Katniss deepen further, which deepens the overriding sadness that eventually their alliance must end in death; and on the most basic level, you actually know what Katniss is intending to do down at their base-camp, and why it is so critical that she succeed, which in turn makes that future scene much more dramatic. All this from a 30 second exchange; basically, the filmmakers took genius-level scripting right in the novel, tossed it out, and replaced it with a big fat nothing.

They also blow the most dramatically powerful moment in the book: the death of Rue. They ignore stunning moments of dialog, pre-written for them, like Katniss with tears pouring down her face sobbing “Rue, I going to win, I’m going to win for us! I promise!” as Rue lies there dying with a spear stuck straight through her.  Good God, I can’t even write it without tearing up, but apparently these filmmakers felt it was more dramatically effective to have Rue say rather causally on her death-bed “Katniss, try to win, okay?” and to have Jennifer Lawrence curtly mumble “yeah” in response and leave it at that.  Are they fucking idiots?

They also skip the incredible moment when the the humble sponsor gift of warm bread arrives shortly after Rue’s death, bought by the dirt-poor people of Rue’s district at astronomical expense, and which they decide to send anyway, to Katniss, in thanks for her loving friendship with Rue. It’s so powerful and so beautiful! Are these filmmakers emotionally retarded? Can’t they see how much better this captures the devastating sadness of Rue’s death? Or how much better this conveys the nascent feelings of rebelliousness in Rue’s district then the boring District 11 “revolt scene” they made up for the movie?

Oh, and I should add that it’s very important in the book that Katniss slays Rue’s killer (shooting him through the neck like a total bad-ass) after she sees Rue stabbed-through right in front of her. She is too late reaching Rue, but she avenges Rue. By changing this to having the two die simultaneously, they lay the groundwork to ruin the third most dramatically chilling moment in the story: when Thresh spares Katniss in the heat of battle, after overhearing that Katniss had formed an alliance with his tiny District 11 compatriot, and subsequently being told (convincingly) by Katniss that she had avenged Rue’s death and honored her by decorating the body with flowers. Only then does Thresh spare her, in a moment of exquisite compassion that implicitly and beautifully connects Thresh and Katniss by virtue of the deepest elements of their shared humanity. Now, I ask you: how is this inferior to having Thresh spare her for no reason at all, as they chose to do in this film?

By destroying all these lovely and crucial elements of the story, and also by dumbing-down and sterilizing the relationship between Peeta and Katniss (the details of which I’m going to spare you,) they basically surrender all the emotional depth of the story. The question is: why did they do it? Answer: to make the movie go down better. They’re creating a marketing brand. You can’t have people sobbing and leaving the theater emotionally shell-shocked, pondering their own mortality! They just don’t go together.

The way they handeled the “epilogue,” after the games are over is proof positive of this. Although they technically follow the story, they completely relinquish its dramatic tension and start to let it coast, “Twilight-style,” toward a launch-point for the next film. But in the book, the dramatic tension goes through the roof after the games end, and the emotional state of Katniss becomes even more complicated, leading to other fantastically cinematic scenes, like when she (against every inclination in her being) leaps into Peeta’s arms when they are finally reunited, in desperation to sell the fallacious idea that her actions in the finale were prompted by love of Peeta rather than hatred for the government. It’s so shocking in the book when she emerges from the games in greater danger than ever! All that is out the window here – the filmmakers were out of time, they had to wrap the damn movie up in a way that makes people want the next movie (cue lame-ass scenes of Donald Sutherland looking ominously at Katniss, the stupid, Godfather-style “bowl of berries,” omit the depressing fact that Peeta loses his leg, and so on.)

Just a final word on Jennifer Lawrence: physically she is the perfect Katniss, but I found her acting in this movie to be more than a bit flat. In the novel, Katniss has a lot more depth and emotional nuance; here, Lawrence plays her as a grim, determined little machine, although a good part of this is the script and direction, certainly. Of course Katniss is determined, but that loses all its potency if you ignore everything else about her. For me, no subtlety came through in the character – I felt strangely little emotion for Katniss during this film, so obviously something went catastrophically wrong somewhere along the line!