mellow submarine

Submarine is a gorgeously shot if emotionally distant coming-of-age tale in the tradition of Wes Anderson’s Rushmore and Bill Forsyth’s 1981 film Gregory’s Girl. It centers upon Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts), an awkward, idiosyncratic 15 year-old living in Wales with his father Lloyd—a withdrawn marine biologist (Noah Taylor) and mother Jill—a demure office-worker (Sally Hawkins). Oliver falls hard for feisty classmate Jordana (Yasmin Paige) who is much more seasoned than her peers, stricken with eczema and somewhat of an outcast. Oliver and Jordana quickly fall in love. Meanwhile Oliver worries about his mother’s redeveloping feelings for their new neighbor and Jill’s old flame Graham (Paddy Considine), a sleazy mystic with a mullet. As things become more emotionally involved, Oliver intentionally attempts to sabotage Jill’s relationship with Graham, while unintentionally sabotaging his own with Jordana.

The strengths of Submarine lie in its visual style. Even though this is television director Richard Ayoade’s debut, the film has a brazen, accomplished aesthetic quality. The atmosphere of Wales is richly portrayed in the sounds of crashing waves and the foggy, seaside setting. Ironically Submarine employs a visual and symbolic technique that is important to Graham’s mantra: using color as a means of seeing and understanding others. Jordana is passionate red in her heart-shaped glasses and coat that recalls Christina Ricci’s Little Red Riding Hood poncho in Ang Lee’s The Ice Storm. Oliver is a cool, lovesick blue (in his dolphin print sheets and Harold & Maude-esque navy toggle coat). Oliver humorously notes that if his father was a color “it would be ochre or eggshell.” In the spirit of autumnal-styled films of the 70s, cinematographer Erik Wilson creates a moody, beautiful look. I kept getting the chilly retro vibes of The Ice Storm and Love Story. Ayoade notes, “Nestor Almendros … was the main influence in that he doesn’t really light. It’s natural light, often shooting at dawn or dusk and just trying to be simple with it; not being fancy, not having lots of big film lights… We were in Wales and it was autumn and it was freezing cold so there was a very specific kind of watery, thin light.” Even though the visuals are distinctly vintage, Submarine doesn’t really seem to take place in a particular era. Memorable hairstyles are on parade: Oliver’s Harold-ish fringe, Jordana’s boxy black hair and bangs, the bushy mane of bullied Abby Smuts, Graham’s mullet, and primly-cut Jill who longs for her lengthy Denueve locks of yesteryear. In tradition of Wes Anderson, the costumes by Charlotte Walter are not only notable for their use of color and pointedness about character but also their distinctiveness (the characters rarely change out of them). The production design is also well-honed, knowing and eclectic—from the bubbling aquarium in the Tate household to Oliver’s classroom adorned with photos of dead writers. In perfect harmony with Oliver’s grandiose opinion of himself, he is introduced in the same profile position as a picture of Shakespeare above him. Even while referencing mix tapes, Crocodile Dundee and school discos, the film pays homage to a certain kind of Paper Chase, prep school timelessness: the film’s look could be 1986 or Urban Outfitters 2011. Oliver’s loving rush of Super 8s of Jordana frolicking along the beach reminded me of purposely blurry and dark snapshots of Brooklyn hipster friends on Facebook. Something that is endearing and lovely but also somewhat cloying. The editing too by Nick Fenton and Academy Award winner (for Slumdog Millionaire) Chris Dickens is quite snappy and sophisticated. The opening sequences in particular are enjoyably and humorously edited with freeze frames in the same manner of Alexander Payne’s Election.

The music too is a highlight. Andrew Hewitt’s original score is quite rich. Instead of folksy doo-dee-doo with a dash of xylophone—a kind of whimsical score frequently used in quirky indie comedies of late like Juno, Hewitt uses lush orchestrations. Jordana’s musical cue, full of pipe organs, is both gothic and romantic. The dense visuals and the loftiness of the score did help move the film along even if the story at times felt thin. The original songs by Arctic Monkeys front man Alex Turner are tender, fitting and a bit Nick Drake-esque. The closing credits are accompanied by “Piledriver Waltz,” an appropriately woozy (it changes time signatures from standard to ¾ waltz mode) love song that reflects the unsteadiness of Oliver’s character and emotions.

Coming-of-age tales are often stymied by an insistence of being too within the young character’s frame of mind (for example, the creakily presented plot twist in an otherwise perfect An Education). It becomes even more difficult to connect when a film is less concerned with realism and more with style. Because Submarine is so wonderfully detailed and the actors are so good and well-cast, it’s a letdown that Submarine’s script is so thin. The forlorn, distant bearded father and the aquatic themes kept reminding me of Noah Baumbach’s The Squid & the Whale, which seemed to me a more expansive and moving portrait of a brittle family, going in and out of various points of view. Submarine admirably but unavailingly remains within the confines of young Oliver’s emotionally limited psyche. He is unable, for example, to empathize with the sickness of Jordana’s mother. Feeling left out, he goes to great and unbelievably caustic lengths (attempts to poison her dog for example), to win back Jordana’s affection and attention. It’s in this second half where Oliver’s unconvincing antics become tiresome. Graham’s sleazy psychic character (a la Patrick Swayze’s motivational speaker in Donnie Darko) remains quite cardboard by the story’s end—disappointing since Paddy Considine’s performance calls for something much more layered. It’s difficult to believe Jill’s attraction towards him when Graham is such a caricature. Abby Smuts piqued my interest as a potentially compelling character, especially because she’s so vividly introduced (in freeze frame, seconds before falling into water—one of the most memorable shots of the picture), but the film—and Oliver—quickly dispose of her. Also, sudden bursts of rapid fire dialogue delivered by pale young men in a flat key has become such a cliché of teen angst tales (and television commercials) that it often took me out of the picture.

Even if the film often favors montages and precocious Oliver voice-overs over intimate scenes, there is enough comedy, nuanced performances, and much to admire about Ayoade’s inventive direction to fill Oliver’s emotional void.

-Jeffery Berg

the ice storm

Ang Lee's drama centers on two families in 1973 Connecticut suburbia. Ben Hood (Kevin Kline) is the father of bitter teen Wendy (Christina Ricci) and awkward prep schooler Paul (Tobey Maguire). Ben is cheating on his wife Elena (Joan Allen) with the droll and sultry next door neighbor Janey Carver (Sigourney Weaver). Janey and her husband George are distant from each other and from their two sons introspective Mikey (Elijah Wood) and gawky Sandy (Adam Hann-Byrd).

Released in 1997, a year before the Lewinsky scandal would shake up American ideas of morality and infidelity, and on the heels of the warm and supple Sense and Sensibility, the dark, acidic Ice Storm was regarded as an oddity. It was shut out at the Oscars for a sweeping disaster picture that audiences identified much more with. In subsequent years, The Ice Storm has gathered much more acclaim and was recently entered in the exclusive Criterion library. Looking back on it today and keeping in mind Lee's other great, near-flawless efforts (Crouching Tiger and Brokeback Mountain among them), his versatility with subject matter and tone is rather astonishing. The Ice Storm vividly re-creates an era on the edge of Nixon's resignation. There are some light touches in the self-awareness of the material. The early 1970s remains one of the most awkward eras in the American twentieth century. Some call the 1960s sexual revolution finally filtering into the suburbs a "trickle down effect." A student in Taiwan in the early 70s, Lee gives the film the feel of an outsider's point of view. Unlike the novel, the movie is less wrapped up in nostalgia or self-awareness. Before filming, Lee gave his cast cutouts of the time period. Unlike other films portraying the 70s, the film isn't bright and kitschy. The soft, moody lighting and the wry but straightforward performances make it a gloomy affair. There is also a cold distance to it (Lee is sometimes criticized for this, I think it only heightens the drama of his films even more).

The offbeat and vastly underrated score by Mychael Danna has a surprisingly ancient feel. Sparse and percussive, it would later influence other suburban dramas such as Thomas Newman's scoring of American Beauty. Danna has remarked that he "liked the irony of suggesting music endemic to Native Americans, to remind us that as the characters walk through the woods to their mod houses, the ground beneath their feet used to belong to civilizations that are long gone. Ang and I wanted to remind people of the power of Nature—that Nature was there before anyone else, and that Nature will be there when we’ve gone.”

With fondness for the era, costume designer Carol Oditz searched for a "visual grace," wanting to create "a surface tension, that was right for the characters in the story." There's a tenderness and awkwardness to the clothing and a slight cartoonishness (the the film begins with Tobey Maguire shifting through a comic book). But none of it goes into farce. Joan Allen's long dress looks particularly taxing on an icy driveway; Christina dons a poncho Red Riding hood coat; professionals lined up at the train stop decked out in khaki trenches. The garishness of costumes and the lack of morality is on full display in the drunken "key party" climax where the suburbanites swap carkeys (to their behemoth vehicles) and sexual partners.

There are many references: toe socks, Nixon masks, dated pop tunes (including a school band version of "The Morning After" appropriate for a film like this, since it is, in some regard, a disaster picture) are put to good use. All of this is tempered a bit by the performances of a fabulous cast. As one of the ineffectual parents, the usually broad, Shakespearean actor Kevin Kline delivers a quiet performance that ranges from comic to intensely somber. The usually wonderful Joan Allen delivers another bravura turn. In a winning moment, she mimics her daughter by riding a bike and then, unsuccessfully trying to steal lipstick from a drugstore. And Sigourney Weaver, who is often flat, is given a really wonderful role here. A bitter, relentlessly serious wannabe vixen, she goes through much of the film without a flicker of happiness. Her ridiculous waterbed (her husband hates it) captures her susceptibility to trends and her own marital and emotional unease. Her bored, cutting reaction ("I have a husband. I don't have a need for another one.") to a blabbering Kline is particularly priceless. And the younger cast members, notably Maguire and Ricci, are well-suited to their roles.

The production design was based on Cubism (a la ice cubes). The cold modern houses (though the Hood's is a touch warmer in tone) of the two families are deep in the woods, unlike the stately Colonial homes in Moody's novel. In concurrence with the image of ice, the visuals are full of glass and geometry (in the clothes, the furnishings, the wall art). Filmed in spring, the "ice" itself was sculpted and cast in resin--trees dipped in silicone, hair gel on windows. It still looks beautiful, haunting and real in an era of CGI. The effectiveness of the effects lends to the emotional wallop of the film's final tragedy: the death of a child on ice.

-Jeffery Berg

snowy day movies

There's a blizzard in New York. It got me thinking about my favorite movies to stay in and watch during a snowstorm. What are yours?

Love Story - Ali MacGraw and Ryan O'Neal frolicking in snowy Central Park. Cool clothes.

The Shining & Misery - These Stephen King chillers tap into snowed-in claustrophobia.

Frozen River - The cold setting of upstate New York becomes its own character in this study of a desperate woman and a Native American who dangerously engage in smuggling people across a frozen river.

Doctor Zhivago - David Lean's epic always seems better when it's snowing outside.

The Ice Storm - Ang Lee's beautiful filming of adultery and other bad behavior in 1973 suburbia.

Citizen Kane - Arresting photography and cinema's most renowned sled and snow globe.

The Cider House Rules - Sentimental, glossy version of John Irving's sprawling novel. There's something very comforting about the Maine settings. And the score is pretty.

Snow Falling on Cedars - I find this film very underrated. A murder mystery unravels in the post-War anti-Japanese environment of Washington state . The cinematography is incredible.

happy thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving.