The Monuments Men

Dear Jina Jay, Casting,

Let’s start with the good news: you did your part. At least, I think you did your part. After all, it’s hard to tell if The Monuments Men was cast by you, or if it was a case of director, co-producer, and co-writer George Clooney simply choosing which buddies he wanted to hang out with for a few months. That may sound cynical, but I don’t mean it as a negative—the company he chooses to keep is full of actors I’m more than willing to spend a couple hours with. It’s just that, after all is said and done, his choice of good-time pals was the most amount of thought he put into the film.

It’s not fun for me to think like this. I really wanted to like The Monuments Men. After more than a decade of verité-obsessed World War II films that took their mark (and stole their style) from Saving Private Ryan, The Monuments Men’s retro style is pretty refreshing. And when Alexander Desplat’s score kicked the film off with a march reminiscent of Elmer Bernstein’s music for The Great Escape, I felt like I was returning to those simpler times when a war picture could be a grand adventure and not a test of my humanity. Sure, we might lose a few men along the way, but in the end it will all have been for a greater good. And that’s what really counts, right?

Heading up this escapade is Clooney’s character, Frank Stokes, who assembles a team of historians and artists to track down priceless works of art stolen by the Nazis, save them from destruction, and return them to their rightful owners. Matt Damon, Bill Murray, John Goodman, Bob Balaban, and Jean Dujardin all play members of the titular team. Like I said, those are all likeable actors, and each of them brings an easy-going charm to their roles. Cate Blanchett is solid, too, as a museum worker and French resistance fighter dedicated to keeping track of the stolen pieces that pass through her museum. 

Clooney and co-writer Grant Heslov worked from the book by Robert M. Edsel and Ben Witter,  and certainly want to structure The Monuments Men as a thrilling ride through war-torn Europe. They go out of their way to give Stokes a personal motivation for saving at least one specific piece of art, and then, on top of that, create two separate races against time: one involving Hitler’s order to destroy all stolen art before the allies can reclaim it, another involving the Russian Army claiming all found art as a restitution for their terrible losses. But these elements are introduced, forgotten, and then reintroduced only when the film needs to remind itself that something is supposed to be at stake. And with the exception of Blanchett, everyone member of the Monuments Men is so relaxed, so seemingly unaffected by their predicament, the threat never feels real. The cumulative effect of so much charm is that whenever events take turn for the serious, it feels too casual to be dramatic. It’s too bad, because Murray, playing architect Richard Campbell, has an especially nice scene involving a recorded Christmas message from his daughter. If only there was a better-constructed film around it to help it ring truer.

I wonder what it’s like for someone in your position to see a finished film like The Monuments Men. On paper, it should work. I wanted it to work. It’s hard to find so much fault with a film that means so well. You did what George asked of you—it’s just too bad George didn’t live up to his part of the bargain.

Wishing it was some other way,

Casey

Status: Standard Delivery (2.5/5)

Elysium

 

Dear Syd Mead, Set Designer,

I’ll admit that your association with Elysium – and director Neill Blomkamp – struck me as odd, at first. You’re known for creating much more polished visions of the future for directors like Ridley Scott, Steven Spielberg and James Cameron. After seeing Blomkamp’s debut feature, District 9, his South African aesthetic seemed to favour a more down-and-dirty approach. That’s hardly in line with the devices you designed for Blade Runner, Minority Report, and Aliens. But after actually watching Elysium, it all made sense.

Your job was not to meld your sleek and shiny with Blomkamp’s dirt and grime, but to intentionally clash with it. 

In this vision of a future Earth (2154 to be exact), humanity has been neatly divided into two groups: those who can afford to leave the dying planet, and those forced to stay behind and scrape out some sort of living. It seems pretty clear that your designs were used to create the Utopian environments of Elysium – like an orbiting space station that serves as the ultimate gated community – while Blomkamp focused on those left behind. It’s no coincidence that Elysium’s Earth feels a lot like District 9’s titular sector (which itself echoed the real slums of Johannesburg).

Not to focus too much on plot machanics, but this neat divide works its way right down into the story and characters: Matt Damon as Max, an orphan raised on Earth who is trying to go straight after a life of crime. After a work accident leaves him deathly sick, he decides his only option is to do that “one last job” for the local crime lord so he can get himself an illegal shuttle to Elysium, and cure himself through its advanced medical technology. Jodie Foster, by contrast, Elysium’s Minister of Defense, who, as the most relentless Neighbourhood Watch coordinator ever, has made it her life mission to keep Elysium pure, no matter the cost. 

As far as conflicts and social commentary go, this is pretty simple stuff. And, really, simple is kind of refreshing after a summer of convoluted self-seriousness. It was a smart move for Blomkamp to employ your skills to help make that clarity part of Elysium’s visual design as well. 

Blomkamp’s overall design for the film, though, is not quite so simple. Along with his desire to make a social statement, Blomkamp also likes to blow things up. Well, blow people up, to be more specific. Like District 9, Elysium’s main cast members are an array of intricately-designed weaponry. I didn’t detect your hand here, Syd, as the guns, rocket launchers, and swords used owe more to games like Quake and Halo than anything else. Once these weapons started appearing, I sort of hoped Damon would wield his very own BFG before the credits rolled.

Luckily, Blomkamp takes a simple approach to action. Some of the cinematography and editing is a bit on the chaotic for my liking, but the amount of action is just right. Instead of the more-is-more approach, in which character is lost in an orgy of impersonal effects and explosions, Elysium, like your designs, prefers clarity. The scale of the action is always small and personal, even when motivations are the basest possible. It makes all the difference. Investment in the outcome of a conflict will always win out over simply watching conflict, no matter the size of the effects budget.

This conflict carries Elysium through its clunkier moments – including Foster’s performance. The slight French accent she gives Delacourt is distracting, and as a result, she comes off as stiff instead of determined. And when Max’s childhood friend Frey (Alice Braga) becomes a main part of the storyline, Blomkamp’s commentary becomes a little trite and neat. His reliance on too-cute flashbacks to hem as children nearly undermines Elysium’s momentum. Thankfully, Sharlto Copley, as a relentless mercenary hunting Max, keeps things moving.

The clarity of vision does come through overall. And if Elysium feels a little too pleased with its not-terribly-deep commentary, at least we know that’s by design. 

Looking upward,

Casey

Status: Standard delivery (3.5/5)

Behind the Candelabra

Dear Greg Fusak, Best Boy,

Liberace was, by all accounts, a fabulous man. Fab-u-lous. A stage diva of the highest order; an incredibly gifted pianist, an absurdly lavish dresser, and a proudly flamboyant performer. For a period, he was also the world’s highest paid entertainer. But like the subjects of all great American tragedies, that wasn’t enough. He was missing something. A lover. A friend. A son. All of which he found in Scott Thornson – a simple Massachusetts’s animal lover who became the “best boy” to the brightest lightshow in the Vegas.

You know what I’m talking about. 

To the outside world, “best boy” is a pretty funny title. Not unlike the “best man” at a wedding, the description of “best” is actually second to one other. In your case, it’s the second-in-command of the lighting department, the person in charge of coordinating people and schedules. A similar relationship, in some ways, that Scott has with Liberace. And for both of you, I imagine it’s sometimes hard never being in the spotlight – especially when you’re always so close to the stage.

Matt Damon, looking more boyish at age 42 than he ever has, plays the doe-eyed Scott who meets Liberace (a fab-u-lous Michael Douglas) backstage at a Vegas show in 1977. From there, an unconventional relationship blossoms outside the prying eyes of a deeply homophobic world. They’re also contending with a major age difference, and a confusing professional relationship – Scott being bisexual and Liberace being sexually demanding. But the actors do a great job of stripping away the extravagance and focusing on the simple, relatable experience of people initially swooning over one another and then growing apart. Just with a lot more drugs and plastic surgery.

This is a film that Hollywood studios believed couldn’t find a theatrical audience and was therefore produced for television by HBO, after premiering at Cannes. Such a grand stage seems befitting of the man who inspired the film, I’m sure you’d agree. Even if Steven Soderberg’s staid direction never indulges in all of the lightshow around the candelabra the way I’m sure you would have liked.  Instead he’s more interested in the shadows and quiet nooks of the story.

Was it the best approach? Maybe not, but then again, that depends on your definition of best. 

Sincerely,

Christopher

Status: Air Mail (3.5/5)