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j-m-davis
Reviews
Sidewalks of New York (2001)
Krumholtz Proves Himself the Great, Underrated Character-Actor of his Generation.
This film is not perfect. It's not perfect, because Heather Graham is, at times, too good an impersonator of the young Diane Keaton, and the younger Juliet Lewis. I am thinking of their performances in Woody Allen's 'Annie Hall' and 'Husbands and Wives,' respectively. It's not perfect because the documentary-style, pathos-generating device of the character-interview does not always generate pathos the way that it's supposed to, and instead leaves you feeling a little annoyed at being short-changed on the pathos you had perhaps unconsciously bargained for.
However, as a film that you accidentally stumble across late of an evening (these, of course, not being circumstances that you'll be able to replicate if you're reading this review intending to watch it) it's almost, pretty near, goddamn, close to perfect. This is because of the feel, or atmosphere that the film has. This, admittedly, has a lot to do with the synchronisation of the soundtrack and the cinematography- but there are times when these aspects cohere really beautifully with the performances (particularly those of David Krumholtz and Brittany Murphy).
To get the technical stuff out of the way, the shooting style is unashamedly Woody Allenesque, and so is the structure for that matter- what with the aforementioned interspersed character-interviews. It's not really fair to call it a rip-off, though: Allen stole that particular device (not to mention most of the plot of 'Husbands and Wives') from Bergman's magisterial 'Scenes from a Marriage.' Looting from Bergman's treasure-chest is something that should be encouraged. Suffice it to say, there are jump-cuts and they don't feel irritatingly stylised.
But, anyway, back to 'Sidewalks of New York.' The film deals with themes of sex and love. There's a lot of cheating and declaring. Cheating, declaring, and sex. No great, new insights are offered into the subject... there's nothing here that you won't find in Anna Karenina or Madame Bovary on the subjects of marriage, sex and extra-marital sex or the consequences thereof for the two former... The great parts of the film happen when Director Ed Burns manages to create a really exciting and plausible moment.
Most of these involve the brilliant David Krumholtz. See in particular his attempts early on in the film to woo Murphy's student/waitress/unhappy-concubine-to-an-unfaithful-dentist character. And his subsequent abortive serenading of that girl in the café where she works (more endearing than any song might have been). Krumholtz, who is the key Allen surrogate in the film, emerges as a great character-actor, much as Paul Giamatti did in 'American Splendor.' And much in the vein or mould of a Giamatti or Steve Buscemi (see 'Trees Lounge' and 'Ghost World').
Many of the more telegenic alumni of the class of 'Ten Things I Hate About You' have since graduated to bigger things. Notably the late Heath Ledger and, more recently, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who appeared in the more recent, more saccharine, more popular, more irritatingly shiny and happy, and more not-as-good Woody Allen homage '500 Hundred Days of Summer.' Krumholtz has kept a lower profile, appearing in the great Barry Levinson's watchable 'Liberty Heights.' Once again, though only a marginal role, his was the best performance for sheer wit, charm and believability.
Unrelated (2007)
Harder than Rohmer; Subtler than Haneke.
The way that the film is shot and edited, particularly the long-shots, the dramatic use of artificial silences (where the soundtrack is dropped altogether) and the Attenboroughesque cut-to-cut montage of the landscape is a lot like something from Rohmer. A Summer's Tale, in particular. The director uses these techniques in a way which, as in Rohmer, complements the subtleties and natural feeling of the plot itself. There is a smooth marriage of the realistic content and this restrained and unobtrusive visual style. Perhaps only such metaphorical marriages can be so smooth.
Superficially, the story, mise-en-scene and characters also are Rohmeresque. The drama is internal and psychological, the characters are drawn from the upper middle-classes, and they are- as is often the case in Rohmer's films- on holiday; variously enjoying themselves and wondering why they are not, or are incapable, of doing so. It's as though Marie Riviere's character in Rohmer's 'The Green Ray' didn't meet her true love in the train station in Bayonne(?) at the end of the film and is, to heartbreaking effect, trying once more some fifteen years later, post-menopausal, after a disappointing marriage.
Though this is to romanticise the connection too much: Rohmer's film was mysterious, modern fairy-tale about love and its link to private superstitions. Joanna Hogg's film takes place on a rougher plane as earthly and scarred, to use the obvious simile, as the Tuscan fields against which it unfolds. It does successfully what, I think anyway, Michael Haneke's 'The Piano Teacher' failed to do, which is to show the vulnerability of the repressed, middle-aged woman whose world is almost demolished by a manipulative, handsome young man. But it is complex, and what upsets Anne most is not the rejection but the guilt of her subsequent revenge. Haneke used fairy-tale tropes, too- this time, the wicked, domineering, passive-aggressive mother (is this a wider tendency of male European directors?), in a highly stylised film, with a typically strident performance from Isabelle Huppert. Haneke always tries too hard to shock- whether its sniffing spunk-stained tissues in the peep-show or self-mutilation in the bathroom. It's strangely dull. Hogg shows Anne being delicately led astray, with a subtler cruelty: the expression of anticipation on her face when they play the "Pass the Orange" game, alone, will make you wince with your whole body.
The performances are all good. The faults are very minor: the "youngs" are only slightly exaggerated. The husband of Anne's friend seemed potentially more sympathetic- his character might have been better-developed (but perhaps this was deliberate, and he is a "hen-pecked" husband).
Thank you, Ms. Hogg, for a very truthful film.