Sunshine State; Harvard Man
Harvard Man Directed by James Toback
Currently, the most misused word in movie culture is "masterpiece." Lots of critics used it after the ordeal of The Fast Runner (Atyerownrisk). But how can that first Inuit drama be a "masterpiece" if its maker has not previously demonstrated mastery? It recalls the risible 80s ad-blurb that hailed Man of Marble as "The Citizen Kane of Polish movies." The M-word has become a film pundits equivalent to a burp. Reviewers of The Fast Runner know they saw something, but unsure of what it was exactly (and, as always, unable to accurately consult the movie heritage), they grasp after handy adjectives, and expel gas.
Midway through this movie year, there have been films that offer perspective on modern experience while also demonstrating remarkable invention and serious creativity–but The Fast Runner aint one of em. And its embarrassing to indulge Western cultural condescension by overrating a movie from Upnorth that stretches out hoary cultural myths about people of color for the delectation of Southern white sophisticates. Star Wars does a better job of cultural anthropology–and at least it was shot on film. Maybe this Fast Runner shell-game (or igloo game) is just an attempt by critics to keep up with the digital changeover. Instead of criticizing the awful visual quality (favoring a film style that might inspire 20 different words for snow), they shill for the barbarous new technology.
Happily, the best movies so far this year really were shot on film. A couple would qualify as masterpieces if we could restore meaning to that fast-and-loosely used term. This mid-year list might help:
Minority Report–Spielbergs treatise on vision and violence. Time Out–the Taxi Driver of global economics movies. Storytelling–a dark-humored view of American hypocrisies. The Cats Meow–a moving speculation on love, genius and movies. The Triumph of Love–Marivaux made modern by Clare Peploe. Borstal Boy–the Brendan Behan biography treats sex and politics poetically. Human Nature–wild behavioral farce with an enchanted look. CQ–retro and rad; 60s film culture charms/infects the present. The Sleepy Time Gal–reconciles extended families and reinvents Jacqueline Bisset as an actress. Circuit–gay soap opera with stinging social detail and the years most underrated performances. Last Orders–a male weepie redeemed by the best British reserve. Trouble Every Day–Claire Denis weird vampiric social critique. Too serious to dismiss. A Walk to Remember–a rarity: teen gospel drama.
At the polls, at a union picnic, a happy-hour bar, maybe even a culturally mixed dance club, John Sayles and I might share working-class sympathies and a good joke. Its at the movies that we differ. Standing for the idea of independent filmmaking isnt enough when the closest Sayles gets to a cinematic triumph is taking off the lens cap. Sunshine State might be the best recent Sayles film, but it shares with his others the unsurprising, absolutely standard pingpong dialogue and visual static. Its a chore to sit through.
This is unfortunate since Sayles takes