Pretty Girls Make Graves

Palm trees stretched elastic shadows across the crespuscular sky. Shades of puce, violet, and peach infiltrated the Los Angeles horizon. The dense smog anchored at the base of the sky seemed hardly an object of disgust, but merely one element of the near-perfect night. We were surrounded by graves, but it only made the sunset more poignant. This was how our Saturday night unraveled. My husband and I watched Cary Grant projected onto a large blank wall, Grant's superimposed image looking more like a god than an icon. We drank our wine and ate dinner on an outstretched blanket, surrounded by throngs of other people. In the middle of Hollywood, the dead were resurrected on screen.

This scene is not an uncommon one. Past the obalisks and sarcophagi, Angeleno cinephiles have created a haven of filmic spectatorship in the heart of Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Located on Santa Monica Boulevard and Gower, Hollywood Forever transforms its quad-sized lawn into a cinematic exhibition arena over the summer, screening movies every Saturday through a foundation called Cinespia (www.cinespia.org). The Hollywood Forever screenings boast a hip schedule of black-and-white and modern-day classics, offering a range of films from Vertigo and His Girl Friday to Taxi Driver and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Of course, it's only fitting that mere feet away, you can visit famous interred stars from the Silent and Golden Ages of Hollywood Cinema, such as Douglas Fairbanks and Peter Lorre.

To be fair, the Hollywood Forever screenings are not as morbid as I may be letting on. You do not sit directly on any gravestones or go around stomping on sympathy bouquets and a DJ provides music before and after the showing. Far from scary or bizarre, the mood is generally relaxed and laid back, ideal for both picnic-carting families and alcohol-ingesting twentysomethings. Although my one complaint is that the sound quality of the speakers is not wonderful, the experience is still worthwhile. However, don't expect to see me at the next screening. I'm not a big Pee Wee fan.

For more info, check out the Cinespia link.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

The loaded and somewhat ambiguous term, "dark comedy," has been applied to rather disparate films - movies that range from the relatively tame to the relatively disturbing. Sure, you can delineate the boundaries of the "genre" (if you can call it that), but on a whole, "dark comedies" tend to be a bit of a grab bag. Perhaps its my macabre palette, but whenever the D.C. descriptor is used to classify a film, I am shamelessly drawn to the box office, even though I'm never quite sure whether or not the film will amount to my expectations. Thus was the case with You Kill Me, the latest flick in the aforementioned trend, which stars Ben Kingsley as Frank, a hit man whose alcoholism inhibits his on-the-job performance. Forced to move out of Buffalo while he dries out, Frank begrudgingly relocates to San Francisco, where he attends AA meetings, works at a mortuary, and meets his romantic match in sharp-tongued ad exec, Laurel (Téa Leoni).

Narratively, You Kill Me sticks to the genre conventions. The hit man. The corrupt organizations involved with the hit man. The humorous take on dead bodies. The impending reform. The final show-down. We've seen this before. Though the concept is not particularly novel, the film is (mostly) entertaining and the dry, dead-pan humor is well-executed. But for all these merits, the film leaves something to be desired. My biggest gripe is that the character development of the smaller roles is relatively shallow. For instance, Tom (Luke Wilson), a character who serves as Frank's AA sponsor, fell particularly flat (a narrative problem, not an acting issue). In a befuddling character choice, Tom is quickly identified as a gay man in the film, yet this aspect of his character seems almost like an afterthought; it is so incredibly incidental one wonders why it even made it into the script. In fact, the disclosure of Tom's sexual orientation is so unnaturally staged that it does nothing more than call attention to how undeveloped his persona really is. It only leaves me asking, "where's the subtext?" Dave (Bill Pullman), the bullying real estate agent who monitors Frank's progress in San Francisco is likewise poorly developed. The underlying motivations, emotions, and personalities of these characters are sketchy at best. Fortunately, Kingsley redeems the film, delivering a solid performance as the comedic "straight man" and bringing new life to the character. What's more, Leoni's portrayal of Laurel compliments Kingsley's character quite well and her equally "straight" performance works within the parameters of the movie.

As far as the cinematography is concerned, director John Dahl regularly fills the screen with saturated colors and contrast lighting, which imparts a visual boldness that is in contradistinction to the downplayed, virtually stoic affect of the characters. For my part, I found the interplay between these two elements compelling and necessary. Had Dahl opted to use drab, desaturated colors (which would have more closely mimicked the morbidity of Frank's various professions and the weight of his depression), the film would have been hard pressed to keep the comedic edge. With the visual crispness of the shots, nothing felt static or heavy.

Although I did mostly enjoy the film, You Kill Me just didn't blow me away. Perhaps I'm being overly critical because I compare it to the assassin-driven dark comedies of the past. I will say that if you're looking for a fantastic dark comedy about dysfunctional hit men, please, please rent The Matador, starring Pierce Brosnan and Greg Kinnear instead. It's absolutely brilliant. The nuanced character development and the striking visuals will show you what you can really do with this type of plot. Ah, I'm getting excited just thinking about it. The Matador was one of my favorite films of 2005 and well worth the price of a 5-day rental. Plus late fees.

Once Upon a Rhyme

The pared-down Irish "musical," Once, has been universally praised by critics since its stateside debut in May. Though not widely advertised (or widely released, for that matter), a little research will unearth an abundance of enthusiastic reviews of the film. I mean, Jesus, the rotten tomatoes rating (www.rottentomatoes.com) is practically unparalleled. Even otherwise vitriolic critics have resorted to using adjectives like "perfect" to describe the film. I won't go quite that far. The one-and-a-half-hour, music-packed movie is certainly "charming" (a frequently used, but right-on descriptor) and a refreshing break from the over-written, over-developed, over-the-top blockbusters; but I will put a couple of caveats on my endorsement of the film.

Technically speaking, Once is an artful work of subtlety that recalls the realist movements of years past, with its long take/deep focus, entirely hand-held camera work, minimal use of post-production sound, location shooting, natural lighting and salt-of-the-earth characters. It could almost be an Italian neo-realist flick, or perhaps more fittingly, a Dogme '95 film (that is, if you don't consider it a genre film). While I do generally like the long takes, they can get a bit excessive at times, especially during many of the performance scenes. Director John Carney does use some beautiful cutting during the crowd sequences, where the passersby wipe the screen (a technique I always love) and the takes are much shorter. But regardless, the film is marked by a lot of continuous shots, which for the attention-deficit-afflicted viewer, may make the film seem slow.

Narratively, the film sticks to its minimalist tendencies. Part "musical," part romance, the film follows an aspiring singer-songwriter (Glen Hansard of Irish band, The Frames) and the relationship he forges with a female pianist he meets on the streets of Ireland. The dialogue throughout the film is sparse and natural. The desaturated colors and minor-key melodies paint a Dublin worn by the pervading sadness of the brokenhearted, a haven for the wandering, hopeful lost. Many shots are expertly staged, exposing poignant moments of the characters' quotidian lives. For instance, a crowd gathering around the protagonist becomes a sad statement on his inability to make money playing his original songs. A beautiful, moonlit shot of his father working through the night on menial tasks denudes their slightly (only slightly) bleak reality. Generally, the film imparts a sense of hope and tenderness infused with the smallest bit of melancholy, which I find more realistic than the maudlin sentiments of many other films today.

But despite its best attempts, Once is mostly about the music. Anyone who claims otherwise is, in some sense, fooling themselves. While the plot is not a mere artifice, it does take a backseat to the guitar-and-piano-accompanied crooning that predominates. Going into the film, I was legitimately apprehensive about its "musical" nature, especially since the songs were said to be in the vein of Coldplay (not my music of choice). Fortunately, to my surprise, I was taken in by the simple, haunting appeal of the music. The harmonies between Glen Hansard's gruff vocals and Markéta Irglová's ethereal style are enchanting. The soundtrack is playing even as I write. Of course, the music will not be appreciated by all. I will say that those who do not like the music will more than likely not like the movie. It is the cornerstone of the piece. But even if the music doesn't sound like your cup of tea, give it a chance. It's well worth it.

*Going off topic for a moment, I did want to briefly discuss the movie-going experience. I went to see this film with my husband at the recently constructed Landmark Theatres located in the annexed section of Westside Pavilion and let me say how fantastic it was. All of you indie-film-loving, Los Angeles residents need to get up on this theatre. Boasting a fantastic wine bar, the newest technology, stadium seating, ushers, plush leather seats, and a broad range of concessions (wasabi snacks and vegan cookies, anyone?), it's without question the place to be. My one suggestion is to be prepared. Show times sell out quickly (I found out the hard way) and the sooner you buy tickets, the sooner you get to pick out your assigned seats. So ditch the Arclight and its exorbitant ticket prices. You'll thank me for it.