Yes, the title of this blog refers to the movie of the same name, not my inevitable showdown with Rachael Ray. But you know that’s coming. Her armed with a rubber-handle kitchen knife bearing her own name, me with a carbon steel tripod slashing at her like a lion tamer. You know it’s coming.
But no, I want to talk briefly about the flick. This isn’t a review. Those who know me either through real lifeness or through intertoniness should know that I don’t review movies. But I do talk about them. A lot.
A few tiny spoilers lay ahead, not much, but if you try to avoid those sorts of things, you should probably not keep reading.
There’s plenty to say about this flick and if you want to talk about it one on one, I’m happy to do that. For the masses though, I just want to point out a few things.
Fundamentally it’s a story about madness. But there’s really no internal conflict going on with any of these characters. Everyone is either so sure of themselves that they don’t recognize their insanity, or they just don’t give a fuck. But it’s true; these people don’t wrestle with demons. They just are demons.
The two central characters are both completely ‘round the bend. One crazy over the almighty dollar, the other over the almighty God.
And can two omnipotent entities coexist? And when they duke it out, who’s going to lose?
In a capitalist nation founded by religious zealots, money and faith have to bump heads at some point? Of course they have to. And they did. Probably this didn’t start at the turn of last century, when the movie is set, but it certainly hadn’t stopped by that point. Maybe they’ve never stopped.
I thought about the pope, telling us it’s a sin to be wealthy as he poops on a golden toilet inside a mansion inside his own little pious-ass nation. Has he found a way to reconcile these two forces? Or is he just as crazy-insane as these two?
In this movie, God doesn’t seem to have quite the sway money does. I’m betting, deep down, the same goes for Benedict XVI.
I thought about the pope after watching this movie.
But mostly I thought about what most scholars will tell you is the greatest movie of all time.
Watching this flick last night I felt like I was watching Citizen Kane again, but as an anachronism. Orson Wells walking against the wind. Trying to go forward and backward at the same time.
It’s both updated in its look and scope, but retro in its setting. Like dudes with two-hundred dollar sneakers wearing a Member’s Only jacket or something.
Like the moonwalk.
But it felt like Citizen Kane.
Not exactly, Planview had no rosebud. He has no regrets. But both seem to be cautionary tales about obsession. About rich pricks and alienation and huge fuck-off houses. And other spoilery stuff, too.
I don’t write reviews and I don’t read them before I see a flick. I do sometimes check them out afterwards, though, just to see how other people break shit down.
In this case I went to Roger Ebert, the first critic most of us probably think of, just to see if he saw Orson Wells inside PTA’s newest classic. And indeed he did. To a point.
But what I found most interesting about Ebert’s review was a list of what he called “imperfections” in the movie. These he used to contrast Blood with No Country for Old Men- a flick which he called, “perfect.” No Country isn’t even close to being perfect but that’s a whole other kettle of potatoes.
On the list of imperfections Ebert wrote about was “an almost complete lack of women.”
And I thought about that and, intentional or not, and my guess is it wasn’t, the lack of women is, for me, what really sells the flick.
Because at its heart, this is a movie about madness. About selfish ambition. About unforgivable narcissism (something I know a thing or three about). Had any great women been around, had these lunatics had someone to share themselves with, had someone they could love more than themselves, it probably could have been a very different and much more boring story.
And hell, now that I think about it, maybe it was intentional. The only character who seems to have a soul to speak of, who seems like a reasonable human, leaves with dignity and a bride.
As often as women have driven me crazy, as often as they have driven me absolutely bat-shit-loco, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live without them. And I wouldn’t trade a moment spent with most of them.
…Most of them.
And this of course does not extend to Rachael Ray.
But that’s where it’s at, right? It’s in the giving.
Left to our own devices, look at what we can do.
So anyway, here’s to chicks who give me something to believe in when I want to be someone who believes. When I can’t believe in me.
*raises glass*
And if you’re wondering if this movie is perfect, for me it wasn’t, but it’s a lot closer than No Country.
I won’t break down the flaws, exactly, but I’ll talk about what I feel was the movies greatest misstep.
It was casting Daniel Day-Lewis.
Yes, he’s phenomenal. Yes it’s his greatest performance in a long list of unreal, outstanding performances. And that’s the problem. You can’t put anyone in a scene with that guy. No one is operating at his level. No one. He chews up the other actors and spits their bloody bits back on to the rushes and all you can do is watch and feel remorse for his co-stars.
He is fucking deadly, that guy.
I’m serious. It would be like if Tiger Woods double-eagled every hole he played. Ever. Even par-three’s he gets three under par. That’s right; he holed the ball without swinging. That would be pretty unfair to everyone else on the PGA. But that’s what’s going on here. Day-Lewis is shooting a 23 at Sawgrass.
And wouldn’t you know, he’s been with the same woman for the last 12 years.
Get a beverage of your choice and fall in love, why don’t you?
E
When I was a riser, to Dublin I’d roam…
