Mad Bad and Dangerous To Know

At least there's the soundtrack...
courtesy www.nonesuch.com

I have definitely been getting a crash course in film studies lately. Sarah and I have been watching a ton of TV and movies and, more often that not, there seems to be a common thread that we are drawn to.

Yesterday we made it out to see Inside Llewyn Davis, the new film by the Coen Brothers. A longtime fan of the brothers' quirky tales of lovable losers, I have to admit that I was disappointed by this near-humorless movie. Don't get me wrong, the music and cinematography definitely paint the picture of the early '60s New York folk scene, but that was about all I found attractive. Oscar Isaac seems a talented singer, but there is nothing sympathetic about the title character that he portrays. Miserable Llewyn Davis, walking trough the Village in his thin coat, insulting people, chasing after lost cats... the film is about struggling and the artistic life, but very early on I didn't find much about this selfish character to root for... isn't that the idea of the anti-hero?

bad-ass gift! The complete "Breaking Bad" series on DVD.
Courtesy www.breakingbadstore.com.

There was an interesting NPR story that came out this past fall about how in the very first episode of Breaking Bad, show creator Vince Gilligan utilized several story and filmmaking tricks to get us to sympathize with Walter White (played by the brilliant Bryan Cranston). A down on his luck chemistry teacher who learns that he has inoperable lung cancer, NPR points out that the filmmakers establish a world full of sad obstacles for the character and then bring us a point-of-view sequence where we can connect with the character's emotions even further. It seemed to do the trick: after five seasons of increasingly evil behavior, I still find myself somewhat rooting for the nerdy teacher turned meth-cooking drug kingpin. 

I have said it before, but I was so impressed with Breaking Bad. The great thing is that the production of the show has been so well-documented, and I have enjoyed listening to the series podcasts on the way to work and watching behind-the-scenes footage on the show's DVDs. Gilligan and his crew have been extremely generous in letting us see what expertise each member of their crew brought to the table (the writer's room comes to mind), making one of the most compelling series of all time. 

Mad about it... how many weeks until April 13?
courtesy: www.amc.com

After bingeing on Breaking Bad, I was eager to immerse myself in another show of equal quality. People had been talking about the 1960s advertising drama, Mad Men for some time, but I hadn't really taken the time to look into it (apart from an unsuccessful attempt by Sarah and I to watch the first episode of season three, and being repulsed by the characters). Late last year I decided to give it a proper try, starting at season one... and many weeks later Sarah and I had a new favorite show. 

I had a feeling I would enjoy the show's attempts to recreate an authentic "look" of the era, but was surprised how I also began to appreciate and care for the characters as they travel through the changing culture of the 1960s. Don Draper (Jon Hamm), Roger Sterling (John Slattery), Pete Campbell (Vincent Kartheiser)... these are all fairly repulsive men who operate in a selfish, cutthroat and sexist world but again, through great writing, performances, and the unfolding nature of episodic TV, you really get to learn the background and different aspects of each character's personality (almost like a psychological study).

When asked about the appeal of Mad Men during a Paley Center talk with the show's creator and cast, actor Jon Hamm made an excellent point: "It takes it's time... it's not dependent on a certain formula or a certain show that has succeeded in the past... it's sort of this cool little one-off." Show creator Matthew Weiner continued that "you don't know what's going to happen, which takes a tremendous amount of effort from the both the audience and the writing, because the audience is really used to getting into the formula of like Agatha Christie or Law & Order or one of those things... and I think it also helps that the show is kind of honest in an almost embarrassing kind of way."

Mad Men and Breaking Bad have kept me on my toes as a viewer—I appreciate that. Like a good novel, these works are not presented merely as "black and white," and I find myself less patient of TV and films that would present otherwise. 

Do the hustle! Amy Adams continues
to shine. Courtesy www.thewrap.com

In the last couple weeks we have also seen the movies Her and American Hustle—both films are expertly made, but not entirely successful for me. The acting is the best part of American Hustle, loosely based on Abscam, the FBI's sting operation of the late 1970s. Actor Christian Bale plays Irving Rosenfeld, a cheating con man with a ridiculous toupee (hard to believe that before this he starred as Christopher Nolan's Batman) who eventually ends up working with an FBI agent to entrap corrupt politicians. Last seen in the Schenectady-based Place Beyond the Pines, Bradley Cooper plays agent Richie DiMaso, who has his own bad hair issues (I realize now this is what he must have been shooting when he showed up for the Pines premiere here in town). There is great dialogue between all the characters, including the always-entertaining Amy Adams, playing Irving's fellow con-artist/mistress Sydney Prosser. It's the kind of work that might be even better as an ongoing TV series, as the plot seems to get a bit unfocused... but again, I loved the period recreation and characters.

Her certainly has an interesting premise: in a not too distant future, a lonely man starts a "relationship" with his computer operating system—with the way technology is heading (simultaneously bringing us together and further isolating) it's a rather sobering thought. 

Photo of filmmakers Spike Jonze and David Fincher
talking movies at the NYC premiere of "The Curious Case of
Benjamin Buttons, December 2008. Photo by Jeremy Clowe.
All rights reserved.

I admire filmmaker Spike Jonze's work, even though I was pretty disappointed with his adaptation of Maurice Sendak's Where The Wild Things Are (maybe that was largely due to Dave Eggers' neurotic screenplay and the whiny voices of the monsters). In a recent interview, Jonze described learning something about vocal performances from that movie, which helped in the production of Her; I can see the benefit, as Scarlett Johansson was certainly captivating as the voice of Samantha The OS. A dressed-down Amy Adams was also fun as a "real-life" friend to Joaquin Phoenix's Theodore Trombley character (including a ridiculous exchange about people cheating on each other's operating systems). Otherwise, the movie felt a little too claustrophobic and depressing for me. I continue to appreciate what Jonze is trying to do, but prefer his more playful music videos and early films. 

So yes, I'm typically drawn to quirky movies and television, with flawed, realistic characters. Furthermore, I certainly enjoy a great looking film, but am beginning to wonder if the majority of critics are being deluded by style over substance... 

www.facebook.com/downtonabbey

TV seems to be winning out at the moment, and hey... it's cozier on the couch with your girl and a bowl of popcorn. Downton Abbey returns tonight, and I too have succumbed to the allure of this period piece looking at the British upstairs/downstairs social hierarchy of the Crawley Family Estate. This season has brought the cast outside of the Abbey a bit more, opening them up to the changing culture of the 1920s Jazz Age—not a bad thing. Again, the production values and performances are superb; I also find it interesting how they are dealing with the departure of actors, and maintaining strong storytelling. 

In a creative sense there's plenty to watch and learn from in the movies, but perhaps more so from the new "Golden Age of TV." Who would have thought?

Wild Thing: You Made My Heart Sing

Sigh... I have more sad news to share. Maurice Sendak, the beloved children's book illustrator/author, has passed away at age 83. Sendak was responsible for my absolute favorite book as a child, Where The Wild Things Are (1963). 

Thank you Mr. Sendak for the wild journey. Photo ©2004 Jeremy Clowe. All rights reserved.

As a kid I read and re-read the story of young Max, who was sent to his room without any supper for being unruly. Clad in his "terrifying" wolf suit, he sulks and then conjures up a grand tale of sailing off on the open seas to the land of the Wild Things. Under a moonlit sky, he is first scared by and then commands the group of grotesque monsters, who come to call him King-- "Let the wild rumpus begin!"

What glorious pages of imaginative, beautifully caricatured, colorful work that book contained. The things that stood out for me most were the monsters, Max's headstrong and shifting moods, the way the room changes into a forest, and finally the way Max misses his well-meaning family. He returns to his room... to find his dinner outside the door−and it was still warm.

While a student at the University of Southern California in the early 90s, I came across the book again in the campus bookstore, and had to buy it. I delighted in revisiting this tale that so captured my imagination, and wondered where the "missing pages" were? 

An article in the Washington Post perfectly sums up the artist's gift to sensitive children like me: "Sendak’s work allows children to come to terms with their fears and nightmares. The Wild Things can be tamed, turned into big teddy bears, no longer frightening monsters of the id..." Another Post writer comments: "The books showed that even children, confronting a range of often terrifying emotions, could through courage and resourcefulness begin to make sense of the world around them."

Taking a walk on the wild side at the Strong Museum, 2004.
Photo ©Jeremy Clowe. All rights reserved.

After I started working at Norman Rockwell Museum and doing interviews with various children's book illustrators, I began to think about trying to contact Sendak. I got to know one friend who had corresponded with Sendak on a number of occasions−he gave me his address, and I started to work on a letter to send the artist... but I hesitated... what could I say that this brilliant man hadn't heard a thousand times before? 

Occasionally I would bring up the idea of doing an exhibition on his work. I had a chance to view some of his original drawings that were on display at the Strong National Museum of Play back in 2004, during the same time a video I created for one of our traveling shows was being exhibited (I longed to sail into the life-size Max boat and get cracking on a similar show).

During lunch with a visitor to my Museum later that year, I learned that the director Spike Jonze was going to be doing a film adaptation of Where The Wild Things Are. Being an admirer of the director's work, I got even more excited... 
When I had the chance to meet Jonze just prior to the movie's release in 2009, I couldn't hide my enthusiasm, telling him how much I loved the book as a kid. This was met with a somewhat wary look from the director−I couldn't tell if it was because the film had been quite difficult to produce, or he was concerned about not meeting my expectations.

The truth is, he couldn't−even the most creative film director couldn't manage to bring this book to life the way I envisioned. Ultimately, I think only Sendak could pull off Sendak. Books like Where The Wild Things Are and In The Night Kitchen (1970) have such a distinct stamp on them... they are journeys into an imaginative realm that begins in your room, kitchen or garden. You are most definitely transported in the way great books do. The stories also had a slight darkness about them that stood out against the more sanitized books for children. They felt real and extraordinary at the same time.

Along with the movie adaptation of the Wild Things, Jonze produced a documentary about Sendak's work. I reached out to try and assist on the project, but didn't get too far (it may have been near completion).

When I finally watched the completed documentary, I felt depressed. Sendak seemed so melancholy and analytical−I couldn't believe that a man who had contributed so much could feel anything but fulfilled.

After I watched that documentary, I think I turned away from the idea of trying to interview him myself. As a child, he was the man with the answers... I looked to his books for comfort, and don't know what I could say to him during moments of his own questioning.

Deep down he must have known what a great gift he gave to us. He helped us stare down the monsters, as he worked on his own. I thought that Maurice Sendak would be around forever, and through his work he always will...  

Related LInks: 

"Maurice Sendak remembered for dark but engaging children's classics,"
The Washington Post, May 9, 2012

"Maurice Sendak, Author of Splendid Nightmares, Dies at 83," The New York Times, May 8, 2012