Not quite clearing the bar

A couple years back, I told Jaime and Larissa (our regular Michigan Theater partners) that I would write something about each film that we saw there because they were usually good films with something to say and I, in turn, would usually have something to say about them. I've almost kept that promise, but occasionally have had to step back and deliver in a partial way because what we've seen just hasn't been that inspiring. There are three films that come to mind in that respect, from one we saw the week before Christmas (Decision to Leave), to one we saw a couple weeks ago (Living), and one we saw last night (To Leslie.) They were all good films, but they didn't strike me in a way that compelled me to sit down immediately afterward and start typing away. So, instead, as I've done a time or two before, I'm going to put together some condensed assessments of all three of them.

Decision to Leave. This was the most surprising of the three in that I found a lot to enjoy about it on a technical level, but then found myself without much to remark on beyond that. It's co-written and directed by Park Chan-wook, who has achieved legendary status among Korean filmmakers and for good reason. His characters are sound and his stories are almost always interesting. In truth, Decision may be his best work since Oldboy. But when I walked out, the first thought that came to mind was: "That was essentially a remake of Basic Instinct.", where the cop falls for the woman in a way he can't really understand, but who eventually wrecks his life and career and the audience is never quite certain whether she's doing so intentionally or whether he is just driving his life into the ground because he can't quite give her up. As with other Park films, these characters are more developed and far more subtle than those in Verhoeven's shockfest, but the plot still follows the same trails, including incorporating other cops, corrupt and not, into the plot and leaving everyone questioning each others' motives and true involvement in what goes on. It's a great example of story pacing, as every shot seems appropriate and leaves you with something interesting to look at in terms of either story element or setting, if not both. And, in the end, it's far more of a romantic tragedy than it is a thriller, especially when it comes to the fairly poignant ending. But something just didn't work for me when reflecting on what I'd seen. I would definitely recommend it, especially to Park fans, but there just wasn't much grist for the mill, as it were, in terms of writing that says much more than: "Technically superior, as always."

Living. This is Ikiru, full stop. The screenplay is adapted from it and the direction follows in Akira Kurosawa's path almost note-for-note. There are a couple minor deviations in character interactions, but this is basically Ikiru without as much of the dramatic thoughtfulness that tends to permeate Kurosawa's characters and stories. In that respect, I'd say that if you want to see this story, you should go watch the original, not only because it's better, but also because it won't leave you with the impression that you're watching something that's being spoon-fed to a Western audience by presenting them with something more familiar in order to make it go down easy. Nothing against screenwriter, Kazuo Ishigiro, or director, Oliver Hermanus, but it's difficult to really get excited about a remake that doesn't really present anything novel about the approach or give any real foundation for remaking a film that is still completely relatable to modern audiences. Bill Nighy does well as the lead character (and was nominated for it) but lacks the genuinely hopeful energy that Takasi Shimura displays in the original because displaying that kind of energy would be a very non-proper-English thing to do, in the same way that emotional restraint is an aspect of Japanese culture. But in the case of Shimura, pushing back against the dolor drove the film's purpose, while Nighy doesn't do that so much as simply try to evade things until the inevitable end. Living literally didn't do anything that I hadn't seen before. I own a copy of Ikiru because it's one of my favorites of Kurosawa's, which means that this film had a steep hill to climb from the get-go, but it was still mildly disappointing to just walk to the finish line.

To Leslie. I thought this film started strong. Andrea Riseborough (who has been nominated for her lead role, like Nighy) created a tragically detestable person that we followed around through all the travails of blaming everyone else for her problems, while creating more for herself and everyone around her. In other words, the perfect addict. Along the way, we're introduced to a dozen other characters, all of whom fulfill the tenets of my essential assessment of character: Do they seem like real people? They all do because they react with emotion and confusion and in ways that characters written strictly to a role wouldn't do. But once we get past the crux point of our very interesting character study, we end up in a happy-ending scenario that simply doesn't come off as real and the enormous promise that the film held up to that point withers away. It's not a bad story. It just takes something that has texture and crosses the border from simple, which it always was, to smooth and simplistic, which is kind of a shame. As with the previous two films, there are any number of solid performances here alongside Riseborough's tour de force. It was great to see The Wire veteran, Andre Royo (Bubbles!), show up on the screen again, too. But, in the end, the ending was just too uplifting for the depths that we'd been asked to explore up to that point, which made it seem like something was changed late in the creative process when a producer objected to leaving the audience feeling like they'd actually seen a slice of someone's real life (as we'd seen in the wonderful, Red Rocket, for example), as opposed to the representation of one. Due credit to Riseborough, who was brilliant, but I can't say that this one stood out beyond that.