Movie Review: Schultze Gets the Blues

Release Date: 2003
Director: Michael Schorr
Language: German/English (English subtitles)
Starring: Horst Krause

I look for German-language films to keep up the practice, so I was happy to find this film at the library. Well, great title and concept but a lot more melancholy than I expected.

Set in Germany, Texas, and Louisiana, Schultze Gets the Blues features nuanced acting and sly wit but isn't exactly a feel-good film. It's more of an art house film, not for audiences used to adrenalin punches, neat wrap-ups, and football-in-the-groin comedies. But if you like character-directed stories or German film in general, then this is a decent rental/library loan.

In the tradition of German philosophy, the director asks those tough questions—how do we live, what do we do, when the end of our lives approaches? In its way, Schultze is About Schmidt's quiet cousin who nurses his beer at the bar and doesn't say much while Jack Nicholson is all waggling eyebrows (although both actors get to play hot tub scenes).

Schultze is a laid-off/retired miner living alone in a little house with garden gnomes. Sensible and reliable, he's the respectable Everyman. Having worked all his life, he has no idea how to deal with free time, and has one creative outlet, playing the accordion in polka bands. It's a quiet life for our hero.

Then, finally, after much plodding around with other retired friends and a misguided flirtation with a waitress, something happens to him: he discovers a passion for zydeco music and sets about learning how to play it. He eventually wins the opportunity to travel to the United States to play in a German-American festival in Texas, thus finally having an adventure. Which turns out to be the film's best part as Schultze navigates his way through the dusty roads and swampy bayous with limited English, and meeting a lot of nice people along the way. And enjoying that great Cajun music and food.

By wandering through Schultze's days, Schorr makes his points about retirement and a culture that emphasizes Ordnung, orderliness in one's life, the unspoken instruction that he must do the sensible thing and not take risks. (Side note here—it appears that Schultze lives in Saxony where another mining employee once lived, the 19th century Romantic poet Novalis. The poet, in his brief life, was able to express himself more eloquently and passionately than poor old Schultze. A comment, perhaps, on the deadening of the spirit in modern times? A missed opportunity? Disconnect with the past? Not sure, just some theories I'm spinning.)

For Schultze to go on a quest and make a change—no matter how long it takes him—and to follow a passion where it leads him at his age, is a modest miracle. And we root for him. But I wish the film could have extended his adventures in America after so long a build-up.

Maybe that's an additional point—don't hide behind the garden gnomes and wait too long to fulfill your dreams. We all need a little Louisiana hot sauce in our life stew.



A second opinion from Ebert

Movie Review: Byron

My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

George Gordon, Lord Byron, was the 19th century's bad boy, a rock star before there was rock, and the embodiment of the Romantic archetype of the dark genius. His poetry was passionate and kinetic, swaggering across the page with ease.

Byron lived as he wrote, passionately, boldly, and extravagantly, with an "in thy face" attitude to polite British society. His writing didn't so much evoke a muse as it evokes a daimon, a darker, more Dionysian energy. Poems like "Manfred," "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," and to a more satirical/sardonic extent, "Don Juan," celebrated his archetype, the Byronic hero, a daring, doomed, reckless, dark-souled artist, rebelling against society, written. Byron, hyper-aware of people's reactions to him and his image as a poet, felt compelled to live up to that ideal in his personal life, gaining admirers and detractors alike.

To do justice to his life would require a longer miniseries or an epic film, which would cost a few dear ha' pennies, so Byron, a made-for-television BBC production, focuses on one of the scandals that made him into a notorious figure—the alleged relationship he had with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh. (The true extent of their relationship has never been confirmed; like many famous people, much of Byron's life has morphed into legend.)

The movie's trajectory follows the writer's rise as the hot new poet on the scene after the publication of "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage" in 1812 and his subsequent social fall. His has a fling with the equally eccentric Lady Caroline Lamb and when that collapses, pays a visit to Augusta, whose husband is more interested in horseracing that in her. Byron comforts her and they go beyond kissin' cousins. He's happy, feeling he's met his kindred spirit, able to confess his most vulnerable and twisted thoughts to her. But Augusta realizes what's at stake. She suggests a marriage with Anne Milbanke, a progressive young woman who solves calculus equations for fun and believes she can save Byron from his wicked ways. After their inevitable divorce, Byron moves to Italy and Switzerland where he spends his time romancing women and complaining to fellow poet Percy Bysshe Shelly. Attempting to redeem his life with meaningful activity, he returns to Greece, only to die of a fever while organizing a unit for the Greek war for independence.

Overall, the performances are excellent. Johnny Lee Miller takes on the role with high energy, giving life to Byron's alternating moods of charisma, humor, insecurity, sincere passion for life, vanity, and self-pity. The poet's genius inspired and charmed people but also made him a tyrant. The movie doesn't flinch when it comes to the high-handed ways he treats the people in his life, namely his wife and his long-suffering manservant, Fletcher. Byron frequently lashed out—and either you feel for his struggle to overcome his darkness or you wish he'd get over it already. Convinced he's bad to the bone, Byron acts out, flouts convention, and says he doesn't care. Yet despite his mockery, he feels vulnerable and lost, longing to find a meaningful role in life, to be something more than a debauched exile.

One quibble I had with the film: I wish it had spent more time chronicling his relationships with other writers. During that gloomy "Year Without a Summer," Byron, his doctor John Polidori, and Percy and Mary Shelly stayed in their Swiss villa and competed to see who could write the spookiest tale. Polidori wrote The Vampyre, which started the vampire genre, and Mary came up with a little tale called Frankenstein. (The Vampyre was attributed to Byron, but his authorship or c-authorship with Polidori hasn't been confirmed.)

Studying Byron's life and poetry raises interesting questions about creativity and how to go about expressing it. Did his contrarian, devil-may-care attitude enhance his creativity or eventually hold him back from further growth? Would he have felt happier had he found a more secure position in life—or would he then have felt less inspired to write? The Romantic conception of the artist—boundary-breaking, ruled by passion, often tragic—remains with us to this day but is it the only viable model from which to create? And how does the artist cope when he stumbles into that vulnerable gap between self-image and reality?

No easy answers there. Some follow their heads, others follow their hearts, still others their impulses. Byron followed his to a dark star that burned out in Greece. He probably would have done the same again if given a second chance.

Movie Review: Napoleon Dynamite

Original release date: 2004
Directors: Jared and Jerusha Hess (based on their student film)
Starring: Jon Heder, Efren Ramirez, Jon Gries

For the love of tater tots, this was one strange, maddening, interesting film.

You know how when you walk into a thrift shop, there's this weird little object that you can't help but pick up and turn around and around in your hand, and you can't figure out what it's for and what it means but you can't help but keep looking at it and the more you look at it, suddenly the more interesting it gets?

That's what Napoleon Dynamite is like. It's odd. It's weird. But there's something about it that draws you in.

Or turns you off if you don't like odd, weird things. I think the age of the viewer will be a deciding factor.

For the first fifteen minutes, I wasn't sure if I would make it through the movie. I had the feeling that the scenes must have been hilarious on paper but weren't coming out that way in the acting. And what to make of the avacado 70s décor, complete with crockpot on the counter mixed with this guy chatting with his online girlfriend… on early 90s Prodigy? A teen at the nurse's office, complaining in a bored tone? And a grandmother crashing an ATV?

Then, somehow, I got hypnotized and kept watching. Blame it on the avacado; I can't help but stare at that color. It's so…avacado.

When the grandmother has to stay in the hospital to recuperate from her crash, she sends in Uncle Rico to look after Napoleon and his brother Kip (who at 32, still needs minding). Uncle Rico, a faded high school football star, dreams up get-rich-quick schemes, recruiting Kip as his assisant and annoying Napoleon. Then a girl named Deb shows up at the door, trying to sell her homemade crafts and runs away when Napoleon's response is less than enthusiastic. And finally, a new student is transferred to school, Pedro, whose family moved to Idaho from Mexico.

What unfolded then hooked me further in: a tale of friends that sparked in me appreciation for those kind of serendipitous friendships that only the weird epxerience of high school can create.

And I loved the fashion mash-up. Kip is early 90's prep, shoulders slumped under nice-guy polo, Deb with her side-flipped ponytail and pastels is an early 80s teen magazine editorial, and Napoleon is stuck in the dreary bog of late 70s silkscreen t-shirts and moon boots. Maybe in Idaho all decades exist together.

Some viewers complained the characters was just another nerd stereotype. And sure, there's the obligatory jock character who bullies him, but I see another archetype at work here. Napoleon is an updated version of a familiar fairy tale figure usually called the Dummling or Stupid Hans, the slow-witted youngest brother of a family who despite his dullness manages to get along fine and even save the day. Which is exactly what Napoleon does.

He laments he doesn't have skills, but he does: friendship and integrity. He helps Pedro run for student president and objects to his uncle's dishonesty. He puts all of his efforts into learning how to dance (with Kip's online girlfriend LaFawnda's amused help), culimating in the famous dance scene.

Like that odd object in the thrift shop, Napoleon Dynamite becomes more interesting the more you look at it. Probably two or three more viewings are needed to pick up on all of the director's references (like Mormon communities in Idaho). It has a kind of precious, hand-made feel to it. One thing I'm not sure of: are the directors making fun of their characters or are they just allowing them to amble along with their quirks? It's a fine line here.

I wouldn't necessarily recommend it to all viewers. (Roger Ebert hated it for reasons that support my generation gap theory.) But in an era of remakes and sequels, it's pretty sweet that something this unique and different slipped through.

Movie Review: Mughal-e-Azam

Release date: 1960 B&W (re-released colorized 2005)
Director: K.Asif
Language: Urdu
Starring: Prithviraj Kapoor, Dilip Kumar, Madhubala, Durga Khote
Notable song/music: "Pyar Kiya tho Darna Kiya"

Mughal-e-Azam isn't just a classic Bollywood movie. It's a classic movie period.

Asif and actors labored over this film for nine years. Nine years! Imagine the sustained passion, effort, and dedication it takes to keep at a project for that long. And it shows: Mughal-e-Azam (The Great Mughal) is one the most well-crafted films in popular Indian cinema. It's now the yardstick by which epics are measured.

Set in the Mughal Empire in the 16th century, the film develops its story from the legendary romance based on the historical emperor Akbar and his son, taking the viewer into a world of tragic love, family loyalty and discord, and explores the extent to which people are willing to practice tolerance.

Muslim emperor Akbar (Kapoor) marries a Hindu/Rajput princess Jodhabai (Khote) and they raise their son Salim (Kumar) to be educated and tolerant. But the emperor's tolerance is tested when Salim announces he wants to marry dancer and commoner Anarkali (Madhubala) instead of a woman from a higher class. Akbar demands that Salim break it off with Anarkali but Salim refuses. War breaks out between the emperor and the prince.

Who is right, father or son? Will Salim turn his back on Anarkali and sacrifice their relationship? Will Anarkali stand by her man?

The movie explores these questions with scenes of high drama, tension, and the growing passion between Anarkali and Salim. Of course the script takes the usual liberties with history that dramatic productions do because when it comes to fiction and poetry, it's the emotional side of the story that carries the plot and develops the characters.

The film features sumptuous examples of Mughal archicture, clothing, and crafts, such as the Amber Fort in Jaipur and the Sheesh Mahal (Palace of Mirrors, which actually was built by later emperor). Craftspeople from across northern Indian were brought in to create the period costumes, jewelry, weaponry, and tapestry featured throughout the film. And when a defiant Anarkali sings (via playback singer Lata Mangeshkar) her signature song "Pyar Kiya tho Darna Kiya" ("I have loved, what is there to fear?") the director used the hundreds of mirrors in the Sheesh Mahal to full effect (here's the scene, with English subtitles. I love Kapoor's portrayal of Akbar's rage at Anarkali's 'tude and Madhubala's wonderful acting through dance).

Both Dilip Kumar and Madhubala were big stars so their roles guarenteed box office success. And it wasn't just their performances that drew in the audiences—underlying issues in the actors' personal lives also underscored the movie's dramatic tension. Madhubala's stellar performance was made additionally poignant by her struggles with the heart problem that would force her to leave acting and pass away at 36. Her performance in Mughal-e-Azam won her the respect of the critics but at a price—the grueling filming schedule worsened her physical health.

And on top of that, Madhubala and Kumar had a tempestuous relationship that ended after six years and before the film was completed. Imagine filming intensely emotional scenes with your ex. Now that's some job stress!

Other notables: the film is performed in Urdu, a language used for poetry and declaration, giving the drama another dimension. And as for the B&W vs. color, well, it's like colorizing classic movies in general. Either you like it or you don't. I liked the original combination of B&W dialogue scenes with the dance and music in color, for the Wizard of Oz effect of moving into another realm, in this case, another realm of emotion.

With its elaborate sets, impassioned acting, creative dance sequences, and skill in evoking a rich historical era, Mughal-e-Azam is a timeless film.

More about the historical Anarkali

Movie Review: Saawariya

Year of release: 2007
Language: Hindi/English (DVD has subtitles)
Starring: Ranbir Kapoor, Sonam Kapoor, Salman Khan, and Zohra Sehgal

Saawariya (Beloved) is Hollywood glitz 'n' glam wrapped around a Bollywood love dream that trails through your mind like silk through fingers. Dazzling colors illuminate the velvet corners of imagination as director Sanjay Leela Bhansali creates his unique adaptation of the Dostoevsky short story "White Nights."

Boyish, Beatle mop-topped Ranbir Raj (Ranbir Kapoor), a wandering musician, arrives in a surreal, fairy-tale town with narrow, crooked streets, fantastic houses, and canals. His sweetness and charm win the attention of Gulabji (Rani Mukherjee), the world-weary red district worker (who partially narrates the film) and his openness melts a crusty old landlady's heart (veteran actress Zohra Sehgal). Then, one night, he sees Sakina (Sonam Kapoor), a lovely woman standing on a bridge, huddled under a black umbrella, gazing out over the water with a melancholy expression. Intrigued, Raj approaches her. And what follows is a tale of tangled love and longing.

Raj loves Sakina, but Sakina loves Imaan, (a broody, mojo-workin' Salman Khan), and is waiting for him to return from….well, where ever he is. Imaan isn't into divulging details about his comings and goings. He's the lone wolf to Raj's puppy dog and Sakina pines for him in true Gothic Heroine style. Meanwhile, Gulabji observes the action, somewhat removed, holding herself back until the movie's central musical number, which Rani Mukherjee owns. Later, she also makes a decision about just how close she wants to get to Raj.

A comparison can be been made to Moulin Rouge but that's not quite accurate. The costumes are colorful in contrast to the smoky blues, greys, and blacks of the background sets, but they're not garish. The pace and feel are dreamier, gentler, not as frantic.

There are some missteps: the dialogue sometimes borders on the cheesy, and at over two hours, the movie's pace drags in the third act—it feels like it takes Sakina forever to make up her mind which man she'd rather be with. Also, it's never stated where this town is supposed to be. There are references to Eid, the Muslim holiday signaling the end of Ramadan, the architecture is vaguely north Indian with hints of Venice and New York. There's also a reference to the classic, epic film set in the Mughal Empire era, Mughal e-Azam (released in 1960, then re-released colorized in 2004).

Nonetheless: Saawariya is a gorgeous visual symphony wrapped around a love melody and another good rainy Saturday afternoon popcorn flick.

Movie Review: Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam

Thanks to YouTube, I've fallen in love with Indian cinema.

Before user-shared media, my exposure to Indian film was limited to campus film festivals, the occasional PBS documentary, and world music compilations. The history and complexity of the music and customs of India always interested me. Then one day I entered "Asha Bhosle" (a name I gleaned from one of my CDs and one of Bollywood's most famous playback singers) into the YouTube search engine and wow--clip after fantastic clip appeared. I watched--and watched--and couldn't get enough.

What makes Indian film in all its varieties so engaging, whether Bollywood, Kollywood, Tollywood, or arthouse lies in the way these films blend classical poetry, references from the great epics, folk customs, dance, costume design based on traditional clothing, and eye-popping color. And on top of that mix, Indian films have heart.

Bollywood, the movies made in Mumbai, has been moving slowly into the Western mainstream, in part due to joint ventures like Bride and Predjudice and the international stardom of actress Aishwarya Rai, the female lead in today's review of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (translated for Englishs-speaking audiences as Straight From the Heart). Although Bride and Predjudice is often recommended as an intro to the Bollywood sensiblity, I feel Straight from the Heart is a better choice.

The basics: Nandini (Rai) is the daughter of a well-known classical music scholar. Sameer(Salman Khan) arrives from Italy to study with the professor and flirts with Nandini who, reserved at first, then responds. However, her parents prefer another suitor: the level-headed, quiet lawyer Vanraj (Ajay Devgan) and her father puts the kibosh on her budding romance with Sameer. What follows is a classic love triangle story in which Nandini must choose between the high-spirited and passionate Sameer and the sober and responsible Vanraj. Her quest leads to a journey to Italy to reuinite with Sameer and determine which love is best for her.

At three hours, Straight from the Heart is a glossy trip into the beautiful scenery and architecture of Rajathsan and through Nandini's emotional journey. It has that "rainy Saturday afternoon" kind of feeling which makes you want to curl up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and let the story take you on a cathartic journey. Rai does excellent work illustrating Nandini's maturation, Khan is exuberant and boyish as Sameer, and Devgan shines as the generous, patient Vanraj.

Also of interest is the appearance of Helen, the actress who plays 's mother. Helen was a Bollywood dancer star in the 1960s and the subject of an interesting Merchant-Ivory documentary, Helen, Queen of the Nautch Girls. Good to see the filmmakers honoring her and Bollywood history with this cameo role. And in her mid-60s, she's still graceful, which makes me want to get back to yoga class.

There are parts of the movie that are uneven, including some abrupt switches from comedy to drama and the use of Budapest for the scenes set in Rome (I guess it was more affordable to film there). Still, no big matter in light of an otherwise magical mix. Straight From the Heart is a great introduction to Bollywood: colorful, fun, and sweet with a Broadway meets Bollywood exuberance.

The movie also generated the hit song, "Nimbooda," during Nandini performs a dance to the song at a wedding and captures the attention of Vanraj (w/English subtitles).