Rob Reiner's Flipped represents a nostalgic, PG-rated filmmaking which hasn't been seen in a long, long time, and for this reason I wanted to like it much more than I did. After all, I might have a penchant for dark, complex adult stories, but like everyone else I'm a sucker for a cute kid. The two stars of Flipped are likable and look like they were plucked straight from a Sears catalogue. Bryce Lowski (Callan McAuliffe, who's a native Australian but you'd never know from his flawless accent) and Juli Baker (Madeline Caroll, not to be confused with the 30s Hitchcock blonde) are two kids in the 1960s who fall in love at very different times. Their opposite dreams, families and way of life create multiple misunderstandings over the years, not to mention convenient plot devices.
There really is a lot to like about this movie: The adult actors are in top form, particularly Aidan Quinn as Juli's artist father, full of naturalism and strength that reminds me so much of Gregory Peck. The kids are likable, though I never thought Caroll made Juli's activist passion believable enough (the girl refuses to come down a condemned tree a la Julia Butterfly Hill). The biggest problem, and alas what ultimately makes the film sink, is the script, which is clearly a cut-and-dry adaptation of Wendelin Van Draanen's young adult novel. The reliance on showing both perspectives of this love/hate relationship for nearly every single scene is what causes a 45-minute movie to be agonizingly stretched out into a 90-minute feature length movie; it's like a puppy-love Rashomon but without the excitement. And when taxing the awkward scenes of adult seriousness which seem to be from another movie (ever since Mad Men debuted, the 60s are no longer safe when it comes to exploiting family values) and the need to have John Mahoney as Bryce's father come in to churn wisdom, Flipped ultimately amounts to a movie that never trusts its audience enough to let them really understand and like the characters, in the same manner in which Juli and Bryce never seem to be able to fully appreciate the other until the unbearably predictable and obvious final scene.
Because she knew an actor's face--particularly a fearless one such as Swanson herself--had the power to open the door to a world of contradicting, complex emotions. It's funny that in a world where editing is getting quicker and quicker by the year (my own YouTube fan videos make me a hypocritical lemming of this fad), the most affecting scenes I think of when I think of truly memorable cinematic moments are the ones where the camera lingers on an actor's face for an extended period of time (and probably a tripod as well).
Why?
I can't come up with a particularly satisfying answer to that question, except the one that satisfies me: because although the recent box-office hits don't conform to this hypothesis, I believe that characters should drive the plot of a film forward and not the other way around, and thus an actor's face is the most valuable instrument one can use in this situation, even more so than any brilliant piece of dialouge.
So here are the most moving moments in film where I can watch on mute because every actor is performing at the highest level one can possibly achieve: they are understanding the camera, and using it to their fullest potential.
The Film: Queen Christina
The Actress: Greta Garbo
The Moment: The final scene
Why It's Great: Greta Garbo may be the most notorious enigma in Hollywood history, and this scene is a confirmation of that. This moment captures everything that made Garbo legendary: her beauty, her aloofness, and above all her awareness of the camera (I mean that as a compliment). It's been reported that the director Rouben Mamoulian told her to make a blank face and let the audience color outside the lines based on their own opinions of the prior 97 minutes. As for me, I see a woman smiling as she looks into the hopefulness of a new chapter in her life--and great potential for a sequel that sadly never materialized.
The Film: The Passion of Joan of Arc
The Actress: Maria Falconetti
The Moment: The whole damn film.
Why it's great: Most actors earn praise for putting their whole body into a role, but Falconetti is an exception because we rarely see below her neck; the entire film is, more or less, close-ups of this one-of-a-kind actress giving the only notable screen performance of her career, and of all time. We witness her maturity from a scared, terrified teen to a woman understanding and accepting her fate as God's choice in startling clarity because Falconetti's huge eyes do all the talking in Dreyer's silent masterpiece.
The Film: The Godfather Part II
The Actor: Al Pacino
The Moment: The very last shot
Why It's Great: It was a fateful day in September--September 11th, 2008, to be exact--when my friend Cecilia and I ditched school to take a bus to San Francisco's legendary Castro Theatre to see one of our favorite films on the big screen, restored and at the best movie palace we have still ever known. I remember the big blue wool sweater I was wearing, that I had a bad cold, that there was a very brief audio glitch early on during Pacino's delivery of the line, "Now, the price of a gaming license it less than $20,000," which was so perfect it was as though a professional had censored it out. Most vividly, however, was the memory of witnessing the final scene in all its glory, of watching this man slowly push away, watch die, or kill everyone who could truly love him, and of literally forgetting to breathe when the close-up revealed this man's damnation to hell. If there's one reason why The Godfather Part III is deemed unworthy, it's because this last shot is the real ending Michael deserves, and finally got.
The Film:Zodiac
The Actor: Jimmi Simpson
The Moment: "The last time I saw that face was July 4th, 1969. I'm *very* sure that's the man who shot me."
Why It's Great: I have seen this scene far more times than I have seen David Fincher's film all the way through, perhaps obsessively so, and every time it has given me shivers down the spine. Every. Time. I'm still struggling to find the exact words as to why it makes such a dent on me, and the biggest reason is because when Mike Mageau identifies Arthur Lee Allen as the infamous Zodiac killer, it's a moment which would be the biggest closure when in fact it's anything but: Allen suffered a fatal heart attack before his arrest could be made, and later DNA evidence did not match Allen as the Zodiac killer. Mageau's haunted eyes put a face on the dreadful feeling of the film: That every determination was met by a dead end, that innocence could never be brought back, and finally the incredible hopelessness of Fincher's world.
The Film:Ace in the Hole The Actor: Kirk Douglas The Moment: Overhearing the Last Rites Why It's Great: For the last 90 minutes, we have been treated to a cookie full of arsenic courtesy of director Billy Wilder and his alter-ego, Chuck Tatum, at once the most diabolical, cynical and truthful of all Wilder's concoctions. From the first scene where disgraced journalist Chuck rides in on a towed car, he establishes himself as the smartest and filthiest person in any room, which includes the dusty cave where Leo Minosa, a helpless explorer, lays trapped as Chuck milks the story for all it's worth. It is only when Leo's health begins to fail him does Chuck really try to save him and do something morally right for once. As he overhears Leo give his last rites to a priest, Chuck's eyes fill with something finally resembling tears, sorrow and remorse. Without an ounce of sentimentality both from Wilder and Douglas, we too realize that this man has a heart, however many moments far too late to make it worthwhile.
The Film: They Live by Night The Actress: Cathy O'Donnell The Moment: The final fade-out. Why It's Great: Nicholas Ray's debut film is full of daring, often brilliant touches which establish the beginning of a born filmmaker. From the very first shot, of two lovers gazing into each other's eyes (just before the first-ever helicopter shot in film history), we are aware that this will be one of the most poetically romantic of all film noirs. The very last scene serves a sad bookend of this elegiac opening shot: Instead of two lovers, only one will remain by the film's end (since this is a film noir I don't feel a huge amount of guilt from this spoiler since it is all but etched in its genre). The look on Keechie's face as she realizes how much she loves Bowie is enough to melt any cynic's heart, and proves that Nicholas Ray's films would always begin and end with the characters he fiercely sympathized with as though they were his children, his siblings, or himself.
The Film:Casablanca The Actress: Ingrid Bergman The Moment: "Sing it, Sam." Why It's Great: I am in the minority who not only believes the script to Casablanca is *not* the greatest of all time, it is also incredibly overrated. One nagging flaw I have with it is how underwritten the character of Ilsa Lund is (does her dialogue honestly consist of anything more than saying how much she loves Rick and Viktor?), and it's probably the main reason why Ingrid Bergman was less than enthused to be part of this film. But Ingrid's proof of her incredible greatness was her ability to turn an insignificant part into the film's emotional center, the acting equivalent of turning water into wine. No moment best demonstrates this than the moment when Ilsa listens to that old love song, and the memories come flashing back. She barely moves a centimeter on her face, and yet she slowly but surely reveals the depths of a woman full of love and regret and longing, before we are even presented with a flashback montage of Ilsa's happiness with Rick in pre-war Paris. And you have to ask yourself, "Who wouldn't take this woman back?"
The Film:It's a Wonderful Life The Actors: Donna Reed and James Stewart The Moment: The Phone Scene Why It's Great: There are many a logical reason why romances today seem to be lacking in a certain chemistry between the two stars; my own personal reason is because films have become less economic with editing; we always cut from reaction shot to over-the-shoulder shot back to reaction shot, which serve more to keep up with our ever-decreasing attention span than helping us understand why these two people should be together. In Capra's magnum opus, the centerpiece to long-suffering George and sweetheart Mary's romance is an extended sequence which remains uncut for nearly 2 whole minutes as they listen on the same phone as an old friend talks on the other line. What he talks about could hardly make any difference to the audience, or to the couple; they are too caught up in the conflicting emotions they feel for each other, as well as the forced feeling that this tight shot creates (not long before they had quarreled, so the friction only adds to their chemistry), where George is so close he can literally smell her hair. There are, quite simply, fewer moments in any film where you can simply look at any still shot from this moment and understand that these two people are deeply in love and almost feel their burning desire as well as their reluctance to admit their true feelings, for marrying Mary would confine George to his entire existence in Bedford Falls, the town he desperately wants to leave. This passion can only erupt sooner rather than later, and when it does, it's sexier than most sex scenes, more romantic than most melodramas, and better than anything Frank Capra ever created.
