Theatrics slapstick and cheer are cinematic qualities you rarely find outside the realm of animation. Disney perfected it with their pantheon of cartoon classics mixing music humor spectacle and light-hearted drama that swept up children while still capturing the imaginations and hearts of their parents. But these days even reinterpretations of fairy tales get the gritty make-over leaving little room for silliness and unfiltered glee. Emerging through that dark cloud is Mirror Mirror a film that achieves every bit of imagination crafted by its two-dimensional predecessors and then some. Under the eye of master visualist Tarsem Singh (The Fall Immortals) Mirror Mirror's heightened realism imbues it with the power to pull off anything — and the movie never skimps on the anything.
Like its animated counterparts Mirror Mirror stays faithful to its source material but twists it just enough to feel unique. When Snow White (Lily Collins) was a little girl her father the King ventured into a nearby dark forest to do battle with an evil creature and was never seen or heard from again. The kingdom was inherited by The Queen (Julia Roberts) Snow's evil stepmother and the fair-skinned beauty lived locked up in the castle until her 18th birthday. Grown up and tired of her wicked parental substitute White sneaks out of the castle to the village for the first time. There she witnesses the economic horrors The Queen has imposed upon the people of her land all to fuel her expensive beautification. Along the way Snow also meets Prince Alcott (Armie Hammer) who is suffering from his own money troubles — mainly being robbed by a band of stilt-wearing dwarves. When the Queen catches wind of the secret excursion she casts Snow out of the castle to be murdered by her assistant Brighton (Nathan Lane).
Fairy tales take flack for rejecting the idea of women being capable but even with its flighty presentation and dedication to the old school Disney method Mirror Mirror empowers its Snow White in a genuine way thanks to Collins' snappy charming performance. After being set free by Brighton Snow crosses paths with the thieving dwarves and quickly takes a role on their pilfering team (which she helps turn in to a Robin Hooding business). Tarsem wisely mines a spectrum of personalities out of the seven dwarves instead of simply playing them for one note comedy. Sure there's plenty of slapstick and pun humor (purposefully and wonderfully corny) but each member of the septet stands out as a warm compassionate companion to Snow even in the fantasy world.
Mirror Mirror is richly designed and executed in true Tarsem-fashion with breathtaking costumes (everything from ball gowns to the dwarf expando-stilts to ridiculous pirate ship hats with working canons) whimsical sets and a pitch-perfect score by Disney-mainstay Alan Menken. The world is a storybook and even its monsters look like illustrations rather than photo-real creations. But what makes it all click is the actors. Collins holds her own against the legendary Julia Roberts who relishes in the fun she's having playing someone despicable. She delivers every word with playful bite and her rapport with Lane is off-the-wall fun. Armie Hammer riffs on his own Prince Charming physique as Alcott. The only real misgiving of the film is the undercooked relationship between him and Snow. We know they'll get together but the journey's half the fun and Mirror Mirror serves that portion undercooked.
Children will swoon for Mirror Mirror but there's plenty here for adults — dialogue peppered with sharp wisecracks and a visual style ripped from an elegant tapestry. The movie wears its heart on its sleeve and rarely do we get a picture where both the heart and the sleeve feel truly magical.
One of the secrets to the success of Francis Ford Coppola is the legendary sound and film editor Walter Murch. Murch did the sound and/or film editing on all of The Godfather movies, American Graffiti, The Conversation, Apocalypse Now, Jarhead and The English Patient, to name just a few. He’s the only person to be nominated for an Oscar for editing different films using four different editing systems, the first person to win an Oscar for editing with a digital system, and the only person to win two Oscars on one film for both sound mixing and film editing.
He’s a rock star, and when he’s rocking the hardest, nobody notices his work. Here’s an example:
In the famous sequence in The Godfather where Michael kills Sollozzo and McKlusky, Francis Ford Coppola wanted no sound at all. In any other Hollywood movie of the time (or this time) that sequence would be the time for super suspenseful music to jack up the audience. Coppola wanted to open up a sonic void in which the audience would squirm just as much as Michael. Murch agreed with the bold decision, but when he played the scene without sound it just didn’t feel right.
In his book about editing, In the Blink of an Eye, Murch makes a list of the six most important factors when making editing a film. Things like 'continuity of space' and 'tracing the viewer’s eye movement', usually considered the most essential parts of editing, don’t even make it into the top three. At the top is 'emotion.' According to Walter Murch, the most important factor in whether or not to keep a cut is the degree to which it gets the audience feeling the way the film needs to make the audience to feel.
Following that principle, Murch did something absurd. When Michael goes into the bathroom to get the gun, Murch mixed in the sound of an elevated train. Not only are there no visual references to an elevated train anywhere near the restaurant, the volume of the rumble is way too loud for what one might hear in the bathroom. It makes no logical sense. What the sound does, however, is emphasize the silence that precedes and follows it. Murch repeats this sound trick decades later in Sam Mendes’ Iraq war movie Jarhead, when the silence following the explosion of a mortar shell is set off by the delicate sound of falling sand.
Murch has that kind of touch.
Here’s another story from The Godfather:
Coppola hired Nino Rota to compose the score that would become iconic in film history. Rota had scored films by folks like Frederico Fellini, Luchino Visconti, and Franco Zeffereli – the man was high cinema royalty in Italy and around the world. Naturally when our old friend Robert Evans heard the score mixed over an early cut of the movie, and hated it. He’d heard Italian composer and expected something like the American Henry Mancini, who composed the Pink Panther theme and won an Academy Award for “Moon River” from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. A brilliant composer, to be sure, but an ocean away from the deeply classical and fully ethnic work of Nino Rota.
Coppola left Murch to deal with the situation. Murch, true to his character, let Evans talk it all out until he got to one specific sticking point: in the scene where studio head Jack Woltz discovers the head of his prize racehorse in his bed, Rota, at Coppola’s suggestion, had scored a beautiful waltz. Evans thought this was just too much.
So what did Murch do?
Murch ordered a second recording of Rota’s score. Then he played the two tracks just out of sync, tracking the A track over the B track in the ABA structure of the waltz, creating a beautiful, haunting effect Rota had never intended. Go back and watch that scene again, but close your eyes and just listen to it. When you really hear the melodies scraping up against one another, you can get an appreciation for the strange brilliance of Murch’s choice, and the way that it aids in creating the tension and horror of the scene.
That’s the kind of thing Walter Murch brought to all of Coppola’s early films. Without Murch, there is no Coppola. You’ll hear more about Murch as we move through The Conversation and a whole lot more when we get to Apocalypse Now, a movie that Murch contributed so much to they had to invent the title “Sound Designer” just to wrap their heads around his accomplishment.
If you’re curious about the art of editing and the fascinating brain of Walter Murch, check out a book called The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film, in which novelist Michael Ondaatje talks with Murch about his work.
Next week we return to a trip through the work of Francis Ford Coppola with The Conversation, wherein we will meet a very, very young Harrison Ford.
When we last saw our favorite carrot-top psycho toy at the end of 1998's deliciously campy Bride of Chucky his wife Tiffany (voiced by Jennifer Tilly) had just given birth to a razor-toothed baby and as with every Chucky movie the dolls return to being dolls again. The demon seed has since been abducted by a British ventriloquist who names him Shithead keeps him in a cage and forces him to compete for the ventriloquism world championship. The gender-confused androgynous child (voiced by Billy Boyd)--who looks like the bastard child of The Lord of the Rings' Gollum and Ziggy Stardust--finds out that a movie is being made in Hollywood about his parents. The gentle soul escapes mails himself to the set and "reanimates" his parents by reading an ancient voodoo inscription on his necklace. After a quick inspection of their child's Barbie-doll crotch fails to settle the gender conundrum Chucky and Tiffany name it Glen-Glenda (a nod to hack director Ed Wood) and begin to bludgeon set folk. Tiffany is flattered that her favorite actress Jennifer Tilly is playing her in the movie and they devise a plan to capture the Oscar nominee and impregnate her with yes the seed of Chucky. Will Glen-Glenda take up the family vocation and help turkey-baste Tilly and eviscerate everyone in sight or will Papa Chucky push the troubled tyke one bloody step too far?
You can thank or blame Jennifer Tilly for reinvigorating this series when she shamelessly hammed it up in Bride of Chucky as Tiffany's human form. Here she takes it one step further by playing an exaggerated (we hope) caricature of herself and someone should hand her an award for her spirited self-deprecation. She bites into the opportunity with demented gusto as she endures cracks about her weight airy voice promiscuity and career relevance. "I should have played Erin Brokovich--I could have done it without the Wonderbra " she seethes about Julia Roberts to Redman the "rapper/director" who is thinking about casting Roberts as the Virgin Mary in his biblical flick. To change his mind Tilly uses her home as a casting couch and brings Redman over for some very un-virginal antics. As the two sip champagne and nibble on each other the rapper admits that his favorite Tilly flick is Bound. "Bound? Yeah everyone loves that one " she coos. "Me and Gina [Gershon] are very close friends. Gee maybe the three of us could hang out." Tilly's personal assistant tells her that she's going to hell for putting out to play the Virgin Mary. "Hell " says Tilly "would be ending up on Celebrity Fear Factor in a worm-eating contest with Anna Nicole Smith." It's in these moments when Tilly takes jabs at herself and Hollywood that you wish someone would cast her in more comedies pronto. In the other roles Billy Boyd makes ambiguously sexual Glen-Glenda almost sympathetic A Dirty Shame director John Waters expertly plays a slimy paparazzo and Redman just looks well confused about whether he should play it straight or follow Tilly over the top.
Writer Don Mancini who penned the entire Chucky oeuvre steps up to the director's plate for the first time with Seed. From the title sequence which features animated doll sperm racing through a vagina it is apparent that this is going to be another unapologetic unabashed camp encounter of the crass kind. It's never once scary or even suspenseful but Mancini isn't shy about spilling gore for shock value like the steaming disembowelment of Redman or John Waters' sulfuric acid-eaten face. He gets laughs as Glen struggles with his parents' killing addiction which culminates in an inevitable Baby Jane makeover and subsequent conniption. Pop-culture and movie refs abound such as when Chucky hacks through a door with an ax a la The Shining and "can't think of anything to say." Some jokes fall flat like when Chucky runs a Britney Spears look-alike's car over a cliff and he utters "Oops I did it again " but we appreciate mean-spirited ridicule of banal pop blips nonetheless.