130 - The Queen review

"Sleeping in the streets and pulling out their hair for someone they never knew. And they think we're mad!" Prince Philip (James Cromwell) vents to his wife, Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren). Diana, Princess of Wales, has just died in a car wreck, and the British people are reacting as if their leader and messiah had kicked the bucket.

But Diana’s death isn’t the subject of "The Queen," nor is it primarily about Elizabeth. Instead of a biography, we have a delicate, thoughtful study of the way world’s most famous royal family has been forced to changed by a rapidly "modernizing" world. The family has lived in splendor that makes even a proud capitalist like myself wince, but their lives are far from easy, with a moral responsibility that would crush a god, but must be borne by a mere mortal.

Even as we know that the British monarchy doesn’t yield anywhere near the power that a typical Western head of state does, I was surprised to see how in many ways, they are at the virtual mercy of their subjects. The demise of Diana shakes the public to its core, but Elizabeth insists on treating the death like it would any other outside of the family; by doing and saying nothing.

Cold as it may seem at a glance, Elizabeth is following tradition, a set of rules strictly followed for hundreds of years before she was born. Nonetheless, the public, fueled by the notoriously vicious British press, demands concessions such as putting a flag half-mast over Buckingham Palace and a royal funeral, all for a woman who was no longer part of that family.

"The Queen" devotes time to the governmental aspect of the Diana crisis, with newly elected Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) working overtime to tread the thin line between an angry populace and the queen. His advisors lean leftward away from the monarchy, and even his wife (Helen McCroy) stops just short of directly disrespecting Elizabeth, an unthinkable act for her more conservative husband. Blair has no desire to see the monarchy damaged, but finds himself willing to pressure the queen to acquiesce to the national mood.

Throughout the film, one question kept popping into mind; how can the British citizens respect the monarchy yet demand it bend to satisfy their desires? Aren’t traditions and reserve two of the qualities that have endeared people to this fabulously privileged family? What worth does the monarchy have if they, like all other politicians in a democracy, have to dance to the tune of every idiot with a TV set?

These questions alarm Elizabeth, who contemplates them with a silent horror spelled out in her eyes. The film claims these few days represented the most potent threat to the monarchy in Elizabeth’s lifetime, with 1 in 4 polled Britons advocating the abolition of the institution. Even Blair remarks in amazement that after 45 years of dutifully fulfilling her role as sovereign, opinion turns on her over the death of a woman who was no longer a royal, had embarrassed the family to no end, and that Elizabeth likely despised.

The unfamiliar and the disinterested should beware as little to no background information on the family is given, and no attempt to please those who find the subject boring is made. Somewhat perplexing is the near complete lack of focus on the personal grief of Diana’s children, which could have slowed down the pace, but feels conspicuous with its absence. I went with a friend, no intellectual slouch, and he dozed off after about 15 minutes.

I, however, found the pace to be brisk and the narrative fascinating. We know that the monarchy doesn’t fall, but director Stephen Frears deftly enables a degree of suspense and curiosity to exist through the excellent performances, particularly Helen Mirren’s, which has already generated significant Oscar buzz (check out her profile on the IMDB for a good Oscar quote). I’m by no stretch an expert on the real Elizabeth, but if this film is indicative of her true character and will, then long live the queen.

3.5 out of 5

129 - The Fountain review

At long last, we have the newest film from Darren Aronofsky, and what a grand mess it is. For those not in the know, Aronofsky exploded onto the cinephile and film snob scene in 2000 with "Reqiuem for a Dream," a brilliant and harrowing look at four New York drug abusers. Right away, some lavished Aronofsky with the usual hollow compliments, using phrases like "the next" Scorsese, big thing, Messiah, whatever.

And after six years, we arrive at "The Fountain." I’d be happy to report that all of the hype has been realized and then some, but unfortunately, that would make me a liar. His third film certainly isn’t bad, but it is a convoluted, incomprehensible mishmash of time periods, trippy visuals, and themes that would likely be depressing if they weren’t so jumbled.

The plot stares deep into my eyes, daring me to attempt to describe it, and though I feel like shirking from my responsibility, here goes: Thomas (Hugh Jackman) exists in three different time periods; one as a 16th century conquistador, another as a 21st century scientist, and the third as a 26th century spaceman. I only know that 26th century part because the Internet Movie Database and Wikipedia tell me so; the film gives no indication that what we are watching is even supposed to occur outside of Thomas’ mind. He resembles a sort of Buddhist monk, floating towards a nebula in a clear orb populated only by him, a tree, and the ghost (or hallucination, or whatever) of Izzi (Rachel Weisz), his long dead wife. Cutting between each incarnation, the film chronicles Thomas’ quest to conquer death, not so much for himself, but for Izzi.

I can’t get much clearer than that. It’s a surreal, bizarre experience, a rumination on the folly of the quest for eternal life. No serious attempts are made to provide an explanation of the events and images presented to us; they appear, and we must process them to the best of our individual abilities. Fans of traditional or coherent narratives should go to "Casino Royale" instead, because this film quickly becomes an exercise in frustration for even the most open-minded audience member, more reminiscent of a looping video in an art gallery than a big-budget Hollywood multiplex filler. I was frequently reminded of David Lynch’s "Eraserhead," another art film that makes a point of being hard to digest. But while the off the wall weirdness of that 1976 black and white film plays like a beautiful, emotional song, "The Fountain" plays more like the thoughts of a schizophrenic struggling to translate his incoherent babbling into high art.

Incoherent as the film may be, it at least tries to be great, even if it doesn’t succeed. The same day I saw "The Fountain," I watched "Accepted" on DVD, an idiotic comedy of mind-numbing banality. It sharpened my appreciation for the sheer labor and thought put into "The Fountain," which at least gives relevancy a shot. Jackman’s performance injects a sadness into the role that many other actors couldn’t, and the reportedly CGI free special effects are impressive, if not somewhat meaningless.

Immediately after the film ended, I remarked to my editor "Darren Aronofsky thinks really highly of himself." My editor, a striking man of Herculean strength and Jeffersonian brilliance, aptly replied "That, or he thinks really highly of his audience." It was a good point, and one I am unsure of. Either way, I sense an overdose of arrogance; he either Aronofsky assumed that his audience was up to understanding his thoughts, or he reasoned that he was such a wunderkind that he could burn up the studio’s money any way he choose and get a pat on the back for it. Hopefully, Aronofsky’s next outing, assuming there is one, will provide many of the answers that this one was bereft of.

2.5 out of 5