It is interesting how the English language approximates these two particular words, “God” and “Dog”. Actually, “approximate” might not be the ideal term, as one word effectively mirrors the other, but the matter of fact is that I keep referring to Kornél Mundruczó’s movie as “White Dog”. I can either believe that I am inherently dyslexic, or that, in this particular case, this is no coincidence. After seeing this brilliant movie, I am more inclined to believe in the latter.
Actors turning into film directors is nothing new, nor particularly remarkable. However, something seemed peculiar about Ryan Gosling taking control of the camera (and the pen since he also wrote the screenplay). Gosling is a bit of a wild-card as an actor. He definitely has a presence on screen, but one that gains actual substance when channeling an inner, speechless anger. Refn’s Drive might be the most obvious example (along with the misstep that was his Only God Forgives), as well as Derek Cianfrance The Place Beyond the Pines. But even in the fantastically underrated Blue Valentine, from the same director, a powerful, angry, frustration seems to emanate from his physical presence. And yet, somehow when the guy speaks, that effect seems to be lost, his voice unnecessarily languid or gritty, unsubtly ruining what his eyes and body posture had been setting up all along. Hence my curiosity: upon finding his “voice” as a director, which side of Gosling would we be seeing?
Human relationships seem to be governed by specific and unknown laws of entropy, which dictate the rhythms of bodies coming together and drifting apart, very much like the physical particles assembled in their bodies and minds. November 19th of the current year marks the departure of one these macro particles. This is not an obituary (dear lord, far from that) for Mike Nichols, but a brief reflection about the work of someone that seemed to me to be interested in exploring some of the aforementioned laws.
“What is the point?”
This question, as old as human nature, ties up the movie in a colorful damp bow. Posed so many times, answered in so many different ways, Boyhood is Richard Linklater’s attempt of both interpreting the question and provide for a non-answer to it. The setup is rather trivial: Mason Jr. (Ellar Coltrane) is the central character of a dispersed and nomad family, with a father (Mason Sr, played by an ever childishly charming Ethan Hawke) infrequently present (and his “replacements” come and go), always jumping from place to place, home to home, with his mother (Olivia, Patricia Arquette) and sister (Samantha, Lorelei Linklater). We follow the childhood and teenage years of Mason Jr. as he deals with the pains of growing up and figuring out… let’s say, “stuff”. Continue reading
The Friction Factor 