joel_wbs

This film is NOT a period piece -- nor is it supposed to be one! Anyone who proceeds from this assumption was obviously not paying attention to the film. First off, the sniper in the film is not named Charles Whitman, but WALT Whitman.

Anyone panning this imaginative film based on it being "poorly researched" (as does the comment immediately before this one) tells us more about his ability to comprehend information than he does about the movie itself.

Instead, DELICATE ART OF THE RIFLE tells us much about the nature of reality. Launching from Shakespeare's line about all the world being a stage, the film then goes on to expand upon this metaphor by suggesting that most of the things that affect the world lurk behind the scenes; and as in the theatre, most of what happens on stage is affected by things that are invisible.

This movie is Robert Altman's musical/dance film. It has many elements of a conventional musical/dance film (e.g., 42nd STREET) -- the dancer who's injured the night of the performance, backstage romantic betrayals, and a passionate, driven director -- but nothing here happens quite the way we'd expect. The betrayal takes place before the movie's narrative even begins; the passionate, driven director isn't a hard-drinking chain smoker (when we first see him, he's eating a salad); and the injured-dancer crisis is handled as a matter of routine -- twice -- with drama, but without melodramatics.

Just like in jazz, where classic themes (such as "My Funny Valentine") can be endlessly updated and ever-interesting, so Altman plays upon variations of themes found in the musical/dance film. Altman even does this to the film's main musical theme, which happens to be "My Funny Valentine" itself (which is performed by Chet Baker, Elvis Costello, and the Kronos Quartet -- amongst others). The theme serves as a metaphor for the love affair between Ry and her boyfriend -- which in turn serves as a metaphor for Antonelli's love of dance, which can then be seen as a metaphor for Altman's own love of film.

Just listen to the lyrics: "You look so laughable, unphotographable, but you're my favorite work of art."

Just as Antonelli looks for something outside of "phony, lyrical ballet", so does Altman look for something outside of phony, "well-crafted" film making. This aspect of Ry's new boyfriend is what she finds so appealing in him. He's not a dancer. While her fellow company member friends gracefully perform dance moves even while doing something so common as bowling, he, however, falls flat on his face. Both of them are injured on-the-job. They each are perfect through their imperfections; and it's these imperfections that they ultimately find fascinating.

Anybody who knows Altman knows that accidents and imperfections are what fascinates him. He often says about directing, "How can I tell the performers what I want to see, when what I want to see is something I've never seen before." To Altman, mistakes are more interesting than things that happen just as expected.

I've noticed that there are a lot of people who missed this point in the film. Maybe they would be more happy with the "phony, lyrical ballet".

(contains slight spoilers)

It's interesting how Anthony Mann uses James Stewart here. Stewart is, of course, remembered by many as George Bailey from Frank Capra's "It's a Wonderful Life", so it's easy to find parallels between the two films. In "It's a Wonderful Life", Bailey gets to see the world as it would have been if he had never been born. In "The Far Country", Stewart's Jeff Webster, by not getting involved to help anyone else (except himself), gets to see essentially the same thing: A world in which he (for all practical matters) doesn't exist.

By not getting involved (and by attempting not to care about anyone), Webster is forced to see those for whom he can't help but care get hurt, pushed around, and even killed while he stands by and does nothing. This reminds the viewer of George Bailey watching a world that has turned upside-down because he has also decided not to get involved by not ever having been born.

Both movies end with the same image - a close-up of a ringing bell. Stewart, by turning around his philosophy of non-involvement, has, it would seem, earned his "wings".

some plot details revealed below

The storyline to RABBIT PROOF FENCE is quiet simple. The government takes three girls - half aboriginal, half white - away from their mother to train them to become domestic servants. The oldest of the three decides to escape back home while taking the other two with her.

This film succeeds due to the astute choices of the director, Phillip Noyce. The goal of most of his camera and lens choices is to help us understand what the oldest girl, Molly, is thinking. Usually, a combination of hand held cameras and mise-en-scene is used to achieve this goal.

The director also seems inspired by David Lean's LAWRENCE OF ARABIA. One example is a scene which starts with a hand held camera walking toward the rising sun with no humans in the frame. Then, one by one, the girls appear from the left of the camera silhouetted by the sunlit sky. (The inclusion of the song "The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo" into the film seems to be Noyce's acknowledgement of LAWRENCE's influence. It was this song which T.E. Lawrence sang to himself while travelling alone after his guide had been shot dead.)

Speaking of music, Peter Gabriel's score was magnificent at heightening the mood of each scene without becoming intrusive. He collaborated well with the musicians who frequent his Real World Studios to give the film a score that seemed to fit well with the landscapes and the thoughts of the indigenous people.

My only criticism is that I never really thought that things would not turn out all right. I was confident that Molly knew what she was doing, and that she would escape successfully. Maybe this is due to Noyce's obvious choice in keeping the film from becoming maudlin or melodramatic - which is a good thing. I'd rather watch a film low on suspense than one which tries to manipulate my emotions because it fears that it will lose my interest or approval.

possible spoilers below (but I doubt it :)

This is a stunning film that pulls no punches. It will not appeal to all.

Is the movie violent? Yes, but not violent for only the sake of violence. To demonstrate my point, let's compare the opening scene in "Gangs" to that of "Saving Private Ryan".

Although overwhelmingly regarded to be an outstanding battle scene, "Ryan" seems to morbidly dwell on a catalogue of deaths and killings. It documents one after the other after the other from an objective point of view. Scorsese's battle scene, on the other hand, is much more subjective. We can feel what it is like to be in the middle of the battle, because everything - bodies, limbs, faces - blurs together. We can hardly recognize who's killing or being killed at times. We are confused, and that's what is so terrifying about hand-to-hand combat like this: You don't know who's coming up behind you as you are killing somebody else.

In Spielberg's film, we know what it's like to see from a third person perspective someone getting killed in a brutal battle. In Scorsese's, we know what it's like to *be* in a brutal battle. This scene in "Gangs" is much like the impressionistic snowball fight scene that opens Abel Gance's "Napoleon", with a notable exception being, of course, that "Gangs" opens with no mere snowball fight.

In short, while Spielberg is intent on documenting facts, Scorsese is more concerned with (as F.W. Murnau would describe it) photographing *thought*. While in the first case we might sometimes wonder if we are just seeing some interesting special effects, the second case leaves no doubt about it: The violence is there because these are violent times.

At the root of this battle is a power struggle between races. The Irish want to take part in the American dream, but the Butcher will not allow them. He considers himself to be a "true" American, and the name of his gang reflects this.

An interesting thing about "Gangs" is that by going back early enough in history, Scorsese is able to document events that we can recognize in other American genre's that appear throughout the history of film.

Most obvious is the gangster film. The power collaboration (as well as struggle) between the Butcher and Tweed is a precursor to that which we see in films like "The Godfather".

Also, as the Irish are coming off the ships, become American citizens, and immediately are recruited to join the Army, we can sense that some of these men would go on to be much like the Irish sergeants which John Ford would feature in most (if not all) of his westerns.

Finally, just as D.W. Griffith's epic depicted the Birth of a Nation - i.e., before the Civil War, many Americans did not consider themselves to be all from *one* nation, but instead from a *state* that was one in a *union* of states - Scorsese's epic depicts the Birth of New York City; the melting pot it would become and pride itself on being.

In one scene, the Butcher comments what a confused and terrible place the country is becoming when he sees a black man dancing an Irish jig. He considers this to be a summary of what is going wrong with the country. We, of course, see the same thing and consider this merging of cultures to be what makes our country so great. We our witnessing the Birth of our Nation.

Finally, as with most movies, leave your watch at home. Allow yourself to be lost in the movie, and you're more likely to enjoy it without fretting over details such as the running length, or who's playing what role. Don't come to see Leonardo. Don't come to see Cameron Diaz. And don't stay away because they *are* there. Come to see the story, and all will be fine.