Climb Aboard "The Sunset Limited"

One of the taglines for The Sunset Limited reads: “Two men. One room.” That’s a pretty accurate and comprehensive plot summary. Only HBO would take such a risk, virtually filming a 90-minute, one-act play with only two characters, and the reward is compelling drama.

One could explicate on that plot summary and say: “The Sunset Limited is a philosophical argument between an atheist college professor and a maintenance man who saved foiled his attempted suicide.” However, this summary invokes feelings of “been there, seen that.” Atheist vs. theist. Isn’t there enough of this on Fox News? (No, actually).

But if you haven’t seen The Sunset Limited, then you surely haven’t been there. Tommy Lee Jones directs the script by Cormac McCarthy (author of The Road and Blood Meridian) based on his own play. The players: Samuel L. Jackson as Black and Tommy Lee Jones as White. And that they are.

Another tagline insists that “nothing is ever black or white.” The film, set entirely in Black’s inner city apartment, wrestles with God, death, destiny, morality, character and nihilism. It’s basically McCarthy 101. But what sets this drama apart from a Tuesday night dorm room debate is McCarthy’s dialogue. With his characteristically dark tone, McCarthy once again challenges his audience to pan for a fleeting glimmer of hope at the play’s end.

Some critics claim that The Sunset Limited is just canned theatre; that TLJ didn’t open the play up enough for the big screen. While that’s partly true – no scenes are added, and like the play, the film’s attack point is after the attempted suicide – it would be a mistake to overlook TLJ’s work as a director. The screen veteran knows his way around a camera and while he doesn’t invent any new camera tricks, he manages to make two men arguing compelling enough for 90 minutes.

Of course, acting opposite Mace Windu doesn’t hurt. Jackson infuses Black with enough energy, wit and intelligence that he isn’t merely a good Samaritan. Similarly, Jones wears so much of White’s festering depression heavily under his eyes and over his mouth. His slouching stature shows that he is never quite comfortable among the living.

The Sunset Limited never goes much further than life and death. McCarthy himself once remarked that literature can only be valuable if it considers life and death. And consider he does. One could say he obsesses. But The Sunset Limited is compelling and the work of obsessive professionals at the height of their powers. And that leaves one happy to be aboard The Sunset Limited.

"The Illusionist" isn't magical

 “Magic can sometimes be just an illusion.”

Based on an unproduced original script from legendary French filmmaker Jacques Tati, The Illusionist in many ways rehashes the magic of the silent film era.

Directed by Sylvain Chomet (The Triplets of Belleville), The Illusionist is a picaresque following a French magician who travels to Scotland in search of work. There he meets and befriends a young woman, and their relationship changes both of their lives, for the better and for the worse.

The Illusionist wears its heritage on its sleeve. The films of Jacques Tati (born Tatischeff, the name of the protagonist in The Illusionist) often bordered on silent comedy. Characters rarely speak in The Illusionist, and when they do the dialogue is negligible. The result is a richly detailed blend of physical comedy and elaborate use of mise-en-scene.

The Illusionist harkens back to Tati’s onscreen persona Monsieur Hulot. He is a tall, thin Frenchman who smokes, carries an umbrella constantly and wears pants like he’s expecting a flood. Tatischeff’s posture, leaning forward with his arms extended back, meets its maker in a scene where he enters a cinema that is showing Mon Oncle.

Like Chaplin’s The Tramp, Tatischeff is a sad man, an outsider who wears his heart on his sleeve. His only flaws are his pathos and his tendency to fall madly in love. In both cases, the audience is invited to laugh with, and not at the social outcast.

However, The Illusionist feels unfinished, despite the script sitting on the shelf for 35 years. The ending is abrupt, and the humour, few and far between, feels unpolished. I was underprepared for the film’s sometimes dark tone and melancholy ending. While I embraced its silent-film format and resistance of animated film tropes (annoying characters, celebrity voices and an unending slew of pop culture references), I left the film disappointed. It’s quick and swift and does not overstay its welcome, but The Illusionist is perhaps too short. By the end of the 80 minute running time, I did not feel The Illusionist had fully explored Tatischeff’s quest to find an audience. His final crisis, finding a place in a world that does not believe in magic while he is the only one who does, reached its statis much too quickly for me.

In the final analysis, I would recommend The Illusionist because it is something different: a modern-day silent film, and an animated film that refuses to march in line with the others. But be prepared for the melancholy tone and feeling that The Illusionist, like its protagonist, never really connects with its audience.

2.5/4 or 3/5

2010: An Afterlife Odyssey

3.5/4 or 4/5

Enter the Void, the third film from French visionary director Gaspar Noe, is the film everyone wanted Inception to be: mind-bending, transcendent, mesmerizing.

While tough on the rear-end and not for the squeamish, Enter the Void tries to be a cinematic drug trip. Told entirely via POV of the main character, Oskar (Nathaniel Brown), the film follows Oskar’s soul as it floats through Tokyo watching over his sister (Paz de la Huerta) whom he promised never to leave. Beginning on the night of his death (no spoiler here, it happens at minute 35 of 163), we see the world from Oskar’s eyes on this side and the next. The middle of the film provides the end-of-life flashback through Oskar’s life, and the final chapter is the search for rebirth.

The film references the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Early on in the film, two characters talk at length about the book and the promises it makes about death and the hereafter. While this exposition feels a bit clunky, it is necessary for understanding what we are about to see.

As children, Oskar and Linda witnessed the death of their parents from a graphic car accident. The experience draws the two together (perhaps too closely), and they promise to never leave each other “never ever.” Oskar promises Linda that even if he dies, “he’ll come back.” The two are then placed in separate foster homes and reunited years later in Tokyo.

Tokyo, photographed with lush and vibrant colours and set design with a floating camera, represents both a moral wasteland (Oskar is a drug dealer and Linda a stripper) and a sort of purgatory, where one makes sense of their life after they have died.

I feel obligated to say that Enter to Void is not for everyone. While it is clearly the work of an auteur who is trying to create something we have never seen before, the film is quite graphic violently and sexually. Furthermore, the visuals, while breathtaking are arresting, like a psychedelic odyssey. Noe is known for taking no hostages. His 2002 film Irreversible is told, well…in reverse, and features a graphic 9-minute rape scene. Enter the Void is never quite that graphic, but viewers beware.

If I haven’t made it clear enough yet, the film looks amazing, unlike anything I have ever seen before. In addition, Noe’s narrative experiment is nothing short of intriguing, if it isn’t entirely successful. The direction is maverick, leading me to believe this is Noe’s film through and through; no other working director could have made the film quite this effectively. However, the writing seemed to take backseat to the visuals. Because of the constant POV, the viewer rarely gets to see Oskar’s face. Without seeing his crucial facial expressions and reaction to the world as he sees it, I had a hard time empathizing with Oskar, or knowing what he was really about.

It’s not often American audiences watch films from overseas. If you feel adventurous, give Enter the Void a try. You won’t be bored, or feel like you’ve seen this before. (Also, the dialogue is all in English). Enter the Void is at its soul an experiment; the result of an inspired artist stretching the limits of his medium. Even when Enter the Void comes up a bit short, its shameless ambition deserves high praise.

[Note: if you’re not interested in this film, at least go on YouTube and watch the opening credits sequence. It’ll blow your mind, and maybe give you a headache.]