· The Finical Filmgoer ·
On Tuesday evening M. Chariot attended a screening of Salt – the new, double-agent action thriller directed by Phillip Noyce and starring Mlle Angelina Jolie, M. Liev Schreiber and M. Chiwetel Ejiofor. I am here to confess I was rather shaken by the proceedings. Departing the cinema on trembly legs, I found myself ruminating about the cinematic trend depicting women in mortal combat, which I recall starting with films like La Femme Nikita and then Kill Bill. Really pushes one's Bachelor's Button, does it not?
It's quite one thing to see gentlemen engaged in bloody cinematic brutality, leveling punches and kicks, slashing each other with knives, being perforated by a hale of bullets and hurtled into glass cabinetry and such. Although in real life such extreme violence is typically over in a matter of seconds, in film these kinds of things do go on and on, if you don't mind my saying so. Choreographed for maximum barbarity, film violence discomposes refined gentlepersons (like you, dear reader) the world over!
But when we feature the fair sex in this brutalizing scenario, that sense of vulnerability, of terror, is amped up considerably, in case you hadn't noticed! Yes, yes, heroines in such films are unvaryingly ruthless, trained assassins who are apparently accustomed to being pummeled to a tooth-spitting pulp. Far be it from me to be a partypooper at the slaughterhouse, but one does have some difficulty finding one's bearings midst the haute couture and carnage.
Still, Mlle Jolie, we are reassured, revels in spectacles of this kind. Her recent Vanity Fair interview explains that she adores acting in violent films – she just doesn't care to watch them. A telling insight, to be sure. But what are we to make of such remarks? Perhaps "I'm happy to make 90 million dollars inflicting bread and circuses on a drooling public, but I'll be damned if I'm going to watch something this brutal myself." Besides, she's too busy as goodwill ambassador for the UN or somesuch.
An athletic actress who enjoys executing her own stunts, Jolie works diligently with top stunt trainers and choreographers to bring a lurid savagery to the populace. Thus we get to see the distinguished beauty herself, "kicking ass" so hard her bloody Jimmy Choos thrust fashionably out her opponents' esophagi – and we can see her pretty face while she does it. A bonus of sorts.
Unfortunately, Jolie's enthusiasm for doing her own stunt work is, if one doesn't mind my saying so, the film's weak point. For violence this sensational, a professional stunt stand-in willing to take a few hard slams here and there goes a long way, thank you most kindly. Although Jolie's stunts are breathtakingly choreographed within an inch of her luminous cheekbones, there is a distinct sense that the heavily-insured star is being handled a bit more delicately than action film stuntpersons typically require.
Think about it: what stunt fighter wants to be the guy who accidentally kicked Angelina Jolie in the face? Talk about losing your job – to say nothing of being sued for a kajillion dollars.
Which brings my third wife to mind.
Finical Filmgoer Reviews:
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (2006)
The Twilight Saga: New Moon (2009)
Antonioni's L'Avventura (1960)
The Golden Bowl (2000)
Last Year at Marienbad (1961)
Far from the Madding Crowd (1967)
Goodbye Again (1961)
Antichrist (2009)
The Big Lebowski (1998)
Smash His Camera (2010)
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Comments
Rated with hugs
I believe I read that there was indeed a stunt double for Mlle. Jolie, but she did her own stunts in such areas as jumping from one moving truck onto another - with the aid of harnesses and cables, which, of course, were edited out.
The plot is nonsense, but one hardly expects otherwise. It's also nice to see that Russians are back in style as villains. Islamo-terrorists are so yesterday!
Biff! Sock-o! Crunch!
Add me to the chorus of people who send you their gratitude for viewing this and reporting on it so that we can skip it altogether. Merci, my dear.
My dear Mlle Seccaspina: Before we hug, would you mind being patted for weapons?
My dear Mlle SixtyCandles: Thank you for clarifying you position on female violence. But the knee-capping you inflicted was unnecessary.
My dear M. Justis: Were I in the same room with Mlle Jolie, any projections in her direction would be most embarrassing.
My dear M. ChillerPop: One can only imagine your marital bed.
My dear M. OESheepdog: It may be of some interest that Mlle Jolie save a puppy before beheading 3 people in Salt.
This is, I hope you know...my highest praise.
I smother you with kisses, M. Chariot.
My dear M. Blevins: If you don't stop getting covers and 100+ ratings, you may encounter your tombstone sooner than you wish.
My dear Mlle aim: I recommend the French version of La Femme Nikita instead. You'll find it goes much better with camembert, water crackers and a glass of chardonnay.
My dear Mlle Young: Apparently the only difference between conservative assassins and liberal assassins is that conservatives shoot each other in real life while liberals shoot each other on film.
My dear Mlle Russell: Boys like anything gory, grown men ask sexist questions, and girls crave disembowelment.
My dear Mlle Mitchell: I should have know I'd find a tiny, pearl-handled pistol in your decolletage.
My dear M. Tingey: It is difficult to get Mlle Jolie out of one's mind when she is pointing a Glock in your face.
My dear Mlle Persephone13: Well, I suppose one should be grateful you're not smothering me with a pillow.
It seems to me that La Femme Nikita was a different kind of movie. The character portrayed by Anne Parillaud starts out as a thug and drug addict who murders a policeman during a robbery.
After being given an "offer she can't refuse" she enters a training program designed to make her both an efficient killer AND a lady, the latter course of study being the most difficult for her.
Other than doing the occasional assassination, after the training she develops a normal life, shopping for groceries, having a boyfriend, and so on. Eventually the violence takes its toll, and she can't take it any more and flees, presumably never to be seen again. Inasmuch as the movie can be said to have a "message," I think it is the triumph of humanity over violence, the rejection of violence in favor of a normal life.
So perhaps the most troubling development is not the heroine who kicks ass, but the heroine who kicks ass and enjoys it. Women symbolize the peaceful, nurturing aspect of life, and when a heroine commits violent acts and enjoys them, it is a desecration of that symbol.
My dear M. Tarheel: The witness protection program spares gentlemen such as myself the discreet pleasures of my third marriage.
My dear M. OldNewLefty: Old bullet wounds have a way of placing one's observations on the wry side of the spectrum.
As for villains -- I prefer them to be humiliated rather than expired.
Embarrassment will not kill you; you will only wish that was so."
I do love a ass-kicking female lead, but I want someone I can believe in. I hope it's not asking too much for a little realism with the high-flying super stunts. The plot was horrible, and the characters even worse. Then there was the non-stop violence which I found shocking since the movie was just pg-13.
(sigh I could complain about it for days....)
I could only suspend my disbelief for so long before I found myself wishing Mlle. Jolie would die just so the dreadful movie would end.
It didn't happen soon enough, so I just walked out.
@Mishima "when a heroine commits violent acts and enjoys them, it is a desecration of that symbol." yeah, I think that is exactly what I like about it
I enjoyed how you identified something insightful, something insightful and a little disturbing, and a few other somethings besides. You're my favorite film reviewer, no matter how many fingers you're typing with.
That said, I would not see Ms Jolie's latest frivolity unless I were paid a tidy sum sufficient to finance my complete mental recovery as spoofy espionage flicks cause this humble commenter vicious attacks of vertigo.
(I am happy to note the Madonna video is a perfect musical accompaniment to your essay with it's complex imagery amidst the overinflated egotistical silly and stark cliche'd symbolism) (but I digress)
I am as ever your humble admirer
sincerly
f. monkey
My dear Mme WriterToTheStars: Murder via jelly donuts is Agent Salt's specialty. Watch your step!
My dear Mlle Sueinaz: Agent Salt is no match for your Death Wish against her.
My dear Mlle Hyblaean: Your enjoyment of violence is exactly why a bullet-proofing feature is next on the tech team's agenda.
My dear M. ManTalkNow: It's those little something-somethings that knock the ladies dead! The ones not carrying assault rifles, that is.
my "thank you" disappeared!
apologies M.
and a big FEH for all this techno hoopla of late!
Classic:
"...but I'll be damned if I'm going to watch something this brutal myself." Besides, she's too busy as a humanitarian spokesperson for the UN or somesuch.
Somesuch indeed. Ha...love it.
Not only a good review but a good point (re: lighter stunts for stars. It's almost like many actors who decide they can direct - it's an ego thing done for themselves, first and foremost.)
And also a good point, re: her not watching her own films. What? So WE have to endure her faux carnage. What a "take the money and run" attitude!
(And I can't believe I haven't added you as a favorite eons ago. You clearly are and have been. Scuse my OS faux pas, please.)
I also like when they make at least a glancing nod to physical reality. My partner and I caught part of some fairly recent Bruce Willis action flick (name forgotten and rightly so) some months ago on TV and they had him landing on the outside of an exploding plane and holding on without a scratch or some such ridiculosity.
Of course, all movies, and especially action and SFX flicks have only a fleeting relationship to reality but when you can no longer suspend disbelief but find yourself laughing uproariously at the fact that they even thought up the stunt...well, it's just too much. It's obvious in recent action films that directors feel a pressing need to top what the other action directors have done and the result is just silly, but without any winking acknowledgement that it's being done in a cartoonish or tongue-in-cheek style. The result makes the old Roadrunner cartoons look like Eugene O'Neill plays.
My dear Mlle Engoron: I was riveted by every word of your thoughtful comment - especially since you polished your AK-47 so ominously throughout.
My dear M. Youdin: A kajillion lies somewhere between God's salary on the low end, and Mlle Jolie's salary on the high.
But I don't think the Bratz doll look will look good on me, anyhow.
I love that. Can I use it?
Erudite as always.
My dear M. Scanner: How would you feel if you were trapped in an elevator which Angelina Jolie had wired for explosives? Living as I do in Hollywood, this happens to me at least once a week. Luckily, I disarm warheads as a hobby.
My dear Mme Seijo: I read somewhere that Angelina Jolie has had 3 fingers sliced off while applying mascara, when they accidentally brushed against her razor sharp cheekbones.
My dear Mlle Hells Bells: A woman who carries a Sig 550 assault rifle is never "wrong".
My dear Mlle Stephens: You can use it only if you reveal the location of your private munitions dump.
Not much for violent films regardless the gender of the combatant. Unless, of course, there's mud or jello involved.
I prefer a softer heroine. Give me Meryl Streep in "It's Complicated" for starters. Then again Patricia Heaton and her diminutive feistiness has always put lead in my pencil, too.
But a tattooed nut job seeking to adopt all the Unicef Poster Children?
Pass, Monsieur. Pass.
R
For every sin, I'll have to pay
I've come to work, I've come to play
I think I'll find another way
It's not my time to go
My dear Mlle Solod: Does the CIA fund your hand-to-hand combat program? And where are you getting your munitions training, if you don't mind my asking?
My dear M. Gwool: If you ever visit Hollywood, allow me to suggest a bullet-proof vest. And don't think softies like Meryl Streep or Patricia Heaton are going to protect you!
My dear M. LittleWillie:
Heaven
I'm in heaven
And the cares
That hung around me through the week -
Seem to vanish
Like a gamblers lucky streak
When we're massacring baddies cheek to cheek!
My dear M. Tingey: If one is ever the object of Mlle Jolie's antipathy, one would do well to come under the protection of Madonna as a private security contractor.
you, sir, are suspect: it is not necessary to watch these things, the trailer tells one all a gentleman needs to know.
And to add a thought, does the fine gentlemen believe that life imitates art ...is there a co-relation in the rise of acceptance and/or
violence between women as a result of a more common occurence on screen?
"Perhaps the woman might deliver her complaints to a higher class of animals?"
Words of wisdom, Lloyd. Words - of - wisdom. (From The Shining, which I'm guessing you already know...silly me.)
My dear Mlle Veltman: The reason action stars can hurtle through windows without a scratch is due entirely to spectacular advances in cosmetic surgery in Hollywood.
My dear M. Loomis: If you must know, I was forced to see Salt against my will - at gunpoint.
My dear Monsieur Docteur Spudman: Thank you for this kind comment. It inspired me to throw my weapon on the floor.
My dear Mlle GabbyAbby: Enchanted, ma cherie! Enchanted! Now tell me who are you working for: CIA? Or KGB?
My dear Mlle Roddick: I knew you were a double-agent!
My dear Mlle Sumac: I am pleased to see we share a certain taste in film - SWF is one of my favorite psychological thrillers! And in response to your question, I think that "glamorizing" anything does make it more acceptable in real life.
My dear Mlle KarinR: Elegance is the gentleperson's antidote to idiocy, is it not my dear Mlle?
My dear Mlle Peony: I suspect we both agree that too much eye candy can result in a certain emotional hypoglycemia. One longs for real cinematic nourishment! Does one not, my dear Mlle?
My dear Mlle FusunA: A tip of the top hat to one of our favorite lady writers!
Hmmm.
Good review, Monsieur. I am still waiting to become Mrs. Chariot.
Have a lovely.
Insightful point. Of course, women have always been in danger in the movies. In the past, they've needed a guy to rescue them. Perhaps the movies have found a way to dispense with the male savior. Though the female protagonist is a trained killing machine, the titillating part is still the danger that she's in, not the punishment she's handing out. It's scarier because it's a woman, even though she happens to be perfectly able to untie herself from the railroad tracks without the help of a man. The "woman in danger" thing may be in important part of the appeal, though there's also the fun of the action and the over the top fighting skill as well.
My dear Mlle Lake: "Of course, women have always been in danger in the movies. In the past, they've needed a guy to rescue them. Perhaps the movies have found a way to dispense with the male savior."
A very insightful perception, my dear! Thank you for sharing it here!
I clicked that little thumbs up button for ya.
BB
Do I detect a note of envy in yourself, Monsieur?
Well, this 47 year-old commie is not ashamed to admit to the middle-age spread that can make an over-produced action film a guilty pleasure for her. I have never had the aspiration or the chance to exhibit the outrageously unrealistic athleticism usually depicted by action films; nevertheless, movies like Salt allow me full immersion in a Walter-Mitty-style fantasy, where I can voyeuristically experience the blissful joys of having such a body (with accompanying couture) and the almost erotic experience of kicking the asses of my truly evil (no shades of grey) enemies. It is a satisfaction that true life never affords!
You may scoff at such a fantasy, Monsieur--you may even critique Mlle Jolie's film as mediocre the execution of such a fantasy--but you cannot tell me you have never indulged in the same. I will not believe you.
My dear M. Lazar: One relies on Romantics like yourself to uncover that particular toggle.
My dearest Mlle Max: M. Chariot has long envied the precision physiques of our celebrities. Here in Hollywood, it is illegal for uncelebrated, obscure gentlepersons like myself to be even 10lbs overweight - a criminal offense punishable by deportation! If I come off a tad huffish it is only because I'm starved for a croissant.
Mon cher Monsieur, your apt review is built on the idea that the film industry is moving into areas where violence is king, something which drives this Poor Woman to remain home for any movie viewing, where she can pause and recoup if assaulted visually.
Your taste, in general, dovetailed my own previously. Now I find us to be more in synch than I had anticipated.
It is delightful knowing you are here to field the foul ball, the poorly targeted hit, for those of us less savvy filmgoers.
Thank you again--or should I say instead, merci beaucoup--for all your work for us.
And may I say your pinkies never seem out of sorts to those of us reading your work.
Rated
My dear Mlle Heng: La Femme Nikita and I await you for a cocktail at my cloistral apartments.