Raiders
08-07-2008, 03:09 AM
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Perhaps the most meta film to come from Hollywood in a long, long time, Steven Soderbergh's 1999 masterpiece is a film that is entirely consumed by the idea of memory. Be it the main character's or cinema's, the film breathes with the recollection and the nostalgia for a time past. From the plot which echoes Point Blank and Get Carter to the style which reflects Resnais and the New Wave to the two lead characters played by icons of the 60s, this is Soderbergh's tip-of-the-hat to cinema past, mirrored in the central tale of a criminal reflecting on previous events.
From the first frame, we can see there is a reflection and a searching ("Tell me about Jenny"). Terrence Stamp's aging criminal Wilson is released from prison and starts out on a quest to find out what happened to his now-dead daughter. He tracks down Peter Fonda's producer Valentine with whom Jenny had an affair. Immediately, Soderbergh revels in the cultural time capsule Fonda has become, forever iconicized as that late-60s rebel.
Stamp's quest is alternatively violent and humorous, but Soderbergh's film always retains an air of protracted distance. It is a style purposefully employed to show the thought process of a man looking for answers. Soderbergh's film is often temporally ambiguous, displaying images over dialogue that are connected not by actions but solely by emotions; the emotions of a man reflecting and wandering through his mind for a moment. And that's ultimately what the film is, a series of moments frozen in time adding to a singular journey.
Perhaps Soderbergh's most brilliant and meta move is his use of Ken Loach's Poor Cow as a means of giving flashbacks for Stamp as a young man. It connects the younger, more vital Wilson but also the Stamp of 1967 and these feel like intimate memories for both the character and for the director as he cribs past cinema for modern effects. It's overwhelmingly effective in allowing Soderbergh an effective and cinematic means to give a back story for his character and in one fell swoop equates Stamp with Wilson and memories with cinema. By the end, we see the regretful Stamp and we see that these earlier visions are perhaps a means of yearning. Soderbergh makes his loss not only his daughter, but the years of freedom he had. It is a subtle touch and one that ultimately grows into one of the best cinematic takes on aging and loss.
In the end, this is a film that achieves its affect almost solely through its style. Surely Soderbergh has never been better than he is here. The screenplay is at turns sad, funny and eloquent, but the regret and loneliness is something profoundly deepened by Soderbergh's constant harking of the past, both in his characters and in his stylistic influences. It is a seamless film, beautifully edited and pieced together, but one that feels ragged and disjointed, like a man set on vengeance but slowly realizing the futility. And in the end, he doesn't carry through to the bitter end because he looks into the face of his enemy and sees only himself. Both in his relationship with his daughter, and in his long forgotten dreams and youth, in that time when he still had love. Now, everything has changed, and Soderbergh makes sure we feel that disparity through his eloquent juxtapositions of the then and now. Magical filmmaking.
Perhaps the most meta film to come from Hollywood in a long, long time, Steven Soderbergh's 1999 masterpiece is a film that is entirely consumed by the idea of memory. Be it the main character's or cinema's, the film breathes with the recollection and the nostalgia for a time past. From the plot which echoes Point Blank and Get Carter to the style which reflects Resnais and the New Wave to the two lead characters played by icons of the 60s, this is Soderbergh's tip-of-the-hat to cinema past, mirrored in the central tale of a criminal reflecting on previous events.
From the first frame, we can see there is a reflection and a searching ("Tell me about Jenny"). Terrence Stamp's aging criminal Wilson is released from prison and starts out on a quest to find out what happened to his now-dead daughter. He tracks down Peter Fonda's producer Valentine with whom Jenny had an affair. Immediately, Soderbergh revels in the cultural time capsule Fonda has become, forever iconicized as that late-60s rebel.
Stamp's quest is alternatively violent and humorous, but Soderbergh's film always retains an air of protracted distance. It is a style purposefully employed to show the thought process of a man looking for answers. Soderbergh's film is often temporally ambiguous, displaying images over dialogue that are connected not by actions but solely by emotions; the emotions of a man reflecting and wandering through his mind for a moment. And that's ultimately what the film is, a series of moments frozen in time adding to a singular journey.
Perhaps Soderbergh's most brilliant and meta move is his use of Ken Loach's Poor Cow as a means of giving flashbacks for Stamp as a young man. It connects the younger, more vital Wilson but also the Stamp of 1967 and these feel like intimate memories for both the character and for the director as he cribs past cinema for modern effects. It's overwhelmingly effective in allowing Soderbergh an effective and cinematic means to give a back story for his character and in one fell swoop equates Stamp with Wilson and memories with cinema. By the end, we see the regretful Stamp and we see that these earlier visions are perhaps a means of yearning. Soderbergh makes his loss not only his daughter, but the years of freedom he had. It is a subtle touch and one that ultimately grows into one of the best cinematic takes on aging and loss.
In the end, this is a film that achieves its affect almost solely through its style. Surely Soderbergh has never been better than he is here. The screenplay is at turns sad, funny and eloquent, but the regret and loneliness is something profoundly deepened by Soderbergh's constant harking of the past, both in his characters and in his stylistic influences. It is a seamless film, beautifully edited and pieced together, but one that feels ragged and disjointed, like a man set on vengeance but slowly realizing the futility. And in the end, he doesn't carry through to the bitter end because he looks into the face of his enemy and sees only himself. Both in his relationship with his daughter, and in his long forgotten dreams and youth, in that time when he still had love. Now, everything has changed, and Soderbergh makes sure we feel that disparity through his eloquent juxtapositions of the then and now. Magical filmmaking.