Review: Mackie Messer- Brecht’s Threepenny Film

Mackie Messer (2018): Written and directed by Joachim Lang.  Starring: Lars Eidinger, Tobias Moretti, Hannah Herzsprung, Robert Stadloper, Joachim Krol, Claudia Michelsen, Britta Hammelstein.  Running Time: 135 Minutes.  Based on the opera of the same name by Bertolt Brecht. 

Rating: 2.5/4

            The opening texts of Mackie Messer inform us that what we are about to see is inspired by “a film never made.”  What follows are essentially two separate films mashed together in ways designed to make a joke of the very notion of a fourth wall.  The first deals with the meteoric success of Brecht’s Threepenny Opera upon its release (which he cheekily refers to as an attempt to match the “dumbing down” of the German opera scene).  Talk of a film adaptation starts up right away, and Brecht and his co-artists soon sign a contract with a production company.  However, Brecht’s vision and ideas for the movie grow wilder and wilder, until the company, worried about its bottom line, tries to cut him out.  He sues in retaliation, and both the long legal process and the rising power of the Nazis eventually lead to his ideas being shelved and him fleeing the country.  Thank God such studio-artist clashes NEVER happen these days. 

            Parallel to the real-world drama, we see what was supposedly his vision for the film, the story played out in broad strokes (I imagine there were far more details in the opera left out for time’s sake).  Brecht takes both friends and foes alike into his vision (literally!) for the Threepenny film, with Brecht appearing around the characters, on balconies, or in windows, to describe what we are seeing to the skeptical paper-pushers he’s trying to get on board.  It is a fascinating way to both allow Brecht himself to narrate the proceedings (most of his lines are direct quotes from various writings of his) and to work as a way to actually bring his vision as near as possible to what he had hoped the film could be.  And the film’s daring in refusing to stick to any form of logic, in how it jumps in and out of time and space, using all sorts of fun gimmicks to transition between the Opera and “real world,” is a joy to behold. 

            For all its flaws, then, this film is a notable and touching tribute to the power of the individual artistic vision, and a sign that even when more “mainstream” societal forces seem to have won the upper-hand, in the long view of things, art has a way of continuing on and surviving past the pettiness of its origins.  I admit that I am not nearly as well-read in Brecht’s works as I ought to be, so there may very well be an additional value in watching the film for Brecht devotees who are much more deeply versed in the history of this part of his life than I am. 

            But there are, in the end, too many ways the film kneecaps itself needlessly for me to call it a “great” film.  Using direct quotes from Brecht is fine, and Lars Eidinger does a fine job of conveying the presence of someone twice as smart as everyone else in the room, but smartass social critiques that sting wonderfully on paper rarely ever sound like something you would hear in everyday conversation.  And since such statements make up about 98.42% of all of Brecht’s dialogue, the result is that Brecht comes across as less of a character and more like Classic German Literature’s version of Deadpool, good for one-line zingers and not much else. 

            There are also undertones of, if not sexism, then at least assumed masculine superiority in the interactions between Brecht and his fellow artists, including three women who seem to orbit around him like moons.  It is mentioned that he has kids from each of them running around, but we barely see them.  They seem to provide for him and run his house while he writes with brow furrowed, and while he appears to fully respect and treat them as artistic equals, at the end of the day, it’s not them being photographed and quoted by the papers.  What this stems from I can’t say.  Perhaps it’s a case of the film seeking historical accuracy in its gender relations.  Maybe the screenplay was cut down and space to develop the women was left hanging.  Maybe the director just never thought of it.  But it was something I never could stop noticing while I was watching, even though the film never does anything other than entertain. 

            This film will confuse many who do not already know the Threepenny opera or the drama surrounding its origins, so there are likely a great many viewers who will feel too left out in the cold to really like this film.  While I certainly belong to the ranks of the ignorant, though, I found it a fun, daring experience.  I would rather see a dozen films with nerve like this than a hundred from the standard studio fares of today. 

-Noah Franc

           

Review: U – July 22

U – July 22 (2018): Written by Anna Bache-Wiig and Siv Rajendram Eliassen, directed by Erik Poppe.  Starring: Andrea Berntzen, Brede Fristad, Elli Rhiannon Mueller Osbourne, and Solveig Koloen Birkeland.  Running Time: 90 minutes. 

Rating: 3.5/4

            This movie is one of, and possibly the, most singularly difficult experiences I’ve had watching a movie this year.  U – July 22, a recreation of the July 22^nd terrorist attacks by a Christian extremist that took over 70 lives, is both a remarkable technical achievement in immersive filmmaking and a deeply provocative and disturbing work meant to provoke endless debate over how terrorism, extremism, and violence can and should be depicted on-screen. 

            The film focuses on the second of what was ultimately a two-pronged attack by the terrorist (I refuse to put that devil’s name in print).  After detonating a car bomb in the government quarter of Oslo, the terrorist bluffed his way onto an island hosting a youth gathering organized by the country’s leading political party.  Once on the island, he began shooting.  This second attack lasted for exactly 72 minutes before help arrived, and in addition to the 8 people killed in the earlier bombing, over the course of the hour plus he was on the island he shot and killed 69 more people (nearly all teenagers).  Hundreds more were either injured or later suffered from symptoms of severe trauma and PTSD. 

            With the exception of an opening montage depicting the bombing, the film focuses almost exclusively on the second attack, featuring a nearly-single-take shot (there are a few cheat edits that an experienced editor might spot) that takes the viewer through the entirety of the 72-minute shooting.  While the exact events depicted were based on exhaustive interviews with over 40 survivors to ensure accuracy, the characters we follow are fictional. 

            What I find most notable (and, in the end, most laudable) about the film is that it is laser-focused on the children, on the victims of one man’s twisted ideology and dreams of a race war sweeping the West.  The shooter is only glimpsed a handful of times, a vague, Slenderman-esque figure at the very back of the shot.  We never see his face, we never hear his name.  No psychoanalysis or tortured hand-wringing over why right-wring extremism exists or the Fall of the West.  Just a bunch of scared, innocent children, experiencing one of the worst traumas anyone can ever experience, struggling to survive, knowing they did nothing to deserve this. 

            No film I have yet seen does such a thoroughly effective (and, as a result, shattering) job of forcing a viewer to, as much as is possible, gain some feeling for what it actually is like to be caught in a mass shooting.  The news reports and heated debates and think pieces that follow in the wake of each new American slaughter quickly become cold, distant, clinical, bloodless.  No one boasting of the benefits of good guys with guns, of the clear and obvious need for just one person to stand up, morph into Liam Neeson, and turn hero, has every actually been in such a situation where shots ring out, no one knows what’s what, and the deepest of survival instincts take over.  No one, except those who have, and they know better than to make hollow boasts.             

            This staggering effect is achieved first and foremost through the camerawork- the lens through which we view everything practically functions as a person in and of itself, one of the children running, ducking, running, glancing behind us, hiding, then running, over and over again.  Each gunshot- hundreds and hundreds of them, land like hammer blows on the ears, sending shots of instant, cold, reptilian fear up the spine. 

            Most of the time we are close to the face of our main protagonist, Katja (played by Andrea Berntzen).  When she is hiding in some bushes, our vision is filled with leaves and branches.  When she thinks she sees the murderer and presses herself into the ground, the camera sinks into the mud with her.  When she runs, we run.  When she stumbles, we stumble.  This intense and utterly unbroken intimacy places the burden of carrying this astounding experiment on the shoulders of Berntzen, who proves herself more than up to the Herculean task.  Her performance deserves to be considered one of the most definitive breakout performances of 2018, regardless of what one thinks about the movie itself.    

            Whether or not this film, or any film about the July 22^nd attacks (another one by director Paul Greengrass is set to hit Netflix later this year), can be considered appropriate and worthwhile, or can only ever be an unethical, exploitative commercialization of tragedy, is a question that I am in absolutely no position to answer definitively.  That said, the context of the production and intention of the film must, in my view, be taken into account.  In this case, the film’s writing and production involved feedback and input from survivors and families of victims from the start, including having some of the survivors on-set during filming to ensure accuracy and a psychologist on hand to help the cast handle the stress of filming.  While there has certainly been opposition to and criticism of the film, the reaction within Norway has (to my knowledge) been largely positive.  For me, that is enough to be able to consider this movie as more than just a piece of crass exploitation. 

            The devotion of the film to being an experience rather than just a documentary means that, for many, it will fall short of what most people consider an “entertaining” or “informative” film.  A viewer going in with no prior knowledge of the attacks will likely be extremely confused the whole time, and will leave no better informed, because this is not a movie meant to relate facts.  Since most of the children had no choice during the attack than to stay in one place as long as they felt safe enough, large chunks of the film are spent in a stationary spot with Katja, either alone or with others, stuck against a tree or a rock wall, trying to wait out the attack long enough until they feel forced by circumstance to move again and find another safe spot.  These long stretches are in no way conventionally cinematic- almost none of the film’s notable sequences are- but again, this is not trying to be a conventional film.  It seeks to be an experience, to drive home the despairing, helpless feeling of lying face-down in the Earth, praying for safe passage through the storm, not knowing where to turn next, and in this, it succeeds astoundingly well. 

           

            While I did say earlier that the movie does not directly deal with the sort of right-wing ideologies that inspire terrorism, the director found a remarkably powerful way of indirectly refuting every argument that most right-wing movements try to make about Western society without anyone ever having to say it out loud.  When most people think of Norway (or Sweden, or Denmark, or pretty much every Northern European country), they immediately picture someplace almost entirely homogenously white and Christian.  This is certainly the image of Norway that the attacker believes in, and what motivated the attacks in the first place.  The students and young adults who are to become his victims, however, are of various races and religions, with one Muslim character openly worrying about the possibility the bombing was done by Al-Qaeda and that he will face even more discrimination in society than he already does.  Boys and girls of every shape, size, and color gather together, try to comfort each other, and try to survive.  This simple fact of the film alone, absent any explicit commentary, is a stunning rebuke to the mindset of such depraved persons who would look at such a gathering and decry it as the downfall of humanity. 

            U – July 22 is a hard film, a powerful film, a profoundly heart-rending experience that not everyone will have the strength for.  For those who do, or at least hope they do, it is one of the year’s most essential viewing experiences.  Forget the sick ideologies of hate.  Forget the sad debates that insist on a “both sides” in debates about guns and killing.  Forget the pettiness of politics.  Focus on reminding yourself that, in the end, those who bear the ultimate cost for such hate and ignorance are the young, the unblemished, the innocent, those who would otherwise offer us a better tomorrow.  They are worth more of your time, consideration, and effort than any nutjob with a shaved head and a Napoleon complex. 

-Noah Franc

Producers in Focus: Daren Jackson (Rap Critic)

            Rap Critic joined the TGWTG scene not too long after Todd in the Shadows, expanding the site’s music offerings with his focus on Rap and Hip-Hop, both areas of music Todd tended to cover less with his focus on more mainstream Pop.  Though he would joke that many connected to the site would refer to him as “Not Todd,” to any careful viewer it was clear that he was in no way simply aping his colleague.  Adopting the straightforward, talk-right-to-the-camera style of most of his contemporaries (complete with personal slogan he’s largely abandoned in recent years), it was obvious that Daren Jackson had his own style and approach to his material, especially his own particular brand of humor, that make his videos their own unique pleasure to watch and revisit time and time again (plus he also makes his own music). 

            Though he has a long series of more standard review videos of various Rap hits (as well as the requisite Best and Worst yearly lists, all of which are worth your time), by far his most prolific and funniest content is his Worst Lyrics series, where he lists anywhere from 3 to 8 or 9 random lyrics, be they old or new, that he heard in the last month and that struck him as especially bad, confusing, or despicable in some way.  The simple style of his editing and presentation sets the scene for some of the funniest rap-related jokes I’ve ever heard.  Just about every one of these are worth your time, but here’s an unranked sampling of just a few of my personal favorites. 

            Are there any former TGWTG/CA producers you’ve been missing and what to get caught up on?  Then check out and follow the Unawesomeness page on Twitter.  Let’s make the internet economy of tomorrow a better, more equitable place, starting now. 

-Noah Franc

Films for the Trump Years: Angels in America

“Nothing’s lost forever.  In this world there’s a kind of painful progress…longing for what we’ve left behind and dreaming ahead.  At least I think that’s so.” 

            Angels in America originated as one of the early stage works of playwright Tony Kushner, better-known to movie aficionados as the Oscar-nominated screenwriter for Munich and Lincoln.  Originally debuting in 1991 and reaching Broadway in 1993, the play is a massive enterprise that delves into the world of the 1980’s AIDS crisis in America.  The two parts of the show (respectively named Millennium Approaches and Perestroika) bind together themes of homosexuality, politics, health care, inequality, race, theology, immigration, and much, much more into a massively detailed storytelling tapestry that, depending on the adaption, usually clocks in between 7 and 8 hours in its live performances. 

            A decade after it took the theater world by storm, Kushner returned to adapt the play into a 6-part HBO miniseries in 2003 (Mike Nichols directed), which went on to net numerous Emmys and Golden Globes, including Best Miniseries.  Looking back now, the series is an early reveal of Kushner's ability to write screenplays as excellent as his stage works.  There is much in the dialogue to remind one of the theatrical roots of the show, especially the longer monologues, but Kushner’s writing combined with a stellar cast sells every moment of it.  Taking a speech meant for the intimacy of a stage and giving it the same power in a cinematic setting is a challenge not every writer, performer, or director is up to.   

            The cast stars Justin Kirk as Prior Walter and Ben Shenkman as Louis, a gay couple in NYC who suffer a falling out after Prior is diagnosed with AIDS.  Parallel to their story, a heterosexual Mormon couple- Mary-Louise Parker as Harper and Patrick Wilson as Joe- are facing their own marital struggles, centered around Patrick’s clearly very repressed homosexuality and Harper’s Valium addiction.  Rounding out the cast are Jeffrey Wright as Prior’s best friend Belize, Meryl Streep as both Joe’s mother and the ghost of Ethel Rosenberg (in what might be my all-time favorite performance of hers), and Emma Thompson as both Prior’s nurse and the angel that starts visiting him after his illness starts to advance. 

            The ultimate scene-chewer, though, as well as the most unambiguously villainous one of the bunch, is Al Pacino’s Roy Cohn (who in the play is Joe’s boss), a figure with such a cartoonishly evil resume you might first assume Kushner invented him as a conglomerate character meant to symbolize the worst aspects of post-WWII American conservatism.  But nope- very nearly every word about him in the show is true; he served as a key prosecutor in the Rosenberg trial and claimed afterward to be personally responsible for their death sentence; he did work closely with McCarthy; he was a major figure in Ronald Reagan’s rise to the Presidency; and yes, he was a repressed homosexual who died of AIDS shortly after being disbarred in 1986, insisting all the while it was…..wait for it….liver cancer. 

            Oh yeah, and he did legal work for both Donald Trump and Rupert Murdoch in the 1970’s and is credited with introducing the two to each other.  So there’s also that. 

            Al Pacino is, somehow, ever slimier in this role than he was in The Godfather Part II.  I didn't think that was possible, but here we are.  As insane as everything about Roy Cohn is, it ends up being rather perfect that Kushner chose him to be a central figure in this story.  He functions, as no invented character ever could, as the best-possible example of what the GOP already was by the Reagan years and is even more so now.  He is a pure distillation of the notion of power, seeking itself out for its own sake, to the detriment of everyone else. 

            Roy has a pivotal monologue at the end of Chapter One that cuts right to the heart of what made the AIDS crisis so bitter and the fight against it so drawn out- the assumption, at first, that it was a disease that only touched "those homosexuals," that “those homosexuals” were always and only nameless, powerless schmucks who got what they deserved, and those in higher positions could never be linked to such barbarism.  As always, such bigoted assumptions paid themselves out in blood, many times over, and now they are doing so again. 

            Roy also plays a part in what, watching the series now (I write this in the midst of the nomination process of Brett Kavanaugh for the Supreme Court) is one of the most viscerally painful scenes in the whole show to revisit.  It is a restaurant dinner where an associate of Roy's breaks down to Joe, in excruciatingly clear detail, the foundation of the decades-long movement by conservative groups like the Heritage Foundation to dominate the GOP and stymy liberal goals, especially if they are the will of the democratic majority, by packing the federal courts, seat by seat, with arch-conservative judges. 

            This scene touches on something numerous writers have examined over the years about why, exactly, American conservatism went so consciously and determinedly insane over the past three decades.  Underlying the dialogue of the scene is the clear, yet unspoken, assumption among conservative intelligentsia and power brokers that, with Reagan's rise, their position was not only the One True And Moral Way, but was in fact destined to never fail again- Joe is assured that the Presidency is already locked Republican for 2000 and beyond, with Congress and every federal court soon to follow. 

            Except that it didn't actually turn out that way- the “lock” was never as secure as many thought, and only once in the last six Presidential elections has the GOP candidate won a majority of the national vote.  And for many on the right, it ultimately proved too unforgiveable that both a slick, politically-savvy white man and a profoundly intellectual and moral black man could beat them at their own game not only once, but twice apiece.  Any system where such "wrongness" could be allowed to win over what’s “right,” so the logic inevitably goes, is an abomination, and so no measure to destroy it is too much if it means that "those people" are kept in their proper place- under the boot of the white man.  Even if it means the democratic process itself and the very notions of civic virtue and human rights must be sacrificed in the process.   

            There are moments when the show is very much of its time- I too remember that period in the 90's when the ozone hole was supposed to be the worst possible sign of the end times.  Compared to what we face today, it almost seems quant that that used to be the great casus belli for aggressive leftists.  But the core principle of the story, that of the need for our souls to come together to heal what's broken, still stands untouched by time, as it is precisely the sort of vision necessary to heal the even greater harms being inflicted on our planet now. 

            Angels of America is a story about the endurance of life even in the face of immense suffering, and about how the marginalized of every shape, size, orientation, and color are still here, growing and thriving, in the face of all who would destroy them.  Light scatters into pockets too small for the darkness to snuff out, and it's worth reminding ourselves of its continuance even when it seems to be cast out of the higher reaches of power. It is a humanist vision that sees how sparks within the smallest of people can allow hope and goodness to survive the times of darkness, prompting remembrance of a time when things seemed similarly bleak, when a Republican-dominated government considered itself to be unaccountable for the sufferings of the marginalized. 

            A single question pervades much of the story- are there angels in America?  Is there salvation, anywhere, to be found here?  Can the vision of Belize as he describes heaven to Roy be believed to be achievable?  Or is any effort at such doomed to miserable disappointment and failure? 

            It is to the story's credit that it does not try to "prove" one answer or another.  Its focus is on the quiet glory of how we stumble about in the dark, even though we can never truly know if we are on the right path or not.  Sometimes, the simple act of living out each day to its fullest is the most profound sort of revolution there is.  After all, even angels are flummoxed by it. 

-Noah Franc

Previously on Films for the Trump Years:

Part 1- Selma

Part 2- Good Night, and Good Luck

Part 3- 13^th

Part 4- Get Out

Part 5- Chasing Ice/Chasing Coral

Part 6- The Big Short

Part 7- Human Flow

Part 8- Winter’s Bone/Moonlight

Part 9- Black Panther

Part 10- Arrested Development

Part 11- Bowling for Columbine

Part 12- [T]error