my blueberry nights
Wong Kar-Wai and Natalie Portman team up to prove that any time of the day is a good time for pie. This should have been the greatest movie ever made.
A couple weeks ago, just as work was beginning to forcibly ween me off my own self-aggrandizement here, my cranky sister and I went to check out the latest offering from my second favorite film director. Alas, the mighty have fallen, albeit not terribly far. More like stumbled, and then pretended to be instantaneously in a hurry and initiating a sudden run in an attempt to mask the mistake. My Blueberry Nights, is Wong Kar-Wai’s first attempt at shooting a movie in America, with Western stars, in a language other than every language other than English (see 2046 for insight and a translation company’s dream project). The flick stars Norah Jones (yeah, that one), and Jude Law (also that one) who, despite a stuttering start, are serviceable leads for the most part. But when you’re used to seeing Tony Leung take the reigns in such roles, opposite the likes of Maggie Cheung or Faye Wong, the two look like neophyte deer in headlights. If you squint really hard, you can see a joke about white people’s eyes in the sentence preceding this one. Also in the one preceding this one. But now I’m done.
As fun as it is to make fun of the round-eyes and alienate everyone who reads this except my parents, I’m getting off track even earlier than usual. Which is alright, because I’ve got a lot of movies and TV to write about, so I’ll try to be short. Which shouldn’t be hard, because I’m Chinese. Dammit. To get back on point, it really wasn’t a bad flick. I just felt like I’d seen it all before, but with people I cared more about and in locations that were more evocative and striking. Still, the quirky love stories were sufficiently quirky, and the beautiful cinematography effectively beautified the oft-hideous South. But that doesn’t change the fact that this was the first time I watched one of Wong’s movies and didn’t feel especially sympathetic to those who were heartbroken, nor inspired by those who persevered in the pursuit of human connections. Then again, I haven’t watched one of his movies in the last couple years, if you catch my meaning. In the end, I felt like this attempt was but a pale approximation of his previous work. But to put things in perspective, a bootlegged VHS copy of Battle Royale is still preferable viewing fare compared to most sparkly Blu-Ray releases to date.
I can’t help but be colored by the behind-the-scenes rigmarole I’d heard about this. No, that one wasn’t a race joke. Jesus, just keep up here, you’re trying too hard now. These days, I have a hard time trusting the Weinsteins, and not for the reason you think (and you should be ashamed of yourself, really, because it’s only okay when I do it since I’m a minority trying to right inequities, you big racist jackass). Well, unless you think the reason is because they really fucked up releasing Stephen Chow’s movies over here and hobbled Grindhouse by declaring it an utter failure. At any rate, I’d heard they were unhappy with the reaction this thing got at Cannes, and mandated some alterations. So, I’ve taken that ball and run with it (which I believe constitutes illegal motion or “traveling” in some sports), and decided to scapegoat Harvey and the other one for everything I didn’t like about the movie. Apparently, this is because I have a desperate need to deify Wong Kar-Wai. As such, I’m blaming the re-editing and such for the fact that the end of the movie simply did not sit right with me, since the alternative is to admit with some level of finality that I’ve truly become incapable of sympathy, hope or love.
Still, as far as movies with Natalie Portman and Jude Law, I’d pick this one in a heartbeat over Closer, which is what makes me better than you. You know who you are.