Mirror Mirror

Don't Trust Anyone Over Four Feet
or
"No, Snow!  Don't Mess with Traditional Story-Telling!  It's Been Focus-Grouped, and It Works!!"

I approached Mirror Mirror with some trepidation.  It's the sort of movie that curdles my gray matter—taking a traditional fairy-tale and updating it for modern audiences, with anachronisms, modern slang and catch-phrases, a fractured fairy-tale denying its origins and playing "hip."  Also, it's a  Julia Roberts vehicle and I don't "buy" Roberts in anything but comedic roles (which this one is).

But the other choice was to see Wrath of the Titans, for which I had no desire (Really? They're trying to make a franchise out of that one?) and so it was the "Snow White" knock-off, even though the prospect seemed rather Grimm.

It did have one thing going for it, however.  Even though produced by Brett Ratner, it was being directed by an inspired choice—Tarsem, who vaulted from R.E.M. music videos to The Cell,* then rebounded with a fine film no one bothered to see, The Fall.  I'd passed on his Immortals last year (though I plan to watch it on video sometime soon, now that it's out), but, as Tarsem can do some visionary work, he just might be able to pull it off.

It might well have been lame in any other hands, but the director's spectacular design sense, not only for sets and costumes, but also how to frame them for maximum effect is combined with a breezy comedy style that is never idle, and never hangs for a laugh, so that not only is the frame full, but the soundtrack as well, with one overhanging punch-line that crowds through before each cut.

And yes, it's anachronistic, with such a polyglot of styles that it goes beyond, say, Terry Gilliam-madness into a Moulin Rouge!-ish goofy slap-dashery in which nothing is sacred except the movie's own internal rules of play, stopping just short of the Python-line of anarchy.  There is no single accent in place to latch onto geographically, except for some Anglo-Saxonisms—indeed, Arnie Hammer's Prince Alcott of Valencia, is pure American, but does it with such Ivy-League bravado that you accept he's a prince.

And this variation of the story has just enough "Hamlet" mixed in—Ms. White (an Audrey Hepburn-esque Lily Collins) is the daughter of The King, who is murdered (unbeknownst to all) by his new step-wife The Queen (Roberts), who then rules the Kingdom into the ground, while White awaits taking the throne on her 18th birthday (that is, if the Queen ever permits it).  Instead, she spends it going out to see what's become of her Father's legacy and is distressed to learn there's no singing and dancing in the streets (as she remembers) but begging and poverty instead.  This causes a political debate in the family, leading to Snow being banished by The Queen to be dispatched by her lackey Brighton (played with Costello-ish consternation by Nathan Lane).

Along the way, we meet the handsome Prince (Hammer, who is aggressively great here, better than his Winklevoss twins in The Social Network, and decidedly better than being cocooned in make-up for J. Edgar, one thinks though that he is doomed to play scions), who is accosted by highwaymen...who just happen to be The Seven Dwarves (Napoleon, Half-pint, Grub, Grimm, Wolf, Butcher, and...Chuck, played with gruff zeal distinctively, by Jordan Prentice,Mark Povinelli, Joe Gnoffo, Danny Woodburn, Sebastian Saraceno, Martin Klebba,and...Ronald Lee Clark, all threatening to steal the show, as well—"beats workin' in a mine," as one of them says).  Before long, everybody's path is crossed once or twice, along with swords and stars in lovers' eyes.

Thing is, in its cartoonish way, it works in live-action, as well as when Disney goes sassy these days with classic tales, and, given the edge by Tarsem's crack sense of timing and way of knowing no bounds in design and camera moves (and Alan Menken's Mickey-Mousing** score doesn't hurt in that regard, either) the effect is somewhat the same.

Walked in loathing the idea and walked out kinda lovin' it.  Pretty happy about that, given the Grimm prospects.  Seems fair, if not the fairest of them all.


Mirror Mirror is a Matinee.

The music video in the End Credits, which shows how Tarsem throws things in from left field, as in this "Bollywood" style sequence.

*
Another example of Tarsem's work—a cheeky gladiator themed Pepsi commercial, featuring Enrique Eglesias, Beyonce, Britney Spears and Pink, with the music of Queen.

** © Disney Corporation.  I use this in the musical definition of the term (not in its "common, inferior" usage) where the music follows the action on-screen precisely, as in notes that follow foot-steps, say.

Georgia (1995)

"Georgia" (Ulu Grosbard, 1995) One of those car-crashes of a movie that is tough to take your eyes away from. Belgian-born Ulu Grosbard is a gifted stage director whose gifts don't translate that well to screen although he is a favorite of actors Dustin Hoffman and Robert De Niro. As tamped down and graceless as his movies are in order to avoid melodrama, they also communicate a falseness of circumstance.

There's a concert staged early on in the film where the audience reacts counter to what's going on with the performances on-screen—the point that audiences will respond to a singer's sedate performance and barge over a soloist's part is a conceit to stack the dramatic deck, but it feels wrong, not because its communicating an obvious character point, but as an anomaly to reality. We are meant to see sister Sadie (Jennifer Jason Leigh) basking in the glow of Georgia Flood's performance (Mare Winningham and Leigh both do their own vocals) as if it was her own, and the director wants to show that in the middle of the song (the traditional "Hard Times," which will become important later) rather than in an ovation at the end of it.

Despite the Winningham character's titular position, it is Leigh's Sadie that is the focus of the movie. It is a whirl-wind of a performance, sometimes falling off the tracks a bit as Sadie is a vagabond in a life that's not quite hers but lived in the shadow of her sister's. As Georgia is a singer, Sadie insists on being a singer, too, although she can't hold a note and can do little better than bellow and growl her way through any song. Georgia's ex-manager husband (Ted Levine) calls her "original and brave and not malicious." Georgia finds her a pain in the neck, a wind-tossed ship always about to hit the rocks, if not for the harbor that Georgia provides.

It's the only control Sadie knows, and even that grates on her. Perpetually soused or stoned, one of her band-mates warns her that this time she has to "show up standing up," preferably both. But even that's too much. Sadie continually spirals between getting-by and the bottom of the barrel leading to her untouchable reflection. She looks to her sister's life and covets it as much as she despises it, even entering into an instant marriage with a love-sick grocery delivery boy who shows up at her door-step to create some kind of pathetic devotion.

But the screenplay (by Leigh's mother Barbara Turner) saves the best lesson for last as both sister's—one at a concert venue, the other at a dive bar—do their own version of Georgia's signature "Hard Times," the veteran's soft and trill, the other's hard and rasping—and you wonder, which artisan's is the most valid: the soft comforting professional one, or the beaten-down craggy one that exposes every scar on the vocal chords? Which speaks the better truth of "Hard Times?"

Filmed in Seattle, it does make the city look fairly cosmopolitan (and even shows the lobby of Bad Animals Studio!)