Manhattan Digest

What is it that really defines a movie as being great in this day and age? Is spectacular writing ultimately what holds movies together, or how about the acting, as people generally seem to always incite on a performance? Many will also tell you that the technical merits of filmmaking, like editing and direction, are the most crucial components to making great cinema, and many of those same people would also tell you that there’s a critical lack of “real” cinematography in contemporary films. I honestly feel that all these elements are necessary towards making a good film, but a great one is a bit trickier. As an appreciator of film, and the viewer of so many, I have finally found myself tring to really pin down what a film needs to have in order for me to deem it a “must-see” or “instant-classic” or whatever critic slogan seems most approriate. A film has to really speak to me, be at least partially original, and also justify it’s existence as a film over any other form of medium. If a film can pull that off, along with the aforementioned quality concerns, then it stands a chance of me deeming it a masterpiece. It can take some time for me to really assess a film and decide on it’s merit, but I can gladly say that Before Midnight has certainly come closer than most.

Before Midnight is indeed the second sequel to the 1995 film Before Sunrise, which was followed by Before Sunset in 2004. For a refresher course on the two preceding films (which in all honesty you should have seen already), Before Sunrise was about a chance meeting between an American named Jesse (Ethan Hawke), and a young French woman named Céline (Julie Delpy). The two spend a passionate night together and vowed to reunite, unfortunately it doesn’t happen for another 9 years (see Before Sunset), when Jesse has now become a successful author, and lures Céline to meet him after making her a character in his book. Thus, this brings us to Before Midnight, coming 9 years after the last film, and finding Jesse and Céline as a couple, who now have a pair of twin daughters. Like the previous films, Before Midnight takes place in one day, and finds our couple reaching yet another crossroads in their relationship.

Linklater has always impressed me as a filmmaker as he has always managed to make his films ambitious, yet resoundingly simple. His 1991 film Slacker is often considered the progenitor of the 90s independent film boom, even though it’s essentially just a set of short films pasted together in a manner that’s kind of half-clever. Still, the film fluctuated on Linklater’s brilliant sense on nailing down a cultural aesthetic, which he would then go on to drive Dazed and Confused and even his more mainstream work like School of Rock. The Before movies, however, have always come off as more singular in his filmography. While each film is basically minimalistic, as the camera is never averted from either Jesse or Céline, yet they still stand as a testament towards what a powerhouse this trio is. Hawke, and Delpy never cease to amaze as this young couple, who seem so immersed in their roles it would seem fool-hardy to say that the actors themselves can’t possibly be in love. Linklater also proves his worth as an observational director in these films, as he’ll often have very long takes before cutting.

Before Midnight certainly has all of those hallmarks from it’s prequels, but the three contributors has only grown richer in their output as they’ve grown older. This is best exemplified in a scene during the first act where we see Jesse and Céline driving a car through the Greek countryside, with their twin daughters calmly asleep in the back. We hear the couple converse on their woes, with Céline exposing her frustrations on her career path, while Jesse talks about how he feels that he’s grown to detached from the son he had with his ex-wife. All the while the camera stays on the two characters without cutting for minutes, while their ethereal twin daughters lie in the back seat. It serves as a very thoughtful reminder of why Linklater, Hawke, and Delpy have had the creative stamina to create these films for two decades now: they really mine perfection from each other.

The tried-and-true formula of the previous two films follows through for most of the film’s running time. Still, I think that fans of the first two films might be rather surprised by the film’s climax. One could make a case that this is the sexiest of the three films as we actually get to see some hanky-panky between the two leads (as parents no less!), but wait till you see what the film’s half-sex-scene leads up too. Of the entire three-part saga, this one scene was the only one that really made me feel distraught. I found myself feeling real empathy for these characters, whom I had come to know over these three films, and really felt how they had matured. Thing was, the scene also very funny in parts too (“You are the mayor of crazy town”) , and certainly familiar for anyone who has been in a long-term relationship. It all leads up to a final scene which ends the film in a similar fashion to the previous movies: ambiguous, and more than a little bit hopeful.

So getting back to what I brought up earlier, about how I judge a film on how it justifies it’s existence, I feel what makes Before Midnight such a resonant and sublime film is in how the whole film functions as the Before series third-act. By incorporating our prior knowledge of Jesse and Céline, the film resounds in emotional affection, as we feel ever-grateful to take another brief glimpse into their lives. It’s the most dramatic and sad of the three films, but it also is a very spirited reminder of the bliss and cautions of true love. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the gang decided to get together for a fourth go-round within the next decade (and we all not-so-secretly hope they do too), but if not then this is a fine cap-stone for what is destined to go down as one of the most evolving and satisfying movie series of our time (see them all straight through and you’ll realize that this last sentence isn’t bombastic at all).

New York is a great place to live right now, eh? In terms of people, landmarks, culture, entertainment, and opportunity, this city just seems to have it all…if you’re a 20-something. As much as I feel New York is the raddest place in the world right now, I’ll often find people from earlier generations (be them aging punk rockers, artists, poets, etc.) who tell me that something’s missing from the city now-a-days. They’ll explain that New York used to have real spunk, grit, and livelihood to it, and that gentrification has basically transformed the city into a post-collegiate dorm (well, at least in Brooklyn, anyway). I was finding these statements rather provocative, especially as before I was an actual resident of the city, I always dreamed of what it would be like to live in it. Growing up I was infatuated by the rough lifestyles depicted by New York City rappers, and as a college student, Woody Allen lead me to believe that New York was the intellectual mecca of the world. Upon moving to the city in 2011, I did notice that the New York I envisioned was a bit more buried in our I-pod generation, but maybe that’s fine. Retro New York is still alive and well in these times, and filmmaker Noah Baumback and actress Greta Gerwig seem to understand that to the letter.

Noah Baumbach’s 7th feature film, Frances Ha, really couldn’t have come at a better time as it really understands the appeal of New York’s classical status, while also delivering a potent sense of the modern zeitgeist that has swept the city’s contemporary aesthetic. The film is an independent comedy with light dramatic elements, that follows Frances (Greta Gerwig), a 27-year-old dancer living in New York with her best friend Sophie (Mickey Sumner). The two have been close since college, and they’re almost always in a playful mood with each other, even if their monetary/relationship problems are never far away. When Sophie reveals that she’s decided to move to another apartment, Frances suddenly finds herself frustrated, and finds herself trying to find something new to rely on for comfort.

Right from the get-go, Frances Ha shamelessly wears it’s influences. Shot in black-and-white, set in New York and very reliant on dialogue and neuroticism, it’s hard not to remember the first time you saw Woody Allen’s Manhattan while you’re watching this film. Also, it’s understated cinematography, and bohemian aesthetic (not to mention a very humorous section that involves Frances going on a trip to Paris)  is clearly a name drop towards French New Wave pioneer Jean-Luc Godard. Baumbach has made no bones about it either, stating in interviews that those two film makers were principal influences for Frances Ha. It’s always admirable to see a film maker try to channel the works of the greats through their own material (as long as they don’t cross the line into cheap-rip-off territory), but what’s really remarkable about Frances Ha is that it still manages to feel modern and necessary in it’s own right.

The story forgoes a traditional sense of arc, and it immediately becomes clear that the film has an intentionally jumpy narrative to it. The script (written by Baumbach and Gerwig) never wastes too much time on a particular scene with plenty not even lasting a minute. The film definitely survives on it’s clever editing, which utilizes the occasional montage sequence or brief set-up shot to infer to the audience what’s going on. Roughly a year goes by in the film’s storyline, which could have been hard to pull-off in a satisfying way given’s the film’s brief length (85 Minutes) and minimalist design. That simply isn’t the case the case though, and it’s not just the film making that achieves this, but Gerwig’s stupendous performance.

It just seems so hackneyed an expression to refer to a young actress having a “breakout” role in a film, but Greta Gerwig really has deserved that distinction here. Since appearing in Baumbach’s last film Greenberg, she and the filmmaker would begin dating, which is the most likely reason that both of these people seem to so much want to share this Frances character of theirs’. Gerwig is an absolute joy to watch in her role, as Frances is quirky, clutzy, and adorable in a way that Zooey Deschanal is overrated for, and even though she’s in virtually every shot of the film, not once is her performance ever repetitive. In lesser hands the character could have been frankly annoying as her mannerisms are often awkward, and her ironic use of slang words has become common place in today’s hip-hop saturated culture. Fortunately though, Gerwig’s nuance makes Frances nothing short of endearing, and we do really get a sense of character development throughout her endeavors. Honestly, a montage sequence that involves Frances gleefully dancing around Manhattan to David Bowie’s Modern Love is the closest thing I’ve seen to movie magic so far this year.

It’s almost guaranteed that Frances Ha is going to incite comparisons to the work of Lena Dunham, and not just because Adam Driver has a role in the cast. Like Girls and Tiny Furniture, this film is about the limbo period of 20-something life, when people are drifting between the optimism of their college days, to the more-present internal fears of not finding a true sense of success in today’s sketchy job market and prolonged period of adolescent tendencies. One thing about Frances Ha that truly usurps Dunham’s work (and it pains me to say it as I am a huge Girls fan) is that it features an instantly likable main character, whom you can easily root for, and laugh with. It’s possibly the first film of the ’10s that really speaks to the generation, and it’s also a testament of Baumbach and Gerwig’s supreme connection. Like it’s title character, Frances Ha is giddy, energetic, artful, and more complex than meets the eye.