Shotgun Stories (Nichols, 2008)

Is it too early to call Jeff Nichols’ Shotgun Stories the American film of the year? Probably, but it’s a devastating masterpiece all the same, a film consumed by a generational hatred occurring on multiple levels between two sets of half-brothers feuding over the honor of their recently deceased father. Unlike typical Hollywood representations of the deep South and it’s inhabitants, Shotgun Stories depicts a complex locale and population embalmed by the silence of a beautiful and longing countryside, entrenched in the daily routine of a slow-paced existence completely at peace with itself. But underneath the wide shots of open fields, stagnant rivers, and desolate country roads lies a forging tension, layered by generations of past experiences which have carved these characters into ticking time bombs. On one side Son (Michael Shannon), Boy (Douglas Ligon), and Kid (Barlow Jacobs), remember a drunk father who they’ve hated all their lives, and on on the other, four young men of the same patriarch who represent a more affluent, born again affinity. The impending clashes occur offscreen, and we are left, like the characters, with the consequences of their violent actions. Shotgun Stories paints a very American nightmare, where vengeance is validated through the protection of family, property, and honor, no matter who gets caught in the crossfire. The most interesting aspect of Shotgun Stories remains the unseen influence parental control has over the hatred, ignorance, and destruction of a family torn apart by years of division. When a Civil War of such glaring complexity achieves this a high level of involvement and tension, the end result is nothing short of breathtaking.

Lorenzo’s Oil (Miller, 1992)

A relentlessly sad Hollywood tearjerker, but one that reveals a great deal about George Miller the humanist. Being an M.D., Miller must have responded to the devastating material from more than just a filmmaking perspective. With Lorenzo’s Oil, he compassionately charts the slow and painful decline of a sweet young boy suffering from a brain disease called ADL, most decisively through an emphasis on self education (by his parents played by Susan Sarandon and Nick Nolte) in the face of a disintegrating way of life (definite thematic parallels to the Mad Max Trilogy and Witches of Eastwick). For Miller, expertise of a certain environment (or disease in this case) equates to the best chance for survival, and in this particular work there’s a great respect for medical treatments, doctors, and the process of healing. Lorenzo’s Oil begins with a telling quote that could sum up this methodology and Miller’s filmography as a whole; “Life is in the struggle…triumph and defeat are in the hands of the Gods.” Whether its seen through the eyes of Mad Max, Lorenzo, or the little pig Babe, for George Miller the battle between man and nature is a never-ending process of highs and lows, hopes and failures, and the small joys of experience shine through these tense altercations. The end result, while always crucial and essential, seems to be more elusive and disappointing than the wonders of the process at hand, a paradox which seems both endlessly fascinating and frustrating.

The Witches of Eastwick (Miller, 1987)

Quite ridiculous, overblown, and displays some of the lamest special effects imaginable. It’s definitely the worst George Miller film I’ve seen thus far. Here are a few salvaged images of interest that resonate with Miller motifs (instead of the brown hell of Mad Max we get the fertile (in more ways than one) green of Eastwick. 

Twilight Zone: The Movie (Landis, Spielberg, Dante, Miller, 1984)

Thankfully for my purposes, George Miller’s segment “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” (a remake of the Richard Matheson penned/Richard Donner helmed episode from 1963) turns out to be the best of an uninspiring bunch, exhibiting a sense of space and ambiguity the other stories lack. Once again, Miller deals with battling environments, showing John Lithgow’s nervous passenger trapped inside a caged vision of technology while nature’s wrath (personified by the crazed monster on the wing) attempts to break through several manmade barriers. This separation disintegrates when Lithgow shoots out one of the plane’s windows and comes face to face with the beast, his head fittingly coated with a shin of ice while the other passengers attempt to pull him back in and recover the sanitized environment or air travel.

Charlie Bartlett (Poll, 2008)

When Chicago Reader film critic Jonathan Rosenbaum (now recently retired) championed Charlie Bartlett earlier in the year, comparing it to the great Pump Up the Volume, the film became a must-see for me (his review can be found here).  Like countless other edgy teen fare, the film delves into a treasure trove of high school angst, anger, and aggression, cultivating a series of fascinating commentaries on the sheer lack of dimensional characters in youth movies today. The fact Charlie Bartlett shows its young characters in a complex light makes it better than most modern teen films. Charlie Bartlett (played with ease by Anton Yelchin), the film’s engaging but misguided young hero, comes to represent the blinding innovation of a Youtube generation mired in passive aggressive technologies and prescription medications. After a spell selling meds to his classmates in an attempt to gain popularity, Charlie begins to understand the ramifications of his actions (stressed by Robert Downy Jr.’s devastatingly sad school principal). Charlie’s acceptance to realize his own misgivings and complexities enables him to become a better leader, something both the students and the adults in the film begin to appreciate. Charlie Bartlett functions best as a character study on the tension between potential and doubt, giving those with plenty of both a familiar and tortured voice to understand and contemplate.

Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome (Miller, Ogilvie, 1985)

George Miller creates a complete stylistic reversal with Beyond Thunderdome, replacing the open and desolate frames of Mad Max and The Road Warrior with busy compositions bursting with cluttered interiors and primitive warriors caged by a shrinking world of sand and shit. Even the exterior action scenes represent a cluster of suffocating motion. It’s as if the clash between natural beauty and technology has produced a sandy purgatory where humans eager to experience a world long forgotten return to incomplete origin stories for comfort and hope. While not a great film by any measure, Beyond Thunderdome sports many interesting scenes which complicate and expand Miller’s obsessions with wide screen photography and environmental mise-en-scene. Here are a few examples.