nixsight

A light week, this week, as I only actually managed to watch two films:

Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned

I found out yesterday that Laurence Fishburne will be joining the CSI cast next season, and I have to admit, I got a little excited. CSI is dumb TV, but it’s a piece of bubblegum we really enjoy – and Fishburne is one of my favourite actors – or at least was, until the Matrix movies diluted his impact.

By coincidence, the weekend found me watching this movie again, as research for something I’m working on.

“Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned” is based on a book of the same name by Walter Mosley. In it, and in the follow-up volume “Walking The Dog”, Mosley writes a series of short stories and vignettes featuring Socrates Fortlow, an ex-convict who has served his time for a rape/double-murder, and now struggles to live a life on the side of right, and free of violence.

The film follows Socrates through the same period of his life as the book, although instead of distinct short narratives with longer plots woven through them, the script, which Mosley also wrote, opts for a more traditional film method, switching from one thread of Socrates’ life to another. Although sometimes this can be distracting, it does give a clear and natural sense of stepping into a life in progress.

In both media, Socrates is a layered and conflicted character, his natural instincts for violence vying with the more philosophical bent that he has adopted to atone for his past life. The film version is less meditative, and more impulsive, than I remember him being – I should really go back and read the books again, because this may be a memory glitch – but the conflict between his past behaviour and the moral quandaries he finds himself in remain, and are fairly compulsive viewing.

Fortlow’s frenetic nature might be as much to do with Fishburne’s performance as to any changes made for the screen. Here, at times, Fishburne brings the stage to the part, making the character more physical in his momentary bursts of anger than I expected, and than might be necessary when the camera can get so much more intimate.

But once you settle into the film, there is something almost hypnotic about watching the man work with a character that has so many levels of response – at points of tension, you find yourself actually scared by his intensity, and of what he might do – at more tender or emotional times the viewer is utterly absorbed by his relationships with others.

This sensitivity is most obvious in his encounters with his best friend, Right, his friend’s wife Corina, and the young orphan Darryl. All of these characters are played excellently – and in fact, the whole supporting cast do an excellent job. Right, played by Bill Cobbs, provides a near-omnipotent narration to the film, which at times seems unnecessary, but the depth and tempo of his voice makes it appealing anyway – he provided similar comfort narration in “The Hudsucker Proxy”, so maybe I’m just programmed to chill right out when I hear him.

The direction of the film is functional – Apted has a soft touch when it comes to the subject matter, which means that the viewer isn’t often wowed, but it does give the locations – all urban LA – and the performances room to breathe.

The soundtrack – provided by Michael Franti – also stays out of the way for the most part, providing a soft soulful backdrop to the action – drifting into a freestyle jazz mode when it seems appropriate. This was actually a bit of a dissapointment for me, because Franti’s name on the poster was something that I remembered from years before actually watching the film, and I’m a huge fan of his. But he hides in the incidental music, and the smoothness of his voice and urban edge of his lyrics aren’t present here.

It’s a good film, though. It lacks the hard purpose of a blockbuster or mainstream film, but the characters and ideology here is sound, and the performances elevate it.

Syriana

Syriana is an entirely different affair.

While Mosley – through Socrates – states the importance of finding and adhering to a particular morality or ideology while living in a complicated and sometimes dangerous world, “Syriana” very deliberately tries – and mostly succeeds – to take a neutral look at a very complex set of conditions.

Stephen Gaghan’s large-scale ensemble piece concerns itself with the wide-reaching social, economical and political situation around a fictional oil-rich mid-east country – never named – and the players and bystanders involved in the brokering of deals between US oil businesses and that country, and the corruption that this often breeds.

The way Gaghan has decided to tell this story is to knit a narrative that takes in as many different factors that might affect this situation as possible. It’s difficult to give a sense of what this means without going into too much detail, but we see – from many different points of view and threads that run through the film – the rise of a bitter but idealistic prince, eager for reform – the family tragedy of an economist, who through that tragedy finds himself aligned with the prince – the seemingly unconnected account of the difficulties faced by a migrant Pakistani worker, and the support that he finds amid fundamentalism – an investigation into corrupt corporate practices in the US, and the pragmatism and double-dealing that goes on during it – and the story of a CIA operative with long experience of the Middle East who finds himself discarded by his handlers.

Each of these threads is well-realised, and surrounded by it’s own supporting cast and sub-plots, and each of these in turn is part of the intricate pattern of cause/effect and special interests that unfolds, and that tries, in some way, to explain the state that we find the world in today.

Syriana isn’t an easy film. Very little is explained as the narrative rolls on, and we find ourselves thrown into a series of situations already ongoing. At the same time, we are given little to go on about the characters, and their motivations, and have to build a picture of each of them based on their actions and decisions – there is little editorialising or exposition here.

I’m probably trained to watch such films – five seasons of “The Wire” have taught me to be patient and allow a narrative to wash over me, finding my own meaning as I go, and seven seasons of “The West Wing” have shown me that sometimes, with complex political and economic stuff, you can get by on understanding the gist, as long as you’re open to the wider implications of the quieter conversations.

At the same time, Gaghan goes to some pains to create balance here, although of course complaints have been made that this isn’t the case. It’s true that the slippery nature of the Western business dealings, and the callousness with which Clooney’s loyal spy is treated, will paint a picture for the audience, but at the same time, it is easy enough to believe that these are realistic patterns of behaviour for people with the comfort of distance from the world that their decisions affect.

Certainly, unlike other stories that deal with similar subject matter, this film shows each character’s motives as organic – and even when an individual or group is in the process of doing something that damages or even destroys another, the events leading up to that action forces the viewer to question whether or not they would do anything different.

It’s a thought-provoking film, and I think I loved it a little. Clooney is perfectly low-key, Christopher Plummer – unlike anyone else in the movie – gets to have delicious fun with his role, Matt Damon and Amanda Peet do great work as possibly the only people with normal lives throughout, and Jeffrey Wright plays his part with a depth that is stealthy and moving. It’s one of the few American films I’ve seen that comes up with an alternative – and I feel probably realistic – economic/sociological reason for terrorism, that doesn’t once use the words “evil” or “insane”.

J, I have no idea why you didn’t push me to watch it sooner </private joke>

I suppose in some ways, these two films are very similar. Both are rooted very firmly in the real world, and both are focussed on actions and the consequences of those actions. The difference is that Socrates world, by necessity, is very black and white – the first film is all about being aware of, and taking account of, the consequences of personal actions, whereas the latter seems to take the view that the decisions that one person makes are often the consequences of someone elses.