andrew-1283
Interesting sub plot. There is an African who wants to fly the plane used by some nuns. The priest/pilot tells him no. After several flights distributing aid, sky diving etc, the nuns depart for Rome to meet the Pope. They take off. The African is seen towing a sort of ju ju model plane, which he is not handling very well. Next scene shows that the real plane has crashed, killing all on board. Moral seems to be that witchcraft is stronger than catholicism. Fits in with overall theme of the film, that blind faith in something will work for a while, but ultimately you have to face reality, which is bleak. Not a film to watch if you are depressed.
MacAindrais
Mister Lonely (2008) **** Well, it's been 8 years since Harmony Korine made a film. The last time we saw him was in Julien Donkey-Boy, before that Gummo. Both those movies passed through eyes of which the majority had no understanding. Roger Ebert, in his review of Julien Donkey Boy, referred to Korine as on a list with such names as Herzog, Cassevetes, Tarkovsky, Brakhage, Godard, etc. The reason: because he smashed the boundaries of how a conventional filmmaker would have told such tales. He also pointed out the near death of the underground film scene. There once was a time when if you were a film buff, you sought out films like these, and sat willfully in old one screen cinemas. And you were not alone: It's hard to believe now, but yes people lined up around street corners to see the Godard's or Tarkovsky's. Now those lineups are reserved for the likes of Pirates of the Caribbean and Spiderman.That kind of film buff is now a rare breed. We exist, and gleefully buy our tickets and run to the theatres, but we're no longer shoulder to shoulder or lined up around the corner. Take as an anecdote a few trips made to my local film festival. I saw a Bela Tarr film, and in my idealism rushed to get there early so i could get a seat. Though later I realized that the auditorium was only maybe half full, at best, in one of the smallest auditoriums in the city. When I first saw Mister Lonely, it was of course the same.But I digress. The point? Mister Lonely, like Korine's two previous directorial outings, dare to be different, dare to be bold, and so are destined to go unappreciated. Even Ebert, who praised Julien Donkey-Boy only gave the film 2 stars - though he did wish he could give a 2 star positive review. The problem with making a film like Mister Lonely is that its so odd that everyone gets caught up on the oddity. A common gripe: "sure its original, but what's the point?" Mister Lonely, written by Korine and his brother Avi, sets its sights on the world of celebrity impersonators. Mainly are Michael Jackson (Luna) and Marilyn Monroe (Morton). He meets her while working a bizarre gig at an old folks home, as they sit half amused, half catatonic. She invites him back to her commune in the highlands of Scotland, inhabited by their kind: Abe Lincoln, James Dean, Madonna, the Queen, the Pope, Little Red Riding Hood, the Three Stooges, and Charlie Chaplin and Shirley Temple, who are her husband and daughter, respectively of course. They live in their own world. The only thing that ties them to the real world is a flock of sheep. To them, their world seems as perfect as they want it to be, for they are the truest souls of all as they cloak themselves in the lives and manners of others. Or so that is their claim. To showcase their talents and philosophy, they build a theatre where they will put on shows for themselves, and the townsfolk.Although their is light heartedness and tender sweetness, something else seems to be sinister. Charlie Chaplin is an egomaniac, and emotionally abusive towards his wife, Marylin Monroe. To everyone else he is courteous and, well, Chaplin-esquire. She tells him that sometimes he looks more like Hitler than Chaplin.Though the film retains its tenderness, its big shift comes with the slaughter of sheep. They are infected, and even the living must be killed. All gather round as Larry, Curly and Moe pull the triggers of double barrel shotguns. In a way, their fantasy reality is not so much shattered, but breached.Punctuating this is a story about flying nuns, who believe that they can jump from the priests plane (played with absurd hilarity by Werner Herzog himself) and land safely on the ground below.Although Korine has always found the beauty in his own chaos, Mister Lonely is a much more aesthetic film than his others. It has a certain level of visual prestige that few others would even strive to. Many images are quite simply breathtaking. The sequences of Nuns, accentuated in their sky blue robes against the sky blue skies are some of my favorite in any film.And, yes, there is a point. What is it? I think I know, though I'm positive its up to some personal interpretation. And for that matter, a review is not the proper place for such a discussion. This much can be said though, its poignant, touching, and genuinely heartbreaking and life affirming at once.Films like this exist to be based solely upon their own merit. Even though Mister Lonely has some thematic similarities to, say, Sweet Movie (which Korine has said was an influence on his career), it is still something all together unique.The problem with films like Mister Lonely, though, is that they must be taken totally literally or not at all, or maybe both at the same time. That is a lot to ask of an audience, especially now. But, I ask, is that not the point of good film-making? And Besides, where else can you see the Pope sleeping with the Queen? The Three Stooges killing sheep? Michal Jackson play ping pong with Charlie Chaplin? Or maybe James Dean hang out by a swing with Madonna and Shirley Temple? Where I ask you, where!
Capo-idFilm
Korine's established himself, by now, as a talented and impressive image-maker. The promotional posters for Mister Lonely all include the film's most impressive compositions (though there's one in particular I've yet to see in promo material: that of a blue-clad nun teasing a dog with a stick, surrounded by green forest with torrential rain pouring down). The opening images of this film, of Michael Jackson lookalike (Diego Luna) riding a small motorbike round a track, is strangely compelling and beautiful: Roy Orbison's "Mister Lonely" plays on the soundtrack, and the images unfold in slow-motion. There's also a funny and terrific sequence in which the same character mimes a dance, without music (though a radio sits like a silent dog next to him), in the middle of a Paris street; Korine splices in sound effects and jump-cuts that evoke both a feeling of futility and dogged liberation in the character's dance routine.The first instance of the segment dealing with the nuns is also strangely poignant; Father Umbrillo (Werner Herzog) is an autocratic priest about to fly with some nuns over, and drop food into, impoverished areas nearby. In a scene that is both light-hearted and affecting, Herzog must deal with a stubbornly enthusiastic local who wishes to make the plane trip with them in order to see his wife in San Francisco. As the exchange develops, Herzog draws out of the man a confession: he has sinned, and his frequent infidelity is the cause of his wife having left him in the first place. This scene, short and sweet, gains particular weight after one learns its improvised origins: the sinner is played by a non-actor who was on set when Korine and co. were filming - and his adulterous ways had given him, in real life, a lasting, overwhelming guilt.Henceforth, the film is hit-and-miss; a succession of intrinsically interesting moments that add to a frivolous, muddled narrative. Whereas Gummo and Julien Donkey-Boy maintain their aesthetic and emotional weight via coherent structural frameworks, Mister Lonely feels like a victim of editing room ruthlessness. A few scenes were cut from the film, which would have otherwise painted fuller pictures of certain characters, due to continuity errors in costume - a result, no doubt, due to the absence of a shooting script and Korine's tendency for improvisation. One deleted scene in particular - in which 'Charlie Chaplin' (Denis Lavant) and 'Madonna' (Melita Morgan) have sex - would have added much more emotional conflict to a scene later on in the film (I won't spoil it, but it's there to deflate any feeling of warmth or celebration, and, as it is, only half-succeeds).The two strands of the narrative, unconnected literally, are best approached as two entirely different stories with the same allegorical meaning; one compliments the other and vice versa. (It's something to do with the conflict between one's ambitions and the reality of the current situation.) But there's not enough of the Herzog scenes to merit their place in the film, and so any connection between these two allegorically-connected threads is inevitably strained - and the inclusion is, in retrospect, tedious.This is an ambitious step forward from Julien Donkey-Boy that suffers mostly, at least in the lookalike segments, from having far too many characters for the film's running length, a flaw that would have been even worse had big star names played everyone (as was originally planned).With many of the imagery's self-contained beauty, and moments of real, genuine connection with the soundtrack, this feels like it'd be much more suited to an art installation or photo exhibition. As an exploration of mimesis and the nature of impersonation, it'd lose none of its power - indeed, for me, it would perhaps be more impressive. The loneliness attached to iconic performativity (such as that encountered by both the icons themselves and those who aspire to be like them) is well-captured in images such as that wherein 'Marilyn Monroe' (a gorgeous Samantha Morton) seduces the camera with a Seven Year Itch pose in the middle of a forest, or when 'Sammy Davis, Jr.' (Jason Pennycooke) settles, post-dance rehearsal, with his back to the camera overlooking an incredible, tranquil lake.As it is, moments like these, and all those where the titles of randomly-chosen Michael Jackson songs crawl across the scene, are married to one another in a film narrative far less affecting than it should be.(For those who see it, I lost all faith during the egg-singing scene, late on. You'll know which scene I mean because it sticks out like a sore thumb, as some sort of gimmicky attempt at the new cinematic language for which Korine has previously been hailed.)
