Friday, July 31, 2009

Tetro (2009)

In 1972, a film about a family swept the world by storm. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola, The Godfather was an epic retelling of King Lear in the wardrobe of the Sicilian Mafia in post-war America. The Godfather was a tale of brothers loving one another but chafing under sibling rivalry, partly born from the influence of a wise father. Coppola allowed the firmament to be the limit to his tale, and the picture was an instant classic which helped to alter the face of American cinema in the 1970s. Coppola's endearing, occasionally maddening fixation on the ties between brothers—brimming with trials and tribulations—continued in earnest with The Godfather: Part II as well as his essaying of adolescent brotherhood in The Outsiders and Rumble Fish. And so now it continues with Coppola's latest, Tetro.

Coppola's Tetro is a film that seeps into and out of the viewer like moisture. Iridescent and pellucid, fragmentary and oblique, all at once, it feels like a living organism that is ferociously but quietly seething, like an animal recently injured. Coppola veils this dyspeptic, tempestuous undercurrent with a luscious layer of visual serenity. It is like squeezing and spreading sweet frosting over a rough, nutty and tart apple coffeecake. Most of the film takes place in the ambiguously defined “present,” shot in an exquisitely sharp 2:35:1 with High Definition digital cameras employed by cinematographer Mihai Malaimare, Jr. to utter perfection. Few films shot in this format have so abundantly showcased the rationale for adopting the technology as Tetro, which creates nearly glittery palettes of richly-textured and -detailed tranquility. Coppola's Youth Without Youth was ponderous but inviting; cinematographically refined and polished, that picture was unfortunately too prepossessed with itself to completely, haphazardly present itself to the viewer the way two people first meet one another. Tetro is formal but with an unruly, brusque side, befitting its protagonist, the titular Tetro (a brooding, sullenly countenanced and erratically arbitrary yet entirely natural Vincent Gallo in one of the great performances of the decade); Coppola has resumed his dream to create bracing, personal art like a young, impulsive filmmaker with both everything and nothing to prove.

Coppola's Tetro is such an incredibly wounded film it could be just as ponderous and remote as Coppola's last film before it, but the director and screenwriter has allowed himself the room to navigate his personable tale of familial heartache and nearly-ensanguined tragedy. Periodically Coppola will intrude upon his own gloriously realized visage with pounding, startling excursions into the past, captured in comparatively grainy (shot on film), hand-held 1:85:1 color photography, looking like bumptious family video-camera shooting. These bubble up to the once-harmonious surface the way troubling, painful memories always do: the figures viewed as harmful, such as an imperious, egomaniacal and corrupt father figure (Klaus Maria Brandauer) are distorted, their faces always belying their spoken words. Vivid and eerily haunting, these episodic color sequences never disrupt Tetro's heedless momentum, and that has to do with Coppola's steady, almost omnipresent command—his Tetro feels like a film which, from the first frame onwards, is overlooked in its progression by its creator but never thwarted nor tripped up by ruinous excessive dabbling. That these episodes are also highly important in uncovering the shrouded truths of Tetro only increase their durability and import without ever diminishing the linear narrative's potency.

Everything about Tetro feels positively naïve in a most exuberantly beautiful way. Coppola has metamorphosed, it seems, and he follows through with the ostensible promise of his last film, which featured the word “Youth” not once but twice. Coppola's vernal sensibility is dazzlingly, deliciously refreshing. As too many truly young filmmakers exercise their craft under the umbrella of rampant, sometimes trendily poseur cynicism, Coppola at seventy years old is rediscovering youthfulness in its myriad sources of energy and genuineness. Tetro establishes that Coppola is not simply a votary—he has been quite truthful in his interviews: he has effectively gone back in time, and the results are exhilarating. Likewise, Coppola's insistence that he would think of Elia Kazan while shooting Tetro rings true as the film lingers within the mind. The performances seem to fit the black-and-white photography with a preternatural precision. Images of A Streetcar Named Desire, another classically-framed black-and-white drama with a nebulously humid and tropical environment (here Buenos Aires doubling for New Orleans), with characters revealing their true selves to the audience, one another and to themselves, flash as Tetro continues onward. Coppola nurtures these performances the way a gardener chaperons his beloved greenery. Coppola, it may be said, plays the sage father to the young performers, particularly the unknown Alden Ehrenreich as Bennie, whose limited on-screen dynamism may be chalked up to an inexperienced actor, or may be one of Coppola's ways to present the questioning character as a figure of comparative blankness. Since Bennie is the audience's surrogate—knowing as little about the enigmatic Tetro as the viewer—Coppola's drama begins with many a viewer perhaps holding onto Bennie the way a tired swimmer may grab a buoy in the ocean.

Quite gradually, however, Coppola and Gallo peel away the outer shell of Tetro, and this complex portrait is presented with an unapologetic, phlegmatic propinquity, displaying a fully formed being as a living, breathing perplexity. As the tale continues, it may be Tetro whose initially bizarre and perhaps outrageous behavior threatens to alienate some viewers, who is the more principled of the two brothers. Bennie's curiosity leads to breaking Tetro's trust—not an uncommon problem between family members, much less one in which the relationships are this strained. Tetro's live-in girlfriend, an angelically beautiful Argentinian named Miranda (a poignant Maribel Verdú), understands the titular figure in a way no other person on the world can. The back-story to their bond is afforded much needed time by Coppola and his legendary editing partner, Walter Murch, and so when that bond is tested by the imposition of Bennie, the breaking of Miranda's remarkable endurance in the face of Tetro's often overwhelming inability to display himself in all honesty to even her, much less to anyone else.

Coppola's indefatigable presence as an authentically Italian-American voice helps to shed light on the meanings of Tetro. Naturally, the picture is not “legitimately” autobiographical, but the truths the tale uncovers are so specific, they must at the very least touch a palpable chord with all who have felt the exhausting, desolating pain of a family compelled to lie to itself, or the ugliness of being hurt by those one loves. Like the adopted Tom Hagen in The Godfather: Part II, Bennie's near-idolization of Tetro only helps to make the bitter, salt-in-the-wounds lashing he receives from him sting all the more. (“Why do you hurt me, Michael?” Tom once asked.) Like a kaleidoscopic trip through Fellini's cinema, Tetro is at once burningly personal to its creator and doubtless deceptive in its myriad details. This mirrors the cryptic, only partially revelatory comments of the man behind the film. “Nothing in it happened, but it's all true,” Coppola has said of his latest opus. As the picture mirrors known aspects of Coppola's life—his father, like Tetro's, was a musical composer, and he has said that he has had a somewhat tumultuous relationship with his brother—Tetro is his most nakedly, vulnerably personal film.

It is parlous to delve too deeply into Tetro's filmic treasures. This is finally the consummation of Coppola's marriage between art and commercial demands, but now Coppola's artistically-minded focus—always operatic, here played out like a composition of Bellini or Verdi meshed with vaudevillian three-ring circuses that emit a rambunctious, anything-can-happen vibe and jubilantly hedonistic sexual discoveries (the latter both extending the kinship with Fellini)—is brighter, his instincts more pleasurably unrestrained. Many critics have failed Tetro because they have not caught on to Coppola's piquantly rediscovered virtuosity. The Godfather staged the death of a man's soul against the Catholic backdrop of baptism. In Tetro, the truths of family (“Every Family Has A Secret,” the film's tag-line promises) are so awful they make one recoil, and gaze, like a pitiful deer into ineffably, brilliantly blinding headlights. Yet Coppola does not relinquish his newfound youthful confidence—Tetro finally concludes on a note of resigned reconciliation. Thirty years ago, Coppola released Apocalypse Now, the film conventionally referred to as his final operatic masterpiece. In 2009, he has gifted filmgoers with another composition, and one of the best films of the year.


sean said...

My head and neck hurt from nodding so much with each line of this brilliant and wildly enthusiastic review.

Great piece Alexander and I'm glad you conveyed the feel of the movie without betraying the real secrets behind the story. Let everyone see it because it is a great movie.

Sam Juliano said...

Well, Alexander, I gave the film 4/5, but that's not quite high enough for me to call it one of the best pictures of the year. Inevitably, when risks are taken, and the film yields stylistic and textural complexities, there are bound to be missteps, which for me (but not for you) included the color sequences. In addition to your comprehensive examination of the film, I will add of course the extensive use of opera both in the actual story and in the narrative sweep. Coppola, of course, has always been a huge opera fan, and in TETRO, it's Offenbach's THE TALES OF HOFFMAAN with the famous severed head that takes a central role. The story has an operatic context, and Coppola conforms to the conventions so to speak.
Where we differ is with Gallo's performance. I felt he was distancing and lethargic, and you felt he gave one of the best performances of the decade. So on that count we go nowhere.

My favorite segment of this superlative review is unquestionably this:

"Coppola's Tetro is a film that seeps into and out of the viewer like moisture. Iridescent and pellucid, fragmentary and oblique, all at once, it feels like a living organism that is ferociously but quietly seething, like an animal recently injured. Coppola veils this dyspeptic, tempestuous undercurrent with a luscious layer of visual serenity. It is like squeezing and spreading sweet frosting over a rough, nutty and tart apple coffeecake."


In any case, I am happy the film worked as well as it did for you, and inspired you to score big once again!

Coffee Messiah said...

Thanks for the excellent review.

Checked the trailer and may have missed this in Chicago already (it may never play here in indy-anna, but will seek it out.

Cinematography beautiful and music very nice too.


tim watts said...

Just came home from this Alexander and read your piece. First off truly great work my friend. Amazingly erudite as always.

Second off I thought it was a great movie. One of Coppola's very best. I don't get a lot of these critics. Yeah it's not perfect but I'd rather have an imperfect movie that goes for broke then some average movie from the stupid studios these days.

Tonight I toast Coppola and Coleman!

Books, said...

Hi! Alexander,
All I can say is what a nice review...I hope to soon let Netflix in my order to watch all the current films (after they are no longer in the theatre) that other film goers, commenter, are watching and commenting on here on your blog.

Take care!
DeeDee ;-D

Anonymous said...

All I can say is amen. One of the best film of the year is right.

ben said...

pellucid fragmentary and read my mind exactly

Alexander Coleman said...

Sean: Thank you for the highly kind comments. I'm happy to read that we appear to have seen approximately the same film.

Sam: Thank you for the thorough comment, stating your own position--which honestly isn't terribly far from my own, but admittedly you are a little cooler towards the picture than I. One of the elements of the film I most admired was Gallo's and Coppola's sincerity. Gallo knows his character is one giant cliche; Coppola knows it, too. Tetro has made himself into a cliche, a trope, the "struggling artist," sensitive and tempestuous all at once. Unfortunately, as with cliches in general, there is a basis of truth behind it. Yet Coppola doesn't allow Tetro off the hook, nor does he apologize for him. In any event, we certainly had quite differing appreciations of Gallo's performance.

Great pointing to The Tales of Hoffman, Sam. The Michael Powell references were always interesting, and the nearly blinding color of that film juxtaposed with most of this picture's black-and-white schema was memorable, though I'm sure divisive among filmgoers.

Coffee Messiah: Thank you. I'm sad to hear that it appears you may not be seeing this in a theatre.

Tim: Thank you very much. Honored to be toasted alongside Coppola!

DeeDee: Knowing your love of film noir, you may certainly appreciate the black-and-white cinematography of Tetro. :-)

Anonymous: Thank you very much.

Ben: Ha.

Craig Kennedy said...

You've made me want to rewatch the film Alexander. Not a stretch since I loved it already, but nevertheless your thinking about it has gotten me peeling back layers I hadn't thought about for a while.

YWY was an invigorating though not entirely satisfying film, but I think it helped Coppola finally throw off the shackles of conventional wisdom and just say "Screw it. I have nothing left to prove to anyone but myself. I'm going to make the movies I want to make." And with Tetro he does that almost perfectly.

I suspect even the glacial pace that held me back a bit on first viewing will play better a second time around.

I totally agree with you about Gallo (to the disagreement of the esteemed Mr. Juliano). As an enigma, he's got the most challenging part and he totally pulls it off. Much of the advance hype was over Ehrenreich, but as you noted he was something of a blank slate. He was filled out in the end, but Gallo's performance continues to haunt. Ehrenreich, not so much.

A lovely, lyrical and mysterious piece of work and your review has done it justice.

Now hurry up and find Limits of Control!!

Books,Coffee,etc.... said...

"DeeDee: Knowing your love of film noir, you may certainly appreciate the black-and-white cinematography of Tetro."

Alexander, I'am quite sure you couldn't care less...whether I like film noir or don't like film noir, but if the truth be told I
really don't like film noir per se, yet along love it.

Being an artist, my interest is only in posters especially, from the Classic film noir era. Hence, the reason that I own so many books on poster art.

But, to be totally honest, with you,I really do like to read what others bloggers have to say about films and why they did or didn't liked certain films.

Take care!
DeeDee ;-D

Alexander Coleman said...

DeeDee: Thank you very much for that clarification! I greatly appreciate that.

Craig: Well, thank you most sincerely. It's always thrilling to have you around! I'm always a bit humbled when people relay such a reaction to something I've written, particularly when it is on a film the reader already enjoyed or loved.

I agree with you most completely about Youth Without Youth. There was an undeniable formal allure to it, but also a distancing, somewhat alienating integument to it as well. It felt too consciously "artsy," and it seemed as though Coppola did feel like he had to prove himself all over again. Tetro is much more confident with itself, and Coppola seems more innately confident in his narrative, and even his actors.

Speaking of which--yes, Ehrenreich ultimately left slightly too little an impression. Some of his performance seemed to be eaten up by simply being in Gallo and even Verdu's orbit. (Also, I must confess that I found it slightly distracting early on how eerily similar Ehrenreich's appearance is to Leonardo DiCaprio. The scene in which he enters Tetro's home in his uniform made me think I was seeing an outtake from Catch Me If You Can.)

I'm quite happy we agree about Gallo, too. He's the anchor and heart of the film. He owns the role in a way that is actively riveting to watch. If this film is to a humble extent Coppola's homage to Kazan, then Gallo is certainly his Brando for the purposes of this picture.

Thank you very much for the kind words, Craig. I'm touched by your comment. I'll be sure to take a look at your review of this in the very near future, my friend.

And yes, I can't wait to see The Limits of Control. Have you seen Nixon yet? :-)

Anonymous said...

It's always good to read a review of a much maligned and underrated film by an extraordinary writer such as yourself. Too few people view cinema with as much sensitive intelligence as yourself. Great work.

Craig Kennedy said...

Nixon: yyyyno. (hangs head)

clown boy said...

I fell asleep on it. But your review is pretty sweet so maybe I should give it another shot in the future.

Alexander Coleman said...

Anonymous: Thank you so much for the remarkably kind words. I'm touched. The important thing, though, is the points about the film. I'm glad you appreciated it. Not all have.

Craig: Ah, now, don't feel bad about it! Remember, seek out the Director's Cut (which makes it 3-1/2 hours) and give yourself some time. No rush, though. I know you're not an Oliver Stone fan (ironically, neither am I, though I do admire this film in a special way), but I hope you like this one. And I'm terribly anxious to see The Limits of Control!

clown boy: Ah, that is unfortunate. Thank you for the kind words. I hope you give the film another shot. There is something hypnotically soothing and modulating about it, so I could see how it may relax one to the point of falling asleep. Or maybe you just hated it and lost interest.

Joel E said...

I agree, Alexander. Good review.

Alexander Coleman said...

Thank you, Joel. Enlightening to read your comments over at LiC on this one. I'm pleased that we agree.

the glimmer man said...

welcome to the rook

Raven said...

Quote the Raven nevermore.

Anna Koffersberg said...

Beautiful essay. You're enormously gifted, Alexander.

raven said...

my childhood did not consist of family picknicks, baseball games, hot dogs and apple pwie. what is this great american pasttime

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the bums of time. bobdylan documentary action movie to be released.homeless meets back to the future

Robert Zimmerman said...

Oh how does it feel?

Grace said...

Where's that big beautiful blond boy Coleman at?

Probably reading Thucydides and Gibbon whilst standing on his head. :)

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Dientudong said...

My favorite segment of this superlative review is unquestionably this:

"Coppola's Tetro is a film that seeps into and out of the viewer like moisture. Iridescent and pellucid, fragmentary and oblique, all at once, it feels like a living organism that is ferociously but quietly seething, like an animal recently injured. Coppola veils this dyspeptic, tempestuous undercurrent with a luscious layer of visual serenity. It is like squeezing and spreading sweet frosting over a rough, nutty and tart apple coffeecake." scam
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He looked up at him, waiting for nothing more than an answer, but he said nothing further. So he made ​​a face, back punched out the window holding a trumpet sitting
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speak up. You have people in the night, only tree to moonlight every wind of cold flesh, and yellow glow in the dark sweeping

Uno said...

He is a practicing physician in a well known hospital in Seoul. He loved the job, very devoted, loving it more than myself. He is trying hard to become real doctors, are recognized by everyone, and everyone

Uno said...

Bay you know my parents worried flight home how are you? Bay is known to support large aircraft ever takes not much effort? Going on Now! - His voice seemed to break the ticket out, chugs
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Looked through the window, I watched the past as the film passed by fast-forward black and white. This place had no trace of it anymore. Now, it is not for sale inside the station. The austere face
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fatigue, only tall lean toward me softly backlit smile. The smell of coffee beans so that wafted into the air spreads, has recently obsessed aromatic concentration. Ear I hear the familiar tune of the song coming from the radio station signal was nine o'clock
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With all my heart, exhale, close your head nodding. Hand in hand to begin a very gentle warmth. Yunho pulling blankets up, rest your arms out to embrace me and continued
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I greet the couple who owns the wooden guesthouses, continue up the road. Every goodbye rustling metal strip, in the early collection is bright yellow wind waiting. I walked through the wooden gate, looked
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it can forget all the steps found unconscious Yunho old. I asked for time, it turns everything into a nightmare. Response time my late.
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Uno said...
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Uno said...

He accepted, but he did not believe he could forget all that ... the pain of rejection by others who you think may be sacrificed because of their world. He did not
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Uno said...

Sometimes I do not understand why people could so stupid ... he flatly to let you know that you are deceived and are taking advantage of him, but he still does not coolly. You know or understand, know or do not know ... my heart cold capital in May, my love as volcanic eruptions and then went out.
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Uno said...

imagined lost smile, sure looks strange. He shook his head to dispel the thought, not ... Jae is still good friends.
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Guidance flute sounded upset and offers UAT, the piper sit and watch the moon silver leaf tree, glittering with distant eyes, sad. Her eyes shining reach many sorrows, where everyone just to make others suffer as their happiness.
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Uno said...

we have no choice but to confront him and sometimes have to kill him again "Changmin sighed," So then he was no longer his and my JaeJoong again "
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Uno said...

"Uhm .... I'll wake up time ... "he laughed light. I'll wake up time, several months passed and still is. He always told myself that no hope. He always whispered
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