Children of...?

And there remains no original ideas -- especially in Hollywood.

Its odd, but the first thing that came to mind when I read this movie's plot was the cheesy 90's B movie American Cyborg: Steel Warrior. Of course I'm pretty sure that in this movie, the baby is not in a glass jar nor is the mother chased by an evil robot.
There are too many movies with really familiar plots these days.

Altman was a slop artist. He wished he could make a film as great as "Children of Men." In the hands of the wrong director, it could have been another "Logan's Run" or "The Island" -- a dumb future-thriller with kitschy décor. Heaven knows the premise is silly enough: It's 2027, the human race is infertile, and Clive Owen has to ferry the last pregnant woman on the planet (Clare-Hope Ashitey) to safety. But Alfonso Cuarón ("Y Tu Mamá También," "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban") is behind the camera, and so this adaptation of the P.D. James novel is muscular and convincing, with a depiction of social apocalypse that feels distressingly right around the corner. Michael Caine is a hoot as the last hippie in England, but this is serious business and seriously thrilling filmmaking, with a battle sequence two-thirds of the way through that plays like Iraq cubed

Note for the future: once you use the words "Altman" and "slop artist" in the same sentence, you're not bound to be taken seriously. Better offer up some major, major support for that statement.

Dave's characterization of Altman as a "slop artist" who "wished he could make a film as great as Children of Men" sounds a little like the tactics of the critic and/or pugnacious style of proclamation-as-criticism being discussed a couple of posts below. (Perhaps a bit of backlash to "counterbalance" the outpouring of feeling in the wake of the great director's death last November too.) I have to agree with Rob-- Altman made several films that might, by any measure-- let alone the standard of Nashville or McCabe and Mrs. Miller-- be termed as failures, or at least disappointments. And yes, some of his films were sloppy-- Quintet was one of them. (I might also call it logy, half-baked or indifferent.) But what does tagging a director, be it Altman or anyone, as a "slop artist" even mean, especially if no support for the proclamation is in evidence? I'm going to get a chance to see Children of Men tomorrow night, and so far I've avoided reading too much-- even on this blog-- about its supposed glories and/or shortcomings. And I don't think that, by posting this interesting bit of coincidence, Jim was trying to suggest anything along the lines of, "Oh, if only Robert Altman could have directed Children of Men!" I found his post, centered around the quote from Thomson's book, most fascinating as a jumping-off point toward thinking about how different directors, different sensibilities, access similar ideas, through whatever channels, and how those similar ideas can result in works that feel and think in such radically different ways.

Right you are, Dennis:

I just found it amusing that one of Altman's most infamous, confounding flops shared at least a thread of a premise with a movie that's currently a critical hit. I thought the juxtaposition spoke for itself: From this kernel of an idea (before the P.D. James novel), one filmmaker made "Quintet" and the other "Children of Men." Guess not.

It certainly wasn't intended as a slight to Cuaron OR Altman. Might make for a provocative double-bill, though. I must confess, however: I've never been able to sit through "Quintet" again since I attended a press screening before its original theatrical release! (Altman steadfastly defended it to the end, though -- and, perversely, I admire him all the more for it. In this same interview he proudly took credit for the creation of the game of Quintet, claiming it was almost brought to market as a commercial game, by Parker Bros., I believe.)

I didn’t like Altman's films and I didn’t like him. I haven’t got much more to say about Altman that Robin Wood didn’t say better in his classic anti-Altman piece, “Smarty Pants and Cutie Pie,” in “Movie” back in 1975, except to note that the tendencies that Wood nailed in that early assessment — smugness, condescension, a lazy, zoom-based mise-en-scene — only seemed to get worse over the years. I’ve got nothing against zooms when they’re used with some expressive purpose, as in Rossellini’s films. But too often with Altman, I feel that the zooms are his way of avoiding any real thought about the visual dimension of his movies. Sitting through the tribute to Altman that the Film Society of Lincoln Center hosted a few years ago, it was depressing to see how many of the clips were essentially the same shot — a row of characters lined up side by side (what the old guys used to call a “clothesline” shot), with a slow zoom into a close-up of one character’s face, chosen for no discernable reason. It’s space destroying in the sense that it turns everything into a flat surface: a zoom does not bring an actor closer to the camera, but only magnifies the image, increasing grain but not emotional closeness or a focusing of the attention. I think people should read the Robin wood piece. It impressed me very much at the time as a fair and balanced assessment of a filmmaker a lot of us auteurists were prepared to dismiss out of hand, just for his sloppy technique. Clearly, there’s something going on with his films — a lot of smart people like them, after all — but I’m not sure it’s as interesting or innovative as the recent obituaries have been making it out to be.

I rented "Quintet" this week and watched it twice. To me it is a terrific movie; I'd put it right up there with Altman's best, including "Nashville", "Short Cuts" and "3 Women". I even prefer it to "M*A*S*H", "Images" and "Vincent & Theo".

Let me explain that this is my kind of movie: snow everywhere, a Darwinian survival of the fittest story, and a splendid international cast. Newman's performance as Essex is brilliantly stoic. Fernando Ray and Vittorio Gassman are deliciously evil fiends. Bibi Andersson is sexier than ever (and she never even has to take her clothes off!). The characters aren't much developed; nor should they be, in my opinion. Altman has forced these individuals all the way to the ends of the Earth. They're as two-dimensional as your average Kubrick characters. They have to be.

Coupled with that, the film is bookended by two enormously fascinating tracking shots in the frozen tundra. It's hard to take your eyes off of this film. Relating to this blog post, I DID notice the uncanny way how Brigitte Fossey's character foreshadows Cuaron's "Children of Men". I believe "Quintet" is the vastly superior film, however.