REPOST: The Strong, Largely Silent Type ‘All Is Lost,’ With Robert Redford at Sea

If you are planning to watch the movie “All Is Lost,” you might want to read this New York Times article to give you an over view of the film.

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True solitude is a rarity at the movies, for those of us in the audience contending with yakkers and texters, and for the people on screen as well. The lonesome strangers of the old westerns almost always had a town to ride into or out of, a buzz of social life to contrast with their individualistic ways. Even movies that emphasize the isolation of their main characters tend to provide them with companions, human or otherwise. Piscine Patel in “Life of Pi” had his tiger, Richard Parker; Chuck Noland in “Cast Away” had Wilson the volleyball. Those guys did a lot of talking, even when nobody else was around.

The guy in J. C. Chandor’s amazing “All Is Lost” — identified only as “Our Man” in the credits and instantly recognizable as Robert Redford, giving the performance of his life — says almost nothing at all. For the duration of the film, he is the only person in sight. In the opening scene, we hear his voice as he composes a letter of apology and farewell, presumably to unspecified loved ones back home. Later — or rather earlier, since most of the story flashes back from that moment of fatalism, eight days into his ordeal — he tries to send a distress call over the radio and tosses a few epithets at his fate. Otherwise, he is silent. And though this man’s radical aloneness is terrifying, to him and to us, it is also a condition he has chosen, one we might even envy, just as his taciturn competence is something we are inclined to admire.

He finds himself in the Indian Ocean, in the empty waters between Indonesia and Madagascar, on a solo sailing voyage. We infer that he is someone who can afford a comfortable, well-appointed yacht and the leisure to pilot it in exotic places, something he also clearly has the skill to do. He’s rich, American and handsome. (He’s Robert Redford.)

What else do we know about Our Man? He wears a wedding ring and an air of poised, understated confidence. In the midst of a desperate crisis, he takes the time to shave, and we might wonder whether this act of grooming under duress is evidence of self-discipline or vanity. Even when he is absorbed in practical matters that have life-or-death consequences, our ancient mariner maintains a sense of style; there is a subtle self-consciousness in his efforts to embody the old Hemingway-esque ideal of grace under pressure. He is a model of masculine virtue and he knows it. (He’s Robert Redford.)

The ancient Greeks believed that character should be revealed through action. I can’t think of another film that has upheld this notion so thoroughly and thrillingly. There is certainly no other actor who can command our attention — our empathy, our loyalty, our love — with such efficiency. Mr. Redford has always been a magnificent underplayer, a master of small, clear gestures and soft-spoken intensity. This role brings him to the pinnacle of reticence but also allows him to open up in startling ways. Behind the leathery, pragmatic exterior is a reservoir of inexpressible emotion. An opera thunders in the silence.

“All Is Lost,” an action movie in the most profound and exalted sense of the term, has a simple plot that I hesitate to summarize, less for fear of spoiling anything than because a précis would either miss the point or recapitulate the whole film. A lot goes wrong. An errant shipping container punches a hole in the hull. The cabin floods, and the onboard electrical system is ruined. A ferocious storm spins, tosses and smashes the boat. Attempts to communicate are foiled by rotten luck and the metaphysical indifference of the universe.

Through it all, the man perseveres, in his patient, problem-solving way. He patches his beloved boat’s wound with epoxy and cloth, hauls out the storm jib, gathers provisions for the lifeboat and digs up a never-used, old-fashioned mariner’s sextant. Using this, a sheaf of maps and a copy of “Celestial Navigation for Yachtsmen,” he sets a course for commercial shipping lanes, hoping for rescue from the big boats that were, indirectly but with unmistakable metaphorical significance, the cause of his predicament.

Like other tales of survival at sea — a robust literary tradition that includes classic books by Ernest Hemingway, Jack London, Joseph Conrad and Herman Melville — “All Is Lost” manifests a strong allegorical undercurrent. Nothing registers the fragility and contingency of the human presence in the universe quite as starkly as the sight of a small vessel adrift on an endless ocean, and few representations of heroism are as vivid as the spectacle of an individual fighting to master the caprices of wind and water.

But this is not — or not only — a parable of Man against Nature, ready-made for high school term paper analysis. The physical details that carry the story and make it suspenseful and absorbing are also vessels of specific meaning, and together they add up to a fable about the soul of man under global capitalism. Our man is a privileged consumer (just look at all the stuff he has on that boat) whose fate is set in motion by a box full of goods (children’s sneakers, as it happens) accidentally knocked out of circulation.

It is this catastrophe and the man’s desperate efforts to correct it that link “All Is Lost” with “Margin Call,” Mr. Chandor’s excellent first feature. That movie, about an office full of panicky investment bankers dealing with the unfolding financial crisis of 2008, is in many ways the opposite of “All Is Lost.” It takes place almost entirely indoors, and it’s pretty much all talk. But it is also very much concerned with how powerful men react when their sense of control is challenged, and with the vast, invisible system that sustains their illusions.

Our Man is a more complicated hero than he seems, and shades of ambiguity and implication filter in through the sharply defined, crisply composed images of his struggle. I’m reminded again of Conrad, and not only because “All Is Lost” is an appealing and exciting maritime adventure with one eye on the geopolitical state of the world.

Conrad once famously identified his goal as a writer as “to make you hear, to make you feel — it is, before all, to make you see.”

A good filmmaker will not take that for granted, even with the advantage of a visual medium, and Mr. Chandor more than fulfills Conrad’s criterion of artistic achievement: “If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation, fear, charm — all you demand — and, perhaps, also that glimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask.”

“All Is Lost” is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). Our Man swears twice.

All Is Lost

Opens on Friday in New York and Los Angeles.

Written and directed by J. C. Chandor; director of photography, Frank G. DeMarco; underwater director of photography, Peter Zuccarini; edited by Pete Beaudreau; music by Alex Ebert; production design by John P. Goldsmith; visual effects supervisor, Robert Munroe; produced by Neal Dodson, Anna Gerb, Justin Nappi and Teddy Schwarzman; released by Lionsgate and Roadside Attractions. Running time: 1 hour 47 minutes.

WITH: Robert Redford (Our Man).

Louis A. Habash obtained his Bachelor of Science degree in film from Full Sail University. Visit this Facebook page to know more about his career.

REPOST: The Movies: A Fading Flame

Warren Adler points out the distinction between the old and new films in this Huffington Post article.

At the outset, let me state unequivocally that I have had a lifetime love affair with the movies. The affair spans the golden age of Hollywood films and as evidence of this heartfelt attachment, I can name most of the actors in black and white films, B movies included.

I inherited this addiction from my mother who would take me with her whenever the movies changed their bill, even in the middle of the week when I should have been doing my homework. Her lure was not only the movie itself but the collection of dishes the theaters would give away free to corral their patrons during the dark days of the depression.

The movie bill in those days consisted of a double feature, news of the day, a cartoon or two, and a minute or two of coming attractions -- meaning the pictures that were on deck to be seen in the next few days. There was no popcorn, only a vending machine that would dispense packaged candies for a nickel (about six choices).

Those old birds from the studios who lured you into the movie theaters were the most brashly creative propagandists and advertising geniuses of their day. They built a star system that made gods and goddesses of their actors, slapping their images all over the place, on billboards, fan magazines and gossip columns, and used the mass media with unprecedented skill, verve, and chutzpah.

Indeed, they made you believe that those actors whose love affairs and 'derring-do' actually happened to them in real life and seduced you to glimpse into their lurid personal lives, stunted perhaps by the fact that these actors, mostly uneducated and insecure, began to believe that they were the characters put up on that 35-foot screen. Indeed, those movie promoters invented the modern celebrity machine.

They gave away dishes and other items that lured you into the theaters in the middle of the week. They sponsored contests for kids. They coupled the movies with live entertainment like Sinatra, Milton Berle, Martin and Lewis, and many others.

They built faux palaces that made you feel you deserved the importance of entering a baroque castle with lots of gold paint and chandeliers. Remnants remain, of which Radio City Music Hall was the epitome of the era, a relic that has retained its luster but no longer shows movies.

Their advertising in the newspapers was over the top with exaggeration and drum beating bull which to this day continues its legacy of faux praise, much of it bought and paid for.

The language of the lure is still over the top only more so. Ever really read a movie blurb? They are hilarious, extracted from reviews by anyone with a computer and an opinion, but who looks at the source? Some are from the top tier of reviewers from the New York Times and other big city newspapers; others are from magazines, entertainment trade papers, television "critics", assorted bloggers and movie critic sites where self-proclaimed "reviewers" abound, all with one thing in common: "opinions" hungry to see their critiques quoted and hopeful that their sites attract advertisers.

Here are some samples extracted from newspapers flacking new offerings, which will remain anonymous. I'll dispense with "Best Picture", "Best Actor" -- which are ubiquitous and the absurdist exaggerations -- like the overused "Brilliant", "Ravishing", "Remarkable", "Breathless", "Imaginative" and the all-purpose "Most" to underline the point.

Then there is the blockbuster word "Masterpiece" and, of course "Winner", of the various festivals and resumes of directors for past films all embellished with an avalanche of praise words lifted from Mr. Roget's handy thesaurus. Sometimes the flack writer will get really creative and spew "We're Too Busy Laughing" or "The Level of Craft is Something to Behold" or "An Erotic Mindbender" or "Thrillingly Hypnotic", or "Give Us More Like This One", heaven forbid, and the all-purpose "You Won't Believe Your Eyes" or "So Good You Will Have to See it Twice."

For the "save the world" filmmakers, who offer what they believe is life-changing movies, you will find specific hype headlines like "Uncompromising", "Brave", "Courageous", "Fearless", "Daring", and that all-purpose word of the righteous activist, "expose."

Then there are the groups who treat film as a cultural icon and a matter of scholarly inquiry with another cluster of hype words like "classic", "enduring" and "vintage."

Of course in today's world the lure goes beyond mere words. You have to endure a tsunami of advertising if you enter a movie theater on its advertised time entrapped and forced to endure 15 minutes or more of earsplitting commercials, many designed to get you to buy the obesity-encouraging, overpriced menu of life menacing goodies, served in the lobby concessions.

As if this was not enough brainwashing, you still have to endure endless coming attractions, usually eardrum endangering snippets from the latest movie spinoffs of computer games targeting the pre- and early teen set. By the time one gets around to the start of the movie, a half hour or more beyond the published feature time, you are exhausted by the assault and your potential film enjoyment meter has been compromised.

In the golden age of the black and whites, the coming attractions were five minutes long and your concentration on the story being presented on the screen was still fresh and expectant.

There is a sense, even as I write this rant, that the movie auditorium, meaning where groups sitting together in the dark, munching on unhealthy foods while being attacked with endless hype are the last gasp of a desperate industry running out of ideas as they enter an uncertain future.

As I said at the onset, I loved the movies, even the very few being offered today for those of even average intelligence, but I fear a total disenchantment is on its way, unless the moguls come up with a more engaging product for people of all ages and stop trying to overstuff us with all the hype and brainless baloney.

As a film historian, Louis A. Habash watch films for a living. Get to know him more by following this Twitter page. 

Schindler’s List revisited

It has been 20 years since Schindler’s List was shown in movie theaters. At that time, many approached the movie with some apprehension, given that its director, Steven Spielberg, was known mostly for his works on fairy tales and adventure stories. Still, he surprised some critics by showing a firm grasp of the material, and many consider the movie as an outstanding achievement in his filmmaking career.

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Recently, the epic drama film has been granted new life as Universal Studios made a full-blown restoration of the movie, and has released it on Blu-ray just in time for the film’s 20th anniversary. It took a time- and labor-intensive process for the movie to be enhanced and preserved for future generations.


 
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With this development, it is gratifying to see how advancements in technology have helped the film industry preserve the greatest movies to ever be made. Schindler’s List, undoubtedly, is one movie that deserves such treatment. It deserves a spot in the collection of just about anyone who loves movies, and it’s a story that deserves to be told to the young people of tomorrow.

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Today, the stories related to the Holocaust and its survivors continue to be gathered and told. These stories of a dark time should be remembered because they are something that should not be allowed to happen again.

Louis A. Habash is a film historian based in San Francisco. Find more links to his write-ups on films on Twitter.