The past day, night and morning offered an intriguing array of cinematic cuisine. First up was Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens [Nosferatu, a Symphony of Horror], a wonderful 1922 silent cinema piece by F.W. Murnau. The story is, basically, a weaksauce version of Bram Stoker's Dracula; however, I admired the film not for its storytelling, but rather for the skillful cinematography and creative use of technical tricks (such as coloured tints, which at once set the mood, time of day, and ambience of a scene) used in its production, as well as the wonderful acting of Max Schreck, as the gruesome vampire, and a number of others.
Unfortunately, there is no definitively restored version in existence (since the best originals were ordered to be destroyed due to a copyright infringment dispute with Stoker's widow [the film was very controversial]), hence it seems that no definitive soundtrack notes were left (as opposed to the case of the glorious and extra-meticulous reconstruction of Fritz Lang's 1927 Metropolis, [my most favourite movie, hands down]).
As a result, I was saddled with a wonderful colour-tinted version, which, nevertheless, had the modern artistic shitty Donald Sosin/Joana Seaton score (with some weird Japanese[?] vocals used as SFX in places); it seems that many so-called "musicians" have used the opportunity to fuck around with many classic silent film scores (or to recreate them as they saw fit, outright).
Nonetheless, the film was a great experience (yet nothing compared to Metropolis, I assure you). All this 1920s excitement makes me want to see the 2000 Shadow of the Vampire, a "history" of filming Nosferatu, with John Malkovich as F.W. Murnau and Willem Dafoe as Max Shreck (how fitting!); the premise sounds very promising.
Next there was the very straightforward Instinct, where Anthony Hopkins, Cuba Gooding, Jr., Donald Sutherland and a number of other great actors battle tooth and nail to pull through a mediocre story riding on a great, yet simple premise. In many ways it is comparable to All the Little Animals, in its focus on characters rather than plot.
I'll say this one thing for this film: it made me shed a tear; and not many films do that for me; the other times (which I can remember), when I really bawled were after watching Brazil, Pleasantville and American Beauty...and also Titanic...but that one was a long, long time ago. At any rate, the cinematography was great as well; it was just a case of poor screenwriting.
Finally, I saw Wolfgang Petersen's In the Line of Fire, which, by free association, just evoked the phrase "a well-balanced meal" in my mind. Which is quite apt, really, considering its reasonably solid cast: the wry, cute Clint Eastwood, who, at 63 (back in 1993) looks really good and even has trouble acting his age; the equally cute James McDermott, with whom Eastwood establishes a pleasant and familiar older partner/younger partner interplay; the ubiquitous and wonderful John Malkovich whose versatility and ease lend his portrayal of the antagonist a special angle (the very conceit of his role is superb [he also utters a line very appropriate to this evening: "A man's actions don't equal to the sum of his psychological parts"]); Rene Russo as the love interest, and a whole bunch of other familiar faces.
The story is interesting, the characters have dimension and depth: for instance, the past of Eastwood's character as a Secret Service man during the Kennedy assasination, now bent on preventing another, present-day attempt, overflows into his character's personal problems, piano-playing talents (reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes's violin'n'opium hijinks) and romantic involvement with Russo's character (there is a hilarious "equipment-dropping" scene), making for a well-rounded approach towards fleshing out a protagonist.
The film kept me throughly interested; it has a good plot and a very well-precipitated climax; however, something is missing, since it seems that Petersen pushes his actors to be a little too humorously-sarcastic, wry or coy. All in all, however, this is a good film, on par with much of Harrison Ford's similar work in the early- and mid-nineties.
Man. Wht does it take me over an hour to rersearch and post these entries? Pfft. I'm off to das bed.