Some thoughts on film (2) - Biopics
I hate biopics.
Well, that's not quite true. But there are so many things that I find intolerably obnoxious about the genre that I can't help but ball my fists, clench my teeth and stifle a rant every time I even hear the word. And what an abrasive word! "Biopic." Blech. It sounds like what it is: the deformed crack baby of the benignly descriptive phrase "biographical motion picture." "Biopic" sounds more like some science lab torture device than a film genre. The recent release of "Walk the Line," a dyed in the wool biopic, inspired the following rant.
For reasons which I have yet to fully understand, biopics are often award fodder. One main component (which does make sense to me) is that at the center of a biopic is usually at least one Oscar-baity role. If someone is the subject of a motion picture, they've probably had an eventful and interesting life; in following, the actor playing the real-life individual is sure to have plenty of material to use to flex his acting muscle.
One of my main problems is that, in my mind, all so-called great biopic performances amount to little more than glorified impersonations. On this point, I don't discriminate between biopics that I like--there are some, but more on that later--and those that I don't like. It's always distracting to see a recognizable actor attempting to play the role of another recognizable figure. Biopic performances are routinely mired down in the intricacies of the subject's mannerisms, speech patterns and physical appearance. Jamie Foxx in last year's "Ray" is a prime example. I'll concede that Foxx does a brilliant Ray Charles impression, but any subtleties of the performance are completely obscured by the audience's being distracted by the scratchy drawl, the wavering head and the glinting sunglasses.
The character constraints that generally accompany biopics often translate into plot deficits as well. There's a basic biopic formula: character faces hardship in youth; character discovers natural talent and/or pursues ambition; character faces hardship in adulthood (usually some form of addiction); character either overcomes hardship and lives happily ever after ("Ray," et. al.) or character succumbs to hardship and dies ("The Hours" et. al.).
A sampling of some of the worst-offending biopics of recent years: "Walk the Line," "Finding Neverland," "The Aviator," "Kinsey," "De-Lovely," "Beyond the Sea," "Frida," "Ali," and "The Hurricane" to name just a few. I liked some, I disliked others, but they were all unmistakably biopic-y.
There are some techniques a biopic can employ to break ranks with the dismally repetitive pack. When the subject of the film isn't such a cultural icon--as in "Monster," the Charlize Theron lesbian serial killer flick of a couple of years ago--the impersonation effect is less of a problem. But even "Monster," which I liked immensely, was bogged down by Theron's extreme uglification. A biopic can also succeed by refraining from being overly episodic. Biopics that focus on shorter time frames and more specific events make room for a deeper examination of the film's human subject. I would put "Erin Brockovich," "A Beautiful Mind," and "Capote" in this category. But on the other hand, I wouldn't saddle any of those movies with the loathsome label of biopic to begin with. They're movies about specific episodes in the lives of real people. "Erin Brockovich" is about an investigation and a trial, "Capote" is about the writing of a book. In those cases, the stories just happen to be true.
And that's my rant on biopics.
Well, that's not quite true. But there are so many things that I find intolerably obnoxious about the genre that I can't help but ball my fists, clench my teeth and stifle a rant every time I even hear the word. And what an abrasive word! "Biopic." Blech. It sounds like what it is: the deformed crack baby of the benignly descriptive phrase "biographical motion picture." "Biopic" sounds more like some science lab torture device than a film genre. The recent release of "Walk the Line," a dyed in the wool biopic, inspired the following rant.
For reasons which I have yet to fully understand, biopics are often award fodder. One main component (which does make sense to me) is that at the center of a biopic is usually at least one Oscar-baity role. If someone is the subject of a motion picture, they've probably had an eventful and interesting life; in following, the actor playing the real-life individual is sure to have plenty of material to use to flex his acting muscle.
One of my main problems is that, in my mind, all so-called great biopic performances amount to little more than glorified impersonations. On this point, I don't discriminate between biopics that I like--there are some, but more on that later--and those that I don't like. It's always distracting to see a recognizable actor attempting to play the role of another recognizable figure. Biopic performances are routinely mired down in the intricacies of the subject's mannerisms, speech patterns and physical appearance. Jamie Foxx in last year's "Ray" is a prime example. I'll concede that Foxx does a brilliant Ray Charles impression, but any subtleties of the performance are completely obscured by the audience's being distracted by the scratchy drawl, the wavering head and the glinting sunglasses.
The character constraints that generally accompany biopics often translate into plot deficits as well. There's a basic biopic formula: character faces hardship in youth; character discovers natural talent and/or pursues ambition; character faces hardship in adulthood (usually some form of addiction); character either overcomes hardship and lives happily ever after ("Ray," et. al.) or character succumbs to hardship and dies ("The Hours" et. al.).
A sampling of some of the worst-offending biopics of recent years: "Walk the Line," "Finding Neverland," "The Aviator," "Kinsey," "De-Lovely," "Beyond the Sea," "Frida," "Ali," and "The Hurricane" to name just a few. I liked some, I disliked others, but they were all unmistakably biopic-y.
There are some techniques a biopic can employ to break ranks with the dismally repetitive pack. When the subject of the film isn't such a cultural icon--as in "Monster," the Charlize Theron lesbian serial killer flick of a couple of years ago--the impersonation effect is less of a problem. But even "Monster," which I liked immensely, was bogged down by Theron's extreme uglification. A biopic can also succeed by refraining from being overly episodic. Biopics that focus on shorter time frames and more specific events make room for a deeper examination of the film's human subject. I would put "Erin Brockovich," "A Beautiful Mind," and "Capote" in this category. But on the other hand, I wouldn't saddle any of those movies with the loathsome label of biopic to begin with. They're movies about specific episodes in the lives of real people. "Erin Brockovich" is about an investigation and a trial, "Capote" is about the writing of a book. In those cases, the stories just happen to be true.
And that's my rant on biopics.
posted by temporarily unemployed at 18:55
1 Comments:
Gotta throw some support behind the last paragraph, even though A Beautiful Mind hardly fits into the "specific story" category. What makes that movie different, perhaps, is that it starts not in the subject's childhood but in his 20s. Nevertheless, it follows him fairly indiscriminately until he's an old man.
Also, let me clarify something you said. The real problem with Walk the Line and Ray, if you see both of them, is that they are THE EXACT SAME MOVIE. It is easy to become fed up with biopics as unoriginal pieces of shit if you see both of these films.
I haven't seen all of those movies you rattle off, but Ali was awful and Kinsey was so-so.
Have you seen Coal Miner's Daughter? I saw it this summer and thought it was awesome. Definitely the best of the biopic genre, although I liked Capote, if that counts.
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