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From director J.J. Abrams comes the next installment in the Star Trek saga, Star Trek Into Darkness. See it at Cinemark theaters now and pre-order on Blu-ray, 3D Blu-ray, DVD, and the Exclusive Starfleet Phaser Gift Set. Shop Star Trek Into Darkness and more in the Star Trek Store. Learn more |
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Special Features
- "Shooting Miller's Crossing: A Conversation with Barry Sonnenfeld"
- Interview clips with Gabriel Byrne, Marcia Gay Harden, and John Turturro
- Still gallery
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The script is awash with Prohibition-era jargon both historically grounded and whimsically invented, a symphony of phrases and exchanges that linger and echo long after being heard. (It isn't unusual after a viewing to walk around asking friends, "What's the rumpus?", or to complain about being given "the high hat" upon being snubbed.)
The performances, as well, are individually and collectively irresistable. I defy you, in fact, to find a single film in which _any_ of the major players has ever been better. There's not a false or miscast note in the whole of the dramatis personae. There's Gabriel Byrne as the inscrutable, Machiavellian Tom Reagan, a trusted advisor to the city's Irish mob lord who falls out of favor and "defects" to the Italian camp to save his own skin...or does he? Albert Finney plays Leo, the aforementioned Irish power broker whose fists of iron, vicious survival instinct, and all-too-vulnerable heart congeal into a simply remarkable, unforgettable character. John Turturro is equal parts pathetic outcast and conniving opportunist as Bernie Birnbaum, the unscrupulous, vampirically pale bookmaker whose shady maneuvers set the whole plot into motion. Marcia Gay Harden exudes fierce intelligence and buckets of carefully-aimed sex appeal as Bernie's sister Verna, whose unflagging drive to protect her brother -- even from himself -- almost excuse her twisted machinations. J.E. Freeman drips evil and impending violence all over the screen as smarter-than-you-want-him-to-be enforcer Eddie Dane. Jon Polito, as hot-tempered Italian ringleader Johnny Caspar, may be the only character at hand to actually feel sorry for, as his oddly consistent ethical code makes it a sure bet he doesn't stand a chance in his environment.
There's more to say about the acting, of course, but I'll stop there rather than pour accolades onto the entire cast. And when I say "entire," I'm not exaggerating: every person who comes into frame, from the leads to the smaller parts to the people with one line or none at all, fit together and play off of each other as though they'd been born to do nothing else in their entire lives. The whole of it actually makes it difficult not to notice acting and casting problems in other films.
I'm running out of room here, so I can only nod to some of the other perfect elements of production. Barry Sonnenfeld's dead-on photography is measured and seamless where appropriate, frenetic where necessary. Set design and costuming make for such an astonishing illusion that were this not a color film, you might actually forget that it was released 9, not 69 years ago. And even the sound -- from the music (diegetic and otherwise) to the crystal-clear sound effects that pierce the visual and draw you in by the ears, like they're supposed to -- is a _presence_ in its own right throughout the film. I mean, when was the last time ice cubes dropping into an old-fashioned glass or the wringing out of an alcohol-soaked rag into a tinny dish felt truly woven into the designed effect of a scene in a movie?
What continues to amaze me about MILLER'S CROSSING is that no matter how many times I see it, regardless of how hard I look, I _can't find anything wrong with it_. That's an extremely rare situation in my experience. It's what we all want out of a movie, and almost never get. MILLER'S CROSSING delivers exactly that feeling, and when Tom Reagan leans against that tree and adjusts that hat in the haunting final shot, he knows it just as surely as we do. He doesn't seem to feel especially happy about it, but that's okay. _You_ will.
I think the key to my love for Miller's, though, is realizing what what I believe the dream-hat meant (I'm sure this will be obvious to some, especially those that have watched a number of times, but I just want to throw this out there for folks that have seen it, but don't know what all the hubbub is about--because certainly, that's how I felt when I first saw it).
Whether people wear hats or not in the film seems to represent whether they are acting out of passion-from the heart, that is, or out of mind--thinking logically, or unemotionally.
Tom's conflict in the film is entirely between his head and his heart(Verna). He loses his hat to Verna in a poker game, and he goes back to her apartment to get it--and it is left on the sill while they fool around. And Tom says about his dream: "There's nothing more foolish than a man chasing his hat." Ultimately, Tom chooses mind over heart in the end--or does he? The final shot shows him methodically putting his hat on so low that we can't even see his eyes, so he seems to make the cold choice of pure logic--but then, as he looks after Leo leaving (Leo, who has been hatless throughout, pure emotion, has now learned something--and he is wearing a yarmulke), the camera sneaks in under the brim of Tom's hat to see his eyes. It is rare for a movie to understand its character's so well. Wonderful filmmaking
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