“Munich” arrives on DVD today, the last of the best-picture nominees to make it onto your home screen. And Steven Spielberg, in a five-minute “introduction” attached to both the single and double-disc versions of “Munich,” is still making the argument that his movie was a brave, neutral exploration of political violence.
Spielberg is fighting the wrong demons. It wasn’t that “Munich” was unbalanced or intemperate. In fact, the movie was so scrupulously nonpartisan about the 1972 Palestinian outrage, and Israel’s subsequent revenge campaign, that we still don’t know how a generous Jewish activist like Spielberg feels about it personally.
“Munich” was the weakest of the Oscar entries because it had a few glaring flaws, and a couple of scenes made tense audiences break their mood long enough to ask themselves, “What was THAT all about?”
Too much eating, for example. In the movie and in the documentary featurettes that accompany the “Munich” DVD, the gang of Israeli avengers spends an inordinate amount of time tucking into delicious Middle Eastern fare in Europe’s culture capitals.
Spielberg and co-screenwriter Tony Kushner have Eric Bana’s character, Avner, explain this by saying cooking relieves his tension. But, combined with the contrived French informant family that arrogantly feeds Bana his biggest clues while dining al fresco in the family gardens, the excessive eating becomes a distraction. Is this movie about the dangerous blood sport of vengeance, or is it a cooking show with guns?
“Munich” also regrettably highlights Spielberg’s general discomfort with fully formed female characters. Golda Meir is an intriguing presence for about five minutes, as she puts together the secret team to kill 11 Palestinians and supporters. But the most visible female character in the movie is a Mata Hari-style agent who sleeps with and kills one of our heroes. The message is pretty clear: In the world of “Munich,” women are for sex, and even that isn’t such a great idea.
My main regret with “Munich,” though, goes back to Spielberg’s ongoing salesmanship of the movie as a thoughtful exploration of violence. Too often in recent films, Spielberg backs away from a final confrontation and goes back to pleasing audiences with thrilling, yet relatively shallow, action. (See also “A.I.” and “Minority Report.”)
I for one would welcome a brilliant thinker like Spielberg bringing a strong opinion to “Munich.” Why not claim that Israel’s revenge murders were fully justified or condemn the vigilante justice.
Instead of offering that excitement – the dangerous pleasure of a smart man making a strong argument – we end up with a “Munich” that rides on entertainment rather than exploration.
-Michael Booth
Tennessee Williams
The chalky writing states: “Rebel Without Cause. Asst. Ruth Ford. Age 23 … Exp. stage 3 years.”
What follows is a Marlon Brando screen test. He pouts. He rages like a brief summer thunderstorm, cries, dries into an intense calm. The late director Elia Kazan describes Brando’s power as coming from “turmoil and ambivalence.”
The screen test and outtakes from “A Streetcar Named Desire,” are glimmers of the gold in the Tennessee Williams Film Collection ($68.92; released May 2)
The handsome boxed set features DVD debuts of “Sweet Bird of Youth,” “Night of the Iguana,” “Baby Doll” and “The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone.” Also included are remastered versions with fine extras of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” and “Streetcar” as well as the documentary “Tennessee Williams’ South.”
The great playwright’s South was – as the overheated trailers boast – a sultry, steamy place. Older women cavort with younger men. Young men struggle to shake the weight of their big daddies, real and symbolic.
In a bracing blend of art and commentary, this collection delivers two astounding tutorials. One explores the rich and complex relationship of stage and screen acting during a time when they were much more intimate. The other is even more pleasurable. Call it “Tales of Psycho-sexual Repression American-style,” the graduate-level course.
-Lisa Kennedy
