‘Where the Wild Things Are’ and James Gandolfini’s Defining Film Performance

James Gandolfini’s passing, to be expected, has brought out a wave of mourning online, but the most surprising aspect of the responses has been the sheer breadth of work mentioned as personal favorites. As Scott Tobias so rightly noted on Twitter, seeing nearly all of his roles mentioned as among his finest is one of the best tributes that could be made to the actor’s talent.

Of all Gandolfini’s memorable, show-stealing performances, my own favorite is one in which that iconic, imposing but charismatic image of his does not even make an appearance. I am talking of his voice role in Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are”. I haven’t seen the film since shortly after its home video release, but Gandolfini’s Carol has never left me since 2009.

The central Wild Thing encountered by the runaway Max, Carol is the most blatant projection of the human boy’s fear and loathing, the clearest indication that these beasts are the monsters of the child’s id-driven imagination, as well as the product of his quest for a relatable father figure. Scooping up Max as a king, Carol provides that paternal quality for the boy to replace the dad he lacks. But because Carol is also a reflection of the child’s inner mind, he does not have the maturity to correspond with his size and sense of power.

Look at this beautiful scene where Carol talks about the fate of the desert and Max discusses the eventual death of the Sun:

Neither has the wisdom nor maturity to give answers to their unsettling worries: Carol knows that the desert that formed from rock will eventually turn to dust but does not know what that will mean, while Max’s observation of the Sun’s limited lifespan is rattled off as it no doubt entered his head: merely a factoid he absorbed while paying half-attention in class. But Gandolfini’s voice betrays a sense not only of curiosity but disquiet: knowing that this bleak expanse of land will only get worse is hard enough to process, but the news of the sun. The illusion of Carol’s safety breaks down, only to be instantly re-inflated by braggadocio as he assures Max (and, no less so, himself) that a tiny thing like the Sun could never concern them. In an instant, whatever stability Carol offers is replaced by the awareness of his false shade, all from the subtle inflections of Gandolfini’s voice.

Even better is the terrifying scene in which Carol realizes Max is not all he’s made out to be:

The intervallic gaps of Carol’s mood swings, as well as the focus of his inchoate feelings, rely fully on Gandolfini’s vocal pitches. The clip starts with Carol raging at Max for not living up to his promise, the monster’s confidence in his king totally eroded. When Carol’s best friend, Douglas, finally says aloud what everyone but Carol knew all along, that Max is no king, suddenly his friend turns on him. Having himself come close to calling Max a fraud, Carol cannot handle hearing that doubt confirmed aloud. The anger turns to an aghast whimper, the voice of a child who has flirted with a swear word but blanches when he hears it actually spoken. “Don’t say that. How could you say that? Don’t you dare say that,” Carol rapidly replies.

Gandolfini puts the emphasis in different places in each sentence, mapping out a frenzy of emotions in less than five seconds. The inability to pick a specific target for his feelings of anger, rage, resentment, confusion and hurt, bouncing viciously between the person who wounded him and the person who dared to point it out, completely reverses the father-son dynamic of Max and his imaginary friend: now it is Max, the progenitor of this vision of the id, who has become the neglectful, deceitful father and Carol who acts out the boy’s feelings toward his own dad. This is, naturally, a thematic shift established by Jonze’s direction and the script, but it is Gandolfini’s voice, with its slow erosion of wisdom and its sudden escalation of hostilities, that truly communicates the change.

Celebrity voice casting is, by and large, a useless and money-wasting gimmick. (Look up nearly any interview with Billy West to get some idea of how voice actors view such stunt-casting.) Often, big-name talent get paid more simply to talk in their normal voices than voice actors who can perform a half-dozen or more fully fleshed-out vocal parts, all for the dubious reward of slapping a familiar name on a poster. But Gandolfini gives an honest-to-God performance, one that covers a broad emotional spectrum but is always real and raw, capable of extracting considerable amounts of fear and heartbreak from the flesh he places on the costumed-and-computer-animated fuzzball that puts a body to his voice.

Gandolfini will rightly be remembered for Tony Soprano, unquestionably the most influential TV character of the modern era. That role built upon the actor’s live self over an extended period of time, hiding the mobster’s uninhibited macho id under a calculating superego that knows how to get what it wants without sacrificing an image of collected calm. As a part, Carol is the opposite of Tony: a disembodied presence that aggressively pursues what it has not even identified as a true desire. It’s the most visible example of how much Gandolfini liked to push himself, which can be seen in the acidic confidence he brought to a politically minded general in “In the Loop”, the “Oh, what next?” exasperation of his scandalized mayor in “The Taking of Pelham 123” and so much more.

Gandolfini never wanted for acclaim, but his work in “Where the Wild Things Are” is not merely a great performance but a defining one in its field of voice acting. The ultimate melancholy of the role makes it a fitting role to get stuck in my head at the moment, though that also makes the prospect of revisiting Gandolfini’s exceptional work in it too painful a task for the time being. The wrenching farewell scene that ends Max’s time with the Wild Things is not available online (or at least, it is not available as anything other than a repurposed music video), but if Gandolfini could play Carol as his own parent and child, the keening howl he creates for the monster’s goodbye makes an appropriately self-reflexive send off for himself.

This piece was originally published on Not Just Movies. It has been revised by the original author for the purposes of this republication.

Categories: Features

Tags: Jake Cole, James gandolfini, Max Powers, Spike jonze, Where the wild things are

Category Preview: Where Do We Stand on Best Actor?

All season, it’s been a one-man show in Best Actor. Daniel Day-Lewis, as he often does, is mowing down the competition. There’s sometimes a danger to being a frontrunner for so long, especially in an extended campaign season. Will the voters get bored and talk themselves into someone else? Here’s where we stand at the moment.

Daniel Day-Lewis, “Lincoln”
Oscar History: It only seems like DDL takes home the Oscar every time he’s nominated. He’s won twice, yes, for “My Left Foot” in 1989 and “There Will Be Blood” in 2007, but he’s also lost twice — in 1993, for “In the Name of the Father,” and in 2002 for “Gangs of New York.”
What’s the Story if He Wins? Kind of the same as the story right now: He’s the greatest actor of his generation. It’s not like he needs the validation. He’s not breaking any records (yet). The fact that nobody is scrambling to find alternatives to Day-Lewis’s steamroll is arguably the biggest testament to how well he’s regarded.
Predicted Order of People He’ll Thank: Steven Spielberg, Sally Field, Tony Kushner, his makeup artist, his wife, Abraham Lincoln, his cast of thousands.
What Are the Odds? As good as anything going on Oscar night.

Bradley Cooper, “Silver Linings Playbook”
Oscar History: None. Cruelly snubbed for “Wedding Crashers” in 2005. That smear campaign from the William Hurt people really did a number on him.
What’s the Story if He Wins? The power of Weinstein. People got bored with Daniel Day-Lewis’s dominance. All of Cooper’s 600 projects next year will get to sell their Oscar-winning star.
Predicted Order of People He’ll Thank: David O. Russell, Jennifer Lawrence, Robert De Niro, Jacki Weaver, assorted other co-stars hopefully including Julia Stiles, the city of Philadelphia, the choreographer, JJ Abrams, Jennifer Garner, Victor Garber, Lena Olin, Merrin Dungey.
What Are the Odds? Better than some, but still not great. He’s the lottery ticket worth having, at any rate.

Hugh Jackman, “Les Miserables”
Oscar History: First nomination, strangely enough. He’s ensconced enough in Oscar’s good graces after hosting the 2008 awards and has seemed an “Oscar type” for a while.
What’s the Story if He Wins? The “Les Mis” supporters were a silent majority the likes that Nixon never dreamed of. The rumble of the movie has died down in recent weeks as it’s faded from threat to win to comfortable also-ran. If there are still pockets of support to be rallied, and if those pockets are not satisfied merely with Supporting Actress, Jackman could see a surge of votes.
Predicted Order of People He’ll Thank: The Academy, Tom Hooper, Colm Wilkinson, Anne Hathaway, Amanda Seyfried, Eddie Redmayne, Victor Hugo, his lovely and patient wife, his fellow nominees for not singing through their own roles.
What Are the Odds? Not this time, I don’t think, but I can see him in line for more nominations and maybe a win down the line.

Joaquin Phoenix, “The Master”
Oscar History: Two previous nominations, for “Gladiator” and “Walk the Line,” both of which were terrible burdens to him, apparently.
What’s the Story if He Wins? The triumph of the anti-campaign! Don’t think it’ll be the first time that particular narrative gets told, either. And I somehow doubt Joaquin has the stones to pull a Brando or even a George C. Scott-like stunt if he does.
Predicted Order of People He’ll Thank: Paul Thomas Anderson, artists around the world who don’t pander, Casey Affleck.
What Are the Odds? Doesn’t look like it. For one thing, Daniel Day-Lewis is hogging all the “physical transformation”/”complete immersion into the role” attention. If Joaquin were to ever lower himself to campaign, that would have been the stuff to campaign on.

Denzel Washington, “Flight”
Oscar History: “Flight” marks Denzel’s sixth acting nomination. He’s got two wins. And while “Flight” marks a return to form for the actor, he’s probably going to need a “Lincoln”-like tour de force to win his third.
What’s the Story if He Wins? Hollywood Reeeeeally Loves Denzel. A-List box-office powerhouses are hard to come by, and we need to reward them accordingly. Secondary narrative: It really sometimes can be a one-man show. “Flight” is nothing without Denzel, and he deserves credit for that.
Predicted Order of People He’ll Thank: The Academy, God, Robert Zemeckis, Paramount, his fellow nominees, his wife, Tony Scott.
What Are the Odds? At the outset of this Oscar season, it seemed like it was Denzel vs. Daniel in a race for a third trophy, but “Flight” simply proved to be well less popular than “Lincoln.” Still, six nominations puts him in quite rarefied company. Now the hunt is on for the role that could unlock win #3.

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Tags: Academy awards, Best actor, Bradley cooper, Daniel day-lewis, Denzel washington, Flight, Hugh jackman, Joaquin phoenix, Les Miserables, Lincoln, Nominees, Oscars, Silver Linings Playbook, The master

Planet of the Apes: Where We’ve Been

In preparation for this summer’s prequel/reboot/preboot/whatever, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the Alamo Drafthouse and Badass Digest hosted a back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back screening of the original five films. (Tim Burton’s 2001 “re-imagining” was curiously absent.) As a newcomer to the sequels, here are some thoughts on a couple of the nuttiest sci-fi adventures cranked out in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s.

Planet of the Apes (1968)

You know what I forgot about this? How much of a jerk Taylor (Charlton Heston) is. Only he could be stranded on a seemingly foreign planet with two other astronauts and little hope for survival and go, “I told you so.” Their ship – the poorly-named Icarus (see also: Sunshine) – has taken them as far as 3978 A.D. Everyone that they knew is dead, and everything that they know is turned upside-down when, yep, it appears that apes have become dominant over man. The obvious topsy-turvy appeal of the plot remains, but the elements which eluded me as a kid prove striking still: its damning critique of rule under religion, the relatively subtle suggestion of racial role reversal in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement, and the extent to which Taylor is a fatalist – an attribute which makes that infamous reveal seem even bleaker than ever before.

Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970)

So what does Taylor do after discovering that he’s actually back on Earth? He continues into the desert with his mute lady friend, Nova, until they end up threatened by walls of flame and the sudden appearance of cliffs; Taylor vanishes shortly thereafter. Luckily enough, another astronaut appears, played by James Franciscus and clearly intended to substitute for a star who only agreed to return if he could shoot all of his scenes within two weeks’ time. This Brent fellow teams up with Nova, discovers that apes are running the joint now, discovers that the Forbidden Zone is actually New York City, et cetera, before making contact with a telepathic race of mutants who can create illusions of walls of flame and sudden cliffs, and who sound like a game of Simon when they communicate. Having already been subjected to nuclear fallout, this lot worships the world’s last remaining warhead and intends to use it against the apes. The primate forces proceed to shoot Nova, killing her, shoot Brent, killing him, and shoot Taylor, who then proceeds to set off the bomb and destroy everything on Earth. That’s right, Planet – you’ve been outbleaked!

Escape from the Planet of the Apes (1971)

So how do you make a sequel to the end of the world? Why, with time travel, of course! Apparently, while most apes were gunning down most humans, the always-sympathetic Cornelius and Zira (Roddy McDowell and Kim Hunter) repaired Taylor’s sunken ship and took off through the same time rift that brought those astronauts into the future. It’s now 1973, and the world is positively tickled by the existence of talking apes – save for Dr. Otto Hasslein (Eric Braeden), who realizes that these visitors, now with child, might be giving their species a head-start in eventually dominating the human race. Dr. Hasslein will proceed to gun down Cornelius, Zira and a young chimp decoy for their actual child before being gunned down himself. Their son, Milo, has been saved by kindly circus man Señor Armando (Ricardo friggin’ Montalbán) and soon utters his first words. Pretty bleak, and yet not bleak enough.

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972)

In 1972’s idea of 1991 Los Angeles, all humans wear black turtlenecks and all simians have been enslaved as first pets, then servants, after an epidemic killed all dogs and cats (an epidemic which we learn was caused by Cornelius and Zira’s journey back in time, from a future where the disease already existed). Milo is now Caesar, forced after an outspoken remark to integrate within the ranks of the enslaved and generally displeased with the way his fellow ape is treated. When Señor Armando dies following an interrogation, Caesar becomes convinced that rebellion is the only answer. Everything plays out as foretold, with Caesar leading his fellow slaves into tearing down the fascist establishment; his only human ally is an African-American man similarly disgusted with the oppressive Governor (Don Murray), rendering completely obvious any and all parallels to colonial slavery. MacDonald (Hari Rhodes) tries to plead for Caesar to show mercy, and fails, but when Caesar’s love interest, Lisa (series staple Natalie Trundy), utters her very first words in the man’s defense, he argues for ruling with humanity and not tyranny. (The original ending actually saw the Governor killed as ordered, maintaining the franchise’s penchant for bleakness up until that point. Let’s revolt against test audiences!)

Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973)

Apparently, apes and humans have pretty much gotten along since the uprising, effectively negating everything the first four films have established about one species coming to dominate the other. The gorillas aren’t happy, though, namely Aldo (Claude Akins), who used to be regarded as the first dissenting ape until Lisa and her test-audience ending came along and mucked the continuity up. Caesar and Lisa now have a son named Cornelius, named after that gunned-down grandfather of his, a father that Caesar never got to know. MacDonald (now Austin Stoker) encourages Caesar to return to the ruins of Los Angeles to see what documents about Cornelius, Sr. and Zira remain in the archives and what they might reveal about the future to come. They return armed, though, and the surviving humans (led by the man who interrogated poor Señor Armando to death) take that as provocation enough to strike back. Aldo takes their advances as cause enough to round up all humans and stage a coup for Caesar’s power – a coup overheard by Cornelius, Jr., who is then fatally injured by Aldo. (Got it? Good.) An attack ensues, and while Caesar doesn’t stop the gorilla from killing the retreating humans, he refuses to let Aldo kill the ones that already co-exist alongside apes. When it’s revealed that Aldo killed not only a fellow ape, but Caesar’s son at that, Caesar avenges his death proper and then apes and humans pretty much continue to get along, which suggests that nothing bleak will ever happen to Charlton Heston’s character after all.

Except that it already has. Great, now I’ve gone cross-eyed…

When and Where I Prefer to Watch Depressing Cinema

Let’s begin with a bit of sharing — I suffer from depression. I don’t have an official diagnosis or bottles of pills, but life often throws me curve balls that leave me huddled under my comforter or raging on my social networking. (And once again, let me extend an apology to those who follow me on both.) I have various ways to cope, and like most people, one of my ways of trying to haul myself out of a black mood is by watching a film.

Now, the popular consensus is that one should watch a happy, silly movie when one is depressed. This is certainly a good rule to follow. Laughter is the antithesis of sad, after all, and a favorite comedy often has the same effect as comfort food. They’re probably the top form of what Quentin Tarantino described as “the hang-out movie,”  the movie you watch just to spend time with the characters. These goofballs are your friends, and they’re putting on a show just to make you feel better.

But comedies don’t always work for me. Reality inevitably crowds in. These characters aren’t hanging out with me and trying to cheer me up. They’re mocking me with their superior lives! Just  look at their house, their friends, and their wardrobes — why isn’t my life like that? If my mood is awful enough, even a character suffering for comedy appears to be having a better time than I am. Margaret Dumont’s wealthy dowager may have been the butt of the Marx Brothers’ jokes, but she was still at parties, operas, and horse races, which is surely better than weeping at home in your pajamas.

In my humble and moody opinion, the best film to watch in a black mood is the violent or depressing, and preferably one that combines both. (Korean films are great for this; they’ve perfected the cathartic and misery-inducing story.) A bad day is quite often the best time to watch that bleak movie everyone has recommended, but you’ve dodged every night in favor of lighter fare. Girlfriend or boyfriend dumped you? Go on, watch Biutiful or 21 Grams. Did you get fired? You might as well pop in Antichrist; you’ve had it out from Netflix for six months. Did you lose a pet? Well, you’ve never seen Penny Serenade, tonight is the night.

This might seem like a horrific form of treatment, and it’s certainly not a habit you should continue for a great length of time. But let’s face it — you’re feeling terrible. You’re bound to feel worse before you get better. So just plunge into the deep end of your mood, and revisit The Deer Hunter or The Hours. After all, do you want a sad story to ruin a perfectly good mood?  No, you don’t.  So, just go with it.  The film may even resonate more because you’re in a bleak head space.

In a perverse way, it may even improve your mood. Even a depressing film will distract or you — or, if you prefer, it will focus you. It’s uncommon knowledge that sitting still and concentrating on any one thing for several hours is a form of meditation. That thing can be a book, a piece of music, or a film. By watching a movie, you’re meditating, and that’s a pretty popular prescription for mental and spiritual ailments. You may find yourself stilled by the cinematic experience, even if it’s a miserable one.

A depressing film can also help you get perspective. My Russian professor remarked that she liked watching Doctor Zhivago when she was depressed or disgusted with grading papers, because it reminded her that life could be a lot worse. I’ve always taken that to heart, and when misery strikes, I pick the movies where characters suffer war or disease as a bit of a slap to the face.

As a general rule, I also like to keep these sobbing, numbing experiences to my home, where I have blankets to hide in, dogs to pet, and pajamas to wear an unseemly amount of time. However, you can’t always pick the time or place when a movie will break you into bits. Sometimes there’s a gloomy film I’m dying to see and support in the theater, and so I go — regardless of mood — dragging friends or family with me so we can talk each other off the ledge and seek out so-called unicorn chasers.

But more often than not, I try to meet depressing cinema on its own ugly terms. You want to depress me, movie? You’ve already lost. I’m already depressed. So let’s get this over with, shall we? Bring on the Ingmar Bergman and Lars von Trier, and we’ll see who comes out laughing.