Rob Caravaggio Commentaries

Yes, the entire movie is like this

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In this episode, I reach into the requests pile for a criminally underrated 2012 picture about criminally overconfident numbskulls. Before listening to this commentary, pick yourself up some K-fry-C—that way you can nosh through your bucket as I talk through one of 2012's most delightful surprises, Billy Friedkin's Killer Joe. Aside from the revelation that is Juno Temple, the track covers the whys and hows of Friedkin's old-school talent and the underrated genius of Old Man McConaughey. The film's opening sequence reminds me of the old Universal monster movies, and I say why. Then, I launch into an argument for Caleb Deschanel's stark, suggestive lighting schemes, without commenting on his cooky-sexy genes. Also, I find time to laugh at Thomas Hayden Church and Gina Gershon. I mean, I laugh with them. Listen for me calling out the sync point, which comes just after LionsGate logo on the Region-1 DVD.

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What happens in the doorway doesn't stay in the doorway in Asgar Farhadi's A Separation

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I've decided that a great way to start 2013 is with what I regarded as the best movie of 2011—Asgar Farhadi's A Separation. Throughout the commentary, I attempt to stop myself from gushing about such a fantastic work of art, and fail miserably. With hardly a bad word to say about Farhadi's pre-classic masterpiece, I fall back on cinema geekery. I attempt to situate the movie within the larger context of Iranian movies, providing a sloppy-but-well-meaning crash course in the cinema of that fascinating nation. Ultimately, I seem to conclude that what makes the film work is that it's actually a mystery movie that doesn't tell you it's a mystery movie until there's this huge, yet still somehow understated, reveal that makes you say "Holy cow!" If you don't like this movie, I'm afraid it will be hard for us to remain friends. It's not me; it's you.

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De Niro and Moriarty take a mulligan while playing putt-putt golf in Raging Bull

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Before I get to some less-beloved Marty joints (coming soon), the series on Scorsese continues to hopscotch through the undeniable masterpieces, landing on the much-admired Raging Bull. What is it about Scorsese's technique that so tickles P.T. Anderson's  fancy? And how is it that a book so bad can become so affecting when adapted to the screen? (My best guess: the involvement of one Paul Schrader, and a director whose sense for the operatic doesn't out-pace his penchant for street-level realism.) I sing the praises of some newcomer named Joe Pesci and opine on such things as the the Martin-Schrader-Scorsese-De Niro storytelling structure, the film's massaging of some real-world facts, and why it seems to be more highly regarded among directors than among critics (as reflected in the Sight & Sound polls). I manage to not get sidetracked talking about post-war professional prize-fighting or, for that matter, the many gorgeous classic automobiles visible in the movie. As always, listen for the countdown to sync up with your copy of the film. And remember: I'm the boss I'm the boss I'm the boss I'm the boss I'm the boss I'm the boss I'm the boss...

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A conflict resolution specialist

RC-2012-108: High Fidelity (2000)

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Look, conflict resolution is my job, so on this commentary track for High Fidelity, I'm once and for all resolving the question of whether this quasi-classic Cusack joint is, at bottom, a movie about loving cool music or a merely love movie with cool music in it. (I never answer this, but the former seems far more interesting, does it not?) Aside from marveling at how well the film gets away with Cusack's fourth-wall demolition job, I analyze how the essence of Hornby's novel was preserved despite the story being Americanized, and I get down and dirty thinking out loud about how refreshing it was back in 2000 to see a romantic comedy that did something unexpected with the tiresome sub-genre. You know, by being genuinely romantic and comedic. Does Catherine Zeta-Jones belong in this movie? And speaking of casting, did you know that within High Fidelity we have the best template ever for the use of this thing called "Jack Black." Actually, the Jack Black character, Barry, is a fine example of how a well-written supporting character can function in a story: he's in the background, snagging a few lines of dialogue here and there, and has himself a casually and seemingly non-essential little subplot that gets paid off in a way that is integral to the third act. And if that doesn't sell you on it, you get to see his ass crack as well. To sync with the commentary, hit "pause" when the Touchstone Pictures logo fades to black, and hit "play" when I tells ya.

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Look up "schnook" in the dictionary, and you find this photo

RC-2012-107 (The Scorsese Series): Goodfellas (1990)

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After rifling through the suggestion box, I've decided to take the enthusiastic advice of my stalwart listener and e-mail correspondent, Glenn, and dedicate an entire series of commentaries to the work of Martin Scorsese. Since an earlier episode of the podcast already tackled a Scorsese film (1986's The Color of Money), we've given ourselves an inadvertent head start. With a filmography spanning several decades, Scorsese has made (in my opinion) four undeniable masterpieces and no fewer than a half-dozen arguable masterpieces. We'll definitely go off the beaten path in this series, as we've done already with The Color of Money, but this episode proceeds right to one of the more predictable entries from the "undeniable masterpiece" pile, 1990's gangster epic Goodfellas. The commentary explores the film's fidelity to the source material (the true-crime book Wiseguy), the ways in which Scorsese and The Sopranos both understood the profound surrealism that must be inherent to life in the mafia, and why that scene in which Ray Liotta talks directly to camera is so satisfying. The track was recorded while viewing the Region 1 DVD of the film, and the sync point is just after the MGM logo has faded to black.

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Steve McQueen is wearing a hat and scarf while his actors are in undershirts

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In this episode, Rob determines that the breakout film for both McQueen and Fassbender is really just "The Lost Weekend, with fucking." While singing the praises of Fassbender and Carey Mulligan, the commentary considers whether or not sex addiction is really addiction (answer: I haven't a clue; ask a clinician) and how exceptionally the film captures the douche-y yuppies who populate the trendy bars in lower-Manhattan at quitting-time. If you learn anything from this commentary it should be that, while sex addiction can be a struggle, wearing a hoodie underneath a suit jacket—that's a real cry for help. Rob is proud of the fact that this is a movie about sex—glorious sex—and not once did he say the words "That what she said." Not once. The sync point is just after the Fox Searchlight Pictures title card.

Listen to the mp3. Or go on a sex bender with the ghost of Steve Jobs by downloading from iTunes.

Hey, remember the algorithm?

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In this episode, Rob gives part of his attention—the minimum amount—to what was one of the best and most surprising films of 2010, the Fincher-Sorkin-Reznor masterpiece known as The Social Network. The commentary gabbing analyzes stuff like the project's unusual development, Ben Mezrich's unusual book The Accidental Billionaires, and why Jesse Eisenberg seems to get the relationship between genius and being socially unusual. Listen and learn about how the screenplay takes the right kind of dramatic license and what The Social Network has in common with Casablanca. Synchronize your copy of the film to the commentary using the Columbia Pictures logo that precedes the opening credits.

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Almodovar and Banderas on the set of The Skin I Live In

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After a few plot twists and turns, Rob concludes that Almodovar's most recent film is ultimately about compassion. We all do bad things, but only some of us kidnap and castrate those who do bad things—and that's the theme of this wildly disturbing romp through the Spanish countryside. ...Or something like that. On the one hand, Rob muses, the film is a change of pace for the great director, but on the other hand so much of this is just so Pedro. In this commentary, the color red will be discussed and brightly lit by the hot, Spanish sunlight. If you are running the Region-1 DVD or Blu-Ray, you can get synchronized at around the 1:30 mark using the Sony Pictures Classics logo.

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Tom Cruise shoots his new look on the set of The Color of Money—"Blue Steel" meet "Balabushka"

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Following up on our previous adventure with The Hustler, Rob explores a movie that for many constitutes "lesser Scorsese"—1986's The Color of Money. Among other things, this commentary touches upon the impressive lead performances, the perennial manic weirdness of Tom Cruise, and the pitch-perfect supporting turns by a bearded John Turturro and a somehow already-awesome Forest Whittaker. The sync point is announced at the 1:00 mark and corresponds to the Touchstone Pictures logo that immediately precedes the film on most home video editions.

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Piper Laurie works on her cursive in The Hustler

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This time, Rob straps in for the epic tale of "Fast" Eddie Felson, played by Paul Newman, in one of the most lauded films of 1961. Musings include the inside dope on the pocket billiards wizardry depicted in the movie, the curious case of Piper Laurie's hairdo, and the transcendent force of nature known as George C. Scott. This is one of the great, gritty, and ultimately tragic CinemaScope masterpieces of the period. 1.) Keep eyes peeled for Jake LaMotta's cameo as a bartender, and 2.) keep ears peeled for the sync-point countdown given at around the 1:35 mark and corresponding to the black-and-white 20th Century Fox logo that begins the film.

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