I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie.
Sorry, I'm plagiarizing. The above is actually taken from Roger Ebert's hilarious review of the movie "North", which remains one of my favorite reviews of all time even though I've never seen the film in question. With critical reaction like that, would you?
This film had been praised to me as one of the most romantic ever. Curious to see if anything could top the gold standard set by "Brokeback Mountain" or the Colin Firth version of "Pride and Prejudice", I gave this one a shot. I was aware of the slight plot twist, although careful observers can see the end coming about ten minutes in. **SPOILERS FOLLOW** James Garner and Gena Rowlands portray an elderly couple in an assisted-living facility. He reads to her daily from a notebook describing the love affair of two young people in the 1940's (played in flashback by Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams). The big surprise is that the two couples are the same people at different moments in time. The conceit itself is not irredeemable, even if a bit maudlin and pathetic in the original sense of the word, but it is hindered by the following problems:
1. Our main characters are assholes.
This idea first began to percolate in the scene where Gosling, upset that McAdams' moneyed parents don't want her dating someone poor, breaks off their relationship because it has no long-term potential. This will turn out to be his last sensible act. McAdams responds by following him outside, pushing him and punching his chest with her fists while telling him he can't leave her. This makes her an abuser, and one he would do well to stay away from. After this scene I found it impossible to root for them to end up together. McAdams meets and gets engaged to a handsome, wealthy stockbroker whom she genuinely seems to enjoy. However, she inexplicably abandons him after one night with Gosling, who has painstakingly restored the house where they first made love. His behavior has grown disturbing and creepy, and her decision to stay with him is insensitive and inexcusable. Things apparently don't change over time, either; as the end of the movie shows, the Garner version of the character reads the love story over and over to his wife, who is now stricken with Alzheimer's. She always forgets until the end of the story that it describes the two of them. Then for a few minutes, perhaps an hour, she remembers their love and is affectionate and warm toward Garner, until the dementia returns and she is dragged away screaming to be sedated, terrified by a man she does not remember. This behavior by Garner is sadistic in the extreme and forces an ill person into more misery just so that he can have a few minutes of validation by a woman who once cared for him.
2. The movie is an asshole.
We get no idea of what transpired between the two time periods directly shown to us in the film. The couple's children show up at one point, but we don't know anything about their births or childhoods. It is unrealistic to expect that such intense, giddy feelings would persist throughout a marriage of many decades, but if the film even tried to show us how these feelings have been nurtured throughout the marriage it would up the believability factor. "Away From Her" did a remarkable job of this while dealing with similar themes.
3. The director is an asshole.
Freud would have a field day with the idea of Nick Cassavetes directing his mother Gena Rowlands in a film where she fails to recognize her own children and has a spectacular, uncomfortable breakdown whose shadow looms over the end of the film. Rowlands' acting in this scene is volcanic, chaotic and utterly believable, reminiscent of the work she did for her husband John in far better films than this. My imagination fails when trying to conceive of the on-set atmosphere on this day of shooting. The way that the camera lingers and intrudes on her character's private, embarrassing moments would be slightly unethical if shot by anyone; the fact that it is the work of Rowlands' son is inexcusable.
The notion of this as one of the most romantic films ever is misguided and overlooks the glaring psychological flaws of every character. The aforementioned "Away From Her" is a textbook example of how to treat this material; "The Notebook" is a textbook example of everything one should not do.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
His Kind of Woman, 3.5 stars
Had I not had any expectations of this movie going in, it's likely I would have found it a four-star film. However, the sleeve brags of a "film noir with periodic incursions from the Monty Python crew", which set me up to expect a crazier, much more haphazard film than the one that I actually saw.
The casting is perfect and enjoyable as Robert Mitchum, a gambler who has been offered five figures to lie low in a Mexican resort for reasons unknown to him, arrives at the resort and promptly encounters Jane Russell. Kids, if something is too good to be true it is never what it seems. Being paid 10,000 to lounge in the sun and oil up Jane Russell is not something that happens to your average Joe. It turns out the gangsters who offered Mitchum the money are planning to kill him and steal his identity so they can smuggle their boss into the country.
This is boilerplate stuff, you say. Where does Monty Python come in? Well, the closest thing to a Python comes in the form of Vincent Price, playing a gun-crazy vacationing American actor. It is impossible to tell how this character was written because Price's performance is so over-the-top; he cries at his own films and spouts Shakespeare as if it is appropriate everyday conversation. It is also impossible to pay attention to anyone or anything else (even Jane Russell's "things") when he is in the frame. He completely steals this movie from Mitchum, who always tends toward the laconic, and Russell, whose thespian abilities were never the whole reason she was given roles. While it's true that the film has a zanier sensibility than most films noirs, this is not a particularly high achievement. The serious, fatalistic tone of crime films of this era has been replaced by an airy Mexican setting (still with its share of venetian blinds through which light can fall) and witty banter without the deadly double entendres of an average film noir. Those attributes add a star to what is otherwise an average and predictable plot, but they aren't enough to raise it to a four-star, Monty Python-level rating.
The casting is perfect and enjoyable as Robert Mitchum, a gambler who has been offered five figures to lie low in a Mexican resort for reasons unknown to him, arrives at the resort and promptly encounters Jane Russell. Kids, if something is too good to be true it is never what it seems. Being paid 10,000 to lounge in the sun and oil up Jane Russell is not something that happens to your average Joe. It turns out the gangsters who offered Mitchum the money are planning to kill him and steal his identity so they can smuggle their boss into the country.
This is boilerplate stuff, you say. Where does Monty Python come in? Well, the closest thing to a Python comes in the form of Vincent Price, playing a gun-crazy vacationing American actor. It is impossible to tell how this character was written because Price's performance is so over-the-top; he cries at his own films and spouts Shakespeare as if it is appropriate everyday conversation. It is also impossible to pay attention to anyone or anything else (even Jane Russell's "things") when he is in the frame. He completely steals this movie from Mitchum, who always tends toward the laconic, and Russell, whose thespian abilities were never the whole reason she was given roles. While it's true that the film has a zanier sensibility than most films noirs, this is not a particularly high achievement. The serious, fatalistic tone of crime films of this era has been replaced by an airy Mexican setting (still with its share of venetian blinds through which light can fall) and witty banter without the deadly double entendres of an average film noir. Those attributes add a star to what is otherwise an average and predictable plot, but they aren't enough to raise it to a four-star, Monty Python-level rating.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Twilight, 3.5 stars
So here it is, my entry point to a phenomenon that simmered in the back of my awareness for the better part of a year (starting when I moved to a relatively Mormon area of the country). Of course, being the cinephile I am, I waited until the movie had come out and the clamor for it had died down. The film seemed the natural way for me to approach the story; if I can't find something to like in a film, it's unlikely that I will enjoy other forms of the story (especially if the novel forms have a reputation for sophomoric, adverbial writing).
The good news is that there is something to like in the film of "Twilight", and possibly several things depending on your gender and tolerance for teenage shoegazing. Catherine Hardwicke directs, and brings her usual deft touch for the feelings and inner workings of teenagers to this film just as she did with "Lords of Dogtown" and "Thirteen" (the latter is hearsay; I've yet to see it). She has a rare ability to take teenagers as seriously as they take themselves, while still taking the audience outside the most melodramatic moments and reminding us that, come college, none of the characters will remember most of what we're seeing.
The twist here is that many of her characters will be remembering these events forever. For those of you living under rocks for the last couple of years, the plot concerns the Cullen family, vampires who abstain from human blood, and the dangers arising when their son Edward falls in love with clumsy mortal Bella Swan. The setting is the Pacific Northwest, ideal for creatures averse to sunlight, and Bella has just moved to the tiny town of Forks. The rest of the story reads like a wish-fulfillment for any young woman who ever felt awkward or misunderstood in high school. (I think that would be all of us.) So many of the confusions of teenage boys are made literal in Edward: he can read minds, but not Bella's, which explains why he always knows the right thing to say but stammers and hedges when she is around. He disappears for long periods with no explanation (turns out he's hunting mountain lions to eat) and seems to love Bella one day and hate her the next (the result of his efforts not to suck her fragrant blood at any given moment). If only such reasonable explanations existed for the vagaries of real teenage boys!
The advantages of the film are its cinematography, which is appropriately gorgeous yet chilling, and the work put forth by all the actors to make a generically-written, underplotted young adult novel into compelling cinema. Much of the dialogue made it onscreen intact, which surely pleased fans but results in clunky, amateurish lines that Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart mostly make believable through herculean effort. Pattinson in particular, like the other Cullens, is saddled with a pasty, caked makeup job that makes him look less like the undead and more like a deranged KISS fan. But the film is mostly entertaining, and its 2 hours don't feel limp in places or overlong like many teen movies today. After seeing the film I was inspired to read the books because of the curiosity the film implanted in me. I cared about these characters and wanted to know what happened to them next. The twelve-year-old girl in you may feel the same way; those without a 12-year-old girl somewhere inside them may want to seek entertainment elsewhere.
The good news is that there is something to like in the film of "Twilight", and possibly several things depending on your gender and tolerance for teenage shoegazing. Catherine Hardwicke directs, and brings her usual deft touch for the feelings and inner workings of teenagers to this film just as she did with "Lords of Dogtown" and "Thirteen" (the latter is hearsay; I've yet to see it). She has a rare ability to take teenagers as seriously as they take themselves, while still taking the audience outside the most melodramatic moments and reminding us that, come college, none of the characters will remember most of what we're seeing.
The twist here is that many of her characters will be remembering these events forever. For those of you living under rocks for the last couple of years, the plot concerns the Cullen family, vampires who abstain from human blood, and the dangers arising when their son Edward falls in love with clumsy mortal Bella Swan. The setting is the Pacific Northwest, ideal for creatures averse to sunlight, and Bella has just moved to the tiny town of Forks. The rest of the story reads like a wish-fulfillment for any young woman who ever felt awkward or misunderstood in high school. (I think that would be all of us.) So many of the confusions of teenage boys are made literal in Edward: he can read minds, but not Bella's, which explains why he always knows the right thing to say but stammers and hedges when she is around. He disappears for long periods with no explanation (turns out he's hunting mountain lions to eat) and seems to love Bella one day and hate her the next (the result of his efforts not to suck her fragrant blood at any given moment). If only such reasonable explanations existed for the vagaries of real teenage boys!
The advantages of the film are its cinematography, which is appropriately gorgeous yet chilling, and the work put forth by all the actors to make a generically-written, underplotted young adult novel into compelling cinema. Much of the dialogue made it onscreen intact, which surely pleased fans but results in clunky, amateurish lines that Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart mostly make believable through herculean effort. Pattinson in particular, like the other Cullens, is saddled with a pasty, caked makeup job that makes him look less like the undead and more like a deranged KISS fan. But the film is mostly entertaining, and its 2 hours don't feel limp in places or overlong like many teen movies today. After seeing the film I was inspired to read the books because of the curiosity the film implanted in me. I cared about these characters and wanted to know what happened to them next. The twelve-year-old girl in you may feel the same way; those without a 12-year-old girl somewhere inside them may want to seek entertainment elsewhere.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Revolutionary Road, 4.5 stars
I was pleasantly surprised by this film, which I should have disliked for several reasons. I read the book first and found several parts of it unfilmable without extensive voiceover. The character of April was underwritten, which did not prevent the book from being extremely involving but which could make for a lopsided and uninteresting film. Then I found out about the casting of Leonardo DiCaprio as Frank, which conjured up the unappetizing prospect of a whiny, one-sided film told entirely from the perspective of one of my least favorite actors.
And yet, here I am, giving it 4.5 stars. The unhappy side of 1950's suburban life has never been given quite so banal a face as those of Frank and April Wheeler. Intelligent but not gifted, they are convinced they are somehow "above" their neighbors, even as they burrow deeper and deeper into such an existence. They attempt to persuade themselves that suburbia is a stopover, temporary, just until the children grow up. Then they will live the bohemian lives they envisioned when they first got married. Of course, Frank finds being a "company man" more fulfilling than he ever imagined, and suddenly "excuses" begin to crop up and delay the family's move to Paris.
The casting of DiCaprio in this story has the (probably unintended) effect of making this April's story much more than Frank's, reversing one of my main quibbles with the book. Kate Winslet's performance as April is so far above DiCaprio's that we come away with a deep sense of April as a person, and exactly how her wants and desires converged to drive her actions. Even when she is listening in silence to others or drinking a martini in the background, her expressions tell us more than DiCaprio gives us during his few explosive scenes of emotion. At the end of the film, his strange complacency in the face of tragedy is no more inexplicable than any of his other reactions thanks to DiCaprio's youthful cipher of a face. It has a certain appropriateness, given how repressed men's emotional lives were at this time, but Winslet's grace and stubborn refusal to see the truth are the emotions we leave the theater with. As an evocation of its milieu of unhappy households and the myriad ways in which they differ and yet are alike, Revolutionary Road has no equal.
And yet, here I am, giving it 4.5 stars. The unhappy side of 1950's suburban life has never been given quite so banal a face as those of Frank and April Wheeler. Intelligent but not gifted, they are convinced they are somehow "above" their neighbors, even as they burrow deeper and deeper into such an existence. They attempt to persuade themselves that suburbia is a stopover, temporary, just until the children grow up. Then they will live the bohemian lives they envisioned when they first got married. Of course, Frank finds being a "company man" more fulfilling than he ever imagined, and suddenly "excuses" begin to crop up and delay the family's move to Paris.
The casting of DiCaprio in this story has the (probably unintended) effect of making this April's story much more than Frank's, reversing one of my main quibbles with the book. Kate Winslet's performance as April is so far above DiCaprio's that we come away with a deep sense of April as a person, and exactly how her wants and desires converged to drive her actions. Even when she is listening in silence to others or drinking a martini in the background, her expressions tell us more than DiCaprio gives us during his few explosive scenes of emotion. At the end of the film, his strange complacency in the face of tragedy is no more inexplicable than any of his other reactions thanks to DiCaprio's youthful cipher of a face. It has a certain appropriateness, given how repressed men's emotional lives were at this time, but Winslet's grace and stubborn refusal to see the truth are the emotions we leave the theater with. As an evocation of its milieu of unhappy households and the myriad ways in which they differ and yet are alike, Revolutionary Road has no equal.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
MASH, 4 stars
What is left to say about a movie so classic as this, and one whose reputation holds up upon viewing such a unique and humanistic film? I won't reiterate the plot; it is languid and multi-faceted and most people are familiar with at least some aspects through either this film or the T.V. show that followed. I will simply say that while it is impossible to imagine film now without the influence of this movie's laconic yet surprisingly sharp style, trying to imagine how influential it was is quite a thought experiment.
Robert Altman had been a director of shorts and television before this film brought his name to national attention. His style is instantly recognizable. Overlapping conversations, a roaming camera, and an improvisational spirit are already present, although he would refine these signature techniques in countless ways over the long career that followed. I was surprised when researching this film afterward to find that there was strife on-set and that Donald Sutherland and Elliott Gould spent most of the movie trying to get Altman fired. Anyone seeing the finished product will wonder why The style, as well as being distinctive, is a perfect fit for the material and the performances are uniformly hilarious and appropriate. When a note of stronger emotion interjects, it is always handled perfectly and the overall tone of the film doesn't suffer. Why, then, only 4 stars for the film? While Altman's style is instantly engaging, there are minor pacing problems, and some of the characters seem underwritten (if you can stop laughing at them long enough to ponder such an issue). I am also grading on a sort of reverse curve, having seen later Altman films which show the heights to which he would take his unique filmmaking style. While this early example is terrific on its own merits, as an Altman film it hovers around second or third place among those I've seen. Still not one to miss at any cost; take it from someone who missed this film for 28 years and now feels relieved at remedying that oversight.
Robert Altman had been a director of shorts and television before this film brought his name to national attention. His style is instantly recognizable. Overlapping conversations, a roaming camera, and an improvisational spirit are already present, although he would refine these signature techniques in countless ways over the long career that followed. I was surprised when researching this film afterward to find that there was strife on-set and that Donald Sutherland and Elliott Gould spent most of the movie trying to get Altman fired. Anyone seeing the finished product will wonder why The style, as well as being distinctive, is a perfect fit for the material and the performances are uniformly hilarious and appropriate. When a note of stronger emotion interjects, it is always handled perfectly and the overall tone of the film doesn't suffer. Why, then, only 4 stars for the film? While Altman's style is instantly engaging, there are minor pacing problems, and some of the characters seem underwritten (if you can stop laughing at them long enough to ponder such an issue). I am also grading on a sort of reverse curve, having seen later Altman films which show the heights to which he would take his unique filmmaking style. While this early example is terrific on its own merits, as an Altman film it hovers around second or third place among those I've seen. Still not one to miss at any cost; take it from someone who missed this film for 28 years and now feels relieved at remedying that oversight.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Scanners, 3 stars
The good news is the head-explosion scene has aged remarkably well and is still quite shocking even in today's desensitized filmgoing climate. The bad news is that the movie around it probably looked dated when it was released and now looks even worse. This is a classic by early Cronenberg standards, similar in tone and skill to "Shivers", which was made six years earlier. Between the two films Cronenberg made "The Brood", a film that foreshadowed what a fine and distinctive director he would become. But "The Brood" is bookended by two films that hint at Cronenberg's obsession with bodily fluids and control of the physical by the mental, yet which both feature acting which could be confused with line reading and wardrobes that seem to have come from the actors' own closets.
Cameron, our hero, wanders the world hearing the thoughts of others and being able to control them (the film calls this ability "scanning"). For this he has been ostracized and wanders as a vagrant until a kindly doctor takes him in and shows him how to control this ability. In return for these skills the doctor would like Cameron to find a rogue scanner named Darryl Revok, who has been leading an underground movement and threatening stability with his mind-reading powers.
**HERE BE SPOILERS** In a final-act twist that will surprise no one, Cameron and Darryl are revealed to be brothers. An unintentionally hilarious scanning showdown follows, in which Stephen Lack (Cameron) and Michael Ironsides (Darryl) frown intently at each other for several minutes and bug their eyes until one of them catches on fire. I won't give away the result, but suffice to say that the blaze seems to have freed up the loser for a long and prolific career as a film heavy, while the winner was never heard from again.*
**SPOILERS END HERE**
It may sound as though my opinion of this film merits somewhat less than three stars. In defense of my rating I will say that, were this a one-time film from a director we never heard from again, it would earn fewer points. Sad, but true. As a step in the career of David Cronenberg, however, it reveals early stages of many obsessions he would later elaborate on. The fact that in 1981 someone was shooting bags of liver with shotguns and calling it cinema is encouraging, and the long and ever-evolving career this man had ahead of him is even more so.
*Apparently this is a half-truth. Stephen Lack, who appears to be reading from cue cards for this entire film, has a few other credits to his name. Cronenberg apparently gave him a part in "Dead Ringers", which I have not yet seen, and he had an unnamed role in something called "A 20th Century Chocolate Cake" in 1983. His most recent credit is "Ernstfall in Havanna" from 2002, which is apparently in Swiss German. I rest my case.
Cameron, our hero, wanders the world hearing the thoughts of others and being able to control them (the film calls this ability "scanning"). For this he has been ostracized and wanders as a vagrant until a kindly doctor takes him in and shows him how to control this ability. In return for these skills the doctor would like Cameron to find a rogue scanner named Darryl Revok, who has been leading an underground movement and threatening stability with his mind-reading powers.
**HERE BE SPOILERS** In a final-act twist that will surprise no one, Cameron and Darryl are revealed to be brothers. An unintentionally hilarious scanning showdown follows, in which Stephen Lack (Cameron) and Michael Ironsides (Darryl) frown intently at each other for several minutes and bug their eyes until one of them catches on fire. I won't give away the result, but suffice to say that the blaze seems to have freed up the loser for a long and prolific career as a film heavy, while the winner was never heard from again.*
**SPOILERS END HERE**
It may sound as though my opinion of this film merits somewhat less than three stars. In defense of my rating I will say that, were this a one-time film from a director we never heard from again, it would earn fewer points. Sad, but true. As a step in the career of David Cronenberg, however, it reveals early stages of many obsessions he would later elaborate on. The fact that in 1981 someone was shooting bags of liver with shotguns and calling it cinema is encouraging, and the long and ever-evolving career this man had ahead of him is even more so.
*Apparently this is a half-truth. Stephen Lack, who appears to be reading from cue cards for this entire film, has a few other credits to his name. Cronenberg apparently gave him a part in "Dead Ringers", which I have not yet seen, and he had an unnamed role in something called "A 20th Century Chocolate Cake" in 1983. His most recent credit is "Ernstfall in Havanna" from 2002, which is apparently in Swiss German. I rest my case.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The Hurt Locker, 4.5 stars
This is quite possibly the most suspenseful movie I have ever seen, which becomes even more of an achievement considering that I was spoilered before going in. Hitchcock said that showing the audience a bomb under the table while innocuous conversation goes on overhead was suspense. I can report to the master that it is possible to show a procession of bombs, under all manner of tables and with all manner of conversation going on overhead, not all of which will go off, and create a nearly unbearable amount of suspense.
Our story centers on a bomb disposal expert in Iraq. I am spoiling nothing to tell you that his predecessor dies in the first fifteen minutes of the film in quite possibly the best-filmed explosion I have ever seen. This is not a film concerned with the politics or justifications of the second Iraq war. This is a film about a group of men who cannot choose the comrades they must work and possibly die with, who get through endless stretches of alternating boredom and adrenaline in the ways that men always have: wrestling, whiskey, and cigarettes. Jeremy Renner gives a performance of such subtlety that it at first seems out of place in such a loud, unpredictable environment. However, a man in such a situation would not wear his feelings openly. He would show us through movements of eyebrows or the corners of his mouth how he feels about the life he left behind. It is a common complaint that men wear a sort of armor over their emotions; a man who makes his living in a physical version of that suit would not be given to weeping or speeches. The supporting performances are equally strong; a moment when Renner's companions seriously consider "accidentally" killing him to prevent his foolhardy behavior could easily have drawn unintentional laughs. Instead it seems serious and affecting.
The verisimilitude of the film is remarkable. I know comparatively little about matters such as accents or whether the extras were actually locals. Suffice to say that this film feels more authentic than many documentaries I've seen which were actually filmed in Iraq. Nothing is spared for the audience's sake, and we come away with more understanding and empathy for the men on the ground there than after a confection like "Gunner Palace", which wastes time showing us soldiers' amateur rap sessions. A word about the direction of this film: I could write a separate entry about the implications of the fact that Kathryn Bigelow, a woman, directed this film. It can never again be said that a woman can't direct an action film. Perhaps I am being overly generous, but the attitude this film takes toward its characters feels distinctively feminine to me. Giving characters development and daring to ask us to care about them feels almost new for a film of this type. If this is the beginning of a new type of action film, someday to dethrone the testosterone-driven"Transformers" model, it would be long overdue.
Our story centers on a bomb disposal expert in Iraq. I am spoiling nothing to tell you that his predecessor dies in the first fifteen minutes of the film in quite possibly the best-filmed explosion I have ever seen. This is not a film concerned with the politics or justifications of the second Iraq war. This is a film about a group of men who cannot choose the comrades they must work and possibly die with, who get through endless stretches of alternating boredom and adrenaline in the ways that men always have: wrestling, whiskey, and cigarettes. Jeremy Renner gives a performance of such subtlety that it at first seems out of place in such a loud, unpredictable environment. However, a man in such a situation would not wear his feelings openly. He would show us through movements of eyebrows or the corners of his mouth how he feels about the life he left behind. It is a common complaint that men wear a sort of armor over their emotions; a man who makes his living in a physical version of that suit would not be given to weeping or speeches. The supporting performances are equally strong; a moment when Renner's companions seriously consider "accidentally" killing him to prevent his foolhardy behavior could easily have drawn unintentional laughs. Instead it seems serious and affecting.
The verisimilitude of the film is remarkable. I know comparatively little about matters such as accents or whether the extras were actually locals. Suffice to say that this film feels more authentic than many documentaries I've seen which were actually filmed in Iraq. Nothing is spared for the audience's sake, and we come away with more understanding and empathy for the men on the ground there than after a confection like "Gunner Palace", which wastes time showing us soldiers' amateur rap sessions. A word about the direction of this film: I could write a separate entry about the implications of the fact that Kathryn Bigelow, a woman, directed this film. It can never again be said that a woman can't direct an action film. Perhaps I am being overly generous, but the attitude this film takes toward its characters feels distinctively feminine to me. Giving characters development and daring to ask us to care about them feels almost new for a film of this type. If this is the beginning of a new type of action film, someday to dethrone the testosterone-driven"Transformers" model, it would be long overdue.
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