A Modest Proposal...for which I am legally entitled to 5% of the pre-tax gross.

I just rewatched Paul Greengrass' superb docudrama about Northern Ireland Bloody Sunday, one of the very best films of the young century and a big reason why Paul Greengrass is one of the most exciting filmmakers currently operating. In addition to the real life intensity-fests of Bloody Sunday and last year's United 93, Greengrass has also directed the last two Bourne films, with the same consistently thrilling, powerful handheld style. His stuff is a giant FUCK YOU to all the nitwits out there who bitch about the "pretensiousness" of handheld camerawork: watch these films, then try to tell me that they would be more effective with a lot of crane shots and steadycam shit. Not only does the handheld style convey stark, queasy realism, it makes things feel spontaneous, which is important when you specialize, as Greengrass does, in recreating historical events. Anyone going to see Bloody Sunday knows that it ends with the Paras emptying a bunch of rifle clips into unarmed Catholic protestors, as anyone going to see United 93 knows that it ends with the plane crashing into a field in Pennsylvania. Yet, watching Greengrass' recreations, the audience feels a sense of dread and apprehension not only due to what we know is coming, but also from the delusional but strong sense that ANYTHING can happen. The documentary style totally ignores traditional film grammar, requiring the audience to hunt through the tangle of unorganized, overlapping dialogue and action for meaning. There's a scene early on in Bloody Sunday in which Ivan Cooper, the Protestant MP who lead the non-violent civil rights march that sparked the confrontation, confers with a car full of IRA gunmen. Cooper tries to convince them to keep their guns away from the protest, the head gunman (it's probably supposed to be Martin McGinness) tells him "your marches aren't going to change anything." Cooper responds with the certainty of the righteous: "Watch us." It's the kind of moment that most movies would grind to a halt in order to emphasize. The camera would pull in for a tight close-up on Cooper's face, set in steely determination, as he said "Watch us." There would probably be some sort of orchestral sting, as well. Instead, Greengrass shoots the exchange from long distance, with Cooper's face obscured by the door of the car. If the viewer finds that particular bit of dialogue important, he has to work for it: just like in real life, moments of significance don't announce themselves while they happen. They occur in the same bustle of quotidian and hectic details that make up every moment of the day. They only take on significance in retrospect.

Anyway, this little encomium to Paul Greengrass is all an introduction to a bold idea I had today. In my review of Darjeeling Limited, I aired my suspicion that Wes Anderson might be reaching the limits of potential for his particular brand of upper class quirkfest. While Paul Greengrass' films are uniformily excellent, and the prospect of him doing a film about Iraq (adapting the book Imperial Life in the Emerald City) and Vietnam (adapting the book They Marched into Sunlight), according to imdb.com his next two projects, are both very exciting, there is a danger that he might get caught in a similar rut. Here's my bold idea: what if Wes Anderson were to direct Greengrass's script for, say They Marched into Sunlight while Greengrass directs Anderson's next script? Think about it: Wes Anderson trying to shoot an ambush of U.S. troops in Vietnam with pristine framing and meticulous set design while Paul Greengrass jittery-cameras his way through a quirky domestic dramedy. Such an experiement would take both directors out of their respective comfort zones and could result in utterly fresh approaches to the material.