Film Walrus Reviews

Now I Can Die!

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 23:26:00 +0000

A couple days ago I watched the last film from Steven Jay Schneider's book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die thus freeing me up to expire, pursue other hobbies or, as is most likely, continue watching more movies. I recommend the book and enjoyed the choices, though of course not everything will appeal to everyone. The choices are culled from a number of critics and film writers who explain what the films are about and why they were included. It's a fun book, given to me by my parents some years ago, that has served as a wonderful source for my exploration of the medium.

A few years ago I mentioned my love for top 1000 movie lists, which continues to this day, although I have yet to complete perhaps the definitive one curated by They Shoot Pictures Don't They. The TSPDT list is a meta-list combining top 10s from directors, critics and other film experts and it gets updated based on new material every year, an event which, I'm ashamed to admit, I anticipate with glee and terror. I've come as close as 5 films from the finish line (all damnably hard to track down), but the 2013 update has knocked me 20+ films back.

For those who care about this time of thing the 2013 update was a fairly dramatic shake-up mostly due to the 2012 once-a-decade international Sight and Sound poll which introduced 124 changes. This was the first year where I think the list got more highbrow (some of the entries go too far, but everyone has their opinion); the tendency being for more mainstream films to rise to the top and rare/challenging works to drop off as more lists are contributed. I am pleased to see a lot of my favorites movies join the list including a whopping 10 from my personal top 100:

Possession (1981), Synecdoche New York, Tree of Life, The Intruder (2004), El Topo, Harakiri, Yellow Submarine, Repo Man, The White Ribbon, No Country for Old Men, WALLE, A Separation, Dancer in the Dark, The Holy Mountain, Stardust Memories, Amelie, Koyaanisqatsi and Tale of Tales are among my favorite newcomers!

I've still got my work cut out for me finishing the TSPDT list (especially if I actually intend to sit through Empire, Andy Warhol's 8 hour shot of the Empire State Building) and no end of other movie lists, but finishing 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die leaves a certain void that I need to fill. Fortunately the 1001 series has branched out to other areas! I'm at 255 from 1001 Books You Must Read and 343 on the rather dubious 1001 Videogames You Must Play.

Here are some other lists I may (or may not) work on:
1001 Disc Golf Courses You Must Play Before You Die (I only wish)
1001 Kittens You Must Snuggle Before You Die
1001 War Crimes You Must Commit Before You Die (worthwhile just to see who contributed)
1001 Yarns You Must Spin Before You Dye (for Sarah)
1001 Odors You Must Smell Before You Die
1001 Animals You Must Taxidermy Before You Die
1001 Trains You Must Spot Before You Die (this probably exists)
1001 Pages You Must Turn Before You Die (abridged edition)
1001 1001 Lists You Must Check Off Before You Die

Reasons I Don't Review Romances

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Sat, 05 Jan 2013 01:59:00 +0000

Part I

In case you didn't read the reviews before you went the theater, here's a cheat sheet:

If you're watching a film about a man trying to decide between women, odds are pretty goods it's billed as Serious Drama and will be applauded for its "insight into life and love."

If you're watching a film about a woman trying to decide between men, odds are pretty good it's billed as romantic comedy and it won't win any awards.

Part II

A woman is courted by two men.

This is how is plays out in the movies:

90.0% - One turns out to be a total jerk and the other is Mr. Right. The choice is easy and destined to work out.

9.0% - It's a tough choice but one of the men nobly bows out or dies, or they both do, or the woman does, usually by suicide or she ends up with some unexpected third guy.

0.9% - It's a tough choice. She chooses ones. The other is heartbroken but eventually gets over it.

0.1% - She chooses to remain single.

This is how it plays out in real life:

90.0% - It's a tough choice. She chooses ones. The other is heartbroken but eventually gets over it.

9.0% - She chooses to remain single.

0.9% - One turns out to be a total jerk and the other is Mr. Right. The choice is easy and destined to work out.

0.1% - It's a tough choice but one of the men nobly bows out or dies, or they both do, or the woman does, usually by suicide, or she ends up with some unexpected third guy.

Part III

In case you are watching a movie about romantic pursuit and have to leave before you catch the ending, here's what happened:

If you're watching a film about a guy under 16 pursuing a girl, he'll impress her in a sport, competition, disaster or alien invasion by succeeding, through hard work and a zany unconventional last-ditch-effort plan while gaining enough confidence to finally ask her out directly, but instead choose his loyal but Hollywood-plain best-friend since childhood.

If you're watching a film about a guy 16-30 pursuing a woman, he'll disguise himself and/or get close to her under false pretenses but when it all comes out she'll forgive him. Otherwise he'll end up with the cute (but not necessarily sexy) outcast who helped him with the ruse.

If you're watching a film about a guy over 30 pursuing a woman, she'll be younger than him and either re-invigorate his routine life with her refreshingly spunky sense of adventure and carefree charmingly-bipolar personality or she'll draw him into committing a crime, betray him and leave him to die.

If you're watching a film about a gal under 16 pursuing a boy, she'll disguise herself and/or get close to him under false pretenses but when it all comes out he'll forgive her. Otherwise she'll end up with the clean-cut (but just a little dorky) school outcast who helped her with the ruse.

If you're watching a film about a gal 16-30 pursuing a man, they'll be fiercely competitive school or career rivals despite their obvious chemistry until they unite against a common threat and instantly forgive all their past insults. Later they'll ignore the fact that their highly-driven, competitive natures mean that they'll probably go back to fighting when, post-adventure, they try to have a real relationship, but by then the movie will already be over so who cares, right?

If you're watching a film about a gal over 30 pursuing a man, then it's a movie no one has heard of because the studio didn't believe in it, pulled the marketing and dumped it on a few screens in March.

If you're watching a film about anyone pursuing anyone and it doesn't work out (gasp!) and someone ends up (double gasp!) single, then it is must have been either Melodrama and somebody died just when their perfect love had beaten all the odds or it was Art and the characters were talky intellectuals/artists with iffy ideas about fidelity and the lesson will be that emotional entanglements suck, but we can't live without them, enjoy the good times while they last and have a laugh at its absurdity now and then (but don't bother re-evaluating your life or, you know, being a self-centered jerk).

And if the film was about anyone pursuing anyone of the same gender (triple gasp!), then it was definitely Art, though it might still be Melodrama too. The ending was that society couldn't tolerate their forbidden love and at least one person got killed. We definitely won't get to see a complicated long-term sustainable homosexual relationship or find out that it looks a lot like a complicated long-term sustainable heterosexual relationship, but nobody wants to see a movie about complicated long-term sustainable relationships anyway so no big deal.

Titles That Lie

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Fri, 14 Dec 2012 23:53:00 +0000

A friend brought my attention to how Abbott and Costello never actually go to Mars in Abbott and Costello Go to Mars and I got to thinking about the way different movie titles lie or mislead. I asked my coworkers to throw in some suggestions. Here’s a list of some favorites:

Abbott and Costello Go to Mars – Except that they don’t. They go to Marti Gras and Venus.

The Greatest Story Ever Told – I’ve seen better. Frequently.

Troll 2 – Not only isn’t there an ‘original’ Troll movie, there aren’t even any trolls. The movie’s about goblins.

Curse of the Cat People – This “sequel” to Cat People has neither curses nor cat people. It’s actually a rather touching story about a child whose dead mother becomes her invisible friend.

Only Angels Have Wings – What about birds, bats, some insects, planes, pegasi, dragons, large estates, libraries, theaters, windmills, soccer teams, Paul McCartney and Hooters?

Armageddon – The title promises one thing, and then the movie deliberately doesn’t give it to you.

The Last Picture Show – This came out in 1971 and there’ve been bunches since.

White Men Can’t Jump – Patently untrue.

The Neverending Story – More accurately The 1 Hour 42 Minute Story. Hmmm… not as catchy.

Boys Don’t Cry – While it’s true that boys don’t have emotions, they often cry when chopping onions.

Mission Impossible – Unless they make a movie about Tom Cruise trying to divide by zero or something, it would be more honest to rename the franchise Mission Improbable.

They Won’t Believe Me – Spoiler: They do… only too late.

It’s a Wonderful Life – It’s kind of eh.

To Kill a Mocking Bird – The early screenings had a lot of disappointed hunters expecting a documentary.

A Thousand Clowns – Falls 999 clowns short.

I, Robot – Though the title comes from Isaac Asimov’s short story collection, the film is actually an adaptation of Jeff Vintar’s Hardwired (but considering that Hardwired takes place within a single room, it’s not very faithful to that either). The movie is about robots rebelling and killing, the exact opposite of what they do in Asimov’s works: serving and protecting.

Dead Man Walking – Not a zombie movie.

Serenity – One of the least apt spaceship names in science-fiction.

Back to the Future – Should really be Back to the Present and, besides, they travel to the past.

Can’t Hardly Wait – A movie about a bunch of high school graduates, none of whom are eagerly anticipating college. They’re either stuck in the past or living in the moment.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof – Sounds like it ought to be a great youtube video, but it’s actually about Elizabeth Taylor shrieking and Paul Newman sulking.

The Longest Day – Set on June 6^th, 1944 although the longest day in 1944 was actually June 21^st.

Fidelity – It’s more often about the opposite.

Eyes Without a Face – More a case of too many faces than too few.

Brazil – Not set there; not a single scene.

To Have and Have Not – “Adapted” from the novel by Ernest Hemingway if by adapted you mean has the same title and a few characters with matching names. The plot was shamelessly plucked from Casablanca.

Made in the USA – A French film.

The Movie Game 2.0

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Wed, 29 Aug 2012 01:03:00 +0000

Ever since I posted the movie game on this blog (see right-hand sidebar) I've been making small adjustments and adding new cards. Playing the movie game has become a staple of my lunch breaks at work. I kept meaning to add the 'full game', meaning a version that included actors and directors, but lack of time, will power and a clear plan held me back.

I finally decided to buckle down and get it done and I'm proud to say that the Movie Game 2.0 is now available. For those who haven't seen it, here's how it works:

You push the "Draw Cards" button and two things (genres, decades, sets, props, etc.) appear. You try to think of a movie that fits both. There are no especially right or wrong answers, no points and no way to 'win'. All you need to play is to have seen a few movies. You don't even need to know any names.

But if you do know the names of a lot of actors or directors you'll love this new update.

Here's what's new in version 2.0:

The regular deck now includes 700+ cards (500,000+ permutations!)
You can now play with names, over 1,300 of them! That's 2000+ total cards.
Game modes let you chose whether to include proper names or not.
Select the difficulty (rather subjective, but I've tried my hardest) of names as well as the number of names per card and the jobs (actor, director, crew) you want to allow to create your own personalize game style.
'Special' difficulty gives you nearly 300 themed sets of names.
Try playing with six-degrees of separation rules.

There will also be plenty of bugs and spelling errors no doubt. Bear with me. I hope to get it worked out and, of course, I'll be making periodic updates to add yet more cards.

My next big step will probably be to put together a mobile app version. I'm also thinking of expanding the game modes and putting together a backside database. I'd love to get pictures by the names, or links to imdb, or something to help people out when they don't recognize someone. Feel free to send me ideas.

Thanks to everyone who helped make 2.0 possible!

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow: The Poem

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Fri, 06 Jul 2012 23:51:00 +0000

I spent the day with Tiffany, Chloe, Cleo, Andre and Maud. I had a lovely time so I wrote a poem about it, in chronological order. Enjoy.

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow: The Poem

Yesterday Girl, Only Yesterday
Hour of the Wolf
Red Dawn Before Sunrise
Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans

Bed and Breakfast, Breakfast in Bed
Breakfast at Tiffany's
Good Morning, Morning Glory
Good Morning, Vietnam

11:14.

High Noon, Purple Noon.
Mysterious Object at Noon.
12 O'Clock High, 12:08 East of Bucharest
Seven Days to Noon

Chloe in the Afternoon, Love in the Afternoon
An Autumn Afternoon
Seance on a Wet Afternoon, Meshes of the Afternoon
Dog Day Afternoon

3:10 to Yuma.
9 to 5
Cleo from 5 to 7
Dinner at Eight

The Dinner Game:
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
My Dinner with Andre,
The Man Who Came to Dinner.

Starting Out in the Evening
August Evening, Evening Dress.
Before Sunset, Sunset Blvd.,
The Long Day Closes.
Twilight, Tokyo Twilight,
Twilight's Last Gleaming.

Lights
in
the
Dusk

My Night at Maud's,
A Night to Remember:

Night at the Crossroads
Night at the Opera
Opening Night

Night and Fog
Night and the City
Nightmare on Elm Street

Night of the Demon
Night of the Hunter
Night of the Living Dead

Night Terrors
Night Moves
Saturday Night Fever

Wait Until Dark
Fears of the Dark
All the Colors of the Dark

Alone in the Dark
A Shot in the Dark
A Cry in the Dark

9:06

Moonrise Kingdom, After Hours.
10:30 P.M. Summer.

Round Midnight
Midnight
After Midnight

Midnight Express, Midnight Run
The Witching Hour
Chimes at Midnight, Song at Midnight
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

12:01

All Night Long
From Dusk till Dawn
Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

Make Way for Tomorrow
There's Always Tomorrow
Tomorrow Never Dies

Tomorrow
I Will Wake Up
and Scald Myself with Tea...

Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye
&
The Day After Tomorrow
&
The Night of the Following Day

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 10

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Sun, 13 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Trouble Every Day – The always-surprising Claire Denis brings us a revisionist vampire film that restores to the over-exposed monster its ability to horrify and disturb. Almost devoid of dialogue, the story unfolds elliptically through shocking imagery, precision editing and a throbbing soundtrack that crawls under the skin and gets inside the mind in a way that few horror films ever do. A movie this dense, implacable, blood-soaked and transgressive was bound to alienate mainstream audiences and critics alike. It only solidified my respect for the director’s intellectual and artistic rigor.

Unforgettable – Unforgettable, to most minds, is a quite the opposite. It has garbage airport potboiler script with a spin, that's really kind of a dumb. Ray Liotta is a medical examiner determined to find his wife’s killer. His primary edge is a serum that lets you experience another person’s memories, provided by obligatory hot scientist Linda Fiorentino. The movie would doubtlessly be miserably bad if not for John Dahl, a talented director who keeps below radar and turns out consistently above-average modern noirs. This is his only flirtation with sci-fi and, despite being one of his weakest films, still kept me engaged, but it tanked at the box office. Dahl’s filmography reads like marathon of better-than-they-had-to-be thrillers most of which I’d defend, including Red Rock West, You Kill Me, The Last Seduction, Joy Ride and Rounders.

The Village – Reviews of this film stank when it came out, and it’s now frequently referred to as the starting point of writer-director M. Night Shyamalan’s precipitous decline. Critics and audiences were especially dismissive of the film’s rather obvious twist (after The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, everyone knew to look out for it) and the plotholes revealed therein, but I remember seeing this in theaters with my dad and thinking it was not only quite good, but a lot smarter than its given credit for being. The thematic investigations of fear, control and isolation are compelling to me, the mystery-thriller aspects really rather thrilling and the visual motifs well-handled. I don’t know if it would hold up to a second viewing, but I'm one of the few people who sound like they'd even look forward to a second viewing.

Vampires in Havana – In this animated Cuban movie that mixes vampires, music and politics, Joseph, a womanizing trombonist, gets caught in the middle of a vampire gang war centered on a sunlight immunity serum invented by his uncle. The potion would threaten the indoor beach resorts and blood-based speakeasies of the American cabal while the European gangsters plan to market it as a wonderdrug. The animation lacks a sense of place, character or artistry, but the story doesn't lack for energy and ideas.

Wanted – A secret society of assassins uses weaving errors in a mysterious ‘loom of fate’ to identify targets. As the movie begin, they send one of their top agents (Angelina Jolie) to recruit a regular office loser (James McAvoy) and teach him how to curve bullets by flicking a gun with superhuman speed. Soon he's on a mission to avenge his father. Cue explosions. Twist plot. Introduce exploding mice. This is how to make a stupid action movie and make it well (but still stupid). I came into this thinking that the film would be so ludicrous it had to be terrible, but Russian director Timur Bekmambetov keeps going one step further, rapidly leaving behind our conventional notions of the ludicrous, and entering into a dimension of pure entertainment where blazing action, the rule of cool, self-parody and idiocy magically coexist.

Wayward Cloud – Arguably the best musical about sex and watermelons, Wayward Clouds is Taiwanese director Tsai Ming-Liang’s worst reviewed film. I think it’s his best. Ming-Liang, one of the luminaries of ‘slow cinema’ previously experimented with including lip-synced Chinese pop ballads in his impressive low-key sci-fi film The Hole, but Wayward Cloud takes things to new heights with music numbers that include synchronized umbrellas and genitalia costumes. The story, a pessimistic meditation on the impossibility of romance in a porn-saturated culture, takes place during a drought that forces Taipei to depend on watermelons for hydration.

Wild Things – There’s no question that Wild Things owes its popularity to its canny use of its cast’s assets, most famously on display (unless you are watching the TV-friendly cut) during a threesome between Matt Dillon, Denise Richards and Neve Campbell. But this film would be nothing but empty late-night cable fodder if it weren’t for the surprisingly sharp script, which lets everyone involved really relish their bad behavior and then trots out a seemingly endless supply of twists (most of which work). The slick polish that only a Hollywood budget can provide also meant that some poor art director actually bothered to make the steamy noirish atmosphere and swampy bayou setting needlessly compelling. Sure, it’s the embodiment of guilty pleasure viewing, an unabashedly sexy thriller with no deeper message or higher truth in mind, but it’s better than it should have been.

The World's Greatest Sinner – Though it has been years since I saw this on a late-night TCM airing, Sinner has stayed with me ever since. This independent 1962 cult film follows a regular Joe (actor-director Timothy Carey) during his evolution from insurance salesman, to rock star, to political figure, to cult leader and finally, and most disastrously, to godhood. He spends a lot of the film seducing, and I do mean seducing, old women out of their life savings. Carey, though it seems unlikely, is bizarrely watchable.

Yes – I consider this one of the most wrongfully hated art house masterpieces ever made, with critics almost tripping over each other to spit on it (a 29% average score on Metacritic with the only perfect rating coming from Roger Ebert). Joan Allen, Simon Abkarian and Sam Neill turn in brave top-notch performances with Allen playing a wealthy married microbiologist in love with Abkarian, a Muslim chef. The story is arguably rote, but it's carried to rapturous heights by director Sally Potter’s innovative camerawork full of delicate shallow focus movements, carefully captured details and a claustrophobic materialism. Most controversial of all, however, was her rhyming iambic pentameter script, which I felt was magnificent and perfectly wedded to the story and style but was ruthlessly torn to shreds in reviews, seemingly less for its actual quality than for the hubris of reviving unfashionable poetry in the new millennium.

You Are a Widow, Sir! – A Czech military satire sci-fi body-swap comedy with roots in the fast-paced anything-goes zaniness of the Marx Brothers. The army plots to assassinate the president after he disbands them for gross incompetence (they accidentally cut off his hand during a ceremony) and it’s up to a bumbling love-sick astrologer to foil their plans, which involve brain transplants, bombs and veal. Too convoluted to explain, it nevertheless makes internal sense upon viewing. Not only do I find this a truly funny little gem, I admire how the director leaps headlong into new complications and then, like an escape artist, digs himself out. I’m also a bit obsessed with Czech model/actress Olga Schoberova (I’ve tracked down some real crap just because she's in it) who earlier appeared in director Vaclav Vorlicek’s best work: Who Wants to Kill Jesse? Thankfully Jesse is slowly getting the critical attention it deserves, which is why I felt it was better left off the list.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 9

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Sat, 12 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Southland Tales – In the wake of indie hit Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly had pretty much a blank check for his next project. He threw together a mismatched celebrity lineup that included Dwayne ’The Rock’ Johnson, Sean William Scott, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Mandy Moore, Justin Timberlake and half the cast of SNL. And what does he do with them? He makes a sprawling schizophrenic sci-fi satire with music numbers, commercials, news breaks and half a dozen plots. It’s a loud, cartoonish, self-important work where it’s tough to tell who’s in on the joke or what the joke is or why anyone thought the joke was funny. Still, there's sparks of inspiration glimmering in its cavernous depths and I must confess a certain fondness for it. This is glorious train-wreck spectacle, a chance to see famous people embarrass themselves and a large pile of money wasted in the name of something actually interesting and different. Critics, with the exception of J. Hoberman, hated the film and it made back less than 3% of its budget.

Starcrash – I’m a huge fan of Luigi Cozzi (The KillerMust Kill Again, Hercules), one of the cinematic history’s most unabashed hacks, whose name is celebrated only within the inner circle of Italian trash-movie lovers. Starcrash blatantly rides in on the coattails of Star Wars, but throws in everything from robotic cowboys to Amazonian warrior-women. When an evil lava lamp threatens the universe it’s up to intergalactic smuggler Stella Star (genre favorite Caroline Munro) and jedi prince Simon (David Hasselhoff) to fight back. Expect horrendous dialog, plenty of space bikinis and a poor understanding of science. Music by John Barry. This is like fine wine for connoisseurs of sci-fi cheese.

The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh – This was the first giallo I saw with Edwige Fenech, and I was immediately smitten. She plays a recently married woman with a dark past and a secret vice that both repels and attracts her. Her personal crisis is played out against the backdrop of a serial killer plaguing Italy and, of course, the two plots will be connected, but not without a rapid-fire series of last-minute twists and reversals. Fenech is the reason to see this film, but reliable director Sergio Martino is what keeps things moving, elevating the mediocre material with wonderfully stylish cinematography and a total indulgence in the 1970’s excesses of fashion, design, sex and violence.

Suture – Rich, WASP criminal Vincent is wanted for murder, so he fakes his death by planting a bomb in his own car and setting it off while his ‘look-alike’ good-guy brother Clay, an out-of-towner whose existence no one suspects, is driving. Clay survives, but loses his memories. Everyone, including Clay, believes he’s Vincent. Cliché? Well, what makes the film unusual is that Vincent is white and lanky. Clay (Dennis Haysbert of ‘24’ fame) is black and built. No one could possibly confuse the two. And yet, it's hard to say exactly what message about race or class is actually being made. The film is shot in crisp black-and-white amid stark modernist L.A. locales and is modeled, nobly, after the look of Seconds and The Face of Another (two even better, but somewhat more acknowledged, favorites).

Switchblade Sisters – Jack Hill, the exploitation maestro behind everything from Spider Baby to The Big Doll House to Foxy Brown, turned his ‘talents’ to the youth gang genre with interesting results. Adapting loosely from Othello, Switchblade Sisters follows the rise of Maggie within the all-girl gang The Dagger Debs (later The Jezebels) amid a rising tide of treachery and violence. To Hill’s credit, I think the film works better as radical feminist storytelling than as sleazy erotic exploitation, but it isn’t always easy to decide.

Tarkan vs. the Vikings – My favorite Turkish exploitation film, this cheesy epic of Viking intrigue and warfare concerns itself very little with history, but takes plenty of interest in important things like war hawks, bellydancing, sword fetishism, killer octopi, trampoline torture (yeah, it’s what you’re thinking) and women warriors clad in plushy pink miniskirts. If you can think of something for which the word ‘gratuitous’ could be applied, then it can be found in Tarkan vs. the Vikings. The music is stolen wholesale from Hollywood films, particularly Indiana Jones. Mondo Macabro, the company that plucked this from cinematic purgatory and got it onto DVD, made an important contribution to world culture. Irresistible!

The Thirteenth Floor – Douglas Hall finds himself investigating the murder of a scientist who was working on a virtual reality world as rich and detailed as our own. His search for answers leads him into the simulation where he meets a man dangerously aware that his world is fake. Hall gradually comes to realize that a great deal is at stake. The fertile plot doesn’t always hold together, but it’s the type of thought-provoking stuff I love. It was adapted previously by Rainer Werner Fassbinder as the miniseries World on a Wire, recently released on DVD to wide acclaim (but it is so damn lifeless!). This version, disparaged by the critical establishment, had a huge influence on the genre. Sadly, it was overshadowed by a certain other noirish 1999 virtual reality sci-fi thriller. Though the acting is not, admittedly, very good, I like the supporting cast of Dennis Haybert, Gretchen Mol and Vincent D’Onofrio.

Tideland – Terry Gilliam was the first director who I recognized as a favorite when I was growing up, but I’d long since written him off as past his prime when he returned with Tideland, his most macabre and unsettling film. It follows Jeliza-Rose, a girl who wanders about the untilled Texan grasslands outside a farmhouse where her parents, dead of drug overdoses, are slowly decomposing. Her only friends are a collection of severed Barbie doll heads and a mentally challenged neighbor boy who heralds destruction. Critical reaction was overwhelming negative, but I think this is Gilliam at his best: a pioneering and playful visionary unafraid to enter into the frightened, and frightening, imagination of an unstable child.

The Tingler – This is Vincent Price in top form, playing a scientist who discovers why we scream when scared (spoiler alert): it’s because fear makes an interdimensional millipede grow on our spines and only screaming can kill it! Sufficiently frightening a mute person causes the monster, call The Tingler, to grow unchecked, burst forth and rampage through a movie theater (in fact, in a delightful twist, the very movie theater you happen to be watching the film in). Gimmick-king William Castle directs, delivering laughable camp and, more surprisingly, a couple decent scares including an impressive use of color in this black-and-white film.

Tomorrow I Will Wake Up and Scald Myself with Tea – The excellent title refers to an oft-revisited morning scene in this Czech time-travel comedy. Identical twin brothers involved with a time-travel tourism company get enmeshed in a convoluted neo-Nazi plot to win WWII for the Germans. This is another example of the Czech sensibility for soft science fiction, delirious humor and really careful structuring (I just love the way it all comes together at the end!). The writing works awfully hard, but the film could’ve benefitted from better production values.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 8

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Fri, 11 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Phase IV – Saul Bass is best known for designing credit sequences (Psycho, Anatomy of Murder, Walk on the Wild Side.) and corporate logos (AT&T, Quaker Oats, Girls Scouts of America), but he also directed a single film, Phase IV, an overlooked sci-fi thriller about ants inheriting the Earth. The film is focused and dispassionate, even giving equal screen-time to the ants (shot with exquisite macro-photography in scenes not lacking in tension or emotion and emphasizing the advantages of collective action) as to the small band of humans trying to hold off the swarming menace. Bass’s formidable eye for striking imagery and his approach to evolution as a double-edged sword are just two excellent reasons to see this film.

Phenomena - Jennifer Connelly (in her first starring role) plays a newly arrived schoolgirl who ends up investigating a murder mystery by telepathically communicating with insects. Donald Pleasance plays a wheelchair-bound entomologist who helps her, along with his lab assistant, a chimpanzee. With just those elements I'd have been happy, but this ends up being one of giallo master Dario Argento's best scripts with a full three ending twists, all awesome, that unfold one after another (and I didn't even figure out the full backstory, never spelled out for the audience, until the second viewing). Plus the Euro prog, goth and metal soundtrack, featuring Goblin, Bill Wyman, Iron Maiden, Motorhead and Andi Sexgang, rocks.

Princess Raccoon – Japanese director Seijun Suzuki made a long string of subversive yakuza films in the 1960’s under studio constraints and starting from lousy derivative scripts. Often overlooked upon their initial release, many of these (like Tokyo Drifter and Branded to Kill) are now hailed, and rightly so, as masterpieces. As a lesser known alternative, I almost chose Gate of Flesh, about a vicious prostitute clique torn apart by their own lust and jealousy. However Princess Raccoon, made about four decades after his heyday, is even better, and even further from mainstream acceptance. This historical fantasy musical is a candy-colored series of startling-composed highly-artificial tableaus featuring Zhang Ziyi and Joe Odagiri in truly outrageous sets, often complimented by (intentionally?) dreadful CG.

The Quick and the Dead – Over the years I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I don’t really like Sam Raimi or the majority of his films. Not a popular opinion in cult film circles. So while I’m being unpopular anyway I’ll add that his box office bomb The Quick and the Dead may be my favorite. It’s basically a movie-length barrage of gunslinger duels, a genre-savvy acknowledgement that these are the reason we sit through many a B-western, established as a single-elimination shootout tournament hosted by Gene Hackman. Hackman just remixes his role from Unforgiven, but he’s so friggin’ ruthless you can’t help love him, especially in the midst of the all-star miscast that includes Sharon Stone, Russell Crowe, Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Boone Jr. and Gary Sinise. Raimi’s over-the-top, broad-stroke style is put to good use on the high-concept premise.

The Rapture – It’s starts out like a sleazy TV-movie about swingers and I almost turned it off. Then the protagonist has a spiritual awakening and becomes a born-again Christian and, again, I almost turned it off. I’m glad I stuck with it, though, as it goes into ever more unpredictable territory, eventually culminating in one my favorite movie endings of all time. It is profound material, the type of thing almost nobody wants to hear, and handled with intelligence, maturity and courage by a director who is neither a towering genius nor a great visual artist. That somehow lends it a very human sincerity which bridges the unnatural delivery and eerie disconnected atmosphere (which I think, though I can’t prove it, are stylistic choices al la David Lynch). Mimi Rogers performance in the lead is full of conviction, rarely tapped in her other roles.

Razorback – “900 pounds of marauding tusk and muscle” is the tagline of this ozploitation horror film which was meant as a parody of Jaws, but transferred to the Australian outback and replacing the shark with a razorback warthog. Highlander director Russell Mulcahy, god bless him, tries hard to make this a gripping thriller in all the visual glory of an 80’s music video, and, at its best, I think he succeeds. Plus there’s a great final showdown in an illegal dingo-dicing pet food factory.

Red Garters – There are plenty (I’d even say too many) musical comedy parodies of westerns, but few are as fun as the underrated Red Garters and almost none stand up as quality films in their own right. Red Garters may be sewn together from fluff and clichés and glossed over with knowing winks, but it’s still fast and lean and sharp. What makes this a favorite for me is the minimalist set design, with its bare suggestions of real objects and eye-searing hyper-saturated color schemes. Two other contenders for this list, camp-classic Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Czech ‘Eastern Western’ Lemonade Joe, are in a similar vein and are worth checking out for anyone who doesn’t take the mythologized Old West particularly seriously.

Return to Oz – This sequel to The Wizard of Oz took the bright and colorful musical and turned it into a nightmarish horror-fantasy far too dark for kids and families. Result: few people have even heard of it. Though it gave me sleepless nights as a child, I consider it more powerful, imaginative and atmospheric than the original. Dorothy, haunted by her memories of Oz, is sent to a terrifying mental clinic to receive shock treatment. She escapes during a storm and finds herself back in Oz where the Emerald city now lies in ruins and the kingdom is under the sway of Mombi, a witch with interchangeable heads, and the Nome King, an evil mountain. She teams up with Jack Pumpkinhead, Tik-Tok, a moose- couch and her talking chicken to restore order. Weird and horrifying, but inventive. And a part of my childhood I couldn't possibly part with.

Schizopolis –Director Steven Soderbergh (who went on to mainstream success with Erin Brockovich, Traffic and Ocean’s Eleven) attempted to cope with an early-career creative/professional/personal meltdown by making a stripped-down anarchist comedy with essentially no target audience. Playing like an uncensored brain-scan or dream collage, Schizopolis follows a discontent office worker (Soderbergh) speechwriting for the founder of Eventualism, a fictional school of New Age BS, and his wife (played by Soderbergh’s real-life ex-wife) who begins an affair with a dentist (Soderberg again) who becomes, in turn, fixated by ‘Attractive Woman #2’ (Soderbergh’s ex, again). Many other subplots are involved. In addition to starring and directing, Soderbergh also wrote, edited, composed and shot the film. Amid the chaos and self-indulgence is a fairly radical yet tongue-in-cheek deconstruction of relationships, language and filmmaking itself. Disliked by critics and ignored by audiences, Criterion believed in the picture enough to give it a fantastic DVD release. It remains amongst their worst-selling titles. My second favorite Soderberg film is probably his remake of Solaris, which was almost as poorly reviewed and such a dud with audiences that it was jerked from theaters within two weeks.

The Shout - “Greater than the frightening power of exorcism. More mystifying than any omen of reincarnation. The soul-shattering experience of... the SHOUT.” That’s from the actual trailer, folks. The Shout is based on a 1929 Robert Graves short story about a man whose wife’s soul is controlled by a charismatic, fearsome shaman, wielder of the all-powerful ‘terror shout’, capable of killing all who hear. Creepy and outlandish, this is a horror film for those who like creeping psychological tension. A-list cast includes John Hurt, Alan Bates, Tim Curry and Susannah York. Underrated Pole Jerzy Skolimowski directs.

Six-String Samurai – This is a post-apocalyptic martial arts film based on The Wizard of Oz and the aftermath of Elvis’s death. Our hero, a Buddy Holly lookalike armed with a guitar-katana, makes his way towards Lost Vegas after the death of The King leaves a vacancy in the political/musical upheaval of the Southwestern wasteland. Bowler assassins, cannibals, the Russian Red Army and the grim reaper (here symbolic of the rising popularity of heavy metal), among others threaten the protagonist’s ascendency to the throne. Rockabilly soundtrack provided by the Red Elvises. Friends sometimes accuse me of liking films just because they’re weird. Here’s a case in point.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 7

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Thu, 10 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Labyrinth – This is a movie I’ve been watching fondly since childhood, an early Jennifer Connelly vehicle which finds her navigating the titular trap-filled maze to rescue her brother from the goblin king (played by a magnetic glam-era David Bowie). The extensive use of sophisticated puppetry was provided by director Jim Henson’s workshop. Despite lousy reviews and ticket sales, the film quietly tightened its grip on my generation, emerging today as a recognized modern-day fairytale. The acting is a bit shaky, the plot is disjointedly episodic and one of the musical numbers is so bad I have to fast-forward through it, but my love for this movie is not mere nostalgia; there’s plenty of creativity, vision and heart here. Along with Phenomena, also on this list, this was one of Connelly's first starring roles and she's continued to be a favorite actresses over the years despite some odious missteps.

Lady Terminator – An Indonesian knock-off of Terminator, but with the buff cyborg from the future replaced by a busty witch from the past. She’s the Queen of the South Seas and, oh yeah, she’s got a deadly eel in her vagina. Lots of nudity and shooting. Laser eyes. Etc. Terrible film. Great fun.

The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra – Parody films are usually good at skewering their targets, but too often fail to stand on their own two feet. Lost Skeleton, however, is a refreshing exception, perhaps because of its genuine affection for the cheesy sci-fi B-movies of the 1950’s. It manages to get me to care about the characters and, rarer still, care about the low-rent minimally-talented actors who thanklessly portrayed them. Dr. Armstrong, a scientist, and his wife Betty are looking for an asteroid made of atmosphereum, a grail sought by two crashlanded aliens, who need it as fuel, and the evil Dr. Fleming, who plans to reanimate a telekinetic skeleton. The alien’s rampaging pet mutant and Animala, a sexy composite of forest animals controlled by Fleming, round out the mix. The intentionally execrable script and acting are note-perfect, reminding one that it takes great skill to find the humor and humanity in mediocrity.

Master of the Flying Guillotine – After they finish reading the title most people will have already decided whether they want to see this film or not. Those who do will not be disappointed. It’s basically a series of tournament style showdowns between a one-armed boxer and the imperial assassins sent to kill him, featuring plenty of creative weapons, destructible sets and fight scenes that fill the time often squandered by other films on plot, character development and themes.

Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People – Japanese director Ishiro Honda has a reputation as the king of giant monster movies, a reliable source of men in rubber suits ravaging Tokyo with gusto. Best known for his Godzilla series, I find myself gravitating towards Honda’s odder anomalies (Frankenstein Conquers the World, Mothra), especially this eldritch adaptation of William Hope Hodgson (one of the forgotten giants and early founders of cosmic horror), modernized into a metaphor for atomic-era fear and despair. My childhood fears of fungi and skin disease (which linger to this day) probably influence how effective I find this movie despite its obvious cheesiness.

Mr. Freedom – A wild, scattershot 1969 satire of American ideological imperialism, Mr. Freedom is now more relevant than ever in our era of expanded cultural hegemony literally symbolized by America's endless superficial superhero movies. The title character wears an American flag themed football uniform and, on a mission to protect France from communism, must battle with threats that include Muzhik Man (notable for his outrageous Russian accent) and Red China Man (a giant inflatable dragon that fills an entire subway). It may be hyperbolic, loud and one-sided, but it’s also audacious, funny and smarter than it lets on. I'm a big fan of Delphine Seyrig and Donald Pleasence, who make good use of second-rate parts.

Mr. Vampire – Probably the best of the ‘hopping vampire’ subgenre, a popular Hong Kong convention in which the undead, cramped by rigor mortis, must hop stiffly towards their intended victims. A group of bumbling Taoist monks attempt to seal off an evil vampire and deal with a seductive ghost in this martial arts horror comedy that was a big hit in Asia, but left Western audiences befuddled. The bad special effects should clash with the quality choreography, but it all fits together seamlessly thanks in part to the whiplash pacing that doesn’t give you time to think, which you probably shouldn't be doing anyway in a movie like this. A close runner up, perhaps a little too successful to meet my criteria, is A Chinese Ghost Story and its several sequels.

Myra Breckinridge – “Myra Breckinridge is about as funny as a child molester. It is an insult to intelligence, an affront to sensibility and an abomination to the eye.” So ran Time magazine’s review of this notorious Gore Vidal adaptation, who, like everyone else, disowned the film. Rex Reed plays Myron, a man who gets a sex change and heads to Hollywood under the name Myra (and now played by Raquel Welch) where she teaches aspiring actors about classic films and female dominance. The self-consciously outrageous bluster is punctuated by inserts from old movies, often for humorous effect. It’s all so random and faux-subversive, but it’s unbridled, unhinged and unprofitable; everything Hollywood tries scrupulously to avoid. Right up my alley, though.

On the Comet – This is one of Czech stop-motion animator Karel Zeman’s least focused works, adapting from one of Jules Verne’s most minor novels. It functions primarily as a collage of Zeman’s boyish fascinations: interplanetary travel, dinosaurs, dirigibles, war, castles, cavalry, idealized love, etc. I think there were even pirates. Story and character development are almost non-existent, but if you can tolerate (or in my case enjoy) 75 minutes spent inside the head of a daydreaming 8-year-old, you’ll be fine. Just don’t try to make sense of it. Zeman’s Baron Prasil is his masterpiece, but within the animation community that’s already well-established so I disqualified it from the list.

Paranoiac – Paranoiac is one of those gothic horror films where a twisted family and their associates vie for the upperhand in a decaying mansion and generally resort to all sorts of dishonesty and crime. Oliver Reed steals the show as Simon, a drunken, scheming lout whose main rival is Tony, his brother, long thought dead and suddenly back. Eleanor, the innocent and naïve sister, is caught in the middle of their inheritance struggle. Of course a serial killer is also at large and 90% of the characters, including the likable ones, may be insane. Underground director Freddie Francis does a great job amping up the tension and twists, gleefully ignoring realism. His day job was serving as cinematographer on A-list pictures (he even won a couple Oscars) and his trademark pristine deep-focus black-and-white work is on display here.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 6

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Wed, 09 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Happy Accidents – More or less an insignificant blip on cinema’s radar, Happy Accidents is a disposable feel-good romantic comedy (exactly the type of thing I normally ignore or, if pushed, hate) with a whimsical touch. Ruby falls in love with Sam, who’s a bit quirky but otherwise a real nice guy, except that he has this hard-to-swallow secret life as a time-traveler from the future. I’m probably heavily biased by my soft spot for leads Vincent D’Onofrio and Marisa Tomei (and even a bit for 2^nd-tier genre helmer Brad Anderson), not to mention my obsession with time-travel movies, but I was really charmed. Think of it as K-PAX meets Kate & Leopold. Actually, don't think of it as that. That sounds like crap.

Heart of Glass – This dreary Bavarian arthouse folktale follows a small village as it succumbs to apocalyptic madness and destruction after losing the secret of their famous ruby red glass. It may be helmed by Germany’s established national treasure Werner Herzog, but it remains amongst his least popular works, in part due to the uniformly dispassionate blankness of the cast, the result, purportedly, of his having hypnotized the entire cast. The turgid pacing, esoteric historical setting and cryptic epilogue didn’t help draw audiences either. I find that the total lack of affect in the performances perfectly complements the unforgivingly doom-laden mood.

High Strung – This forgotten low-budget black comedy consists almost entirely of an angry man who never leaves his apartment (writer Steve Oedekerk) ranting about all the minor annoyances in his life and revealing an array of paranoid phobias. He frequently concludes monologues by shouting “I’d rather be dead,” resulting in Death (pre-famous Jim Carrey) actually showing up to call his bluff. This is a shrill, unambitious and craftless film by the creative talent that went on to make such dubious hits as Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, Patch Adams and Kung Pow: Enter the Fist, but even as a child I related to the curmudgeonly recluse. And also, it makes me laugh.

Hollow Triumph – Dr. Bartok is a psychologist with a theory that mankind intentionally ignores all details that don’t directly pertain to themselves out of lazy selfishness and convenience. An escaped convict, who looks exactly like Bartok except for a large facial scar, kills the doctor and impersonates him both professionally and romantically. But his own scar, self-inflicted, is based on a photo negative of the real psychologist and ends up on the wrong side. Will anyone notice or, irony of ironies, will Bartok’s theory hold true? Deliciously contrived 1940’s film noir whose ending twist adds yet more dark irony. Joan Bennet (who I think was more talented and prettier than she’s given credit for today) plays Bartok’s secretary. John Alton provides the shadowy cinematography.

Holy Blood – Mexican director Alejandro Jodorowsky’s penchant for spectacularly deranged visuals, anti-everything politics and dense allegorical tales color his works as eminently uncommercial and frequently opposed to the type of people and institutions that fund, market, distribute, view and buy movies. Holy Blood, shot in 1989, found a few champions amongst critics but alienated audiences, as usual, furthering his multi-decade financial freefall. The movie, a horror film about an ex-circus child whose armless mother exercises undue influence over his love life, doesn’t match the epic proportions, freestyle mysticism and mind-blowing imagery of his 1970’s output, but it showcases his most sincere and cohesive storytelling.

The Honeymoon Killers – Based on the true story of a pair of mismatched lovers, suave conman Ray Fernandez and disgruntled nurse Martha Beck, who swindled lonely women and frequently killed them, The Honeymoon Killers is the type of low-budget ripped-from-the-headlines exploitation that you know is going to be crude, uncomfortable and perfunctory. Only it’s not. Or at least, not in a bad way. Despite its failure at the box office, a growing circle came to appreciate its droll wit, spare cinematography and vividly drawn characters, especially Shirley Stoler as the unglamorous scene-shredding lead.

Hugo the Hippo – The Sultan of Zanzibar captures hippos to clear his spice harbor of sharks, but his people soon forget their debt and hunt the hippos to death until the plucky local children rally to save Hugo, the last remaining Hippo, from the sultan’s evil advisor and mad magician. 1973 Hungarian animated musical with naïve, but catchy, soundtrack provided by the Osmonds. Based on a true story. I love the loopy Yellow Submarine-esque visual style and still get the songs, unpolished as they are, stuck in my head to this day. Almost every scene is iconic, but the most essential involves Hugo being pursued through a magic nightmare vegetable garden come alive.

I Killed Einstein, Gentlemen – In the not so distant future terrorist bombs have caused women to grow facial hair, precipitating a national crisis. Shaving robots are unfeasible, meaning the only hope lies in travelling back in time to assassinate Einstein so that the physics underlying the fiendish technology never develops. This is Czech comedy at its wackiest and while a lot of the humor fails to live up to the originality of the premise, the structure is surprisingly tight and the ensemble cast scores points for chemistry and charm. Some of the ideas about time-travel wouldn't be recycled into American films for decades to come.

Keoma – Keoma is easily one of my favorite spaghetti westerns, but when asked by friends whether I love it sincerely or ironically, I can only answer “Both.” Director Enzo Castellari (a rising favorite for me) pulls no punches is his ruthless tale of a halfbreed Indian who exterminate his own family in a messianic vengeance quest. The go-for-broke attitude pervades every aspect of the film: Franco Nero’s steely-eyed werewolf-maned performance, Woody Strode as a magical black guitar-picking archery master, the operatic score (imitating an imagined duet between Leonard Cohen and Joan Baez) that functions as overly-literal Greek chorus, the slow-motion stunt-chocked action sequences and the heavy-handed religious parallels (including the wandering spirit of death, a plague ravaged Dante-esque mining pit, a crucifixion scene and a painful childbirth set during and crosscut with the climatic shootout). Castellari's previous films include Johnny Hamlet, a spaghetti western adaptation of Shakespeare.

The Killing Kind – Director Curtis Harrington is, today, written off as a hack when he’s even written about at all. There’s good reason for that, but within his oeuvre of limp horror films and failed experiments is this unexpectedly real and affecting study of a young serial killer played by John Savage (in his first starring role) whose relationship with his mother is uncomfortably intimate. Dark, lonely and sad, everything can be read in the nuances of Savage’s breakthrough performance.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 5

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Tue, 08 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Female Convict 701: Scorpion – Probably the best women-in-prison movie I’ve seen, this Japanese revenge thriller doesn’t actually need all the nudity to keep viewers interested (but don’t worry, it’s there, in spades). Every genre convention you might expect is present (shower room brawl, prison riot, senseless interrogation, etc.), but it’s the craft (stylish camerawork, above-average acting and well-paced script) that holds it together. I’m not into bondage, torture or mass nudity (it’s too impersonal), but I can get behind a ferocious performance of an avenging angel kicking ass when it’s handled with such traditionally unnecessary, given the genre, passion and skill.

Fidelity – Fidelity is Polish madman Andrzej Zulawski’s adaptation of the 1678 French novel The Princess of Cleves. I’ve read it and I can say they have this in common: homo sapien main characters with the same names and relationships. This is an epic romance that is often unbearably highbrow and B-movie trashy in the space of a single scene. I think of it as the final and most sophisticated homage to Zulawski’s long-term girlfriend, the beautiful Sophie Marceau, and through all the muddled chaos of yellow journalism, organ trafficking, wild sex and bad poetry one senses that he’s trying to deliver some aching inarticulate message not just to her, at the twilight of their 17 year relationship, but to the audience as well. A popular and critical fiasco, it’s hard to convince people to track down and sit through the even rarer uncut 3+ hour version that makes slightly more narrative and thematic sense. Even I must admit it falls well short of Zulawski’s magnum opus, Possession, (which only failed to make this list because I refuse to admit that it might not be perfect), but I found this to be another of his feverishly passionate cries sent echoing into the universe’s void. Who doesn't like those?

Flash Gordon – Flash Gordon, “King of the Impossible,” must rescue fetching journalist Dale Arden and save the Earth from Emperor Ming the Merciless (Max von Sydow), who is raining down hot hail and sending the moon onto a collision course. His plan will unite perennial foes Hawkman (Brian Blessed) and space Robin Hood (Timothy Dalton), but not before they shout some pretty atrocious dialog at each other. The costume design and soundtrack by Queen would, alone, make this a favorite, but the film’s contagious sense of campy abandon puts it over the top, amply earning its eminent cult-circuit reputation.

Footprints on the Moon – Like Death Laid an Egg this is another one of those obscure giallo films that just doesn’t fit the mold. It has a sci-fi subplot, almost no murders and a cameo by the great German actor Klaus Kinski, plus a plot so abstruse and subtle that I had no idea what was going on during my first viewing. Alice, a woman haunted by eerie dreams from her childhood, visits a seaside resort she learns about from a postcard and begins investigating a woman who may be herself. The chilling ending is all the more effective for its otherworldliness. Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro (The Conformist, Apocalypse Now) provides the excellent visuals.

Four-Sided Triangle – I don’t consider myself a fan of Britain’s Hammer studio, which churned out largely formulaic and forgettable horror and sci-fi movies from the 50’s to the 70’s, but this underrated gem is one of my favorite B-movies. There is no monster, no alien, no violence and hardly any special effects. There is only a love triangle (two scientists, friends since boyhood, who fall in love with their beautiful assistant) and the troubling ethical implications of an invention, a duplicator, which may provide a way for the triangle to, shall we say, expand into square. Of course, technology only makes things worse. Tragically doomed actress Barbara Payton (who is not ashamed) provides the female lead and, for me, it’s not hard to imagine how she could break a heart. Efficient, resourceful and perhaps deeper than it realizes, this is exactly the type of film I think low-budget filmmakers should strive for. It’s few viewers, however, seem to brush it aside.

Freeway – A modernized adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood with Reese Witherspoon as a highly independent trailer tramp on her way to grandmother’s house and Kiefer Sutherlands as the highway-prowling serial killer wolf. The usual damsel-in-distress scenario is reversed after Witherspoon pumps a few bullets into her would-be predator, but the legal consequences land her in prison. Undaunted, she fashions a homemade shiv and busts out with a pair of new friends for a final bloody confrontation at grandmother’s. Hilariously no-holds-barred and flagrantly over the top, it’s a pleasure just to see Witherspoon’s spit and vinegar performance (she got so safe and bland later!) and Sutherland at his most unctuous. Even the critics admitted liking this, but it’s the type of film we’re not supposed to.

Full Contact – Full Contact is Hong Kong action courtesy of Ringo Lam, creator of such classy cinema as City on Fire, Prison on Fire and Maximum Risk. I don’t remember the plot, but it involves Chow Yun-fat punching, kicking, shooting, chasing, fleeing, driving and crashing. Often in slow-mo. The movie gave us ‘bullet time’ seven years before The Matrix, and did it from the bullet’s own POV. It also gave us one of the great final lines, tossed off at the flamboyantly gay villain as he dies: “Masturbate in hell.”

Glen or Glenda – Director Ed Wood’s most infamous film, the staggeringly incompetent “Plan Nine from Outer Space,” gets more attention, but Glen or Glenda is arguably even worse, which, of course, makes it even better. Bela Lugosi, via senselessly over-the-top narration, presents us with the story of Glen/Glenda’s cross-dressing and sex change. For a film that achieves so many inadvertent laughs, it’s also strangely touching, especially in light of Wood’s personal investment: a cross-dresser himself, he stars in the title role playing against his real-life girlfriend, who wasn’t yet fully aware of Wood’s proclivities.

God Told Me To – In New York City random people are violently running amok, with the only common thread being their dying insistence that “God told me to.” A Catholic detective investigates, increasingly terrified by the possible truth. A surprisingly aspirational B-movie slushy of police procedural, urban horror, religious allegory and science fiction. In my opinion this is schlock staple Larry Cohen’s one brush with greatness.

Grendel, Grendel, Grendel – An Australian animated children’s musical adaptation of the 11^th century English epic poem Beowulf, but told from the sympathetic point-of-view of the villain in the style of John Gardner’s experimental parallel novel. Peter Ustinov steals the show as the oddly genteel Beowulf, but sadly he doesn’t show up until the final act. The Schoolhouse Rock reminiscent limited animation, lukewarm tunes, uneven pacing and a lot of confusion as to whether a target audience for this concept even exists make the film, pretty much unavailable anyway, fabulously unpopular.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 4

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Mon, 07 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Death Laid an Egg – This giallo by the virtually unknown Giulio Questi is one of my favorite films in the genre. A twisted love triangle on a mechanized chicken farm, this is what a murder mystery melodrama might look like directed by Jean Luc-Godard. Jean-Louis Trintingnant stars. Beautiful women and cinematrography meet ugly revelations about murder and infidelity and even uglier boneless, limbless chick blobs. The story, acting, set design and themes are exactly what I look for in a rare horror gem, but the skeptics are unlikely to bother tracking this down in the back-alleys of the internet.

Death Race 2000 – Cyborg celebrity frontrunner Frankenstein (David Carradine) goes head-to-head against Machine-Gun Joe Viterbo (Sylvester Stallone), cowgirl Calamity Jane, neo-Nazi Mathilda the Hun and gladiator Nero the Hero in The Death Race, a dash across America where points are issued for running down civilians along the way (bonuses for women, children and old folk). Annie Paine, Frankenstein’s sexy new copilot/mechanic is secretly a spy for an underground resistance group, but finds herself falling in love with the enigmatic driver. One of the most perfect 1970’s exploitation films, Death Race 2000 has an inimitable blend of style, violence, camp and fan service. The casting, vehicle design and script are just right.

Death Walks at Midnight – It’s hard to make up my mind between this and its sister film Death Walks on High Heels so plan on a double feature. Susan Scott (who, next to Edwige Fenech, is probably the best actress in the giallo genre) plays a feisty scene-stealing model who ill-advisedly takes a hallucinogenic drug and ends up in some embarrassing photos. The odd thing is that the visions from her bad trip match up with a murder that took place next door six months in the past. Some great suspense sequences and no-one-believes-me tension build towards a fine denouement. Villains include a killer with a spiked gauntlet and a giggling knife-throwing hitman.

Deep Blue Sea – Unfairly bashed before the gates even opened just for not being Jaws, this is still one of the best shark thrillers that money can rent. Saffron Burrows plays the requisite conspicuously-hot scientist who genetically alters sharks to increase their brain mass (which no matter how you explain it, still sounds stupid) and then must team up with the combined badassery of Samuel L Jackson, Stellan Skarsgard and LL Cool J to escape the resulting monsters and her slowly sinking ocean research lab. The script isn’t Shakespeare, but it keeps things fast, tense and peppered with convention-defying surprises.

Demolition Man – A supercop (Stallone) and his nemesis (Snipes) are cryogenically unfrozen in a ‘utopian’ future where all crime, vices and awesomeness have been eradicated. They immediately head to a museum to load up on guns and bombs. Things blow up. Sandra Bullocks is there. Stallone teaches her how cussing and unhealthy stuff is great. Shameless, gauche and tons of fun.

The Devil-Doll – Tod Browning became a household name on the strength of Dracula and Freaks, two films that defined the horror genre in the early 1930’s. However, I prefer his less-beloved silent circus melodrama The Unknown, about an armless knife-thrower, and The Devil-Doll, about an escaped convict who uses a shrinking serum to wreck vengeance on the Parisian bankers who framed him. Lionel Barrymore is incredible as the criminal mastermind, performing most of the film in drag. Despite the sensational story, his relationship with his estranged daughter (Maureen O’Sullivan) provides a touching emotional core that few horror films ever achieve. The special effects were decades ahead of their time and still impress me today.

Doppelganger (2003) – One of Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s lesser known films, Doppelganger is about a scientist working on an artificial body. Exhausted from stress, administrative skepticism and creative stagnation, our lead is on the verge of suicide when he is visited by a mysterious doppelganger who isn’t burdened by the same moral scruples. Of course, this type of devil’s pact never ends well, but Kurosawa’s last act genre shift into slapstick comedy wasn’t the ending twist the critics wanted. Koji Yakusho is, as usual, excellent in the lead role. Part of my love for this film comes from its moody, formalist use of triple split-screen (I’m a big fan of unconventional editing). Kurosawa’s little-loved existential eco-thriller Charisma could just have easily made the list, but I’ve written about it before.

Dr. Jekyll and His Women – Director Walerian Borowczyk was a Polish surrealist animator turned art-house novelty pornographer. His rarely seen (and even more rarely liked) adult-film adaptation of Jekyll and Hyde stars Udo Kier as a doctor stifled by the trappings of civilization and hesitant about his impending marriage to a loving society ingénue. His transformation into a sex crazed monster who kills with his… member, gives vent to his primal needs. Arguably a failure as art or porn, it still succeeds as a bracing, unique and profoundly disturbing horror film.

The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On – A brilliant and still criminally unsung Japanese documentary about Kenzo Okuzaki’s investigation into mysterious deaths in the wake of the WWII New Guinea campaign. Though the truth is revealed to be devastatingly macabre, the sensational subject matter is gradually eclipsed by Okuzaki himself, a man clearly driven mad by righteous hatred. Utterly devoid of objectivity, restraint or fear, he is willing to beat the truth out of his interviewees (including his former military superiors) ultimately going so far that he loses the support of the victim’s families and, perhaps, the sympathy of the audience. Okuzaki eventually finds the man he hold responsible and, off-screen, guns down his son. The final title card tells us that Okuzaki has been sentenced to 12 years in prison.

Enemy at the Gates – At a certain age in every American boy’s life he plays a videogame that lets him snipe and he believes he’s found his calling in life. I was about that age when Enemy at the Gates came out and it reinforced my conviction that snipers were cooler than astronauts. Jude Law and Ed Harris stalk each other through rifle scopes. Rachel Weisz is pretty. Bob Hoskins is Russian (whaaat?). And of course Ron Perlman shows up, as he does for every movie like this.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Sun, 06 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Clifford – Critically mauled Martin Short vehicle in which he plays both an elderly priest and a 10-year-old boy (in a movie-length flashback which never loses its half-intended quasi-surrealism considering Short was well into his forties at the time) chronically obsessed with visiting the Dinosaur World theme park. Clifford’s uncle gets saddled with the problem child, who engages in woefully unfunny pranks like planting bombs. Similar to ‘What About Bob?’ in that it’s obnoxious and yet, at times, mesmerizing. God, it’s terrible. I’m not sure I can or even should defend it.

Con Air – Nicolas Cage, John Cusack, Malkovich and Buscemi star in this overblown action film about a hijacked prison plane. I’m not a fan of producer Jerry Bruckheimer in general, but Con Air’s non-stop nonsense is so resourceful, lightning-paced and special-effect-laden that one forgets its total nonsense. Or one doesn’t care. The film tends to lose several stars if not seen while eating buttery popcorn.

The Crawling Eye – Also called The Trollenberg Terror, this is a vintage 1950’s black-and-white sci-fi B-movie about an alien invasion. The aliens, mind-controlling giant eyeballs with tentacles that hide in radioactive mountain-top clouds, are amongst my favorite monster designs of the period (up there with Fiend Without a Face). The film is somewhat schematic and plodding during the lulls, but the best parts are thrilling and the worst parts are funny.

Cruel Intentions – Filmmakers just love adapting Dangerous Liaisons, but since its 1782 inception it has too often been treated as high art period piece Literature and not as the salacious prurient-pleaser that it was in its day. Roger Vadim’s version comes close, but this 1999 modernization starring a cast of hot young stars (Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillippe, Reese Witherspoon, Selma Blair, Sean Patrick Thomas and Tara Reid) takes the cake for sheer shamelessness. Watching this film at 15 I was openly salivating over the meat puppets (Gellar as a brunette *swoon*) and completely into the killer soundtrack while being perfectly comfortable ignoring the clunky script, weak development and forgettable mise-en-scene (not that I knew what that was). I don’t have my age as an excuse anymore, but it’s still the Dangerous Liaisons version that I’m most likely to rewatch and, even if a bit ironically nowadays, to enjoy.

Cube – A bunch of people with nothing in common wake up in a large cube made up of many smaller cubical rooms, some of which are booby-trapped to kill them in all sorts of nasty ways. They try to figure out why they are there and how to get out. A great example of keeping viewers intrigued with only a single set, little acting talent and less money. The incoherent sequel Hypercube ran with the tagline “The first one had rules,” in an interesting case of producers trying to market a film by highlighting its greatest flaw.

Danger: Diabolik! – Diabolik is a sexy daredevil master-thief living in the height of 1960’s Italian kitsch. With his beautiful wife, he stages outrageous capers and makes fools of the government and criminal underworld alike. Even destroying the country’s tax infrastructure and stealing a multi-ton boxcar of gold hardly breaks his stride. Mario Bava’s film is light as a feather, but the heists are actually quite cleverly conceived and executed (I’m a sucker for a good heist). The humor, fashion and momentum win childish grins and clapping from me. On a more technical level, I like the way Bava uses bright colors and strong horizontals and verticals to break up the image in a way that harkens back to its comic book origins.

Dark Star – Astronaut hippies, unwanted by the space program, are given smart bombs and sent on an interminable semi-pointless mission to implode stars that might be inconvenient for future colonizers. One of the smart bombs develops sentience and begins to question the nature of its existence, forcing the hippies into a philosophical argument for their lives. Carpenter’s first film is a zero-budget student project that frequently transcends its visibly humble roots. Dan O’Bannon, later of Alien and Total Recall fame, wrote the script and helped with the endearingly low-fi special effects.

Day of the Dolphin – Do-gooder husband and wife scientists try to teach dolphins how to talk until terrorists force them (the dolphins) to bomb the president’s yacht instead. It sounds ridiculous, but everyone plays it straight and I was hooked. George C. Scott and his real-life wife starred. Prix Goncourt winner Robert Merle wrote it. Mike Nichols directed. I was apparently the only one who watched.

Deadly Circuit – Isabelle Adjani stars as a black widow killer hunted by The Eye (Michel Serrrault), a detective who has lost his daughter. In an odd twist, The Eye develops romantic/fatherly feelings for the murderer, whom he has never actually met, and begins to cover her tracks rather than pursue her arrest. When she falls in love with one of her prospective victim, relinquishing her life of crime, The Eye can’t take it and must act to restore their doomed trajectory. It is, perhaps, a throwaway thriller, but the unusual touches in the script by a young Jacque Audiard (later a fantastic director in his own right) and the cast (I can watch Adjani in anything and often times do) make this work for me.

Dear Wendy – Much-loathed critique of American gun fetishism by uneven Danish director Thomas Vinterberg. A group of misfit teens becomes a tightknit club of friends through a shared fixation on antique firearms and foppish wardrobes, but their idealistic code of honor is no match for simply human failings. Predictably, blood will flow. Over-stylized, misdirected, insincere, self-indulgent and hypocritical (given its own capitalization on violence), this is still a film that I feel has a timely story to tell, points worth mulling, a cast with chemistry and a presentation that catches the eye.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Sat, 05 May 2012 17:00:00 +0000

The Boxer's Omen – The first time I saw this Hong Kong oddity I couldn’t initially tell whether it was a boxing movie, revenge drama, gangster film, softcore crossover, spiritual odyssey, martial arts thriller, horror movie, stop-motion cartoon or black comedy. It’s a bit of each, and all of that in just the first 30 minutes, eventually ‘settling into the conventions’ of the obscure HK micro-genre of Buddhist monk vs. Voodoo witchdoctor combat. I have to wonder if director Kuei Chih-Hung knew he was at the end of his career (his next film, appropriately named Misfire, would be his last of nearly 40) and tried to cram in every idea he had left. It pays off, though only according to its few acolytes. The hyperactive unpredictable imagination of its fast-paced, anything-goes plot left me breathless and happy. Its willingness to ignore good taste and common sense occasionally goes too far, especially in some expendable gross-out scenes, but I’m glad it never holds back. This is an all-time favorite.

A Boy and His Dog – Post apocalyptic SF written by Harlan Ellison and starring Miami Vice’s Don Johnson as a wasteland youth hunting women to rape with the help of his telepathic dog. The second half gets weirder. The politically incorrect, frequently mistimed humor is not for everyone, but most agree the anti-romantic ending is priceless.

Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia – El Jefe, a rich Mexican landowner, tortures his pregnant daughter to discover her lover’s name (Alfredo Garcia) and sets a million dollar bounty on his head. Bennie, a washed-up drunk, learns that Garcia is already dead, digs up the head, and plans to make a killing, except that everything goes to hell. Bloodsoaked, grotesque and riddled with amoral desolation, Sam Peckinpah’s film was critically savaged on its release, but hailed as a masterpiece decades later. I found it revolting on first watch, but Netflixed it a second time only a couple of weeks later after I couldn’t get it out of my head. I also considered including Peckinpah’s The Getaway, which is sort of the reverse case: a huge box office success in its day now considered beneath notice. I think it’s an action classic with some brilliant technical work (especially in the editing of the opening act), but it was made for all the wrong reasons: Peckinpah needed the money and McQueen and McGraw couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Brother from Another Planet – An “alien” (who happens to look exactly like a black man) crash lands on Earth and has to survive in New York City without knowing anyone or speaking the language and while being hunted by space slavers (who happen to look exactly like white yuppies). The metaphor’s total lack of subtlety is part of the charm. Director John Sayles has made better films, but few with such a knowing sense of humor.

A Bucket of Blood – Roger Corman’s unexpectedly sensitive satire of beatniks finds a dimwitted waiter inadvertently transformed into the toast of the 1950’s avant-garde after he kills a cat (and later much more) and coats the corpse in clay. I’m a Corman apologist and considered several of his films for this list, ultimately running with A Bucket of Blood (that sounds odd out of context) though these days it might be considered an obvious choice. Prefer something of his more eccentric? I'm curious; throw it in a comment.

Cannibal: The Musical – An early film by the South Park guys, this is a musical based on the real life frontier cannibalism of prospecting party lost during a trip from Utah to Colorado. It’s low-budget, irreverent and surreal, but it’s surprising how often the film actually succeeds. The songwriting, especially, is rather memorable. (I'm playing back the musical numbers in my head and laughing. Some it you just has to be witnessed!)

Care Bears Adventures in Wonderland – Even the few professional critics who bother to review Care Bears movies, considered this, the third in the series, to be a confusing and unwelcome effort from the Canadian animation team. I watched this whenever I was sick as a kid and I still love their take on Alice in Wonderland, especially the cheery-dreary villain who wants to bring sanity to wonderland (how evil!) and desaturate all the colors (or something). A few bastardizations go too far, including a rapping Cheshire cat. Also new is a pair of red robots, piloted by Tweedledee and Tweedledum, which gave me nightmares.

Carnival of Souls – Carnival is sort of an art-house zombie movie, produced for peanuts and taking decades to build up word of mouth. Deliberate, brooding and mild-mannered, it gets under your skin, thanks largely to the inexperienced director’s earnest artistic ambition and the investment of his cast and crew. Part of the kick I get out of watching the film is having lived near both the primary shooting locations: Lawrence, KS and Salt Lake City, UT.

Cassandra Cat – Czech children’s parable about innocence, love and kittens. A small village is visited by a beautiful immortal magician who puts on a puppet show. The local young-at-heart teacher falls in love. The plot hinges around the lady’s magical cat who reveals the citizen’s true colors (literally) when it removes its stylish sunglasses. Essentially it’s about how authority, hypocrisy, taxidermy and most adults suck. Yeah, it’s a product of its time, but one I utterly sympathize with.

The Central Region – Michael Snow placed a camera that could rotate on every axis in the rocky shrub-strewn Canadian wilderness far from the nearest human habitation. For three days it executed pre-programmed patterns of movements in the absence of a director, cameraman or cast. Snow edits the resulting footage into a 3 hours film with no story. This is Structuralism, hardcore. More specifically it’s an experimental work that abandons conventional notions of narrative and performance in favor of analyzing form and technique, challenging us to see our world through alien eyes. Tedious? Yes. But after overcoming my fidgets I gradually synchronized with the film’s rhythm of motions and became strangely hypnotized. Enough to watch it several times!

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Fri, 04 May 2012 23:35:00 +0000

Hey, I'm back with a big new 10 part series of capsule reviews! Expect it to be self-indulgent. Behold:

I have a tendency to defend movies. And not just the great ones. I like movies, I watch a lot of them, and I tend to give them the benefit of the doubt. I’ve got my moments of snobbery (this IS the internet after all), but I rarely fail to find something of value in the movies I see. It helps that I leverage friends, lists, trusted critics, the internet and a bit of common sense to vet what I take in. Still, I’ve seen plenty of films whose merits were contradicted by all of those resources, which I’d defend. I'd probably lose the case, but I'd defend them. This is a list about those movies.

I’m calling this my 100 "Worst Favorite" Films. "Favorite Worst" Films implies that I think all these films are actually bad and, worse still, openly admit it. It took me a while to formulate exactly what I was going for with this list, but it amounts to this: what films do I value well beyond the critics/the public/anyone objective. So that includes movies deemed wretched that I think worthwhile all the way up to movies labeled mediocre that I consider brilliant. It includes titles I think are genuinely underrated or neglected as well as films I love, but can’t realistically call masterpieces.

I’ve tried not weasel out of embarrassing myself by choosing only obscure titles. I’m hoping everyone will recognize at least a couple films that will totally undermine my authority as a film blogger. For those films you don’t recognize (perhaps for good reason) I’ve provided blurbs that explain the gap between my opinion and the general consensus. And who knows, maybe a few of you will agree with me?

I’ve also aimed for variety, so while the list is dominated by sci-fi and horror (which lend themselves to flawed genius) I’ve also included art films, exploitation, musicals, documentaries, romantic comedies, children’s cartoons and 'adult' films. Where else will you find Care Bears Adventures in Wonderland on a list with Dr. Jekyll and His Women?

I’ll be putting out the list in daily installments of 10 films each. For any regular readers out there I apologize for recycling many movies that I’ve written about before, especially during the Hall of Strangeness series. Like most people, I'm biased towards films I saw in my formative years, the 1990's in my case, so I should apologize for that too. But I'm not going to. After all, this list is all about bias.

So now, blurring the line between recommendations and confessions, I present my worst favorites films for your enjoyment (even if, statistically speaking, the odds aren’t in your favor).

8-Diagram Pole Fighter – A classic martial arts films that is undergoing a welcome resuscitation, 8-Diagram Pole Fighter is, as one might expect, all about the pole fighting choreography. This is best displayed during the opening credits, a scene which the rest of the movie can’t often live up to. The film is severely handicapped by the death of one of the leads, who just disappears near the final act of the movie and isn’t mentioned again. Typical of the genre, the acting and dubbing are often outrageously bad. Of note: more teeth get knocked out in the final battle, which takes place on a pyramid of coffins, than in any five other films I’ve seen.

American Astronaut – A science-fiction western musical by inspired indie rocker Cory McAbee. Poorly paced, steeped in twisted insider humor and dreamlike to the point of occasional frustration, this is still a masterpiece of atmosphere, space-as-the-new-West revisionism and raw individual vision. Critics disagree with the nice things I said. I don’t think it ever even had a theatrical release and I’ve only been able to buy copies from the band’s website.

The Annunciation – A work of nigh unrivaled ambition, condemnation and pretentiousness, The Annunciation is a Hungarian adaptation of The Tragedy of Man, framed as a vision presented to Adam and Eve by Lucifer, just after the fall, in which they watch the consequences of sin throughout the history of civilization spanning ancient Babylonia, the French Revolution, Victorian England and more. The film would have been dark and daring enough had it not used a cast composed entirely of children ages 10-12, whose unnerving depictions of mankind’s treachery, lust, rage and, in rare glimpses, redemption, scandalized contemporary Western censors and left the few critics who caught a screening scratching their heads. A handful, like me, was riveted.

Apartment Zero – Colin Firth stars as an Argentinian stalker infatuated with Hollywood Golden Age cinema and his new roommate, who might be a war criminal. Firth seems harmless at first, but his character arc has a satisfying curve to it. Apartment Zero is a queer thriller that wavers pleasantly (for me) between creepy and campy, yet the genuine affection for the troubled lead and the inclusion of grisly real-life political issues can’t quite be laughed away. I tend to enjoy films like this where one can’t quite pin down the dominate tone or the intended reaction.

The Apple (1980) - In the distant future (1994), two Canadian folksingers must battle to save their music, and their souls, from dystopian music industry tyrant BIM (Boogalow International Music) and his mind-controlling disco beats in this ambitious sci-fi musical adaptation of the Bible. The costume design, choreography and songwriting are frankly amateurish, but in the best sense: full of crazy ideas and laughable wrongness that a ‘better’ director would have cut or failed to conceive. I have so much fun watching this awkward, enthusiastic time-capsule that it must be doing something right.

Bad Blood (1986) – Imagine a future in which youth is being wiped out by a new STD that kills people who have sex without love. Now imagine a movie that has basically nothing to do with that. This is both of those movies. The young cast includes early-career Juliette Binoche, Denis Lavant and Julie Delpy. It’s so oozing with style that it congeals over and, thankfully, largely obscures the plot. The experimental lighting tends to obscure the action. But really its quite beautiful. And David Bowie’s music comes through pretty clear. I’m excited because Leos Carax, the director, is emerging from a 13 year hiatus with an upcoming parallel realities film called Holy Motors.

Barbarella – Pure silly space-romping future-camp full of 60’s psychedelic set design and goofy technobabble. Child dolls with gnashing metal teeth. A blind angel who lacks the will to fly. A giant sex organ (as in piano). Nothing makes any sense and doesn’t need to because everyone seems like they are having fun. Oh yeah, and Jane Fonda strips in zero G. If you like Barbarella make sure to check out Modesty Blaise, a close runner-up.

Billy Jack – Billy Jack is a half-breed ex-Green Beret who defends a hippy commune from small town America and their conservative authoritarianism using kick-heavy kung-fu. Director/writer/star Tom Laughlin can’t always decide rather he wants to make an exploitation film or a painfully sincere flower-power screed and ends up tipping towards the latter, allowing the film to make up for its laundry list of flaws on the strength of its naïve, but endearing, convictions. It actually makes me respect it a lot more that it sticks to its values even at the expense of being, you know, a bit more entertaining.

Blind Beast – A blind masseuse kidnaps a client who he obsesses over via touch. He imprisons her in his warehouse, an overwhelming menagerie of female body part sculptures (I can't do it justice without screenshots), where he plans to develop the sense of touch to an art form that will rival sight and sound. Masumura, one of cinema’s most underrated masters, both indulges and elevates the pulpy material with his expressionist sets, philosophical script and brave performances. His satire of corporate culture and the media, Giants and Toys, almost made the list.

Blindman – A blind gunslinger delivering 50 mail-order brides to a mining camp is betrayed and robbed of his human cargo. He sets out for revenge against a clan of foes with names like Domingo, Skunk and Candy (played by Beatles drummer Ringo Starr). Strange and misguided beyond measure, the film nevertheless knows how deliver memorable setpieces unlike anything the stagnant western genre has produced before. It all culminates in a gritty showdown between the two chief rivals, both now blind, scrapping desperately amid a field of nameless gravestones; a staggering metaphor for… something.

Some Films Came Out in 2011

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 22:36:00 +0000

Yeah, so some films came out in 2011. The consensus seems to be it was a slow year. I have to agree, but still, I enjoyed myself. I saw about 35 films from 2011 by my count, which is better attendance than my last three years. I've still got almost 20 more I'd like to get around to.

The Oscars aired over the weekend and they tended to bear out the 'slow year' assessment with above-average but generally straight-forward crowd-pleasers The Artist and Hugo leading with five awards apiece in races that were hardly nail-biting. I enjoyed both films quite a bit, but was sad to see the two films I thought were truly brilliant get beaten out, The Tree of Life for best picture, director and cinematography and A Separation for best screenplay (to the thoroughly mediocre Midnight in Paris). My friends and I were fairly disappointed with the results and yet, one must acknowledge that this is what the Oscars do: they validate safe, middlebrow films that are generally liked at least a little bit by everyone. It is hard to fault the Academy too much for fulfilling it's long-established role.

For it could be much worse. Dull and conventional as the Academy is, they still have better taste than the movie-going public. I know that's a terribly snobby thing to say, but today I happened to look over the box-office returns for 2011 and, for someone who cares about cinema, it's highlights, innovations, eccentricities, emotional power and imaginative possibilities, it can't help but be a little depressing to see the numbers.

Here's the top 20 grossers for the year:

1. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

2. Transformers: Dark of the Moon

3. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1

4. The Hangover 2

5. Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

6. Fast Five

7. Mission Impossible - Ghost Protocol

8. Cars 2

9. Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows

10. Thor

11. Rise of the Planet of the Apes

12. Captain America

13. The Help

14. Bridesmaids

15. Kung Fu Panda 2

16. Puss in Boots

17. X-Men: First Class

18. Rio

19. The Smurfs

20. Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked

Out of 20 films there are 12 sequels, 3 prequels and 3 comic book adaptations (which will probably spawn sequels of their own).

Of the remaining 3, one was an adaptation of a book (The Help), leaving only two original properties. One was Bridesmaids, produced by Judd Apatow (probably my all-time comedic nemesis) in his trademark style. The other was Rio, a warmly-received animated kids movie which performed well for Blue Sky Studios at the box-office, but barely half as well as their panned 2009 blockbuster threequel Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs. They won't make the mistake of risking a new franchise anytime soon; next year they've announced Ice Age: Continental Drift. No joke.

The top 9 highest-grossing films this year were sequels. On average, the top 8 films were the 4th entry in a franchise. The fourth! I can remember back to when my grandparents complained about how all that ever got churned out was sequels (as in direct sequels, number two in a series). They didn't know how good they had it. But this is presumably what people want. Or what advertisers have trained people to think they want.

Alright, then. Not depressed yet? Let's look at how the nominees for best picture fared. I'm going to list the nine nominees in order of their box-office takes, each one followed by a film that outgrossed them displayed in parenthesis as a point of comparison.

#13 The Help (Fast Five)

#41 War Horse (Battle: Los Angeles)

#42 The Descendants (Real Steel)

#46 Moneyball (Tower Heist)

#52 Hugo (Jack and Jill - This years front-runner at the Golden Raspberries)

#59 Midnight in Paris (Justin Bieber: Never Say Never)

#96 The Artist (Sucker Punch. A "fantasia of misogyny" - A. O. Scott)

#97 Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (The Roommate)

#132 The Tree of Life (Judy Moody and the NOT Bummer Summer, Season of the Witch, etc.)

I like to think I have better taste than either the theater-swarming masses or the decrepit Academy, but then who doesn't? So here are my top 10 films of the year (make that 11, and keep in mind I didn't see everything, or even all that much) along with capsule summaries that may explain their lack of wide-scale appeal.

#132 The Tree of Life - Mankind, not to mention the individual, is doomed to a patrimony of struggle and bitterness, but don't worry, we're just insignificant motes in the grand scheme of the universe anyway.

#175 A Separation - An Iranian family deals with divorce, a grandparent with Alzheimer's disease and the contested miscarriage of an employee living in poverty. Even though everyone means well they still compromise their morals and tear each other apart.

#168 The Skin I Live In - Soap opera meets horror thriller meets sexual identity thesis in a beguiling, carefully-structured and admittedly unmarketable rabbit hole about an absurdly unethical surgeon, his beautiful experimental patient, and their complicated pasts.

#163 Shame - Loneliness and emptiness erode the soul. Sex doesn't help.

#170 Melancholia - Depression and the apocalypse are the only soulmates at a disastrous wedding.

#185 Take Shelter - You're either going insane or a terrifying storm is about to destroy everything and everyone you love.

#110 Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - There's no honor among spies. Or action. Or even sex appeal.

#151 Margin Call - Investment bankers are greedy, but not happy.

#42 The Descendants - A family that stalks together, stays together (except for the terminally comatose adulterous wife).

#62 Source Code - A war vet uses time-travel to fight terrorism and fall in love. Too bad he's already dead. Or not... I guess.

#96 The Artist - 1929 hated the silent era. 2011 loves it.

Anyway, that's my take on 2011. Bitter as I sound, I ended up having a blast by the end! And I'm looking forward to the great films of 2012.

Review of Koalageddon 2

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 06:56:00 +0000

The past decade has seen a steady stream of environmental issue documentaries, of highly varying quality, doubtlessly leveraging popular interest in climate change and the plunging financial barriers to distributing independent shot-on-digital productions. Nowadays I tend to catch an uneven smattering of these films (grassroot documentaries being the type of thing I feel more obligated than excited to see), but several years ago when the concept was fresher and my motivation higher, I really kept up with them. It was around this time that I remember hearing about Koalageddon, a zero-budget documentary about the threat of deforestation (and formerly hunting) to the survival of Adelaidian koalas in Australia.

I didn’t catch the film when it played at the 2005 Saint Louis International Film Festival (it was the first I attended and I failed to schedule my time well), but I did Netflix it when it became widely available on DVD about a year later. It struck me as honestly pretty mediocre. Clearly a lot of passion had gone into the subject matter, but ultimately it came off as shrill and obsessive, with long unbroken shots of koalas set to narration that was more poetic than informative. A lot of the statistics sounded wrong or irrelevant, like comparing the U.S. expenditure on the Iraq War to the Australian Fund for the Protection of Endangered Species. Sure the latter is a paltry sum by comparison to the American defense budget, but I’m not sure the infographic vaguely equating tanks to koalas made any actual sense.

Worse still, director Liu Xiaojun (who intrudes into his subject matter with Michael Moore-like persistence) and several of his interview subjects are clearly describing pandas on several occasions. Most of the interviews are conducted in Mandarin, which starts feeling suspicious about fifteen minutes in, and though the subtitles are meticulous about displaying “koala” you can clearly hear the director and interviewees saying “xiongmao” (panda). I read later that Xiaojun had wanted to make a documentary about endangered pandas, but was pressured (some say violently) to change his topic by Chinese censors over fears that it would appear critical of their already-beleaguered environmental policies. The result may be one of the first documentaries whose subject is a metaphor for a wholly different subject. While this adds a touch of comedic surrealism to the film, Koalageddon was just too scattershot and unprofessional to make a big impression on me. I sent the DVD back to Netflex and forgot the whole thing. I figured I would never hear of Liu Xiaojun again.

And then the rumors began.

It all started here, in a 2009 article about Liu Xiaojun receiving a $2.25 million Australian Film Society grant to establish a permanent Adelaidian koala shelter and film a documentary on the process. It was to function as a sort sequel in which the ‘Koalageddon’ would be averted and was intended to be broadcast as a three part TV special. But in a massively embarrassing oversight, the last Adelaidian koala had already died in captivity four months earlier leading Xiaojun to call Peter Garrett, the Australian Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts a “murderous hyena” and his grant “like putting a Band-Aid on a rotting corpse.” The rumors continued to heat up after Xiaojun refused to return the money and purportedly swore a blood oath to avenge the koalas during an interview with the Brisbane Daily Post. He promptly dropped off the public radar for more than a year.

If you’re reading this review you already know how the story ends: Xiaojun reemerged in August with “Koalageddon 2: Eucalyptus Now” a controversial action/horror film featuring zombie koalas, copious violence and one of the strangest sex scenes in recent memory. That would be odd enough as it is, but even more surprising is that the film is actually getting really good reviews. I had a chance to see it at this year’s festival and I have to admit Liu Xiaojun has made a masterpiece of sorts, hampered as it is by last-minute subtitling. He is poised to become an international star, but it looks unlikely that he plans to continue as a filmmaker.

Koalageddon 2 opens in a small park in Adelaide. A young girl reads the plaque under a stone monument memorializing the extinct species of local koala. A storm kicks up and the girl runs off to join her mother under an umbrella. The park is left empty as drops begin to fall. In next to no time a lightning bolt strikes the statue, bringing to life five adorable koalas whose eyes flash ominously crimson. The subtitled narration is especially unclear about how this metamorphosis works but it involves “Mother Dirt’s lust for revengement [sic]” and “the Lords of Blood and Milk.”

The koalas, listed as Nergal, Hannibal, Monstro, Ned and Deathweaver in the credits but never named in the course of movie, quickly split up to search for Eucalyptus leaves but become distracted from their mission by various modern conveniences and societal pitfalls. For nearly half the movie, which might be anywhere from a week to several decades within the movie’s universe (Xiaojun plays with chronology in a way that defies clear sequencing and demands multiple viewings), we watch the koalas adapting to contemporary culture. Nergal becomes addicted to comic books, internet porn and dope. Monstro binges on fast food and takes out his frustration at failing to emotionally connect with his middle-class coworkers by moonlighting as a graffiti artist and notorious vandal. Hannibal turns to prostitution, gets talked into a botched back-alley abortion, spins into a manic-depressive cycle fueled by regret and self-loathing and is ultimately drawn into the underground fetish club scene from which he never returns. Ned talks on a cell phone all day (we never find out to whom and it’s implied that there might not be anyone on the other end) while taking endless walks (filmed in staggeringly well-choreographed long takes) through Adelaide’s economically-booming but spiritually-bankrupt suburbs.

Only Deathweaver comes within reach of happiness after being rescued from mobsters by free-wheeling, debonair hobo Maverick ‘Coolpop’ Christman (played by Liu Xiaojun himself). The two promptly fall in love while outwitting various greedy businessmen, hypocritical priests, conservative politicians and even a snotty film critic.

In each of these scenarios the human characters never find the presence of talking koalas strange.

It isn’t until the last half-hour that the movie falls into the usual action and horror movie clichés. The koalas find their appetite for eucalyptus impossible to appease productively (though they hardly seem to try and only intermittent reference is made to a “global leaf shortage”) and begin to sate themselves on human flesh. This is ambiguously tied in with their bodies beginning to rot, presumably because they are zombies of some sort? Or is an allegory for their corrupted purity and innocence? Xiaojun’s screenplay is just trying to tackle too much, and I think he may have written himself into a corner. Still, the ensuing bloodbath is, from a purely aesthetic point of view, a really impressive piece of filmmaking. Several other extinct animals such as the thylacine, desert bandicoot and hopping mouse make cameos as they join in the carnage.

Coolpop Christman delivers several pace-destroying impassioned speeches pleading for both sides to stop fighting, live in harmony and practice a vegan diet. Nobody listens.

Even Deathweaver gradually succumbs to the craving for human meat, but his struggle to resist is especially bittersweet. In the film’s most touching moment, set against a blazing sunset backdrop and an elegiac symphony score, Maverick Christman takes his own life so that his friend and lover may safely feed for another week. The gesture, however, is ultimately useless. Deathweaver must eventually venture out into the streets for sustenance and is gunned down in a slow-motion hail of bullets.

At this point the little girl from the opening scene (the one seen reading the plaque) reappears in the audience of onlookers to deliver the film’s now-iconic final line: “Don’t you see? We are all koalas and oil is our eucalyptus!” While regarded as ham-fisted by some, it has become something of an environmentalist anthem in Asia and Australia and its penetration into the region's popular culture is already to the point where Thai cosmetics giant SenHyg has adopted “Oil is our eucalyptus” as the tagline for their latest eucalyptus oil hand cream.

The ending credits roll over a series of seemingly unrelated images from around Adelaide, absent of any of the characters we’ve been introduced to. It’s a little reminiscent of Antonioni’s ending in Eclipse. However, on closer inspection each frame has a disturbing reminder of the toll consumerism has taken on koalas: the teenage girl singing karaoke sports a jaunty koala-fur hat, the father figure grilling burgers in his backyard is using ground koala meat, the old man teaching chess to his grandson is playing with pieces carved from koala ivory (I suspect this last is Xiaojun’s artistic license and not a literal product). It’s all surprisingly moving.

Though Koalageddon 2: Eucalyptus Now is already establishing itself as a cult film, it’s not surprising that Australia is distancing itself from the work it inadvertently funded and China has banned it outright, not for the violence and nudity, but because of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot in which Monstro morphs into a panda, grows 100 feet tall and crushes Zhongnanhai.

I don’t know whether we’ll see more by Xiaojun in the future or if, instead, his name will remain forever tied to these two idiosyncratic films, but I wish we had more like him. His combination of a heartfelt documentary core souped up with stylish genre fixings will likely serve as a formula for many movies to come.

Walrus Rating: 7.5

The Endless Movie Game (or Two Things)

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 00:14:00 +0000

I've moved things around on the sidebar a bit to make room for The Endless Movie Game. What is the endless movie game? It's my favorite game.

Here is how you play:

You draw two cards with things written on them and try to name a movie that matches both.

Creativity is encouraged. I like to play in a group, but without points or competition. We take turns, but with everyone generally chiming in and helping out.

Now you can play it online anytime, by clicking the "Draw Cards" button on the right sidebar of the Film Walrus. Why? Well the stack of index cards I am using is now rather unwieldy and I want to play from my iPhone. I'd have made an app, but I don't have a mac to develop on.

I wrote about the genesis of the game once upon a time. The idea is more-or-less stolen from Cineplexity, but I've made up my own cards without ever playing the official version.

Currently the cards that appear in the movie game are from my original "white deck" (augmented with hundreds of online-exclusive entries) that are general topics like genres, time periods, technical aspects of film, types of villains, subjective experiences, memory challenges, settings, themes, etc. They are probably skewed towards my proclivities. Sorry if they don't all make sense to you.

There will probably be periodic updates. The biggest is known around these here parts (meaning amongst my friends in St. Louis) as the green deck. The green deck consists of actors, actresses, directors, composers and other specific names grouped into sets based on my own logic, taste and humor. I haven't digitized these yet, but it allows for several play styles:

2 white cards: The easiest mode. Pretty general and free-form. Good for film fans of all abilities. Online now!

1 white + 1 green: Moderate difficulty. This mode is my personal favorite. Coming soon.

2 green cards: Six-degrees of separation. Probably the hardest mode. Coming soon.

Oh, you might be wondering where I've been. If you read blogs then you are sick of apologies and excuses, so I won't go there. Suffice it to say, it has been a while.

Since my last post I got married, quit my job, moved to Wyoming and started a novel. A little while later I got divorced, moved back to St. Louis and returned to my old job. In between there was some unforgettable disc golf road trips across the country and a long bout of depression. Also I watched a few movies.

I'm not 'back' per se, so don't take this as a promise of future updates.

Winter's Bone

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 21:09:00 +0000

Meth labs, child neglect, chill weather, cattle shows, Cardinal’s regalia, squirrel hunting, military aspirations, yards full of trucks, bales of hay and barbed wire, framed pictures of cats, bad roots and worse facial hair.

Yup, “Winter’s Bone,” already being declared one of the best films of the year so far, is definitely set in my adopted home state of Missouri. It won the top prize at Sundance this year.

Ree Dolly is a young girl in the Ozarks who’s become a rather self-sufficient parent to her younger siblings in lieu of their mentally absent mother and physically absent father. When she learns that her dad, who until recently was serving a jail sentence for drug production, put up their home for bail and then skipped town, she has no choice but to hunt him down through his unsavory relatives and coconspirators. Her questions stir up a hornet’s nest. The resulting nightmare is film noir served Missouri-style.

Jennifer Lawrence is superb in the central role and the supporting cast is memorably colorful without sacrificing the degree of development and realism necessary to avoid the usual ‘evil hillbilly’ clichés. The plot builds with just the right level of mounting suspense and foreboding and plays out like a Coen brothers film without the amused detachment.

Daniel Woodrell, author of the source novel, has previously had his novel “Woe to Live On” adapted by Ang Lee as “Ride with the Devil” (released by Criterion this April).

Review of Night Bacon

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 20:05:00 +0000

I generally try to avoid writing negative reviews, and I’ve vowed as much before, but catching an advanced screening of “Night Bacon: The Movie” (2010) a few days ago, I feel actively obligated to break that vow. Being moderately familiar with the television show I had pretty low expectations to begin with, but decided to attend because (a) it was free, (b) I try to keep up on even bad animation and (c) a friend invited me who claims, incomprehensibly, to be a big fan. I’m assuming his enthusiasm is all part of that inexhaustible 80’s nostalgia thing, but I hated the show even as a kid.

Though “Night Bacon,” the cartoon series, was an indelible part of my childhood and that of most people growing up in 1980’s Kansas, I realized later (when it came up in conversation at college) that almost nobody outside of the Midwest has even heard of the show. That’s not surprising, in retrospect, since I find on Wikipedia that it was funded exclusively by Wichita Pork Agglomeration and produced by their small animation subsidiary, Porktoons, not far from where I grew up. The low-grade animation, moronic plots, obnoxious music and appalling misinformation served as little more than an extended commercial for pork products and the show, sensibly enough, was never carried by any station outside of Wichita Pork Agglomeration’s sales region.

So for those of you from the west coast, east coast and the world at large, who missed out on the experience, I present a pseudo-summary of the television series cobbled together from my distant memories and a few quick internet searches:

The star was Francis, a rather generic all-around boy genius and pop singer who transforms, at dusk, into dashing crime-fighting superhero Night Bacon. Night Bacon looks exactly like a giant strip of bacon, but retains Francis’s eyes and mouth. In a strangely cannibalistic twist, which never seemed to bother me as a kid, Night Bacon eats large quantities of regular-sized bacon for energy.

I never saw the earliest episodes, but my friend (the “big fan”) says that the origin involved Francis’s mother being bitten by a Pork Fairy while pregnant, causing Francis to be born with all the intelligence of a human boy, but with the innate superpowers of bacon. The list of these superpowers was endless, but apparently in constant flux due to the show’s total lack of continuity. The writers would invent or forget about powers depending on the needs of the current episode, but the one semi-consistent element was the Bacon Ray, which was usually deployed at the last minute as an irresistible killing blow.

Even the Bacon Ray alternated inexplicably between a lightning bolt that fried villains into, you guessed it, more bacon and a laser beam that caused foes (even chickens) to explode into bacon bits. I have a fuzzy memory of one occasion when the Bacon Ray was portrayed as a rainbow (a la the Care Bears), but with the colors restricted to the meat spectrum (dark red to pulpy yellow), in keeping with the show’s exhausting, though immediately-recognizable, color scheme.

I do remember the Pork Fairies, which were a reoccurring element of the show and, though surreal, actually kind of adorable. The Pork Fairies were smiley, winged, nearly-circular pigs that frolic and flutter happily in the woodlands of some unspecified third-world country. Their habitat is constantly under threat by foreign conspiracies to cut down the forest and plant oat fields and vegetable gardens (invariably portrayed as menacing and undesirable). Francis, his best friend Roger and the rest of the gang (all members are his father’s Friendly Meat Corporation) are constantly trying to save the lovable Pork Fairies from misguided activists and vegetarians. These scenarios are typical examples of “Night Bacon” appropriating, and inverting, environmentalist rhetoric towards its own twisted ends.

Francis had a laboratory where he produced the inevitable stream of wacky gadgets that appeared in every animated kid’s show of that era. He also had Maria Porkova, a sexy lab assistant whose outfits and pork-based innuendo never seemed appropriate for the target audience and never had anything to do with the plot. Her one task seemed to be running the Baconizer, a hovering, spinning golden ring. The Baconizer is the one part of the show I will never, never forget, though I often wish I could. The Pork Fairies, willingly self-sacrificing to assist Francis, would leap through the Baconizer which magically transformed them into a flurry of energy-providing bacon to fuel Night Bacon’s superpowers.

While the Baconizer completely misrepresents the complicated and gory process by which bacon is actually made, one decision by the creators, doubtlessly intended to make us worry even less about the poor Pork Fairies, made the entire thing almost traumatizing. This was the shrill, giddy, hysterical giggle that the Pork Fairies emitted as they passed through the Baconizer. Watching clips on YouTube, this hideous laughter still sends chills down my spine. Nothing and nobody should ever be so… happy. According to the trivia on the official fan site the Baconizer was originally going to be called the Super Laughter Ring, or SLaughteRing for short (whose idea was that?), and the sound bite was recorded with that in mind. Since the show regularly recycled whatever animation they already had, it was never changed.

Like with a lot of other Saturday morning cartoons, the best part of Night Bacon was often the villains. These fell into two categories. The first were miscellaneous monsters-of-the-weeks like the Asian stereotype Master Veggie Med-Lee, psychotic Professor Health Nut, clueless vampire Count Calory and the nefarious Vitamen from Venus. Even as a kid I remember thinking these villains were awfully tasteless and sent a horrible dietary message for impressionable kids.

The other type of badguy was poultry, usually chickens, but drawn to look more like vultures, harpies and gargoyles. They were frequently depicted as bumbling, unsanitary and suffering from leprosy. The birds lived segregated from the rest of society (my friend claims this was a race metaphor) and were usually just ignored by Night Bacon (though due to a favor he performed in some episode I never saw, he was occasionally allowed into their exclusive Turkey Club), but they inevitably turned out to be working as henchmen for the main villains.

One of the shows running gags will give you some idea of the shocking amount of violence (to say nothing of the sex) that eventually caused so many complaints that “Night Bacon” was moved from Saturday mornings to Tuesday Evenings. This running gag involved the chickens, who often ended up in police custody or were otherwise subdued by Night Bacon by the end of the episode. Then, mere moments before the episode ended and for no reason whatsoever Night Bacon would slash off the heads of the captive chickens and their bodies would dance around spastically to the closing credit music. If that weren’t enough, the intermittent gouts of blood that squirted from their necks splattered, as though on a camera lens, to form the names in the credits.

I remember that my mom HATED “Night Bacon” (she never knowingly let us watch it) and nothing more so than the gratuitous violence directed at chickens. And yet, on cleaning out my closet in my parent’s home some years ago, I discovered that it was a plastic toy chicken that was the sole item of “Night Bacon” merchandizing that I apparently ever possessed. The chicken was meant to be filled with ketchup through (I kid you not) a cap right where the anus should be and the head could be removed so that the ketchup could be squeezed out through the neck. I never liked ketchup and my “Night Bacon” chicken has, consequently, never been used. I’m tempted to see if I can get anything for it on Ebay.

The animation was always abysmal, even lazier than the worst moments in Rocky and Bullwinkle or Schoolhouse Rock, from which it borrowed many of its money-saving techniques. These included not only repeating clips, but lengthy segments of looping, most notably during the shows insufferable musical interludes. These involved two practically interchangeable bands: (1) Francis and the Sausage Links, who played mindless techno beats with Francis singing in falsetto and a trio of sausages providing backup, and (2) Sergeant Pepperoni’s Hearty Breakfast Band, which featured bad pork-themed parody songs and commercial jingles.

Francis and the Sausage Links would often play for several minutes at a time with no visual accompaniment other than the titular strip of bacon and the three sausages waggling around in front of microphones. The whole thing was mysteriously hypnotic and vaguely obscene. Sergeant Pepperoni’s Hearty Breakfast Band only stuck around for half a season, partly because of Porktoon's failure to negotiate music rights and partly because their blatantly unhealthy advice caused several accidents amongst young viewers. Lyrics varied from the stupid and disgusting (“sausage grease brings world peace, but bacon fat is where it’s at!”) to the dangerously self-serving, like telling kids that “vegetables are a fad” and to eat a pack of bacon “once a day and twice at night!”

Even less animation effort was involved with the once-an-episode speeches delivered by Pork President Alexander Hamilton, who was drawn as a strip of bacon with a blue square face in one corner, designed to look like an American flag with the streaks of meat and fat serving as the red and white stripes. Only the mouth would move during the speeches, which could run for five minutes and consisted of little but dishonest propaganda about the health benefits of pork products and the dangers of a diet high in fruits and vegetables.

For example: “You wouldn’t eat a dirty penny you found on the ground, would you? Or a trampled gob of bubble gum? Or a hunk of dog excrement? And yet many people eat stuff that grows in and on the ground every day! I ask you, is that wise? Is that sanitary?” These rants often sounded closer to Mussolini than any American president, let alone our first Secretary of the Treasury. The FCC made Porktoons cease airing these segments after a 1984 court decision.

The movie adaptation includes cameos from Hamilton and almost every other character from the series, although the chickens are conspicuous absent and are, in fact, never even referred to. Hamilton commissions Francis and Roger to stop a group of terrorist Neutritionists [sic] who have convinced the world that bacon is dangerously high in fat and sodium and should only be eaten only in moderation. Night Bacon soon discovers that the Neutritionists are not what they seem. Their real motive is to enslave the human race by turning them into health-obsessed zombies using their Neutriton bombs, which can only be resisted by eating excessive amounts of bacon. As Maria Porkova says, “At least a dozen strips of bacon per meal is the only guarantee for immunity. And after a strip, a big juicy sausage is just the thing!”

Night Bacon is captured after taking a bath in his restorative grease reservoir, which Doctor von Vegan has maniacally replaced with strength-sapping vegetable oil. Just when all seems lost, Francis administers a light “pork chop” to Doctor von Vegan’s scrawny neck, and he withers like a punctured balloon, but not before activating his Organic Farming Doomsday Device. Night Bacon remembers his trusty Bacon Ray just in time (the device's countdown shows one billionth of a second remaining) to destroy the machine and save the day. In celebration, his father’s Friendly Pork Corporation hosts an ultimate world concert for Francis and the Sausage Links. Despite the fact that plot has completely petered out, the concert scenes continue for another 25 minutes before the film ends.

Personally, I don’t think any amount of 1980’s nostalgia can justify how bad the film is. The transition to 3D CG is somehow even uglier than the original. The show’s humor remains clunky and unpleasant and there is no attempt to make the story even slightly interested. The sole mildly funny moment, in a sick kind of way, occurs when the cast of Veggietales shows up to the concert and are offhandedly slaughtered by Francis and Roger.

Do I have anything good to say about “Night Bacon: The Movie”? It could have been worse: it could have been live action.

Walrus Rating: 1.0

Cannes 2010 Summary

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Thu, 27 May 2010 19:55:00 +0000

Multiple forewarning are in order for this post. First of all, I've never been to Cannes nor have I seen any of the films this year. If you are interested in first-hand information, you're probably better off reading indieWire or whatever. All I can offer is some perspective on the director's past works, with recommendations and random opinions.

Which leads me to the second caveat. This post started as an email, a Cannes summary that I've been doing for a couple of years (but almost didn't happen this year because I forgot about the festival) and which grew rather large and started to include pictures. That being the case, bear with the strong opinions and schizophrenic writing style.

Cannes 2010:

This year's jury presidents was an interesting set of personal favorites, all directors: Tim Burton, Atom Egoyan and Claire Denis.

A lot of attention was focused around the director who wasn't there, Jafar Panahi. Panahi is an Iranian directors whose films implicitly criticize the religious, class and gender divides in his country and since his arrest in March on presumably political grounds he's been the focus of attention and support from cinema-lovers, directors and film programs the world over. I've only seen his most recent films, "Crimson Gold" and "Offside," both quite excellent. Now is a great time to get more familiar with the work of a filmmaker who really puts his neck on the line.

This year's golden palm went, only mildly surprisingly, to Apichatpong Weerasethakul (who just goes by Joe if you're not Thai), who probably couldn't stop winning prizes if he wanted to. His latest is "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives," an arty ghost story of sorts. I've kept up on Weerasethakul's films over the years, but he's one of the few directors who I almost wish would just stop. He has these amazing concepts that never really work for me and drag along in the most tedious manner. Yet I can't help watching his movies. His fans, typically high-brow critics, go into ecstatic fits over every shot and he's generally considered one of the greatest international directors to emerge from the last decade.

YouTube trailer, which accurately conveys his trademark pacing:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jk-EoUb0nvg&feature=player_embedded

The only Weerasethakul film I've genuinely liked so far is "Tropical Malady" which plods along like a typical dreamy queer cinema indie romance until halfway through when one character apparently morphs into a murderous tiger and disappears into the jungle and the other characters follows him on a sort of naked spirit-quest hunt. Or something. I've been trying to get people I know to see the film just so I can have someone to talk about it with. His latest one sounds interesting, but usually that ends up being a evil trick.

Best director went to Mathieu Amalric, everyone's favorite unsavory Frenchman (Quantum of Solace, Munich, A Christmas Tale, The Heartbeat Detector, etc), who only very occasionally steps into the director's chair. His film, "On Tour" is about a travelling burlesque show with Amalric as manager. Enjoy the poster:

Lee Chang-Dong won the screenplay prize for "Poetry" about an elderly South Korean woman with Alzheimer's who discover poetry, for better or worse. The buzz is that it's much better than that sounds, but I can't help thinking Chang-Dong should have won the screenplay prize back in 2000 for his more political "Peppermint Candy." The film is famous for ordering its scenes in reverse, beating "Memento" to the screen by a nose. Chang-Dong sat on the Cannes jury last year, so you just know the whole thing was rigged (just kidding).

The actor prize was split between Javier Bardem in Alejandro Inarritu's "Biutiful" and Elio Germano in Daniele Luchetti's "Our Life." Neither sounds particularly interesting outside of the performances, but most of the press says otherwise.

The actress prize went to Juliette Binoche in Abbas Kiarostami's "Certified Copy," which has been getting mixed reviews. I love Binoche, but Kiarostami is very hit or miss for me. His work in the 1980's and 1990's from his Koker trilogy to "Taste of Cherry" is excellent, but everything since then has tended to repeat itself and get progressively slower and preachier. I think Binoche has some masterplan to work with every major director in the world: Godard (France), Kieslowski (Poland), Haneke (Austria), Hou (Taiwan) and now Kiarostami (Iran) to name a few. Of her recent stuff, "Summer Hours" by Olivier Assayas is quite good, though her hair is awful. Binoche has the dishonor of being on this year's shockingly crappy official Cannes 2010 poster.

Other interesting films in the main competition:

Takeshi Kitano returns to familiar yakuza grounds with "Outrage." After "Fireworks," "Sonatine" and "Brothers" I'm not sure what he has left to say on the topic, but like Suzuki's yakuza pics and Scorsese's gangster films, it never really gets old.

Im Sang-soo's has remade the crazy 1960's South Korean classic "The Housemaid." I recently watched the original and I absolutely adore it. You can watch it free online at MUBI (formerly The Auteurs). I don't think there's anything the remake can offer, but Sang-soo might be just the right person to try it. His "The President's Last Bang" is a brilliant dark comedy deconstruction of Park Chung-hee's 1979 assassination that shows he knows how to handle serious material with a wry touch. The poster for The Housemaid sucks, so here is The President's Last Bang:

UK social realist Ken Loach continues his penchant for controversial political films ("Land and Freedom" and "The Wind that Shakes the Barley" being solid examples) with "Route Irish" about two pals who join a private security force in Iraq. I love Loach's work so I give him the benefit of the doubt, though I tend to prefer his films about heavily-accented locals living on the brink of poverty and crime ("My Name Is Joe," "Riff-Raff," "Sweet Sixteen"). Route Irish was actually was an early favorite for the top prize (in the Western press) along with...

... fellow Brit Mike Leigh's "Another Year." Maybe they split the vote? Leigh manages to lay bare the private hopes and fears of working class Britain in his semi-improv dramedies like "Naked," "Life is Sweet," "Happy-Go-Lucky" and his masterpiece "Secrets & Lies." Recently he has tried his hand at a variety of historical and biographical topics, but this sounds like a return to his contemporary preoccupations.

Bertrand Travernier, an understated director who doesn't seem to have very many champions in the America, has a new film called "The Princess of Montpensier," a romance set in the 1562 French Wars of Religion. It will probably be pretty good. No one will see it.

The only other director I'm familiar with from the main competition this year is Doug Liman and he doesn't bear talking about. See one reason below:

Un Certain Regard:

Cristi Puiu finally follows up his 2005 arthouse smash "The Death of Mr. Lazarescu" (a key film in the burgeoning Romanian New Wave) with "Aurora," the second installment of a planned six part series. At over 3 hours long, expect it to be brilliant, but exhausting. From Wikipedia: " Puiu spent five months searching for an appropriate lead actor before deciding to cast himself."

Jean-Luc Godard's lastest film "Socialism" had its debut, after being the subject of some excitement for almost three years. I expect it to be a free-form meditation on whatever topics come into Godard's head, similar to his other 21st century works like "In Praise of Love" and "Our Music." These always tend to be pretty interesting, but I'm on board with 99% of the population in preferring his work from the 1960's. When you get right down to it, I'd probably rather just look at pictures of Godard muse Anna Karina:

Jia Zhang-ke continues to regularly stamp out intriguing works and now has "I Wish I Know." He's regarded as the best of the Chinese 6th Generation and I've recently been exploring his work. "Still Life" would be my recommendations for those who are considering giving him a try. I suspect his importance as a modern filmmaker will only continue to grow.

Manoel de Oliveira, who at 101 is cinema's oldest active filmmaker (no one ever fails to mention this when talking about him, so why should I?), is showing "The Strange Case of Angelica." I wish I could find more of his enormous oeuvre, but it all seems rather rare. I watched "Abraham's Valley" in a mediocre dub and it only just whet my appetite without really satisfying me. As far as Portuguese directors go, I suspect de Oliveira is more worth seeking out than his fellow arthouse favorite Pedro Costa, whose stuff is just mind-numbing.

Out of Competition:

Opening the festival was Ridley Scott's "Robin Hood" which has already hit theaters in the US and word is that it is pretty awful. Other films outside the competition are "You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger," another Woody Allen film on the same old Allen romantic entanglement themes and the usual all-star cast that deserves something better, "Tamara Drewe" by Stephen Frears ("High Fidelity," "The Queen") and Oliver Stone's sequel "Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps," set during the 2008 financial crisis (I actually kind of want to see it).

Why does everyone love getting Russell Crowe dirty?

Review of The Desert of the Tartars

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Mon, 24 May 2010 21:14:00 +0000

“The Desert of the Tartars” (1976) was the last film by Italian director Valerio Zurlini, whose work I’m not familiar with, and although the movie’s reputation has faded, it is still quite capable of fascinating and mystifying. “Fascination” might seem a rather strong word for a film that is so stubbornly slow, long and uneventful, but its measures are divided with thematic and stylistic rhythms in mind with an ambition that I found easy to appreciate. The result is something like an epic story of wasted lives, told amidst the beauty and emptiness of sand and stone.

Lt. Giovanni Drogo takes up his first commission at Bastiani Fortress, an obscure outpost on the fringe of an unspecified empire. The fortress lies between a forbidding mountain range and a vast desert, both of which present such logistical difficulties for a crossing army that the oversized border fortress seems a ludicrous redundancy. Despite rumors of a force gathering in the distant north kingdom (beyond the desert) and of Tartar warriors that ride white horses amidst the sandstorms, no enemy is ever seen except as indistinct figures in the distance.

Yet all the men (the film’s only woman appears but briefly in the first scene) within the rigid hierarchy of officers are, each in their turn, seduced by the paranoia of a mounting threat that never materializes. Drogo finds that military life at Bastiani is not what he dreamed; there is no chance for glory and only an endless restless watchfulness and aching unsatisfying boredom. His first reaction, and his wisest, is to leave, but his sincere regard for courage, commitment and camaraderie cause him to doubt. Opportunities slip by. Circumstances align against him. As the years pass on quicker and quicker, he bids farewell to superiors who lead with varying degrees of success and leave with varying degrees of regret. As he rises through the ranks, Drogo longs for the moment where he can redeem the sacrifices he has made in a tangible confrontation. The moment always lingers just beyond the horizon.

Depending on how existential you’re feeling, the film can be read as a simple critique, even a condemnation, of the sterility of military life or as a more wide-reaching parable about the meaninglessness of human endeavor. The senseless of military discipline and obedience to rigid protocols is exemplified by Mattis (Giuliano Gemma), an officer who marches a sick man to death on a snowy peak, applauds the shooting of a friendly soldier for not knowing the correct password (despite being recognized) and who forces a disobedient platoon to stand without food until they begin to collapse.

The distinctive thing about “The Desert of the Tartars,” however, is that it doesn’t laugh, or even crack a smile, at the absurdity of war in the manner of films like “Catch-22” (1970), “MASH” (1970) or “Oh! What a Lovely War!” (1969). Nor does it emphasize the brutality and violence of war, as no actual combat takes place. The film simply exposes the self-aggrandizing gentility and paranoia of obsessive military vigilance as a sort of psychological illness, where the only battleground is in the mind and the struggle for peace and sanity is much more abstract than what the soldiers are trained to deal with. Again, Mattis, who vents his barely-concealed bloodlust in boar-hunting and sadistic treatment towards his men, is the key example.

[Image: Formal dinners provide an outlet for pomp, albeit in a static, stationary setting.]

The psychological angle, however, remains largely an issue of undertone and understatement. Characters are driven to illness, murder, suicide and madness by the endless waiting, but all in an atmosphere of suppression and aloof dignity that glides quietly over personal crises. The structure of the films fails to sustain ongoing tension and instead mounts upward for a brief episode and then diffuses again (perhaps intentionally frustrating us the same way the officers are frustrated). Zurlini opts for a slow burn, which I respect, but I wish he would eventually turn the temperature much higher than he ever goes. I would have, at least, preferred him to leave the ending more ambiguous, with the audience given more freedom to decide how much of the final developments are purely Drogo’s delusions.

[Images: Perrin does a fine job conveying the way that Bastiani wears away Drogo's mental and physical health, though the film is a little too lopsided in piling the bulk of his deterioration into the last act.]

The subdued tone that the film adopts also tends to squander the ridiculously high-profile cast. For a film that was often overlooked outside of Italy until NoShame put it out on DVD, the cast includes a remarkable amount of international talent: Jacques Perrin (France), Jean-Louis Trintignant (France), Max Von Sydow (Sweden), Fernando Rey (Spain), Vittorio Gassman (Italy), Philippe Noiret (France) and Helmut Griem (Germany), some of whom, like Rey and Noiret, are thrown away on underdeveloped roles.

[Image (from left to right): Max Von Sydow (The Seventh Seal, Hour of the Wolf), Fernando Rey (That Obscure Object of Desire, The French Connection), Jean-Louis Trintignant (The Conformist, Death Laid an Egg) and Jacques Perrin (Z).]

What Zurlini fails to squeeze from his actors, however, he makes up for with landscape. The fort, the mountains and especially the desert are for more compelling than any given character in his film. Luciano Tovoli's cinematography stares down the terrain with mute gravitas and paints it effortlessly with the burning chalk-brown of daylight and the soft purple-grey of twilight. Filming in Arg-e Bam, Iran, Zurlini and Tovoli make spectacular use of the ancient ruins, tapping their labyrinthine desolation as an Ozymandias-esque metaphor for the futility of man in the face of eternity.

[Images: The heavy use of lone figures dwarfed by lonely ruins and receding horizons is said to be inspired by the work of Giorgio de Chirico, which is how I happened to hear about the film.]

Nor does Zurlini skimp on panning across the wind-swept wasteland to awe us with the expanse that nothingness can fill and to humble us with the majesty of nature’s inhospitable frontiers. More so than “Lawrence of Arabia,” this film reminds me of something like “Woman in the Dunes,” with its dreamlike existential atmosphere that invokes horror more often than beauty. Also like “Woman in the Dunes,” I feel irresistibly compelled to read the book, written by Dino Buzzati in 1940.

If the memorable use of widescreen landscapes and the precise choreography of soldiers in spotless attire are easily the strong points of “The Desert of the Tartars,” the major weakness may well be the audio. The usually reliable Ennio Morricone (everything) provides some decent tracks, but they are too mellow and elegiac; nothing as evocative and moody and the film requires. Not only could we use a great deal more brooding, unsettling instrumental music, but a layered soundtrack capturing the ceaseless wind and dry echoes that surely haunt such a place could have gone a long way towards driving the atmosphere and tension that too often remains incomplete. Instead, long silences and a relatively scanty, purely utilitarian soundscape contribute the film’s occasional inability to sustain its powerful concepts. It’s a major opportunity missed.

Walrus Rating: 7.5

[Image: "The Red Tower" (1913) by De Chirico. Used as the cover the novel's English translation.]

Hall of Strangeness Part XXXII: Vampire Edition

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 00:30:00 +0000

I’ve been watching several interesting vampire films lately (a subgenre that seems in no danger of going out of style any time soon) and I thought it would be nice to update the vampire series I did a while back. The Twilight series is notably absent, but I don’t even want to get into that. Instead, I’m going to talk about a handful of vampire oddities from around the world in my old “Hall of Strangeness” format, which is relatively undemanding both to write and to read.

Let the Right One In – (Tomas Alfredson) John Ajvide Lindqvist’s Swedish novel and Alfredson’s film adaptation have been somewhat surprising critical and popular successes. The story follows a young boy who befriends a vampire child and their difficulties dealing with bullies and an insatiable craving for blood, respectively. Shot in cold dark hues, riddled with unsettling implications and unfolding with unusual elegance and maturity, “Let the Right One In” is nevertheless a little rough around the edges. Some of the horror scenes overshoot the slow-burning mood (CG cats especially) while at other times showing too much reluctance to explore the controversial source material. Still, the film is both ominously beautiful and effectively creepy; it will doubtlessly and deservedly enjoy a cult following.

Artistry: **** Fun: *** Strangeness: **

The Living Corpse – (Abdul Baqi) Not long ago I was amused to see “Zibahkhana (Hell’s Ground)” (2007) being hailed as “Pakistan’s first horror film,” which seemed odd considering that the same description was used to promote “The Living Corpse” (1967), made four decades earlier. I’m not nearly qualified to say whether even this film really holds that title, but it certainly doesn’t hold much else. Ostensibly a retelling of the Dracula story in Hammer Horror fashion, the filmmakers couldn’t resist the requisite Lollywood musical numbers and end up with a discombobulated mess that can be unevenly enjoyed with the right mood and the right crowd.

Artistry: * Fun: ** Strangeness: ***

Thirst – (Park Chan-wook) About a third of the way into Park Chan-wook’s (best known for “Joint Security Area” and his revenge trilogy) South Korean bio-horror epic I realized that the film was really an alternate-universe adaptation of Emile Zola’s 1867 adultery fable “Therese Raquin.” It takes a fair amount of guts to modernize a 19th century French naturalist classic, but to change the main character from a petty clerk to a vampire priest is a special type of brilliant. The rather long film covers a lot of narrative ground, indulges in Park Chan-wook’s peculiar gallows humor and addressed themes of lust, repression, sacrifice, guilt and revenge. Not all of it works, but maybe it doesn’t need to.

Artistry: **** Fun: *** Strangeness: ***

Trouble Every Day – (Claire Denis) I’m really glad I have a chance to say something nice about Claire Denis, especially after being possibly the only person to dislike “35 Shots of Rum” when I saw it at SLIFF last year (so it is fitting that her oft-ignored mainstream-maligned “The Intruder” is amongst my all time favorites). With “Trouble Every Day” Denis made an unlikely entry into the vampire genre, but characteristically reinvented everything. By rhythmically alternating between several disturbing subplots featuring an inspired cast (Vincent Gallo, Beatrice Dalle, Tricia Vessey and Alex Descas) and a lot of oblique imagery, Denis weaves a Lynchian nightmare dense with atmosphere and allegory. The power of any given scene is inversely proportional to the amount of talking that occurs, so it’s fortunate that much of the film is near wordless. The soundtrack, not to mention the cannibalistic rape scenes, haunted me for weeks after viewing.

Artistry: ***** Fun: * Strangeness: ****

Vampire Ferat – (Juraj Herz) When I learned that Czech New Wave iconoclast Juraj Herz (The Cremator) had a made a horror movie about a vampire sports car starring Dagmar Havlova (16 years before she became the First Lady of the Czech Republic), I knew I had to see it no matter what. That said, going without subtitles was a tough slog and though the film is more conventional than his gothic burlesque “Morgiana,” it certainly wasn’t as easy to follow as, say, John Carpenter’s “Christine” (if you know where I can get subtitles, please link me in the comments section!). From what I could gather in-film and online the car is fueled by blood it sucks from the driver’s foot whenever the acceleration pedal is pressed. A hapless doctor turned detective (played by director Jiri Menzel) investigates the enigmatic car company Ferat (as in Nosferatu), run by an evil lesbian kingpin (queenpin?), after his ambulance-driving nurse become addicted to racing the titular vampire vehicle. Highlights include the hand-drawn opening credits, the brooding industrial soundtrack and a delightfully gory dream sequence. Herz admits that the best scenes were all destroyed by the censors.

Artistry: ** Fun: ** Strangeness: ****

Movies with Colors in Their Titles

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 04:32:00 +0000

I've made three more film quizzes for you to take over at Sporcle, this time based around a color theme:

Warm colors:

http://www.sporcle.com/games/FilmWalrus/ColorsWarm

Cool colors:

http://www.sporcle.com/games/FilmWalrus/ColorsCool

Grayscale:

http://www.sporcle.com/games/FilmWalrus/ColorsGrayscale

There are about 60 films in each.

Enjoy!

Oh, and keep me updated on your scores in the comment section (for bragging rights). I think the previous set was brutally hard (intensionally), but I expect people will do better on this batch.

Movie Lists and Sporcle Quizzes

noreply@blogger.com (FilmWalrus) — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 20:33:00 +0000

Pathetically enough, two posts in the same month is now a flurry of activity for me. But while I haven't been writing much, I haven't stopped making an excessive number of lists.

Katie recently introduced me to Sporcle, a site that hosts an easy to use toolkit for generating user-made online quizzes. I was immediately addicted. We stayed up to about 4am our first night of playing around on it.

I'm made four movie quizzes so far, and will probably do more as the whim strikes me. Here they are:

101 Time-Travel Movies - And yes, I have seen most of them. And yes, I am that obsessed.

Directors by Signature or Trademark - How well do you know your auteurs?

Giallo Titles by Synonym (e.g. "The Feline with the Nephrite Peepers" for "The Cat with the Jade Eyes")

War Films by War - From the Crimean War to the Cambodian Civil War, from ancient Rome to the contemporary Middle East, humanity has had a terrible history of bloodshed and a wonderful tradition of films about them, but can you name titles that span almost 50 different conflicts?

Exactly Why has also entered the fray with:

H. P. Lovecraft Films

Horror Films by and Tagline

Enjoy!

Lastly, I do want to mention that I've happily sifted through a lot of "Best of the Decade" lists over the last few months, but good or bad most have been pretty predictable. That's why I was really glad to see Filmlinc's ruthlessly highbrow, unabashedly challenging Top 150 Films of the Decade.

Two films by Apichatpong Weerasethakul in the top ten? 8 Taiwanese New Wave films including at least one I've openly disparaged? No Batman or Lord of the Rings? And yet this is a list with something to say, with material worth seeing and worth discussing. Innovative films, gutsy filmmakers and expansive ideas are well represented in a way that the box office, the Oscars and the majority of our media just doesn't cover. I've got nearly a third of the list still to see and I'm really excited to track them down!

Not nearly as good or consistent, but still on the right train of thought is Slant Magazine's list. It has the added advantage of short reviews and is more than capable of furnishing some recommendations.