From the Front Row

On "Star Trek Into Darkness"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 23 May 2013 00:28:00 +0000

There are elements to like here — a cameo appearance by Leonard Nimoy as old Spock is one of the film's brief highlights, but they only serve as a reminder of better times and better films. As much as I wanted to like it, it just felt so wrong, so lifeless, so disappointing, as if everyone involved was just going through the motions, playing "Star Trek" dress-up but ignoring the true essence of what they're trying to embody.

Click here to read my full review.

On "The Great Gatsby"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sat, 11 May 2013 02:34:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

"Gatsby" isn't all about style. It is, after all, based on what is arguably the great American novel, and Luhrmann does not forsake the story's more serious roots. He uses the emptiness of the spectacle before us to echo the emptiness of Gatsby's own life, a seemingly never-ending sea of parties thrown in service of the one thing that money cannot buy him. When the time comes for the story to become serious, Luhrmann pulls back and allows the performances of Leonardo DiCaprio as the wounded and mysterious Gatsby, Tobey Maguire as the naive young Nick and Carey Mulligan as the flighty and confused Daisy to speak for themselves.

Click here to read my full review.

On "Iron Man 3"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 03 May 2013 03:16:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

Black takes us away from the "Rock 'em, Sock 'em" robots aesthetic of the first two "Iron Man" films and gives us something that is a bit more of a battle of the minds. Black also stages some of the series' most bruising action sequences, topping anything we've seen in the last two films and rivaling the large-scale destruction of "The Avengers." While Stark's mental state after the events at that film remain underdeveloped (they're more of a convenient plot point than character development), the film manages to portray a world of uncertainty and angst while still delivering something fun and entertaining.

Click here to read my full review.

Blu-ray Review | "The Hunchback of Notre Dame"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 01 May 2013 21:25:00 +0000

While they may not completely ignore its existence like the more infamous Song of the South, The Hunchback of Notre Dame has always felt a bit like the red-headed stepchild of the Disney musicals.

It's not hard to see why. Beyond the oft-overlooked Black Cauldron, Hunchback is perhaps Disney's darkest animated work. It's a strange choice for an animated musical to be sure. Victor Hugo's classic novel is a labyrinthine exploration of social standards, sexual desire, religious hypocrisy, and genocide. For Disney to tackle such a decidedly grown up work was a tall order, and while its thematic content was severely watered down, it remains surprisingly present.

Sure, Disney's Hunchback ends on a much more upbeat note than did Hugo's novel, in which basically everyone died. But how many Disney film's have villains that are motivated purely by an insatiable sexual desire for the movie's heroine?

Frollo (memorably voiced by the late Tony Jay), is perhaps one of Disney's most frightening villains. Unlike many Disney villains, Frollo isn't seeking power so much as he is trying desperately to hang onto it. A ruthless judge, he seeks to wipe out Gypsies from Paris, a group he sees as a menace that must be destroyed. He also greatly desires the Gypsy Esmerelda (Demi Moore), a feeling that is in direct conflict with his hatred of her race. His young ward, Quasimodo (Tom Hulce), has been locked away in the bell tower of Notre Dame because of his appearance, and the film deals very much with ideas of beauty and social acceptance. That makes Quasi a unique character in the Disney canon, most of whose lead characters are flawless. It also features one of Alan Menken's best scores, featuring gothic choirs and Latin chants, with memorable songs that explore deeper themes than the average Disney film. Frollo's song, "Hellfire," is especially strong, and pushes the boundaries of the film's G-rating with its images of a scantily clad Esmerelda tempting Frollo from his fireplace.

These elements probably helped seal the fate of Disney's 90s hand-drawn musical phase. Only two more would be produced, Hercules and Mulan, but by then the nail had been hammered in the coffin and the world was moving toward CG animation. None of them had reached the heights of Beauty and the Beast or The Lion King, but despite that, Hunchback remains one of the Mouse House's strongest works. Its Blu-ray release is long overdue, and while packaging it with its wholly unnecessary sequel may be a questionable decision, how else are they going to get people to buy the second one? The Blu-ray transfer is superb, showcasing some of the most jaw-dropping hand drawn animation Disney ever produced (Notre Dame is exquisitely rendered), and the packaging is attractive, even if the special features remain disappointingly scant. I wish Disney would quit treating Hunchback as a minor film, because it is anything but. It is a great paradox, a film denied commercial success because of its darker themes, but a film that succeeds artistically for those very reasons. The Hunchback of Notre Dame remains a sort of lost Disney masterpiece, underappreciated for the great work that it really is.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

Now available on Blu-ray and DVD.

Blu-ray Review | "A Man Escaped"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 22:43:00 +0000

There are few films in the history of cinema that can claim to be as suspenseful or as nail-biting as Robert Bresson's 1956 masterpiece, A Man Escaped.

Based on a true story, which Bresson claims not to have embellished or enhanced in any way, A Man Escaped follows the exploits of Fontaine (François Leterrier), a French resistance fighter who is captured and imprisoned by the Nazis in occupied France during World War II. The reality of the story, as it turns out, is somewhat different from what we see on screen (the story of André Devigny, on which the film is based, ends on a less upbeat note), but Bresson indeed pares down the tale to its most essential elements.

Bresson had no use for the cinematic conventions of the time, which he felt created an atmosphere of excess and stifled the film's sense of realism.

François Leterrier as Fontaine in A MAN ESCAPED.
Courtesy of The Criterion Collection.

Most of all, Bresson completely rejected the idea of acting, choosing instead to hire non-actors to play the roles. He felt that the very idea of acting was antithetical to cinema, betraying falsehood where the director sought to find truth. In A Man Escaped, Bresson casually observes Fontaine's methodical preparations to escape from prison, free from any cumbersome subplots or unnecessary dialogue. This is perhaps cinema in its purest form, freed from unnecessary accouterments and embellishments, and the result is absolutely riveting. The audience is completely glued to Fontaine's every move, Leterrier's performance is completely unencumbered by the business of acting. He just is, and that is what makes A Man Escaped so thoroughly fascinating.

François Leterrier as Fontaine in A MAN ESCAPED.
Courtesy of The Criterion Collection.

Bresson's sparse style may not work in every setting (I've never been a big fan of The Trial of Joan of Arc), but here it attains an almost spiritual level. Fontaine's preparations for escape are so focused, so deeply driven by a desire for freedom, that it is almost as if he is on a divine quest. That feeling of providence is further reinforced by Fontaine's unwittingly interrupting his new neighbor's suicide attempt as he tries to communicate with him. Bresson has always had a certain fascination with spiritual matters, even when those elements aren't explicitly written on the surface. As such, A Man Escaped becomes a sort of prayer for freedom, a meditation on miracles, and a study of the deep and abiding human desire for freedom.

Criterion's Blu-ray transfer of the film is simply stunning, both crisp and cinematic. There are plenty of supplements celebrating Bresson, featuring iconic devotees like Louis Malle, Andrei Tarkovsky, Paul Schrader, and Bruno Dumont, as well as analyzation from David Bordwell and Kristen Thompson. This is, without a doubt, one of the greatest films ever made, a film both thrilling and meditative, that should serve as a textbook for modern filmmakers on how to create and sustain suspense. It is an essential addition to every cinephile's collection.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

SPECIAL FEATURES INCLUDE:

New 2K digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray edition
“Bresson: Without a Trace,” a 1965 episode of the television program Cinéastes de notre temps in which the director gives his first on-camera interview
The Road to Bresson, a 1984 documentary featuring interviews with filmmakers Louis Malle, Paul Schrader, and Andrei Tarkovsky
The Essence of Forms, a documentary from 2010 in which collaborators and admirers of Bresson’s, including actor François Leterrier and director Bruno Dumont, share their thoughts about the director and his work
Functions of Film Sound, a new visual essay on the use of sound in A Man Escaped, with text by film scholars David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson
Trailer
New English subtitle translation
PLUS: A booklet featuring an essay by film scholar Tony Pipolo

On "Oblivion"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 20:04:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

It all makes for an enthralling visceral experience, but Kosinski delivers more than just summer movie eye-candy. He keeps the audience guessing, delivering twists and turns that actually surprise. This is a modern sci-fi film that flirts with greatness, delivering edge of your seat entertainment without sacrificing good writing and strong concepts.

Click here to read my full review.

Theatre Review | "My Fair Lady" at Triad Stage

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:14:00 +0000

For most, the mention of My Fair Lady brings to mind images of Audrey Hepburn singing "I Could Have Danced All Night," or drawling "the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain" to Rex Harrison.

Watching the new production at Greensboro's Triad Stage, however, one might easily forget having ever seen the Academy Award winning film version, as each player slips seamlessly into the iconic roles, making them wholly and completely their own.

The plot is, of course, the stuff of musical theatre legend. Professor Henry Higgins (Michael McKenzie, who recently appeared in the Netflix original series, House of Cards) bets fellow linguist, Colonel Pickering (Bill Raulerson), that he can turn Cockney flower girl Eliza Doolittle (Julia Osborne) into a proper lady in six months time. Eliza's language skills, however, turn out to be more difficult to improve than Henry expected, but over the course of those six months, the two adversaries will forge a much deeper connection than either of them could have ever imagined.

Michael McKenzie (as Henry Higgins), Julia Osborne (as Eliza Doolittle) and Bill Raulerson (as Colonel Pickering).
Photo by VanderVeen Photographers.

The leads are all spectacular - Osborne is completely winning as Eliza,d and McKenzie walks the fine line between lovable cad and complete jerk that is required of Henry Higgins. Ultimately, however, the show really belongs to the supporting players, most especially the incomparable Rosie McGuire as Mrs. Pearce, Higgins' faithful housekeeper, and Gordon Joseph Weiss in the hilarious dual role of Eliza's father and Henry's mother. Weiss manages to transition between the drunken two-step of Mr. Doolittle to the haughty megalomania of Mrs. Higgins with great comic skill. Both are Triad Stage regulars, and they shine here again as always, walking away with the scene in their pocket every time they appear onstage. Nick Cartell also brings the house down as Eliza's starry-eyed suitor, Freddy Eynsford-Hill, whose rendition of "On the Street Where You Live" is a show-stopping highlight. Even without the aid of a full orchestra (the actors are accompanied by two pianists), Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe's immortal score really soars.

The folks at Triad have also pulled out all the stops with the set and costume design. Lindsay McWilliams' costumes are absolutely stunning, especially in the Ascot scene. The ladies' dresses and their complimentary colors (not to mention Eliza's epic hat) are a dream, and the staircase that descends to the stage looks like something out of Gone with the Wind. As a side note, casting director Cindi Rush also worked on Patrick Wang's magnificent film, In the Family, so Triad really isn't kidding around here.

For all the glamour of the sumptuous production, what really makes My Fair Lady shine is the dedication of its cast and crew, and the direction of Bryan Conger. Musical theatre is often very broad and presentational, but this cast manages to find the truth in their roles in a way that is very rare indeed, reminding us that this isn't so much a traditional love story as it is a story of unlikely friendship. It is at the complete opposite of the theatrical spectrum from their production of Tennessee Williams' Kingdom of Earth back in February, but its no less accomplished. In fact, it's an absolute joy to watch. Triad Stage has brought a classic musical to thrilling life, brushing away the cobwebs to deliver a truly dazzling production, and in so doing, cementing their status as one of the premiere highlights of Greensboro's downtown nightlife.

My Fair Lady runs through May 5, 2013 at Triad Stage in Greensboro, with tickets starting at $10. For more information or to purchase tickets, visit www.triadstage.com or call the box office at 336.272.0160.

Blu-ray Review | "Killing Them Softly"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 04:43:00 +0000

The 2008 financial crisis has been influencing filmmakers almost since the moment in came to light five years ago. From documentaries like Inside Job and Collapse to narrative films like Arbitrage and Margin Call. In Killing Them Softly, based on George V. Higgins' novel, Cogan's Trade, director Andrew Dominick set out to craft a more symbolic take on the financial crisis, and ended up making perhaps the most blatant of them all.

Brad Pitt stars as Jackie Cogan, a mob enforcer who is called in to hunt down two amateur crooks who rob a mob controlled poker den. Even the mob, it seems, has fallen on hard times, and while the mob leaders behave like corporate committee concerned with public image, Cogan gets down to business. The closer he gets to his goal, however, the messier and more complicated the whole situation gets.

All the while, Dominick laces the scenes with sound bytes from 2008, using the words of Presidents Bush and Obama to draw clear parallels of the 2008 economic crisis with the acts of political thugs and criminals. It's about as subtle as a sledgehammer, with Dominick bashing us over the head with heavy handed political symbolism that's so in your face that it's almost laughable. It's a tough sit, because it feels like Dominick is preaching to us at every turn, constantly reminding us of his central theme without trusting the story to speak for itself. It's interesting that the director of the magnificent Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford followed it up with something completely lacking in subtlety, but Killing Them Softly is a cynical, obvious piece of work that leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

There are some fine performances here, especially from the supporting cast, which includes Richard Jenkins, James Gandolfini, Ray Liotta, and Scoot McNairy. The Weinstein Company's Blu-ray release is pretty bare bones, with only a few deleted scenes and a cursory "making of" featurette that offers no insight into the film. The film maintains its grungy darkness in HD, and Dominick's visual flair remains striking, even if the film itself reads more like an angry undergrad poli-sci essay. The craft is there, but the ideas are disappointingly simplistic, painting in broad strokes when it could have been so much more pointed using a finer brush.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)

KILLING THEM SOFTLY | Directed by Andrew Dominick | Stars Brad Pitt, Richard Jenkins, James Gandolfini, Ray Liotta, Scoot McNairy, Scott Mendelsohn | Rated R for violence, sexual references, pervasive language, and some drug use | Now available on Blu-ray and DVD.

You Really Do Only Live Once

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sat, 06 Apr 2013 04:48:00 +0000

Two days before he died, Roger Ebert wrote "I'll be able at last to do what I've always fantasized about doing: reviewing only the movies I want to review." As it turns out, he never got to. But I was struck by that bittersweet desire to finally have the freedom to only watch the films one wants to watch. And I realized I wanted that too.

I've been writing professionally as a film critic for nine years, and have been running From the Front Row for nearly seven. During that time, I have written roughly 450 printed reviews for The Dispatch (approximately 225,000 words), and 2,454 blog posts. What started out as a hobby borne out of my love of film has become my life.

While I minored in film studies in college and always dreamed of becoming a film critic, it wasn't my only dream. And what was once something I did for fun has become, well, work. I do get paid for my print work for The Dispatch, but as of yet From the Front Row does not bring in any money, even though I treat it like it does. I have been a one man staff here at my site, and despite a guest post here and there from some of my wonderful correspondents, I have tried to review everything myself. Every screening, every screener, everything that comes across my desk I genuinely try to carve out time to review. And I just can't do that anymore.

As I watched Francois Ozon's In the House tonight, a teacher played by Fabrice Luchini admonishes his students to "make time for books." I want to make time for books. I want to take the time to watch classics I've never had time for. I want to lay in the grass with my girlfriend and read Shakespeare. I want to explore the Criterion Collection. I want to cook. I want to act more. I want to spend time with friends. I want to travel. I want to cut back on writing about other people's art and create my own. And I want to focus on returning to school. In short, I want to take a step back from reviewing.

I've realized I don't have to watch every new release. I don't need to stay on top of every film that gets the slightest bit of acclaim. From now on, I only want to review films I really want to see. Life is too short to waste time on a lot of the drivel I've wasted time on. I will continue my weekly reviews for The Dispatch, and I will continue to cover Blu-ray and DVD releases of old and current films that interest me, but you will see a significant reduction in reviews of new films at From the Front Row. There will be enough new content here to maintain my status with the various critics groups I belong to, but I want to take some time to watch films I don't have to write about later. And if the notion strikes me, I may write about them. Or I may not. The bottom line is I've been stressing out to keep From the Front Row current all by myself for far too long, and the pressure has been completely self inflected. So I'm going to take a step back and live my life away from a screen for a while.

I'm not abandoning my pet project completely. From the Front Row is not dead - far from it. But I want this to become a passion project again, not an obligation. I will be choosier about what I review - and I want to reconnect with why I fell in love with film in the first place. I will still log capsule reviews of every film I watch on my Letterboxd account, so I'll never be too far away. But Ebert's death has reminded that life really is short, and I don't want to miss out on any of it. Thank you all for all of your support over the years, and I hope you'll stick with me as From the Front Row enters this new phase of existence.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a book to read.

Review | "Evil Dead"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 17:41:00 +0000

It has become somewhat of a trend for modern horror films to try and out-shock each other. From the Saw series to Hostel, it is almost as if filmmakers are trying to one-up each other in the gore department.

It's a shame that, in the process, many have forgotten what it actually means to be scary. Evil Dead is being advertised as "the most terrifying film you will ever experience." And it isn't, not by a longshot. But it might be the most disgusting.

Even that is pushing it. There have been far more disturbing films before - Cannibal Holocaust, A Serbian Film, I Spit on Your Grave, The Human Centipede II, just to name a few. But with the exception of The Human Centipede II, all of those films managed to achieve something that Evil Dead does not - they were truly terrifying. And while they remain controversial even today for their shockingly graphic nature, they have endured because the filmmakers weren't just grossing you out, they were getting under your skin in a way few films ever have.

As someone who wasn't a fan of Sam Raimi's original 1981 cult hit, I wasn't particularly offended by the idea of a remake. The cardinal sin of Evil Dead isn't that it's a remake, it's that ultimately it's pretty dull. The plot is still the same, five twenty somethings comverge on an old cabin out in the woods to stage an intervention for a friend who nearly overdosed on cocaine. Once there, they discover the Book of the Dead in the basement, and after reading it unleash demons who begin to systematically possess and destroy them one by one. Coming on the heels of Cabin in the Woods, Evil Dead seems almost goofy in comparison now, after its cliches have been so thoroughly deconstructed.

And then there's the gore. Evil Dead is absolutely soaked in it, somehow believing that grossing out an audience is the same thing as scaring them. The film is consistently trying to top itself - needles are stabbed through eyeballs, arms are cut off with electric knives, tongues sliced in half, limbs broken and twisted off, but for what purpose? It's as if director Fede Alvarez is standing behind the camera saying "oh you think that's sick? Watch this!" But it lacks the scare factor to back up its brazen display of grotesque imagery. Every "scare" is underlined with an outrageously overwrought music cue, as if Alvarez doesn't trust himself enough to be scare the audience, so he overemphasizes every moment to the point of silliness. Its sadism isn't even backed up by any real teeth like the work of Alexandre Aja, it's just gross rather than horrifying. Throw in some bizarrely offbeat performances that almost seem to be straight out of a horror movie parody, and you have the mess that is Evil Dead. Gore aficionados will certainly find a lot to enjoy here, but if you like a little meat with your blood, you'll find it to be a bit empty. It's not even bad or campy enough to be enjoyable B-grade horror. It's just another bland gore-fest that plays like the reheated remains of far better films that have come before.

GRADE - ★½ (out of four)

EVIL DEAD | Directed by Fede Alvarez | Stars Jane Levy, Shiloh Fernandez, Lou Taylor Pucci, Jessica Lucas, Elizabeth Blackmore | Rated R for strong bloody violence and gore, some sexual content and language | Opens today, 4/5, in theaters nationwide.

Review | "Upstream Color"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 05:59:00 +0000

I see a lot of movies in my line of work, far more than I ever get a chance to review here. But out of the thousands upon thousands of films I've seen, I've never seen one quite like Shane Carruth's Upstream Color.

2013 has been a banner year for filmmakers crafting intensely singular, uncompromising works of art, such as Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Verena Paravel's Leviathan, Harmony Korine's Spring Breakers, and Bruno Dumont's Hors Satan. It is easy to slip into hyperbole when discussing these films, but sometimes words fail. Which may be a hoary cliche when discussing film, I don't know how many times I've rolled my eyes at another breathless declaration that "you've never seen anything like this before," when in all actuality we've seen it far too often. But in the case of a film like Upstream Color, words really do fail.

Amy Seimetz and Shane Carruth in a scene from UPSTREAM COLOR, an erbp release.
Photo courtesy of erbp.

The beauty of it is that I think Carruth (Primer) actually designed it that way. You'll find very little dialogue in the film, at least of the variety that drives a typical plot. This is a film of textures, of sounds and feelings; any attempt to force or discern a plotline will only result in a headache. It's not that kind of film, and it wasn't meant to be.

The plot synopsis is the most simple of outlines - "A man and woman are drawn together, entangled in the lifecycle of an ageless organism. Identity becomes an illusion as they struggle to assemble the loose fragments of wrecked lives." You'll find no further explanation for the film from Carruth beyond those two sentences. But in the tradition of the early avant-garde filmakers like Bunuel, Kirsanoff, and Dulac, Carruth wants us to feel the film. As Bunuel once said, "film is like an involuntary imitation of a dream." And never has that been as true as it here. Upstream Color feels like a dream, or at the very least, a fevered hallucination. The kind that, as it begins to fade upon waking, leaves you wondering if you had actually seen what you thought you saw, even as you struggle to hold on to its finer details.

A scene from UPSTREAM COLOR, an erbp release.
Photo courtesy of erbp.

There are pigs, there are mind controlling worms, there is Thoreau's "Walden," all surrounding two lost souls who are inexorably bound by shared trauma. As they try to piece their lives back together after a seemingly random attack, memories of the past seem to collide with infinite possibility, refracting into multiple outcomes of the same scenario. The results are haunting, disorienting, and engrossing, at equal turns romantic and horrific. Even the simple act of making gromits becomes something strangely transcendent. As I mentioned before, the use of double exposures, along with its overall tone, make it a direct descendant of the early surrealists, with a dash of Lynch and Malick thrown in for good measure.

But Carruth has a voice all his own. Not only did he write, direct, and star in the film, he also composed its lovely, enthralling score as well. Upstream Color is a singular beauty of a film, a work that I have a feeling critics and film historians will be discussing and writing about for years to come. It's a gorgeous, utterly intoxicating Möbius strip, a wholly original work of art that defies simple categorization and achieves something few modern films ever do - a true sense of cinematic discovery.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

UPSTREAM COLOR | Directed by Shane Carruth | Stars Shane Carruth, Amy Seimetz | Not rated | Opens today, 4/5, in NYC.

On "Jurassic Park 3D"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 04:18:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

Even for those who, like me, don't particularly care for 3D, seeing "Jurassic Park" on the big screen again is worth it. The t-rex is louder than ever, the brachiosaurs more graceful, the velociraptors more terrifying – and now the film will be able to be discovered by a whole new generation of wide-eyed children who never got to experience it the way it was meant to be seen — sitting in a darkened theater, watching in wonder as all their childhood dreams come to life on the big screen.

Click here to read my full review.

Review | "Blancanieves"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Snow White has been very in vogue over the past year or so. I feel like I've already written these words several times, either in reviews of Mirror, Mirror, or Snow White and the Huntsman, but the story doesn't seem to be going away any time soon.

It is interesting then, that after the aforementioned Hollywood efforts, and the hit ABC television series, Once Upon a Time, that the best of the lot is far and away Pablo Berger's Blancanieves, which not only encompasses the recent popularity of the Snow White tale, but the rather surprising resurgence of silent film. I thought the critical and popular success of The Artist would be a one-off fluke, a novelty as quickly embraced as it would be forgotten. But something has taken hold in the minds of filmmakers, a reawakening perhaps of the freedom that silent film represents. Miguel Gomes embraced the medium in the second half of his remarkable film, Tabu, which while not fully silent, hearkened back to the pioneering spirit of the silent auteurs.

The Artist, on the other hand, felt more like imitation than emulation, a pleasant re-creation of a lost artform that felt completely false. As charming as it is, it felt like a gimmick, mimicking the style of silent comedies but failing to capture their essence. That is what is so refreshing about Blancanieves. Berger clearly gets it. He isn't just playing silent film dress up like a little kid putting on a Charlie Chaplin costume and dancing around with a cane. He takes the silent medium and uses its artistic possibilities to his advantage, growing within the medium and pushing it in new and thrilling directions. In so doing it feels more like an authentic silent film than anything else we've seen in quite some time (not counting the films of Guy Maddin, who will always be the undisputed modern silent master).

Blancanieves also updates the Snow White tale into something a bit unusual. Set in Spain during the 1920s, the film takes place in the world of bullfighting. Our Snow White is Carmen (Macarena García), whose father, Antonio Villalta (Daniel Giménez Cacho), is the most famous matador in all of Spain. When he is paralyzed during his final fight, and his wife dies in childbirth soon after, he is seduced by a gold-digging nurse named Encarna (Maribel Verdu), eager to gain access to his vast fortune. She keeps the invalid Villalta secluded in his bedroom in his expansive mansion, and banishes young Carmen to the stables, where she is little more than a servant in her own home, her father believing her dead along his with his late wife.

While Encarna busies herself spending Villalta's fortune on flashy clothes and wild flings with other men, Carmen sneaks into the house one day and discovers her father, whom she believed to be dead, is still alive, and the two form a strong bond together in secret. When Encarna learns of this she sets out to have them both killed. Carmen escapes, of course, and ends up with a traveling band of bullfighting dwarves, a novelty circus act that she is eager to join. Robbed of her memory, she no longer knows who she is. So the dwarves christen her Blancanieves (Snow White), after the legendary fairy tale. Soon the whole country has heard of the female matador, Blancanieves, carrying out the legacy of a father she can no longer remember. It isn't long before Encarna gets wind of this new bullfighting sensation, and becomes determined to do away with Carmen and seal her hold on the family fortune once and for all.

It's a refreshingly bold and unique take on a tale that has very nearly been run into the ground, but Berger makes it feel fresh and new again. Even with its silent surroundings, Blancanieves feels as vibrantly contemporary as much as something out of another era. It certainly captures the look and feel of the silent era, complete with gorgeous black and white cinematography by Kiko de la Rica and a lush score by Alfonso Vilallonga. Not to mention the fact that Maribel Verdu is far and away the most terrifying of the evil queens without ever saying a word. But like the very best silent films, it never feels confined by its lack of dialogue. Berger finds a kind of artistic liberation in the exploration of film as a purely visual medium, and the result is the kind of rare cinematic treat that makes the heart beat faster at the recognition of something truly magical in the way that only movies can provide.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

BLANCANIEVES | Directed by Pablo Berger | Stars Maribel Verdu, Macarena Garcia, Daniel Giménez Cacho | Not rated | Opens tomorrow, 3/29, in NY and LA.

On "Spring Breakers"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 05:08:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

"Spring Breakers" should not be mistaken for an empty exercise in excess; it is by no means a celebration of the lewdness it depicts. It is a sweeping condemnation of that very emptiness, of the soul-crushing effects of the "if it feels good, do it" lifestyle. Alien's eerie, oft-repeated voice-over mantra of "spring break … spring break forever" spoken over increasingly nasty provocations becomes its own kind of rebuke of a culture that has embraced extreme over indulgence and a chilling premonition of its lasting effects.

Click here to read my full review.

Blu-ray Review | "Lincoln"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 05:53:00 +0000

Years from now, people will look back on 2012 and wonder why Steven Spielberg's Lincoln didn't win the Oscar for Best Picture.

True, I was pulling for Michael Haneke's Amour to take home the gold, and I still think it was the "best" of the nine nominees. But Lincoln just feels like a classic, the kind of film that people will still be talking about and revering in the decades to come.

It's one of Spielberg's most grown-up films, a restrained film of language and ideas rather than action and emotions. Spielberg allows the emotion to flow from the dialogue, dialing back his instinct to overemphasize for something far more subtle and affecting. I've seen the film twice since my first screening back in October, and it has only grown in my estimation since. It's a film of great riches, with dialogue to be relished and mulled over, and it remains a staggeringly immersive experience. There is so much here to absorb that it demands repeat viewings.

The biggest story surrounding the film, of course, is Daniel Day-Lewis' Academy Award winning performance. In my original review I wrote:

The soft-spoken, slump-shouldered man we see in "Lincoln" is far more approachable, an affable man with a folksy charm and a love of rambling stories that would often send his aides and cabinet members running. When the film starts, Lincoln is already near the end of his life, but even so one can see Lincoln's evolution into a tired mane with sunken features, withered by the long years of war and the stress of governing a divided nation. It's a haunting performance that is one of Lewis' finest in a career filled with towering achievements, proving yet again that he is arguably our greatest living actor.

It's difficult to write about Day-Lewis' portrayal of Lincoln without slipping into hyperbole, but it really is that kind of performance. Some of the best moments in the new Blu-ray come during the "Living with Lincoln" featurette, which explores the actors' process in surprising depth. While Day-Lewis' own, more mysterious process remains appropriately mythic and unexplored, the disc showcases Spielberg as something he hasn't really been known for as much throughout his career - a director of actors. While his filmography is littered with great performances throughout the years, one doesn't normally think of Spielberg as an actor's director as much as a populist entertainer, but here we see a new side of him. As an actor, I found the insights from Sally Field, Joseph Gordon Levitt, Tommy Lee Jones, and others to be particularly insightful, as they discuss how they researched their roles, got into character, and behaved on a set that discouraged talk of modern day trivialities in order to preserve a sense of reverence for the subject.

Also of interest is the "In Lincoln's Footsteps" featurette, which looks at the editing, sound design, and music of the film. Sound designer Bett Burtt discusses how he used actual sounds from a watch that once belonged to Lincoln and a clock that once adorned his office, giving the film a spiritual link to the president that actually adds a greater depth to the viewing experience. Those are the best kind of special features, the kind that deepen your appreciation of the film rather than acting as an extended advertisement for a film you've already bought, wherein the cast and crew throw hollow accolades at each other (admittedly a bit like the rather superfluous "A Journey to Lincoln" featurette on disc one).

The film looks gorgeous, of course. Janusz Kaminski's lovely cinematography, with its gas-lit interiors and natural, almost heavenly lighting, really pops on Blu-ray. It is a crisp, clear transfer that really highlights his expert use of light and shadow. While not as showy, perhaps, as has been some of Spielberg's other films, the work in in Lincoln is some of the best he has ever produced. This was clearly a labor of love for all involved, and its shows. The respect of the cast and crew for each other, for their director, and ultimately for their subject is evident at every turn, and I am confident that this film will live on much like the man himself.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

Available today, March 26, on Blu-ray and DVD.

Blu-ray Review | "The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 01:32:00 +0000

Considered by some to be the greatest British film ever made, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp has at long last been given the Blu-ray treatment it deserves by The Criterion Collection.

Known jointly as The Archers, Powell and Pressburger's filmography together is staggering, remaining nearly unparalleled in the history of cinema. The Red Shoes, Black Narcissus, A Matter of Life and Death, I Know Where I'm Going, A Canturbury Tale, its an impressive oeuvre that any filmmaker would be envious of. While I might personally give the edge to The Red Shoes, it would be hard to argue with The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp as their finest achievement.

Released in 1943 at the height of World War II, the film very nearly didn't get made at all. The British war office refused to release Powell and Pressburger's first choice for the title role, Laurence Olivier, which lead them to Roger Livesey, who was something of a rival of Olivier's at the time.

Blu-ray capture courtesy of DVD Beaver.

The film is loosely based on an old British cartoon character, an aging, rotund military brass with a giant gray walrus mustache who was always portrayed as a kind of buffoon, a clueless member of an aging high command with little grasp of how the modern word works. But The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is no comedy, nor is it meant to be satirical in anyway. Certainly Major General Clive Candy, the Colonel Blimp of the story, looks the part, and has become disconnected to modernity in his old age, but rather than treat him as an object of ridicule, they treat him as a human being as deserving of respect and dignity. When the film begins, we are in the heat of WWII (which, at the time of the film's release, would have been the present day), and Candy has ordered a military drill for the home guard to begin at midnight. Against orders, they invade his headquarters and take him prisoner, claiming that the enemy wouldn't wait until midnight, so why should they? Candy is aghast at such insolence and disregard for the rules of war.

The film then flashes back 40 years. It is 1902, and Candy has just returned from the Boer War. No longer the spluttering old man pontificating about the rules of war, Candy is a dashing young war hero who doesn't have much use for authority himself. He's a fun loving prankster, whose jokes eventually lead him into a duel with a German soldier, Theo (Anton Walbrook), ends up becoming a lifelong friend (a thinly veiled representation of Powell's own friendship with the German Pressburger). It is in that duel that Candy gets a scar on his upper lip, leading him to grow the iconic mustache to cover it up. What follows is 40 years in the life of a soldier. His friendship with Theo, and his love for a woman he can't have (represented by three different women, all played by the ravishing Deborah Kerr). Along the way we discover how he became this cartoonish character, and find humanity deep within a man that the younger generation has failed to appreciate. He was, after all, just like them once upon a time. And The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp honors his lifetime of dedicated service.

Blu-ray capture courtesy of DVD Beaver.

There's something decidedly elegiac about the film. It's a heartbreaking study of aging and obsolescence in the face of modernity, but also a paean to a generation of heroes. Candy is facing an enemy he doesn't understand, an enemy that refuses to play by the rules and threatens to engulf the world. The world has indeed changed, but not for the better. Candy is a relic from a simpler time, but here he is not a man to be put out to pasture, he is a man to be honored and thanked, even as the world marches on. It is said that the film's view that strict adherence to traditional warfare would lose Britain the war cost Powell and Pressburger their knighthood. While not forbidden to make the film, they were strongly encouraged not to. It's interesting watching the film now, knowing that the British government considered the film unpatriotic, when nothing could be further than the truth. Candy's methods may be outdated but the film itself is a celebration of the British spirit.

Criterion's gorgeous Blu-ray presentation is absolutely stunning. They did a brilliant job with The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus, and Colonel Blimp is no different. In fact it's so clear that some of the excellent makeup work has become more apparent than it was on the DVD release. Powell and Pressburger have long been an inspiration to Martin Scorsese, who provides a loving introduction here, as well as a demonstration of the film's meticulous restoration. Thelma Schoonmaker, Powell's widow and Scorsese's longterm editor, also appears in a 2012 interview called "Optimism and Sheer Will." While most of the features are repeats from the original Criterion DVD release, the HD transfer is such a marked improvement that this is a must have disc. It's a sprawling and magisterial look at all of life's great loves, adventures, and follies. Old age awaits us all, and The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is a deeply moving look at the experiences that make us who we are.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

Special features:

New digital master from the Film Foundation’s 2012 4K restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray edition
Audio commentary featuring director Michael Powell and filmmaker Martin Scorsese
New video introduction by Scorsese A Profile of “The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp,” a documentary from 2000 Restoration demonstration, hosted by Scorsese
Optimism and Sheer Will, a 2012 interview with editor Thelma Schoonmaker Powell, Michael Powell’s widow
Gallery featuring rare behind-the-scenes production stills
Gallery tracing the history of David Low’s original Colonel Blimp cartoons
PLUS: A booklet featuring an essay by critic Molly Haskell

On "The Incredible Burt Wonderstone"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 23:36:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

If you know many magicians (which, strangely enough, I do), then "The Incredible Burt Wonderstone" may produce a few knowing chuckles, but the film itself is less than the sum of its parts. It fails to leave an impression, fading instead into a sea of similar comedies whose names I can barely remember. And like Burt himself, it's doubtful this will be remembered for very long either.

Click here to read my full review.

Review | "I Killed My Mother"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 22:05:00 +0000

It seems strange to be reviewing a film as a new release nearly 3 years after I originally saw it. 20 year old Canadian director Xavier Dolan's debut feature, I Killed My Mother, made the festival rounds back in 2009 and 2010, garnering quite a bit of attention for the up and coming filmmaker before being picked up for American distribution by Regent Releasing.

When financial problems hit Regent, I Killed My Mother became caught in a kind of distribution limbo, unreleased in the United States outside of festivals while Dolan's sophomore effort, Heartbeats, was released by IFC in 2011 and his third film, Laurence Anyways, prepares for US release this year from Breaking Glass Pictures.

Now, at long last, Dolan's first film comes to American screens thanks to the folks at Kino Lorber, who snatched up the rights from Regent after languishing for years in their back catalogue.

Xavier Dolan in I KILLED MY MOTHER.
Courtesy of Kino Lorber, Inc.

Revisiting the film three years later, having seen the films Dolan has made since, I was still bothered by some of the problems I had with it when I first saw it as part of the RiverRun Film Festival in 2010. I Killed My Mother is obviously a first feature, one that is beholden to its inspirations to an almost self-conscious degree. It is clear that Dolan took a great deal of inspiration from the work of directors like Wong Kar Wai and Pedro Almodovar, whose distinctive styles are written all over the film. Watching the film again, I came out humming the theme music from Wong's In the Mood for Love, which I'm sure is not the effect that Dolan intended. It is as if Dolan didn't quite trust his own style and voice enough yet to step away from the styles of his cinematic idols. Characters frequently walk in slow motion to the same driving waltz, a hallmark of Wong's most famous work, as well as its sequel, 2046. The vibrant color scheme invokes the less campy Almodovar of Talk to Her, and the formalist mise-en-scene even recalls Wes Anderson at times.

In fact, the mise-en-scene was perhaps my biggest initial issue with the film. Dolan's framing, so fussily formal in places, seems strangely sloppy in others. The dinner scenes between Dolan and his mother are especially off kilter, neither centered nor artfully asymmetrical, especially when compared to the style of the rest of the picture. All those criticisms aside, it is hard to ignore the raw urgency of this work. It is a guttural howl of a film, an anguished and deeply personal exploration of the complex relationship between gay teenager Antonin, (Dolan) and his loving but overbearing mother, Hélène (Anne Dorval). Dolan may not have fully developed his own directorial voice yet, but he uses the language of his forebears to convey a something starkly and disarmingly honest.

Xavier Dolan in I KILLED MY MOTHER.
Courtesy of Kino Lorber, Inc.

At 16, Antonin finds himself hating his mother. He hates the way she looks, the way she eats, the way she talks, everything about her irritates him. The two find themselves at odds about almost every single issue, few conversations go by that don't devolve into a shouting match. It would be easy to write of Antonin as just a spoiled kid, but there's a lot more going on here than that. Hélène clearly loves him, but is also unknowingly selfish in her own way. Neither seem to be willing to compromise, and so the love/hate relationship grows. After accidentally discovering that her son is gay before he has a chance to come out to her himself, she packs him off to boarding school, causing him to resent her even more. So deep seeded is his dislike for her, that when he is assigned to do a report for school on his parents' profession, he lies to the teacher, saying that his mother is dead.

Antonin does not literally kill his mother. The title is a figurative reference to his lie about her death. But perhaps because he was only 4 years older than his character at the time, Dolan delivers a remarkably nuanced exploration of the relationship between a boy and his mother. Right off the bat, he established himself as a talent to watch, displaying a wisdom and an instinct far greater than many directors who've had many more years of experience. There's something disarmingly true about I Killed My Mother, beneath the references to Wong and Almodovar, beneath its almost self-consciously stylish surface, that resonates beyond its characters' histrionics. Both boy and mother are deeply misunderstood. Both remain caught in a strange place between childhood and maturity, unable to live with each other, but yet needing each other more than they know. Dolan navigates tricky emotional waters with a wisdom beyond his years. It's a strong debut from one of cinema's most exciting young talents, and the chance to finally see where it all started shouldn't be missed.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

I KILLED MY MOTHER | Directed by Xavier Dolan | Stars Xavier Dolan, Anne Dorval, Francois Arnaud, Jun-Sang Yu | Not rated | In French w/English subtitles | Now playing in NYC.

Blu-ray Review | "This is 40"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 19:58:00 +0000

It still surprises me a bit that Judd Apatow's This is 40 got such mixed reviews. Many reviewers found it obnoxious and shrill. I thought that's what made it so beautifully human. It's messy, yes, but earnestly so. This is clearly a deeply personal work for Apatow, and it shows.

It my original review I said:

It's true that the characters can be shrill, whiny, selfish, and often just willfully ignorant of the other characters' problems and points of view. But so can anyone, and therein lies the beauty of Apatow's work. He makes raunchy comedies, certainly, but there is always something deeper at work in them that is exceedingly rare in this type of film. Critics often demand smarter comedies, but when one like this falls in our laps, why do we turn up our noses? This is 40 is an intelligently written, readily identifiable comedy that holds a mirror up to its audience in a way that could easily make many a little uncomfortable, and that's what makes it so terrific.

In revisiting the film, I have discovered that all of that remains true. This is 40 isn't the kind of comedy that loses its luster after all the laughs have been had, its the kind of film that continues to reveal itself in repeat viewings. Sure it's a bit too long, sure the daughters' performances aren't as polished as they could be. But that's part of what makes the film so vibrant. This is Apatow's life, a paean to all the things that make this life so gloriously messed up. Once you're past the laughs, you're free to explore the film's nuances, and there are certainly plenty. It is very easy for critics to sit back and pass judgement on Apatow and his family, but he's really wearing his heart on his sleeve here, and I find it very arrogant to look down on these people whose problems may hit too close to the mark. From my original review:

First world problems? Absolutely. But these are the kind of things people face every day, the natural ebb and flow of relationships that may seem trivial to the outside world, but make up the core of every day existence. Apatow has a keen eye for this sort of thing, and has established himself as a kind of voice of his generation. This is 40 cuts to the quick, but it's also very, very funny. Apatow manages to find humor in the stress and awkwardness of every day life, but he also finds the tenderness of familial love in a way that is free of cynicism or irony. I can see how some accuse it of being whiny or fixated on trivialities, but we're all guilty of such things. What This is 40 is, is brutally honest.

Universal's Blu-ray release treats the film pretty much like any other comedy. There are the standard gag reels (which, given this cast, are pretty funny), and line-o-ramas, in which the cast ad-libs endless variations of the same moment in the script. There's even a segment in which Triumph the Insult Comic Dog insults the cast, and gets in a few choice zingers. But the highlight is a line-o-rama that Albert Books gets all to himself. His deadpan improv delivery is jaw-dropping, and he spins out line after line of impressive comedy gold that one wonders how Apatow chose which ones to include in the final cut. Brooks is a comedic genius, and watching him work his magic is a pleasure.

There are actually a surprising amount of extras crammed into this 2 disc set, which also includes a DVD copy and a wholly unnecessary extended cut. It's been slammed for being too long as it is, let's not feed the sharks by making it longer. Still though, it's a fine film, and one of last year's best comedies. I hope it finds the audience on home video that it struggled to in theaters. It may be the sort-of sequel to the far more successful Knocked Up, but it's a much better film. Don't miss it.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

THIS IS 40 | Directed by Judd Apatow | Stars Leslie Mann, Paul Rudd, Maude Apatow, Iris Apatow, Albert Brooks, John Lithgow, Jason Segel, Melissa McCarthy | Rated R for sexual content, crude humor, pervasive language and some drug material | Available on Blu-ray and DVD Friday, March 22.

Blu-ray Review | "College"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 19:25:00 +0000

Sandwiched in his filmography between The General and Steamboat Bill, Jr., arguably the largest scale and most accomplished comedies of his career, Buster Keaton's College has the unenviable position of sitting in the shadows of his two greatest masterpieces.

While it is certainly a much lower key film than either of those two, College actually holds up remarkably well, showcasing Keaton's more subtle brand of humor, and standing out as one of his most accomplished smaller scale comedies.

As its title implies, College finds Buster Keaton graduating from high school and heading to college. A bookish nerd with no time for sports, Keaton's valedictorian address pooh-poohs the very idea of athletics, insisting that if young men wanted to make anything of themselves they should focus on developing their minds rather than their bodies.

Buster Keaton and Florence Turner as his mother in COLLEGE.
Courtesy of Kino Lorber.

Unfortunately for him, the girl he loves wants an athlete, not a scholar. So Buster follows her off to college, determined to prove to her that he's not as arrogant as he seems by trying every sport he can possibly think of. The results are predictably hilarious, with Keaton trying everything from baseball to discus (the baseball scene is especially inspired), before finally bumbling into a position on the rowing team, where he is finally able to combine mental acumen with physical skill in a thrilling race to the finish line.

College is a veritable showcase of Keaton's deadpan sight gags, with each pratfall and mishap made all the more funny by the actor's constantly stony visage. Naturally, Keaton is just playing yet another variation on the same character he always played, the hapless mama's boy who just can't seem to catch a break, but he was the best at it, and this is why. Even though age-wise he's not convincing as a brand new high school graduate, his guileless, awkward charm makes up for it. Although he was much less sentimental than his contemporary, Charlie Chaplin, Keaton displays an earnestness here that is possibly as close to sentimental as he ever got.

With the film's new Blu-ray release, Kino Lorber has finally finished out their impressive HD upgrades of Keaton's most famous features and shorts. It's truly an impressive collection, and the final installment doesn't disappoint. In addition to a strong, crisp image, the disc also includes a commentary track by historian Rob Farr, and most notably a 1966 industrial short film that is widely considered to be Keaton's final screen performance. The latter will be of special interest to Keaton's fans, even if the film itself is a bit of a sad farewell to one of the cinema's greatest icons. Kino has done a fantastic job with these films, and College is no exception. Keaton helped write the textbook on comedy, and in College he gives us a master class.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

Now available on Blu-ray and DVD from Kino Lorber.

Blu-ray Review | "Zombie Lake"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 00:38:00 +0000

After directing 1981's Zombie Lake, it's pretty safe to say that Jean Rollin discovered that zombies just aren't as sexy as vampires.

Rollin's filmography has always been somewhat of a mixed bag, ranging from brilliant (The Iron Rose) to downright ghastly (Two Orphan Vampires), but his particular brand of erotic horror takes a major stumble here. His work always had a certain erotic element, mostly foisted on him by schlocky producers looking to make a quick buck. Often Rollin was able to rise above it with his sense of style, thematic maturity, and visual ingenuity, but in Zombie Lake, the entire affair feels like a quick, cheap, paycheck job. Even by Rollin's low-budget, high art standards, Zombie Lake marks one of his biggest detours into Z-grade territory, and despite a few weak efforts to elevate the material, it remains disappointingly limp.

It's clear even distributor Kino Lorber, who has done an excellent job releasing Rollin's filmography on blu-ray over the last year, doesn't particularly have a lot of faith in the film either. It's the first Rollin title not to include a booklet of liner notes by Video Watchdog's Tim Lucas, which have helped illuminate the often disarming depths of Rollin's work, which could easily be dismissed as nothing more than Eurotrash horror for those who aren't looking beneath the surface. There are a few extras here, mostly some alternate versions of scenes, but it lacks any kind of contextualization that has made these releases such a pleasure in the past.

Nazi zombies were a peculiar subgenre of the zombie films in the 1980s, and Zombie Lake might possibly be one of the strangest ones. It starts off, in typical Rollin fashion, with a naked woman going swimming in a cursed lake, only to be attacked by an underwater zombie. It's almost a direct rip-off of the opening of Jaws but with actual nudity. This sets off an investigation into the lake, which yields and extended flashback, telling of how members of the French Resistance once slaughtered a group of German soldiers during World War II and tossed their bodies in the lake. Now, they have returned from the dead for revenge. Oddly enough, one of the zombies comes across his young daughter, whom he fathered with a local woman after saving her life.

You have to give Rollin credit for trying something new here, but the zombie with a heart of gold angle just seems like an ill-advised detour, zapping any of the horror the film might have otherwise conjured up.. Rollin's typical eroticism seems completely at odds with the subject matter, and seems even more gratuitous that usual. The green zombies just aren't sexy, even if the makeup effects are pretty laughable. They just don't lend themselves to a naturally erotic story, whereas vampires, Rollin's usual ghoul of choice, are generally viewed as much more sexy creatures.

The transfer looks fine, but isn't anything spectacular. Not as good as some of ther Rollin releases, anyway, which have provided some rather strong HD upgrades. There are a few interesting visual ideas at work here, but the story is just too silly to be saved. There are plenty of bad horror movies out there, Rollin even made quite a few himself. But Zombie Lake lacks that certain spark that makes even bad films entertaining. Rollin made much stronger, and much more frightening films in his career, to which Zombie Lake is little more than an unfortunate footnote.

GRADE - ½ star (out of four)

Now available on blu-ray and DVD from Kino Lorber.

On "Oz: The Great and Powerful"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 21:10:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

The story nearly drowns beneath the heavy-handed, cartoonish special effects, which are more off putting than involving. The characters leap from one dangerous situation to another with no real sense of humanity or even danger. What distinguished "The Wizard of Oz," and why it endures to this day, was its sense of wonder. "Oz: The Great and Powerful" never achieves that, or its sense of simple humanity.

Click here to read my full review.

Trailer | "To the Wonder"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sat, 09 Mar 2013 07:10:00 +0000

Review | "Beyond the Hills"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sat, 09 Mar 2013 02:37:00 +0000

Near the end of Cristian Mungiu's Beyond the Hills, a policeman looks at a colleague and asks "when will this winter end?"

It is clear that while the policeman may be referring to the weather, Mungiu certainly is not. Never one to bash us over the head with metaphor, he nevertheless underlines his point in the film's chilling final shot, a haunting, slow zoom long take that lingers long after it fades.

The best films of the Romanian New Wave have a way of getting under one's skin, gnawing and penetrating with a slow-burn intensity. When the renaissance of Romanian filmmaking first announced itself to the world sometime around 2005-2006, with the release of Cristi Puiu's The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, Corneliu Porumboiu's 12:08 East of Bucharest, and Radu Muntean's The Paper Will Be Blue, it was clear that something major was going on in the former Communist nation. The movement peaked in 2008 with the release of Mungiu's masterpiece, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days, which remains its strongest and most widely acclaimed achievement, and is notable for helping to revise the foreign language film rules at the Academy Awards after it was infamously left off of the Best Foreign Language Film shortlist in 2008.

Cosmina Stratan in Cristian Mungiu's BEYOND THE HILLS.
A Mobra films/Why Not Productions/Les films Du Fleuve/France 3Cinéma, Mandragora Movies co-production.

There have been some strong Romanian films since then, most notably Porumboiu's Police, Adjective, Muntean's Tuesday, After Christmas, and Puiu's Aurora. But Mungiu had perhaps the highest expectations riding on him to carry the movement's torch after establishing himself as its standard bearer. His omnibus film, Tales from the Golden Age, was never released in the United States, and received mixed reviews at the Cannes Film Festival. But Beyond the Hills is the strongest Romanian film since Mungiu's own 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days. In that film, Mungiu tackled the thorny issue of abortion in a stark and clear-eyed way. Not one to avoid hot button topics, Mungiu turns his eyes to religious orthodoxy in Beyond the Hills, setting the film in a remote convent in the hills of Romania.

Shades of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's Black Narcissus haunt the isolated monastery, drained of color and music, perhaps, but not necessarily in intensity. Mungiu takes the trademark Romanian austerity and takes it a step further, infusing it with an electrifying undercurrent of creeping madness, as a young woman named Alina visits her childhood friend, Voichita, at the convent who has dedicated her life to becoming a nun. It is clear from the start that this was no ordinary friendship. While it is never explicitly stated, it becomes clear the two shared a special and unique bond that might have even been a romance. But Voichita has turned from that life, even as Alina begs her to leave the convent and return with her to Germany.

Cosmina Stratan, Cristina Flutur in Cristian Mungiu's BEYOND THE HILLS. © Sebastian Enache.
A Mobra films/Why Not Productions/Les films Du Fleuve/France 3Cinéma, Mandragora Movies co-production.

Having grown accustomed to monastic life, Voichita refuses. Tormented by memories and unwilling to give up on what they had, Alina slowly begins to lose her grip on her sanity. The nuns try to intervene, accusing her of a multitude of sins, demanding confession and penance. When that doesn't work, they turn to medical help. When that doesn't seem to help either, they take matters into their own hands, but the results may not be the outcome they're looking for. What follows is a gripping exploration of the nature of sin. The Romanian Orthodox church lists 464 possible sins, all of which the sisters force Alina to go through to discover the source of her trouble. Each one as specific and restrictive as the first; no questioning, no thought of one's own. But at what point does individual thought become a crime? The sisters are obsessed to the point of pathology with absolute conformity, completely missing the point of the spiritual and personal nature of their religion, and giving little thought to how to apply it in their every day life.

So concerned with their crusade against the speck in their neighbor's eye, they end up missing the log in their own. And it's a very big log, one that, in the end, they remain quite unaware of. Which leads us back to the policeman's final statement - "when will this winter end?" The members of the convent fail to recognize the evil within in their quest to locate it in others. In the end, Mungiu confronts us, the audience, with the same question posed by the policeman. What good is a strict adherence to rules with no comprehension as to why? And when will the seemingly never ending cycle of blame and fearmongering end? These women are afraid of evil, and afraid of the consequences if they do not obey to their strict set of rules. But rules for the sake of rules without a basis in faith and love over fear and blame ultimately lead to their downfall. Mungiu deftly ratchets up the tension to a fever pitch in a way we've never quite seen from a Romanian film. It combines the sexual tension of Black Narcissus with the religious fervor of Carl Dreyer's Ordet, exploring the nature of modern fundamentalism with the eye of a consummated craftsman. His very specific brand of formalism traps the characters in a theological prison of their own design, and the results are as fascinating to watch as they are painful. Mungiu has established himself as the undisputed master of the Romanian New Wave, and with the release of Beyond the Hills it is clear that Romanian cinema isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

BEYOND THE HILLS | Directed by Cristian Mungiu | Stars Cosmina Stratan, Cristina Flutur, Valeriu Andriuta, Dana Tapalaga | Not rated | In Romanian w/English subtitles | Opens today, March 8, in NYC.

Review | "West of Memphis"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 07 Mar 2013 02:50:00 +0000

In 1993, three eight year old boys were killed in the Robin Hood Hills area of West Memphis, Arkansas. The case gained widespread notoriety after details emerged that cast doubt on the guilt of the three teenagers accused of the heinous crime, two of whom were sentenced to life in prison, and one of whom was sentenced to death.

The case of the West Memphis Three has been widely covered by filmmakers and journalists over the last 20 years, most notably by Joe Berlinger's Paradise Lost films, the last of which, Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory, was nominated for an Oscar for Best Documentary Feature just last year.

Coming on the heels of the Paradise Lost trilogy, Amy Berg's West of Memphis feels a bit late to the game. But unlike Berlinger's films, it doesn't have a direct agenda. Paradise Lost and its two sequels were directly advocating for the release of the West Memphis Three, with Purgatory having to tack on an epilogue after its premiere to include the release of the three men after the film had been completed.

Left to Right: Lorri Davis and Damien Echols.
Photo by Olivia Fougeirol, Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

As such, West of Memphis has the advantage of being able to examine the case from a more outside perspective, looking back on it with clearer eyes rather than directly being a part of it. It explores some of its more intimate details through the eyes of some of its fiercest advocates, from celebrities to some of the victims' family. While one has to wonder just what kind of expert witness Peter Jackson is, it's interesting to hear from some of the wide variety of famous people who lent time and money to the cause. Unlike the Paradise Lost films, West of Memphis spends more time away from the West Memphis Three, and more time exploring alternate theories as to who actually killed those three boys, most notably one of the boy's stepfathers, Terry Hobbs, who was never actually interviewed by the police.

Ultimately, the film is a scathing portrait of a monumental miscarriage of justice. It runs a bit long at nearly 2.5 hours, but it provides a fascinating overview of the case, standing as a final testament to one of the strangest and most mishandled murder trials in recent memory. Berg takes a hard look at a town swept up in paranoia of Satanic cults, who misidentified post-mortem wounds made by animals for sexually motivated ritualistic mutilation, which started a craze that led to three teenagers who just didn't quite fit in. That fear of the "other" holds a lot of blame in destroying the lives of those young men, and the town has never been the same while a real murderer walks free. Viewers who have seen Berlinger's excellent films may feel like they've been down this road before, but Berg has the luxury of not advocating for their release, an event that finally took place in 2011 after years of rallies, court hearings, concerts, and a justice system that just doesn't seem interested in justice. Filmmakers, thankfully, are. And West of Memphis is a compelling chronicle of true crime, paranoia, and a world where justice no longer holds any meaning.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

WEST OF MEMPHIS | Directed by Amy Berg | Rated R for disturbing violent content and some language | Now playing in select cities. Opens Friday, 3/9, at the Manor Twin in Charlotte, NC.