The Seven Day Cinema

Day 193: 'Tree of Life'

2011-06-05T22:02:00.004-04:00

"Let us consider the Earth in the dark immensity of space in the universe. We can compare it to a tiny grain of sand; more than a kilometer of emptiness extends between it and the next grain of its size; on the surface of this tiny grain of sand lives a stupified swarm of supposedly clever animals, climbing all over each other, who for a brief moment have invented knowledge. And what is a human lifespan amidst millions of years? Barely a move on the second hand, a breath.”
-Martin Heidegger

Writing about 'Tree of Life' is difficult. Difficult not in the sense of most works in the post-modern era; works packed with so many references and allusions so as to get lost in a ourborous of analyzing. The films many branches are impressionistic ones; fleeting engangements with nature that are only connected through other fleeting moments. It's root is without an ideal, other than the ideal of activity and sensory experience. Tree of Life' is, above all else, a testament to simply existing; like the mother (played by Jessica Chastain) of the central family in one scene who lies perfectly still when a butterfly lands on her fingertips;any movement being a telegraphed affront to nature.

'Tree of Life' has long been a pet project of director Terrence Malick's, adding to the collective heaviness and relictance to untangle that has become attached to it. 'Pet project' would be a grossly reductive word for such a film. It did not languish in Hollywood production hell for decades, nor did it suffer from lack of funding(Malick has produced some of the most absorbing, thoroughly anti-commercial films in American history, and his stature continues to draw top actors into his world: Brad Pitt, Mickey Rourke, Sean Penn(twice), Adrien Brody, Nick Nolte, Christian Bale, etc). The decades-long wait is most likely attributed to the films monumental subject matter: Life, in the capital 'L' sense. Malick(in collaboration with an enormous team, including NASA members) illuminates not only the life of an ordinary 1950s family(almost to ordinary: Dad(Brad Pitt) is a stern businessman obsessed with honor, while Mom(Chastain) is a doting housewife) but also the resilient vitality of the Earth, in both its grace and its grotesqueness. Most directors will spend time editing the scenes, looking for emotionally evocative cuts of the actors, or even calling them back to perform again if they find nothing they like It is clear that the wait for 'Tree of Life' is of a different order: The characters are used as complementary props of a universal ideal(Father is nature, Mother is grace), and this is an altogether radically different process; one that will see the director searching for the perfect shading on an azalea and the perfect human expression in equal measure.

What is perhaps most revelatory about 'Tree of Life,' and what makes it the most humane work yet in the filmography of Malick, is his refusal to take sides. Critics have often lambasted Malick for being too heavy handed, too overtly philosophical(this should come as little surprise if the reader is aware of Malick's extensive academic career, which includes a fascination with Heidegger). However, in 'Tree of Life' Malick manages to say nothing at all. It is not nature vs. grace, but nature and grace. It is no accident that the film opens up with a quote from Job, a man who's fallen humbleness is meant to represent us all; none knowing why they have been forsaken or if an answer will ever come . The answer may, in fact, be incompatible with simply existing.

'In 'Tree of Life', the state is given a two hour treatment, and despite the films largely lactose conclusion, it remains so even through the films most undeniably adventurous leap. The final 30 minutes are perhaps the biggest risk that Malick has taken thus far in his career; which is certainly, considering his oeuvre, rather extraordinary. It is utterly bizarre that audiences have sat through early sequences that depict the birth of the universe, take substantial liberties in depicting nature and grace as inherent from the very beginning, among other things; and their have still been reports(and a first hand account, from this writer) of people walking out of the theater during the final sequence. It is a visceral testament to two things: The film itself is inerrable, and you are free to embrace and deny what you wish.

This 'Dark Night of the Soul' may be marginalized in the end, but Malick, even in his brightest moment, does not relinquish the viewer from the responsibility of living. In one scene, during the final sequence, the mother is seen walking on a never-ending gray desert, heading towards nowhere, arms outstretched. IT's unclear whether this is supposed to be a peaceful shot or not(it is most certainly beautiful), but it has to be one of the most unsettling shots put to celluloid. It is in inerrable moments like these, when Malick does not use a voiceover, that 'Tree of Life' finds its most glorious havens; one that rests in the mind of the marrow as well as the brain. ' Keep thy mind in hell, and despair not."

NEW HOME!!!

2011-03-19T20:00:00.000-04:00

With a new, simple look at our disposal, The Seven Day Cinema has moved to a brand new location!

Visit us at www.sevendaycinema.com on a daily basis to get our film recommendations for the day. New recommendations begin on Monday, March 21st so be sure to visit our site.

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Thank you for reading!

Day 145: The Fighter

2011-01-12T16:38:00.006-05:00

"That guy did not just get off the fuckin' couch. If he did, I'm gonna get a couch like that."

There are some genres where pretty much every single movie it churns out is pretty much the same as the last one you watched. The "sports-film" genre isn't really any different. But here, in this genre, we have subcategories. There are not just sports-films, but Boxing-sports-films. They all pretty much include the same story. Some schmuck who wasn't very smart in school, is a poor bum who happens to have a "talent": he could knock people out. Through this God-given ability to smash heads like pumpkins, he falls in love, makes some money, and resolves most of the strained relationships in his life. The good ones though, don't really break the formula as much as they try and do what they can to poke some holes into it.

The Fighter, set in the 1990s, begins in Lowell Massachusetts. Mark Wahlberg—who's not really diverting greatly from his previous roles—plays Micky Ward, a fighter who has the cliché attribute of "heart." Christian Bale—in which my opinion is an Oscar worthy performance—plays his brother, Dicky. Dicky used to be a boxer over a decade earlier until a downward spiral ended his chances toward the title. Melissa Leo plays Micky and Dicky's mother, Alice. Alice is the selfish, conniving manager who you actually can't help but love. If you've ever seen a sports film before, you should be able to draw up a plot from start to finish from this paragraph alone.

This film, to a great extent, is a little unlike Rocky, Ali, and both versions of Body and Soul. Those films largely focused on an ordinary man who gradually triumphs over his environment to win it all. The Fighter on the other hand pits Ward as a man who's literally at the mercy of his environment. When he changes those that remain closest to him, or when those around him decide to change, he arises victorious. He doesn't ever really initiate it though. For all the heroics, he's largely and indecisive pawn that people love or need to push around.

Due to this, its Bale and Leo that pretty much carry the film forward; it's their performances that make it exception. Bale's bout with drug addiction is one that's already been displayed on film before, but Bale does something a little different with it that this time. Leo provides a fully fleshed out portrait for a woman both evil, and full of love. Amy Adams, as Wahlberg's love interest, is a great supporting actress but hardly conveys the time of powerful sentiment as Bale and Leo do. That works though.

I was very much in favor of Black Swan winning Best Picture as I was coming out my theater. But I had no choice but to change my mind after coming out of The Fighter. The ultimate response to a movie is always the emotional response. Black Swan, for all its theatrics, is a fantastic film, and most certainly will be recognized as a classic for years to come. However, when a movie like The Fighter comes along and brings it back to the fundamentals (the effect of the actors), and then provides a story that tugs at your heart strings, it's hard to resist. The Fighter embodies everything you want in a predictable, yet moving, sports film. It invokes all the great things that The Blind Side missed (not only did it miss marks, but it completely said, "Ahh, fuck it, who needs quality? We got Sandra Bullock!). It's amazing because both films stand on the opposite ends of the spectrum it rests on. Black Swan included a character detached from everything and thriving for absolute perfection. The Fighter includes a character with an almost symbiotic connection to his surroundings and yearning for just a chance. It embraces its nature of prediction, as opposed to trying to fight it. In a time as cynical as our own, I kind of like a movie that makes me smile a little.

Day 144: Knife In The Water

2011-01-09T16:30:00.000-05:00

"Always remember that there is nothing more dangerous than a concealed weapon under the water."

Roman Polanski's directional debut deals with the intense rivalry between two men who are at different stages of their lives, but reflect each other in every single way. A film that only contains three characters and that is basically only taking place within the confined walls of a sailboat, can only succeed and invoke interest by quality acting and impeccable direction. None of these actors had any previous experience but that wasn't noticeable and we all know that Polanski has always had a gift when creating tension between characters and building a stressful, suspenseful experience for the audience to endure. We're given front row seats to a clash of generations and we are also reminded how idiotic a man can be when trying to impress a woman who isn't impressed by silly acts of selfishness.

The film begins with a journalist and his much younger wife driving towards a harbor-- getting ready to spend a day on their boat-- when all of a sudden a young hitchhiker jumps in front of the car, forcing the two to stop and confront this rebellious nineteen year old. Andrezj, the older and experienced journalist, senses that his wife-- Krystyna-- is somewhat attracted to this young man. He eventually offers to give the nameless young man a lift. When the three of them finally make it to the harbor, Andrezj invites the young man to come join him and his wife. The motive behind this is to only impress his wife and hopefully embarrass the drifter. Throughout the film, Krystyna, is aware that these two are trying to outmatch one another not only to boost their over-sized egos but to impress her as well.

The most impressive thing about this film is that even though there is an intense rivalry between Andrezj and the lone hitchhiker, I felt that there was also a father-and-son bond between the two. It'd made clear that Andrezj is the superior man because of his intelligence, his wife, and strength. But what he doesn't posses is the youth that this man shares with his wife. Krystyna goes on to tell the young man that he's indeed just like Andrezj but just a younger version of him, that he strives to be someone he shouldn't become. Krystyna isn't impressed by the trials and tribulation that he's gone through but she does sympathize for him. Her character can be described as the audiences eyes and ears, she is witnessing the downward spiral that Andrezj is heading towards and at the same time being exposed to the hitchhikers preparation for adulthood. Two paths crossed one another in a matter of days and by the end of the film, the audience is aware that both characters are at a crossroad. Although, their eventual destinations remain a mystery to the audience.

Day 143: Shoot the Piano Player

2011-01-07T13:45:00.000-05:00

“On my birthday, when I said everyone gets a kiss, it was so I could kiss you.”

The French New Wave was a statement by French filmmakers about the climate of Hollywood and French filmmaking in the 50’s and 60’s. In order to bypass typical stories with the same characters and plot setup, directors like Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut attempted to shift the wave of film making to honest accounts of life. Instead of crafting films with typical arcs and archetypes, they wandered down a path less traveled that allowed for a film to breathe with a sense of spontaneity. Their films were filled with long, gestating moments of dialogue between characters who often betrayed the archetype Hollywood and French cinema established for them. In addition to this, French New Wave films were highly experimental with narrative structure and editing techniques that were seen as film faux pas. If there was ever a film that summed up Truffaut’s desire to create a film entirely its own, an entity outside formula, it would be his second feature length film Shoot the Piano Player.

Shoot is a bit lighter than Truffaut’s first film, The 400 Blows, but it features Truffaut at his most playful. Such a distinction is realized in the film’s opening frame when we open on a man running through the streets of Paris at a perilous rate from a duo of gangsters by the name of Momo and Ernest. We follow this man, who is named Chico (Albert Remy), for a few moments, thinking we’re being thrown right into his life. Things change though once Chico enters a bar and strikes up a conversation with a local piano player. Said piano player is Charlie Koller (Charles Aznavour), Chico’s brother. Suddenly the focus shifts from Chico to Charles, who despite the film’s opening interest on Chico, becomes our protagonist. Leave it to Truffaut to start a film and put excessive interest on a character who is merely a bit player when everything is said and done. Nonetheless, Charlie is our hero as he attempts to rid himself from a broken past that continually manifests itself in his life. The most notable form of a haunted past is his continuous run in with his brother Chico and Richard, who mock Charlie’s life outside of their crime family.

Knowing that Charlie is indeed the brother of Chico, gangsters Momo and Ernest begin to harass Charlie in regards to his brothers whereabouts. Not interested in getting tied up with crime, nor in throwing his brothers under the bus, Charlie plays things coy for a few days as he dodges through the streets of Paris. Adding more strain to his back is his growing love for the beautiful Lena (Marie Dubois), a waitress who works at the bar he plays at. Amidst the shadows of Paris, Charlie finds a confidant in a woman he’s afraid to talk to, a problem beset upon his fragile psyche when he lost a previous lover. It’s between Charlie’s evading of thugs and finding love that Shoot the Piano Player truly takes off. Truffaut is able to wring out a great amount of noir intensity from Charlie’s battle with his past. It’s to no surprise that this intensity plays handsomely into the hand of the love story that we desperately hope develops into the future Charlie and Marie deserve. After all, when together, the chemistry between Aznavour and Dubois is highly palpable as they represent pieces to each other’s characters. Aznavour is especially terrific as Charlie. He not only gives Charlie a level of street credit when he’s dealing with the gangsters that chase him, but also gives him a sense of tenderness that is only emitted once in the presence of the girl that lingers on his mind.

Charlie’s mounting love is only matched by his desperation to rid his life of a past that won’t quit. Between these two forces lies an amount of surprises that Truffaut employs to keep us on our feet and to avoid expectation. Truffaut does this in a number of ways. One such way is redefining the mindset of a gangster. In the case of Momo and Ernest, they’re relatively violent guys with a passion for criminal deeds. Yet, once we actually have some time to spend with them, they’re grounded guys who bitch about the random things that make up their life. I’d even go as far to say that, if updated for the modern day, Momo and Ernest would fit comfortably into an episode of Seinfeld. In addition to the likes of Momo and Ernest, Truffaut fills the film with an assortment of red herrings that undermine our preconceived notions as to what direction that plot will be going in. This is most noticeable in the final act of the film where two major events occur that one would be hard pressed to guess. So, if you are to watch any French New Wave film, or any Truffaut film for that matter, take a chance on Shoot the Piano Player. You’re expectations will not be met, but then again, that’s the point.

Day 142: Blue Valentine

2011-01-05T18:17:00.009-05:00

You would think there is nothing new to say about love. There may not be. And, when there is nothing new to say, is it possible to really experience evocative moments? Of course it is. The solution is in how one communicates their love (anyone can recall those moments when they’ve uttered the words “I love you” out of duty, or when they’ve been on the receiving end of one of those). Hollywood, for the most part, has only had two ways to talk about love: Through the classical Hollywood days until rather recently, it’s been in sharp, charming dialogue with two characters who are complete opposites growing to like each other. This is still a common treatment, but the arrival of Woody Allen in particular introduced a new kind of dialogue: a cynical (but still quick witted), slightly nostalgic tone.

Filmmakers have merged these two styles to create the modern day romantic comedy. I don’t think it’s necessarily a mystery as to why the current romantic comedy genre is in such a stale position. Filmmakers and screenwriters are witty and informed like never before. They’ve got fresh lines, fresh witticisms. But they are saying nothing new. There is the same undertone behind the overstuffed dialogue. “Blue Valentine”, a longtime passion project from Derek Cianfrance, seems to suggest that the romantic film can flourish in a minimal form. A kind of treatment that rewards the mysteries of relationships, and walks along a continual line with no clear beginning; no clear beginning of the first exciting pangs of love; and no clear beginning of the moments when those pangs become pricks, when the end has it’s beginning. If that’s not a faithful treatment of love, then what is?

“Blue Valentine” despite its somewhat ludicrous ambitions in pre-production (the stars shared a home and were asked to create loving memories of each other before dissolution), is a very minimal film. It has none of the visual flourishes of a romance like neither ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’, nor the excessive analysis of love in a film like ‘Scenes From A Marriage’. It doesn’t abandon all of the traits of romance films however. The stars (Academy Award nominees Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling) are a perfect mix of the beautifully porcelain and the beautifully rugged. There is of course a dramatic storyline: He longs for the simple life, she does not. Thankfully, the characters are much more dimensional than that simple synopsis, and it is truly a representation that would be best seen on the screen, and not read in this review.

As the film jumps back and forth between infatuations to sudden irritation, we know it ultimately will not end well by the final reel. Dean is often a slouch, and Cindy is progressively frigid and ambitious at the cost of all else. A closer look reveals that the two are not as simple as they seem: Dean is estranged from his family and longs to escape into someone, while Cindy has a long history of males who have used her solely for her body or other forms of control. Suddenly the lovers seem more dynamic. Dean’s sentimentality is not so cute, and Cindy’s frigidity is more understandable. It is as if both characters had one version of themselves go out the front door, and the other out the back. But these radically divergent identities merge into one another. Dean and Cindy must cope with the fact that they know much less about one another than previously thought. Once the love ends, behind all the known and unknown motivations each of us carry, it is normal to ask the question: Was it even love?

‘Blue Valentine’ largely remains oblique in its portrayal of dissolution. We are not provided with visions of the meat of the relationship. We don’t know how it happened; we only know that it did. Inerrability is the one force that we constantly fight against. Joan Didion once wrote “We tell ourselves stories in order to live”, and that is the inescapable truth. Works of art provide us with a comfortable narrative, and not even “Blue Valentine” can resist inserting some tired symbolism to help us make an understandable shape. Its ambitions remain admirable however: We cannot help being one step behind in our lives. Things happen before we can comprehend them. We have no choice but to keep going forward.

Day 141: Short Cuts

2010-12-31T17:05:00.001-05:00

"Wouldn't it be a trip if Alex Trebek bought a nude painting of me?"

It’s kind of fun to watch a film from years past and distinguish what aspects of it are precursors to the films we see today. It’s like an Easter egg hunt except without your family members obnoxiously competing for eggs. As you can imagine, most of these hints at the future are found within the work of directors who are institutions in the film realm. From Scorsese to Kubrick, the films of today are filled with their influence. Perhaps one of the more overlooked directors to have left his imprint on film is Robert Altman. Altman, a man with a deft eye for character, can arguably be seen as the grandfather of sprawling character pieces. If you look at the work of Paul Thomas Anderson, whose films like Boogie Nights and Magnolia contain a massive cast, you can see Altman bubbling at the seams. Yet, amongst film circles, Altman seems to be the odd man out when it comes to his holding on today’s films. If there was ever an Altman film that assisted in the formation of today’s foundation it would be Short Cuts.

Short Cuts is arguably the most ambitious film of the 90's as Robert Altman follows the lives of numerous Californians who are trying to make it from day to day. To go in depth about the film’s plot would be asinine considering it floats between twenty two different characters, each of which with their own story to tell. With the varying degrees of stories to cover, the film also weaves in and out of various levels of tones. One might guess this would make for an erratic film that’s trying to find an equilibrium between all of its parts, but the film is able to strike a balance for its epic three hour running time. This is a testament to not only the performers in the film, which range between thespians, musicians, and comedians, but also of Altman’s control of his scenes. Filled with an all star cast, "Short Cuts", as alluded to earlier, is the precursor to Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia. Where Magnolia is about the family unit (more specifically father issues), Short Cuts is about the sexual perversity and distance that can swell underneath a relationship between a man and woman, as well as the distraught that surfaces in the confines of one’s home. Granted, the film also possesses a macro theme of life being a continuous story, but the heart of it resides in the broken relationships that exist within Altman’s frame.

Per usual, Altman is a man who knows how to work the camera and with this he creates some naturally beautiful compositions. And as usual, Altman is able to capture great performances from everyone that graces the screen. From Julianne Moore's desensitized portrayal of a sexually explicit artist to Chris Penn's brooding performance of a husband who is growing sexually distant from his wife, everyone brings their best. If not for the acting, Short Cuts and Altman's ambition may have over extended its reach. After all, with a running time of over three hours and many stories developing slowly, the acting at times is crucial in keeping the audience's attention. There are some dead and tired parts in this film mainly because of Altman's effort to make these particular stories feel like real life. Such moments are character driven and dialogue based, facets of film that can seem mundane. But, this is not to say this film is small and has no action. Instead, it’s loaded with a lot of small, intimate moments that allow for scenes of grandstanding to resonate as they come along.

The funny thing about Short Cuts is that it’s often dismissed quickly because the three hour running time doesn’t come up with one discernable strand to connect all of the characters. In many respects, it’s the antithesis to the films it inspired, like Crash and Babel, where everything is tied up with one tangible device. Instead, it opts to create an environment where discussion can breed based on the ambiguous. This further supplements Altman's overall plan for Short Cuts, which is for it to resemble life as much as possible. From the serendipitous moments to those awkward talks with the people we love, Altman strives to replicate only a handful of days that our long lives may resemble. In the end, I'm sure many viewers will have wanted resolutions to be dispensed, but just like in life, sometimes we aren't afforded such endings. We don't get short cuts from our problems and Altman adheres to this.

Day 140: Somewhere

2010-12-26T16:58:00.008-05:00

"I'm fucking nothing."

We live in a time where we stare in awe of most celebrities, who are in no place to dictate the way we live our lives. Yet, we refuse to allow ourselves to be exposed to the harsh realities of what it's really like to live in Hollywood and truly have that "live fast, die young" mentality. It's much more than just girls, cars, and drugs. Our protagonist, Johnny Marco, living in the famous Chateau Marmont, shows us that the true poison for most hot-shot actors nowadays is absolute loneliness. It's well known amongst my 7DC writers that I'm a rather large Sofia Coppola fan. My reasons for loving all of her films is the same reason why most impatient critics love to bash her films and accuse her of nepotism and her movies of self-indulgence. It's often said that her movies are incapable of being taken seriously because the characters in her film are unsympathetic due to the fact that for the most part, they always seem to be wealthy. I don't quite understand why that's a factor but I suppose it's a matter of opinion. Anyways, what I find interesting about this film is that I have a feeling that Ms.Coppola was aware of these criticisms of her characters and instead of switching gears, she perhaps creates her most unsympathetic character yet: Johnny Marco.

Somewhere is a portrait of the isolated lifestyle an actor endures when their agents are calling them for a new role in a movie and all of their friends only appear when a party starts. Using modern Los Angeles as a backdrop for Johnny Marco's robotic lifestyle, the audience is exposed to his dull and lonely life. Marco is for the most part being told where to show up and what to say throughout the film, he's completely incapable of making a positive decision that will allow him to grow. He stays at the Chateau Marmont, which treats their celebrity visitors like royalty, and waits for a phone call by his agents to tell him what the next move is. Coppola does an excellent job, like always, at creating this atmosphere that makes the audience feel like their in the room with the character. This time, we are sitting in a Hotel living room, sitting down and doing absolutely nothing. Waiting. There are scenes in the film that at first that can come off as pretentious and tedious, such as the opening scene where Marco is driving in circles inside of his Ferrari for a good three minutes. But if you're willing to have some sort of patience, you'll understand that these scenes are put in place because this is what boredom does to you. I'm not saying that this film is about boredom but it definitely shows us that boredom can be a result of not having any true control of your life.

Throughout the film, Marco is looking for any sort of temporary happiness: Strippers, Cars, and Beer. Marco wants to be loved but doesn't know how to love anyone besides himself. There's an interesting scene that in the process references the death of famous German photographer Helmut Newton, where Johnny is leaving the Marmont and he sees that a car has crashed into the gates of Marmont. Right after that, he spots a pretty blonde at a stoplight and decides to follow her. Coppola takes us for the ride by dedicating a whole scene in which Marco follows this woman all the way home until she enters the gates of her mansion, where Marco is forced to return home. Throughout the scene, you see the enthusiasm on Johnny's face, hoping that this woman can feed his thirst for happiness. All seems hopeless until his estranged daughter is seen signing his cast, which he got after falling down a flight of stairs, drunk.

Cleo, Johnny's estranged 12 year old daughter, is what gives Johnny's life some sort of meaning. He's on his best behavior around her and tries his best to impress her throughout her visit. Cleo isn't impressed by any of the glitz and glamor instead all she really wants is her father to act like her father. What I find peculiar about Cleo's character is that she feels no ill will towards her dad and doesn't contain any cynical characteristics inside of her. She merely feels pity for her father, who she sees so much potential in, and simple brushes off his indecent ways. The chemistry between Cleo and Johnny is impossible to ignore. There are times in the movie where subtle chatting between the two can describe the amount of love they both have. After the two go into a pool and fool around with The Strokes "I'll Try Anything Once" playing in the background, they get dry while Cleo tells Johnny the premise behind the Twilight books. These small little moments that the two share are what gives Johnny hope that perhaps that it isn't too late to change. Not for just Cleo's sake but for himself.

Critics have said that nothing happens in this film and that Marco's most humane moments are not believable. I found it hard myself to not tear when Marco was sitting in a hotel room by himself, crying, calling random women to come over and keep him company. He's constantly being reminded by private text messages - from I suppose women that he's done wrong in his life- that he's a failure and that he isn't who he thinks he is. That aforementioned scene is the culmination of all the days of loneliness and witnessing how good Cleo has done without him. Marco does grow and Phoenix's "Love Like A Sunset", throughout the movie, tracks his progress and plays while he let goes of all the things that held him back during his career, and finally be able to start fresh with a touch of optimism that is shown on his face before we fade to black. This film will take years before it receives the appreciation it deserves. I'm just grateful that I was given the opportunity to get a glimpse of a life that so many people nowadays seem to strive for. A short life that includes loneliness, regret, and a longing for something real.

Day 139: Black Swan

2010-12-24T13:32:00.002-05:00

"I just want to be perfect."

One of the most gut wrenching films I’ve seen has to be Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. Certainly, there were ghastly elements to it that seared my eyes, but what was so suspenseful about Kubrick’s film is that he let it exist with no bounds. From Jack Nicholson’s larger than life performance to a telepathic child, the film lived off of the preposterous. This is all initially jarring, but the level of insanity the film reaches eventually gives way to an unpredictable sense of dread. Although there have been many films that have attempted to replicate the horror found within The Shining, only a handful of them have been able to match Kubrick’s controlled descent into madness. One such film would be Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan, a sexualized thriller set in the world of ballet.

Much like in The Shining, Black Swan revolves around the disintegration of a character’s mental integrity. We open up on Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), a ballerina whose hard work is aimed at reaching a level of perfection. A lot of this is built within her desire to achieve admiration from a crowd, but most of it emanates from her mother Erica (Barbara Hershey), a former dancer herself, who pushes her daughter to achieve a greatness she herself couldn’t reach. One could argue that Nina’s mother just wants the best for her, but this reasoning goes out the window when Nina’s mother coerces her to avoid an adult social life. Despite living a sheltered life, Nina for the most part is successful. She’s seen as a great technical dancer and has a supporting role in a ballet company. Unfortunately, this isn’t enough as she yearns for the spotlight. Nina’s desperation for a lead role hits its peak when her company’s first performance of the year will be Swan Lake, a tale about an innocent white swan who loses the love of her life to a free spirited black swan. With the lead role set to play both the white and black swan, Nina sees an opportunity to become a starlet.

Yet, Nina’s skill set doesn’t allow her to play both sides. With her innocence in abundance and her dancing technically impeccable, she’s only good for the White Swan. As for the Black Swan, Nina lacks the power to transform her rigidness into sexual grace. Her audition demonstrates this, but through a misguided sexual encounter with her director (Vincent Cassel), Nina wins the role. What should be a momentous event for Nina evolves into tragedy. Upon being named the lead, Nina begins working at an exhaustive rate, a point that goes unacknowledged when a new dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis), arrives on the scene. It’s through the emergence of Lily that Nina lets paranoia infect her mind with self doubt and jealousy. Nina’s lack of trust in her counterpart is understandable considering that Lily is practically the antithesis of Nina. Her dancing needs more refining, but her ability to inject passion and sexuality is desirable. In many respects, she is the Black Swan, and Nina begins to take notice of what could be her competition if she fails to achieve the seductive nature of the Black Swan in her rehearsals. What happens from this point on could only be classified as bat shit crazy. With her desire to reject her innocence and take on a sexualized persona, Nina pushes herself mentally and physically to emulate Lily.

It’s a venture that often fails and is further worsened by Nina’s growing paranoia amidst the unrelenting pressure of her mother. Soon, Nina is stricken with anxiety attacks as her mind wanders between reality and nightmares. Much like in The Shining, where reality and insanity blended into one seamless environment, Nina’s world begins to warp in frightening ways as she pushes her to the brink of devastation. From seeing swans having sex to seeing doubles of herself, Nina’s mind begins to unravel in unison with her deteriorating body. Portman’s ability to manifest Nina’s insecurities and fears is awe inspiring as she goes for broke in nearly every scene. Portman’s expenditure of emotion and sanity is only matched by her physical performance for which she is actively involved with the rigorous training and dancing her character faces. Assisting Portman’s exploration of her character is Mila Kunis who aggressively delivers a sexual freedom that continuously exceeds the grasp of Nina. Pushing these two characters farther is Darren Aronofsky’s unwavering desire to make his film wave its freak flag high.

This is most noticeable in Aronofsky’s insistence to show the human body being mutilated in various ways. Some of the desecration is of an athletic nature like a busted toe nail while others revolve around a body that is exhibiting otherworldly behavior. In spite of the physical trauma, there is a morbid beauty to Aronofsky’s visual flair. Balancing a palette of black and white, Aronofsky assembles a surreal vibe that not only hastens Nina’s downfall, but also restricts our grasp on reality. Aronofsky is known for his ability to create a mood, so it’s this aspect of the film that truly doesn’t come as a surprise. It’s well done, but Aronofsky’s biggest achievement is his ability, along with his choreographer, to shoot the dance sequences with great fluidity. Featuring Clint Mansell’s operatic score, the ballet sequences dip and dive at break neck speed. They too possess a surreal quality that furthers the hypnotic power the film holds over the audience. In many respects, the dance sequences are a micro chasm of Black Swan as a whole. Even though there are moments of absurd melodrama that threaten to turn the film into camp, Aronofsky and Portman regain footing to deliver a film that grasps the viewer on almost every level. Only time will tell if the film works its way into pop culture in the same vain as Kubrick’s The Shining. Until then, we can rest comfortably knowing that in the very least, Black Swan revels in its deranged premise and succeeds because of it.

Day 138: 9 Songs

2010-12-23T14:00:00.001-05:00

"Exploring the Antarctic is like exploring space. You enter a void, thousands of miles, with no people, no animals, no plants. You're isolated in a vast, empty continent. Claustrophobia and agoraphobia in the same place, like two people in a bed."

9 Songs probably won't ever be critically acclaimed classic like other small low-budget indie flicks. It currently has a 25% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Nevertheless, it'll always be a classic in some sense. It's ability to spark debate on the role sexuality plays in cinema is a notable one. There certainly is a debate on what separates pornography from other more risqué editions of film. This is what makes 9 Songs so interesting. The film is more or less, about sex. There really isn't much of a plot and there really isn't much dialog either. There's not much character development, and there's not much acting either. Yet, I think it's one of the most brilliant things I've ever seen. And I'm almost certain that you will disagree with me completely.

9 Songs demonstrates, in a few ways, why independent cinema that pushes the boundary when it comes to sex shouldn't be considered pornography. The main reason for this is that ultimately in a pornography, you don't care about your characters—barring the event that you're some type of weird creep that has an binding affection towards Sasha Grey. Of course, whether or not you care about the characters in 9 Songs will be completely up to you, but I did. There was a particular scene where the character, Matt, is at the beach with his girlfriend, Lisa. Now they're pretty much bundled up because of the winter but there's a nice moment when Matt tells her that if he goes in and swims it means that he loves her. She's completely unimpressed by this remark. And so, immediately he strips down and runs in. Moments like that aren't common in porn—well if someone happens to stumble upon this years from now and I'm being considered for an important position/etc. I have never seen porn in my entire life. I'm writing this solely from research publications and audio-visual material.

9 Songs is a narrative that moves as such: at the beginning the main character, Matt, is a climatologist beginning an expedition in Antarctica. During this he recalls his relationship with an American girl named Lisa. During these bouts of nostalgia there are nine songs that are placed throughout the film in between the drama. The nine songs are:

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, "Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll"
The Von Bondies, "C'mon, C'mon""
Elbow, "Fallen Angel"
Primal Scream, "Movin' On Up"
Dandy Warhols, "You Were the Last High"
Super Furry Animals, "Slow Life"
Franz Ferdinand, "Jacqueline"
Michael Nyman, "Debbie"
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, "Love Burns"

In between these songs are a variety of short exchanges of dialog, scenes of romantic trips, and very intimate scenes of sex. It's clear, and it's been reported, that much of the sexual acts in the film are not simulated. But it seems like at least some of them are. The line is blurred however. Some of the acts are just plain graphic as well. But it suits the purpose of the film. As opposed to porn which seeks to convert sex into this weird acrobatic dance of lust, this film shows them having sex because, that's what their relationship primarily consisted of. Sex here is treated with the same flair as the two of them dancing and taking cocaine. This is in stark contrast to mainstream cinema where the sex scene is set apart from the rest of the film by adding slow-motion effects, or a romantic score.

The distinction between this and pornography also came to my mind yesterday when I was in the bookstore and I picked up this book about Radiohead and how their music related to philosophy. I'm a big Radiohead fan so I took a look at it and since I couldn't read the whole book in Barnes & Noble, I figure I'll just check out the shortest essay. The last chapter is about In Rainbows. The writer makes the assertion that the album is mostly about love and sex. While I unfortunately was unable to complete the essay due to the ensued argument I ended up getting into with a Conservative (...yeah, I know), I did get far enough to read about Jean Baudrillard. I've come across him before but I've never had a chance to read him thoroughly. But here's one of the quote that the author of the aforementioned essay included:

The only phantasy in pornography, if there is one, is thus not a phantasy of sex, but of the real, and its absorption into something other than the real, the hyperreal. Pornographic voyeurism is not a sexual voyeurism, but a voyeurism of representation and its perdition, a dizziness born of the loss of the scene and the irruption of the obscene. ... Hyperrealism is not surrealism, it is a vision that hunts down seduction by means of visibility. One "gives you more." This is already true of colour in film or television. One gives you so much - colour, lustre, sex, all in high fidelity; and with all the accents (that's life!) - that you have nothing to add, that is to say, nothing to give in exchange. Absolute repression: by giving you a little too much one takes away everything.

9 Songs is clearly not the hyperreal. This brand of cinema only attempts to recreate the real. With the way the film is shot, too much is not revealed. There exists no excess. The depiction of sex here should be accepted like the violence in The Passion of the Christ which is also there for a purpose. The sex in 9 Songs helps provide ample fodder to support the relationship of the two main characters. The sex is also fully of more intimacy than plain Henry Miller-erotica, and even during it's kinkiest and most graphic of moments, it's a far cry from excess and porn. But for some reason there exists some acceptance for violence on screen but not sex. That's odd isn't it?

Day 137: The Lives of Others

2010-12-17T15:00:00.001-05:00

"The best way to establish guilt or innocence is non-stop interrogation."

One of my favorite pieces of pop art inspired by Pink Floyd is the image of a brick wall that’s completely covered in graffiti. Amongst the layered spray paint is a simple question that always made me wonder. Said question is: “Mother, should I trust the government?” This particular question carried significant weight prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall, where it wasn’t uncommon for the German Democratic Republic (East Germany) to investigate and vehemently follow the lives of their citizens in an attempt to assert control. Through mentally exhausting interrogation and the bugging of one’s home, the GDR were willing and able to follow those who they suspected were critical of their state, or looking to aide and embed a citizen across the border into West Germany. Rekindling the type of regime that existed in post-WWII Germany is Florian Henckel Donnersmarck’s amazing The Lives of Others.

The Lives of Others is one of those films that finds its momentum not on powerful scenes of action, but on scenes built of subtlety. The cast, featuring relative unknowns on a global level, meticulously forge their characters with identities that come forth in the most minute of ways. Certainly there are scenes based around stirring centerpieces, but more often than not, Donnersmarck’s execution is restrained and deliberate while his actors give their respective characters an unexpected depth. We know what each character wants. We know what is expected from them, and we ultimately know what each character stands to gain and lose. Everything feels very tangible, especially when you rope in the notion that some of the characters are being watched even in their most intimate of moments (sex in particular). Much like how the planets revolve around the sun, The Lives of Others and its inhabitants revolve around the performance of Ulrich Muhe. Featuring a small, impish frame, there is physically nothing imposing about Muhe’s performance as Gerd Wiessler, a spy for East Germany.

Yet, with his interrogation skills and overall ability in breaking down backsliders, Muhe makes his character a beguiling one who’s constantly one step ahead of his target. Seen as the GDR’s most loyal dog, Wiessler is asked to infiltrate and entrap a playwright by the name of Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), a potential West German sympathizer. Considering there is often collateral damage in such a mission, Dreyman’s live-in girlfriend, actress Christa-Maria Sieland (Martina Gedeck), has her right to privacy inhibited along with her lover. Taking up refuge in the bowels of Dreyman and Sieland’s living quarters, Wiessler follows their every move. Through the placement of microphones and well executed stalks, Wiessler listens in with no suspicions about his whereabouts. He sits patiently in the name of his country, like a dog waiting for his bone. No traitorous acts are discovered, but what Wiessler does discover is that his life, when compared to the chemistry and passion found between Dreyman and Sieland, is utterly pathetic. He sacrifices his own life and the privacies of others as a means to appease a government that often abuses their power for selfish gains.

Knowing his government has failed him, Wiessler goes rogue and begins to protect Dreyman and Sieland from falling into the clutches of the GDR. This change of heart on the part of Wiessler doesn’t consist of one “aha!” moment. Instead, Muhe’s masterful performance and Donnersmarck’s screenplay slowly mold Wiessler’s dissension with his leadership. It’s in this disillusionment where the film’s drama begins to reach a heightened state. In the case of all of the characters, they’re looking to maintain their true feelings about their state of oppression while trying to magnify a false sense of patriotism to gain a sense of security. As you can imagine, balancing a traitorous view with patriotism often finds our characters in moments where they have to wear both masks interchangeably. From this we have drama resulting from the invasiveness of a government that swiftly changes to a human drama about decency. Wiessler wants to work in the direction of his government’s best interest, but he can’t trump a person’s inherent right to privacy and freedom. All of this leads to a shocking final 20 minutes where all of our characters have their moments of redemption enveloped with tragedy. With the ending in mind, I ask, can we trust the government? Your guess is as good as mine, but if The Lives of Others has anything to say, it’s that an individual is more likely to do the right thing than a political entity.

Day 136: W.

2010-12-16T12:47:00.003-05:00

- Mr. President, what place do you think you will have in history?
- History? In history we'll all be dead!

I'll try my best to divorce myself from the natural political bias I'll have as I'm writing this. It shouldn't be too hard though because Oliver Stone's film is actually not that political. Instead we get a pretty friendly, and effective portrait of Mr. W. It's certainly something to watch. It's more personal than it is political and it's empathetic instead of critical. It balances humor and drama delicately, but perfectly. Instead of just a passing film in the pretty solid filmography of Mr. Stone, it's actually a joy to watch and, in my opinion, a classic in the genre of "political films."

With his previous film, "Nixon," Oliver decided to virtually leave out any details of his domestic Presidency. That's primarily odd because of how much Richard Nixon accomplished during his Presidency. The whole currency system was radically altered during his tenure. No, instead Mr. Stone decided to focus on his foreign mission abroad, and his personal life. Even Watergate acts like a tool to showcase other personality traits to Nixon. It's not really a scandal for us to plot in itself. The same seems to be about "W." The WMDs fiasco (I think we can call it that right? Certainly declaring war based on WMDs and then not finding it has to be a fiasco. I mean that's not really a resounding success now is it?) isn't really covered with the intensity one would expect. [I don't think you can put three sentences in a parenthesis in the middle of another sentence. That's probably grammatically incorrent. Moving on...] Matt Damon's "Green Zone" film certainly took the WMD event and went to town but this is the exact opposite.

Proof of the film's odd sense of, oh I'd say, friendliness is the fact that the story never really dwells on too many policy details for so long. Who the hell would even want to watch a movie about a guy trying to privatize Social Security? Instead what is given ample time are three pillars: the Bush legacy, Dick Cheney's influence on Mr. W., and Bush's own uncertainty. Throughout the story, Bush's father, whose Presidency I deeply admire, is constantly expressing his disappointment with his son. Overtly, Herbert Walker wanted to rest the family's legacy on the shoulders of Jeb, not George. But the main problem of this happens to be, both in the film and in actuality, is that Jeb could never be the politician George was able to be. Jeb wasn't a bad Governor but Bush is able to command a sense of sincerity that even I admire.

On Dick Cheney, the film couldn't be more explicit. If there's one character that Stone truly decides to savage, it's him. Cheney is seen overstepping, intruding, and pretty much misbehaving constantly. Richard Dreyfuss looks perfect as Stone's new Tricky Dick, and his performance is spot-on. It's not an impression, but more like an embodiment. (Probably used before.) Bush's own uncertainty is cleverly managed as well. If there is one criticism I have of the film it's that the decision-making style of W. is not properly detailed. Some reports have claimed that Bush will search for few opinions before making a decision but after he's made it, he'll constantly second guess himself even while staunchly fighting for issues in public even when the public is thoroughly against him. [This has been detailed in Woodward's book as he compares Bush to Obama. He writes that Obama is the exact opposite. He, on the other hand, will search for every opinion for making a decision, frustrating everyone in his cabinet, but once he's made a decision he'll never second guess himself. Some say it's confidence, others call it intellectual arrogance. Back to Bush.] The film's exploration of Bush's uncertain mindset is detailed fittingly in two ways. First, there's the wild Bush we visit during the college years, and later there's the final shot of the film which is both pretentious and awesome.

Another piece of evidence pointing to the film's rather favorable treatment of Bush is the fact that Brolin has told a story that Oliver Stone says Bush liked the film. Apparently Stone met with Clinton who let Bush borrow a copy of "W." and Bush apparently really liked it. Another reason for this would probably be the way this film treats everything with a certain sardonic sense of humor. It's the "Dr. Strangelove" that "Dr. Strangelove" SHOULD have been. (Anyone who's heard my opinions on film long enough knows how much I despite that movie.) The hardest criticisms are delivered almost as Saturday Night Live sketches. There's no doubt that there's drama, but there's a considerable amount of humor. Setting that kind of tone is a big achievement for Stone. There certainly isn't much in his filmography to indicate that he could work on such a level but he manages to do it with great ease. He's able to handle a contemporary story in a way that is sure to be enduring for some time.

The film's second best attribute is probably the casting. At first I wasn't sure it was going to work but Thandie Newton as Rice? Spot on. Banks as Laura is also very effective. Stone treated Nixon's wife oddly. It was almost as if fleshing her out seemed to entail making her cold-hearted (well I mean, she was married to Richard Nixon, Jesus.) Nevertheless that performance rightly earned her an Oscar nomination. Laura Bush isn't fleshed out into such detail here though. Instead she playfully serves as the backdrop and support for Bush's own story. Which leads us to Stone's biggest accomplishment: Josh Brolin as Bush.

This was probably a tough role to take on. Instead of parodying Bush, who everyone LOVES to parody, Brolin embraces him as an everyday American who happens to stumble into things. Instead of treating him as a guy in over in his head, Bush is an empathetic man just trying to do the right thing. I actually do believe Bush was trying to do the right thing. I certainly don't like his Presidency. Conservatives are certainly right that history will treat him better though. His performance after 9/11 was stellar in the fact that he was able to enforce a narrative of Islamic tolerance effectively, and he was able to embrace the tragedy of 9/11 in a way that brought Americans together. While certainly going to war the way he did was a unique way of undoing a lot of that, I think he made the correct decision in pushing TARP forward during the financial crisis. At a time when his approval ratings were around 20-30%, he was able to maneuver such a pivotal piece of legislation with a Democratic Congress. That's not a small feat. So Bush is not the worst President in history. Don't misunderestimate his achievements.

(Although to be fair, TARP was structured in such a way that left bonuses for Wall Street intact in a repulsive manner and it also let them have what they want without some conditions. The GM bailout by the Obama administration was administered much better. People paid the costs of Darwinian capitalism and the Treasury was able to manage like a private equity firm normally would. Still TARP let the Federal Reserve do what it needed to and I think Bernanke not only did what was necessary in an extraordinary way, but I also think the Federal Reserve System is underappreciated in America. Granted, they deserve a lot of criticism for the last decade but they shouldn't be the whipping boy that Ron Paul and Alan Grayson use it as.)

Day 135: Zero Effect

2010-12-11T01:20:00.002-05:00

"Fucking whales? Fuck the whales!"

Zero Effect is the directorial debut of Jake Kasdan (Freaks and Geeks, Orange County), son of legendary writer/director Lawrence Kasdan (Empire Strikes, Raiders of the Lost Ark), and it stars Bill "Chill" Pullman as the film's protagonist, Daryl Zero. Daryl Zero is a brilliant private investigator known for being very reclusive and having impeccable deductive reasoning. Due to Zero being a recluse, his assistant Steve Arlo (played by Ben Stiller in a co-headlining role) does the representative work in the field while Zero works from afar. Zero is basically a modern day Sherlock Holmes, and Arlo is his Watson. Both Watson and Arlo had to deal with the eccentricities of their employers and how it effected their private lives ( Dont know that much about Sherlock Holmes though. I've only seen the three episode television series that aired on PBS a few weeks ago). This dilemma comes to the forefront half-way through the movie where Arlo's girlfriend suggests that he retire, a decision Arlo has been struggling with for awhile. Why put up with a guy who writes terrible songs on his guitar and snorts amphetamines on a daily basis? Zero "needs" Arlo despite his actions and his unwillingness to show it.

The opening scene consists of Arlo and Gregory Stark (a leather-faced Ryan O Neal) sitting across from each other in an office building where Arlo is referring to Daryl Zero's services. Stark hires Zero to find out who is blackmailing him as well as to find a safety deposit key. During this meeting with Stark, Arlo has nothing but high praise for Zero, because that is what his job entails. The opposite occurs when he's talking about Zero with his friend in a dimly-lit bar. Instead of praise, Arlo delivers a character assassination of Zero and the viewer realizes that Arlo truly hates what he's doing right now. Poor Arlo went from working in a law firm to working for a guy that doesn't appreciate him. His only consolation in life is his ridiculously attractive soon-to-be fiance on any given night. Moments after we meet Arlo, there is a shot of a guitar being played out of tune, this is the first appearance from our hero ten minutes into the movie.

Zero lives in a well constructed sort of labyrinth type shit, like you have to go through metal doors and shit, and the door to his apartment has five locks and shit. All this shit Arlo has to go through to tell his boss what's up, while Zero is in his bedroom wielding his guitar around in his room. When Arlo finally completes this "what-the-fuckery", he gives Zero a rundown of the case, and from that point on this is where our movie begins to start picking up. Zero goes undercover as an accountant and tracks Stark's every move. Using his logical reasoning, Zero learns more about Stark and his motives. While he's at a health spa, Zero meets potential love interest Gloria Sullivan (played by an androgynous looking Kim Dickens from HBO's Deadwood). Through a simple conversation, Zero figures out that she is a paramedic, which is key to the story. With this conversation, the viewer realizes how socially inept the protagonist really is. (see Sherlock Holmes reference) Lots of plot twists in this with great portrayals from Stiller and Pullman. Sure the movie has its flaws, I mean there is no way this movie needs to have a two hour runtime and the female performances come off a bit weak, but if you're looking to watch an offbeat comedy then this movie is highly recommended.

Day 134: JFK

2010-12-10T17:38:00.001-05:00

"Back, and to the left..."

I love me a damn good conspiracy theory. It’s not that they’re entirely realistic, but that they offer a different view on reality that’s seeded in our deepest worries. Is the government out to get me? Does the Illuminati actually exist? Perhaps that last one is farfetched or just idiotic, but nonetheless, conspiracy theories fuel what would otherwise be a flavorless debate on a questionable event in history. This is even more so when one considers that conspiracy theories themselves set forth their own kind of narrative. No one seemingly knows this more than writer/director Oliver Stone who, through his most impressive work, has spouted controversial sermons with guile. With films like Platoon and Born on the Fourth of July, Stone doesn’t shy away from his political beefs. Despite his political candor, Stone is at his best when he puts on his conspiracy theory detective guise in his three hour opus titled JFK. As you can imagine, assuming you’ve peeked your eyes into a history book, the title references America’s 35th president, John F. Kennedy. Kennedy was seen as a leader during a turbulent time, but his steadfast leadership has been overshadowed by his shocking assassination.

Lee Harvey Oswald is seen as the number one culprit behind JFK’s untimely death, but with there being so many leaps of logic and questionable inaccuracies in the investigation following JFK’s death, it’s hard for some not to wonder about all of the possibilities. Not being afraid to tackle political oversights, Stone dives head first into the collection of evidence and witnesses that have gestated for decades. With evidence in hand, Stone hurls us back to 1966, three years removed from JFK’s assassination. There we’re introduced to Jim Garrison (Kevin Costner), New Orleans District Attorney who, after reading the Warren Commission and re-interviewing many of the Kennedy Assassination witnesses, sniffs the dead stench of a cover-up. Seen as kind of an aloof and misguided fellow by those around him, Garrison digs deeper and deeper until he finds that the path to Kennedy’s murder is littered with New Orlean’s businessmen, male prostitutes, and Vice President Lyndon B Johnson.

With his desire to find the truth, Garrison marches on through death threats, political snafus, and family dissonance. It’s self righteous in some respects, but Costner installs a sense of earnestness in Garrison that ultimately makes him a humble figure fighting in the public’s best interest. Surrounding Garrison is an assortment of colorful characters who emanate from the stoops of the White House as well as the swamps of the Bayou. Filling in the shoes of these somewhat historical figures are Hollywood heavyweights who match Stone’s kinetic direction. Gary Oldman, in a chilling performance, has arguably the most grounded performance as Lee Harvey Oswald. Everything about Oldman’s physical representation shouts shady, but Oldman’s performance suggests that something far more sinister lies beneath as his eyes succumb to paranoia. Rounding out the cast is Tommy Lee Jones, Sissy Spacek, Kevin Bacon, Jack Lemmon, and a head turning performance by John Candy, just to name a few. What a colorful cast for a colorful film that is brimming with possibilities.

Assisting our descent into the exhaustive research and determination of Garrison is Stone’s deft ability of blending archival footage within the film itself. This not only works as a means for historical context and an extension of Garrison’s evidence, but also a reconstruction of Kennedy’s assassination to the point that we can determine our own theory as if we were on the grassy knoll ourselves. Now, the caveat going into this film is that Stone does take some liberties with the facts or evidence that have been found by various parties. Thus it’d be a bit egregious on our part to treat the evidence found in JFK as if it was one hundred percent accurate. Despite the potential malformation by Stone, his interest and wonder in the JFK inaccuracies allows for one hell of a story to be crafted. All of which ends on a high note as Costner gives one of the most stirring monologues I've seen on film. It’s at this moment we realize that the film isn't about proving a theory right. Instead, it’s about the right as an American to dig at the burning questions that haunt our halls of our past.

Day 133: Good Hair

2010-12-08T13:58:00.002-05:00

Good Hair by Chris Rock is an interesting documentary. The backstory for it is quickly mentioned as you begin the film. Chris Rock's daughter, aware of the world she's grown up in, asks a completely logical question: "Daddy, why don't I have good hair?" And so, Chris Rock begins his quest. Why doesn't the average African American woman see her hair as "good" as her white counterparts?

I'm glad that Chris Rock made this film. People like to admit that media influences perception and behavior but they never really go all the way with the assertion. If they do make the acknowledgement, it's always for some trivial bullshit that no one really cares about. For example, I've noticed that recently it's become fashionable to acknowledge this about weight. One talk show host, Tyra Banks, went all the way to dress up in a fat suit for her show and show people how you should treat fat people as equals, don't bully them, accept them as beautiful, and all that bullshit. She even went so far so wear the fact suit to a dating service. When the men tried to get out of their date with an ugly fat chick, she then lambasted them for being insensitive jerks.

Of course, Tyra's show was pure drivel. Instead she could have talked about how the fashion industry has been selling us broomsticks as beautiful women for years but she didn't. She chose nonsense. So the premise of Chris Rock film was immediately encouraging. People like to talk about media perceptions but not when it comes to race. The Black experience in America is quite unique and often too dark to fully explore. Chris Rock makes his attempt and I think he succeeds in his overall mission to do it.

It took me awhile to write this review. I actually wrote two full reviews beforehand but felt that I was going off in the wrong direction. I'm the kind of guy who loves to play devil's advocate on an idea and I'll take it completely seriously too. I was thinking about what Good Hair was really about. I think Chris Rock succeeds in his mission to get people talking for sure. I think the comment from his daughter is enormously telling and his exploration of the hair industry in the film is particularly eyeopening.

At first, in my original review, I went on about how black girls are influenced by the media around them when it comes to their hair. I went on about how they've been told that their hair is inferior and thus it leaves girl with a diminishing self esteem. Then I went on about how our own media has gone on to reinforce. Some of what I wrote:

I have to take serious offense with the way mainstream black media has conducted itself. It's one thing to attack others for not offering you an equal platform. But once you've gotten your own platform it's another to propagate ignorance. The truth is, if blacks want black women to put together a positive image of themselves, then you have to convey a positive image of yourself for others. Recent black women of a new generation have shown that "natural hair" looks beautiful too. But even women who relax their hair shouldn't see this as a negative perception of themselves. A lot of white women aren't born with straight hair either.

Though I think I make some interesting points, I thought about something else: if some white women are born with curly hair and straighten it, why is much more said about the internal perception of nappy hair as opposed to curly hair? I think they should be equated because the truth is every woman "does" their hair but it doesn't always have a larger social context to it. Finally I had to go back to "the mainstream black media." It sounds like something you'd from a Fox News host but I think it's fair to come back to it. The truth is black media does not provide enough role models for girls to look up to that don't fit the traditional standards of beauty which have been set by, frankly, whites and not blacks. A number of celebrities have embraced the curly hair look but few blacks boast about their natural hair. Good Hair adequately makes this point when Chris Rock attempts to sell "black hair," to beauty stores. Unable to find any success, an Asian store owner who got lost in translation shows him hair from India and says, "black hair!"

But to me, these are issues mostly facing previous generations. While I think it's important to acknowledge that the comment from his daughter is particularly telling, I think that most young black girls today have seen viable alternatives to straight hair and a lot of them have embraced it. Relaxed hair and straight hair probably should receive the same controversy it received years ago. Yet at the same time the feelings still remain because Don Imus' controversial comment still offended many and revived some bitter feelings.

I can't completely express how I feel about this. I can't really say why his daughter said the thing she said. Not having enough girls in media that do have the natural hair look is probably the most clear explanation I can provide yet there are a few holes in this as well. Some people prefer the straight look. I think we often spend too much time trying to generalize what should be individual opinions. So having "natural hair" shouldn't be superior to having relaxed hair either. Sadly, the truth is most people don't see it this way. I'm glad Chris Rock has at least brought the issue up.

The latter half of the film talks about the economic issues concerning beauty products consumed by African American women. It's telling that in an industry where the main consumers are blacks, it seems to be dominated by a lot of Asians and whites. I wouldn't have a problem with this if it weren't for the fact that African Americans find themselves at the very low of economics too often. For example, the current unemployment for blacks is more than six percent higher than the national average. Missed economic opportunities like this upsets me, but I don't think it's a civil rights issue. African Americans are free to take advantage of capitalism if they wish. No one's stopping them.

Good Hair does a tricky job of dealing with a subject that's all about race yet he finds a way to do it in a way that's not just about race. He also finds a way to take a subject that others would have made too serious enjoying but he also finds a way to balance the tone so that it's not too humorous either. Ice-T clearly steals the show here but Chris Rock's point is thoughtfully made and well executed. Recently Chris Rock has laid his hand in remaking foreign films but I wish he would stick to his own original material and find a director he can collaborate with. When it comes to comedy, Chris Rock is one of the greats but he does a fairly fine job of examining serious issues as well.

Day 132: Capturing the Friedmans- (A Second Viewing)

2010-12-06T22:17:00.000-05:00

"Can't you put your anger aside for one minute?"

Capturing the Friedmans is a deeply unsettling film on several levels. I have been putting off writing about it simply because I didn’t want to have to think about it anymore. I just wanted to move on, to act like it never happened, much like how the family in the film just wanted to have it be done with and get on with their lives, how they used to be, but they realize that’s no longer possible.

The style of the documentary is very personal. It is technically well done, with the integration of copious amounts of home movies and audiotapes into the talking head interviews and various other techniques. The structure of it is designed in a specific way to make you question the nature of the investigation, and of the actual crimes.

We know that Arnold Friedman was a pedophile, he confessed flat out. What we are left with then is a numbers game. How many children did he molest? How many kiddie porn magazines were there, really? How many years in prison does he deserve? Many of these questions don’t have answers. There is no true and just penalty for molestation. Surely it is a mental affliction that should in some sense be treated as an illness, but it is also a crime. Will an extra 10 or 20 years, even a lifetime in jail ever make up for the damage that has been wrought upon unsuspecting children’s lives and their families?

It’s all very complicated, and we never know who’s acting and who’s baring their soul, who’s doing what they think is right by lying or what they know is right by telling the truth. The police make all of this so much worse by not being an even hand to guide the madness. By falsifying evidence and stretching the truth they are only worsening, by an incalculable amount, the entire equation.

What we have is a hall of mirrors and big gaping holes occupied by deeply scarred people who, it seems, never really understood themselves in the first place. There is a certain fanaticism, a degree of manic documentation that went on within the family, even amidst the greatest of crises. We could chalk this up to family dynamics and accept its strangeness, but it all takes on these epic and infinitely grotesque suggestions. And what family in their right minds would not only agree to a full-fledged documentary of their relatives various ailments and crimes, but would also divulge seemingly endless amounts of extremely personal information and documents? This seems more like an invitation to disaster than a way to finally set the record straight and clear your name.

The film is literally bursting at the seams with account after account of discrepancies and conflicting evidence to sway you hither and thither. We emerge not so much with any answers or a concrete ground to stand on and accuse, but rather an extraordinarily fragile understanding that we must accept that we’ll never know the whole truth. Truth is simply a concept we can struggle to achieve that will only lead us down more alleys of unanswered questions we’d like to pretend never existed in the first place.

Day 131: Just One of the Guys

2010-12-05T08:09:00.006-05:00

"Dresses like Elvis Costello, looks like the karate kid – I'm gonna get him."

Just One of the Guys is the first teen comedy in recent memory to use Shakespeare's Twelfth Night as a reference point. Guys influenced countless other studio execs to do the same, whether it was the "bigwigs" over at the Disney Channel who gave audiences the criminally overlooked "masterpiece" Motocrossed!, or whether it was the "tour-de-force" performance given by Amanda Bynes in She's the Man, Just One of the Guys changed the game when it came to adapting shit, and is one of the prime examples of a remake done right. Full analysis after the jump.

Just One of the Guys focuses on aspiring teenage journalist Terry Griffith(Joyce Hyser) and her ambition to work as a newspaper intern. She fails to succeed in reaching her goal after she loses a city run competition at each school where each student has to submit an article worthy enough of winning the internship. Terry starts bitching and moaning to the schools faculty adviser because she felt her article was God's gift to the world or some shit, dude just told her straight up "Your shit's weak." Terry storms out of the adviser's office screaming sexual discrimination accusations to her best friend(Toni Hudson) and her sex-crazed little brother with "Kirk Cameron" hairstyle to boot (Billy Jane) about her work not being taken seriously just because she is a woman. Due to this realization, she decides to masquerade as a boy to get what she wants with the help from her little brother Buddy. With her parents out of town, she decides to enroll at a rival high school, but Terry comes to find out that being a boy comes with a lot of complications, like going to the bathroom, gym, or catching the eye of several hot babes.

Terry is obviously way in over her head. One highlight of her experience as a boy was meeting and eventually falling in love with the nerd with a heart of gold, Rick Morehouse. The second half of the movie deals with Terry conflicted with her feelings for Rick while still being able to keep her cover as a boy. Just One of the Guys is a common tale of mistaken identity capped off with the iconic scene where Terry is forced to show her incredible rack to Rick, when her ex-boyfriend(Leigh Mccloskey) figures out what she's been up to this entire time sneaking around and countless other shenanigans. All in all though, things end up happily ever after for our protagonists, solid movie and comes highly recommended if you're looking to just sit back and watch a second-tier high school comedy.

Day 130: The Counterfeiters

2010-12-03T20:16:00.001-05:00

"I'm myself. Everyone else is everyone else."

Survival is often an ironic thing. Through hypothetical questions, sometimes we venture a guess as to how we’d react when placed in a moment of danger. Our answers, often shrouded in humanistic ideals, usually are placated with limits. We’re willing to go to one level, but never above and beyond to do something we find morally questionable. Oh, how things change when a hypothetical situation becomes reality. Suddenly what was an issue of won’t becomes a declaration of will. Of course the real life situations can vary, but there probably has been no survivor story that matches the fervor of the Holocaust. Now, usually when a film based on the Holocaust comes around, more often than not it’s treated as Oscar bait. Certainly, there are some films that exploit a mass murder for prestige purposes, but every once in awhile there comes a Holocaust film that’s intentions are honest and worthwhile. Enter in The Counterfeiters, a game of survival that pits two Jewish prisoners against one another as their views of survival and morality clash amongst the S.S.’ brutality.

Based on a grizzly true story, The Counterfeiters follows Salomon Sorowitsch (Karl Markovics), a counterfeiter of great distinction, as he’s placed in a concentration camp. Knowing full well the capabilities of Sorowitsch and his duping abilities, the German officers see a golden opportunity to fuel their agenda. So, Sorowitsch is transferred to another concentration camp (Sachenhausen) to join a selection of prisoners who form a team of counterfeiters. The sole purpose of this collection of imprisoned Jews is to replicate the British pound and the American dollar as a means to cripple the economies of Britain and the United States. The conditions in this particular camp are impeccable when compared to the death camps that were littered across Europe. In many ways, Sorowitsch and his fellow counterfeiters are treated like relative rock stars. Of course, there are heinous acts and verbal venom that is spewed onto Sorowitsch and his fellow prisoners, but they’re living a rather stable life. The problem persists in the fact that by aiding the Germans in creating Allied money, Sorowitsch and his fellow prisons are feeding the German war machine, and conversely, assisting in the persecution of their fellow brethren. It’s a notion that initially flies over the head of Sorowitsch simply because he’s focusing on self preservation.

Despite his steadfast determination to make it out alive, Sorowitsch’s conscious takes a hit when fellow counterfeiter Adolf Burger (August Diehl) leads an uprising against his German captors. With many of the Jewish prisoners seeing Sorowitsch as a leader, he’s left to decide where his ties lie: out behind the walls where his fellow prisoners are dying mercilessly or in his own sense of survival. What is the merit of survival if it perpetuates the mass killing of your people? This ethical question is pushed further as Sorowitsch battles with Burger, who is determined to sabotage the counterfeiting process by any means necessary. Heightening this desperation for a moral center is the impending doom that manifests in the mind of German guards who feel the breath of Allied soldiers breathing down their neck. Directed by Stefan Ruzowitzky, The Counterfeiters is a haunting look at moral ambiguity against the backdrop of the Nazi’s human cleansing. Although the film is impeccably crafted from a historical perspective, its laurels are rested on the battle that resides in Sorowitsch’s heart. Does he fight for survival or principle?

It’s a question that is terrifically played up by Karl Markovics, who gives Sorowitsch a condemned soul, one that is constantly stirring about looking for an answer to a complicated question. Markovic is especially great in his role considering his ability to change Sorowtisch’s turmoil from extrinsic to intrinsic. Initially, Sorowitsch’s problem is of his confinement, but it evolves into a burden that cripples his conscious. Prodding Markovics is August Diehl whose Burger pushes Sorowtisch in the direction of mutiny. Their ability to go back and forth often sets the screen ablaze. Sometimes it even feels like the Nazi’s themselves are lesser enemies when Sorowitsch and Burger meet face to face. Aside from the tremendous acting, the film gets a lot of credit for not exploiting the Holocaust. Writer/director Ruzowitzky does a fantastic job of keeping the focus on the film’s moral center while still acknowledging the Holocaust’s atrocities without any overbearing sentimentality. It’s a tough task, but everyone involved is able to evade the tropes that invade most film recounts of the Holocaust. Yet, despite the film being deeply rooted in the Holocaust, the power of the film and its look at self preservation goes beyond this tragedy. Instead, it can be applied to just about any situation where survival and principle are off setting. If The Counterfeiters has anything to say about the situation it’s that survival is merely a forgery of a previous life if one’s conscious is haunted by the decisions of the past.

129: The Bourne Identity

2010-12-02T19:41:00.002-05:00

"Everything I found out, I want to forget."

The first of the "Bourne" film series, The Bourne Identity is an action packed conspiracy thriller staring Matt Damon, Franka Potente and Chris Cooper. Released in 2002, I'd have to say that this is my favorite of the current three "Bourne" films, with the fourth set to hit theaters in July of 2012. The film is based off of Robert Ludlum's 1980 novel, which hoists the same name as the movie, along with the other two in the series.

Doug Liman, director of the film, was able to put himself on the map with this movie. Although he doesn't boast a high profile film catalog like other big name directors, he did a very nice job with "The Bourne Identity" especially considering his lack of prior experience. Before this film, Liman was most widely know for his popular commercial starring Tiger Woods, where he debuted his famous trick of continuously bouncing a ball on his club without letting it touch the ground. Unfortunately, Liman was only able to put out two other well know movies up to this point with "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" and "Jumper."

Now before I get to far off topic, let's jump into the movie. Found by a fishing boat after unconsciously floating in the Mediterranean, Jason Bourne awakes on the boat with amnesia along with suffering extreme memory loss. With two bullet wounds, Bourne's only other clue to find his identity is a code to a safety deposit box which is displayed by a small laser projector implanted in his hip. His current state of amnesia and memory loss came after a failed assassination attempt during his mission for the CIA, to terminate Dictator Nykwana Wombosi. With Bourne still unaware of his true identity, his situation rapidly becomes worse. Back on land, Bourne finds that he is wanted for death, and the CIA will stop at nothing to erase him and the secrets behind his failed mission.

What I really like about this movie is the plot. Now, its not just the plot in general that I enjoyed, but it's the way that it was presented. When dealing with a conspiracy story, particularly when it's about the government, things can get a tad bit confusing, which will lead to disinterest in the movie. While the plot in "The Bourne Identity" does have it's complexities, it keeps the viewers attention by staying inside of their mental boundaries. The twists within Bourne's character are fun and exciting to follow, while at the same time it provides the action and loud explosions that men love. This is definitely the movie you turn up the surround sound for as you watch the story unfold.

As stated earlier, this is my favorite of the current three films, but that's not to say the last two were bad. I enjoyed all three and am looking forward to the release of the fourth film. Sometimes you will find mixed review with these movies, but I tend to think they are a bit underrated. In the future, I plan to review each piece if the ongoing story of Jason Bourne, but for now, take the time to watch "The Bourne Identity" and see for yourself whether or not you want to jump into the action.

Day 128: The Class

2010-12-01T09:30:00.007-05:00

[no quote this time.]

Teaching students must certainly be a hard job. Why do they even bother? Is it from some sort of self-fulfillment? That really can't be it. The kids these people work with are at that tipping point. At around 12-16 you know nothing, and don't quite give a damn if you don't either. These aren't exactly the type of kids you want to teach. I mean, why not teach a class with older students? (Now that I think about it. He says he taught these students before but aren't teachers usually assigned to a specific grade and unable to follow a class? Anyways...) I imagine that people become teachers the same way they want to become lawyers or doctors. There was probably that moment when they were younger that triggered it. There was probably that moment where taught someone something special and it gave them a feeling of absolute worth. That person knows that one thing because you taught it to them. You've made an impression. I mean what more valuable thing is there than knowing that you left the earth leaving a mark behind?

And so begins The Class. A well made French film that chronicles roughly the first half of a school year with Mr. Marin who is played by Francois Begaudeau, a real life novelist and teacher who wrote a book of the same name about a similar story. This version is a very closely woven fictional pastiche of those experiences. From the onset, a repertoire has already been established with his students. A lot of them he already knows. This probably makes it even more difficult. The back and forth between students is often very combative and crosses the line quite a few times. I can't say that I've really been in a class like this though which makes the character all the more realistic. His patience exists in abundance. When he runs out of it the effect is no less surprising since you remember that he's still a teacher. Yet, the empathy for it is quite understandable. My patience would have run out a long time ago.

The film does go to some length to separate Mr. Marin from the other teachers. Film theory books go to great lengths to make the distinction between "telling," and "showing," and this is even more apparent in French cinema where realism is held as sacred. To "tell," would break the illusion of art existing without an author. But as Wayne C. Booth says in his book, The Rhetoric of Fiction, "...the author can to some extent choose his disguises, [but] he can never choose to disappear." Take for example one scene where a teacher returns to the break room so frustrated that he lets loose. His anger and frustration with the students sends him into quite a rage that leaves all the others speechless. Yet they refuse to criticize him. Why? Because they know exactly how he feels and I wouldn't be surprised if they've been there before. Not to mention that this is quite tame.

I use the word tame because as the teachers look for ways to discipline the students in the most effective ways possible, some teachers come across as simply self-righteous and judgmental. Others too idealistic. What makes Mr. Marin so interesting is that he's trying to find that delicate center of realism. He enjoys being around his students yet he can't be their friend. He sees the need to judge and discipline but he can't be their parents. He wants them to learn literature as effectively as their can and that may require personal details but he can't be God and ask for their secrets. This is a delicate act. The relationship between teacher and student is an odd one. Geoffrey Canada says that "education is the cure to end generational poverty." I completely agree with him. Yet what are we really saying? We're saying teachers play the role of social reformer in a way. Whether we know it or not, they ultimately end up shaping more than our world-view. As a child, you spend most of your time in school work, and in the classroom. You can't remain impersonal to them all the time yet it would be rather odd to be personal.

Kids are people and people are tricky. Humans aren't complex in the sense that we're tangled wires of chaos, but more like we're finitely colliding mosaics of life. We are made up of various undefinable shades. We react but interaction is much more difficult. What makes it even more delicate is dealing with so many who are so different. Different students are looking for different things in their teacher and at times they feel neglected as sometimes the courses and the textbooks fail to recognize the respective cultures the students belong to. Similar controversies have been discussed by minorities in the United States who regard standardized testing as retaining a cultural bias.

In a normal film, I might have laid criticism to the fact that character details and development can at times be clearly missing. There certainly isn't a traditional arc but that's what fine. People don't really have arcs at this age and most of us probably won't have cinematic arcs anyway. They didn't go the route of a film like Freedom Writers. Instead The film feels very much like a documentary which is perfect. It doesn't try to romanticize the hard lives of the students or the difficult task of the teacher. Instead, it tries to position the story as objective as possible. The author, in this case, has wonderfully found the right disguise in which he can show us his story. Quite literally, he's hidden in plain sight.

Day 127: The Exorcist

2010-11-29T20:20:00.001-05:00

"The Power of Christ compels you!"

I didn’t find the sound in The Exorcist to be that dynamic or interesting. In fact, had I not known that I was going to write a review for it I wouldn’t have remembered anything about it. Well, actually, I still don’t, really, and I paid special attention to it. The diegetic sound wasn’t all that good. The writing wasn’t magnificent. The delivery of the dialogue was nothing to go crazy about. The only thing that really peaked my interest was the backwards speak of the possessed girl. Then they went and explained it as backwards English, demystifying and therefore ruining that effect, too. There was lots of banging upstairs. It wasn’t mixed too well from what I recall.

The nondiegetic sound is a little more interesting. The chants in the beginning, which apparently were prayers (that whole sequence was kind of jumbled to me), are one aspect. Another is Tubular Bells by Mike Oldfield. I know of the album because many consider it a classic but had not actually heard it. It has now gone on to be sampled by Janet Jackson. There were shrieks and things that probably didn’t come from the characters themselves. That’s just standard horror procedure. That is, honestly, all I have to say about the sound.

I am obviously not a fan of this film, and never have been. I saw it many years ago and laughed my way through. I never thought I’d see it again simply because I disliked it so much. Owen Roizman did the cinematography. He’s done some great stuff, for example he did Network. I immediately think of the long desk with its many lights and that magnificent monologue on greed. His images are one and the same with my thoughts of the film. That means that Friedkin wanted it this way. He wanted the shoddy looking home movie feel, probably to achieve a level of reality or something, to ground this in fact so as to keep the audience with the story and not the style. I respect the idea, but I feel that the execution was poor.

As for on an ideological level, I also didn’t appreciate the film. All of the ethnic tensions and weird little juxtapositions didn’t hit home for me. The only one that struck me was the Nazi butler, which seemed like it had nothing to do with the rest of the film. I also can’t believe Max von Sydow was in this and I never noticed.

Everything about this movie strikes me the wrong way. Even the good things, like Burstyn’s performance, are squandered away within the beast. Way too much time is spent on what turns out to be pretty ambiguous relationships, anyways. All of the terror of the girl possessed is only shown in 30-second clips, not nearly long enough for us to get a sense of what we’re dealing with. That is, until the end, at which point I stopped caring.

I’ve never liked Friedkin. I don’t like The French Connection. I thought Cruising was not only awful but also homophobic and prejudice. Three of his films have been nominated for Razzies. Two of his other films have been nominated for Stuntman awards. After The Exorcist he seems to be living on its tailcoats floating along making B-movie horror and action movies no one remembers or cares about. Maybe The Exorcist just caught a certain zeitgeist and he’s been looking to find the next one since.

And what should have been the most profound, all of the religious aspects and the warnings of a faithless world are, alas, lost on me, someone who is not religious. Had I had a faith, though, this would not be the film to reaffirm it. This is a low-grade horror film in my opinion, with none of the beauty of the great Italian horror films, like Suspira, none of the philosophical weight (to me) of films like Videodrome, and none of the sheer terror of a film like the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Day 126: Catfish

2010-11-28T04:11:00.001-05:00

"The Facebook family."

The methods that some studios use when marketing a film that isn't going to necessarily have you run to the theaters because of the star-studded cast, is going to attempt to reach you through the Internet. Especially nowadays since most filmmakers can find finance from people all over the web and still keep ownership of what they've created. We're entering that stage in film making where artistic integrity is beginning to once again be the most important aspect and money is slowly becoming a non-factor. Hollywood studios are having trouble selling movies that continue to pitch the same crap to audiences that are treated like idiots by these same exact studio companies. Think about it, were you as excited after watching the trailer for "Black Swan" than you were when seeing the 8-minute Comic-Con trailer for "Thor"? This is an exciting time in the genre and hopefully it'll force studios to treat the audiences with respect and do something that they were once masters at: produce original films that force some sort of intellectual thought process. This takes me to this years Sundance hit, Catfish.

The same way filmmakers are using the Internet to promote their work, is the same way people are interacting with each other in general. Social networking sites such as Twitter, Facebook, and Tumblr are becoming the new lines of communication.Obviously it has it's advantages, yet the drawbacks seem to be that people are becoming more and more mortified to start an actual relationship with another human being, the traditional way. This movie could have been a modern landmark film that opens the eyes of people who are in fear of allowing themselves to become exposed. Instead, marketing not only built the hype for this film, it decided to pitch it as a psychological thriller and attempt to talk down on today's audience. WE'RE NOT IDIOTS! They're right when they say that "The last 45 minutes will leave you on the edge of your seat", the problem is that they shouldn't act like it's supposed to scare you. The end of this movie sends a beautiful message to those who suffer from self-alienation and really makes you believe that we're all slowly losing touch with every text message, comment, post or tweet.

Hopefully, future independent filmmakers learn from this movie and don't shy way from sending a positive yet tough lesson to society in favor of making some quick money. I call it the Paranormal Activity disorder. Take two pills of Catfish and keep your integrity, filmmakers. Believe me, we're all ready to be challenged.

Day 125: The Bride Wore Black

2010-11-26T21:48:00.001-05:00

"I am Julie Kohler."

Revenge films are slightly exploitative. They play on our attachments to good people by dropping them into horrific situations. Once we see these characters get violated, we often are thirsty for vengeance, a vengeance that must be achieved by any means necessary. Having this appeal allows us to ride along with our protagonists as they throw their moral conscience to the wayside and draw blood from those who did them wrong. Despite my interest in getting redemption, I often find myself asking one question: “What’s the price of revenge?” This question is often overlooked in most revenge films, especially the exploitation films that littered the 60’s and 70’s. Our characters don’t think twice about the violence that will be committed, nor do we as an audience. We gleefully follow along because we know those villains deserve it. Or do they? In most cases, the heinous acts done to protagonists in film are worthy of bloodshed, but can we knowingly go down a road to retribution if the motives of evildoers are ambiguous?

Ambiguity can lead to moral conflict, and this is undoubtedly something we feel in Francois Truffaut’s The Bride Wore Black, an homage to the films of Alfred Hitchcock. Featuring shots that are reminiscent of a Hitchcock film melded with Truffaut’s New Wave sensibilities, The Bride Wore Black is a complex revenge film with a dash of sexualized thrills. Much like Kill Bill, which is eerily similar, Bride tells the tale of a woman whose husband was murdered on their wedding day. Unlike Kill Bill though, Truffaut examines the repercussions of revenge on not only the seedy individuals who are about to be struck by wrath personified, but also the revenge seeker. The woman in question is Julie Kohler (Jeanne Moreau) who, after failing to commit suicide, sets her sights on the five men she believes killed her husband. One by one she meets each of the culprits as she uses her sex appeal to rope them in. Once she has a grip on her victims, Julie tactfully uses the environment to issue a death blow.

Although the counter attacks by Julie are usual fodder for revenge films, Bride is atypical to all of the films with a redemptive streak. In exploitation films, and in most revenge films in general, we’ve seen the act that sets the protagonist off, but Truffaut plays his cards close to the chest. Slowly, but surely the actual events that surround the murder of Julie’s husband are revealed, and they’re done so in a way that makes us uneasy in Julie’s destruction of other human beings because the details are not entirely known. As a matter of fact, we only know as much as she does: the name of the victims and their whereabouts. Through the impeccable guidance of Truffaut and the calculated performance of Moreau, there is not only doubt in ourselves, but in Julie as well. This makes the deaths of the men who haunt Julie’s mind feel unfulfilling. Actually, they seem far more barbaric considering the details are more like silhouettes than anything completely distinguishable. Unfortunately, this is a notion that escapes Julie at first glance. In her first kill, she seems to garner some satisfaction, but as she moves along her hit list, she finds that more resides behind the men than their name on a death list.

Regardless of the taut chase Truffaut constructs, there is one particular aspect of the film that most viewers can’t get past and that’s the knowledge Julie possesses over her husband’s killers. More specifically, how she tracked down five men she possibly couldn't have seen moments after her husband’s murder. Normally I’d want some idea as to how this came about, but ultimately it’s a minor problem that works within the context of Julie’s ambiguous death march. We don’t know everything. Instead, we move forward under the guise that we know enough to justify Julie’s vindictive acts. The same can be said for Julie. She keeps working down her list, hoping what she’s doing can be rationalized as a victim’s response. With there being a lack of truth until the end, revenge doesn’t become a cathartic act. In reality, it becomes a burden to everyone involved.

Day 124: No Country for Old Men

2010-11-25T21:59:00.000-05:00

"What's the most you ever lost on a coin toss?"

After my first viewing of No Country for Old Men, I admit I was slightly disappointed, but more so due to my lack of ability in falling into the film than with the film itself. Please, let me explain. The film itself is good. It’s tight and well paced, on the slower side but with good reason, not only as a representation of the slower, more drawn out lives of the Texans that populate the landscape of the film, but also as a counterpoint to the rabid violence and tension that erupts frequently throughout the film.

The acting is magnificent throughout; there is no doubt about that. Not a bad apple in the barrel. My problem is with the characters themselves. Why should I care about a chase movie? Because I care about the characters, and that they come out okay. Who is the main guy being chased? Well, he stole a bag full of money from a scene of slaughtered men and left one man half dead without alerting anyone, but then tried to go back that night. Not to get him to a hospital or anything sensible like that, no, he’s bringing him a jug of water. Well, now I really like him!

So he runs. A lot. And the guy chasing him kills people. A lot. It almost becomes redundant. They had both been injured so many times that when someone woke up in a hospital I didn’t even know for what. The violence is super realistic, as it should be, and is less startling the fifteenth time you’ve seen it. You almost start to understand how Anton, the killer, could be so cool with doing it so often. Seen one, you seen ‘em all.

But back to my aforementioned point about not being able to fall into it. This was mainly due to the fact that every time anything happened in the movie, be it tension rising, a shooting, a death, a speech, a person walking, or the freakin’ grass blowing, the people behind me had something to say. It was never enough for me to shoosh them, just enough to totally take me out of the movie and be slightly annoyed. It was made all the worse because the guy was directly behind me, so I heard his every twitch, sigh, and moan. I could feel as he ate his popcorn.

I am not better than him. We are both moviegoers. He just kind of pissed me off, that’s all. When I took this experience and compared it with the time I saw Sideways in theatres I began to draw conclusions. When I saw Sideways I was totally in the zone, with my father and my friend beside me. We all laughed, cheered, and sobbed together. The whole audience was on the same vibes. It was a magical experience, the kind you hope for, and the kind that makes you think you saw a masterpiece.

Sideways is no masterpiece. I learned this when I saw it in theatres again with a different audience and different friends. It was enjoyable, and is a pretty good film, but nothing like I remembered. Now I accept the fact that I disliked my experience of No Country more than the film itself. Had I found that groove, I may have sat down at this computer to write a glowing review and see it in theatres again only to realize that it’s just pretty good.

A film is not just a film. It is a malleable experience. Going to a theatre is always a gamble. I know I’m extremely neurotic about how I view films in the privacy of my own home, but paying the money to see a movie how it is meant to be seen can be proven as a good or bad decision by an innumerable amount of variables.

So for now, I think No Country was alright. It’s great in how it subverts preconceptions, but so increasingly repetitive that one no longer cares. It is a film of great technical precision, not so much of emotional impact or lasting importance.

Day 123: Juno

2010-11-24T18:40:00.000-05:00

"Hi, I'm calling to procure a hasty abortion..."

Back in 2007, I was fortunate enough to attend a free preview screening of Juno. It stars Ellen Page, who you wouldn’t even recognize from her turn as a vicious vixen in Hard Candy, as a high schooler who gets pregnant. It is a quiet love story, an eccentric comedy, and a mature second feature from Jason Reitman, director of Thank You for Smoking and Up in the Air.

Everything about the movie is good, but the writing in particular is of note. It was written by first timer Diablo Cody, an ex-stripper. Juno is her first venture into scriptwriting, and wow, what an entrance. The dialogue of Juno and her friends is of over-educated and slightly displaced teenagers who are struggling to match their emotions with their IQ’s. There are many laugh out loud moments in the film, with Juno’s penchant for blunt quips that get to the heart of things. The film is endlessly quotable and extremely clever.

The fact that it sounds cheesy when I write about it is to the film’s credit that it pulls everything off without seeming overdone in the least. The characters are fully fleshed, even in minor roles, and acting is spectacular all around. The editing gets a little flashy, but never enough to be distracting, quite on the contrary to Thank You for Smoking’s fiasco. Reitman understood that this story is too pure to need stylistic fireworks.

The structure of it, going from autumn round to summer is telling. Though decidedly not Hollywood in any sense, it is an uplifting film. There was a perfect balance between the tragic and comic moments in the film, often intermingled. And one of the best elements of the whole film was the soundtrack. The music is diverse and interesting, but all fits a very specific mood of gently sweet and mildly downbeat. From The Velvet Underground’s “I’m Sticking With You” to The Moldy Peach’s “Anyone Else But You,” all of the cues are spot on.

I’m refraining from giving away the plot simply because people deserve to see it fresh. Juno is an affecting, honest, and nice little indie movie. Give it a rent if you haven’t seen it yet.