SAM MCDUNNA

Spring Breakers (2012)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 07 Oct 2013 01:35:00 +0000

There is a new style of camerawork that has been growing extremely popular among directors in recent years– which mostly consists of freehanded, extreme close-ups of the film’s characters. In my humble opinion, I find it as an incredibly irritating and lazy attempt to force the viewer to focus on the particular character’s emotions. Zooming in on an actor’s face so much that one can literally count the hairs up his or her nose is not crafty storytelling.

That’s not to say the shot is always a mistake. In fact, if used correctly, the shot can be quite effective. Bit it s a tool that should be used sparingly, or, if you’re like me, motion sickness is sure to endure. Along with recent flicks Cyrus and Les Misérables, Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers is the newest entry into this new fad, and the overuse of awkward camera angles is the least of it’s problems.

Four college girls become broke and desperate to go on a c-r-a-z-y spring break, so they decide to rob a joint nearby, and successfully so. Unfortunately, their c-r-a-z-y spring break is rudely interrupted when they are arrested for doing drugs. A local drug lord known as Alien (James Franco) bails them out, and it is only a downward spiral for the girls from there, when they become heavily involved in crime and drugs.

Structurally, the film is a mess. It is similar to the experience of watching a music video that attempts to tell a complete story within it’s 3-5 minute timeframe, but fails spectacularly. A good portion of the film it spent replaying uninteresting narration while something is happening, like a cruel spoof of a Terrence Malick film.

The only somewhat positive aspect of Spring Breakers is James Franco’s performance, which was inspired by Dangeruss, a rapper who resides in St. Petersburg, Florida (or, depending on who you ask, by rapper Riff Raff). His role as Alien is clearly different from anything we’re used to him doing, but it’s a performance that isn’t easy to swallow, because Alien is almost as annoying as he is a complete dolt.

In fact, just about every character in Spring Breakers fits that description rather well– stupid and annoying. Faith (Selena Gomez), is the only character who wasn’t totally unredeemable and didn’t seem to completely slaughter her brain cells in… erm, Key West? Miami? Malibu? Does it matter? Only she smartened up and bailed early, which is great and all, until you realize you’re stuck with the rest of the brats.

Korine doesn't even attempt to bother us with a central theme here, other than if you want something bad enough, you can do whatever you want to get it without suffering any terrible consequences – because, yay! Spring break! Between watching James Franco perform a hardcore blowjob on a pistol and watching bikini-clad teenagers destroy an entire drug empire with a pair of Uzi guns (entirely unscathed, mind you), it doesn’t matter whether you choose to take the film seriously or not. When the movie is halfway over and there still isn’t even one character who the audience has an ounce of sympathy for, it’s difficult to give the film the benefit of a doubt – it’s a total dud.

Concerning Roger Ebert

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 04:51:00 +0000

I am ashamed to admit that I never really watched Siskel & Ebert & The Movies during its original syndication on television, because my enjoyment of films weren't realized until much later, in my teen years. I found myself invested in this newly founded passion, but was at a loss in finding ways to express it. A reason for this was that I simply didn't know anyone who shared the same hobby as me; at least not on the same level.

While I of course was aware of Roger Ebert's existence and legendary status of a film critic, it wasn't until I officially decided to make a career in film when I began to read his reviews more seriously. Ebert's opinion of a film was the first one I checked every time, and at first, this was honestly because he was the only critic I was aware of – what Michael Jordan is to basketball, Roger Ebert is to film criticism. So for a while, until I became fondly aware of some other, lesser-known critics online, his opinion about a movie was the only one I cared for. However, this happened to be around the time that he was diagnosed with typhoid cancer, and spent a lot of time making non-film related entries on his websites like his own blog and Twitter.

While many film critics remembered Ebert for how he was during his prime, I only remember him for his later years, when he no longer exclusively wrote about movies. He wrote about everything from death and God, to his mourning for the simple things in life that he took for granted before cancer entered his life, like the ability to enjoy time with friends at a restaurant. I believe these kind of entries made him more human. He was no longer just a legendary film critic. He became a philosopher and philanthropist, among other things. He just happened to apply his rare combination of talent and wisdom to movie reviews, despite his collapsing health.

Originally, I wanted to direct films myself. But as my own health started to slowly decline because of CF, I found myself unfortunately more comfortable sitting in front of a computer, behind a desk. Whether I like it or not, this is where I'll likely be for most of my professional life. So I applied my love for films in the only way I knew how – by writing about them. I have always tried to apply his attitude about his life to my own. Obviously, my current state of health is no where near that of Ebert's during the last decade or so of his life, but I still struggle to be constant with my writing. I have failed many, many times to not let my disease hinder my passion and get the best of me. To this day, I am still trying.

While I don't doubt my love for film, I have always struggled to understand exactly why. But only two days ago I read an entry by Ebert himself, on the Chicago Sun-Times:

"At this point in my life, in addition to writing about movies, I may write about what it's like to cope with health challenges and the limitations they can force upon you. It really stinks that the cancer has returned and that I have spent too many days in the hospital. So on bad days I may write about the vulnerability that accompanies illness. On good days, I may wax ecstatic about a movie so good it transports me beyond illness."

Upon reading this excerpt, my eyes began to water. Because that's how much movies (and writing about them) meant to him. He could have put a stop to his career several years ago, and nobody would have thought lesser of him. But even from his own deathbed, Ebert still chose to focus as much as his free time as possible to movies, because he knew it was his only hope of letting is soul temporarily escape from his declining body. If that's not inspiration for me (or you) to pursue my goals, I don't know what is.

I not only realize now how fruitless my struggles are in comparison, but also that my relationship with film is on a very similar personal level to his. It's not just a hobby, it's a state of mind. It's a gift of life that we can escape to, like a dream of the conscious.

Two days later, he died. This impacted me in ways that I really do not understand. I feel like I lost a friend, which I know is silly, because Ebert was not aware of my existence. But I like to think that if I met him, he would understand my constant struggle between my disease and dream of being a respected film critic, and I try to wonder what he would tell me.

Many people today have thanked Ebert for the inspiration he has given them, that they owe their careers to him. Today, I thank Ebert for opening my mind. There are many dark days ahead, but I still deserve to enjoy them as much as the good ones.

RIP

MAD, Day VIII: Bernie (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 20:27:00 +0000

Bernie isn't exactly a documentary, because it's been reenacted by some of the biggest stars in Hollywood. It's not a mockumentary either, because many of the real-life Bernie's friends and associates are being interviewed throughout the film. Only, Matthew McConaughey is being "interviewed" as the local district attorney like the real interviewees, so the line between what is authentic and what's not often becomes hazy.
Directed by Richard Linklater, creator of cult-favorites like Slacker and Dazed and Confused, Bernie is based on the true story about a funeral home directer who murders a nasty and wealthy widow (Shirley MacLaine) who he became emotionally bound to after the death of her husband, and financially bound to after she promised him her entire estate following her death. Can't imagine why he killed her. Nuh-uh.

Bernie (Jack Black), aside from being a funeral home director, is a jack of all trades who's talents are more widespread than Donnie Osmond's, and is just generally loved by everybody he meets. If Shirley MacLaine's fantastic performance is any indication to just how mean and awful Marjorie Nugent really was, then I will join the Free Bernie campaign myself. Bernie is liked so much and Marjorie was hated so much that even when he openly confesses to shooting an old lady four times in the back with an armadillo rifle, the community chooses to pretend it never happened, that is, until the case went to court.

It should excite me that I was pleasantly surprised by Jack Black's performance, but it only made me more frustrated because it is probable that his next starring role (besides the inevitable Kung Fu Panda sequel, which has a strong fan base) will suck. The one after that, too.

The film has a similar structure to Dateline on NBC – we are introduced to a seemingly wonderful and kind man who's totally not capable of murder, and, whaddya know, he totally pushed his one-legged grandmother in the pool to collect her summer house in the Bahamas. Every now and then, we will also hear the opinions about it from people who have virtually nothing to do with the situation, other than usually being in a 10-mile radius of the accused.

Unlike Dateline, however, the night doesn't end with the audience taking a fully-clothed ice cold shower before drinking themselves to death because of the massive cliffhanger every goddamn episode seems to leave us on. Seriously, Dateline, would it kill you (Get it?) to give tie up just one episode with a solid conclusion?

Ahem, anyway, no, the ending isn't at all ambiguous, not even for a second. Aside from being based on a true story, the plot summary on Bernie's IMDB page reads:

"In small-town Texas, the local mortician strikes up a friendship with a wealthy widow, though when he kills her, he goes to great lengths to create the illusion that she's alive."

Since we are aware of the film's (arguably) biggest climax from the start, the only questions that are left to ponder are when, why and how, as we wait for Bernie to finally lose his shit and snap.

Bernie is certainly a lot of fun, if you can appreciate a lot of the great dialogue (both written and improvised). Action-wise, there is not a lot going on, so this might draw some people away. But Jack Black delivers one of the most under-appreciated performances of the year, and even McConaughey is worth sticking around for, and the film might go on record for being his first performance without, not even once, taking off his shirt. Props!

Available to stream on NETFLIX

Trailer:

MAD, Day VII: Five Feet and Rising (2000)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 18:10:00 +0000

Five Feet and Rising is a short film directed by Peter Sollett, more recently unknown for the rather lackluster Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist (2008). The film is a day in the life of Victor (Victor Rasuk, Lords of Dogtown), a twelve year-old living in New York City.
On a hot summer day, Victor meets Amanda (Judy Marte), a girl at a local pool, but she disappears and he spends the next day trying to find her again. His search for the girl is really an excuse for the audience to get a fly-on-the-wall perspective of his neighborhood, the lives of the kids that inhabit it, and how they interact with Victor and each other. Observation: most if them have really poor manners.

In fact, the film has many of the same vibes to that of Kids, a 1995 film with a similar setting (although not nearly as traumatic).

When Victor finally finds Amanda, and he puts his suave moves on her, the improvisation is so organic and natural that I was beginning to have flashbacks to my adolescence, and how disgustingly sweaty I would get within a 5-mile radius of being near a girl.

As simple and short as the film is, the feeling of realism and authenticity is undeniable. Incidentally, most of the actors (save the protagonist) were not actors, but merely locals presumably told to improvise and ignore the camera.

The film is not perfect by any means, but it won the Short Filmmaking Award at the 2000 Sundance Festival, despite being a student film. It is also only 28 minutes long, so it's absolutely worth taking the time to check it out. Director Sollett actually went on to make a sequel of sorts as a feature film, but it failed to make as many waves as its predecessor.

Watch the short below:

MAD, Day VI: A Town Called Panic (2009)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 04:25:00 +0000

A Town Named Panic is a stop-animation film based off of a popular television series originating in Belgium. According to Wikipedia, every episode is roughly 5 minutes long, so a leap into a 90-minute film is a big step in terms of storytelling and structure. It's almost as if it was decided to make Robot Chicken into a feature film, which sounds like a disgusting nightmare. Hearing good things about it on the interwebs, I gave it a shot anyway. Turns out, it's actually kind of hilarious. It finds similar ground to that of Team America: World Police, although not nearly as raunchy or R-rated, but there are a couple cusses that catch you off guard and makes it all the more funnier. It's difficult to talk about it without discussing the plot a bit, so I will try to sum up it in the simplest way possible:
A horse named Horse lives with an indian named Indian and a cowboy named Cowboy. It is Horse's birthday, but Cowboy and Indian forgot. So while Horse leaves to sign up for piano lessons in order to get closer to Madame Longrée, the lady-horse of his dreams (got it so far?), Cowboy and Indian come up with a plan to build Horse a new barbecue. Only problem is, they are out of bricks. So they order bricks online (with same-day shipping, of course). But instead of order 50 bricks, they accidentally order 50 million. Panicked, Cowboy and Indian hide the bricks before Horse gets home. When he finally arrives, they have a great party with their friends (still with me?). Unfortunately when the parties over, we discover that Cowboy and Indian hid the bricks on top of their home, and the three of them barely escape before the bricks crush their home. The next day, they have no choice but to rebuild their home with the bricks they bought. But every night when they are asleep in their neighbor's barn, someone keeps stealing their unfinished walls, making the previous day's work all for naught. So they finally decide to hide by the walls at night and catch the thief in the act. When they see three mermen stealing their walls, an intense chase ensues (stop nodding your head, I know you haven't been paying attention since the first sentence). Two of the mermen escape, but they manage to corner one named Gerard when they accidentally fall through a trap door in a strange shed that they found. When they find Gerard, the ground below them begins to crumble and they begin to head straight for the center of the Earth, which is filled with deadly magma and...hey! Wake up! Oh I'm sorry, did I disturb you? You fell asleep, didn't you? Don't lie, you were lying face-down on the desk. Oh, you had a long day, did you? You know what? I'm done. You can go back to your precious nap now, if you're such a workaholic. See what I care. *sobs*

Seriously, though on the next rainy day, watch this flick – you'll get many chuckles out of it. You can actually watch the film in it's ENTIRETY, for FREE, on YouTube:

MAD, Day V: Love (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 05:05:00 +0000

There is a notorious story about the late Howard Hughes, and how he shut himself in a studio for 4 months, letting no one else in, and all the whole doing silly things like peeing in jars and refusing to shave or put pants on. This event was sort-of-famously depicted in Martin Scorsese's The Aviator.

Imagine that scene, but 119 minutes long. I am almost positive it is very similar to the experience of watching Love.

A number of ambitious films out there that focus on the sanity of man when they are isolated from all human contact for a long period of time. These scripts not only test the protagonist's sanity, but the audience's as well. It is a huge risk to make a film that stars, literally, one person for a majority of the screen time, because it is asking the audience to accept the many limitations that come along with it. There are so many different factors and obstacles that are needed to work perfectly just to make the film at all interesting.

When Tom Hanks was stranded on an island in Cast Away, there is absolutely no musical score. To add to the feeling of solitude, all we hear are waves crashing and Tom Hanks having conversations with a volleyball. But somehow, the movie works.

Buried is another film that successfully pulls this off – it takes place in one location for the entire duration of the film (inside a coffin, no less), officially 1-upping every "bottle episode" ever made on television, forever. Obviously, a concept like this requires heavily on convincing acting and direction to be at all enjoyable (it is).

Unfortunately, the film is not at all like Cast Away or Buried, nor does it aspire to be. Instead, it emits heavy influence from Stanley Kubrick's 2001: Space Odyssey and Duncan Jones' Moon, with a dash of some "deep", Terrance Malick-style narration during some trippy sequences than can only be pleasurable while on hallucinative drugs.

Love was directed by William Eubank and, for some reason, produced by Tom Delonge. If you are under the age of 30, then you might know Delonge as the frontman of blink-182 and Angels & Airwaves. The film opens in the middle of a bloody battle during the Civil War, and we are introduced to Lee Briggs, the only Union soldier to make it out alive. We suddenly jump nearly two centuries ahead to an astronaut also named Lee (Gunner Wright) in space, doing space stuff. His contact with Earth is mysteriously cut off, and we get the pleasure of watching him go bat-shit crazy. Only, it isn't the interesting, Jack Torrance-kind-of-crazy. Just a dude that's really, really, really bored on a spaceship. Instead of anticipating when he finally snaps and starts defecating in jars, we are just bored with him (he did stop shaving, though).

For a movie with such little dialogue, the words that actually make the cut are incredibly weak: "If you guys are doing some kind of isolation test, or stress experiments, well then you can stop now because...because I'm very isolated and very stressed!" Way to stick it to the man, Lee.

He eventually finds a journal written by Briggs, whose words inspired him so much that he finally decides to "abandon his post", and head back to Earth. He also shaves.

During the last act, when he finally returns to Earth (or wherever he is), the influence from Space Odyssey is too difficult to ignore. In other words, we watch an astronaut in a full spacesuit who's totally not in space, but is instead wandering around an uninhabited Earth, like some acid trip from hell. "Look at the silly astronaut sitting at a bus stop!"All hope here to connect with the film is entirely lost.

Aside from some cool looking Civil War set pieces, that's honestly it. Eubank tries hard to express the importance of human connection, but is sadly ironic because he fails miserably at doing just that with Love.

If you still wanna give it a shot, you can watch it now on NETFLIX.

Trailer:

MAD, DAY IV: Battle Royale (2000)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 18 Mar 2013 05:32:00 +0000

If I were a pretentious hipster, I would spend a majority of this review describing the similarities between Battle Royale and The Hunger Games, and how, like, Suzanne Collins ripped off Koushun Takami, dude. To your benefit, I won't do that, but it really is difficult to review one without bringing up the other.
A few years back I took a screenwriting class, and we were given an exercise: all the students were given the first few pages of a script, and the objective was to finish it so that eventually, the finished products are able to be compared with one other. Some scripts were drastically different, others shared several similarities, but none of them were the same. If you accept the plot of a bunch of kids on an island are forced to kill each other to the one standing, there is a lot of room to work with. So while Battle Royale and Hunger Games certainly fit in the "several similarities" category, they both consist of different themes and values. Also, Battle Royale is a helluva lot bloodier.

Considering that the film clocks in at just under 2 hours. and that there are 42 students to kill off, time is clearly a factor, so Battle Royale wastes very little time. The kids are abducted and dumped in a battlefield within the first 20 minutes of the film – 15 of which were used to explain the rules and killing a couple of them just to prove to the kids that it wasn't an elaborate prank.

Battle Royale borders B-movie quality because (most of) the kids on the island seem to transform from innocent school children to ruthless, psychotic killers in the blink of an eye. Of course, there are the few that seem to keep their sanity and refuse to be apart of the game, but the ratio of scumbags to decent kids is startling, but no less entertaining.

I imagine that a lot of more characters were given more time and background in the novel which the film was based on, and that their deaths are probably more impactful on page than on screen, which is frustrating. It would have been more beneficial to simply cut the cast in half to give the audience more time to breathe and invest in these characters, most of which we know are going to have die in unfathomable ways.

Every now and then the film will show a Lost-esque flashback explaining the background of a few characters, in an attempt to make them a little more human. But with 42 different backgrounds, it is impossible to invest in them all, and that's where the script falls short. The attempt to find the characters more relatable is noble, but is mostly ineffective – even the film's main villain is a bore. Almost every time when a competitor died, it had just about no effect on me, because I had no idea who he or she was – just more flesh and bone tossed aside before we got to the deaths that mattered.

Other than a couple of oddballs who were actually handy with a weapon, there really weren't any deaths that mattered, because there is nearly no one to root for. Most of the screen time is given to a boy and a girl who appear to be one of the very few kids on the island who refuse to participate in the game, and side with an estranged transfer student, who happens to have only past worth caring about.

The truth is that other than a few key moments, the dialogue just isn't very well written. The action sequences, however, are a blast to watch. They become even more entertaining when you realize that these kids can take a lot of bullets before they are finally put down, so the death scenes are always extremely overdramatized, and yet amusing as hell.

Bottom line: don't expect a deep story with a rich background in Battle Royale – just have fun counting the tally of a bunch of imaginatively gory deaths that even Tarantino would be proud of (and probably is proud of, because he is apparently a rabid fan of the flick).

Watch it now on NETFLIX.

Trailer:

MAD, Day III: Life of Pi (2012)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 17 Mar 2013 07:15:00 +0000

I was one of the millions who adored Life of Pie when the novel was released in 2001, but I instantly thought it to be un-filmable. Aside from the obvious CGI complications, the idea of watching a boy spend half a year on a boat with a cranky tiger, while at the same time not being absolutely silly seemed highly unlikely. Then came The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

The Fellowship of the Ring was an absolute game changer, and coincidently released the same year Life of Pi was published. To successfully bring a story of that scale to theaters was a magnificent achievement for cinema, and made the idea of a Life of Pi adaptation a piece of cake in comparison.

So finally, 11 years later, the widely popular book was adapted for the big screen, and it's difficult to imagine it being any more faithful to the product it was based on. Director Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Brokeback Mountain), could have easily jumped right to the good stuff from the opening scene with the ship going down and watching the titular character (Suraj Sharma) have his shenanigans with his on again/off again pal tiger named Richard Parker. But it is a good half hour (at least) before Pi and his family ever step foot on the boat. Instead, the first act is focused entirely on his childhood, and even delves into the concepts of faith, religion and God, some of the most important themes depicted in the novel. A small feat, yes, but another topic that could have been avoided altogether, but admirably wasn't.

One Pi is stranded on the raft, the film really becomes mostly about drooling over the fantastic special effects, and it's clear that Lee tries to show it off on more than one occasion, as the camera seems to forget about the boat and drifts away and focus on things that have basically nothing to do with the plot, as if Lee is saying "'Hey look, a while!' 'Ooohhh cool, look at all those pretty jellyfish!' 'Ha ha! Look at those silly meekrats!'"

Richard Parker also happens to be one of those CGI characters that you not only sympathize with, but somehow more so than with the actual human beings on the film (think Gollum from LOTR or Caesar from Rise of the Planet of the Apes). Not because of poor acting, but simply because of the phenomenal, detailed effects that were put into the virtual creature. These details didn't just make the predator nice to look at, but made it's relationship with Pi all the more believable and compassionate.

Life of Pi has a big heart, and that's the most accurate description I can possibly give about the film. It bursts with several themes, among faith, friendship, and love, even though at times it isn't quite sure exactly what it has to say about any of it. Lee seems to go all Spielbergy on us at times by catching you off guard with a few tearjerking moments, and most of the time, it succeeds. It is highly likely you will experience some sort of warm or emotional feeling in your gut by the end credits. I know you cried for Richard Parker at the end of the film. It's OK. I won't tell anyone.

Trailer:

MAD, Day II: Monty Python's the Meaning of Life (1983)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 04:35:00 +0000

Usually, people tend to have a love 'em or hate 'em attitude towards the group, and the same rule applies for The Meaning of Life: if you're a fan of Monty Python's other work like Flying Circus, The Holy Grail, British comedy, or awesome things, then you will appreciate this. If not, then stay away.

The Meaning of Life was one of the last feature films created by the legendary comedy troupe that I had yet to see, and of course I wasn't disappointed. However, when watching the film, I couldn't help but wonder, "How does one review a Monty Python movie?" To be honest, I think it's quite impossible - I mean, c'mon...it's Monty friggin' Python!

So instead of wasting your time with an unnecessarily long analysis of what is really just a movie consisting of a bunch of ridiculously silly and random sketches (and yet, still brilliant), I will just make a bunch of stray observations about it that I liked in particular. I'm also going to assume you watched it. Or not. I don't care.

This is the group's most expensive film, and it is apparent from the absurdly epic opening sequence (a prologue/short film entitled The Crimson Permanent Assurance, and probably my favorite part of the film).
What's great about a lot of Monty Python sketches is just when you think the sketch has to be over, because how could they possibly stretch it out any longer, it just keeps going and getting even more goofy to the point that even if you weren't on board with the sketch at first, it's likely you've taken the bait and are slapping your knees. The group takes this tactic even more over the top this time, and on more than a few occasions.
The "Find the Fish" sequence was definitely awkward (but no less funny), so I can't help but think how audiences felt about it during it's initial release. I can totally picture disgruntled people walking out during this scene.
Is it bad that the loudest I laughed was during the animated leaves-falling-from-the-tree gag?
I was surprisingly impressed with the Grim Reaper costume. So much that it was one of the best appearances I've seen by the Reap on film (that's a nickname I just invented for him).
Loved the "answer" to the ultimate question at the very end. Underwhelming, yes, but can you really doubt that it's a good philosophy to live by?

A few of my favorite quotes (via IMDB):

Hospital Administrator: And what are you doing this morning?

Obstetrician: It's a birth.

Hospital Administrator: Ah. And what sort of thing is that?

Dr. Spenser: Well, that's where we take a new baby out of a lady's tummy.

Hospital Administrator: Wonderful what we can do nowadays.

Mrs. Hendy: Do all philosophers have an 'S' in them?

Grim Reaper: You are all dead. I am Death.

Host: Well, that's cast rather a gloom over the evening, hasn't it?

New Mother: Is it a boy or a girl?

Obstretrician: I think it's a bit early to start imposing roles on it, don't you?

Watch on NETFLIX

Trailer:

Movie-a-Day, Part I: The Conversation (1974)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 22:40:00 +0000

Compared to many of Francis Ford Coppola's films, The Conversation is relatively tame, especially due to the fact that it was released in '74, two years after The Godfather. The film has one of those plots that are extremely simple and rather bland in theory, but if put in the right hands, it can go a long way — in this case, an audio surveillance expert who is hired to spy on a mysterious couple uncovers a potential conspiracy, and spends much of the movie deciding whether or not to close his eyes to it, or risk his life to save others.
What makes this movie work isn't the story itself, but the obsession in trying to understand the peculiar mind of Harry Caul (Gene Hackman). He is very unsocial and secretive, and doesn't own a telephone. He tells absolutely no one a truthful thing about his career or personal life, although he is damn good at his job. The only thing that is at all human about Caul is his skills with a saxophone, which appears to be his only way of venting his emotions (by himself, of course).

In fact, when his partner Stan (the late John Cazale), who seems to be the closest thing to Caul that fits the definition of "friend", attempts to play some recordings of his saxophone sessions, he becomes so furious to the point where it actually is the angriest he gets during the entire film, aside from another incident where he was obliviously recorded on tape. Both of these outbursts were due to an invasion of his privacy, which is obviously ironic because of his profession. Caul is a purist, but the higher the conspiracy rises to the surface, the more it is like watching a brilliantly built robot beginning to break down and start sputtering obscenities before it's ultimate demise.

In the final scene, upon finding out that his apartment is bugged and that his secrets aren't so secret after all, he emotionlessly strips down his entire apartment. Everything from the floorboards to all of his belongings. When he finishes with failure to find what he was looking for, he resorts to unwinding, in the only form he knows how: by playing the blues.

What truly makes this an undeniably great film however, is the awkward feeling when the credits are rolling — the paranoia that no one is safe any more. If you have a secret, by god, someone will find out about it (assuming they care about your passion for Love Actually that's "under wraps", which they don't). In critic Pauline Kiel's review of the film upon it's original release, she noted:

"It's a little thin...but it's a buggy movie that can get you so that when it's over you really feel you're being bugged."

It should be repeated that this movie was released in 1974 — 39 years ago. If audiences felt that "buggy" feeling that they could be watched at any given time back in '74, imagine how audiences feel now.

It's no secret that the whole "a-media-expert-uncovers-a-crazy-conspiracy" thing is not very original, but every once in a while there will be a film that surprises us like Michelangelo Antonioni's Blow-up and Brian De Palma's Blow Out (the latter is clearly inspired by the former and The Conversation). At it's core, The Conversation is a really well-made thriller — well-made because of its, you know, thrills, but also because of it's complexity that many one-note thrillers seem to lack: depth.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to shut my blinds and turn of the lights because that old man conveniently sitting on his porch across the street from me is highly suspicious.

Honorable Mention: Harrison Ford plays a handsomely creepy, villainous businessman. Is that not reason enough alone for checking it out?

Available on Netflix

Trailer:

Oh Hey, it's Been a While

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 05:54:00 +0000

Wow. So my last post was June 5th. That was nine months ago. 282 days, without writing (I did the math in seconds using a "date calculator" that I found on the internet - isn't technology amazing?). Other than the occasional tweet here and there, that was probably the last time I wrote anything more than an original paragraph. After taking several punches, I started to lose faith in myself as a writer. A battle which I'm sure any writer has gone through at least once (or so I hope).

It began as starting a review or article that I sincerely planned on finishing and publishing, only to lose interest in it about halfway through and deleting it altogether. A half-page turned into a few sentences, and a few sentences turned into nothing. Just a blank document that I would stare for a while at and eventually walk away from. It felt like an unexplainable phenomenon that I couldn't wrap my head around. All I've ever wanted to be, for several years, is a journalist in film. I knew that the only way to keep about it would be to keep writing. Every day. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't even bring myself to watch films as much as I used to, before that dreaded day in June. I went from watching 3-4 films a week to maybe one, if I was lucky.

As I'm writing this, I currently have Kenneth Lonergan's Margaret rented out from Netflix since the 18th of August. Thats's seven months, 29 weeks, 208 days, 4992 hours, 299,520 minutes, and 17,971,200 seconds from now (seriously, this date calculator is sweet). I also had Sean Durkin's Martha Marcy May Marlene for quite some time, but finally got around to watching it a few weeks ago (fine flick, check it out). I now have Pete Travis' adaptation of Dredd beginning the ritual of collecting dust until it finally serves it's purpose.

The point that I'm making with the super awesome date calculator is that I intend to make up for all those months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds lost. As of today, I am attempting my very own "movie-a-day" challenge. I don't exactly know what I hope to get out of it, other than the possibility that if I force myself to watch something new everyday, and write at least a paragraph about it, I will be taking one more step towards my goal of a career. Ask any writer what the best way to get better at the form is, and all they will tell you is to write. All the time, goddammit, and don't stop. And that's what I tend to do, only I'm also throwing movies into the mix.

My only fear is that I will wake up tomorrow, and do what I did nine months ago: not care. In another step to prevent this, I am taking a page out of Jerry Seinfeld's book, and am using his "Don't Break the Chain" method to increase productivity. I have a nice, big Boston Terrier calendar six inches from where I am sitting right now (it's my girlfriend's calendar, I swear). Every day that I complete a task (in my case, watching a flick and writing about it) I mark off the day with a nice big 'X'. The idea is to not break the chain of X's.

It just might be too idiot-proof for me to screw this up. Hopefully, by June 5th of this year, I will have completed a nice, 83-day streak.

First X: Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation.

Take Shelter

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 06 Jun 2012 03:40:00 +0000

In 2007, newcomer Jeff Nichols directed his powerful debut film Shotgun Stories. The film stars Michael Shannon and focuses on two separate groups of half-brothers who are at a grudgingly brutal war with one another, despite the fact that they all share the same father. The film focuses on several powerful themes, mainly the senselessness of violence and revenge, and how it can only end in tragedy. The film received much critical acclaim, and yet it still remains relatively unknown to mass audiences to this day.

Four years later, Nichols finally made his follow-up feature, Take Shelter, and Michael Shannon returns also, with a similar character arc to his role in Shotgun Stories. While he acts with good intentions, he only brings himself and everyone close to him in a downward spiral.

Shannon stars as Curtis LaForche, an everyday working man from a small town in Ohio, where he lives with his wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain) and their deaf daughter Hannah. Curtis suddenly begins to have disturbing dreams with horrific events, like strangers kidnapping his daughter and his closest friends suddenly trying to harm him.

Reluctant to tell anyone, he visits his mother, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia, in fear that he might be developing the same illness. The visit is enough for Curtis to confirm his own suspicion that he is sick, and secretly begins seeing a therapist.

While every dream is different, they all have one interconnecting similarity: they all take place during an apocalyptic-like storm, so Curtis interprets them as a glimpse into the future. In spite of showing awareness of his sickness, he still feels the need to prepare for a delusional storm. As the dreams progressively become more violent and traumatizing, so does his mind, and people around him begin to notice, and his life begins to crumble.

While there are many films with a story that are told from the point of view of a schizophrenic (A Beautiful Mind, Fight Club, etc), the protagonist's illness is often not immediately revealed to the audience, and is instead used as a twist ending. Take Shelter differs from these films because it is immediately implied that Curtis is developing a mental disorder from the start. Knowing this, it seems the film will inevitably end in tragedy.

Depending on how you interpret the ending, that is exactly what Take Shelter is - a tragedy. Every action Curtis takes to protect his family from harm ironically only distances himself from his wife and friends, and instead of trying to fight the unnecessary urge to to build a storm shelter in his backyard, risking his both his job and marriage, he simply goes with it and accepts the consequences, as if he has no choice.

The film is very slow paced, so it heavily relies on actors to create characters that the audience care about and can invest in, since the script is almost entirely lacking in action. Fortunately enough, the actors are terrific all around. Michael Shannon's performance goes without saying - he is rapidly becoming one of those actors whose presence on screen requires that you never look away (Boardwalk Empire and Revolutionary Road are testaments to this), and his role as Curtis is no different. It is a shame, because Shannon simply doesn't get the credit that he deserves as an actor.

Jessica Chastain is a living definition of a breakout star, coming seemingly out of no where in 2011 and delivering six terrific performances in one year, two of which were nominated for multiple Academy Awards (The Help and The Tree of Life). Her work in Take Shelter only further confirms her talent, because while Shannon and Chastain make an unlikely couple, they somehow have terrific chemistry together onscreen.

While the script is very polished, it does have a few drawbacks to it. The daughter's deafness, for example, is questionable in terms of it's contribution to the story. All that it seems to prove is that Curtis and Samantha are good parents, because they still love her all the same. However, the fact that the audience doesn't have to deal with the unbearable sound of a bratty child whining and moaning at random moments throughout the film is always a bonus.

Only two movies in, and Jeff Nichols is proving himself to be a marvelous talent behind the camera, and I am already excited to see what his follow up feature will be. A lot of viewers might be out off by the last couple minutes of Take Shelter because of it's "open for interpretation" ending, but it is really irrelevant to how solid the film is. If you're one of them close-minded folk who need proper closure by the time the screen fades to black, you have been warned. But chances are, if you're reading this, you aren't.

The Adventures of Tintin

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 06 Jun 2012 03:24:00 +0000

Lots of people might argue that legendary filmmaker Steven Spielberg has lost his touch as an artist as of late, having not crafted a film to completely woo audiences since 2003, the year both Catch Me if You Can and Minority Report were released. His works since then, like Munich, War of the Worlds, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and even his most recent film, War Horse, have all been criticized for failing to capture the same magic of hisRaiders of the Lost Ark and E.T. days. While this certainly open for debate (Munich is an exceptionally well-made film), it is difficult to have lost faith in Spielberg with his new adaptation of The Adventures of Tintin.

In collaboration with fellow director Peter Jackson, Tintin is Spielberg’s directorial debut in animation, based on the French comic book series created by the late Hergé. Of course, Jackson brought WETA, his special effects company, with him as well as Andy Serkis (who performed the motion capture for Gollum in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and Caeser in Rise of the Planet of the Apes, among others). It would be difficult for Spielberg to find a more fitting team for the job.

For those unfamiliar with Tintin (like I was), the comic series was first published in 1929, and is based on a Belgian journalist who, with his loyal dog Snowy, constantly finds himself involved in fantastical adventures, shrouded by mystery, fantasy, science-fiction, and more. While every issue might differ in terms of genre, what they all have in common is their slapstick humor and clever satire.

Tintin seems to be such a perfect project for Spielberg to take on, it’s almost as if it was created specifically for him. So one might wonder what took him so long to adapt it to the silver screen. Unsurprisingly, Spielberg, a long-time fan of the series, has been trying to get the film made for several years – 27, to be exact. The film was first optioned by Universal Sutdios in 1984, and has been tossed around between studios in development hell ever since, until its resurrection in 2006, when Spielberg and Jackson finally began pre-production on the film.

What is very unfortunate is that the United States never really got on the Tintin bandwagon, so the franchise has always had a much stronger fan base overseas. The resulting box office numbers have only confirmed this. Domestically, Tintin made just over $77.5 million, compared to a $296.5 million everywhere else (combined). That’s a whopping $218 million difference. What was also a big blow to the studio was its lack of acknowledgement at the Academy Awards: Tintin failed to receive a nomination in all categories, save one, for Original Score.

Why this has occurred only boggles my mind, but the poor marketing for the film has resulted in a lot of potential viewers simply not being aware of its existence, and those that were seemed mostly not to care. The idea that the studio failed to bring in numbers with such an A-team behind it only baffles me. Did I mention Edgar Wright (of Shaun of the Dead and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World) re-wrote the script? Seriously, if the line “Spielberg’s new Indiana Jones” was mentioned once or twice, that might have worked like gangbusters.

For reasons like these lacking of numbers, underwhelming reviews, and no prior knowledge of the Tintin comics or television series, I admittedly didn’t have very high expectations for this one. Spielberg isn’t the only one guilty of delivering a complete flop in recent years. However, despite missing out on seeing the film in 3D, and instead watching the film for the first time on Bluray, I was still blown away.

The film centers on the titular journalist, voiced by Jamie Bell, who stumbles upon a curious artifact in his possession, a miniature replica of the legendary Caption Haddock, who died centuries earlier. Only the ship holds a dark secret that others don’t want him to know about. Along the way, he encounters Haddock’s only living heir (Andy Serkis), and Haddock’s rival, Sakharine (Daniel Craig).

Throw in Simon Pegg and Nick Frost into the mix as FBI Agents Thompson and Thomson, and what we have is a product that is exactly what anyone could hope for in a Spielberg and Jackson collaboration: witty, charming, thrilling, and seriously gorgeous to look at. The action scarcely stops even for a second, but when it does it is none the less exciting, because the WETA team has clearly invested so much time into every little detail in every frame, especially in its characters. Every “actor” in the film is so beautifully detailed, down to every wrinkle, whisker and freckle, that I was just as invested in them as actors in a live action movie, if not more.

Some might complain that, other than the groundbreaking animation, there is nothing new here: a young detective finds himself engulfed in a historical conspiracy, and the bad guys don’t like it. This is true – there is nothing revolutionary here in terms of narrative and storytelling. But Spielberg covers this ground so well that everything about the film feels fresh and enthralling, even though the director has reigned in similar territory three decades ago.

Althout the comparison between the two has been stretched out to death, I can’t help but feel that the experience of watching this film is similar to what I imagine the audience of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark felt – just bewildered with excitement and adventure. Every since released of Raiders, the film, and the sequels that followed, found themselves more and more compared to the Tintin comics, often labeling Tintinas “the new Indiana Jones for kids”, further proving my own investigation that the comic book series was intended specifically for Spielberg to adapt.

Although the films are incredibly different for many reasons, Spielberg’s Tintin will likely suffer a similar fate to that of Munich: vastly underappreciated and rarely discussed. Which is a shame, because I would recommend the film to just about anybody. Yes, it is somewhat predictable. Yes, the slapstick humor might fall short for some. Yes, some action set pieces are way over the top, but I ate it all up anyway, and thoroughly enjoyed it. If it is an option for you, I highly recommend checking this out on Bluray, it is truly a piece of art that deserved to be marveled at.

It might be a while until the sequel arrives, but I’ll use my extra time wisely to check out the animated series, now available on Netflix Watch Instantly.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 04:23:00 +0000

Being released in 1920, Robert Wiene’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was an extremely controversial and unsettling piece of work when first unleashed among German audiences. Like the many German Expressionist films that followed it, Caligari focuses on several themes that weren’t openly discussed at the time, and to some degree, still aren’t: murder, loneliness, hopelessness, and rape, just to name a few. The film has several honorable credentials up its sleeve, including for being the first of the horror genre, and is even often cited as a major inspiration for film noir, which debuted only a few years later (while the “first” film noir is debated, some consider M to hold the title, directed by fellow German director Fritz Lang). This scene, where Dr. Caligari’s puppet Cesare attempts to claim another victim, is potentially the most hair-raising of the film’s (rather short) duration. This is particularly due to Giuseppe Becce’s haunting composition, which not only holds up against many compositions to this day - it outmatches them.

The above scene is a perfect example of the disturbing world that Wiene has created. Wiene gives the impression that sunlight doesn’t exist here, as if the characters live in an alienated world constantly blanketed in total darkness. It’s clear that these sets probably weren’t particularly expensive, as they rather cheap and plastic looking, but on this rare occasion Wiene has benefited from it, because it fits the world he has created perfectly. Jagged, crooked walls and buildings are a normal sight here, and it’s as if Francis has appropriately entered a large funhouse at a carnival and is somehow unaware of it. The lighting is such that it is often difficult to glimpse these set pieces in great detail anyway, as if they are only dimly visible by candlelight, and only makes them all the more haunting.

In fact, the settings and locations look entirely inhabitable. How can any sane person possibly choose to live in such a world? Why aren’t any of the characters reacting appropriately to this? These unnerving sets, often barely touched with an awkwardly dim light (if there is any light at all), this is all simply the world that these people live in – they know of no other place or happiness. That alone is a discomforting thought, let alone there is a psychotic murder on the loose. In retrospect to the film’s ending, it is an unsettling, yet excellent representation of the mind of a disturbed individual.

In the duration of the clip's 7 minutes alone, the film reaches three different shades of color, depending on the location of each scene. The scene with Cesare abducting Jane is consumed in a dark, greenish blue hue, emphasizing the darkness. When Jane is rescued and is back of the hands of Francis, we are back to the traditional black and white that we are used to. However, when Francis visits the local prison, where the suspected killer is being held, we enter yet another color, this time a shade of orange. With the wide shot of the prisoner being chained in his cell, it is evident that Wiene favors expressing emotions and themes using extreme close-ups and angles, because it’s as if Wiene built the cell specifically for the shot. When we are first introduced to Cesare we are zoomed right in his face, as if only inches away. This shot is extended into an uncomfortable amount of time, just to make us squirm in our seats. This is all evidence of how Wiene is a master of being in total control of the audience’s emotions, and never letting go. Even the dialogue and title cards are a huge leap from traditional filmmaking, and are only one of several aspects of the film to tighten Wiene’s grip.

The plot itself isn't by any means groundbreaking. A sociopath of a doctor hypnotizes a patient to carry out dirty deeds for him, and Francis, our protagonist, must sabotage his plans Scooby-Doo-style. But Wiene handles it in a very brilliant matter, borrowing heavily from the likes of D.W. Griffith in terms of editing, specifically in his use of cross-cutting. We are taken back and forth between two events taking place at the same time to increase tension and suspense, and making the climax all the more powerful (in this case, the chase scene between Cesare and the townspeople, and Francis looking in on Dr. Caligari’s home). But it is done so flawlessly and effortlessly in a way that it is difficult to be confused by the ongoing action.

Characteristically, Jane isn’t so different from most other early lead female roles (sadly). She is attractive, innocent, and the motivation for the film’s protagonist, but serves no other real contribution to Caligari. That is, until after her meeting with Cesare, who seems to have corrupted her. She becomes mentally isolated and distant from Francis and everyone else, and there doesn’t seem to be any hope for her return. Her innocence has been taken from her. Cesare - who looks strikingly similar to Edward Scissorhands - doesn’t seem human at all. He walks and moves entirely emotionless and robotic, almost like a wind-up toy. It is even difficult to catch him blinking. Of course, his black jumpsuit and unearthly, pale face is unsettling enough alone, but the way Cesare stealthily and effortlessly glides the wall as he approaches Jane’s room, and creepily gazes through her window is enough to give anyone goose bumps. The fact that he doesn’t ever speak on word of dialogue makes him all the more awkwardly strange. It is difficult to decide which villain is more disturbing, Cesare, or Dr. Caligari himself. Slouching with the his cane in his black suit and top hat, it is clear that Dr. Caligari, and possibly the film itself is heavily inspired by the titular character of Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 novel The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (but mostly Mr. Hyde).

While some might feel cheated, or even unmoved by Caligari's “twist” ending, it should be noted that this is the first time this has ever been done in a feature film. It goes without saying that the ending has seeded inspiration for several decades of films to come. Sadly, the "twist" ending gets a bad rep because some writers choose to exploit the tactic, and sloppily turn to this ending for it's shock value, rather than strategically.

If Caligari is indeed the first horror film, it holds the title honorably. Even upon first viewing, it is easy to understand the inspiration and importance of the film as a staple in not just, Expressionism, but in cinematic history altogether. The combination of its eerie sets and lighting, Becce’s haunting score, and performances all-around are indeed scarring, and should be viewed and studied, on several occasions, by both amateur and hardcore fans alike.

The film is embarrassingly easily accessible to anyone, being both of Netflix Watch Instantly, and even in it's entirety on YouTube (although the latter isn't recommended for lack in quality). Just be sure to watch the 1919 version, not the loosely-inspired remakes.

Drive

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 19:36:00 +0000

If there was any doubt that only total badasses can chew on toothpicks, without the desire to clean their teeth, Ryan Gosling puts that silly rumor to rest. Despite what it's title might imply, Drive is not your typical ricer-approved action movie that we all know and love nowadays. The film is very patient and quietly paced, and proves how important and powerful the use of a camera can be if in the right hands. There are (almost) no climatic chase sequences here. Nicolas Winding Refn, director, instead relies on very steady and slow, yet controlled tension to keep us on the edge of our seats at all times. The opening scene is my testimony to this, and perfectly sets the tone for what's to come.

Driver (Gosling) is a man of few words. We know nothing about his past, his first name, or why he rocks that Greaser jacket. All we know is he is indeed talented behind the wheel. But whenever he finds time to spare some words, they are quite fierce and intimidating. It's clear there is a lot going on in his mind at all times, but rarely does he choose to let anyone in on it. Luckily for us, what he lacks for in dialogue is made up in cruelty and mercilessness. When we are graced with some action, it is handled brutally, yet beautifully. Driver is constantly reminding others that he can handle himself at more places than behind the wheel, and finds himself tearing through everyone that the mob, whom he has become entangled with, throws at him.

Driver isn't afraid to get his hands bloody, and he proves this more than once. But he does so in a natural, non-exploitative way. He only does what he needs to survive, and to protect Irene (Carey Mulligan), his new love interest. Save the guy's head he curb-stomped. That dude was a jerk. Totally had it coming.

Refn manages to make me feel guiltlessly nostalgic for the 80s while not actually being set in the 80s, and I was born very late in the decade. The films entire opening credit sequence is a throwback to Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, and it's apparent the film's soundtrack has taken a line or two of the yeyo off a stripper's back as well. Just like how Driver's patience is made up for in his actions, Refn's patience is made up for in Newton Thomas Sigel's beautiful work behind the camera as cinematographer. Every shot is literally a work of art, both in placement and lighting. Sometime's the film will poetically dive into slow-motion, give you the chance to engulf yourself in the world he has created. There is at least one moment when Sigel will cheat the system and unnaturally darken areas that shouldn't be dark, and put a spotlight on the central character, making me feel like I'm seeing a play on broadway rather than a film.

There is a terrific all around cast to be found here, from Bryan Cranston as Gosling's father-figure, a menacing Albert Brooks as Bernie Rose, head of the local mob, and Rob Perlman as Nino (known to most as Hellboy), partner to Rose and a rising figure in said mob. It is great watching these two interact, as they share some of the best dialogue in the film: "'What are you doing eating chink food in my shop?' 'What's a Jew doing running an Italian restaurant?'"

The greatest thing I can say about the film is to just go out and see it. It is an incredibly refreshing alternative to anything else out there right now. While it is unfair to compare the film to others of the street racing genre since it doesn't fit said category at all, it goes without saying that Drive makes the Fast and the Furious franchise look like the short bus of the highway.

Super

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 17:18:00 +0000

James Gunn has quite the credentials. His first screenplay for a feature film is the critically panned Specials, starring Rob Lowe. He followed this with the live-action take of Scooby-Doo. Two years later, he must have realized what a huge mistake that crap was, because he went on to try something (slightly) more respectful and dignifying: Zach Snyder's remake of Dawn of the Dead. Looks like Gunn's career is taking a nice turn, after all! Oh...wait. Scratch that. The same year he helped scribe Scooby-Doo: Monster's Unleashed.

Well, someone finally must have thrown a heavy object at his head and snapped him out of it, because in 2006 he wrote and directed his first feature film, Slither. I have not had the opportunity to see this one, but from what i understand it has a loyal underground following, and holds a steady 85% on Rotten Tomatoes. Judging from the trailer, it seems to have an Evil Dead vibe to it, so it is probably worth checking out. Four years later, Gunn brings his second directorial effort to the big screen.

Rainn Wilson, known to most as Mr. Dwight Schrute, of Schrute Farms, has clearly had tremendous success as an actor on television, the same can't really be said for the silver screen. It's unusual for Wilson to have more than a couple of minutes of screen time, mostly having blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameos. That is, up until 2008's The Rocker, which was a dud. His second attempt at a starring role isn't so unfortunate however.

Super stars Wilson as Frank D'Arbo, your everyday Joe Schmo, and potentially a loser. He lives with his wife Sarah (Liv Tyler), but thanks to her resurfaced addiction with drugs and Kevin Bacon, their marriage is crumbling, and falls apart entirely before the opening credits (which are oddly spectacular) even begin. However, like most losers, he is still in love with her, and is under the impression he is supposed to win her back. We learn that the only reason Frank is with her in the first place is because God told him to. Literally said "Marry her". Fair enough.

Now that Sarah has left him, he begins to question what devine plan God has for him. So God speaks to him again, although not so directly this time. Instead, he sends the Holy Avenger, hero of a fictional and religiously sappy television show and comic book. The bits of his show we get to watch are quite hysterically corny, and to no one's surprise, Nathan Fillion fills the role quite satisfactorily as the Catholic "super hero". It is through the Holy Avenger, whom Frank meets in a vision, where he is told he is supposed to fight crime as the Crimson Bolt. From here, Frank suffers from mostly trial and error, as he is in no physically fit condition, and obviously lacks in bad guy-fighting experience. More than a couple of times, he gets his ass kicked. This is when he approaches Libby (Ellen Page) of a local comic book store, to seek for advice, as she is a nerd. She delightfully gives him advice about heroes without super powers. This proved to be pointless however, for his research for a new weapon was hilariously quick (he went with a steel wrench).

From here, Super seems to take an odd turn from a comedy to exploitation. Frank doesn't just hurt people with that wrench, he destroys their limbs. I would say that the film was heavily influenced by recently reviewed Hobo With a Shotgun, but given the fact that it was only released a year after Super doesn't make it very likely. However, the similarities become very difficult to ignore. Frank doesn't attack anyone who doesn't have it coming to them, although that might be debatable. Hotheaded, he attacks a total douche who butts in the long line of a movie theater. But come on, that's what we all secretly wish would happen. The difference, however, that divides the Frank from the Hobo is that he doesn't kill anybody. He just destroys and disassembles their limbs so horribly that they wish they were killed. But when you think about it, isn't that worse than death?

This isn't the only time that Super takes an unexpected turn genre-wise. The final act doesn't even attempt to be humorous - it is very dark, gritty, and violent, and it really almost feels like a different film altogether. On the plus side, the final act is totally bad ass. Frank achieves almost what any man with a little hair on his chest has daydreamed of accomplishing: destroying a bunch of bad guys who have it coming to them. But the fact that Frank is an everyday, normal man like it's viewers makes it all the more hair-raising.

While the script is certainly unpolished, it brings out some memorable performances. Kevin Bacon is one of my up-most guilty pleasures, particularly as a villain. Ever since his considerable darker role as a child molester in Sleepers, he has never failed at being ever so hateable, but at the same time his presence on screen is always missed when he's absent. His role as the Nazi super-villain in Xmen: First Class certainly proved this ability, and he certainly applies it here to my satisfaction.

Ellen Page, on the other hand, gives a performance that is unlikely her past material. At first, we see Page as she always is, the "adorkable" and quirky love interest. But as the story evolves, we learn that she is quite...psychotic, and it is very entertaining to watch Page dwell in this unexplored territory for the first time. But like most of the script, while it is entertaining, it doesn't feel quite right or natural, because she is arguably more intense and mentally unbalanced than Bacon's character, who is the villain.

Rainn Wilson himself doesn't tread too far from his familiar oddball, beet farmer territory. I couldn't help but but constantly being reminded of Recyclops, Dwight Schrutes alter-ego. Fortunately, it works, as Wilson makes the best out of what he was given, and he delivers just fine.

Unfortunately, Super suffers from the fate of an untimely release. On the surface, Super seems like a direct ripoff of Kick-Ass which was released nearly one year prior. IFC were evidently aware of this, since they seemed to pitch the same idea in the (very, very limited) marketing that existed: what if someone finally had enough of our violent society, and became a super hero? In context, this isn't what the film is about. It bounces along the themes of redemption, sacrifice, and just being alone in the world, but doesn't seem to address exactly what it is trying to say about any of it. I'm not sure if I've ever seen a film that was both so strangely allegorical and abstract at the same time.

This is what Super ultimately suffers from - it's inability to decide exactly what it is trying to be or say. It is highly possible that it isn't trying to be or say anything at all. And while that is an admirable approach, it is unsettling as a viewer, because if the film has no clue what to say for itself, why should we be given the burden instead?

The film isn't without heart though, and it is the little moments and touches that keep the film from being a complete mess. The most powerful line in the film arises in the height of it's climax, but it is not because it is deep or complex. It is in fact very straight forward and simple. But Frank is forced to make it so, because Jacques is an evil scumbag, and simply can't comprehend why Frank has gone through such lengths to attack someone for doing such a small thing as cutting in line. Wilson delivers his response in such a heartfelt, frustrated way that as a viewer, I couldn't help but salute him:

"You don't butt in line! You don't sell drugs! You don't molest little children! You don't profit off the misery of others! The rules were set a long time ago! They don't change!"

Amen.

Trailer:

The Beaver

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 04:02:00 +0000

Whatever your opinions are about fellow actor and director Mel Gibson, it's difficult to deny that inside that very disturbed and perhaps disfinctional brain of his, there is a portion of it that is actually quite talented. Maybe even, dare I say, quite brilliant. His directing abilities demonstrate this, because Apocalypto is a serious (and gorgeous) feat to behold. His acting performances are almost always rather powerful, although they certainly have their ups and downs. I will, until my last dying breath, defend the awesomeness of Payback. It is a constantly overlooked modern take on the film noir genre, and Gibson is top-notch. Call it a guilty pleasure, Rotten Tomatoes be damned. Despite this, his "retribution" has still yet to make an appearance. At least, in the eyes of the public. However, there is little doubt that his performance in Jodie Foster's The Beaver sought to change that.
Like most people, it was much to my surprise that veteran actress Jodie Foster directed the film. I was even more surprised to learn that this was't her first time sitting in the captain's seat, helming relatively unknown films Little Man Tate in 1991 and Home for the Holidays in 1995. Judging from the trailer of the former, her abilities behind the camera seem to be...subpar. Fortunately, it appears that her directorial skills have tightened nicely, as The Beaver is definitely a film that is worth discussing, Gibson's personal life aside.

Walter Black is an executive of a declining children's toy company, and is depressed. Really, really depressed, because he totally doesn't talk to his wife and kids anymore, and spends many lonesome hours moping around on his living room couch. Exactly why he is depressed isn't evident, but that's not the question his family, or the audience for that matter, is asking. It is clear from the get-go that we are about to embrace a very somber film, since Walter is kicked out of his home, and his immediate course of action is to attempt to kill himself before we even hear his voice for the first time. He fails, but not without injury, and appears to wake up with a split personality, talking to himself with a hand puppet in the form of a beaver that he saved from the trash earlier. Also, the Beaver has an Australian accent. While a tad irritating at times, it is probably necessary to be able to distiguish exactly "who" it is that is speaking, and it is actually quite effective (although born in New York, Gibson's parents are both from Australia, and he moved there for most of his young adulthood). The Beaver promises to fix Walter's life and get him out of his slump of a depression. To the surprise of his wife Meredith (Foster), it is working. He is being himself again, and relatively normal. The downside, of course, is that Walter isn't normal, but actually somewhat psychotic. Under the impression that he is being treated in a professional program, Walter's wife accepts him in her home again, and their youngest son Riley is as happy as ever. Not only does his Dad spend more time with him, but that beaver is so funny! To top it off, Walter designs a record-breaking (and beaver-themed) toy that breaks records in sales. So not only did the Beaver save the family, but he saved the company too! Hooray for the Beaver!

Only, there is another son of the household. Porter (Anton Yelchin), is a high school senior, perfectly bright, and is accepted into a fancy prestiged college. But, like most of us simple-minded folk, he just has his demons. He uses his gift for words to write fellow students' essays, if the price is right. He has a deep hole in his bedroom wall that is mysteriously the same shape as his head. Also, he despises his father. In what I have cleverly diagnosed as a symptom of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, he impeccabely organizes rows of post-it notes on his bedroom wall, each note listing a quality he shares with his father, with a mission to one day remove all said notes and differentiate from his father completely. Not very subtle. So to learn that not only is his father permanantly back in his home, but he brought the damn beaver with him as well. Not surprisingly, Porter doesn't welcome his father with open arms.

All the while this going on, we have yet to see any real insight of Walter's mind as a human being, other than the fact that he is insane. Walter doesn't confront any of his issues, and chooses to use the Beaver as a sort of mask to hide behind. Even his wife gives up and chooses to ignore it. It is finally when Walter and his wife prepare to leave for a night out together when Meredith finally orders him to cut the shit with the puppet and have a normal dinner. As predicted, things don't go very well, and Walter has a stunningly realistic public freakout at the restaurant the moment Meredith confronts him about ditching the Beaver for good.

Being the executive of a major toy company, Walter is a sort of celebrity, and the Beaver boosts his status through the charts, appearing on several shows, advertisements, etc. What is noticeable is that the media is witnessing the mental breakdown of this man, who clearly needs help, and they only continue to throw money at him an fuel the fire. Sound familiar? It is an interesting stab at the heartlessness of the media, and how Matt Lauer clearly has no soul.

Meanwhile, Porter continues to ignore his father, and instead invests his time in Norah (Jennifer Lawrence), a new "client" who he has become accustomed to. That is, until he messes it up by attempting to force her to deal with her dark history. To top it off, Walter - in a lame Dad fashion - totally embarrasses him in front of her with the Beaver. Porter angrily responds by attempting to forcefully remove the puppet from his father's hand, and Walter actually harms his son to defend his furry friend. This was a wake up call of sorts, and sparks a series of events that begin to bring Walter out of the darkness and remember what and who his priorities are.

When things really hit rock bottom with the family, Walter and his son are finally brought together and begin to understand one another. While The Beaver doesn't have a terribly depressing resolution, it isn't exactly a cheerful one either. Walter is still sick, and his son probably still hates him, as all punk-ass, mood-swinging teenagers will. However, the film still feels complete, because in the end, everyone is finally open about their problems. Most importantly, Walter and his son finally connect together as human beings struggling to find their place in the world, and accept each other for who they are, even though that they are most likely aware that this unfamiliar "connection" could go away as soon as it arrived, and that the path to eternal happiness is a long one. The trick is to have someone by your side, because no one can do it alone. The Beaver is about confronting your fears, issues, or whatever demons you got going on, because while Walter is constantly belittled for failing to do so, the truth of it is just about nobody around him has their shit together either. Jen refuses to accept, let alone acknowledge her dark past, and even Meredith continues to close her eyes to the fact that Walter is mentally sick, and nothing will go back to normal as soon as he feels like it. Honestly, the only sane one in the house is the six year-old.

It should be noted that Anton Yelchin gives a seriously under-appreciated performance here, but seems to constantly be overshadowed by the whole Mel-Gibson-is-trying-to-save-himself thing. While Yelchin might be noticeably too old for the role (18 years-old is pushing it), he is certainly convincing as a guy who is simply confused about who he is. Let's face it, at 18, none of us do. Yelchin reaches out for us, and my fractured walls will testify to this. It is a nice departure from the usual "cute kid" role, and certainly a nice welcome.

As for Mel Gibson, I would only suggest that this film was released at the worst possible time in his career, because of the certain fate that it will only be analyzed by most as his attempt at rehabilitation. Which, admittedly, it is. But the film is much deeper than that, and should be taken more seriously, despite how off-putting and silly it is at times. Either way you look at it, it's Mel Gibson talking with a hand puppet. Goofy stuff. So while The Beaver certainly isn't a Terrance Mallick film by any means, critics shouldn't be so quick to dismiss it, because the general audience certainly will, since many of them refuse to view a movie associated with Gibson purely because of his unfortunate (and kind of hilarious) history, and it is a shame. The marketing for the film was nearly nonexistent, and the only reason it lived at all is because of that "Jew hater". Judging from the film's $21 million budget, and it's less-then $1 million earnings, this accusation isn't too far off. Of course, I in no way endorse or excuse the things he has said and done, I just refuse to be as simple minded as to refuse a work of art because of association alone. My hope is that Gibson will simply clean up his act and continue making entertaining films like he does best, whether the whiny public wants them or not.

Trailer:

Hobo With a Shotgun

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 22:20:00 +0000

Watching the trailer, one might wonder how a trailer so gory, so violent, so grotesque and so tasteless could possibly be stretched out into a 90 minute feature. Not only does it deliver to your disgusting needs, it shoots you in the balls with it. Still interested, sicko? Well, once upon a time in Hollywood, directors Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino wanted to make a film that would be a throwback to the "classic" grindhouse features, which mainly consisted of exploitation B-movies. An exploitation film is essentially a genre that one-ups another to the point where if the film could vomit, it would vomit that genre into your eyes forever. So, the two collaborated to release Grindhouse, a double-feature including Planet Terror and Death Proof, directed by Rodriguez and Tarantino, respectively. If you saw the film in theaters, you got a special treat. Before the opening of each film, a series of fake trailers were shown, each offering something more ridiculous and insane than the features succeeding them. What's special about these trailers is that they were significant efforts by some famous names. Such trailers include Werewolf Women of the SS, directed by Rob Zombie and starring Nicolas Cage; Thanksgiving, directed by Eli Roth; Don't, directed by Edgar Wright, and Machete, directed by Rodriguez himself. As you might know, Machete was later made into a feature film, because of the praise received from the trailer. As you might not know, the script for Machete was actually already written several years prior to the release of the fake trailer, which rekindled his interest in finally bringing it to the big screen. The last fake trailer to precede Grindhouse wasn't created by a famous director, but rather a winner of Rodriguez's "South by Southwest" contest. The winner's trailer would be featured in Grindhouse. As you might have guessed, the winner was Hobo With a Shotgun. Obviously, someone must have appreciated the trailer, as it too was later shot as a feature-length.

Directed by newcomer Jason Eisener, the film stays grudgingly close to it's source material (the fake trailer), except for the Hobo himself, who is now played by Rutger Hauer (you might recognize him as cannibal Cardinal Roark from Sin City). Hauer plays his role as convincingly possible someone can play a homeless man who goes on a vermin-killing spree. If you read the title of the film, you already know it's plot. A pissed off bum runs around with a magic shotgun with unlimited ammo and decapitates everyone in his path with it. The only question, which no one is asking, is why. The Hobo finds himself in a freak show of a town, that is comparable to towns that can only be found in post-apocalyptic films like Mad Max. Only, this is present day, and there are hobos. It's difficult to find a character in the film who isn't a complete scumbag besides the Hobo. So he gets slapped around one too many times, and takes a page from Travis Bickle's book and goes on a bloody, giblet-splattering spree with his ol' reliable shotgun. He meets a whore with a heart of gold, and, huzzah, character investment!

It is highly probable that Hobo With a Shotgun is the goriest film I have ever seen. Admittedly, I am an amateur when it comes to the exploitation genre, but it is extremely difficult to imagine just how a movie could possibly be bloodier than this one, as there is blood present in 99% of the shots. Even when there is nothing particularly violent going on (which is never), the character on screen will still happen to be drenched in someone's blood, as if they have just given up on bothering to grab a sheet of Bounty anymore, because, fuck it, they're just going to get splattered on again soon anyway. If there is one contribution Hobo With a Shotgun adds to cinematic history, it's that it contains some of the most creative, thought-inducing (and immoral) deaths I have ever witnessed. There is stuff here that even Ash Williams will find nauseating. I could tell you about them, but the fun of the movie is experiencing the wretched glorification of violence unknowing what awaits. Also, there is joy in knowing that absolutely everyone who is demolished by the Hobo absolutely has it coming to them (judging by the kill count of the film, the number is depressingly high). If you are the type who enjoys watching a movie that lacks in plot but makes up for it with blood and people's innards exploding in the air like fireworks, then Hobo With a Shotgun will more than satisfy your creepy, repulsive needs.

REAL trailer:

The Dollars Trilogy, Part III: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 17:33:00 +0000

Wow. So, yeah. With The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, Sergio Leone proves not only that is he not a crock (as if anyone doubted it), but he is a master of the craft. This is entirely predictable with just the opening credits, which has jumped to my top ten opening sequences ever. Although it is only an animated sequence, Leone's use of sound and Ennio Marricone's incredible composition is absolutely brilliant. This is easily the best use of my newly acquired surround sound system, and reminded me of why I installed it in the first place. In my review for the previous film, I stated that For a Few Dollars more essentially one-ups A Fistful of Dollars in every way. It is more than fair to say the same for The Good, the Bad, and Ugly. Leone takes the trilogy to places that I never expected it go.

We start off with who one might mistake to be Colonel Douglas Mortimer, as he is played buy the same actor (Lee Van Cleef). That is, until he shoots an unarmed man in the face. Heartbroken, I couldn't believe the Colonel would do such a thing! What madness happened between the 2nd and 3rd films? Was the Colonel driven into darkness like Colonel Kurtz? Actually, although Van Cleef has indeed returned, the Colonel hasn't. Instead, he is playing a self-centered, evil bastard by the name of Angel Eyes (or, the Bad). Van Cleef feels so at home playing this character that one can't help love to hate him. Like method actor Daniel Day-Lewis, it is difficult to imagine him playing anyone other than a despicable, tasteless villain, even after just viewing the previous film of the trilogy, which he was quite brilliant in. He just seems at the top of his peak here. Tuco (Eli Wallach), the Ugly, is a reckless thief and killer who basically does whatever he wants. It is clear from the start that he cares for no one but himself, and will do whatever it takes to profit from any given situation, no matter what the cost. What makes him interesting as a character, other than being a killer with nothing to lose, is that he is really the 'comedic relief' of the film. He has most of the best lines, as he is always mocking and taunting Angel Eyes and the Stranger, much to their dismay. What makes Tuco interesting to Angel Eyes and Blondie is that he has $2000 on his head. Tuco makes it clear that he shouldn't be taken lightly, because he brings down and humiliates the Stranger more than we have ever seen, torturing him for hours on end. As a character, the Stranger, now known as Bright Eyes (or the Good), is Clint Eastwood-y and badass as always, but who's complaining?

So there are two opposing hitmen, and a thief with a lot of money on his head. It is easy to make out what the plot could possibly be. However, at the midpoint of the film, Tuco and Blondie hear word of a buried, endless treasure. Suddenly, not unlike the previous film, we take an unexpected turn not just in the plot, but in the genre as a whole. It is now a rat race for said treasure, and it is through the travels that the three of them endure where the film goes to places it's never been before. Mind you, this film is set during the Civil War. First, the three are intertwined in a Union prison camp, which is unsettling enough for the viewer, because it feels as if Eastwood walked onto the set of another movie. Because two genres, the western and historical, are colliding here. It isn't until Tuco and Blondie find themselves in the middle of an intense battlefield, with a proportion in size comparable to the likes of Glory, where the film clearly reaches for the sky and potentially becomes an epic.

With the Dollars Trilogy, Sergio Leone set a new standard not just for westerns, but for filmmaking in general. It is a rare occurrence when every film in a trilogy surpasses the one before it in almost every plausible way, and this trilogy has done it. There are just so many things to be loved and admired here that it would be insulting to call oneself a watcher of movies and to not have seen any one of these films. The trilogy has recently been remastered and rereleased just last year, so there really is no excuse not to see them. So if you haven't, or just haven't seen them recently enough to remember what all the huzzah is about, do yourself a favor and clear about nine hours of your busy, busy schedule to shun yourself from society and check them out. And turn the volume up. Loud.

Trailer:

The Dollars Trilogy, Part II: For a Few Dollars More

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 01:08:00 +0000

For a Few Dollars More, the second entry in the "Dollars Trilogy", essentially one-ups it's predecessor, A Fistful of Dollars in almost every way. It is clear that the sequel was granted a much bigger budget than Fistful. The set pieces are noticeably bigger, and we get a lot more triumphant explosions. Director Sergio Leone wittingly held onto Ennio Marricone, who managed to top himself and create another incredible score. There is not much else to say about the film, other than it has everything you could expect from watching the previous film, but overall more entertaining and satisfying. The script is much tighter and its characters show much more emotion and depth. It is arguable that the audience will have more investment in El Indio, the antagonist of the film than any other character. He is not as shallow of an evil character as Ramón, from the last film. Not to say that El Indio isn't a villainous bastard, because he is. He deserves everything he has coming to him, and more. The difference is I didn't feel like El Indio was mindlessly thrown into the script. When they get deeper into the film, he audience eventually gets a sense that he has actual emotions and thoughts, as opposed to Ramón, who killed people because, well, it's just so much fun being bad! He is also not an idiot, and is simply a worthy contender of the stranger, now known as "Manco". Manco is as intimidating and mysterious as we were first introduced to him in Fistful, and no one is complaining. To top it off, a third player is also thrown into the mix: hit man Colonel Douglas Mortimer, perplexingly played by Lee Van Cleef. Thanks to his deceiving eyes and menacing smile, it is never exactly clear for some time where his true allegiance lies: with "Manco", El Indio, or himself. I found myself constantly guessing at what he was going to do next.

When we are first getting comfortable with the assumption that this will be fairly similar to the previous film plot-wise, Sergio Leone turns the tables on us an we are suddenly sucked into a heist film. What makes the script particularly strong is the planning of the robbery. As I said, El Indio isn't brainless, and he proves it with the numerous steps and precautions he takes in being successful. If he is to pull it off, it will arguably be earned. Of course, Manco decides he will exploit the situation as much as possible. Only problem is, the Colonel wants in on it too. Being the lone wolf that Manco is, he is reluctant. It is only when he learns how deadly the Colonel is with a gun that he decides it is in his best interest to partner up, although no one is sure yet where the Colonel's true intentions lie. It is not only interesting to see Manco, the most deadly and mischievous gunner to yet be seen on film, to be by someone else, but to be outmatched by someone else who is possibly not antagonistic at all. In fact, it's almost upsetting. At the same time, it is realistic to understand that Manco can't possibly be the only badass in the West. It is only probable that he will cross paths with one eventually. It is also probable that the Colonel has exciting stories to tell himself, and how a spin-off trilogy of the character would hold up against the Dollars trilogy, if he ever decided to make one. But, as they say, we will have to accept the mystery.

Trailer:

The Dollars Trilogy, Part I: A Fistful of Dollars

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 05:43:00 +0000

The Dollar Trilogy films are what are known as "spaghetti westerns". These are a sub-genre of films, as you might have intelligently guessed, that were directed and produced by Italians. They are essentially the Italian filmmakers' take on the western genre. Popularity of these films arose in the early '60s and had a good run before they more or less died out in the late '70s.

Shameful as it might sound (it is), only until a few days ago, I had yet to see any of Sergio Leone's famed "Man With No Name" Trilogy. As a double whammy, this is also my first witness to Clint Eastwood in the western genre. In order to make up for this unnecessary guilt that I have imploded upon myself, I thought it would be interesting to write about them as I watch not only the Dollar triliogy for the first time, but my first Spaghetti westerns as well. The difference between spaghetti westerns and the "American" westerns, arguably made famous by John Ford and John Wayne, that most of us have become accustomed to aren't night and day, but they aren't difficult to point out either. It's the small and subtle differences that make (almost) make spaghetti westerns a standalone genre.

A Fistful of Dollars, generally known as the first "true" spaghetti western, is a near shot-for-shot remake of the Japanese 1961 film Yojimbo. Directed by newcomer Sergio Leone, it stars none other than Clint Eastwood as a mysterious, nameless man arriving at a desolated town torn apart by violence and crime. At the time, Eastwood was new to the silver screen as well. Prior to making his real breakthrough in the 1964 film, he was mostly known for the widely popular western television series Rawhide. When "Nameless" arrives in San Miguel, he learns that the town is overrun by two feuding families, the Baxter's and the Rojo's. Ramon, a madman fueled with greed, is the head of the Rojo' family, which is fueled with thieves and murders. The head of the Baxter family is the town Sheriff, and is mostly filled with dick heads, although they are not particularly evil. Only having one accomplice whom he trusts in town, he decides the best way to solve the problem is to spark an all-out war between the families, and profit from it in the process. He does this by pretending to be loyal for one family and not the other, doing jobs at an expensive price. In reality, he's not loyal to either of them. Only himself. We watch him as he continuously sets up both families until they finally wage war, and they are both blind to his true intentions.

Other than a bunch of name-calling and bodies falling, there is not much else going on here plot-wise. There is one subplot, however. Ramon has kept a woman has a girlfriend, whom he is deeply in love with". This is romantic and all, only that he he stole her from her husband and son, threatening to kill them if she sees them again. For one reason or the other, Nameless helps Marisol and her family escape from Ramon's grasp. When Marisol asks why he has done this, he responds with "Because I knew someone like you once." This is the first and only line in the film that proves that Nameless might actually have a soul under that stone cold face of his.

His good deed doesn't go without consequence however, as he is finally caught and tortured for it. Of course, he escapes, and the Rojo's being the hotheads that they are, believe that his accomplice, Silvanito, is hiding him. As Nameless watches in hiding (and they beat him until he confesses where he is (he doesn't). They eventually give up and accuse the Baxter's of hiding him instead. What we get in result is not only a bloodbath, but a massacre. Seriously, the gang lights a hideout on fire and guns down anyone who tries to escape, including women and children. What's very troubling about this scene, and one of my major (if not the only) gripe, is that after watching his buddy nearly get beaten to death in hiding, he watches dozens of innocent people die, and does nothing. In hiding. It can be argued that he is too injured at the time to do anything effective, but it is enough to begin to question his morality in all of this. That's not say to he doesn't give the Rojo's what's coming to them. After arguably being single-handedly responsible by decreasing San Miguel's population by 99%, Nameless does a "Nameless" kinda of thing and simply carries on and leaves behind an Auschwitz-style pile of corpses to Silvanito and Piripero the coffin maker. Probably to repopulate.

So what makes the Man with No Name so different from the rest of the westerns we are used to? It is mostly the hands of the director, Sergio Leone. The film's set pieces are almost nonexistent. Other then the crudely made inns and shacks, there is not much to look at considering the film basically takes place in a desert. Much of the film is composed of extremely wide angle shots, emphasizing the loneliness and isolation of both the ghost town and the titular character. The Stranger himself is a refreshment of the iconic cowboy heroes we are used to. John Wayne, for example, usually depicts a noble, heroic (and sometimes troubled) protagonist. Clint Eastwood was tired of his black and white role in Rawhide, and changed it up here with much success. He is too mysterious to know what he will do next, and that is one of the major pillars that keep the film standing.

Personally, my favorite difference so far is the very excellent score composed by Ennio Marricone (credited as Dan Savvio). Being a big Quentin Tarantino fan, it is painfully easy to see where he gets his notes from, particularly in the Kill Bill films (which is considered by many to be his take on the spaghetti western genre). Marricone's score is so unique and compelling that it is quite unlike anything else. The brilliant blend of Marricone's score and Leone's suspenseful, heart-pounding shots had me at awe. The purpose of the score is to get you more amped and excited than a 12 year-old at a Linkin Park concert (a feat to be admired), and it works terrifically.

Despite how rich and captivating this movie is, there is definitely room for improvement. I am told each movie in the trilogy is better than the last, so I am more than excited to see the two sequels. To be continued with part two!

Trailer:

Super 8

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 21:46:00 +0000

*As a note to all three of you who will read this, I will TRY to keep this as spoiler-free as possible, but read at your own risk, since to is hard to review this film without keeping out some major details and plot-points.

**By "TRY", I mean I won't.

JJ Abrams has (arguably) crafted a few of the best television series of the current generation, and love him or hate him, he's reaching for the skies on the big screen. Super 8 isn't his directorial debut (that title belongs to Mission Impossible: 3), but it is clearly his most ambitious to date. Both MI: 3 and his re-invisioned Star Trek were both his attempts at already existing and widely popular properties. Super 8 is Abrams' first attempt at creating something entirely original, born from his own mind. However, it is impossible to watch Super 8 and not give credit to Steven Spielberg. Because besides actually producing the film, it is very heavily influenced by Spielberg's previous work, particularly his earlier extraterrestrial films. It's no secret that Abrams dreams of being the next Spielberg, and Super 8 is living proof of that.

If one didn't know a thing about Super 8 prior to seeing it, it would be easy to suggest upon viewing its first act that it is indeed more of a "coming of age" film, rather than an "alien invasion" science-fiction film. The film opens at a wake, and we watch the protagonist, Joe Lamb (newcomer Joel Courtney), grieve for his mother, who died in an accident at a local factory. This scene is essential because it sets the tone and attitudes of most of the characters, whom we will be spending most the film with: Joe's friends awkwardly joke around and try to make the best of the situation, Joe's father (and local cop), Jack, is angry and not handling his loss very well, as he actually arrests someone at the wake for no known reason, other than being pissed off. Joe quietly keeps to himself and doesn't say a word for the entire scene.

Forward a few months later to summertime, and we learn that Joe and his buddies are heavily into filmmaking, and are in the middle of making a zombie movie. After much set-up and character bonding, we are introduced to the love interest, Alice (Elle Fanning, probably the only kid actor who isn't a newcomer). She is also the daughter of the man who Joe's father blames for his mother's death. It is while they are making their movie when things begin to take a "Spielbergy" turn, and a truck collides head-on with a freight train, resulting in a spectacular explosion. Not only does the gang find that their Biology teacher teacher was driving the truck, but he threatens them with a gun and tells them not to tell anyone what they saw. They scream and run (this really reminded me of The Goonies).

The rest of the film, at least until the end of the third act, is mostly the kids trying to live their lives while the Government tries to conceal the secret of strange disappearances and sightings around the local town since the train wreck. Joe and Alice fall in love, much to the disapproval of their feuding fathers, and they continue to shoot their movie, taking advantage of the unique sets they are able to acquire, thanks to the creature making a mess around town ("Production value!") They will occasionally investigate and ask questions about why tanks are rolling around in their backyards, but for the most part, they continue to try to move on with other things. We are occasionally interrupted by watching innocent people get taken away by the monster, with a formulaic "watching-dumb-people-who-have-nothing-to-do-with-the-story-get-stalked-and-taken-away-by-the-evil-monster" scene that is seen in most horror films. You know, that one (but PG-13). This is OK the first time, to get a taste of what the monster is capable of, but it does so on multiple and unnecessary occasions that don't contribute much to the story other than cheap scares.

It isn't until the creature abducts Alice when Joe decides to get involved and save her, and things begin to get a little over-the-top. His dad is captured by the Military, but he knocks out an unsuspecting soldier, uses a uniform for disguise, and steals a Jeep. The kids run through their neighborhood that has been torn apart by tanks and explosions as a battlefield (even though the town has been evacuated), narrowly escaping an attack from the monster. Joe figures out where the monster's "lair" is, so out of love, he invades it to save Alice. Joe finds Alice alive, and they nearly escape before the monster finds them. Before killing Joe however, Joe talks to the monster, giving him words of wisdom. It concedes and puts him down, letting him and Alice live, and builds his ship several minutes later and and leaving the planet forever.

While the film, especially the ending, seems very "by the books" at times, it is difficult to disagree that Abrams has a special touch, very much like his mentor, and when he uses it, it is very effective and mesmerizing. While at first I was let down by the "everything turned out better than expected" ending, I realized that Super 8 isn't a combination of E.T. and Cloverfield, as the trailers seemed to suggest, nor is it really an extraterrestrial movie at all. What makes Super 8 unique, is that it actually is a coming-of-age story, as well as a love story. A horrific monster just happens to show up in the middle of it, and is only another obstacle for the protagonist to overcome to achieve his goal of attaining a respectable relationship with his father, and to hold Alice's hand. At the same time, it is just a blast to watch. This is what makes Spielberg's films so special. He mastered the art of overlaying different genres together in a way that makes it indescribably it's own. Abrams has yet to master it, but he is damn close.

Trailer:

Fish Tank

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 22:44:00 +0000

What should have been a throwaway story about a bratty 15 year-old with a crappy life ended up being quite the opposite. Because, let's face it, 15 year-old girls suck, and they don't deserve the privilege of breathing in oxygen. But with Fish Tank, Andrea Arnold gives us a glimpse into the life of one of said teenagers, perhaps in an attempt to let us understand why 15 year-old girls are the way that they are (i.e., spawns of the devil). For the most part, she succeeds.

As hinted, Fish Tank revolves around the life of Mia (newcomer Katie Jarvis), a young girl living in a lower class, project-like area of England. Not surprisingly, every day is a struggle, as her Mother (Kierston Wareing) is raising Mia and her younger sister alone, and being a great parent doesn't seem to be a top priority for her. Mia is socially incapable, and is constantly starting fights, using both her mouth and fists. Her only hobby or interest other than calling her mother awful names seems to be dancing. We learn that her Mother, Joanne, is soon sending Mia away to a school for evil seeds such as herself, and obviously without her consent. But this is only another thing to throw on to the pile, and it's only when Joanne's new boyfriend Connor, played by Michael Fassbender, enters the scene when things start shaking up. It's from this point on where the film takes off and tensions arise, specifically between Mia and Connor, and largely focuses on their confusing relationship, but it's really only an excuse to see how Mia reacts and deals with the unusual situation.

Throughout the film, Mia continues to do things that constantly baffle and bewilder me besides the fighting, screaming and random mood swings, so the line between feeling compassion for Mia or not is very hazy at times. It's not until the final act when I truly started feeling invested in Mia as a character, likely because it is the first time that she expresses any real emotion other than anger. Early on in the film, Mia discovers an ill-looking horse that is chained up by some mobile homes, right on the side of the highway. For a reason that is largely unexplained, she attempts to free the creature on more than one occasion. Towards the ending of the film, she learns that the horse dies, and she breaks down and cries. After everything we witness Mia go through, after all the violence, heartbreak and lawbreaking, Mia didn't shed a single tear. But this is what drives her over the edge - an animal she has virtually no connection or association with. Or at least, one she shouldn't have a connection with. Not surprisingly, Mia is offered the chance to run away, and she accepts for a chance to get away from a life that she despises. It is also not until the final minutes of the film that we see Mia and her mother share any sort of bond or enjoyment together, but our hearts sink again when we realize that this moment is very brief, because Joanne is still, and will always be a crappy mother, and Mia is leaving home, and probably for a long time.

It is quite a ride to witness the insane ways an angry 15-year old will handle certain situations, especially heartbreak, but the last act is admittedly loses me a little. Fish Tank is one of the better "not-a-girl-but-not-yet-a-woman" films, but like any other film, it has it's ups and downs, although it succeeds on most other levels, especially the acting, if it is to be believed that Jarvis has no previous acting experience. Fish Tank is perhaps what Thirteen attempted to be. Only with Thirteen, I just ended up despising these monsters called "tweens" even more than I did prior to seeing the film. Fish Tank might take this to the extreme, because while these girls can be brats, Mia certainly takes it to the next level. However, that is probably necessary in order for the film to be above average on the entertainment value. Fish Tank is definitely worth the watch, but having been released by the Criterion Collection, you probably didn't need me to tell you that. Does this movie change my exhaustingly negative opinions on teenage girls? Possibly. Maybe. Probably not. No.

Trailer:

Dogtooth

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 00:23:00 +0000

Most movies I find entertaining are hard to recommend to, say, my mother. Dogtooth is admirable and original in almost every way, but oddly enough, it is incredibly difficult to recommend to almost anybody. Also, it is difficult to discuss without spoiling and ruining the first-viewing experience for a potential viewer. To get the best experience out of this one, it is best to dive into it without knowing what lies ahead. Because of this, I will do my best to keep this review short and sweet.

Dogtooth is a Greek dark-comedy directed in 2009 by Yorgos Lanthimos, and was recently nominated at the Academy Awards for Best Foreign Language film (although In a Better World stole the prize). To put it brief, a sadistic couple is raising their kids entirely isolated and compounded in their home, with no touch with the outside world. They have never met any other living being besides their parents, and whoever the Father brings into their home to deliver the sexual needs of the son. They are raised to believe things that are completely immoral and unethical, and are generally just outrageous lies. What's even stranger is these "kids" aren't really kids anymore, they are probably in their early twenties. But they have the mentality of 8 year-olds. As an audience, we jump into this disturbing home and get a fly-on-the-wall perspective of all the absurdity.

While the film is obviously meant to be satirical and humorous, it is difficult to see the line between funny and simply disturbing. After all, the entire film is about watching these two people mentally corrupt and psychologically (and sometime physically) damage their own kids. The things these kids do to keep themselves entertained at all hours of the day is immorally incomprehensible, as well as the things they "learn", like the dangers of coming across a ferocious house cat (as seen in the trailer posted below.)

But it is hard to hold in laughter at times, like watching the Father intentionally falsely translate and butcher a Frank Sinatra song for the oblivious family, who are thoroughly enjoying it. Just the ridiculous lengths and steps the parents take to convince their kids of such lies, specifically the Father, is clearly insane, but at times hilarious and pitiful. What is also worthwhile of Dogtooth is Lanthimos doesn't treat its audience like idiots. There is no exposition or set-up to explain anything that is happening, and it is up to you to put the pieces together yourself, and that is half the fun of watching. There were several occasions where I would see something or hear a line of dialogue that made absolutely no sense at the time, but would pick up on it later in the film.

Dogtooth is clearly a satirical take on the effects of raising children, and the impact parents have on their everyday mentality. If the appropriate conditions were acquired, a parent could get a child to believe absolutely anything, regardless of how laughable or irrational, and the parents in this film have quite the imagination. But it is an unsettling thought that every little thing we share with our children will be carried with them for the rest of their lives, both the good and the bad.

Trailer:

Let Me In

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 19 Feb 2011 23:20:00 +0000

When I first heard there was an American remake of Let the Right One in in development I was very skeptical, as I'm sure many fans of the original were. Let the Right One in is a 2008 Swedish film directed by Tomas Alfredson that has built a very strong fan base, and the fact that Hollywood was trying to profit from it had many nerds foaming at the mouth. If you are unfamiliar with the film, I wrote a quick review of it a while back, and it is currently still on Netflix's Watch Instantly, so there is no excuse not to watch it.

Matt Reeves, who only previously directed 2008's Cloverfield, takes on the remake, and he does an excellent job in his version, titled Let Me In. However, it is very clear that this is a remake of the film, and not a re-imagining of the book, written by John Ajvide Lindqvist, which the original film is based on. Reeves uses Alfredson's film as the Bible for his version, and literally uses most of the same shots, angles, and dialogue, which is understandably enough to get fans of the original's heads exploding. Reeves does however make little touches here and there to make the film distinctive, and there are a few aspects he even gets better. The most noticeable one is the general look of the film, which is obvious upon the first shot. Alfredson's film was arguably visually bright, and used the location, which was usually covered in snow, to emphasize that. Reeves' version simply feels very dark and gritty, but warm at the same time (also set in the '80s). It's the look Max Payne seemed to attempt but ultimately failed at (miserably).

Amazingly, Reeves has managed to find two more child actors that don't totally suck at life, as they are both incredibly talented and have managed to create completely engaging characters on the screen. Kodi Smit-McPhee plays Owen, the lonely and bullied boy who befriends Abby. Smit-McPhee's only other experience in film was in The Road, another incredibly gritty and bleak film, but also very powerful and well-executed by the 14 year-old actor. And on the other hand, Abby, the mysterious and strange girl, is played by Chloe Moretz, who most recently had her breakout role as "Hit-Girl" in 2010's Kick-Ass. It is arguable without Moretz, who did such an excellent job convincing me that she could cut off my fingers and feed them to me, the movie would have been a failure (although it technically was, financially). Moretz's talents are only strengthened here, and it is once again fair to say that the relationship between the two is one of the most believable and engaging ones I've seen in a long time, even though the girl is a merciless vampire.

The most stand out contribution from Reeves must be a particular scene, or more specifically shot, involving a car and actor Richard Jenkins, who is Abby's caretaker (in his most note-worthy role in a long time). The scene is probably one of the only very few that is entirely absent from the original and is a completely new addition. But it is so well done and captivating that it is almost worth the movie ticket (or rental) alone. See what happens when you try, Matt Reeves?

There are lots of changes or touches by Reeves however that aren't quite up to par with the original, or at least debatably so. One of my biggest grievances with the film is the poor use of CGI, more specifically when Abby is attacking her pray for lunch. The movements are just so inorganic that it is hard to ignore. It would be passable if we only witnessed it once or even twice, which was all we needed, but it repeats itself quite a few times throughout the film and weakens the experience, withering the line between believable and silly. The music score, composed by Michael Giacchino, is also extremely overused, as there is rarely a point in the film when it isn't heard. It is constantly trying to remind you what emotions you should be feeling, and is often just unnecessary. One last grievance is about a couple of my favorite scenes from the original, which Reeves has attempted to recreate, mostly shot by shot, but still managing with subpar results. One of the best shots of the original is when a certain woman bursts aflame in the hospital, and it is so hauntingly beautiful and mesmerizing to watch. The way the fire was created was incredibly authentic. But in the remake, Reeves seems to make a joke out of it, as not only does the fire look seriously fake, but one of the standby nurses catches on fire as well, resulting in an incredibly unnecessary death. There is also one of the last scenes in the film, which takes place in a pool. The scene is also in the original, and it is so brilliantly done that it is probably one of my all time favorites. Not attempting to top that, Reeves again simply recreates it shot by shot, but it is not nearly as intense as the original, and just left me with the feeling that it was completely unnecessary to try to recreate it in the first place. Either way, watching the fate of Owen's bullies is perhaps over the top, but strangely satisfying.

Directors aside, it is the story itself that makes the film so engaging in the first place, the connection between the two children. While the ending of the film is in a way satisfying and cheerful, and is also strangely hopeless at depressing at the same time. Enduring in the fact that of course these two have come together to understand and accept one another for who they are, but it is somber at the same time ti realize that Abby has no remorse for her actions when she kills for her own benefit, and how Owen not only tolerates it, but he accepts it. There is a scene when Owen is browsing through Abby's things in her apartment, and he comes across old pictures of her and another boy (of course Abby looks the same as she does in the present). Who is the boy? Is he her caretaker when he was a child? If this is the case, one can't help but wonder how many times Abby has gone through this relationship before, and exactly what kind future Owen is approaching. It is likely he will reach the same fate as Abbey's serial killing caretaker, all in the name of her life. Is Abby really in love with the boy, or just leading him on, as she has done possibly countless times before, all for her own sake?

Regardless of which one you prefer, it really doesn't matter, as they both present incredible performances, themes, and visuals all around. Just take which flavor you like best and go with it. But do yourself a favor and see both. The ability to do so and compare the two films is a unique experience that is difficult to find elsewhere.

Trailer: