God's lonely man

Clean, Shaven

2006-02-16T17:10:00.000-08:00

This film is really difficult to talk about, because its primary aim is to get you inside the head of a guy, and to establish mood. I should clarify that it's a really messed up guy, and a really unsettling mood. It succeeds on both counts. Not only is it one of the best psychological horror films of the 90s, but it's one of the few great American indies of the decade. Relying on a minimum of dialogue, writer/director Lodge Kerrigan makes the most of hectic POV editing, cover-your-eyes makeup effects, and an unreliable protagonist. Like this year's Tony Takitani, it's very short and focused, and packs more of an emotional punch than most 3-hour epics. The brief closing shot is one of the most haunting I've ever seen. It's one of those films that slowly gets under your skin, and then just lets you have it at the end.
For those wanting to seek it out, be warned- it's not a very pleasant viewing experience and there are a couple unbelievably grisly moments, but it's as good as this type of film gets.

The Squid and the Whale

2006-02-07T13:46:00.000-08:00

This is an article I submitted to Bandoppler magazine (www.bandoppler.com). I wasn't given any guidelines for the length, but the word count seems to be pushing into feature territory, so it might be chopped in half. The site just launched yesterday and they're updating content almost daily, so it could be posted any day. Anyway, here's the full version before the editor unsheathes his sword.

The Squid and the Whale
Directed by Noah Baumbach
Samuel Goldwyn

“There is one thing you should know well, of this there is no doubt- you cannot get inside again, once you have come out”- from “Dilated To Meet You” by Loudon Wainwright III

The single most frustrating and painful thing for one person to hear from another is “I’m sorry, but...”. Didn’t our mothers teach us that everything after the ‘but’ cancels out the first part? In truth all of us have been on both ends of the exchange, and all of us have been torn about how to move on without doing any more damage. Then there are circumstances in life which in and of themselves seem to have nothing to give but halfway apologies. From the perspective of an adolescent or child old enough to understand the situation, divorce is one of those cases. As eloquently stated by a character in the Noah Baumbach-directed “The Squid and the Whale,” “joint custody blows.” And who is to blame, from a child’s point of view? The break-up of one’s parents is not something that can be explained in a way that will make everything seem right again; if the child is old enough, it is something like the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, and a point of no return.
Baumbach’s film plays on that fact brilliantly in his intimate portrayal of a family in crisis. Although the narrative centers around the divorce between Bernard and Joan Berkman (played to perfection by Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney), it is not really a film about divorce. It is not about the social causes of divorce, and has no clear socio-political agenda. Neither is it a morality play in any way; all of the characters are flawed but none are made the scapegoat. Most importantly, we should not read too much into Noah Baumbach’s intentions with the film; a select few critics seem unnecessarily bent on viewing it as a letter of hate to his own father. More than any of those things, it is simply a film about growing up and the complexities that entails; most accurately, it is one of the most sensitive coming-of-age stories this generation has yet produced. In one of the first conversations between Joan and Walt after the fateful family conference, she tries to reason with him by asking,, “Don’t most of your friends have divorced parents?” This is the world that the film takes place in- Park Slope, Brooklyn, 1986, rendered in very specific detail- but it is our reality as well.

- “Me and Mom versus you and Dad.”
- An excessively competitive family game of doubles tennis.
These are the first things we hear and see as the title screen appears and disappears in a flash, and already we have been told a great deal about the Berkman family. With apologies to Woody Allen, the “most effective tennis metaphor in an opening scene” of the year award goes to some fish documentary. Younger son Frank sides with Mom, while brother Walt proudly joins their father, who gives some questionable advice regarding his wife’s backhand stroke. When the cataclysmic family conference occurs, these divisions become more pronounced. A teary-eyed Frank complains about his father’s plan to move “across the park”- “Is it even Brooklyn?”. Meanwhile, Walt becomes convinced (certainly through some careful suggestion from his father) that Mom is entirely to blame for the divorce. This is a very normal division along parent lines, even in cases where the parents aren’t separated. Usually depending on personality types, one child will feel a closer bond and understanding with the father, and another will gravitate to the mother.
When all is said and done, this film is about reaching the point in one’s childhood where parents are no longer gods, but human beings like everyone else. This happens with Frank to a degree, but it is mostly Walt’s story. Divorce becomes the catalyst for growth that pushes him into young adulthood in multiple ways. For the majority of the film, Walt believes that his father is right and the rest of the world is wrong about everything: Why can’t his father get his newest novel published? Because the publishing houses don’t appreciate true quality. Should he read Tale of Two Cities for his English class? Hell no- his dad says it’s minor Dickens, and he wouldn’t want to waste his time. By the cryptic final scene of the film, it is clear to the audience that Walt has suddenly seen something in Dad that wasn’t there before, and it will forever change the way he lives his own life. Frank experiences this to a smaller extent when he learns of his mother’s adultery; there is a disturbing and poetic scene where mother and son are looking into a mirror together, and Frank shows a new side of himself . This is one of the most painful processes a child will ever endure, and it has happened to every one of us who idolized our parents when we were younger.
The aforementioned opening sequence tells us something right away that is a key to understanding the arc of the film’s narrative and an ending that seems to come before the story is over. “The Squid and the Whale” is about divisions, about clashing forces- the mother and the father, the intellectual and the “philistine”, the appearance of the things and their true nature, and finally, the squid and the whale. Underlying each of these conflicts and every scene in the film is the battle between cynical detachment and vulnerability. By watching his father, Walt has learned how to hide his feelings and, often, his ignorance behind a reference-heavy jargon that passes for intellectualism. When he starts to dating and becoming conscious of his own sexuality, he looks to his father for advice, who tells him to play the field, and shares that he regrets not being a “free agent” when he was becoming a successful novelist. Furthermore, father encourages son in a kind of condescension towards non-intellectuals (which doesn’t work with Frank, as seen in a humorous ping-pong game). In a wonderful scene, Frank’s tennis instructor Ivan accidentally passes in front of Bernard’s car, which prompts the latter to call Ivan “a bit of a half-wit”, and share a laugh with Walt. Meanwhile, Frank is in the backseat of the car, head cocked sideways to look out the window in wonder at Ivan, whom he admires as a father figure.
The key moment in the story arc occurs when Walt is forced to make a visit to the school psychiatrist. He begins the encounter with his usual brand of half-baked pretentiousness: When asked to recall a pleasant memory in his life, Walt responds, “Isn’t that kind of a stock question for a shrink?”, to which the doctor responds “Yes. That’s basically how this works.” Walt has been too busy absorbing his father’s own egoism and bitterness with the world to realize the value of things taken for granted. Then comes his great moment of self-discovery, Archimedes’ “Eureka!” for the over-confident: He recalls a childhood memory with his mother, when they snuck away to watch the original “Robin Hood”. That memory triggers another, the times his mother used to take him to the Natural History Museum, where he would be terrified by the monument of the squid and the whale locked in battle. After being questioned by the shrink, Walt realizes that his father was not present during those moments. In the scenes immediately following this visit, it is clear that Walt looks at his father differently, with new doubts and a clearer head. Lying on a hospital bed, Bernard tells him, “you used to be very emotional when you were younger.” And in the final series of images, we realize that Walt has regained a wide-eyed wonder for life and the emotional vulnerability to cry in front of his father. In a day in which nothing is new and American culture goes to the movies to laugh at people who are stupider, crazier, more inept than they are, it is refreshing to see a film where the director asks us to be uncomfortable in our laughter and to sympathize with a character who grows by admitting weakness.
Comparisons to Wes Anderson are not entirely unfounded. Anderson was a producer for the film, and his films also embrace a childlike perspective. On the other hand, this feels like a more adult treatment of family division than the self-consciously twee “The Royal Tenenbaums”, which is a wonderful film for different reasons. It is worth mentioning that Randall Poster, the music supervisor on Anderson’s films, worked on “The Squid and the Whale”. There are some similarities in the way music is used, but in this film it is slightly more esoteric and subtly weaved through scenes. Baumbach and Poster mine the British folk movement of the late 60s for various stages of melancholy and earthy beauty. Four songs by the great Bert Jansch are featured, including “Courting Blues” during the sequence immediately after the children are informed of the separation. Elsewhere, lost classics like Kate and Anna McGarrigle’s “Heart Like A Wheel”, Loudon Wainwright III’s “Lullaby” and “The Swimming Song”, and the Feelies’ “Let Go” immerse us in a world of painful realities. The final masterstroke of the soundtrack is the final scene where Walt painfully comes to terms with himself, as Lou Reed’s epic “Street Hassle” propels him along. It’s a stunning sequence which tugs at just the right strings emotionally if one been along for the journey Walt has just taken.

What ultimately makes this such a special, alive film is the way that everything just “feels right”. Realism means many things to many people; “The Bicycle Thief” is realistic, the CGI effects in Episode III aren’t, and according to Harry Knowles, the grasshopper bondage scene in some new Korean film is the most realistic thing he’s ever seen(!). It’s a tricky term that’s best left elsewhere, but the organic, true-to-life quality of every scene in “The Squid and the Whale” is what makes it such an exciting film, and what reassures me that personal, intelligent auteur cinema is still alive in the US. There is always some independent American filmmaker wanting to claim the title of John Cassavetes’ heir, and this film is one of the few cases where the master’s talent for “small moments” is equalled. There is no better way to celebrate its merits than to conclude with a few of these small moments that live and breathe of their own accord:

- In the opening tennis game, Bernard purposely hits the ball at his wife’s weak spot, and ends up hurting her by putting it too close. The two of them walk to one side of the net and start arguing loudly, while the two sons stand on the other side of the net, staring at a world they don’t yet understand.

- A few scenes later, Frank sees his father arranging a makeshift bed on the couch and asks what the matter is. Dad says something about sleeping out there because his back is hurting, to which Frank responds with a disarming mix of naivete and book-knowledge, “Isn’t the couch worse than the bed... for backs?”

- Frank, a turtle lover, asks his mom if they’ll ever get to visit the Galapagos. She says that her and Ivan will take him to see real turtles on Saturday, which briefly causes his face to light up, until he remembers: “Saturday is Dad’s day.”

- Bernard’s few flashes of vulnerability, such as when he learns that his father has talked to his wife, which brings him to approach her about trying to make the marriage work. Daniels does such a good job of maintaining the cold, unaffected persona that it is startling and moving to see him start to break down.

- The way that Frank looks at Ivan in every scene they are together. So few words are exchanged between the two of them, and yet they seem to share a tight bond of love and understanding. When his father rants that none of the men Joan has been seeing are interesting, Frank responds that he thinks Ivan is “very interesting”.

- Finally, the many scenes where the awkwardness of adolescence is fully captured. Among these are Frank’s first brushes with sexuality, his writhing on the floor after trying too much of his mother’s alcohol, Walt’s first conversation with Sophie, and a wrestling match between the brothers that ends with expletives.

Les Enfants Terribles

2006-01-23T23:23:00.000-08:00

One of Jean-Pierre Melville's influential classics which still isn't available on DVD, this film actually resembles the work of its screenwriter, Jean Cocteau, more than the sophisticated noir which Melville perfected in the years after. It concerns an unusual brother-sister relationship and a gender-bending friend who threatens their bond. The surreal touches sprinkled throughout recall Cocteau's Orpheus and even Polanski. The acting is very good, especially the performance of the devilishly manipulative sister. It's beautifully shot and staged and delivers a knockout of a payoff. A wonderful lost classic of pre-New Wave French cinema.

The Mother and the Whore

2006-01-19T18:24:00.000-08:00

This film history landmark was directed by Jean Eustache, who makes Terrence Malick look like Taksahi Miike (eerie... both with TM initials) in the sparseness of his output. It is pegged as the last masterpiece of the French New Wave, as well as the death of that movement. Of course, calling it a New Wave film brings up questions about its formal approach- Does it use a lot of jump cuts and purposely jerky shot/scene transitions? Does it feature handheld camera work and on-location shooting? Does it have a Marxist subtext? Does it celebrate or condemn classical Hollywood cinema? After all, "The 400 Blows" and "Weekend", both considered Nouvelle Vague classics, are about as similar as the Beatles and Schoenberg. That is to say, "The Mother and the Whore" could just as likely be a traditional narrative film as it could be a Godard-type film essay.
Actually, it feels most similar to something like "My Night at Maud's", which came out only 4 years before. You could say that it's a three and a half hour Rohmer film. Like "Jules and Jim", it features an optimistic menage-a-trois that gradually becomes too much of a good thing. It also shares similarities with the American underground films that were made in the wake of the European new wave, especially the free-wheeling looseness of "Faces" and the self-conscious talkiness of "David Holzman's Diary" and "Who's That Knocking At My Door".

Like "Kill Bill" or "Boogie Nights", however, "The Mother and the Whore" would not really be worth its marathon running time if it were only the sum of its influences. Instead, it uses those formal and narrative ideas to create a new set of characters and concerns. New Wave icon Jean-Pierre Leaud plays the over-cultured and often pretentious protagonist, who bounces between the girlfriend he lives with and a nurse he meets at a cafe. Most of the narrative involves ramblings between the characters about sex, love, money, feminism, and the things that were on people's minds at the turn of the 70s. Unlike some Godard films, the dialogue is not disembodied from the characters, but tells us a lot about them, the way it does in a film by Woody Allen or Eric Rohmer. The three lovers live their "liberated" lives self-consciously, seeming to try very hard to do what young people do. There is a wonderful, lengthy scene in the last stretch of the film where the nurse, after a drunken night between the three of them, gives a morning-after monologue about what she really wants and what free love really means to her. It's a devastatingly emotive climax to a film that seems to hide its heart for the first three hours; in fact it is the characters who refuse to be vulnerable and who pretend that nothing affects them. In contrast with the mournful, contemplative ending of "Jules and Jim", "The Mother and the Whore" ends with a fragment, a piece of organic domestica capped off with a comma rather than a period. It's one of those great fragment endings like "Faces", "Cure", or "A History of Violence" that leaves the audience with questions and doubts, and yet feels satisfying. Like life, right?

Memories of Murder

2006-01-16T23:39:00.000-08:00

This is one of the best serial killer thrillers to come out in a while, and more proof that Korea is producing some of the most interesting and original films in the world right now. Like his contemporary Chan-wook Park, Bong Joon-ho's modus operandi is an unusual mixing of oddball humor, shocking brutality, and deeply felt pathos. It shouldn't work, but it really, really does. For example, one of the suspects in the case is a mildly retarded young man who is the butt of many jokes at the beginning of the film; near the end of the film, he suddenly ceases to be a comic figure in the most startling shot of the film, which I won't disclose. I'll just say that it recalls the great ending of Chinatown- those moments when everything seems to finally be going right, and then suddenly, all is lost. The transition from caricature to tragic figure is present in the characters of the cops as well. The small-town officers are clumsy and brutal, just trying to get the investigation over with quickly so they can say they were the ones who solved the case; we feel nothing but disdain for them until the final act, when we truly see them in their tragic humanity (much like the transformation of Jake LaMotta in Raging Bull). In the climactic scene of the film, the slick big-city cop is stripped bare as well, and it becomes clear that he is no different than the vicious locals he distances himself from.
The last scene, an epilogue some years later, is deeply haunting- try forgetting the look on Song Kang-ho's face as the film fades out.
There are some clever formal tricks throw in. For example, there is a scene where it seems that the protagonist's wife is about to be the next victim. Through some Hitchcock-style crosscutting we see POV shots that tell us the killer is about to pounce. Suddenly another young woman appears, walking in the opposite direction. What happens next? The director does an excellent job of playing with the expectations of genre thrillers in that scene.
Overall, this is one of the best films released in the US this year (it came out in 2003 in Korea).

Too Late Blues

2006-01-16T23:25:00.000-08:00

John Cassavetes' most neglected film, made after Shadows and before Faces and the studio one with Burt Lancaster, is not one the same level as most of his other work, but it's actually not that bad. Like Shadows, the action is divided into little vignettes, in bars and pool halls. The best thing about Too Late Blues is the way it reproduces the kind of interactions that people actually have in those situations. Screenwriting teachers and gurus will tell you that good dialogue is not the way that people talk in reality, but a more intelligent, streamlined dialect. Cassavetes takes the opposite approach, usually by encouraging and facilitating improvisation; I find the results that he gets to be exciting and engaging. For instance, people who are familiar with each other don't need to "fill in the blanks"; they have their own ways of communicating and their own jokes that will sound stupid to anyone who might eavesdrop. Now why would anyone want to see those kinds of conversations on film? Because it's fascinating! Martin Scorsese obviously agreed, because many of the scenes in Mean Streets and Who's That Knocking At My Door use the looseness of Shadows and this film as a framework for depicting Little Italy.
Back to Too Late Blues. The story is not great, and some of the acting is awful. But Bobby Darin as the conflicted band leader is actually quite good, and it's always great to see a young Seymour Cassell. While it's not essential viewing, there's no good reason why it hasn't had a proper DVD release.

Joint Security Area

2006-01-11T00:34:00.000-08:00

I have to be honest, the first 20 or so minutes of this had me worried. It felt like A Few Good Men or any military procedural drama, but without the polish and tightness that usually makes that genre work. Particularly awkward are the early scenes with English dialogue; the lawyer is supposed to be Swiss but has a Korean accent? What is this, that Biola film about POWs?

By the time it switches gear into an extended flashback into the past, which recounts the crime scene and the events leading up to it, JSA gets very good and very compelling. On the North-South border of Korea, two soldiers from each side start a late night clandestine friendship that they envision as the beginning of a unified republic. We come to like these characters very much, partly because of the solid writing, but mostly due to the charismatic actors who give each soldier a unique personality. Director Chan-wook Park has used each of the four actors in other films, and they really work well with his mix of deadpan humor and high melodrama.

The second segment ends in a recreation of the fateful night, which is cut off right at the moment when the drama beings. We're jolted back into the investigation, where one of the men has attempted suicide. Playing around with narrative time has become old hat, but this is one of those films that reminds you how effective the technique can be. We are only given pieces of information at a time, until the end, when we see how things actually unfolded.

Every other review mentions the film's final shot, but how could they not? It takes a scene from earlier in the film, shoots its from a different angle, and then freezes the frame, simulating a snapshot from a tourist's camera. In the same take, the camera pans and zooms in and out, revealing each of the four soldiers. Such a brilliant and tragic way to end the film.

Although it's not Park's best film and feels like the work of a director who hasn't quite found his voice at parts, it's an effective drama and has some moments of brilliance that anticipate his more ambitious and assured Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Oldboy, and Cut.

Hostel

2006-01-09T00:46:00.000-08:00

Terrible, pointless trash. It's interesting that this and Wolf Creek were released within a few weeks of each other, because they could serve as a film school lesson in the good and bad of this subgenre- like Saw vs. Oldboy or Audition.
It's difficult to know where to begin with Hostel, there are just so many things wrong with it. Meaningless, boring subplots, sloppy editing, and it even feels too long for a 90 min. film. This is the kind of script that makes you wonder how it ever got into production. And in a genre that usually overextends itself in terms of style there's a puzzling absence of any artful aesthetic touches. Overall, just a mess.

Wolf Creek

2005-12-28T00:11:00.000-08:00

Ebert says you might not want to be my friend anymore for seeing this movie. You've been forewarned.

Basically this one has no surprises. You get the whole film in the one paragraph snyposis and there aren't really any plot twists, but it succeeds in the details. The first 45 minutes or so build up ominously to the night where the three cityfolk break down on at Wolf Creek and encounter the villain. There is a possiblity of romance between the dude and one of the girls, and a festive spirit hangs over the group, who are looking to have a good time (unlike in Hostel, presumably, there is no pretense to what "a good time" means in this film; the party at the beginning might seem like a dumb frathouse bash to me, but there is no implication that they are doing anything other than enjoying each other's company). It might be a bit too much downtime with characters that aren't especially interesting, but I can't complain about the effect of the first half on the whole, which is considerable.

The middle section is where things start to get really good. The three travellers meet up with a farmer type who seems like a nice country fellow with a wicked sense of humor; he offers to help with their car and reassures them that they should be all set by the morning. The whole sequence takes place at night, in near pitch black, which is a wonderful touch. You can only use the word "ominous" so many times in reviewing a horror film, but this sequence is shot and acted in such a way that makes hell seem around the corner. We breathe a few sighs of relief, but we can't help but feel that something is wrong. The best moment comes when they are stiting around a campfire, having beers, and the city guy makes a comment like "I bet you love the freedom..." and goes on to compare the farmer to Crocodile Dundee; the latter, who has been jollying it up and spreading cheer, gets really quiet and shoots a look that ought to go down in horror film history. With a slight damper on the evening, the three campers go to sleep while the man works on their engine.

After a few seconds of black screen, the next morning begins with an excellent series of shots, slowly revealing one of the women tied up in a barn. She breaks free and walks outside, and the horror begins...

Clearly Wolf Creek is just another of a recent surge of Texas Chainsaw Massacre homages, but it works, oddly, because it keeps things simple and doesn't bog the narrative down with pointless subtext and sideplots. Critics like Walter Chaw are right in that there is not a lot going in terms of theme; you might say it's a mini-Barton Fink cautionary tale, shattering the myth of good country people. But the lack of pretense is really what makes this film interesting. Like Even Dwarves Started Small, there is something a twisted sort of purity to it. It truly is just a nightmare. It's like the archetypical dreams I've had before where I'm being chased by someone, and I keep getting caught right as I seem to get away. As in those dreams, any sense of time and place vanishes in the last sequence of the film. Although it would be accurate to label it as "realist horror", the final third is very expressionistic and even surreal. One visual motif that really works in the film is the intercutting of landscape shots with closeups. The rough outback lends itself well to visual poetry. The horror sequences work quite well as genre entertainment, creating tension effectively. And there is a brilliant series of shots in the last scene of the film that nails the "sigh of relief" moment that so many films of this type handle clumsily.

If the film is really getting at anything, it seems to be that line between reality and nightmare. It begins with a statement that the film is based on actual events, and then reels off a statistic about the number of people who go missing in Australia, and the 5-10% who are never found. It ends with a cryptic shot that unites the killer with the landscape. As an insight into human nature, it's nothing on the level of Kubrick's bleak conclusions, but it makes its point by the end- unspeakably terrible things happen to people without explanation, and often at the hands of other human beings. This is reality. Is it, therefore, something we should be making and watching movies about? I'm not sure, but I have to admit that I'm fascinated by it.

Closing note to anyone who might be interested in seeing it but is unsure of content- there are a couple really gritty moments and several killings in the film, but you honestly "see" a lot less than might be expected. I'm not sure if it was edited heavily for American release, but the director avoids several money shots that the new breed of American horror might have milked to please the gorehounds. Like the original TCM, the film is all about the terror of anticipation, the moments in between the physical pain. Obviously, it's not for all audiences; that's a no-brainer.

Lamerica

2005-12-12T16:39:00.000-08:00

In the realm of political films, things that make "film" exciting to me often tend to get tossed aside in favor of loyalty to a cause, or contempt for some kind of social condition. That doesn't necessarily make them unsuccessful, it just makes me want to avoid them most of the time. I prefer when art attempts to make statements that aren't bound to a specific time period or location.

Lamerica sometimes threatens to cross the line of dating itself, but overall is a very good humanist film. The title is a play on words; the journey of Italian immigrants to America at the turn of the century is compared to poor Albanians trying to get into Italy, which is "America" to them. The performances are mostly very good and the final scene is powerful. I'm not entirely sure what political statement director Gianni Amelio is attempting to make; it seems more likely that, while visiting the Albanian people, he lost track of whatever agenda he had and decided to simply portray an empathy for human suffering. Because of that, Lamerica will be worth watching in 50 years, like the neo-realist films of the 40s are today.

The '90s

2005-12-07T07:55:00.000-08:00

I've been really busy lately and haven't watched many new movies, but I thought I'd try to list my 20 favorites of the '90s, to keep this thing up to date. Except for the first two, they're not really in order of preference.

Goodfellas
Pulp Fiction
Chungking Express
Days of Being Wild
Bottle Rocket
Bad Lieutenant
Boogie Nights
Archangel
The Thin Red Line
Short Cuts
Seven
Cure
Hana-bi (Fireworks)
Three Colors
Barton Fink
Casino
Delicatessen
The Addiction
Breaking the Waves
Deconstructing Harry

Wings of Desire

2005-11-20T21:08:00.000-08:00

Beautiful and poetic. Amazing cinematography- some of the images look like they were ripped from a lost Murnau film. Some of the voiceovers are obtuse to a degree that makes Terrence Malick and David Gordon Green sound like Raymond Chandler, but they're always thought-provoking and grounded in human concerns.
Bruno Ganz- what can you say? The perfect actor to play a lovestruck angel. His love for humanity and the little details of earthly life becomes love for a profoundly lonely woman, which gives him the chance to experience the fullness of life as a child of God. There's more than meets the eye; I'm sure Wenders is also making a statement about the state of Berlin in the late '80s, but what stands out to me is the sophisticated richness of the human relationships in the film.
Along with Paris, Texas, this proves that Wenders was once capable of a degree of sensitive humanist characterization reserved for Jean Renoir, John Cassavetes, and Kenji Mizoguchi. And who knows, maybe he still has a few gems in him. I'm looking forward to Don't Come Knocking.

Pulse

2005-11-20T20:44:00.000-08:00

One reviewer says that the scariest thing about the film is the way the ghosts move. Certainly there is a palable creepiness to those scenes and to the images that appear on computer screens. But I think the most unsettling thing is the lack of sensationalism. Like Kiyoshi Kurosawa's other films, Pulse is a true original in the horror genre, and it deserves recognition as more than just a genre film. With the exception of a few viscerally shocking moments, everything unfolds with a chilling indifference, as if the characters don't realize the seriousness of what is happening to their friends. People disappear and become black smudges on the wall and everyone seems so terribly bored. The effect is completely terrifying, both in retrospect and while watching the film; it drains the viewer emotionally and makes the end of the world feel right around the corner. The apocalyptic vision of the film is one of the most unsettling ever put on the screen. Much of the mood of the film is created by Kurosawa's typical visual techniques, pushed to extremes: lots of deep-focus long shots where individual elements of mise-en-scene are manipulated in single takes, and dull whites and grays making up most of the color palette. Overall, it's a shockingly effective critique on modern loneliness and isolation, and especially the effects of technology. In the end, what matters isn't really that the explanation of the ghosts makes sense, but the way that the characters react to what is happening around them.

If there is a major fault to the film, it's the overly abrupt ending. After a slow burning 100 minutes of build-up, I would have liked to see a more well-paced transition into dystopia on the open seas, and a better introduction to the Koji Yakusho character. And that song at the end credits- HORRIBLE. Almost as inappropriate as the song at the end of "Audition".

I still think "Cure" is his masterpiece (and I hope more people seek it out now that Kurosawa is getting a higher profile in the media), but "Pulse" is the most unique horror film of recent years, and one of the best.

The Commitments

2005-11-18T01:16:00.000-08:00

Can a bunch of working class Dubliners in the 90s revive the spirit of 60s soul? That's the main premise of this film, although it raises more issues as the plot unfolds. In the end, the film is about the ability to transcend circumstances, through music in this case. It has a few things going for it; an excellent (amateur) ensemble portraying unique characters, focused pacing, and, needless to say, a fantastic soundtrack featuring Motown classics like "Too Many Fish In The Sea" and "Nowhere To Run", among several others.
But what I really liked about The Commitments was the true enthusiasm for soul music. I can sympathize with the character of the manager, who wants to "spread soul to the Dublin masses". Why? Because there is a life-affirming quality to the classic R&B songs of that time period. Although much of the music is fairly dark in its lyrical musings, being derived from the blues, there is an undeniable joy that drips from the speakers when something like "Sugar Pie Honey Bunch" is playing. For the musicians in the film, music makes life extraordinary. That enthusiasm for the music is evident in small moments, like when the tour bus breaks out in a chorus of the Marvelettes' "Destination: Anywhere" or when the band's pianist plays Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale" on a church organ, and the priest starts talking about the lyrics of the song.

Angel Heart

2005-11-17T13:37:00.000-08:00

This film is a very good entry into a sadly underused genre- horror noir. Other good examples would be Constantine, Seven, and Split Second. It's strange to me that more writers and directors haven't taken advantage of the close relationship between horror and detective films.
It also belongs to another sub-category of films that I have an unexplainable affection for, what you might call forgotten identity films; this includes Oldboy, Obsession, Fight Club, and several others where the protagonist eventually arrives at a viscerally horrific moment of self-discovery. It's a very effective storytelling technique that could justly be called manipulative, but I admire films that can do it well- remember F For Fake.
Riding on a fantastic performance by Mickey Rourke as the gumshoe antihero, a wonderful supporting turn by Robert DeNiro, and good Chandler-esque dialogue, Angel Heart is one of the best horror films of the last couple decades, as well as one of the most stylish noirs. Through associative editing and murky cinematography, both staples of the genre, director Alan Parker establishes a foreboding mood that doesn't let up until the inevitably horrifying climax (credit must be given to the sound design at well, which is chilling). While viewers may have "guessed" either of the major twists of the ending, the acting is so solid, especially from a tough but naive Rourke, that we still feel the shock of the characters' realization.
Finally, it should be noted that the film makes better use of voodoo and its New Orleans location in establishing mood than any other horror film I've seen, including The Skeleton Key, Fulci's The Beyond, Panic in the Streets, and The Serpent and the Rainbow. I Walked With A Zombie would be the exception, although I don't remember if it's set in LA.

Samurai Rebellion

2005-11-16T20:20:00.000-08:00

Another genre classic from Masaki Kobayashi, one of the most versatile and skilled post-war Japanese directors. Like the great "Harakiri", "Rebellion" is an anti-samurai film, setting up a complex situation in which the prevailing system is seen as cruel and unconcerned with the sufferings of individuals. Like Renoir, Kobayashi seems to have the rare gift of making films about social injustice without catering to a partisan agenda or de-emphasizing character.

The film is driven by two great performances, Toshiro Mifune as a patriarch and Go Kato as his son. Additionally, there is a brilliantly cathartic showdown at the end between Mifune and the great Tatsuya Nakadai (the star of Harakiri and Human Condition, taking a lesser role here), which is kind of the samurai film equivalent of Marcello Mastroianni and Alain Delon going head-to-head in a battle of masculine cool.
God bless Criterion for putting out so many Japanese films this year.

Three... Extremes

2005-10-30T01:44:00.000-08:00

I couldn't be more satisfied with this Asian horror anthology. I hadn't previously seen any Fruit Chan films, but his "Dumplings" is a deeply disturbing spin on the old fountain of youth formula. It's clearly has an anti-abortion slant, but I think American reviewers calling it "misogynistic" are missing its relevance to infanticide in the history of Chinese culture. Besides, the screenplay was written by a woman, so it's hardly a case of men "ganging up on" women.
Cinematography by Christopher Doyle never hurts.

The last two are where it really gets exciting, in my opinion. Park Chan-wook's "Cut" has a similar scenario to any number of manipulative (some would say sadistic, but I object) films like Audition, Phonebooth, and most recently Saw. It plays out in a completely unique manner that is characteristic of Park's other films, both aesthetically and thematically. From the brilliantly ornate opening tracking shot on, there is a quality of endless invention that is so thrilling to watch. Much of this is in the humor; while "Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance" was completely downbeat and punishing, "Oldboy" introduced a totally fresh gallows humor into ultraviolent revenge films. This is further developed in "Cut", as Park draws laughs and delicious irony out of the bleakest situations. I can't think of another filmmaker with quite this twisted a sense of humor who still makes it serve theme and narrative; some of the Coen bros. darker films have similar moments, especially "Blood Simple" and "Fargo". More could be said, but this film is all about the ride, and words seem to cheapen it.

Takashi Miike's "Box" is stunning, and, along with "Audition", proves his stature as one of the great horror directors of the last few decades. It's a great Miike introduction for those with weak stomachs, as there is very little blood in it. It has some things in common with other J-horror ghost stories, but it's much, much better and more artfully creepy than the majority of the films in that genre. It moves fluidly between reality (or at least the appearance of it), dream, and flashback (again, whether the "past" actually occurred is debatable). There is an image at the end wraps things up in a viscerally shocking way that could only be rendered through cinema.

In the case of the last two, I would say that "Cut" and "Box" are on par with the best of the directors' work, and are easily the most exciting thing happening in the horror genre these days.

Salo, or the 120 Reasons I Like Battle Royale Better

2005-10-27T18:41:00.000-07:00

Hot Asian chicks.

Samurai Spy

2005-10-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

Masahiro Shinoda (Double Suicide, Pale Flower) directed this film recently released by Criterion on DVD. It's one of the best samurai films I've seen, and the type that could only come from a New Wave director like Shinoda. Beyond the basic idea of using the samurai genre to make a spy film, there are several things that make it stand out. The fight scenes are never played straight; sometimes it's slow-mo and quick cutaways of spears and bodies comically flying through the air, sometimes it's long shots during the most suspenseful moment of the action, but he always gives us a new spin on cliched scenarios. Furthermore, the cinematography is fantastic throughout, making use of fog, chiaroscuro lighting, a steadily moving camera, and compact locations.

The stylistic and technical innovations alone would be enough to get excited about Samurai Spy, but the narrative is equally strong, juggling about 10 characters and featuring a protagonist who poses and answers moral questions without seeming didactic and preachy.
I'm beginning to think the Japanese films of the 50s and 60s were the golden age of sophisticated moral storytelling.

Read My Lips

2005-10-20T18:04:00.000-07:00

This is one of the most mature, sophisticated films I've ever seen. Based on this film and The Beat My Heart Skipped, I'd say that director Jacques Audiard is a great visual stylist, excellent writer, and gets good performances. But it's something more about the two films that's difficult to pin down. I'd hesitate to call it "realism", but he basically manages to make non-movies that never seem self-conscious and are never less than completely engrossing. He rarely uses the kind of dialogue and action that most writers rely on to keep things interesting, keep things moving; and yet, he wraps enough of a narrative around his complex character studies to generate tension and conflict.

Both of the leads are perfect for the roles. I read a review in which the critic complained that the actress playing the woman was too attractive to be receiving insults throughout the film. But that's not the point- the great thing about the actress is that dejected, uncomfortable expression she always has on her face (it works great in The Beat My Heart Skipped too).

Along with Jeuneut, Audiard seems to be the most unique, distinctive director working in France these days.

The Squid and the Whale

2005-10-20T17:51:00.000-07:00

I really liked this one. All the good things critics are saying about it are true. The performances are perfect from the four leads, and Jesse Eisenberg really nails the "too young to be as neurotic as Woody Allen" teenager that I was, and many, many pseudo-cultured young men are. To make reference to the most obvious comparison again, the film features some of the best masochistic intellectual bashing since Annie Hall. Like that film, it goes beyond simple comedy and into the level of insightful commentary on its characters. Also, the references are funny- Carpenter's "The Thing", "The Mother and the Whore", "The Wild Child", "Breathless".

There are many little things that The Squid and the Whale gets right. The portrayal of adolescence is one of the most awkwardly honest I've ever seen in a film. There is a sophistication to the family interactions that never tips into either nostalgia or cynicism, a great achievement in the writing. I particularly loved a small moment in the first scene, where the family is playing a doubles tennis match; as it climaxes in a shouting match between husband and wive, the two sons convene on the other end of the court, watching their parents in silence. The handling of the quick transition between a friendly tennis game and "adult time" is truly great filmmaking. Many moments like that one reminded me of my own childhood, and the kinds of things I felt when I would see my parents arguing.

I haven't seen another Noah Baumbach film, and I wasn't too impressed with the script for The Life Aquatic, but this film is definitely the sign of a writer-director with talent and something to say.

Blue

2005-10-12T16:56:00.000-07:00

Just watched this for the second time in a class. Still my favorite of the series, and the last scene is the best moment in any of the films. One of the best endings in any film, ever.

Afraid To Die

2005-10-12T16:34:00.000-07:00

Great yakuza thriller from Masumura (Blind Beast). Really interesting cast for this type of film- Mishima, Kurosawa favorite Takashi Shimura, an actress I've seen in films from high-profile Japanese directors. The fact that Mishima is a mediocre actor works in favor of the film, enhancing the weakness that the character tries to hide behind a tough guy veneer.

Change of pace

2005-09-30T17:42:00.000-07:00

Since I'm an admitted Scorsese junkie, I think it would be appropriate to post this. I came across his top 10 of the 90s today, and thought he had some interesting choices on there:

1. Horse Thief
2. The Thin Red Line
3. A Borrowed Life
4. Eyes Wide Shut
5. Bad Lieutenant
6. Breaking The Waves
7. Bottle Rocket
8. Crash
9. Fargo
10. Malcolm X / Heat

I haven't seen the two Chinese films, but I would also have The Thin Red Line, Bottle Rocket, and Bad Lieutenant on my list. And Breaking the Waves and Fargo are great films. I didn't care for Crash.

Vengeance Is Mine

2005-09-27T02:56:00.000-07:00

The matter-of-fact way in which the sociopathic antihero of this film goes about his business is startling. Even more unsettling is the fact that the story ultimately offers no characters to respect or sympathize with; even the protagonist's father, who is first presented as a man of strong moral conviction, confesses his secret sin in the end. The final scene is completely engimatic; it's beyond ambiguous, venturing into something more like nihilism.
But Imamura is a highly gifted filmmaker; sometimes I get the feeling that I would understand his films much more if I was more familiar with recent Japanese history and culture. As it is I can always appreciate the formal elegance of his style in The Pornographers and Ballad of Narayama even when the obscurity of the themes in those films leaves me in the cold.
One of the virtuoso moments in "Vengeance Is Mine" is the early scene in which Ken Ogata's character murders the two men. The word "gritty" is thrown around a lot when describing films like Reservoir Dogs and Straw Dogs, but nothing I've seen before has been quite as raw and disturbing as the prolonged stabbing that closes out the scene. The murder sequence also has a perversely funny moment, when Ogata, immediately after killing the first man, goes to a nearby convenience store and buys a knife which he plans to use on the other guy.

Crazed Fruit

2005-09-27T02:37:00.000-07:00

Maybe a good way to assess this film is to consider it the Japanese "Easy Rider". It represents a genre of films that came into being in the late '50s, dramas that dealt specifically with youth culture. Like its American counterpart, it features some interesting editing techniques and a new treatment of young adulthood. And like Easy Rider, it's ultimately not that great of a film when compared to the work being done by Ko Nakahira's contemporaries: Ozu, Kurosawa, Mizoguchi, Naruse, Ichikawa, etc. The emerging Japanese new wave may have drawn inspiration from its coarse subject matter, but the films those directors made far surpassed Crazed Fruit in nearly every way. To finish the Easy Rider analogy, it's worth a look and contains a few great scenes, like when the shy younger brother tells the girl of his affection that he needs to see her soon to return her bathing cap to her, all the while holding the cap in his hand for her to see.

Spirits of the Dead

2005-09-27T02:24:00.000-07:00

Roger Vadim; Jane Fonda; period piece. Enough said about the first segment.

Louis Malle's film is a very good adaptation of "William Wilson," one of Poe's most thematically interesting stories in my opinion. Alain Delon is brilliant as always.

Fellini's "Toby Dammit" is the one to see. Made at the height of his talent, it's rich with the surreal color cinematography that characterizes "Roma" and "Juliet of the Spirits". Italy is really an incredible setting for horror tales- "Don't Look Now" is another example. Fellini turns Rome into a maze of lifeless human forms and apocalyptic landscapes. Watching the awards show scene, it's clear that the director was a master of blocking for the camera; actors fly in and out of the frame as if their 15 minutes were due to expire at any moment. Altman, Woody Allen, and Scorsese all attempted to replicate that style at some point or another in the '70s.
Doesn't Terence Stamp look like the ideal Poe antihero?

Deliverance

2005-09-27T02:23:00.000-07:00

Shower time.

The Wild Child

2005-09-27T02:11:00.000-07:00

My first inclination is to say "That's it?". But on reflection, there is a calculated simplicity about the film that works in its favor. Truffaut presents the story with such a lack of drama and pretension that it becomes almost a documentary. Maybe his aim was to make a true neo-realist film, since most of the classics of De Sica, Rossellini, and Visconti are impure in the sense that they incorporate melodrama into the mise-en-scene and writing. Along with the overwhelming majority of film critics since the French New Wave, I tend to believe that absolute realism (as if it were even possible), is not necessarily the best goal in narrative filmmaking.
However, this film is about science. It seeks to replicate an experiment in which a cultured middle-class doctor attempts to acclimate a feral kid to society. In that sense, it succeeds, and there is a subtle catharsis in the final scene that defies its humble presentation. Not quite what I expected from the director of intensely dramatic films like Jules and Jim and Two English Girls, but a wonderful departure nonetheless.

Obsession

2005-09-22T23:35:00.000-07:00

Although it had the misfortune of being released in the same year as Carrie, Obsession is a hell of a film. I'd venture to say it's my favorite of director Brian DePalma's that I've yet seen. Vertigo is one of my favorites, and I often love films that tackle similar themes- 2046, Mulholland Dr., etc. Obsession could almost be considered a remake, but it introduces an element that takes the story in a different direction and gives it a unique identity. Strangely enough, the ending reminded me of Oldboy; I wouldn't be surprised if Chan-wook Park had drawn inspiration from this film.

Aesthetically it's DePalma's most mature and beautiful film. Vilmos Zsigmond (who was present at the screening and talked about the film) used innovative film treatment techniques and oblique angles to achieve the surreal atmosphere that is sustained throughout. Paul Schrader, who lists Vertigo as one of his 10 favorite films, keeps the dialogue simple and jarring when it needs to be. An underrated classic of the '70s.

Gate of Flesh

2005-09-15T18:24:00.000-07:00

Suzuki is one of my favorite directors, so it's exciting to see Criterion put out four of his films already this year. Gate of Flesh was classified as an adult film on its original Japanese release, but it's pornographic in the same way X-rated Midnight Cowboy is- which is to say, not at all. One of the things that makes Suzuki's B-films so enjoyable and inspiring is the playful touch he injects in the production design, camera work, editing, etc. In this film, a band of obstinate prostitutes (think Sin City) in post-war Japan spend their days looking for pleasure and giving the finger to everything they dislike, especially GIs. The costume design is wonderful- four of the five women wear pastel dresses, each of a different color, while the sophisticated outcast of the group wears a traditional Japanese outfit. The effect is similar to the West Side Story-ish gangs of The Fighting Elegy or the ranking of killers in Branded to Kill. It's a big genre joke, but really adds another dimension to the simple story.
Like Story of a Prostitute, and moreso even, this is a pessimistic film that borders on tragedy and expressionist pathos. It seems that the tragic hero is not the protagonist, but Japan itself; it is portrayed as a dejected group of people united only by their nihilism. Truly a sad portrait of the after-effects of WW2 on Japan's national consciousness. Not nearly Suzuki's best film, but a great example of his stylistic enthusiasm.

Dangerous Game

2005-09-15T08:53:00.000-07:00

Every time I watch an Abel Ferrara film, I decide afterwards that he's the single most underrated American filmmaker of the last couple decades. Even his less well-reviewed ones like The Addiction and The Funeral are some of the best and most challenging movies I've ever seen. And Dangerous Game confirms that. Lord, what a movie.
It seems to get bad reviews all around the board, and I can only think of two reasons for that- a. critics hate personal films and tend to write them off as indulgent; b. the relentlessly bleak tone of the film. Usually Ferrara's films drop you in the gutter of humanity for 2 hours and then end on a note of transcendent redemption. Dangerous Game just keeps getting deeper and deeper into spiritual death and finally sticks the knife in at the end.
It's kind of his "Day For Night" or "8 1/2"- that is, an expose of the artist's role in the filmmaking process. There are a couple of really great references to that effect. First, "Blue Moon" is heard at two different moments, the opening credits and the end crawl; I saw this as a clear reference to the scene in "8 1/2" where Guido's wife comes to visit him suddenly, knowing that this film is very clearly indebted to Fellini's. The other is towards the end and really gives you something to think about; after an intense fight with his wife, Keitel's character watches "Burden of Dreams", the great documentary on the making of Werner Herzog's "Fitzcarraldo". In particular he sees the scene where Herzog admits that he has absolutely zero sense of satisfaction and happiness with completing the monumental task of making that film, and no one will be able to convince him otherwise; without needing to hear anything from Keitel's director, we realize what Herzog's words mean for him. Having seen "Burden of Dreams" and "Fitzcarraldo" really contributes to the weight of that scene, and it may be considered a weakness of the script to quote a film that not everyone has seen- or maybe Ferrara just knows his audience well enough.
But beyond being just a film about film, Dangerous Game has much in common aesthetically and thematically with emotionally intense chamber dramas like "Scenes From A Marriage", "Paris, Texas", and "A Woman Under the Influence". The tension between characters is almost unbearable at parts. Harvey Keitel has given some classic performances- "Mean Streets", "Bad Lieutenant", "Ulysses' Gaze", "Reservoir Dogs"- and this one is as good as all of those.
I've made it to the end of this review without a single mention of Madonna, which I count as an accomplishment. But now that it's out there, let me say that viewers would get much more out of this film if they didn't spend the entire duration marvelling at the parallels between the actress and her character- her performance is good enough to make those secondary concerns unnecessary.

Sympathy For Mr. Vengeance

2005-09-15T08:49:00.000-07:00

Although there's absolutely no question Oldboy is the better film, Sympathy is much better than the critics are giving it credit for. For one thing, its take on vengeance/vigilante justice is one of the most sobering and unsettling I've ever seen on film. As with Oldboy, there's a wonderfully healthy sense of absurdity in many of the scenes that really seems unique to this director, and I'm excited to see what he does with Lady Vengeance, and future films. His visual style is mostly superb, if not always focused on plot. One reviewer said that by the second half of the film, the director's talent is wasted on shock value as one awful killing follows another, but Park seems to use the non-stop intensity as an expressionistic storytelling technique rather than an end in itself, which I can't find any problem with.It has its flaws, and I'd probably give it a B, but it's still one of the more exciting and original films coming out of Asia in the last few years.

2005-09-14T16:27:00.000-07:00

Most of the time when I watch a film, I have certain thoughts and impressions I'd like to express in some way; I think a blog is the perfect way to get those things down into concrete ideas rather than just letting them fly around in my head until the next sensory overload comes along.

To begin with, I tried to make a list of my 50 favorite films I've ever seen, which will be interesting to return to in a year after I've watched new films and re-watched these ones. Sometimes I feel like I need to make "favorites" lists to get things organized and try to determine the common threads between the movies, albums, books, etc. that mean the most to me. It's clear to me that with a few exceptions (The Thing, Open City, My Night at Maud's), I tend to like very expressionistic, stylish films; the ideal to me, as expressed in most of these films, is a perfect convergence of form and content, artist(s) and audience. That's all very abstract, and it's a difficult thing to express. It would be easier to take each film and give examples of individual scenes or moments, but who has that kind of time?
With this in mind, though, I realize that there are certain types of films I'm predisposed to like based on my approach/tastes, and certain films I can only appreciate without truly liking.
Enough is enough. Here's the list-

8 1/2 (dir. Federico Fellini)
Mean Streets (Martin Scorsese)
Taxi Driver (Scorsese)
Jules and Jim (Francois Truffaut)
Sunrise (F.W. Murnau)
Chinatown (Roman Polanski)
Tokyo Drifter (Seijun Suzuki)
Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock)
Nashville (Robert Altman)
Rules of the Game (Jean Renoir)
Days of Being Wild (Wong Kar-Wai)
In the Mood For Love (Wong)
2046 (Wong)
City Lights (Charles Chaplin)
Raging Bull (Scorsese)
Goodfellas (Scorsese)
Blade Runner (Ridley Scott)
Chungking Express (Wong)
Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino)
Faces (John Cassavetes)
Bad Lieutenant (Abel Ferrara)
The Thing (John Carpenter)
The Thin Red Line (Terrence Malick)
Le Cercle Rouge (Jean-Pierre Melville)
Rocco and his Brothers (Luchino Visconti)
I Fidanzati (Ermanno Olmi)
Harakiri (Masaki Kobayashi)
Archangel (Guy Maddin)
Night of the Living Dead (George Romero)
The Addiction (Ferrara)
Ugetsu (Kenji Mizoguchi)
Woman in the Dunes (Hiroshi Teshigahara)
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (Sergio Leone)
The Cranes are Flying (Mikhail Kalatozov)
Ashes and Diamonds (Andrzej Wajda)
Open City (Roberto Rossellini)
Boogie Nights (P.T. Anderson)
The Life and Death of Col. Blimp (Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger)
My Night at Maud's (Eric Rohmer)
Alien (Scott)
2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick)
Manhattan (Woody Allen)
Audition (Takashi Miike)
Bottle Rocket (Wes Anderson)
Stranger Than Paradise (Jim Jarmusch)
Blue Velvet (David Lynch)
Pierrot Le Fou (Jean-Luc Godard)
Ordet (Carl Theodor Dreyer)
Wild Strawberries (Ingmar Bergman)
Paris, Texas (Wim Wenders)