Looking back to see when I posted my last Movie Roundup, I am frankly astonished that it has been over a month. See, I try to do these by blocks of ten or so films instead of following any particular timetable. I guess March was an especially light month, viewing-wise, but it was also a very busy month in lots of other ways, so I suppose all is forgiven. I am back. The Movie Roundup has returned, and the post is slightly longer than usual this time just to compensate for the delay.
Up, up, and away.
Adaptation. (Spike Jonze, 2002) 88
There is a novel by Italo Calvino called If On a Winter's Night a Traveler, wherein the reader almost immediately becomes aware that he or she is is the main character and that the book is, in fact, about a person attempting to read a novel by Italo Calvino called If On a Winter's Night a Traveler. Adaptation, the second of two (and hopefully not the last) brilliant Spike Jonze/Charlie Kaufman collaborations, plays with similar ideas of reality: it is fundamentally a movie about a screenplay that the viewer quickly discerns is the screenplay of the film they are watching. And despite the fictional (or at least semi-fictional -- I hope the guy isn't this neurotic in real life) Nicolas Cage-Kaufman's insecurities about writing something structurally solid and satisfying, there is literally not a single level that this film does not work perfectly on. It's one of the most airtight scripts I can think of, to the extent that it becomes a functional self-contained universe that keeps feeding into itself over and over (something which it's only too conscious of, see: Ouroboros). It's everything a movie ought to be, despite ultimately being nothing that Cage-Kaufman initially wants it to be ("I don't want to make it into some Hollywood thing"). It's a meditation on desire and hope and frustration, it's a biting satire of Hollywood, it's a super stylish exercise in cinematography and direction, it's a showcase for fine acting (Cage, Streep, and Cooper -- who won an Oscar for his role -- are all extraordinary), and -- yes -- it has one hell of a brilliant, original, thought-provoking screenplay. In other words, yeah, it's ridiculously good.
Casshern (Kazuaki Kiriya, 2004) 27
Apparently Kazuaki Kiriya has never heard of visual excess. It's important for a film to have a well defined visual style; necessary, one might even say. Like all components in filmmaking, though, there is a limit, and at that limit exists a line that should not be crossed. Casshern nonchalantly ignores that line early on and spends the next 117 dreary minutes becoming one of the most tedious, overdirected pieces of crap I have seen in a good long while. It's about time, too; rewatching all these favorites, I was starting to fall under some delusion of universal goodness. And of course it's not enough that Kiriya's D-grade video-game-on-acid aesthetic is so damn pervasive that it's impossible to tell what the hell is going on: no, we need an equally impenetrable story about war and genetic mutants to really seal the deal. The unfortunate thing is, there are some good ideas here. In the right hands, I have no doubt this could be a compelling sci-fi story. But Kiriya clearly has no damn clue how to handle any of this, and the result is a preachy, pretentious mess. I really wish I had not been born with the compulsion to follow movies out to their bitter end, because I would have loved to turn this off: by the end of the first hour, I was bored out of my mind; by 90 minutes, I was paying more attention to the timer on my DVD player than I was to the film; by two hours, I was just praying for quick and painless death. There are bad films, and then there are bad films. This fits comfortably into the latter category. Even in the realm of terrible films, though, you have to watch out for your blurbs. Maybe, as the case says, it is "better than both Matrix sequels put together." That still doesn't mean it's any good at all.
Duplicity (Tony Gilroy, 2009) 75
About a year and a half ago, Tony Gilroy -- in his then-directorial debut -- brought us a deliciously complex and twisty little thriller called Michael Clayton, which even in a bumper-crop year like 2007 was one of the best films around. If anything, his follow-up Duplicity ably demonstrates that the strengths of his previous effort were no fluke. This is, much like the Clooney vehicle, a structurally unusual but deadly intelligent film that is at once remarkably well written and possesses the power to keep its audience guessing up until the very end. We're still deeply enmeshed in the corporate world, although this time Gilroy treats the affair more like an extended Spy vs. Spy, thus making the goings-on even more playful and enjoyable. So yeah, clearly I liked the film a lot. I understand how the timeline and the barrage of plot twists/unexpected developments could become wearying for some, but I was able to adjust to Gilroy's speed without too much difficulty, and as a result I had a lot of fun. The interplay between his hero and heroine works really well, the central "secret" is just ludicrous enough to lend it some warped sense of credibility (an important aspect of the story, it turns out), and the pieces just seem to fit together into something both satisfying and clever. The year is young, so it's hard to tell how this will fare in the long run, but for right now one thing's for sure: in the typical spring doldrums, Duplicity is a welcome reprieve. That, and Clive Owen is infinitely more badass than George Clooney. Just sayin'.
Ghost World (Terry Zwigoff, 2001) 58
I did the appropriate backtracking. The one and only time I saw this, I was in 9th grade. So that's, like, 2003-2004 territory. Much has changed in the last five-to-six years. More, really, than my little freshman self could ever have comprehended. When I saw Ghost World then, I loved it; its bratty, anti-establishment snarkiness struck a note with the rebellious adolescent. Now, though, actually being in the post-high school position held by Enid and Rebecca, I found this kind of difficult to sit through. Its derisive sarcasm has, for the most part, ceased to be endearing; instead, its portrayal of directionlessness and alienation hits a little too close to home for me to be able to fully embrace it like I once did. Does this mean it's a bad film? No. It just means it's not a terribly pleasant one. Terry Zwigoff's world is uniformly pessimistic: despite the characters' efforts, nobody really wins, and malaise is more or less a constant in life. Maybe that's true, but in a film designed to make us laugh, it's not a message that goes down easily. Still, there are some good things: Steve Buscemi is always welcome in any film, and the presence of a pre-glamorized-to-death Scarlett Johansson occasionally makes the screen a little easier to look at. Maybe in another five-to-six years I'll be able to return to this and find greatness in it again. I certainly hope so. For right now, though, Chris The Ennui-Stricken College Student does not need to be reminded of these all-too-obvious aspects of his life.
Ichi the Killer (Takashi Miike, 2001) 67 [edited US version] / 72 [int'l version]
I'm still not entirely sure why I like this film so much. I mean, really. It's psychosexually perverse, graphically violent for no reason other than it can be, and lacking any especially strong storyline that might somehow justify the first two. By all accounts, I should not like it; in most cases, I wouldn't. But I do. A lot. So I return to my original assumption that Miike is somehow tapping into a subconscious, ideological impulse that -- by all accounts -- is probably better left alone. God knows, if I explored further, what I might find out about myself. And yet, as potentially objectionable as some of the film's content might be, I paradoxically find myself incensed that an edited version exists. The first time I saw this, I rented the original, uncut version; the second time, with friends, we picked up the "heavily cut" one. From memory, it seems to omit most of the really grotesque stuff (for instance, pouring boiling water on the guy who gets hung by the hooks) and even a couple fairly important nonviolent scenes. Not unexpectedly, the movie becomes noticeably inferior. Not by any significant amount or anything -- I mean, the gist is still there -- but even so, what's the point? In a movie that thrives on its nasty details, what purpose could it serve to cut anything out? It hardly becomes a squeaky-clean, family-friendly romp as a result. So just leave it alone. It was fine before. Too fine, actually. I'm still bothered by how fine it was. I'm going to go off and wrestle with this one some more. Or maybe watch something else to put it out of my mind. You talk amongst yourselves.
The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, 2006) 85
I don't actually have too much to say about this one at the moment; I think the film, still immensely topical in 2009 despite its subtle yet highly symbolic (and historically accurate) choice to set itself in 1984, can largely speak for itself. It's an emotionally complex but narratively straightforward account of the Stasi's iron-fisted rule over East Germany, although taken down to a personal level that makes it both absorbing and effective. Though Dreyman and his girlfriend are the ones being spied on, the film's real rewards come from Captain Wiesler, whose gradual transformation makes up the film's backbone and gives it its powerful emotional center. While some may argue that the sudden series of flash-fowards at the end is tiresome, I'd contend that the film finds just about the perfect bittersweet note to end on. Overall, it's a fine example of how a film can get by on character and story alone. Despite a conspicuous lack of car chases, explosions, and special effects, it nonetheless manages to be more captivating, suspenseful, and rewarding by far than most movies that would gladly rely on them. That, my friends, is significant.
Man Bites Dog (Remy Belvaux/Andre Bonzel/Benoit Poelvoorde, 1992) 60
Here is a perfect example of why a film should not feel it is necessary to conform to a certain length: at around 60 minutes, Man Bites Dog would have been a brilliant achievement; at around 90, it loses its film grip and begins to grow tiresome. The central idea is an ingenious one: filmed in black and white on handheld cameras, it's a mockumentary of a film crew following the perfect subject: a serial killer. He is charming, charismatic, funny, and also extremely dangerous. The film strikes a brilliant chord in its first act by juxtaposing calm, collected scenes of pitch-black gallows humor with acts of shocking violence. As the crew continues to follow him around, they find themselves becoming more and more involved in his ghastly crimes until they ultimately become his effective henchmen. Like I said, this works amazingly for about an hour: there's one tremendous scene after another (the suburban house sequence is particularly potent), and it feels like the film is winding up for a knockout punch. Unfortunately, the filmmakers don't have an especially strong sense of how to end this, and the film's last third becomes a series of dead-ends that almost threaten to undo the whole affair (are the hospital or jail scenes necessary at all?). Still, shooting yourself in the foot doesn't mean the bullet was always there, and one still walks away from Man Bites Dog with a handful of compelling material. While I do feel that Michael Haneke does the whole media/audience-desensitized-to-violence thing much more effectively with Funny Games, these guys have still come up with a compelling prototype. With a few kinks ironed out, I know I'd be in love with it; as it is, it gets some strong admiration without fully getting a vote of confidence. That's just the way of these things sometimes.
Mysterious Skin (Gregg Araki, 2004) 91
In a market saturated with formula vehicles and cookie-cutter retreads, I appreciate a film that is willing to take risks. Mysterious Skin is a film that takes a handful of really big ones and, for the most part, succeeds with every last one of them. It is an unflinching look at an extremely difficult subject; it does not candy-coat anything and it refuses to shy away from even the most troubling details (neither of which it should do; subtlety is not the way to handle this sort of material). And while unbelievably devastating, one cannot accuse it of being emotionally manipulative. It delivers its soul-shattering gut-punch not because the director has stacked the cards in favor of its incredibly powerful final scene, but because the story is so naturally trenchant and yet so honestly handled that it just ends up there. It earns that final scene. And if that isn't reason enough why this is a tremendous piece of work, here's another: Joseph Gordon-Levitt (still best known for "Third Rock from the Sun," despite having been in some really great films since then) gives a beyond-excellent performance as Neil, the film's protagonist. On the surface he comes across as nothing less than a heartless asshole, but Gordon-Levitt nails the nuances of the character so well that it's impossible to miss the deep-rooted suffering behind his hardened facade. It's wonderful work. But really, I want to shake hands with everyone involved in this. It's by no means an easy film, but it's a necessary and important one. It explores areas of the human condition that few would ever dare to touch. That it does so with such honesty and such overwhelming force makes it one of the finer cinematic achievements of recent years. (I suppose I do see the unfairness of simply describing it as "a film about child abuse," as I did with the movie night crowd, as it does go a hell of a lot deeper -- and darker -- than that. But my question to those folks would be, now that you've seen it, wouldn't you be disappointed if it hadn't? I know I would.)
Oldboy (Chan-Wook Park, 2005) 87
The first time I watched Oldboy was in context with the rest of Chan-Wook Park's "vengeance trilogy" (of which this is the finest entry by a long shot), which necessarily means that a lot of thematic and tonal similarities between the films were going to be taken for granted. A few weeks ago, upon rewatching this in isolation from its counterparts, it finally dawned on me just how grim this film truly is. In a viewing marathon filled to the brim with blood and revenge and mean-spirited violence, the impact of these sorts of things -- for better or for worse -- ends up going by the wayside. And while my first viewing of the film at the end of last semester certainly knocked the wind out of me, it was only this time that I was able to fully appreciate the twisted humanity it puts on display. And it's just twisted enough that I could easily imagine lots of people getting seriously turned off. But where the film might lose some people is exactly where I latch on. As with Mysterious Skin, I have a certain natural fondness for films that step outside of a well-defined comfort zone and tap into dark, almost unspeakable recesses of the human mind. The plot developments in Oldboy very quickly drift away from the expected "hard-edged badass" (of which there is plenty, of course, although most of it is in the film's first half) into much more unexpected, disturbing territory. But that's what makes this so special and keeps it from becoming "just another revenge flick" (that and the fact that it's a technical tour de force, but that's a topic for another day). The motivation, no matter how sick and depraved, has an unnerving verisimilitude; sometimes, in the real world, having a villian who's just a crazy, fucked-up son of a bitch is adequate enough for this kind of shit to go down. It's a trying film, to be sure, but never at the expense of entertainment or pathos. It takes you to dark places and shows you unpleasant things, but it's not so unkind as to deny you payback for your emotional investment. Again: this is excellent.
Party 7 (Katsuhito Ishii, 2000) 21
More fool me for thinking Casshern was going to be the worst film in this entry. Somehow, against all laws of nature and dictates of good taste, Party 7 manages the trick of not only being worse, but being significantly so. Things like this are to blame for Japanese culture unfairly getting stereotyped as a cracked-out hodgepodge of absurdist nonsense. Party 7 tries so hard to be quirky and unusual and goofy and funny and unique that it just ends up downright painful. I honestly can't think of another word for it. Usually I can adjust my inner tempo to self-conscious weirdness, no matter how forced, but this just gives me nothing whatsoever to grab onto. It's really more like two entirely separate films haphazardly glued together: the first is a dull "I stole money and I'm running away from gangsters" story with lifeless characters and no development; the second is one of the most appallingly weird things I have ever seen onscreen, and no, I do not mean that as a compliment (an aging peeping tom named Captain Banana, whose attire is a spacesuit and frog helmet, tries to get a twentysomething boy to put on a yellow jumpsuit in order to embrace his "inner peep" or some shit). These two continue alongside each other with no particular rhyme, reason, or sense of pacing, until the pointlessly over-the-top denouement inevitably brings them together and accomplishes nothing whatsoever. Surprised? Yeah, I wasn't either. Really, if I hadn't rented the damn thing, I probably would've burned it or something. But they'd fine me for that, and it wouldn't be worth it. I just want this movie out of my life forever. I'll start by finishing this review.
Scotland, Pa. (Billy Morrissette, 2001) 69
How's this for a hook: "1970s fast-food version of Macbeth with Christopher Walken as a vegetarian Macduff." If you're anything like me, this will have not only immediately migrated to the top of your must-see list, but you'll actually already be halfway to the video store (or Netflix queue, as the case may be). The good news is that it delivers on that promise, at least insofar as its conceit will allow. In the grand scheme of Macbeth adaptations, I'd say this is somewhere in between Kurosawa's Throne of Blood (a classic, of course) and that post-apocalyptic Mad Max-style version my 10th grade English teacher showed us (which is incredibly bizarre and I still have no idea where she found it, because I can't). Morrissette manages something that, truthfully, has been tried a bazillion times and many fail at: being decently faithful to the Bard while still putting a clever, entertaining spin on one of his stories. By all accounts, Scotland, Pa. could have gone off the rails at any time; it never does, though, and as a result it becomes something of a small delight to watch. It's dryly funny in the only way that's appropriate for this sort of thing, and of course Christopher Walken is always fun to watch ("You've really done a lot with the place. Of course, the last time I was here there was a dead body in the fryilator!" has just entered the Movie Quote Hall of Fame). Familiarity with Shakespeare's play isn't necessary, of course, but I imagine it's somewhat more fun if you are. Nonetheless, I find it hard to believe most people wouldn't be greatly entertained by this. It's a hoot.
Sukiyaki Western Django (Takashi Miike, 2007) 68
I must admit, half the fun of seeing this again was being with people who had not watched it yet. Let's face it: this is really the sort of movie you watch once, are amused by, and then move on with your life. There's nothing deep here, no hidden details or worldly food for thought that would require multiple viewings. It's supposed to be a self-conscious, ridiculous, wildly over-the top homage to everything, an endeavor it more or less succeeds at. But seeing it with people who don't quite know what to expect is a treat in and of itself: Sukiyaki Western Django is a movie that is so patently absurd that literally anything can happen at any moment, and gauging reactions can sometimes be as much fun as the lunacy that's transpiring onscreen. Does it hold up as a film? Yeah, sure. Like I said before, it does what it sets out to do. If you're making up your own rules it's hard to break any of them, and if one thing can be said about the film, it's that there's nothing else quite like it in the world. Maybe it's not an especially great film, but it's a fun one that I'd really have no trouble recommending. That alone puts it way ahead of a lot of other films, and those don't even have a heavily made-up Quentin Tarantino in a steam-powered wheelchair.
Versus (Ryûhei Kitamura, 2000) 59
I don't think words can accurately describe how ridiculous this film is. Is there anything this film doesn't have? It's a gun-wielding gangster samurai zombie movie set in a supernatural forest with immortals and reincarnated souls. Or something. Not that it matters. As fun as all this craziness is, though, the one thing I can't quite forgive it for is the small little flaw of making absolutely no goddamn sense whatsoever. I realize this isn't really the point, and that you're just supposed to watch it so you can see crazy shit happen and awesome fights and so forth, but think about how much better it would be if it had a story! It'd really be something! Oh well. I guess you can't have everything, and what the film does give is suitably badass if one is in the mood for this sort of thing. I can't deny that I was alternately amused and entertained for the film's entire duration (+20 WTF points for the scene where the crazy-haired guy just randomly hovers down from the sky), but at the end it still felt like there should have been more. Not that I wouldn't still recommend it to people. I probably would. It's that sort of thing. Hell, I'd even see it again. It's just ... what the fuck, just go watch it.
Waltz With Bashir (Ari Folman, 2008) 53
In general, if I dislike a film I'm inclined to lay the blame on the filmmaker a long time before I even think of indicting myself (and I'm sure 99.9% of all moviegoers share this sentiment). Waltz With Bashir is an interesting film in many ways, not the least of which is that it turns my previous statement upon itself. No, I did not like it, but for once I feel like I'm the responsible party and that the good-intentioned Ari Folman really had nothing to do with it. I think my lukewarm reaction stems from my inability to form any sort of emotional attachment to what was happening onscreen. War is never easy and maybe I've just become desensitized to it, because the images here are undeniably potent without ever actually striking a chord or plucking a heartstring. They're just ... there. I feel like I should be profoundly moved by the film's final few minutes, which jarringly switch away from a gorgeous dreamlike animation very reminiscent of Linklater's Waking Life and A Scanner Darkly to present live-action images of crying women wandering the streets of a crumbling city, but I just wasn't. Instead of seeming like a poignant concluding note, it felt anticlimactic. We never got to the bottom of Folman's eerie dream sequence, nor did we ever have a chance to warm up to any of the individuals he interviewed for his quasi-documentary. But am I missing the boat in expecting these things? Did I just not go into the film in the right mindset? I don't know. I wish I did, because it feels like it could be a really great film. Instead, I can't really regard it as anything more than an underdeveloped, if visually stunning and incredibly humanistic, curiosity.
Watchmen (Zack Snyder, 2009) FV: 64 / SV: 70
I think I may be just about the only teenage/college-age male in the known universe who did not enjoy Zack Snyder's previous effort, the dull and pointless CGI splatterfest 300; likewise, I have a special distate for both the Wachowski brothers' grim and misguided take on V for Vendetta (another unpopular stance, I gather) and the ludicriously awful Sean Connery vehicle The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (which I pray to god everyone hates). With both an unsureness of Snyder and a past history of seriously not-good Alan Moore adaptations, I naturally approached the film version of "graphic novel to beat all graphic novels" Watchmen with some trepidation. Imagine my relief when, after having watched it, it dawned on me that it not only didn't suck, but it was actually pretty okay. I wasn't head-over-heels in love with it, but that was all right. Contented, I spent a couple weeks being sure that "pretty okay" was more or less going to be my final verdict. As it turns out, much to my increased delight, this was not the case: a trip to Denver brought about a viewing in IMAX, and suddenly the film leaped from "pretty okay" to "quite good" (bigger is unquestionably better in a film that relies so heavily on visuals). I stand convinced now that a third viewing might even push the score higher. I'm still not gushingly in love with it (as many are), nor do I ever think I will be, but I can certainly accept that Snyder has taken on an unenviably difficult task and actually done pretty well by it. Only time will tell if this will go down as the "great art" some have proclaimed it to be (I'd certainly argue that it isn't), but for the time being it's an enjoyable popcorn flick. I'm happy with that. I mean, aren't you?
Whew. All right. I think that should do it for a few weeks, at least. 'Til then!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
25 Cents of Music: 2009's First Quarter
As an incurable music junkie, it pains me somewhat that this self-described "geeky media blog" has gone for such a long time without any direct musical discussion. Not that there's anything wrong whatsoever with movies (in fact, I'm going to go watch one after I post this), but sometimes it's good to be diplomatic and give some face time to other interested parties. It makes me feel more well-rounded in my rabid obsessions. (Just wait until summer when I have actual free time; I'll even be writing about books. I swear. I have an epic summer reading list. But I digress.)
So I decided to do something of an overview of 2009 so far. It's a quarter gone, believe it or not, and this saddens me because it's already aptly proven itself a hell of a lot better than 2008. In terms of everything. I don't want to jinx myself and have the next nine months be terrible, of course, but so far it's been quite good. The music scene in particular seems to have awoken from its yearlong siesta (after the party that was 2007, I'd be exhausted too; so it's understandable why it had to take a year off, but it's also nice that it's showing some initiative again). There's been great stuff from old favorites, great stuff from newbies and heretofore undiscovered bands, and the ever-lingering promise of more great stuff in the not-too-distant future from both aforementioned parties. It's been good.
Let's break this down.
I Find These Songs Especially Awesome:
These are the standouts among standouts thus far. As the year goes on, the list will undoubtedly grow. As it stands, it's a formidable start. My absolute favorite, which can always change at a moment's notice, is italicized.
Animal Collective, "My Girls"
Apoptygma Berzerk, "Asleep or Awake?"
Franz Ferdinand, "No You Girls"
Harlem Shakes, "Strictly Game"
The Juan MacLean, "The Simple Life"
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, "Young Adult Friction"
Pure Reason Revolution, "Deus Ex Machina"
Silversun Pickups, "Panic Switch"
Telefon Tel Aviv, "The Birds"
White Lies, "Death"
Specific Comments About Stuff:
Now with more specificity.
That's it. Hell has frozen over. The most irritating, overrated band in all of indie-rock has made an album I legitimately enjoy. But seriously, it's good stuff. I mean, is anyone really going to argue that "My Girls" is far and away the best track Animal Collective has ever produced? It's a hard song to dislike, and the good news is that if you like it the rest of the album basically sounds the same. It's sort of an amalgamation of the what-the-fuck nature-noisemaking of their early albums and the what-the-fuck "pop" songcraft of Strawberry Jam. The result mysteriously manages to factor out most of the "what the fuck" and leave us fortunate souls with a dreamy, unique, and mostly enjoyable electronic "mood" album. Which isn't to say I'm apeshit about it. It's still irritating and overrated (with all due disrespect to Pitchfork, that 9.6 is beyond fucking insane), but it's also pretty okay. To be honest, it's still not the kind of thing I can see myself listening to that often, but I do like it. And for these guys, that's a hell of a step forward.
I don't have anything interesting to say about Antony and the Johnsons, and neither does anyone else.
Apoptygma Berzerk is no longer the pulsing EBM/industrial/future-pop band I fell in love with back in high school. 2005's still very good You and Me Against the World openly suggested that they were headed in a more electro-rock direction, and now Rocket Science -- which comes across largely as an undercooked medley of You and Me leftovers -- confirms it. I guess I have a huge reserve of goodwill for these guys, though, because I'd still rather listen to this than a lot of other stuff. And Groth is still a talented songwriter: occasionally, something awesome like "Asleep or Awake?" slips in and really rocks out. Nothing matches the heights of, say, "In This Together" (one of their best songs, regardless of genre) or "Love to Blame," but it's not terrible or anything.
Burning Hearts do cutesy, female-voiced Scandinavian twee pop. It either works for you or it doesn't. It works for me.
I am convinced The Decemberists can do no wrong. Of course, I've been convinced of this since 2005, but their continuance of not doing any wrong really strengthens my argument. Their latest, the ultra-geeky The Hazards of Love, is immensely satisfying because (A) it's not like anything they've done before; (B) it's one the most ambitious and even slightly risky albums by anyone in some time (they are on a major label, remember, and this is uncommercial to the extent that it's nearly impossible to even separate the individual tracks from one another); and (C) it rocks really hard. Emphasis on (C). Even in a very musically generous year, this will be a highlight. Not that I ever expected anything else.
The chilling debut from Fever Ray amply proves which half of The Knife was primarily responsible for Silent Shout's indelible creepiness. In other words, yeah, it's good stuff.
Despite what the world at large might think, Franz Ferdinand haven't lost it. Just listen to "Ulysses" and tell me you don't get even a slight adrenaline rush when that synth storms on at about 0:40. Really?
Grizzly Bear, on their most recent "how the hell did this leak already?" Veckatimest, continue their trend of being mind-alteringly beautiful without actually being all that interesting.
The second half of Handsome Furs' Face Control is much better than the first. Either half of Plague Park is better than the second half of Face Control. Let's just hurry up and get another Wolf Parade album out, shall we?
By all accounts, it seems like Harlem Shakes are poised to inherit Tokyo Police Club's underappreciated-indie-punk torch from last year. Despite an even more irritating vocalist, I still like 'em.
I have a horrible feeling that The Juan MacLean's sophomore album The Future Will Come is going to be ignored simply because it's not LCD Soundsystem. Truth is, it's a very strong (and very fun) album that's probably the best example of pure "indie dance" in some time. The lengthy opening and closing tracks ("The Simple Life" and "Happy House") are well worth the price of admission alone, but some of the shorter tracks like "The Station" and "A New Bot" are also great.
I still find Junior Boys boring as hell. Someone needs to tell these guys to lay off the quaaludes or something, I swear, 'cause their approach to synth-pop/dance music (a necessarily upbeat style) has all the zealousness of a coma patient. 2006's "In the Morning" remains their only genuinely interesting song because, oh my god, it actually has a pulse.
Barracuda by Mexican synth-pop band Kinky is by a Mexican synth-pop band called Kinky and is entitled Barracuda. This is all you really need to know.
Apparently Late of the Pier's fun, highly enjoyable debut Fantasy Black Channel didn't actually get released in the U.S. until 2009, which just gives me another chance to go on about what a spiffy, clitoris-stimulating song "Broken" is.
Matt & Kim's Grand is pretty grand. My history with it goes something like this: I listened to it a couple times and found I liked it all right. Then I saw them live. Then I listened to it a couple more times and found I liked it quite a bit more than all right. Something about holding a musician's shoe can do that to you.
Metric's Fantasies is so much better than I thought it would be that I actually feel like I need to go back and listen to it some more before I can pass proper judgment. It's the least I can do for Emily Haines, who actually probably would've earned it based on that really awesome lake picture alone.
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart's self-titled has one of the best songs of 2009 thus far in "Young Adult Friction," and is largely devoid of interest for its remainder. A shame, 'cause that song is really good.
The Prodigy shouldn't have quit their day job (smacking their bitches up), because this new stuff isn't all that great. It's decent, I suppose, but The Fat of the Land was so much more than decent that it's hard not to feel a bit let down.
Pure Reason Revolution's Amor Vincit Omnia is an elegant 45-minute amalgamation of, like, every musical style I have ever been into. For this reason, it's going to be very hard to keep this one off my favorites for '09. The way they mesh prog-metal and industrial on song-of-the-year candidate "Deus Ex Machina" is incredible, and the last two minutes of "AVO" are so perfect that they make me feel like all the best parts of my life are just beginning.
Neither shoegaze nor Smashing Pumpkins is really "my thing" at all, so I find it intriguing that Silversun Pickups are fast becoming one of my big favorite bands. I discovered only last September that their debut Carnavas is really one hell of an album, and that "Future Foe Scenarios" is one of the best damn songs ever written (though, contrary to popular opinion, I find "Lazy Eye" to be one of their weaker songs). Their new single "Panic Switch" is so good that I expect their follow-up Swoon to be nothing less than one of the best albums of the year.
I am as head over heels in love with Spencer Krug as any man healthily ought to be, but Swan Lake just doesn't do it for me. Sorry. It's a two-album condition now, so I'm starting to doubt the "it's a fluke" assumption I've been leaning on since 2006.
If "The Birds" by Telefon Tel Aviv doesn't end up as the most beautiful song of 2009, I have a treat in store for me somewhere down the road. There's always something eerie about a musician dying before an album even gets released, and that eeriness hangs over Immolate Yourself in sheets. It's a sold album, though, and moody as hell, so I suppose it's a good swan song. More than anything, though, I would've liked to hear another one. In the words of Kurt Vonnegut: "So it goes."
White Lies sounds like Editors sounds like Interpol sounds like Joy Division, etc. etc. And you know what? I still find the style compelling. It's an uneven album, sure, but it's quite listenable.
Mmkay. That's it for right now. I feel like I've taken up enough of your time already. Wouldn't you agree?
Yeah. Thought so.
So I decided to do something of an overview of 2009 so far. It's a quarter gone, believe it or not, and this saddens me because it's already aptly proven itself a hell of a lot better than 2008. In terms of everything. I don't want to jinx myself and have the next nine months be terrible, of course, but so far it's been quite good. The music scene in particular seems to have awoken from its yearlong siesta (after the party that was 2007, I'd be exhausted too; so it's understandable why it had to take a year off, but it's also nice that it's showing some initiative again). There's been great stuff from old favorites, great stuff from newbies and heretofore undiscovered bands, and the ever-lingering promise of more great stuff in the not-too-distant future from both aforementioned parties. It's been good.
Let's break this down.
I Find These Songs Especially Awesome:
These are the standouts among standouts thus far. As the year goes on, the list will undoubtedly grow. As it stands, it's a formidable start. My absolute favorite, which can always change at a moment's notice, is italicized.
Animal Collective, "My Girls"
Apoptygma Berzerk, "Asleep or Awake?"
Franz Ferdinand, "No You Girls"
Harlem Shakes, "Strictly Game"
The Juan MacLean, "The Simple Life"
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, "Young Adult Friction"
Pure Reason Revolution, "Deus Ex Machina"
Silversun Pickups, "Panic Switch"
Telefon Tel Aviv, "The Birds"
White Lies, "Death"
Specific Comments About Stuff:
Now with more specificity.
Mmkay. That's it for right now. I feel like I've taken up enough of your time already. Wouldn't you agree?
Yeah. Thought so.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Movie Roundup: 3/1/09
I'm back. Sooner than I thought I would be, actually. Getting sick really helps with movie-watching, as it turns out. The weekend I was ailing I quarantined myself at my house, curled up, and -- not feeling much like doing anything else (other than sleeping intermittently) -- watched a bunch of crap. It was quite fulfilling. And then, of course, there's the typical array of Movie Night fare and theatrical viewings and all that good stuff. Not as many ridiculously high ratings this time (this is a more standard distribution, I'd say), but still some really good stuff. Lezzgo.
Burn After Reading (The Coen Brothers, 2008) 73
Maybe the funniest thing about the Coen Brothers' uniformly hilarious Burn After Reading is how much of a flip-off it is to the world of "serious cinema." After cleaning the floor at the Oscars with No Country for Old Men (which may very well be their best film; it's been a while since I've watched Fargo, the current holder of that title, so I couldn't say for sure), I'm sure everyone expected them to try to one-up themselves with another serious Statement about the human condition in contemporary America. Instead, they gave us this delightfully irreverent political farce that, while obviously not up to the jaw-dropping standards of their best work, is just about as entertaining as one could hope for. The Coens have a knack for creating immensely memorable characters: from The Dude to Carl Showalter to Anton Chigurh, almost every one of their films seems to possess at least one singularly striking individual. Here, the terminally underrated Brad Pitt steals every scene he's in as uber-doofus Chad Feldheimer. It's the rare performance that, no doubt, is as much fun for the audience to watch as it was for the actor to embody. But to be honest, everyone looks like they're having a good time here. I think they realize that this film was never meant to change the world or even really "say" anything (other than the government is incompetent -- gee, what else is new?). It's just meant to be a fun, lighthearted trifle for the Coens as they gear up for another home run. I have no clue how long it'll be until that film hits us, but until then I'm pretty sure Burn After Reading will suit me just fine.
Coraline (Henry Selick, 2009) 39
An aggressively unpleasant film. Despite tirelessly searching for its entire runtime, there's just no fun in this thing for me. It's dark, oppressive, and off-putting (especially for a younger audience), but to what end? If you're going to have your main character endure such an ordeal, shouldn't she get something out of it? The film provides no evidence that little Coraline's life is going to be any different after this whole to-do than it was before. Her asshole, "you broke my favorite snowglobe" parents certainly haven't changed. So what could have, and should have, been a film about familial love and redemption and Wizard of Oz-style "there's no place like home"-ness inadvertently becomes a film about a neglected child who learns to appreciate that she's a neglected child. A lovely message, especially for the kiddos. Now in lifelike 3D, so they can almost touch the bitter reality! Despite being a harsh and unrewarding film, though, it's certainly a good-looking one: Selick's trademark stop-motion is as eerily effective as ever, and the aforementioned 3D -- to the extent that I even noticed it (it was much more subtle than a lot of other big-screen 3D fare) -- was well integrated, if inessential. But really, that's not going to win me over. Coraline is a dreary experience. Big-screen escapism is dependent on there being something worthwhile to escape to. If an ugly, dissatisfying story wherein the only compassionate character is a mangy, dead-looking alley cat is your idea of solid entertainment, be my guest. I should have stayed home. There's no place quite like it.
Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008) 81
It's something of a miracle that this film even exists. The vampire genre is so old, so worn out, and so cliched that I thought I never wanted to see another. But here's a film that effortlessly makes the vampire yarn seem fresh, exciting, and wonderful again. I honestly did not think it could be done. I think its biggest asset is its restraint: by not going for the throat (yes, pun intended) like many other films would, the story is allowed to unfold on its own terms and slowly and methodically engulf its viewers. And it's a story that works impressively well on a variety of levels: it's at once a movie about the pains of adolescence, a fledgling romance, and of course a girl-next-door with a dark and gory secret. How the film winds all of these elements up into a single package is delightful, and the directions it chooses to go in are as unexpected as they are satisfying. This is a dark film, yes, and creepy, but it's also surprisingly touching, sweet, and involving. I cared greatly about Oskar and Eli and hoped constantly that the film would lead them to a resolution both true to its tone and worthy of everything that had come before. It does, and watching them get there is one of the most pleasurable first-time viewings I've had in quite some time. I gather that the DVD will be released on March 10. I'll be there when it comes out.
Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003) 92
Truly beautiful. I've never seen it so much as a relationship drama as I have a film about the life-affirming power of friendship in the face of loneliness and alienation. Because seriously, who cares if they slept with each other? Maybe they did, maybe they didn't; to dwell on the idea is to miss the true beauty of their relationship. Here are two people who manage against all odds to form a bond more powerful than most people will ever know. The ephemeral nature of their encounter is what makes the film so delightful and, at the same time, so sad: we know as well as they do that their friendship is confined to that hotel. They'll never see each other again. But the time they spend together is so genuine, so real, that it puts the vast majority of bored human interaction to shame. By all accounts, Bill Murray should've won an Oscar for this (damn you, Sean Penn -- Mystic River wasn't very good anyway). It's both his finest work ever and the best film he's ever been associated with. So few movies manage to be as mature, thoughtful, and full of insight as this one. While it does seem to become more wistful with each passing year, it also gets better every time I watch it.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2008) <(^.^<)
For which I respectfully suspend my own rating system in favor of the Kirby Dance. I feel vaguely unclean for having watched this again, but -- as I mentioned the first time -- I hardly feel guilty about it, and would indeed watch it a third time if given a particularly good (or even a particularly bad) reason to. I hate this film with such a passion that I might very well be in love with it, a difficult phenomenon to describe unless you have, in fact, seen the film for yourself. I don't really have too much to add to my original commentary, except (1) this is not something that should ever be watched without people around; (2) in a perfect world, "Drug Market" would be a Top 40 hit and played on FM radio every five minutes. Aside from that, my original review still stands. ... and have I mentioned that if you haven't seen this you really need to?
Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (David Mirkin, 1997) 65
Believe it or not, I actually got this for my dad for Christmas, but had never actually watched it myself. Well, the weekend I was sick I figured, "What the hell?" and curled up and gave it a looksie. To my surprise (and perhaps chagrin), I enjoyed it quite a bit. I suppose general classification would call this a "chick flick," but not in the abject, toe-curling way that would apply to a dumb rom-com or some weepy loved-and-lost relationship drama. Instead, Romy and Michele -- unlike its two terminal airhead heroines -- is actually pretty intelligent, and there are plenty of solid laughs to be had along the way. The premise? Romy and Michele, two incurable ditzes, learn that their 10-year high school reunion is in two weeks and decide to "better" themselves in order to look prosperous and successful (including a hilarious, half-baked plan to lie to former classmates about having invented Post-It notes in the intervening years). It's predictable and formulaic, sure, but it's a lot of fun. Although the necessarily-happy conclusion does require you to suspend a somewhat uncomfortable amount of disbelief, the preceding 80 minutes or so are entertaining, well-written, and have some delightfully pointed and accurate things to say both about high school and about the ingenuine, phony nature of these so-called "reunions." And I enjoyed it for that. I know I'm not its target audience, but that just goes to show that some of these for-the-ladies movies really can satisfy just about everyone looking to have a good time, even the male counterparts. I mean, my dad and I both like it. That's gotta say something.
The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980) 77
Tons and tons of goodwill and high regard over the past few years have made this into something of a classic, and while I do have to agree that it's an impressively strong film, I also have a few reservations. Certainly, to call it Kubrick's best (as many have done) is to do a horrendous injustice to his 1964-1971 holy trinity, and perhaps some of his lesser-known films as well. Let's face it: as a haunted house/ghost story, the film is almost a complete failure; there are elements of it sprinked throughout, but they're too half-baked and sporadic to seem consequential at all. Aided by Jack Nicholson's iconic but nonetheless over-the-top performance, though, where the film really excels is in its depiction of madness. It's eerie, claustrophobic, and chilling. Almost all of the credit for this, really, goes to Kubrick. The Shining has a weak script. Sorry, but it does. The direction, however, is among the most flawless in history. Kubrick was a notorious perfectionist and he'd re-shoot scenes ad nauseum until he got exactly what he wanted. This film was in production for almost a year and a half and, I believe, used more miles of film stock than any other movie ever made. It shows, and it's kind of brilliant. The film is sparkling, pristine, and technically flawless. (Really, don't ever debate the talent of Stanley Kubrick with me. You may not like the films, but it's impossible to deny the man was a genius -- one of the best -- at what he did.) So, despite its weaknesses, The Shining is a compulsively watchable movie. It's just so damn well made that I have to admire it. Sure, Kubrick made better films, but none of them strike me as being as quintessentially a "director showcase" as this one. That, far more than the story itself, makes it a must-see.
Tetsuo: The Iron Man (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1989) 45
I suppose calling this the Japanese Eraserhead wouldn't be too far off the mark. While there is some semblance of a coherent narrative, it really plays second-banana to the fact that the director just wants to fuck you up bad. But David Lynch is an extremely skilled director, and he's capable of making brilliant films from elements that would be insufferable in anyone else's hands. So whereas Eraserhead is fucked up and weird and disturbing, it clicks with me. It works. Tetsuo, on the other hand, never rises above just being a series of surreal, hyperkinetic grotesqueries. Technically, the film is brilliant: the editing is virtuoso, to say the least. But the thing is, you get it rather quickly. I'd say that by the 30-minute mark at the very latest, you've seen what there is to see. Even though the film itself is a very brief 63 minutes, it still feels like it just goes on and on and on. There's no doubt Shinya Tsukamoto made the film he wanted to make (the ultra-stylish final product glistens with a sort of rough-edged, demented perfectionism), and the film does have its avid cult followers, but I can't really count myself among them. I am glad I saw it. It satisfied my curiosities. But it's not the sort of thing I think I'd ever need to return to.
Time (Kim Ki-Duk, 2006) 76
A haunting and poignant film from South Korea, which -- at least in terms of what gets international distribution -- seems to be a powerhouse for haunting and poignant films. Upon further consideration and the inevitable second viewing, I may even raise that 76, because there are a lot of intriguing ideas here that are handled very, very well. The general idea runs thusly: a jealous woman, afraid her boyfriend may be getting bored and tired of her, has plastic surgery to completely alter her facial appearance. Then, as the "new" woman, she begins a relationship with the same boyfriend, who of course does not realize that she is the same woman. The film refuses to shy away from the difficult ethical and emotional ramifications of this, and the result is both unsettling and provocative. Ki-Duk (whose, well, haunting and poignant 2004 film 3-Iron is also well worth seeing) is, if anything, a master of subtlety: he plays the whole affair very low-key, develops his two main characters enough to make them utterly believable, and then places them smack-dab in the middle of a moral puzzle that, by nature, has no easy answer. It's not light entertainment, to be sure, but it's the sort of thing that crawls under your skin and refuses to let go. For that alone I admire it, but it also has something even deeper to say about love and human attraction, and the way it says these things makes it something of a triumph. It's definitely worth tracking down; I know I want to see it again very soon.
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) 74
The one thing I don't understand about this film (or more specifically, I suppose, about the Irvine Welsh novel it's based on -- which I do own a copy of and I will read whenever I get a chance, i.e. summer) is what the hell the title means. Is it slang? Is there some implicit, symbolic meaning? Is it just a pleasant alternative to Junkies Gone Wild? If I ever meet Mr. Welsh, I'll have to ask him. Also, I didn't realize until this viewing that Welsh actually has a cameo, playing the dealer who gives Renton the suppositories at the beginning. But these are just details. The big picture remains the same: this is still a good, solid, entertaining movie. It's not a great one (if you want one of those, I urge you look no further than Boyle's recent Oscar winner), but for what it is I say it does quite well. You could definitely find much worse ways to spend an hour and a half.
Chris Vardeman will return. Not necessarily stirred, but at the very least, constantly shaken.
Burn After Reading (The Coen Brothers, 2008) 73
Maybe the funniest thing about the Coen Brothers' uniformly hilarious Burn After Reading is how much of a flip-off it is to the world of "serious cinema." After cleaning the floor at the Oscars with No Country for Old Men (which may very well be their best film; it's been a while since I've watched Fargo, the current holder of that title, so I couldn't say for sure), I'm sure everyone expected them to try to one-up themselves with another serious Statement about the human condition in contemporary America. Instead, they gave us this delightfully irreverent political farce that, while obviously not up to the jaw-dropping standards of their best work, is just about as entertaining as one could hope for. The Coens have a knack for creating immensely memorable characters: from The Dude to Carl Showalter to Anton Chigurh, almost every one of their films seems to possess at least one singularly striking individual. Here, the terminally underrated Brad Pitt steals every scene he's in as uber-doofus Chad Feldheimer. It's the rare performance that, no doubt, is as much fun for the audience to watch as it was for the actor to embody. But to be honest, everyone looks like they're having a good time here. I think they realize that this film was never meant to change the world or even really "say" anything (other than the government is incompetent -- gee, what else is new?). It's just meant to be a fun, lighthearted trifle for the Coens as they gear up for another home run. I have no clue how long it'll be until that film hits us, but until then I'm pretty sure Burn After Reading will suit me just fine.
Coraline (Henry Selick, 2009) 39
An aggressively unpleasant film. Despite tirelessly searching for its entire runtime, there's just no fun in this thing for me. It's dark, oppressive, and off-putting (especially for a younger audience), but to what end? If you're going to have your main character endure such an ordeal, shouldn't she get something out of it? The film provides no evidence that little Coraline's life is going to be any different after this whole to-do than it was before. Her asshole, "you broke my favorite snowglobe" parents certainly haven't changed. So what could have, and should have, been a film about familial love and redemption and Wizard of Oz-style "there's no place like home"-ness inadvertently becomes a film about a neglected child who learns to appreciate that she's a neglected child. A lovely message, especially for the kiddos. Now in lifelike 3D, so they can almost touch the bitter reality! Despite being a harsh and unrewarding film, though, it's certainly a good-looking one: Selick's trademark stop-motion is as eerily effective as ever, and the aforementioned 3D -- to the extent that I even noticed it (it was much more subtle than a lot of other big-screen 3D fare) -- was well integrated, if inessential. But really, that's not going to win me over. Coraline is a dreary experience. Big-screen escapism is dependent on there being something worthwhile to escape to. If an ugly, dissatisfying story wherein the only compassionate character is a mangy, dead-looking alley cat is your idea of solid entertainment, be my guest. I should have stayed home. There's no place quite like it.
Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008) 81
It's something of a miracle that this film even exists. The vampire genre is so old, so worn out, and so cliched that I thought I never wanted to see another. But here's a film that effortlessly makes the vampire yarn seem fresh, exciting, and wonderful again. I honestly did not think it could be done. I think its biggest asset is its restraint: by not going for the throat (yes, pun intended) like many other films would, the story is allowed to unfold on its own terms and slowly and methodically engulf its viewers. And it's a story that works impressively well on a variety of levels: it's at once a movie about the pains of adolescence, a fledgling romance, and of course a girl-next-door with a dark and gory secret. How the film winds all of these elements up into a single package is delightful, and the directions it chooses to go in are as unexpected as they are satisfying. This is a dark film, yes, and creepy, but it's also surprisingly touching, sweet, and involving. I cared greatly about Oskar and Eli and hoped constantly that the film would lead them to a resolution both true to its tone and worthy of everything that had come before. It does, and watching them get there is one of the most pleasurable first-time viewings I've had in quite some time. I gather that the DVD will be released on March 10. I'll be there when it comes out.
Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003) 92
Truly beautiful. I've never seen it so much as a relationship drama as I have a film about the life-affirming power of friendship in the face of loneliness and alienation. Because seriously, who cares if they slept with each other? Maybe they did, maybe they didn't; to dwell on the idea is to miss the true beauty of their relationship. Here are two people who manage against all odds to form a bond more powerful than most people will ever know. The ephemeral nature of their encounter is what makes the film so delightful and, at the same time, so sad: we know as well as they do that their friendship is confined to that hotel. They'll never see each other again. But the time they spend together is so genuine, so real, that it puts the vast majority of bored human interaction to shame. By all accounts, Bill Murray should've won an Oscar for this (damn you, Sean Penn -- Mystic River wasn't very good anyway). It's both his finest work ever and the best film he's ever been associated with. So few movies manage to be as mature, thoughtful, and full of insight as this one. While it does seem to become more wistful with each passing year, it also gets better every time I watch it.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2008) <(^.^<)
For which I respectfully suspend my own rating system in favor of the Kirby Dance. I feel vaguely unclean for having watched this again, but -- as I mentioned the first time -- I hardly feel guilty about it, and would indeed watch it a third time if given a particularly good (or even a particularly bad) reason to. I hate this film with such a passion that I might very well be in love with it, a difficult phenomenon to describe unless you have, in fact, seen the film for yourself. I don't really have too much to add to my original commentary, except (1) this is not something that should ever be watched without people around; (2) in a perfect world, "Drug Market" would be a Top 40 hit and played on FM radio every five minutes. Aside from that, my original review still stands. ... and have I mentioned that if you haven't seen this you really need to?
Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (David Mirkin, 1997) 65
Believe it or not, I actually got this for my dad for Christmas, but had never actually watched it myself. Well, the weekend I was sick I figured, "What the hell?" and curled up and gave it a looksie. To my surprise (and perhaps chagrin), I enjoyed it quite a bit. I suppose general classification would call this a "chick flick," but not in the abject, toe-curling way that would apply to a dumb rom-com or some weepy loved-and-lost relationship drama. Instead, Romy and Michele -- unlike its two terminal airhead heroines -- is actually pretty intelligent, and there are plenty of solid laughs to be had along the way. The premise? Romy and Michele, two incurable ditzes, learn that their 10-year high school reunion is in two weeks and decide to "better" themselves in order to look prosperous and successful (including a hilarious, half-baked plan to lie to former classmates about having invented Post-It notes in the intervening years). It's predictable and formulaic, sure, but it's a lot of fun. Although the necessarily-happy conclusion does require you to suspend a somewhat uncomfortable amount of disbelief, the preceding 80 minutes or so are entertaining, well-written, and have some delightfully pointed and accurate things to say both about high school and about the ingenuine, phony nature of these so-called "reunions." And I enjoyed it for that. I know I'm not its target audience, but that just goes to show that some of these for-the-ladies movies really can satisfy just about everyone looking to have a good time, even the male counterparts. I mean, my dad and I both like it. That's gotta say something.
The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980) 77
Tons and tons of goodwill and high regard over the past few years have made this into something of a classic, and while I do have to agree that it's an impressively strong film, I also have a few reservations. Certainly, to call it Kubrick's best (as many have done) is to do a horrendous injustice to his 1964-1971 holy trinity, and perhaps some of his lesser-known films as well. Let's face it: as a haunted house/ghost story, the film is almost a complete failure; there are elements of it sprinked throughout, but they're too half-baked and sporadic to seem consequential at all. Aided by Jack Nicholson's iconic but nonetheless over-the-top performance, though, where the film really excels is in its depiction of madness. It's eerie, claustrophobic, and chilling. Almost all of the credit for this, really, goes to Kubrick. The Shining has a weak script. Sorry, but it does. The direction, however, is among the most flawless in history. Kubrick was a notorious perfectionist and he'd re-shoot scenes ad nauseum until he got exactly what he wanted. This film was in production for almost a year and a half and, I believe, used more miles of film stock than any other movie ever made. It shows, and it's kind of brilliant. The film is sparkling, pristine, and technically flawless. (Really, don't ever debate the talent of Stanley Kubrick with me. You may not like the films, but it's impossible to deny the man was a genius -- one of the best -- at what he did.) So, despite its weaknesses, The Shining is a compulsively watchable movie. It's just so damn well made that I have to admire it. Sure, Kubrick made better films, but none of them strike me as being as quintessentially a "director showcase" as this one. That, far more than the story itself, makes it a must-see.
Tetsuo: The Iron Man (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1989) 45
I suppose calling this the Japanese Eraserhead wouldn't be too far off the mark. While there is some semblance of a coherent narrative, it really plays second-banana to the fact that the director just wants to fuck you up bad. But David Lynch is an extremely skilled director, and he's capable of making brilliant films from elements that would be insufferable in anyone else's hands. So whereas Eraserhead is fucked up and weird and disturbing, it clicks with me. It works. Tetsuo, on the other hand, never rises above just being a series of surreal, hyperkinetic grotesqueries. Technically, the film is brilliant: the editing is virtuoso, to say the least. But the thing is, you get it rather quickly. I'd say that by the 30-minute mark at the very latest, you've seen what there is to see. Even though the film itself is a very brief 63 minutes, it still feels like it just goes on and on and on. There's no doubt Shinya Tsukamoto made the film he wanted to make (the ultra-stylish final product glistens with a sort of rough-edged, demented perfectionism), and the film does have its avid cult followers, but I can't really count myself among them. I am glad I saw it. It satisfied my curiosities. But it's not the sort of thing I think I'd ever need to return to.
Time (Kim Ki-Duk, 2006) 76
A haunting and poignant film from South Korea, which -- at least in terms of what gets international distribution -- seems to be a powerhouse for haunting and poignant films. Upon further consideration and the inevitable second viewing, I may even raise that 76, because there are a lot of intriguing ideas here that are handled very, very well. The general idea runs thusly: a jealous woman, afraid her boyfriend may be getting bored and tired of her, has plastic surgery to completely alter her facial appearance. Then, as the "new" woman, she begins a relationship with the same boyfriend, who of course does not realize that she is the same woman. The film refuses to shy away from the difficult ethical and emotional ramifications of this, and the result is both unsettling and provocative. Ki-Duk (whose, well, haunting and poignant 2004 film 3-Iron is also well worth seeing) is, if anything, a master of subtlety: he plays the whole affair very low-key, develops his two main characters enough to make them utterly believable, and then places them smack-dab in the middle of a moral puzzle that, by nature, has no easy answer. It's not light entertainment, to be sure, but it's the sort of thing that crawls under your skin and refuses to let go. For that alone I admire it, but it also has something even deeper to say about love and human attraction, and the way it says these things makes it something of a triumph. It's definitely worth tracking down; I know I want to see it again very soon.
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) 74
The one thing I don't understand about this film (or more specifically, I suppose, about the Irvine Welsh novel it's based on -- which I do own a copy of and I will read whenever I get a chance, i.e. summer) is what the hell the title means. Is it slang? Is there some implicit, symbolic meaning? Is it just a pleasant alternative to Junkies Gone Wild? If I ever meet Mr. Welsh, I'll have to ask him. Also, I didn't realize until this viewing that Welsh actually has a cameo, playing the dealer who gives Renton the suppositories at the beginning. But these are just details. The big picture remains the same: this is still a good, solid, entertaining movie. It's not a great one (if you want one of those, I urge you look no further than Boyle's recent Oscar winner), but for what it is I say it does quite well. You could definitely find much worse ways to spend an hour and a half.
Chris Vardeman will return. Not necessarily stirred, but at the very least, constantly shaken.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Chris Is a Nerd, Pt. 7,381: Post-Oscar Thoughts
Overall, not a bad show. Hugh Jackman was a surprisingly strong host, it seemed like they did a good job expediting the "smaller" awards (sorry, I understand the significance, but I really couldn't care less about excellence in costume design), and the whole production seemed much more tastefully done than in past years. Also: thank god they decided to condense the Best Song nominees into a medley. I always hated sitting through those damn things.
One thing the Oscars can never seem to change, though, is how eminently predictable they are. Of the six categories I discussed a few weeks ago, I predicted five of the winners correctly. That's not too bad, honestly. Were I of age and in Vegas, I'd have probably made some money tonight. Not too much, though. The odds in favor of my predictions were probably pretty high.
Most importantly, however, I spent the evening in good company. A good time was had by all.
Let's break this down.
Best Picture:
Winner: Slumdog Millionaire
Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire
Comments: Let's face it: in recent years, the Academy has had a very good track record for rewarding the best film. Each of the last four years, the best film of the five nomimated has gone home with the statue: Crash in 2005, The Departed in 2006, No Country for Old Men in 2007, and now Slumdog Millionaire for 2008. And Slumdog WAS the best of the five films. You could argue with me, of course, but I imagine you'd be wrong.
Best Director:
Winner: Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire)
Prediction: Danny Boyle
Comments: Boyle's a very good director, he's responsible for a fantastic film, and by all accounts he deserved to win. He wasn't my personal preference (Fincher was), but he seems like a pretty nice dude and I'm glad he's finally gotten his chance to shine. It's been a long time coming.
Best Actor:
Winner: Sean Penn (Milk)
Prediction: Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)
Comments: Or, Sean Penn Jacks the Award from the Underdog, Pt. 2: Oh My God, He Actually Deserved It This Time. (Sorry. I still think Bill Murray should've won back in '03.) I predicted Rourke with some confidence, but I can't honestly say this surprises me. Penn is a perennial favorite, he played a very politically important character, and he did an excellent job of it. Despite agreeing with everything he said, I do think his speech was a bit too soapbox-ish. But he's Sean Penn. He's Mr. Hollywood Humanitarian. So, eh, whatever. Milk is a better film than The Wrestler, Sean Penn did a better job than Mickey Rourke, so I'm happy.
Best Actress:
Winner: Kate Winslet (The Reader)
Prediction: Kate Winslet
Comments: I keep returning to Winslet's 2005 appearance on Extras where she, as a foul-mouthed version of herself playing a nun in a World War II drama, admitted to Ricky Gervais that she was only doing the Holocaust drama so she could win an Oscar. Funny, to say the least, but prophetic. I didn't see The Reader. I didn't have much desire to. Winslet's a fine actress and I'm glad she finally won, but this feels so much more like a "we should give it to her because she hasn't won" than a "she was so great in this particular film, so let's reward her." But hey, that's the way it goes sometimes.
Best Supporting Actor:
Winner: Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight)
Prediction: Heath Ledger
Comments: Surprised?
Best Supporting Actress:
Winner: Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona)
Prediction: Penelope Cruz
Comments: Good. I'm glad she snagged this one. For my money, she was better than everyone else she was up against. This was one of the few awards of the evening where there was breathing room for some of the other nominees, but ultimately the Academy decided to be predictable and award the frontrunner once again. Justice is served, at least in this case.
The best moment of the evening was when that one dude balanced the Oscar statue on his chin. That was badass. The worst moments were the ones where I had to look at Adrien Brody's hair. What the fuck.
'Til this time next year! Who knows what'll take home the awards for 2009? I don't yet, but I place my early bets on Paul Blart: Mall Cop.
One thing the Oscars can never seem to change, though, is how eminently predictable they are. Of the six categories I discussed a few weeks ago, I predicted five of the winners correctly. That's not too bad, honestly. Were I of age and in Vegas, I'd have probably made some money tonight. Not too much, though. The odds in favor of my predictions were probably pretty high.
Most importantly, however, I spent the evening in good company. A good time was had by all.
Let's break this down.
Best Picture:
Winner: Slumdog Millionaire
Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire
Comments: Let's face it: in recent years, the Academy has had a very good track record for rewarding the best film. Each of the last four years, the best film of the five nomimated has gone home with the statue: Crash in 2005, The Departed in 2006, No Country for Old Men in 2007, and now Slumdog Millionaire for 2008. And Slumdog WAS the best of the five films. You could argue with me, of course, but I imagine you'd be wrong.
Best Director:
Winner: Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire)
Prediction: Danny Boyle
Comments: Boyle's a very good director, he's responsible for a fantastic film, and by all accounts he deserved to win. He wasn't my personal preference (Fincher was), but he seems like a pretty nice dude and I'm glad he's finally gotten his chance to shine. It's been a long time coming.
Best Actor:
Winner: Sean Penn (Milk)
Prediction: Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)
Comments: Or, Sean Penn Jacks the Award from the Underdog, Pt. 2: Oh My God, He Actually Deserved It This Time. (Sorry. I still think Bill Murray should've won back in '03.) I predicted Rourke with some confidence, but I can't honestly say this surprises me. Penn is a perennial favorite, he played a very politically important character, and he did an excellent job of it. Despite agreeing with everything he said, I do think his speech was a bit too soapbox-ish. But he's Sean Penn. He's Mr. Hollywood Humanitarian. So, eh, whatever. Milk is a better film than The Wrestler, Sean Penn did a better job than Mickey Rourke, so I'm happy.
Best Actress:
Winner: Kate Winslet (The Reader)
Prediction: Kate Winslet
Comments: I keep returning to Winslet's 2005 appearance on Extras where she, as a foul-mouthed version of herself playing a nun in a World War II drama, admitted to Ricky Gervais that she was only doing the Holocaust drama so she could win an Oscar. Funny, to say the least, but prophetic. I didn't see The Reader. I didn't have much desire to. Winslet's a fine actress and I'm glad she finally won, but this feels so much more like a "we should give it to her because she hasn't won" than a "she was so great in this particular film, so let's reward her." But hey, that's the way it goes sometimes.
Best Supporting Actor:
Winner: Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight)
Prediction: Heath Ledger
Comments: Surprised?
Best Supporting Actress:
Winner: Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona)
Prediction: Penelope Cruz
Comments: Good. I'm glad she snagged this one. For my money, she was better than everyone else she was up against. This was one of the few awards of the evening where there was breathing room for some of the other nominees, but ultimately the Academy decided to be predictable and award the frontrunner once again. Justice is served, at least in this case.
The best moment of the evening was when that one dude balanced the Oscar statue on his chin. That was badass. The worst moments were the ones where I had to look at Adrien Brody's hair. What the fuck.
'Til this time next year! Who knows what'll take home the awards for 2009? I don't yet, but I place my early bets on Paul Blart: Mall Cop.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Movie Roundup: 2/12/09
... now with more ridiculously high scores than ever before!
School is terrible. I immediately classify anything that stands in the way of me watching lots and lots of movies as such, and school quite effortlessly succeeds in this endeavor. As a result, I have only managed to watch but nine films since the semester began. However, as can be seen from the almost uniformly high scores, I've at least made those nine films count. At least, in most cases. There are, as always, exceptions. The alphabet has, for dramatic effect, saved the juicy ones for last. Onward.
Children of Men (Alfonso Cuaron, 2006) 86
Proof positive that good movies should never be watched only once. Before now, the only time I had seen Children of Men was during its theatrical run. I liked it, but it didn't register in my head as anything other than just a good, solid sci-fi film. Who knows what happened in the two intervening years, but upon rewatching this, I was floored. Absolutely fucking blown away. This was the same film, unquestionably, but somehow this time it was just better. So, so, so much better. First off, I don't remember it being this emotionally harrowing; I remember it being dark and bleak, but nowhere near as affecting. And second, everything you've heard about this film's cinematography is true; I just can't even comprehend how they pulled some of this shit off. Though there are several amazing sequences (the "egg-spitting scene," for lack of a better description, being one), the now-famous six-minute warzone take near the end of the film is one of the most impressive things I have ever seen. I'd say it has to be seen to be believed, but I've watched that scene by itself several times and I still don't believe it. Just like how I still don't believe I could have seen this the first time and not just gone apeshit for it. It's fuckin' amazing.
A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick, 1971) 100
I've said it once before: there are exactly five films I've seen that I would give a perfect score. This is one of them. Stanley Kubrick was an inhumanly gifted filmmaker, and he's responsible for some of the greatest movies ever produced, but this is hands-down his greatest achievement. It's also his most notorious. Over the last four decades, the film has amassed almost as many detractors as it has avid supporters. And while the naysayers' points may be valid, I will defend this film to the ends of the earth and back. The one argument I will not buy, though, is that it's just an empty, excessive excuse to shock its audience. Kubrick's approach is very forceful, but to accuse him of doing it without a solid agenda completely undermines the fact that this film dishes up lots of provocative philosophical questions. There is quite a bit to chew on here. Alex is an evil, sadistic sociopath, but isn't what the "good, clean" society/government does to him even more evil and more sadistic? Is robbing a person of his free will not an even more cruel, violent act than anything Alex does for fun? Isn't the capacity for decision what makes a person truly human? This is just scratching the surface. These are not empty, easy questions. This is a film with something to say. Many find the way it says these things objectionable, but I assert that it has to be unrelenting to make the impact that it does. It's unquestionably one of the nastiest, most vicious and unforgiving movies ever made, and many will hate it for this reason, but I think it's all the better for it. And even stripped to its basics, it's still wonderful: it's a boldly original story very well-told, Malcolm McDowell gives one of film's great performances as little Alex, and Kubrick's talent for direction and cinematography is -- as always -- unparalleled (the calm, surreal, tripped-out way he filmed this creates an atmosphere quite unlike any other in film history). This is why I love film. Everything's here, and it's perfect.
The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan, 2008) 94
I've always been fascinated by how quick and skillful the Joker is for a man who supposedly has no plan. I imagine it would take some firepower indeed to blow up an entire hospital, but somehow the guy manages to rig it all up in under an hour. What a resourceful son of a bitch. In other news, this movie is still fucking fantastic. I have now seen this film four times. It has been out six and a half months. I almost never rewatch movies with that sort of frequency. Something about this one just compels me to. I live in constant fear of the day its follow-up inevitably gets released; even if Christopher "God" Nolan is onboard again, there's no way it's going to be anywhere near as good as this. I mean, how could it be? What sort of villain could ever compare to Heath Ledger's Joker? What sort of tragic story arc would ever measure up to the decline and fall of Harvey Dent? Nothing. Nolan may be divinity among directors, but some water is just too fickle to walk on. But you gotta admit, he brought it on himself. We love him oh so dearly for it, but -- as they say -- no good deed goes unpunished.
Fear(s) of the Dark (A Bunch of French Dudes, 2008) 71
A very cool, stylish collection of French animated shorts. The overarching concept, as I understand it, is to tap into and -- to a certain extent -- exploit some of our primal fears: creepy crawlies, mad scientists, swamp monsters, Republicans (is that redundant?). And while none of these films are genuinely scary or even a little bit creepy, they are all shades of Highly Entertaining and Satisfyingly Badass. My personal favorite is the final vignette, in which a man suspects he may be at the tender mercies of a murderous housewife, but truly all of these are quite cool in their own ways. The film falters a bit with its short, female-voiced interludes, but even so, these banal middle-class "fears" provide an interesting contrast to the darker and more legitimate affairs of the full-length stories. So, all in all, a very worthwhile venture. It's different (which is always a plus), it's not "French" in the pejorative film-snob sense of the word, and it's honestly a lot of fun. Definitely recommended.
The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972) 99
Yep, it's still that good. I have this fear -- sometimes justified, sometimes not -- of rewatching favorite films and finding that something has been lost between viewings; that I don't care for it quite as much as I did before. In the end, with The Godfather, I probably never had anything to worry about. This is filmmaking at its finest. Very few films can purport to working flawlessly on every level, but it happens here: the gold-hued cinematography is gorgeous; Nino Rota's mournful music has become iconic; there's tons of both implicit and explicit symbolism; there's a tremendous message about the corruptive influence of money and power (the once-virtuous, "that's my family, Kay, not me" Michael Corleone is, in my view, one of the most tragic characters in all of cinema); and, for the more straightforward audiences who just want an entertaining story well-told, the one on display here is as nuanced, multifaceted, and air-tight as can be hoped for. The first time I ever saw this, I was wary. I was thinking there was no way it could ever stand up to its one-of-the-best-ever hype. It does. It is one of the best. Second only to The Shawshank Redemption, of course.
Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, 1997) 82
I guess my own personal hero-worship of Mr. Tarantino leads me to overestimate how much other people like him. The group I watched this with, as a whole, did not seem to enjoy it quite as much as I expected. But hey, that's what makes for horse races. I love it. I'm giving it an 82, which -- despite how many high ratings I've been giving out lately (a misleading consequence of rewatching favorites and not watching new ones) -- is still a ridiculously good score. And it's really only my third-favorite Tarantino flick (Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill are, of course, firmly embedded in the uppermost tier of my rating scale, while the still-awesome Reservoir Dogs is in my opinion his weakest). Still, like it or not, this has got his fingerprints all over it. Despite being his only adapted screenplay to date, the film is still unmistakably his, and personal responses are no doubt going to hinge on that. It is long and it is deliberately paced, but for my money it never once stops being entertaining or enjoyable. So there we are.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Tom Tykwer, 2006) 46
Tom Tykwer directed this. The man who made a name for himself with the kinetic, uber-hip, stylish Run Lola Run made this. Two more dissimilar films you will never see, to say the least. This is a movie that handles its weirdness much like many women handle their perfume: everyone knows a little dab will do ya, but in the end some erroneous idea about excess seems to take over in spite of it all. Some women, I swear to god, use half the bottle because they think each additional squirt will somehow make them that much more aromatic. Instead, it's just nauseating. Perfume, likewise, can't stop at being a dark, quirky serial killer yarn; it's so desperate to assert itself as "something different" that it feels compelled to keep piling the weirdness on until the whole thing just becomes ridiculous. By the time it got to its mass orgy/Christ figure/zombie flesh-eating payoff (oh, if I were only joking), I knew there was no way it was ever going to be able to recover itself. And that's a shame, because it starts off intriguingly, only to have its interest shift away from what happens in the plot in order to focus on the "what next?" element of its rather depraved downward spiral (and may I just say this spiral goes on and on and on -- at 147 minutes, I shit you not, the film's way too long). I'd be lying if I said it's not entertaining; it certainly is. It's ... captivating, to be sure. But it doesn't add up to much. It's just weird for weirdness' sake, and -- aside from Lynch and very few other exceptions -- I'm not really cool with that. Bonus points for casting Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman, though. Always good to see those guys.
Sunset Blvd. (Billy Wilder, 1950) 93
The way I see it, Billy Wilder is just about the greatest director that no one knows about. Names like Kubrick and Hitchcock get thrown around constantly by all manner of film fans, hardcore and casual alike, but for some reason Wilder seems to get lost in the shuffle. The truth is, though, that from the mid-40s to the early 60s, the man basically just made one amazing film after another. However, none in my opinion are quite as amazing as Sunset Blvd., still one of the most profoundly unsettling films ever released by a major studio. Let's face it: Wilder had balls. Big ones. For when it was made, this was edgy stuff. It's still potent almost sixty years later. (The same thing struck me the first time I watched Double Indemnity, Ace in the Hole, and Some Like It Hot -- the man simply refused to play it safe, which no doubt is an integral part of his greatness.) The usual Movie Night crew was chuckling and commenting throughout, but it was easy for me to see that it wasn't so much genuine amusement as it was nervous energy. Despite preconceived notions about "old movies," this is not an "easy" film. It tackles some dark, disturbing subject matter with a frankness that makes it indelible. And with a strong script, brilliant performances (Gloria Swanson is ... beyond words as Norma Desmond), and top-notch direction, it's little wonder this has become one of the all-time greats. I respectfully agree.
Tokyo Gore Police (Yoshihiro Nishimura, 2008) 34
I'm not the kind of guy who loses his shit just because something is Japanese. I don't get people who do. Our Japanese friends, colorful as their culture may be, are just as capable of making a bad film as anyone else. To be honest, you kinda know what you're getting yourself into with a title like Tokyo Gore Police. It's a splatterfest, and its main goal is to showcase as many gruesome mutilations as its 110-minute runtime will allow. And I get that. I'm cool with that. I'm one of the least squeamish people you'll ever meet, so that's not my problem with it. My problem with it is that it's just a bad film. I suppose the ooey-gooey blood and gore is effective in some exaggerated way, but it looks fake. It looks like movie gore. To add to that, the story (highly trained police killer wants revenge for her father's murder) is pretty pedestrian and uninvolving, which in itself wouldn't be too much of a burden if the heroine wasn't so damn uninteresting. It's impossible to connect with her, especially when she's really not that sympathetic (she bloodbathes some random dude who feels her up on the subway). To round it out, poor continuity editing makes this seem more like an extended trippy dream sequence than a coherent story. But oh well. It definitely has promise (I like the general idea quite a bit: futuristic Tokyo, privatized police force with extreme crime-fighting strategies, and so on), but it doesn't focus that promise in a way I find satisfying. Audiences that just want to see people get gored and mutilated and hacked up and bloodied in ridiculously graphic ways will probably get into it; I wanted a little more emotion and a stronger plot to justify it. Or maybe there's just some cosmic law that states that a sane and ethical person is only allowed, based on moral principles, to like one film of this ilk. I found that film when I watched Miike's Ichi the Killer (which is just as grotesque and graphic, but has a certain something that the Tokyo Gore Police Club lacks). So just watch that one instead, yes?
'Til next time ... OUT!
School is terrible. I immediately classify anything that stands in the way of me watching lots and lots of movies as such, and school quite effortlessly succeeds in this endeavor. As a result, I have only managed to watch but nine films since the semester began. However, as can be seen from the almost uniformly high scores, I've at least made those nine films count. At least, in most cases. There are, as always, exceptions. The alphabet has, for dramatic effect, saved the juicy ones for last. Onward.
Children of Men (Alfonso Cuaron, 2006) 86
Proof positive that good movies should never be watched only once. Before now, the only time I had seen Children of Men was during its theatrical run. I liked it, but it didn't register in my head as anything other than just a good, solid sci-fi film. Who knows what happened in the two intervening years, but upon rewatching this, I was floored. Absolutely fucking blown away. This was the same film, unquestionably, but somehow this time it was just better. So, so, so much better. First off, I don't remember it being this emotionally harrowing; I remember it being dark and bleak, but nowhere near as affecting. And second, everything you've heard about this film's cinematography is true; I just can't even comprehend how they pulled some of this shit off. Though there are several amazing sequences (the "egg-spitting scene," for lack of a better description, being one), the now-famous six-minute warzone take near the end of the film is one of the most impressive things I have ever seen. I'd say it has to be seen to be believed, but I've watched that scene by itself several times and I still don't believe it. Just like how I still don't believe I could have seen this the first time and not just gone apeshit for it. It's fuckin' amazing.
A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick, 1971) 100
I've said it once before: there are exactly five films I've seen that I would give a perfect score. This is one of them. Stanley Kubrick was an inhumanly gifted filmmaker, and he's responsible for some of the greatest movies ever produced, but this is hands-down his greatest achievement. It's also his most notorious. Over the last four decades, the film has amassed almost as many detractors as it has avid supporters. And while the naysayers' points may be valid, I will defend this film to the ends of the earth and back. The one argument I will not buy, though, is that it's just an empty, excessive excuse to shock its audience. Kubrick's approach is very forceful, but to accuse him of doing it without a solid agenda completely undermines the fact that this film dishes up lots of provocative philosophical questions. There is quite a bit to chew on here. Alex is an evil, sadistic sociopath, but isn't what the "good, clean" society/government does to him even more evil and more sadistic? Is robbing a person of his free will not an even more cruel, violent act than anything Alex does for fun? Isn't the capacity for decision what makes a person truly human? This is just scratching the surface. These are not empty, easy questions. This is a film with something to say. Many find the way it says these things objectionable, but I assert that it has to be unrelenting to make the impact that it does. It's unquestionably one of the nastiest, most vicious and unforgiving movies ever made, and many will hate it for this reason, but I think it's all the better for it. And even stripped to its basics, it's still wonderful: it's a boldly original story very well-told, Malcolm McDowell gives one of film's great performances as little Alex, and Kubrick's talent for direction and cinematography is -- as always -- unparalleled (the calm, surreal, tripped-out way he filmed this creates an atmosphere quite unlike any other in film history). This is why I love film. Everything's here, and it's perfect.
The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan, 2008) 94
I've always been fascinated by how quick and skillful the Joker is for a man who supposedly has no plan. I imagine it would take some firepower indeed to blow up an entire hospital, but somehow the guy manages to rig it all up in under an hour. What a resourceful son of a bitch. In other news, this movie is still fucking fantastic. I have now seen this film four times. It has been out six and a half months. I almost never rewatch movies with that sort of frequency. Something about this one just compels me to. I live in constant fear of the day its follow-up inevitably gets released; even if Christopher "God" Nolan is onboard again, there's no way it's going to be anywhere near as good as this. I mean, how could it be? What sort of villain could ever compare to Heath Ledger's Joker? What sort of tragic story arc would ever measure up to the decline and fall of Harvey Dent? Nothing. Nolan may be divinity among directors, but some water is just too fickle to walk on. But you gotta admit, he brought it on himself. We love him oh so dearly for it, but -- as they say -- no good deed goes unpunished.
Fear(s) of the Dark (A Bunch of French Dudes, 2008) 71
A very cool, stylish collection of French animated shorts. The overarching concept, as I understand it, is to tap into and -- to a certain extent -- exploit some of our primal fears: creepy crawlies, mad scientists, swamp monsters, Republicans (is that redundant?). And while none of these films are genuinely scary or even a little bit creepy, they are all shades of Highly Entertaining and Satisfyingly Badass. My personal favorite is the final vignette, in which a man suspects he may be at the tender mercies of a murderous housewife, but truly all of these are quite cool in their own ways. The film falters a bit with its short, female-voiced interludes, but even so, these banal middle-class "fears" provide an interesting contrast to the darker and more legitimate affairs of the full-length stories. So, all in all, a very worthwhile venture. It's different (which is always a plus), it's not "French" in the pejorative film-snob sense of the word, and it's honestly a lot of fun. Definitely recommended.
The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972) 99
Yep, it's still that good. I have this fear -- sometimes justified, sometimes not -- of rewatching favorite films and finding that something has been lost between viewings; that I don't care for it quite as much as I did before. In the end, with The Godfather, I probably never had anything to worry about. This is filmmaking at its finest. Very few films can purport to working flawlessly on every level, but it happens here: the gold-hued cinematography is gorgeous; Nino Rota's mournful music has become iconic; there's tons of both implicit and explicit symbolism; there's a tremendous message about the corruptive influence of money and power (the once-virtuous, "that's my family, Kay, not me" Michael Corleone is, in my view, one of the most tragic characters in all of cinema); and, for the more straightforward audiences who just want an entertaining story well-told, the one on display here is as nuanced, multifaceted, and air-tight as can be hoped for. The first time I ever saw this, I was wary. I was thinking there was no way it could ever stand up to its one-of-the-best-ever hype. It does. It is one of the best. Second only to The Shawshank Redemption, of course.
Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, 1997) 82
I guess my own personal hero-worship of Mr. Tarantino leads me to overestimate how much other people like him. The group I watched this with, as a whole, did not seem to enjoy it quite as much as I expected. But hey, that's what makes for horse races. I love it. I'm giving it an 82, which -- despite how many high ratings I've been giving out lately (a misleading consequence of rewatching favorites and not watching new ones) -- is still a ridiculously good score. And it's really only my third-favorite Tarantino flick (Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill are, of course, firmly embedded in the uppermost tier of my rating scale, while the still-awesome Reservoir Dogs is in my opinion his weakest). Still, like it or not, this has got his fingerprints all over it. Despite being his only adapted screenplay to date, the film is still unmistakably his, and personal responses are no doubt going to hinge on that. It is long and it is deliberately paced, but for my money it never once stops being entertaining or enjoyable. So there we are.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Tom Tykwer, 2006) 46
Tom Tykwer directed this. The man who made a name for himself with the kinetic, uber-hip, stylish Run Lola Run made this. Two more dissimilar films you will never see, to say the least. This is a movie that handles its weirdness much like many women handle their perfume: everyone knows a little dab will do ya, but in the end some erroneous idea about excess seems to take over in spite of it all. Some women, I swear to god, use half the bottle because they think each additional squirt will somehow make them that much more aromatic. Instead, it's just nauseating. Perfume, likewise, can't stop at being a dark, quirky serial killer yarn; it's so desperate to assert itself as "something different" that it feels compelled to keep piling the weirdness on until the whole thing just becomes ridiculous. By the time it got to its mass orgy/Christ figure/zombie flesh-eating payoff (oh, if I were only joking), I knew there was no way it was ever going to be able to recover itself. And that's a shame, because it starts off intriguingly, only to have its interest shift away from what happens in the plot in order to focus on the "what next?" element of its rather depraved downward spiral (and may I just say this spiral goes on and on and on -- at 147 minutes, I shit you not, the film's way too long). I'd be lying if I said it's not entertaining; it certainly is. It's ... captivating, to be sure. But it doesn't add up to much. It's just weird for weirdness' sake, and -- aside from Lynch and very few other exceptions -- I'm not really cool with that. Bonus points for casting Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman, though. Always good to see those guys.
Sunset Blvd. (Billy Wilder, 1950) 93
The way I see it, Billy Wilder is just about the greatest director that no one knows about. Names like Kubrick and Hitchcock get thrown around constantly by all manner of film fans, hardcore and casual alike, but for some reason Wilder seems to get lost in the shuffle. The truth is, though, that from the mid-40s to the early 60s, the man basically just made one amazing film after another. However, none in my opinion are quite as amazing as Sunset Blvd., still one of the most profoundly unsettling films ever released by a major studio. Let's face it: Wilder had balls. Big ones. For when it was made, this was edgy stuff. It's still potent almost sixty years later. (The same thing struck me the first time I watched Double Indemnity, Ace in the Hole, and Some Like It Hot -- the man simply refused to play it safe, which no doubt is an integral part of his greatness.) The usual Movie Night crew was chuckling and commenting throughout, but it was easy for me to see that it wasn't so much genuine amusement as it was nervous energy. Despite preconceived notions about "old movies," this is not an "easy" film. It tackles some dark, disturbing subject matter with a frankness that makes it indelible. And with a strong script, brilliant performances (Gloria Swanson is ... beyond words as Norma Desmond), and top-notch direction, it's little wonder this has become one of the all-time greats. I respectfully agree.
Tokyo Gore Police (Yoshihiro Nishimura, 2008) 34
I'm not the kind of guy who loses his shit just because something is Japanese. I don't get people who do. Our Japanese friends, colorful as their culture may be, are just as capable of making a bad film as anyone else. To be honest, you kinda know what you're getting yourself into with a title like Tokyo Gore Police. It's a splatterfest, and its main goal is to showcase as many gruesome mutilations as its 110-minute runtime will allow. And I get that. I'm cool with that. I'm one of the least squeamish people you'll ever meet, so that's not my problem with it. My problem with it is that it's just a bad film. I suppose the ooey-gooey blood and gore is effective in some exaggerated way, but it looks fake. It looks like movie gore. To add to that, the story (highly trained police killer wants revenge for her father's murder) is pretty pedestrian and uninvolving, which in itself wouldn't be too much of a burden if the heroine wasn't so damn uninteresting. It's impossible to connect with her, especially when she's really not that sympathetic (she bloodbathes some random dude who feels her up on the subway). To round it out, poor continuity editing makes this seem more like an extended trippy dream sequence than a coherent story. But oh well. It definitely has promise (I like the general idea quite a bit: futuristic Tokyo, privatized police force with extreme crime-fighting strategies, and so on), but it doesn't focus that promise in a way I find satisfying. Audiences that just want to see people get gored and mutilated and hacked up and bloodied in ridiculously graphic ways will probably get into it; I wanted a little more emotion and a stronger plot to justify it. Or maybe there's just some cosmic law that states that a sane and ethical person is only allowed, based on moral principles, to like one film of this ilk. I found that film when I watched Miike's Ichi the Killer (which is just as grotesque and graphic, but has a certain something that the Tokyo Gore Police Club lacks). So just watch that one instead, yes?
'Til next time ... OUT!
Friday, January 23, 2009
The Annual Oscar Post
Most red-blooded American males spend this time of year geeking out about the Super Bowl.
I don't give a fuck about the Super Bowl.
Instead, I the shameless movie geek redirect that energy to a markedly different sort of Sunday night programming: the Academy Awards. I admit that they're utterly trivial (while, clearly, a bunch of guys in tight pants tackling the shit out of each other over a piece of inflatable pigskin isn't), but I think they're fun. They recognize excellence in something I care deeply about, and that's all that matters to me. And even though there are about 9,000 other awards shows, as far as film goes, the Oscars are still singlehandedly the most prestigious. So that's exciting, right? Right.
So every year after nominees are announced, I do this here Oscar write-up. Well, the nominees were announced yesterday morning, so here we are. It's a pretty straightforward breakdown: I list the nominees, give my personal preference (Should Win), my prediction of the actual winner (Will Win -- and sometimes these even correspond to each other, oooh aaah), and then write a few short comments. It couldn't be simpler. Unless of course I just didn't do it, which would be much more practical.
Let's check it out.
Best Picture:
The Nominees: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Reader, Slumdog Millionaire
Should Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Will Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Comments: All in all, a very strong lineup. Of these, The Reader is the only one I haven't seen (and I don't have much desire to), while the other four all very handily made my Top 10 List. They're all deserving in their own right. However, Slumdog Millionaire is the little engine that could. It's a juggernaut and it has near-universal support behind it (and, for what it's worth, it's also my personal favorite). If there's an upset, it'll be Benjamin Button (my second favorite, incidentally), but I don't see that happening.
Best Director:
The Nominees: Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire), Stephen Daldry (The Reader), David Fincher (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Ron Howard (Frost/Nixon), Gus Van Sant (Milk)
Should Win: David Fincher
Will Win: Danny Boyle
Comments: Again, it's a race between my two favorite films and, frankly, of those nominated, my two favorite directors (funny how that works out). The Academy has an irritating habit of rewarding the film itself over how well directed it is, which is why I predict Boyle's going to win, but it's not like he's undeserving: Slumdog IS a very stylish and expertly made film. However, Fincher's work on Benjamin Button is just better. It was just about the prettiest and best-directed film of 2008. Also, I'm a bit biased, just because I think Fincher's one of the best out there. And that is a bit of a monkeywrench: the Academy does tend to reward based on past achievements. So it's a race not just between Button and Slumdog, but also between Se7en/Fight Club and Trainspotting/28 Days Later. We'll see.
Best Actor:
The Nominees: Richard Jenkins (The Visitor), Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon), Sean Penn (Milk), Brad Pitt (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)
Should Win: Frank Langella
Will Win: Mickey Rourke
Comments: It's Rourke. Anyone wanna argue the point? It's a shame, too, because I honestly think Langella, Penn, and Pitt were all much better in their respective roles. Yeah, sure, Rourke was good, but it wasn't Oscar-caliber. They're just hopeless romantics looking for an underdog. They've found him. So tough luck, Mr. Langella. If it were me, your brilliant work as Richard Nixon would not go unrewarded. As it stands, well, to paraphrase Bogart: you'll always have Watergate.
Best Supporting Actor:
The Nominees: Josh Brolin (Milk), Robert Downey, Jr. (Tropic Thunder), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Doubt), Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight), Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road)
Should Win: Heath Ledger
Will Win: Heath Ledger
Comments: Every year there's at least one sure thing. This is it. Ain't no way Ledger's losing. I'd bet every cent I own. (But some serious lulz @ Downey actually getting nominated for Tropic Thunder. Rock on, dude. Rock. On.)
Best Actress:
The Nominees: Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married), Angelina Jolie (Changeling), Melissa Leo (Frozen River), Meryl Streep (Doubt), Kate Winslet (The Reader)
Should Win: Anne Hathaway
Will Win: Kate Winslet
Comments: The biggest shocker here is that Winslet was nominated for The Reader and not Revolutionary Road. Regardless of which film, though, I still think her chances of winning are pretty damn good. She's been nominated six times now (which, for a 33-year-old, is beyond amazing), and it's just "her time" to win. If I were to choose, I'd go for Anne Hathaway's mindblowing work in Rachel Getting Married (my second-favorite performance of last year, after Mr. Ledger), but she's just a minor player. Being nominated is her reward; that's all she's gonna get.
Best Supporting Actress:
The Nominees: Amy Adams (Doubt), Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona), Viola Davis (Doubt), Taraji P. Henson (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Marisa Tomei (The Wrestler)
Should Win: Penelope Cruz
Will Win: Penelope Cruz
Comments: Although Kate Winslet cleaned up both lead and supporting categories at the Golden Globes, she was left out here, which levels the playing field again. So I'm back to my original prediction that Penelope Cruz is going to get her due for her standout work in That New Woody Allen Film. She should, too: she's dynamite in that part. If there's a dark horse waiting in the wings, it's Viola Davis. At this point, the buzz is such that it could go either way. But for right now I'll place my bets on Cruz. I may regret it later, but there we go.
... and of course there are a bazillion other categories, for which I could waste a hell of a lot more time writing about, but these are the big ones. We'll see how accurate my predictions are. At this point, I'm fairly confident about all of these, but the buzz over the course of the next month could prove me wrong. Still, Ledger and Rourke are in the bag, hands-down, and Winslet's not looking too bad, either.
Also: are you people really that surprised that The Dark Knight didn't get nominated for more of the big awards? Really? C'mon. Despite how good the film actually is, it's still a "superhero movie." Film snobs, unless they're unapologetic geeks like myself, don't go for that sort of thing. They get their rocks off watching Kate Winslet play a Nazi pedophile. There's been a lot of talk about how both the film itself and Mr. Nolan's direction have gotten snubbed, but frankly I'm not surprised at all. I would've been more surprised if they had gotten the nod. The film will get its due by means of Heath Ledger and some of the technical awards, but that's about it. So it goes. We all know how great the film is, though, so with that out of the way we can just sit back and watch the evening unfold as it will.
30 days! Or ... however long. I don't pay much attention to these things. I just know I'll be watching when it does happen.
I don't give a fuck about the Super Bowl.
Instead, I the shameless movie geek redirect that energy to a markedly different sort of Sunday night programming: the Academy Awards. I admit that they're utterly trivial (while, clearly, a bunch of guys in tight pants tackling the shit out of each other over a piece of inflatable pigskin isn't), but I think they're fun. They recognize excellence in something I care deeply about, and that's all that matters to me. And even though there are about 9,000 other awards shows, as far as film goes, the Oscars are still singlehandedly the most prestigious. So that's exciting, right? Right.
So every year after nominees are announced, I do this here Oscar write-up. Well, the nominees were announced yesterday morning, so here we are. It's a pretty straightforward breakdown: I list the nominees, give my personal preference (Should Win), my prediction of the actual winner (Will Win -- and sometimes these even correspond to each other, oooh aaah), and then write a few short comments. It couldn't be simpler. Unless of course I just didn't do it, which would be much more practical.
Let's check it out.
Best Picture:
The Nominees: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Reader, Slumdog Millionaire
Should Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Will Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Comments: All in all, a very strong lineup. Of these, The Reader is the only one I haven't seen (and I don't have much desire to), while the other four all very handily made my Top 10 List. They're all deserving in their own right. However, Slumdog Millionaire is the little engine that could. It's a juggernaut and it has near-universal support behind it (and, for what it's worth, it's also my personal favorite). If there's an upset, it'll be Benjamin Button (my second favorite, incidentally), but I don't see that happening.
Best Director:
The Nominees: Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire), Stephen Daldry (The Reader), David Fincher (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Ron Howard (Frost/Nixon), Gus Van Sant (Milk)
Should Win: David Fincher
Will Win: Danny Boyle
Comments: Again, it's a race between my two favorite films and, frankly, of those nominated, my two favorite directors (funny how that works out). The Academy has an irritating habit of rewarding the film itself over how well directed it is, which is why I predict Boyle's going to win, but it's not like he's undeserving: Slumdog IS a very stylish and expertly made film. However, Fincher's work on Benjamin Button is just better. It was just about the prettiest and best-directed film of 2008. Also, I'm a bit biased, just because I think Fincher's one of the best out there. And that is a bit of a monkeywrench: the Academy does tend to reward based on past achievements. So it's a race not just between Button and Slumdog, but also between Se7en/Fight Club and Trainspotting/28 Days Later. We'll see.
Best Actor:
The Nominees: Richard Jenkins (The Visitor), Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon), Sean Penn (Milk), Brad Pitt (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)
Should Win: Frank Langella
Will Win: Mickey Rourke
Comments: It's Rourke. Anyone wanna argue the point? It's a shame, too, because I honestly think Langella, Penn, and Pitt were all much better in their respective roles. Yeah, sure, Rourke was good, but it wasn't Oscar-caliber. They're just hopeless romantics looking for an underdog. They've found him. So tough luck, Mr. Langella. If it were me, your brilliant work as Richard Nixon would not go unrewarded. As it stands, well, to paraphrase Bogart: you'll always have Watergate.
Best Supporting Actor:
The Nominees: Josh Brolin (Milk), Robert Downey, Jr. (Tropic Thunder), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Doubt), Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight), Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road)
Should Win: Heath Ledger
Will Win: Heath Ledger
Comments: Every year there's at least one sure thing. This is it. Ain't no way Ledger's losing. I'd bet every cent I own. (But some serious lulz @ Downey actually getting nominated for Tropic Thunder. Rock on, dude. Rock. On.)
Best Actress:
The Nominees: Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married), Angelina Jolie (Changeling), Melissa Leo (Frozen River), Meryl Streep (Doubt), Kate Winslet (The Reader)
Should Win: Anne Hathaway
Will Win: Kate Winslet
Comments: The biggest shocker here is that Winslet was nominated for The Reader and not Revolutionary Road. Regardless of which film, though, I still think her chances of winning are pretty damn good. She's been nominated six times now (which, for a 33-year-old, is beyond amazing), and it's just "her time" to win. If I were to choose, I'd go for Anne Hathaway's mindblowing work in Rachel Getting Married (my second-favorite performance of last year, after Mr. Ledger), but she's just a minor player. Being nominated is her reward; that's all she's gonna get.
Best Supporting Actress:
The Nominees: Amy Adams (Doubt), Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona), Viola Davis (Doubt), Taraji P. Henson (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Marisa Tomei (The Wrestler)
Should Win: Penelope Cruz
Will Win: Penelope Cruz
Comments: Although Kate Winslet cleaned up both lead and supporting categories at the Golden Globes, she was left out here, which levels the playing field again. So I'm back to my original prediction that Penelope Cruz is going to get her due for her standout work in That New Woody Allen Film. She should, too: she's dynamite in that part. If there's a dark horse waiting in the wings, it's Viola Davis. At this point, the buzz is such that it could go either way. But for right now I'll place my bets on Cruz. I may regret it later, but there we go.
... and of course there are a bazillion other categories, for which I could waste a hell of a lot more time writing about, but these are the big ones. We'll see how accurate my predictions are. At this point, I'm fairly confident about all of these, but the buzz over the course of the next month could prove me wrong. Still, Ledger and Rourke are in the bag, hands-down, and Winslet's not looking too bad, either.
Also: are you people really that surprised that The Dark Knight didn't get nominated for more of the big awards? Really? C'mon. Despite how good the film actually is, it's still a "superhero movie." Film snobs, unless they're unapologetic geeks like myself, don't go for that sort of thing. They get their rocks off watching Kate Winslet play a Nazi pedophile. There's been a lot of talk about how both the film itself and Mr. Nolan's direction have gotten snubbed, but frankly I'm not surprised at all. I would've been more surprised if they had gotten the nod. The film will get its due by means of Heath Ledger and some of the technical awards, but that's about it. So it goes. We all know how great the film is, though, so with that out of the way we can just sit back and watch the evening unfold as it will.
30 days! Or ... however long. I don't pay much attention to these things. I just know I'll be watching when it does happen.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Movie Roundup: 1/18/09
I figured I should do this one more time before school swoops in and steals my soul again. I've spent the last (and final, sadly ... or is the promise of actually having something to do really so bad?) week or so of my break re-visiting some old favorites while discovering some, er, interesting new flicks. Same format as before, same scale, same everything. Just different movies. Which is great, 'cause I don't think I could handle The Spirit again just yet.
Forward.
American History X (Tony Kaye, 1998) 84
The movie that made Edward Norton a star, and deservedly so. His work here as a violent skinhead who gets a taste of his own medicine is nothing less than riveting. It's a prime example of a single performance (still Norton's best, by a long shot) elevating an already well-made film into the realms something much greater. The movie as a whole is likely the most brutal examination of racism I have encountered in a film (as much as I like Crash, this makes that one look like Sesame Street), and its impact is indelible. This is only my second time watching the film, but even after the first time I think I'd have had immense trouble forgetting the infamous "curb scene." It's among the nastiest, most mirthless acts of violence I've ever watched onscreen; it gives me chills just thinking about it. But that's a testament to how well done this is: it's sobering as hell and it tugs at the heartstrings unapologetically, but it never feels ingenuine. It's that believability that makes it such a forceful, potent piece of work. Factor Norton's should've-won-an-Oscar performance (he was nominated, but lost to Roberto Benigni) back in there and you have an unsettling film that's every bit as great as everyone says it is.
Ashes of Time Redux (Wong Kar-Wai, 1994/2008) 51
A gorgeous trainwreck. I realize the film probably deserves much lower than what I'm giving it, because it really is pretty awful, but I'm a sucker for visuals. I realize this is the cinematic equivalent of liking someone 'cause they're hott and leaving personality on the backburner, but sue me. I'm shallow. And regardless, I still hate this damn movie. Ashes of Time is well-shot to an extent that it actually makes the incoherence of the rest of the film even more frustrating. Why would Wong Kar-Wai waste such excellent cinematography on such a jumbled, indecipherable, and frankly disinteresting mess? And then, why would he feel the need to resurrect said mess to do a "redux" version? Given the assumption that his new "definitive" cut is an improvement, god help me if I ever have to sit through the original. According to IMDb, the original is seven minutes longer. You don't understand the weight of this. Time is a vacuum with this film. Seven Samurai feels shorter than this thing. An extra seven minutes might very well kill me. But hey, at least they'd be pretty.
The Big Lebowski (The Coen Brothers, 1998) 91
One of my all-time favorite comedies, if only for the fact that every single scene is some sort of absurd comic gem. One of the things about seeing it multiple times is that you learn to not expect it to be a smooth, coherent narrative in the traditional sense. Sure, there's a story, and for a comedy it's almost ridiculously twisty, but you can tell storytelling's not what the Coens are going for this time. They're just fucking around, and the result is that the story ends up riding shotgun to the randomness and absurdity that dominates the whole affair. This'll drive lots of people crazy (and the film does have its avid naysayers), especially if they don't know exactly what to expect, but I think what the Coens have whipped up here is brilliant. The thing is overflowing with memorable scenes, characters, and quotes ("I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man!"); you'll be surprised how often parts of it will come back to you in day-to-day life. It's wonderful, and it's one that gets better and better the more you watch it. I just love it.
Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974) 87
"Ya know what happens to nosy fellas? Huh? No? Wanna guess?" Roman Polanski's Chinatown is almost unquestionably among the greatest of all detective films: it's one of those that has both become a milestone in film history, and one that I greatly enjoy on a personal level. Calling it Polanski's best work is a no-brainer, and citing it as Jack Nicholson's finest two hours probably isn't too far off the mark, either. Film noir is my favorite genre, and this is just about as complex and hard-freakin'-boiled as they come. It may elude the casual viewer at first just why the film is called Chinatown, but stick with it: it has one of the grimmest, most hardass (which is to say, ideal) endings I can remember on a film, and by the time the credits roll all will make sense. "Forget it, Jake; it's Chinatown" may be the most wrenching non-sequitur ever spoken on the silver screen, but man. The gut-punch it packs is something else. A great, great film.
Eraserhead (David Lynch, 1977) 81
Fuckin' weird. David Lynch's debut film is much more a continuous stream of surrealist mindfuckery than it is a coherent narrative. To even attempt to describe it would be completely beside the point, and assigning a score to it is about as easy as achieving world peace. With our extant technologies, it's pretty much impossible. Acceptance of this one all hinges on whether or not you're a David Lynch fan. I am, so I give it a really high score, but I'm quite aware that most people ain't gonna be willing to put up with this nonsense. And though I can without hesitation call it brilliant, I too draw the line at calling it enjoyable. This is my second time, and it's still a remarkably uncomfortable experience. But I guess it's supposed to be. I admire it greatly, and even though I own it, it's not the sort of thing I'd ever bust out on a Saturday night and kick back to. I waited two and a half years between viewings #1 and #2. I think I can safely say I've filled my quota 'til June 2011.
The Hidden Fortress (Akira Kurosawa, 1958) 79
Er, how had I not seen this before? This is the film that George Lucas openly admits he took most of his ideas for Star Wars from, and while not a direct copy, it's very easy to see where he drew his inspiration. Truth be told, this is much more lightweight than the bulk of Kurosawa's work. His usual themes of humanity, redemption, and honor are present, but displayed under the guise of an adventure/comedy instead of a deeply moralistic samurai parable (Seven Samurai, Rashomon, etc.). Even still, it feels inherently Kurosawa, and like nearly all of his samurai collaborations with Toshiro Mifune, it's pretty much awesome. Honestly, this thing's just a lot of fun. Mifune's always a badass, the bumbling peasants are consistently amusing, the cinematography is great (but of course), and overall it's another gold star for one of the best-ever filmmakers. If there's one minor quibble I have, it's that the duel scene seems to go on for a really long time. Other than that, this is rockin'. And to think I got the Criterion disc used at Hastings for, like, $7 or something. Whatta steal.
Pan's Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) 97
If "masterpiece" is a word I throw around too much, Pan's Labyrinth is the sort of film that makes me wish I didn't, because that's exactly what it is. Guillermo del Toro's estimably mature adult fantasy is among the extremely few near-flawless cinematic achievements of the decade (or ever, for that matter); I have now seen it a good five or six times and still cannot shake the effect it has on me. It gives me everything I could want from it: it's brutal, it's creepy, but more than anything it's profoundly sad. The scene where Ofelia imagines herself standing in her father's lavish court is one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever seen, especially given the context in which it happens. Not to mention the spine-chilling Pale Man scene, which must be the single most recognizable sequence from any film in a rrrrreally long time. But seriously, neither words nor a near-perfect score can do justice to how phenomenal this is. If you haven't seen it, go watch it this instant. If you have seen it, go watch it again. You'll be glad, I promise.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2008) 55
I see lots of movies. Quite a few. Enough to make me think I'm past the point of ever seeing another movie that'll have me gaping at the screen, thinking "WTF" for its entire duration. Repo! The Genetic Opera almost effortlessly convinces me I'm so fucking wrong about this. I have to qualify that 55: this is not a movie I could ever give a straight-up score to. It's not. It wouldn't work. I'm only taking a guess at this, but that final score appears to be an average: if I gave this an 85 for sheer entertainment value and a 25 for how good it really is, that'd just about even it out. This movie is terrible. It's so goddamn bad. But it's entertaining as shit. Go watch it, and I defy you to take your eyes off the screen for even a moment. You won't be able to. So, er, I really don't know what to say about this. It's an instant cult film, for sure (like many have said, it's like the lovechild of Rocky Horror and Sweeney Todd by way of Blade Runner ... and it's got Paris Hilton in it). Am I glad I saw it? Er, well, yeah. Would I watch it again? Er, well, yeah. So I guess, technically, that makes me part of its cult. But I really, really, really don't want to think that way. If you've seen this, you know what I mean.
Revolutionary Road (Sam Mendes, 2008) 68
About ten years ago, Sam Mendes directed a little suburban relationship drama called American Beauty. Remember that one? Wasn't the happiest film ever, was it? Well, now he's gone and directed Revolutionary Road, another suburban relationship drama that successfully makes his prior Oscar-winner feel like a rollicking good time by comparison. Man, this is a harsh, harsh movie. I'm not going to deny it's very well done (the performances in particular are stellar, and I'm banking on Kate Winslet finally winning an Oscar for her work here), but it's nothing I would want to subject myself to ever again. You see it once, you get the point; you've seen what there is to see. You see it twice, you're really just engaging in masochistic behavior. By this token, Revolutionary Road falls into a curious class of film: one that if done well will be depressing, but one that if not done well will still be depressing. Thank god it's done well.
Seven Pounds (Gabriele Muccino, 2008) 47
Ick. Contrived, saccharine blah. It doesn't do anything you don't expect it to, and doesn't do any of these expected things interestingly (it attempts a nonlinear editing style to try to conceal the "big twist," even though we the not-stupid viewers basically have it figured out within 15 minutes). The only legitimate surprise is that it features what may in fact be the single most ridiculous scene involving a jellyfish I have ever watched. But you have to sit through, like, 95% of the movie before you get to that. Which is to say: not worth it.
All right. Three movie roundup posts under my belt. I think I've successfully convinced myself that I am, in fact, going to maintain this stupid thing like I said I would. (Ha, watch it die now. Though really, I like this format. I'll be keepin' it up. Though with school ... yeah. The updates'll be slower comin' and all that, but no worries. The day I stop watching/loving movies will be the day I die, and I don't anticipate that day for quite some time. And with that, I am outta here. Adios.)
Forward.
American History X (Tony Kaye, 1998) 84
The movie that made Edward Norton a star, and deservedly so. His work here as a violent skinhead who gets a taste of his own medicine is nothing less than riveting. It's a prime example of a single performance (still Norton's best, by a long shot) elevating an already well-made film into the realms something much greater. The movie as a whole is likely the most brutal examination of racism I have encountered in a film (as much as I like Crash, this makes that one look like Sesame Street), and its impact is indelible. This is only my second time watching the film, but even after the first time I think I'd have had immense trouble forgetting the infamous "curb scene." It's among the nastiest, most mirthless acts of violence I've ever watched onscreen; it gives me chills just thinking about it. But that's a testament to how well done this is: it's sobering as hell and it tugs at the heartstrings unapologetically, but it never feels ingenuine. It's that believability that makes it such a forceful, potent piece of work. Factor Norton's should've-won-an-Oscar performance (he was nominated, but lost to Roberto Benigni) back in there and you have an unsettling film that's every bit as great as everyone says it is.
Ashes of Time Redux (Wong Kar-Wai, 1994/2008) 51
A gorgeous trainwreck. I realize the film probably deserves much lower than what I'm giving it, because it really is pretty awful, but I'm a sucker for visuals. I realize this is the cinematic equivalent of liking someone 'cause they're hott and leaving personality on the backburner, but sue me. I'm shallow. And regardless, I still hate this damn movie. Ashes of Time is well-shot to an extent that it actually makes the incoherence of the rest of the film even more frustrating. Why would Wong Kar-Wai waste such excellent cinematography on such a jumbled, indecipherable, and frankly disinteresting mess? And then, why would he feel the need to resurrect said mess to do a "redux" version? Given the assumption that his new "definitive" cut is an improvement, god help me if I ever have to sit through the original. According to IMDb, the original is seven minutes longer. You don't understand the weight of this. Time is a vacuum with this film. Seven Samurai feels shorter than this thing. An extra seven minutes might very well kill me. But hey, at least they'd be pretty.
The Big Lebowski (The Coen Brothers, 1998) 91
One of my all-time favorite comedies, if only for the fact that every single scene is some sort of absurd comic gem. One of the things about seeing it multiple times is that you learn to not expect it to be a smooth, coherent narrative in the traditional sense. Sure, there's a story, and for a comedy it's almost ridiculously twisty, but you can tell storytelling's not what the Coens are going for this time. They're just fucking around, and the result is that the story ends up riding shotgun to the randomness and absurdity that dominates the whole affair. This'll drive lots of people crazy (and the film does have its avid naysayers), especially if they don't know exactly what to expect, but I think what the Coens have whipped up here is brilliant. The thing is overflowing with memorable scenes, characters, and quotes ("I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man!"); you'll be surprised how often parts of it will come back to you in day-to-day life. It's wonderful, and it's one that gets better and better the more you watch it. I just love it.
Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974) 87
"Ya know what happens to nosy fellas? Huh? No? Wanna guess?" Roman Polanski's Chinatown is almost unquestionably among the greatest of all detective films: it's one of those that has both become a milestone in film history, and one that I greatly enjoy on a personal level. Calling it Polanski's best work is a no-brainer, and citing it as Jack Nicholson's finest two hours probably isn't too far off the mark, either. Film noir is my favorite genre, and this is just about as complex and hard-freakin'-boiled as they come. It may elude the casual viewer at first just why the film is called Chinatown, but stick with it: it has one of the grimmest, most hardass (which is to say, ideal) endings I can remember on a film, and by the time the credits roll all will make sense. "Forget it, Jake; it's Chinatown" may be the most wrenching non-sequitur ever spoken on the silver screen, but man. The gut-punch it packs is something else. A great, great film.
Eraserhead (David Lynch, 1977) 81
Fuckin' weird. David Lynch's debut film is much more a continuous stream of surrealist mindfuckery than it is a coherent narrative. To even attempt to describe it would be completely beside the point, and assigning a score to it is about as easy as achieving world peace. With our extant technologies, it's pretty much impossible. Acceptance of this one all hinges on whether or not you're a David Lynch fan. I am, so I give it a really high score, but I'm quite aware that most people ain't gonna be willing to put up with this nonsense. And though I can without hesitation call it brilliant, I too draw the line at calling it enjoyable. This is my second time, and it's still a remarkably uncomfortable experience. But I guess it's supposed to be. I admire it greatly, and even though I own it, it's not the sort of thing I'd ever bust out on a Saturday night and kick back to. I waited two and a half years between viewings #1 and #2. I think I can safely say I've filled my quota 'til June 2011.
The Hidden Fortress (Akira Kurosawa, 1958) 79
Er, how had I not seen this before? This is the film that George Lucas openly admits he took most of his ideas for Star Wars from, and while not a direct copy, it's very easy to see where he drew his inspiration. Truth be told, this is much more lightweight than the bulk of Kurosawa's work. His usual themes of humanity, redemption, and honor are present, but displayed under the guise of an adventure/comedy instead of a deeply moralistic samurai parable (Seven Samurai, Rashomon, etc.). Even still, it feels inherently Kurosawa, and like nearly all of his samurai collaborations with Toshiro Mifune, it's pretty much awesome. Honestly, this thing's just a lot of fun. Mifune's always a badass, the bumbling peasants are consistently amusing, the cinematography is great (but of course), and overall it's another gold star for one of the best-ever filmmakers. If there's one minor quibble I have, it's that the duel scene seems to go on for a really long time. Other than that, this is rockin'. And to think I got the Criterion disc used at Hastings for, like, $7 or something. Whatta steal.
Pan's Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) 97
If "masterpiece" is a word I throw around too much, Pan's Labyrinth is the sort of film that makes me wish I didn't, because that's exactly what it is. Guillermo del Toro's estimably mature adult fantasy is among the extremely few near-flawless cinematic achievements of the decade (or ever, for that matter); I have now seen it a good five or six times and still cannot shake the effect it has on me. It gives me everything I could want from it: it's brutal, it's creepy, but more than anything it's profoundly sad. The scene where Ofelia imagines herself standing in her father's lavish court is one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever seen, especially given the context in which it happens. Not to mention the spine-chilling Pale Man scene, which must be the single most recognizable sequence from any film in a rrrrreally long time. But seriously, neither words nor a near-perfect score can do justice to how phenomenal this is. If you haven't seen it, go watch it this instant. If you have seen it, go watch it again. You'll be glad, I promise.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2008) 55
I see lots of movies. Quite a few. Enough to make me think I'm past the point of ever seeing another movie that'll have me gaping at the screen, thinking "WTF" for its entire duration. Repo! The Genetic Opera almost effortlessly convinces me I'm so fucking wrong about this. I have to qualify that 55: this is not a movie I could ever give a straight-up score to. It's not. It wouldn't work. I'm only taking a guess at this, but that final score appears to be an average: if I gave this an 85 for sheer entertainment value and a 25 for how good it really is, that'd just about even it out. This movie is terrible. It's so goddamn bad. But it's entertaining as shit. Go watch it, and I defy you to take your eyes off the screen for even a moment. You won't be able to. So, er, I really don't know what to say about this. It's an instant cult film, for sure (like many have said, it's like the lovechild of Rocky Horror and Sweeney Todd by way of Blade Runner ... and it's got Paris Hilton in it). Am I glad I saw it? Er, well, yeah. Would I watch it again? Er, well, yeah. So I guess, technically, that makes me part of its cult. But I really, really, really don't want to think that way. If you've seen this, you know what I mean.
Revolutionary Road (Sam Mendes, 2008) 68
About ten years ago, Sam Mendes directed a little suburban relationship drama called American Beauty. Remember that one? Wasn't the happiest film ever, was it? Well, now he's gone and directed Revolutionary Road, another suburban relationship drama that successfully makes his prior Oscar-winner feel like a rollicking good time by comparison. Man, this is a harsh, harsh movie. I'm not going to deny it's very well done (the performances in particular are stellar, and I'm banking on Kate Winslet finally winning an Oscar for her work here), but it's nothing I would want to subject myself to ever again. You see it once, you get the point; you've seen what there is to see. You see it twice, you're really just engaging in masochistic behavior. By this token, Revolutionary Road falls into a curious class of film: one that if done well will be depressing, but one that if not done well will still be depressing. Thank god it's done well.
Seven Pounds (Gabriele Muccino, 2008) 47
Ick. Contrived, saccharine blah. It doesn't do anything you don't expect it to, and doesn't do any of these expected things interestingly (it attempts a nonlinear editing style to try to conceal the "big twist," even though we the not-stupid viewers basically have it figured out within 15 minutes). The only legitimate surprise is that it features what may in fact be the single most ridiculous scene involving a jellyfish I have ever watched. But you have to sit through, like, 95% of the movie before you get to that. Which is to say: not worth it.
All right. Three movie roundup posts under my belt. I think I've successfully convinced myself that I am, in fact, going to maintain this stupid thing like I said I would. (Ha, watch it die now. Though really, I like this format. I'll be keepin' it up. Though with school ... yeah. The updates'll be slower comin' and all that, but no worries. The day I stop watching/loving movies will be the day I die, and I don't anticipate that day for quite some time. And with that, I am outta here. Adios.)
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Movie Roundup: 1/8/09
Whoops. I hadn't meant to go so long in between updates. But here I am again, new year and all. Whee. Same deal as last time. The scale's still the same, the orange still means I had seen the film before, and so on. Let's go.
The Scale
90-100: Blissful, orgasmic cinema. This is something extremely special.
80-89: An excellent, unmissable film. I probably own this (or will) and you should, too.
70-79: A very strong film well worth seeing.
60-69: This is good. It has some problems, but it's still an enjoyable piece of work.
50-59: The gray area. Certain things work about this, other things don't. It depends on mood and taste.
40-49: A mediocre or lackluster film. There's nothing offensive about this, but it's just very uninspiring.
30-39: Plain bad. Don't go near this, please.
20-29: Incredibly terrible. Only worth a viewing if self-torture is desired.
0-19: Hooooo mama.
Better Luck Tomorrow (Justin Lin, 2002) 84
Wow, this was excellent. I saw it for the first time when I was in high school and remember liking it then, but I seriously wasn't prepared for how well it holds up. If anything, I liked it even more the second time. I finished it feeling shaken, nerves rattled. Even though it's all pretty understated and frequently very funny, there's something rather disturbing at work here, and it gives the film a darkness I find difficult to describe. Maybe it's because I can relate to the characters way too well: the "we have everything, so now what?" mindset was frighteningly relevant during high school. Not only is it easy for me to see their motivations for doing what they do, it seems inevitable that everything in this film should happen just the way it does happen. The damn thing just works really, really well; I'm incredibly grateful for it (and the things that might annoy people -- for instance, the complete lack of adult authority figures like parents, teachers, and police -- are the things I consider among its greatest assets). The blurb on the DVD case chooses the three best possible words: funny, sexy, scary. In equal measure. A great film and, given a few more viewings, a potential favorite. (If I'd seen this when it came out and you'd asked me, I would've said Justin Lin was an extremely promising filmmaker. As it turns out, he's responsible for the more recent Fast and the Furious movies. Sigh. I guess a man has to decide between making art and making a living, doesn't he?)
The Day the Earth Stood Still (Scott Derrickson, 2008) 32
I finally have a definitive answer: "Klaatu barada nikto" is, in fact, extraterrestrial for "really fucking bad remake." Words can hardly do justice to how atrocious this truly is. The only reason I'm springing for the 32 instead of anything lower is because John Cleese, no matter how small of a part, is a badass. But the rest of this is trash. Keanu Reeves gives a performance that probably would've been thrown out of a Keanu Reeves impersonation contest for being too wooden, Will Smith's offspring is constantly annoying, and Jennifer Connelly spends the entire time looking like she's wondering, "Wait a minute, I can actually act. What the HELL am I doing HERE?" Oh, and the story sucks. Nothing happens. Until the end, which isn't actually an ending because it doesn't resolve anything. Man, this was terrible.
Doubt (John Patrick Shanley, 2008) 72
All told, this was probably my 11th favorite film of 2008. In other words, this is the one that got screwed for inclusion on the illustrious best-list. So it goes. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that it's a very small film. That is, unlike Benjamin Button or Slumdog or any of the other late-year Oscar hopefuls, it seems to exist in its own self-contained universe. It doesn't have much to say about anything outside its bubble; it's strictly concerned with its characters. This isn't a bad thing, mind you; it just wants a bit for that all-encompassing "oooh, this is life!"-type universality that Fincher's film embodies. That being said, everything about the production is very good. I know the story is supposed to be open-ended and ambiguous about answering the central conflict, but in my mind at least there's very little "doubt" about which series of events actually occurred (and, to my way of thinking, the film works better this way). Just the way Shanley presents his characters (Streep in particular) really makes me opt strongly for one particular viewpoint. But hey, there are clues a-plenty for either interpretation. That's why it's called Doubt, you see. I could be wrong. But I don't think so. See it and decide for yourself. It's a good one.
Frost/Nixon (Ron Howard, 2008) 75
Yup, the central historical/political film of this particular Oscar season actually managed to make it onto my end-of-year Top 10 List. And if you scroll down to #6 in the next-most recent entry I posted here, you can read all about what I thought of it! (Except now you know the numerical score, too.)
Hero (Zhang Yimou, 2002) 69
Let me take a moment to set the record straight on this one: Quentin Tarantino did not direct Hero. In fact, the man had nothing whatsoever to do with it. He was just the go-to guy who put up the money for its American distribution (which, no doubt, we all thank him and his pocketbook for; the US was actually among the last countries this thing ever got released in!). In reality, it was directed by Chinese filmmaker extraordinaire Zhang Yimou, who probably in large part because of this film is undoubtedly one of Asia's most famous living directors. And while I still prefer both of Yimou's more recent martial arts excursions (House of Flying Daggers and especially Curse of the Golden Flower), it's impossible to deny this is a very good film. Few men have a sharper eye for the visually arresting and downright beautiful than Yimou, and every last frame of this thing is something I wouldn't be ashamed to hang on my wall. The he-said/she-said narrative is a bit of a jumble and lacks any particular emotional resonance, but of course that's not really why you'd watch a film like this. It's purty, the fight scenes are awesome, and it holds up to repeat viewings. 'Nuff said.
Lifeboat (Alfred Hitchcock, 1944) 59
A clever idea, even if it does outstay its welcome a bit. See, there's only so much mileage you can get out of a trapped-on-a-lifeboat story (nevermind that Life of Pi is one of the best novels I have ever read), even when Hitchcock is captaining it. Somewhere in the middle, it feels like the film starts to repeat itself. It never becomes particularly tiresome or boring, as Hitch always has a few tricks up his sleeve, but it also had me wishing that things had been shaken up a bit more than they were. But it does still arrive smoothly at its very World War II message of "kill all the Germans" (or is that the message?), and not all is lost by the time the credits roll. (Also, this was apparently taken from a story written by John Steinbeck. Interesting. I guess he had a special fondness for the "slightly monotonous story about likable people drifting aimlessly in a vehicle" plot device.)
Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999) 63
Way back in the day (this must've been 2002 or early 2003, because I don't think I was even in high school yet), before I had seen many movies and was still young and impressionable, I saw Magnolia and pretty much thought it was the best thing ever. Oooohwow a super long movie with a crazy amount of characters and like seventeen intersecting storylines? The thing's gotta be a masterpiece. So it went. And now, older and more jaded, I sat down to watch it for a second time to see if it still holds up. Does it? Well, kinda. While by no means a bad film, it's definitely not the end-all cinematic miracle I seemed to think it was. For one thing, the length and scope of the deal masks the fact that each individual story is utterly flat. By putting them together, there is a sort of sweeping catharsis; separately, none of the stupid things really go anywhere. Also, paradoxically, the thing's too long. 188 minutes is a crazy epic length for any film, and unless you're Kurosawa or Coppola or something, that's just too long. By the end, the thing really starts to feel drawn-out. Still, it's one hell of an ambitious movie and it's hard not to give it credit for that. Anderson was only in his late 20s when he made the thing, and I'll be damned if I'm responsible for anything so impressive by the time I turn 30. Especially something with such a ballsy final act. Seriously, it rains frogs.
The Man Who Wasn't There (The Coen Brothers, 2001) 66
In which the Coen Brothers, whom I am convinced could successfully write and direct any genre of film, make the closest thing to straight-up 40s film noir that modern cinema has ever seen. Seriously, they've got this down to a science: the black-and-white cinematography, the atmosphere, the shadows, the dialogue; it's really something. In fact, it'd be just about perfect if the story didn't completely self-destruct by the end. For the first hour, the film feels like it's going to be incredible; Billy Bob Thornton is creepy, and the tension keeps getting built up quite skillfully. And then something happens. I don't know what. But the train derails, and it threatens to take the entire film with it. Luckily, a fair portion manages to stay on track and the film emerges overall as a strange but enjoyable anomaly. Few filmmakers would take it upon themselves to even make an homage to classic noir, much less construct a life-size replica of it. It just goes to show what the Coens are both capable of and willing to do. Predictably, it tanked at the box office. Oh well.
Sabotage (Alfred Hitchcock, 1936) 67
Very old-school Hitchcock doesn't really work as an engaging suspense tale (it's clear he hadn't hit his stride just yet, although the signs are definitely there), but is nonetheless a skillfully made and entertaining piece of work. It also proves once again that the man had an incredibly bizarre sense of humor, as when a meeting between two criminals is halted so that they can stare into an aquarium tank and remark that a tortoise looks like it has a mustache. It's also unusually short, which I suppose was customary for the time (what with those pesky film stocks and all), so that doesn't allow it a whole lot of time to breathe or create any lasting mood, but that's all right. It's a fun movie. Despite its central plot points of bombing and death, it's light entertainment. It's enjoyable to watch. Though armed with the knowledge that Hitchcock would spend the next 25 years making films that were far superior, I still liked it quite a bit.
The Spirit (Frank Miller, 2008) 36
If Sin City ever met the old-school TV Batman by way of Re-Animator, the result would probably be something like The Spirit, Frank Miller's ludicrously misguided comic book adaptation. It's awful in the same way Richard Kelly's Southland Tales was awful: it thinks it's really awesome and ambitious, but it's really just a hilarious trainwreck. And I qualify my use of "hilarious": it's not that the movie itself is funny. It tries to be, but it isn't. It's the fact that it thinks it's funny that makes it so damn funny. There's a big difference. Samuel L. Jackson hitting Gabriel Macht over the head with a toilet and screaming "TOILETS ARE ALWAYS FUNNY!" by itself is not amusing. However, the fact that Miller even put it into the movie is goddamn hilarious. See what I'm getting at? The movie is a long series of one WTF after another. It's so bad it almost works. Almost. Did I mention it also thinks it's a hardboiled film noir? Well, it does. And that, much like just about everything else in this movie, is a bad move.
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) 74
In large part because Danny Boyle is currently riding the gravy train with, in my opinion, the single best film in theatrical release at the moment (Slumdog Millionaire), I decided to go back and bust out his breakthrough film Trainspotting for the first time in a couple years. It's largely as I remembered it: a fundamentally character-driven, storyless, but consistently entertaining black comedy about heroin addiction and the terminal low-lifes who suffer from it. If that makes it sound like I'm ripping on it, I'm not. That's just an honest description. I like it quite a bit. It's a fun, stylish flick that I feel illustrates a particular lifestyle pretty well without having to go to the heart-wrenching depths of, say, Requiem for a Dream (even the most disturbing scenes here, such as Renton's in-bedroom detox, have nothing on the last act of Aronofsky's film). Not to mention its soundtrack, studded with the likes of Lou Reed, New Order, and (especially) Underworld, is just plain awesome.
The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky, 2008) 63
Honestly, if the credits (and hype) hadn't told me that Darren "Pull Out All the Stops and Then Some" Aronofsky directed this, I would've had no clue. Compared to films like Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain, this thing hardly seems directed at ALL. It's very minimal, but that's good. It's what the film calls for. There's really not too much to say about it: born loser one-trick pony spends 105 minutes realizing he's a born loser one-trick pony and that, no matter what the stakes, he has to stand by that trick. There's your whole movie, right there. For what it is, it works. It's a bit thin, but then it doesn't try to do all that much. The Oscar Hype Machine is working overtime for Mickey Rourke, whose sure-to-be-nominated performance is definitely the reason to see the film (at the end of the day, though, I still greatly prefer Sean Penn's work in Milk and Frank Langella's lauded turn in Frost/Nixon). That, and -- genre differences aside -- it's still a hell of a lot better than The Fountain. Just sayin'.
I'm enjoying these posts. I'm pretty sure you can expect them to keep happening. They're fun. Later.
The Scale
90-100: Blissful, orgasmic cinema. This is something extremely special.
80-89: An excellent, unmissable film. I probably own this (or will) and you should, too.
70-79: A very strong film well worth seeing.
60-69: This is good. It has some problems, but it's still an enjoyable piece of work.
50-59: The gray area. Certain things work about this, other things don't. It depends on mood and taste.
40-49: A mediocre or lackluster film. There's nothing offensive about this, but it's just very uninspiring.
30-39: Plain bad. Don't go near this, please.
20-29: Incredibly terrible. Only worth a viewing if self-torture is desired.
0-19: Hooooo mama.
Better Luck Tomorrow (Justin Lin, 2002) 84
Wow, this was excellent. I saw it for the first time when I was in high school and remember liking it then, but I seriously wasn't prepared for how well it holds up. If anything, I liked it even more the second time. I finished it feeling shaken, nerves rattled. Even though it's all pretty understated and frequently very funny, there's something rather disturbing at work here, and it gives the film a darkness I find difficult to describe. Maybe it's because I can relate to the characters way too well: the "we have everything, so now what?" mindset was frighteningly relevant during high school. Not only is it easy for me to see their motivations for doing what they do, it seems inevitable that everything in this film should happen just the way it does happen. The damn thing just works really, really well; I'm incredibly grateful for it (and the things that might annoy people -- for instance, the complete lack of adult authority figures like parents, teachers, and police -- are the things I consider among its greatest assets). The blurb on the DVD case chooses the three best possible words: funny, sexy, scary. In equal measure. A great film and, given a few more viewings, a potential favorite. (If I'd seen this when it came out and you'd asked me, I would've said Justin Lin was an extremely promising filmmaker. As it turns out, he's responsible for the more recent Fast and the Furious movies. Sigh. I guess a man has to decide between making art and making a living, doesn't he?)
The Day the Earth Stood Still (Scott Derrickson, 2008) 32
I finally have a definitive answer: "Klaatu barada nikto" is, in fact, extraterrestrial for "really fucking bad remake." Words can hardly do justice to how atrocious this truly is. The only reason I'm springing for the 32 instead of anything lower is because John Cleese, no matter how small of a part, is a badass. But the rest of this is trash. Keanu Reeves gives a performance that probably would've been thrown out of a Keanu Reeves impersonation contest for being too wooden, Will Smith's offspring is constantly annoying, and Jennifer Connelly spends the entire time looking like she's wondering, "Wait a minute, I can actually act. What the HELL am I doing HERE?" Oh, and the story sucks. Nothing happens. Until the end, which isn't actually an ending because it doesn't resolve anything. Man, this was terrible.
Doubt (John Patrick Shanley, 2008) 72
All told, this was probably my 11th favorite film of 2008. In other words, this is the one that got screwed for inclusion on the illustrious best-list. So it goes. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that it's a very small film. That is, unlike Benjamin Button or Slumdog or any of the other late-year Oscar hopefuls, it seems to exist in its own self-contained universe. It doesn't have much to say about anything outside its bubble; it's strictly concerned with its characters. This isn't a bad thing, mind you; it just wants a bit for that all-encompassing "oooh, this is life!"-type universality that Fincher's film embodies. That being said, everything about the production is very good. I know the story is supposed to be open-ended and ambiguous about answering the central conflict, but in my mind at least there's very little "doubt" about which series of events actually occurred (and, to my way of thinking, the film works better this way). Just the way Shanley presents his characters (Streep in particular) really makes me opt strongly for one particular viewpoint. But hey, there are clues a-plenty for either interpretation. That's why it's called Doubt, you see. I could be wrong. But I don't think so. See it and decide for yourself. It's a good one.
Frost/Nixon (Ron Howard, 2008) 75
Yup, the central historical/political film of this particular Oscar season actually managed to make it onto my end-of-year Top 10 List. And if you scroll down to #6 in the next-most recent entry I posted here, you can read all about what I thought of it! (Except now you know the numerical score, too.)
Hero (Zhang Yimou, 2002) 69
Let me take a moment to set the record straight on this one: Quentin Tarantino did not direct Hero. In fact, the man had nothing whatsoever to do with it. He was just the go-to guy who put up the money for its American distribution (which, no doubt, we all thank him and his pocketbook for; the US was actually among the last countries this thing ever got released in!). In reality, it was directed by Chinese filmmaker extraordinaire Zhang Yimou, who probably in large part because of this film is undoubtedly one of Asia's most famous living directors. And while I still prefer both of Yimou's more recent martial arts excursions (House of Flying Daggers and especially Curse of the Golden Flower), it's impossible to deny this is a very good film. Few men have a sharper eye for the visually arresting and downright beautiful than Yimou, and every last frame of this thing is something I wouldn't be ashamed to hang on my wall. The he-said/she-said narrative is a bit of a jumble and lacks any particular emotional resonance, but of course that's not really why you'd watch a film like this. It's purty, the fight scenes are awesome, and it holds up to repeat viewings. 'Nuff said.
Lifeboat (Alfred Hitchcock, 1944) 59
A clever idea, even if it does outstay its welcome a bit. See, there's only so much mileage you can get out of a trapped-on-a-lifeboat story (nevermind that Life of Pi is one of the best novels I have ever read), even when Hitchcock is captaining it. Somewhere in the middle, it feels like the film starts to repeat itself. It never becomes particularly tiresome or boring, as Hitch always has a few tricks up his sleeve, but it also had me wishing that things had been shaken up a bit more than they were. But it does still arrive smoothly at its very World War II message of "kill all the Germans" (or is that the message?), and not all is lost by the time the credits roll. (Also, this was apparently taken from a story written by John Steinbeck. Interesting. I guess he had a special fondness for the "slightly monotonous story about likable people drifting aimlessly in a vehicle" plot device.)
Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999) 63
Way back in the day (this must've been 2002 or early 2003, because I don't think I was even in high school yet), before I had seen many movies and was still young and impressionable, I saw Magnolia and pretty much thought it was the best thing ever. Oooohwow a super long movie with a crazy amount of characters and like seventeen intersecting storylines? The thing's gotta be a masterpiece. So it went. And now, older and more jaded, I sat down to watch it for a second time to see if it still holds up. Does it? Well, kinda. While by no means a bad film, it's definitely not the end-all cinematic miracle I seemed to think it was. For one thing, the length and scope of the deal masks the fact that each individual story is utterly flat. By putting them together, there is a sort of sweeping catharsis; separately, none of the stupid things really go anywhere. Also, paradoxically, the thing's too long. 188 minutes is a crazy epic length for any film, and unless you're Kurosawa or Coppola or something, that's just too long. By the end, the thing really starts to feel drawn-out. Still, it's one hell of an ambitious movie and it's hard not to give it credit for that. Anderson was only in his late 20s when he made the thing, and I'll be damned if I'm responsible for anything so impressive by the time I turn 30. Especially something with such a ballsy final act. Seriously, it rains frogs.
The Man Who Wasn't There (The Coen Brothers, 2001) 66
In which the Coen Brothers, whom I am convinced could successfully write and direct any genre of film, make the closest thing to straight-up 40s film noir that modern cinema has ever seen. Seriously, they've got this down to a science: the black-and-white cinematography, the atmosphere, the shadows, the dialogue; it's really something. In fact, it'd be just about perfect if the story didn't completely self-destruct by the end. For the first hour, the film feels like it's going to be incredible; Billy Bob Thornton is creepy, and the tension keeps getting built up quite skillfully. And then something happens. I don't know what. But the train derails, and it threatens to take the entire film with it. Luckily, a fair portion manages to stay on track and the film emerges overall as a strange but enjoyable anomaly. Few filmmakers would take it upon themselves to even make an homage to classic noir, much less construct a life-size replica of it. It just goes to show what the Coens are both capable of and willing to do. Predictably, it tanked at the box office. Oh well.
Sabotage (Alfred Hitchcock, 1936) 67
Very old-school Hitchcock doesn't really work as an engaging suspense tale (it's clear he hadn't hit his stride just yet, although the signs are definitely there), but is nonetheless a skillfully made and entertaining piece of work. It also proves once again that the man had an incredibly bizarre sense of humor, as when a meeting between two criminals is halted so that they can stare into an aquarium tank and remark that a tortoise looks like it has a mustache. It's also unusually short, which I suppose was customary for the time (what with those pesky film stocks and all), so that doesn't allow it a whole lot of time to breathe or create any lasting mood, but that's all right. It's a fun movie. Despite its central plot points of bombing and death, it's light entertainment. It's enjoyable to watch. Though armed with the knowledge that Hitchcock would spend the next 25 years making films that were far superior, I still liked it quite a bit.
The Spirit (Frank Miller, 2008) 36
If Sin City ever met the old-school TV Batman by way of Re-Animator, the result would probably be something like The Spirit, Frank Miller's ludicrously misguided comic book adaptation. It's awful in the same way Richard Kelly's Southland Tales was awful: it thinks it's really awesome and ambitious, but it's really just a hilarious trainwreck. And I qualify my use of "hilarious": it's not that the movie itself is funny. It tries to be, but it isn't. It's the fact that it thinks it's funny that makes it so damn funny. There's a big difference. Samuel L. Jackson hitting Gabriel Macht over the head with a toilet and screaming "TOILETS ARE ALWAYS FUNNY!" by itself is not amusing. However, the fact that Miller even put it into the movie is goddamn hilarious. See what I'm getting at? The movie is a long series of one WTF after another. It's so bad it almost works. Almost. Did I mention it also thinks it's a hardboiled film noir? Well, it does. And that, much like just about everything else in this movie, is a bad move.
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) 74
In large part because Danny Boyle is currently riding the gravy train with, in my opinion, the single best film in theatrical release at the moment (Slumdog Millionaire), I decided to go back and bust out his breakthrough film Trainspotting for the first time in a couple years. It's largely as I remembered it: a fundamentally character-driven, storyless, but consistently entertaining black comedy about heroin addiction and the terminal low-lifes who suffer from it. If that makes it sound like I'm ripping on it, I'm not. That's just an honest description. I like it quite a bit. It's a fun, stylish flick that I feel illustrates a particular lifestyle pretty well without having to go to the heart-wrenching depths of, say, Requiem for a Dream (even the most disturbing scenes here, such as Renton's in-bedroom detox, have nothing on the last act of Aronofsky's film). Not to mention its soundtrack, studded with the likes of Lou Reed, New Order, and (especially) Underworld, is just plain awesome.
The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky, 2008) 63
Honestly, if the credits (and hype) hadn't told me that Darren "Pull Out All the Stops and Then Some" Aronofsky directed this, I would've had no clue. Compared to films like Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain, this thing hardly seems directed at ALL. It's very minimal, but that's good. It's what the film calls for. There's really not too much to say about it: born loser one-trick pony spends 105 minutes realizing he's a born loser one-trick pony and that, no matter what the stakes, he has to stand by that trick. There's your whole movie, right there. For what it is, it works. It's a bit thin, but then it doesn't try to do all that much. The Oscar Hype Machine is working overtime for Mickey Rourke, whose sure-to-be-nominated performance is definitely the reason to see the film (at the end of the day, though, I still greatly prefer Sean Penn's work in Milk and Frank Langella's lauded turn in Frost/Nixon). That, and -- genre differences aside -- it's still a hell of a lot better than The Fountain. Just sayin'.
I'm enjoying these posts. I'm pretty sure you can expect them to keep happening. They're fun. Later.
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