enicholson Reviews

Hail, Caesar! (2016)

A Serious Man in Hollywood

[7/10 · 16 July 2016]

Two rough but swell religious interpretations of this film follow below! Both were written on message boards section for this film. The first is by someone named Komarovski:

"I enjoyed the movie's wacky look at Hollywood of the era, but I don't think it was meant to be the focus. Audiences can't be faulted for looking only at and being disappointed by the comic relief, though, as that is how the movie was promoted in the trailers.

After the opening scene, the words "A Tale of the Christ" wipe onto the screen. We are then immediately shown Mannix to make the connection. Mannix shepherds a vast world populated with sinners, but who ultimately create good. He stands over bickering religious leaders, growing frustrated at their interpretations. Mannix considers his worst sin to be smoking, so it's no wonder the Devil, a head-hunter from Lockheed, tempts him with a cigarette as they meet in a very red restaurant. Mannix is offered an easier path, but one that leads to destruction rather than creation. To me, Mannix's struggle with which path to take is the crux of the movie. It is only after seeking his Father's advice that the decision is made.

Other elements of note are the demons (the blacklisted writers) who have stolen away Baird, one of Mannix's flock. Ultimately, the angel Hobie brings Baird back to the fold, while we see one of Mannix's truly lost ones pulled down into Hell (or the Pacific Ocean, as it were). The wayward son Baird is welcomed back, but when he extols the virtues of his captors, he is sternly punished with a regretful slap. Humbled Baird resumes his role in Mannix's creation, though Baird again shows he is not perfect when he forgets "faith.""

The next interpretation is written by someone named DaliParton, in response to Komarovski above:

"I saw it completely differently. I thought Burt Gurney (the guy who boards the submarine) was the Christ and the writers were his 12 disciples (seems safe to say they were all jews too). They made Gurney look like an old-timey-Hollywood version of the Christ - buff, blonde, blue-eyed and noble. I took him getting on the sub not as going to hell but as going to heaven, and dropping the suitcase of money as a nod to 1 Timothy 6:7 "For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it." Jesus was pretty much a straight-up socialist after all - the one and only example of him getting violent was when he thrashed the moneychangers and merchants in the temple - and the USSR was supposed to be a workers' paradise.

Also I thought Mannix was to Autolochus as Schenk is to Caesar - a "roman tribune" in the studio system ruled by a dictator. When Clooney comes back preaching the gospel of socialism, Mannix beats him like the way the Romans treated early christians.

Unrelated to all of that was DeeAnna Moran - the scheme to adopt her own child is basically a 'virgin birth.' Also her name is an anagram for "Naree Madonna" which is a little bit of a stretch with Naree instead of Mary, but if you said it outloud no one would notice the difference."

Pretty nice work by Komarovski and DaliParton. Hedda Hopper might not have liked these write-ups but Barton Fink might have. Now Mannix is a busy man. He's got to get back to Capitol Pictures' still in production "Moses and the Burning Bush" starring Baird Whitlock as Moses and Hobie Doyle as the bush.

The Pact (II) (2012)

Minor Masterpiece of Modern Horror

[8/10 · 24 October 2014]

Wow, this little horror film impressed me.

I actually liked a lot of the ambiguities in this film. I liked the fact that a handful of things are left unexplained -- that the film works for your interpretation rather than only offering explanation. Many films do this badly, but it worked for me here. And the premise -- some kind of unexplained "pact" between the girl's mother and her brother -- is very original and rather disturbing.

Mostly, the talent of the director to make a quite scary film out of nothing more than a small Southern California suburban home -- that's refreshing. Sure, in some sense the film is too ambitious in that it wants to be both a ghost story and a story about a serial killer. Also some of the "ghost" images (the image in the cop's digital camera of the ghostly hand pointing at the wall) are a bit too much. But the film is so well made it makes you forget its flaws.

I can see a lot of hardcore horror fans not liking this film because the film takes its time. It doesn't hurry us. Good ghost stories are like this -- which is why it is all the more bizarre and jarring when the climax of the film has nothing to do with a ghost or spirit. I suspect this film will be more appreciated by the casual horror fan or suspense fan or just film buffs in general than a lot of hardcore horror fans. This is a pretty scary film, and most horror films these days aren't really scary -- they're just startling, grim or gory.

I don't watch that much recent horror, but I think I understand why this one did not get a lot more attention. I think it's because distribution for well made truly independent films these days is poor. Back in the day an independent horror film this good would have gotten lots of press and good distribution. Now it's just some newspaper and radio reviews no one notices and then to Netflix. I think the stature of this film will only grow over time.

The Dictator (2012)

Sacha Baron Cohen is too good for this...

[6/10 · 22 May 2012]

This movie is pretty funny at times, but it's a bit just too conventional for Cohen and it's not very well directed. The jokes should be funnier, the comic timing is off (early in the film especially), and the grossness veers into Adam Sandler land. Actually, that's a bit of an insult to Adam Sandler since You Don't Mess With the Zohan is not only funnier than this film, but as a satire Zohan is maybe more mature and politically pointed.

Sacha Baron Cohen is a brilliant guy, but this film is rather middling and comes off as kind of rushed. The jokes sometimes work, but sometimes they seem like they were probably funnier on paper. Other things are just kind of head-scratching (like the perverted ambassador from China; now a perverted IMF boss from France would have been funny).

Worth seeing but maybe save your money and get it on Netflix. Speaking of Netflix, better movies along the same lines are Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator and Woody Allen's Bananas. Those are really funny and very unique films about "dictators". The Dictator has its moments, but I guess I expected more from SBC.

The Ghost Writer (2010)

Polanski's genius is not enough to turn flawed material into a great film...

[7/10 · 23 February 2010]

Polanski is in top form here. In terms of pure film-making craft, Polanski has never really done too much better than this, but unfortunately the material he's working from, though well done on many levels, ultimately doesn't wash.

1. Why would Professor Emmett go to such lengths to conceal from the ghost writer his relationship with the former Prime Minister when a) he has a photo of them together hanging on his wall, and b) later, at the end of the film, he allows himself to be seen publicly chatting with Mrs. Lang (herself a former agent) at the book release party? Anyone visiting his home or attending the book party (who also uses Google) could easily make a connection between Emmett and Lang, not just an overly curious ghost writer.

2. We're supposed to question that Lang has a natural taste for politics on the notion that all Lang really wanted to do in his Cambridge years was party and chase girls (like politicians never party and chase girls); yet we're not supposed to question that he had a natural taste for espionage? JFK got more girls than James Bond, so I'm not sure what Lang's interest in politics relative to spying says about his skirt chasing. Based on what is presented to Ewan MacGregor in the film, he doesn't find any hard evidence that Adam Lang was in the CIA. Only Emmett's suspicious denials(this guy was a spy?), which he displays right away when MacGregor visits him at his house leave any kind of tell that Emmett is hiding something. If Emmett just admitted he was once friends with Lang, then MacGregor wouldn't have anything on him. I could have easily had a good friend in college who was CIA without me knowing about it. But denying that I knew him at all would reveal I was hiding something. Emmett's behavior doesn't wash. His character is poorly written -- too much of a bumbling fool to be a believable CIA agent.

And realistically, if an English Oxbridge student wanted a career in intelligence, why would they bother with the CIA and not just go to work for MI5 or MI6 or some other British intelligence service? Anyway, so the ghost writer discovers Lang had an American CIA pal from his days at Cambridge. Professeor Emmett not only acts like a complete fool to one of Lang's ghost writers, but two of them! (the first one gets killed when presumably Emmett acts like a suspicious idiot in front of him too) This is what is especially hard to swallow about this movie. When did CIA agents start to so easily give themselves away, yet remain so able to rule pull the strings of the universe?

3. Though Lang clearly has much bigger problems with the International Criminal Court than with any rumors of CIA connections, we're supposed to believe that he, his wife and Emmett are able arrange for the murder of meddling ghost writers merely because they became suspicious a) Paul Emmett once worked with the CIA and b) also knew Adam Lang. Well, assuming Paul Emmett knew dozens of people in college (probably more than most students if he was active in theatre and other campus activities), are we also to presume everyone else he knew at Cambridge must have had CIA connections too? Give me a break.

4. Finally, this film has a great ending, but am I really supposed to believe that Emmett and Mrs. Lang can arrange for people they don't like to be run down by a car only minutes after giving the order? The genius of Roman Polanski can make flawed stuff like this play well, really well. But the flaws are still there. As fun and suspenseful as this film is, the B-movie underlying material here just isn't up to Polanski's level.

On another note, as I think others have pointed out, it's interesting to watch a film about a famous man essentially exiled in America, while Polanski himself is exiled out of America (and Britain for that matter). Yet, Polanski gets nabbed in Switzerland of all places. I guess Truth is much more fascinating than this kind of half-baked fiction.

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

If Only The Nazis Had Been this Stupid...

[6/10 · 8 January 2010]

...aka The Mostly Offscreen Basterds ... aka Those Gloriously Multilingual Europeans ... aka 101 References to G.W. Pabst

Seven things I learned from this film:

1)Don't Let The Englishman with the Bad German Accent Do the Talking

2) Don't Pretend You Can Speak Italian at a Paris Movie Premiere

3) Nazis Should Always Supervise French Projectionists

4) Nazis Speak Better English Than Brad Pitt Speaks American

5) Nazi Propaganda Films Are Almost as Violent as This Film

6) I Didn't Know Mike Meyers Could Do a British Accent (Oh Wait, I Did)

7) Brad Pitt is Good When He's Silly

FYI, note to Terrorists: if Obama and his entire cabinet ever attend a movie premiere in Islamabad, this is how to handle things.

In spite of its stupidity and absurdity, and its uber-nerdy film references (wait, nitrate burns 3 times faster than paper? how fascinating) I still more or less enjoyed this film. The film has a few really good (perhaps great) scenes (loved the intro, loved the card game and dug a couple other scenes too). I guess that's a tribute to the talent of Quentin Tarantino, who is on his way to becoming the greatest underachiever in film history.

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)

This film could be remade -- again....

[3/10 · 7 March 2006]

ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13 is essentially a remake of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (and also RIO BRAVO and I'm sure some other less memorable films too). Only here we have gang members while in NOTLD there are zombies. Here the gang members try to invade a police precinct in a Los Angeles ghetto, while in the other film the zombies try to invade a rural farmhouse. Unfortunately, the zombies in that film are far more believable than the street thugs in this film -- and so is everything else.

Personally, I think this film is an insult to street gangs. In real life, they are not this stupid, evil or violent and they sure as hell have a lot more personality in real life than they do here (so do the zombies in NOTLD). If I were in a street gang, I would be complaining to someone (perhaps the Anti-Defamation League) that this film unfairly smears street gangs as being racially integrated Goldilocks killers. And the gang members here look more like a pastiche of the Symbionese Liberation Army, the Black Panthers and Che Guevara look-alikes than the Crips or the Bloods. They look like they should be quoting Trotsky and Mao and singing and dancing to the music of "Hair" and "Pippen" as they attack the precinct (perhaps I am being unfair toward the "thug" fashion of a different era, but I don't remember street gangs looking much like the guys in the 1970s except in low-budget movies; maybe I should do a Google image search).

But the real problem with this film is that it is not exciting. It's just poorly directed, perhaps because of what must have been a minuscule budget. The action is slow and predictable, the direction is poor and over-staged, and the story is laughably contrived (interesting how there is a power-outage just as the gang members attack). Some of the characters could have been interesting, but ... they aren't. They just have forced, annoying one-liners. No characterization -- just actors speaking lines. Some of the actors are pretty good, while others are really bad. Also, the muscial score (if one could call it that) is terrible. It sounds like 12 year old kid doodling on a synthesizer. John Carpenter went on to direct some very good genre-thrillers later on (especially, of course, HALLOWEEN and THE THING), so I'm guessing he was still learning his craft here.

NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is far more interesting than this film because it has a strong sense of irony, has stronger characterization, it has a striking and very creepy visual style to it, and it is better paced. And because it deals with the supernatural undead (instead of a street gang that resembles the undead) it therefore leaves more to the imagination of the viewer in terms of emotion, psychology, politics, metaphor, etc. In short, NOTLD is genuinely cinematic, whereas ASSAULT is just a throwaway drive-in film with bad special effects and boring stock characters. NOTLD will stay with you because the images are so iconic (or iconoclastic) and unusual and you'll wonder what it might mean. This film stays with you just because it is a weird combination of laughably gratuitous violence (the 70s was THE decade for this), pessimism, nihilism and crap film-making.

There are some good things about this film, mainly the strong concept, some decent acting, and one particular scene that features two death row convicts playing "potatoes." Apart from that, this film is most missable. If you are a fan of 1970s cult films, you can do much, much better than this one. If you are a fan of bad 1970s cult films, then this one is for you.

I haven't seen the remake of a year or two ago, but it doesn't sound promising. Too bad Abel Ferrara isn't doing much these days. He would have been perfect to remake this film in to a better one. Robert Rodriguez could do a lot with the same concept too, though he already made the decidedly similar FROM DUSK TILL DAWN -- a much better and much more fun film. Perhaps Quentin Tarantino, Takashi Miike, John Woo, Luc Besson or even Steven Soderbergh could do a good film using the same concept.

The Boys of Baraka (2005)

Can't remember that last time I saw a documentary this good...

[10/10 · 23 January 2006]

I'm sure someone will find some obscure flaw to this film, but how or where I'm not sure. BOYS OF BARAKA is not just great, it's one of the most important documentaries I've ever seen about American life -- and life in general. Even the comparable HOOP DREAMS seems rather slight compared to this great film. I hope the filmmakers make a follow-up film about 3, 5 or 10 years from now. And I hope some of these kids get to go back to Baraka, either as students, visitors or teachers.

Since I need 10 total lines to make a review, I'll just say:

Go

See

This

Film!

It Should Happen to You (1954)

A lot of heart and humor, but a missed opportunity to be sure...

[7/10 · 30 September 2005]

Mild spoilers...

This is a good film, but it suffers from a kind of showbiz hypocrisy, and it features some flawed characterization. Judy Holliday is great as Gladys, the average girl from upstate who aspires to be somebody. And Lemmon is good (though somewhat miscast) as her friend Peter, an (aspiring?) documentary filmmaker.

The problem with this film is that though it does have a good deal of ironic awareness about it, it ultimately does not have enough. The film cleverly views and studies the ambitious Gladys through the eyes of a filmmaker, Peter (filmmaker studying an "actress" within a the context of a Hollywood satire). But though the film (through Peter) is ultimately critical of Gladys -- and Gladys comes to accept who she is for herself -- the film is never critical of Peter, perhaps because his character is never developed in a way it should be. Peter is hardly a character without flaws, but the film doesn't seem to want the audience to notice this. Perhaps the writer and filmmakers did not want the audience to think about the character of Peter too much. They just want the audience of this film to think of Peter as a surrogate director who is also "directing" Gladys (or at least trying to, and the comedy partly comes from his failure to do so). But the film would have been much more successful if it had also treated Peter -- his life, his ambitions, his obsessions, his art, etc. -- as a subject worthy of study as much as Gladys (or if not as much as Gladys, at least more than he is presented). Surely Peter's desire to be a filmmaker could and would be a subject worthy of comparison to Gladys's desire to be "somebody." And even if Peter has no serious desire or ability as a filmmaker, then his desire for Gladys (either as a sincere, genuine lover -- or as a creepy stalker) could also have been much more developed to compliment Gladys's story.

And this gets to the heart of the problem of Peter's character. Who is this guy? How and why does he come to live in the same apartment building of Gladys? By filming Gladys and turning her in to the subject of a self-indulgent "documentary," does Peter have Gladys's interest at heart any more than Peter Lawford's character (the oh-so-smooth, handsome, wealthy, advertising exec)? The film nicely sets up an interesting contrast between Gladys's two suitors: one a poor, straight-talking documentary filmmaker; the other a slick, smooth, very dubious Madison Avenue executive. But the film does not successfully convince us, the audience, that Lemmon's character is really that much better than Lawford's character. Sure, Lawford has all the trappings and moves of a creep, but in a film about one woman's weird quest to climb the ladder of New York City society and showbiz fame (as presented in this, a Hollywood film), it's very difficult to judge Lawford too much more harshly than Lemmon. Sure, Lawford plays the game better, but at least he didn't move down the hall from his object of desire like Lemmon did -- without an explanation. And he doesn't creepily keep a photo next to his bed -- like Lemmon does (though maybe this kind of attention was more acceptable in the pre-feminist 50s than it is in our stalker-obsessed times). And because of the way he overplays the character here and there, Lemmon sometimes comes off as a manipulative jerk (maybe still unknown Walter Matthau, a charming crank if there ever was one, could have played this character better?). The film doesn't shed any light on Lemmon's dubiousness here, but Lawford's dubiousness is exposed from the very first time we see his character. In this sense the film misses an opportunity because it lacks irony and suspense and does not treat its characters fairly. It is too straightforward and predictable when it could have presented Lemmon's character -- even Lawford's too -- as more complex characters than the film does in fact present them.

Also, the film judges the human desire for ambition too harshly -- especially when you think about this film as being created by Hollywood smack in the middle of Hollywood's heyday -- the 1950s. If Hollywood people (Lemmon, Holliday, Cukor, etc.) aren't ambitious, then who is? Where does Hollywood get off making a film critical of wacky ambition? (though of course Hollywood's audience is middle-America, so Hollywood does frequently have to contradict its own sense aggression here and there -- though it's rarely successful when it does). This film is best when it treats the character of Gladys with affection and bemusement -- and when Holliday shows off her wonderfully charming sense of humor. The film is weakest when Lemmon blows up at her folly in a way in which we, the audience, are supposed to accept their arguments as some kind of sitcom entertainment. But (apart from the argument on the staircase, which is well-staged and amusing) these blow-ups are neither funny nor convincing, probably because they feel like perfunctory entertainment, as though the characters were already Ricky and Lucy or the Honeymooners -- and these arguments never have any real consequences for their still platonic relationship. Furthermore, far be it from Lemmon, a documentary filmmaker who goes around filming people all over New York all day without much purpose or idea of what he is doing, to tell Judy Holliday what to do with her money and her idea to plaster her name all over New York.

Despite my criticisms, this is a charming film definitely worth seeing. Judy Holliday is a treasure in this film. However, if only more studied attention had been devoted to Lemmon's character, Peter -- and if only the film did not come down so hard on Gladys's wacky ambition (through Peter's flawed, judging eyes) -- this could have been one of the best romantic comedies ever made.

The Great Silence (1968)

Not bad, but wildly overpraised...

[5/10 · 29 September 2005]

Ending spoiler...

The best thing about this film is that it is different from other westerns that preceded it. But being "different" doesn't mean it's necessarily very good. Klaus Kinski makes a great villain (as usual), Ennio Morricone wrote a great score (as usual), and the snowy setting creates a raw, forbidding, almost surreal atmosphere. This is one of those films where the mood and setting IS the star of the film.

But this film is just too silly, with characters that are laughably over the top (yet take themselves oh so seriously), and a story that's rather run of the mill (apart from the ending, which is unusual to say the least). Unlike in this film, the great thing about the Leone westerns is that the characters in his films are also rather over the top, but the characters have a sense of humor about them whereby the film acknowledges their often cartoonish unreality. Leone's films have a self-conscious irony and sense of humor about them. But here there is a studied seriousness that feels out of place with the unbelievable hero and villain in the film. Silence is an interesting character, but his muteness leaves him with the inability to make the kind of wisecracks Eastwood was capable of making in Leone's films. You want to run up behind Silence and tape a "kick me" sign on his back. Only Klaus Kinski's character has the disarming humor badly needed in a film like this.

Also, apart from Kinski, the acting in this film is not so good. The actress who plays the woman who hires Silence to kill Kinski is beautiful but so wooden. Her presence alone hurts the film greatly. The sheriff is also miscast with an actor who commands little respect and has less charisma. Trintignant, who plays silence, is pretty good. But he is given a character who is initially unbelievably skilled as a gunfighter, but then at the end of the film he is so unbelievably inept. Silence uses no caution in how he leaves himself open to get gunned down before he even has a chance to draw his gun -- with badly injured hands at that. The ending of this film is praised for challenging the conventional ending of the average western, yet it should be mocked and criticized for how it violates dignity, skill and character of Silence, the lead character in the film. As for Silence getting gunned down, it's not a bad way to end the film, but how could the writer and filmmaker let him get gunned down so easily? Isn't this the same man that easily took out 3 or 4 men at long range in the snow at the opening of the film? How can he be so skilled at the beginning of the film and so inept at the end -- even if he is injured? He's The Big Silence for goodness sake. And why let Kinski's character live? Shouldn't they both die in the decisive battle? Shouldn't the message be that violence doesn't doesn't discriminate? It kills both good and bad? (as in Seven Samurai) Not only the good? (as in this film).

I'll tell you one thing. Eastwood would have never played Silence. He never would have died like an inept little insignificant twerp like Trintignant's Silence dies in this in this film. Sure, western heroes can die, but if he goes to fight then at least let him fight like the skilled gunfighter he is -- or let him get shot in the back by a coward (like Gregory Peck in THE GUNFIGHTER). Does evil rule the day? The way Silence dies in this film is the way certain somewhat politically charged filmmakers want to see western hero die. They despise or despair over the notion of heroism, so they simplify their films, or they violate the context of the film to make some sort of statement. Heroes die in the 60s, fine. But here the filmmakers feel the need to kill the myth of the western in a way that spits on their hero -- Silence. While they're at it, they kill the genre and kill their own film too. Too bad, really, since this film has some good things to recommend about it. By the way, the alternative "happy" ending included on the DVD is even worse than the original. Better to let everyone die -- good and bad.

Kikoku (2003 Video)

This is actually one of Miike's best films...

[9/10 · 22 March 2005]

Those who criticize this as a minor Miike films are missing the point of this film. This film should not be compared to the DEAD OR ALIVE films, ICHI THE KILLER or FUDOH or any of the hyper manga-style Miike film. Instead, KIKOKU draws from Miike's grittier, melancholic, more classic crime dramas like RAINY DOG, LEY LINES and BLUES HARP. In my opinion, Miike does this kind of film as well or better than the ones he best known for. These films are the ones that put Miike in the league with Kinji Fukasaku and possibly above Beat Takeshi -- and not really the manga ones.

I like this kind of film because it is so pure -- so classic in its crime fatalism -- like a great American noir of the late 40s or 50s or a great French gangster flick from the 30s. Like the other films mentioned above, at the heart of this film is an unlikely love story which makes up the eye of the deadly hurricane that is Miike's take on the violent Yakuza underworld. On the surface the plot is very similar to DEADLY OUTLAW REKKA, but while DOR is fast and fun, KIKOKU is the doomed, tragic version of that film. It's a more serious film that should be taken seriously as one of Miike's best -- and one of Riki Takeuchi's best as well.

Blues Harp (1998)

Not just a great Japanese crime film; but a great crime film of rare emotional depth with a classic story of love and betrayal...

[10/10 · 15 January 2004]

This film had a powerful impact on me. I'm still somewhat new to the yakuza film genre, but it immediately became one of my favorite films, perhaps my favorite Takashi Miike film I have seen so far.

It doesn't really compare to Miike's more famous films because it fits more neatly in to the yakuza and crime genres than Miike's better known stylized shocker exploitation yakuza/psycho films; however, it does have a good deal of the visual style, much of the blood and carnage and some of the blistering action we are accustomed to in Miike's films. And, like most Miike films, it has a cool intro. Also, like most of Miike's best films, it has the coolest and best acting (and actors) you are likely to see in any crime film. Like we have come to expect from Miike films, it has some great mafia boss characters and one or two characters that seem like they are from outer space (though here these eccentrics are more subtle and have less screen time here than in his more famous films).

I more or less liked Miike's well-known stuff like Ichi the Killer and Dead or Alive (especially DOA's first 10 minutes or so) and I especially liked Fudoh and Audition, but I have to say I prefer this kind of film more because it has so much soul and grit and it feels real. The story has a classic feel to it like something out of the more edgy film noirs or some of the best gritty 1970s crime/druggie movies. Unlike in most any other Takashi Miike film I have seen so far, you actually care about the lead characters in this film.

Of course I won't divulge the whole story, but I set it up below. The plot is a little bit complicated, though it is one one of the best stories I have ever come across in a crime movie (my set-up below doesn't do it justice). Don't read the two paragraphs below if you prefer to know as little about the story as possible.

STORY SET-UP

Story is about a young Okinawa drug dealer named Chuji who also works at a bar that features local Japanese rock and roll bands. But Chuji is also a gifted harmonica player, which he learned to play as a young boy out of loneliness and boredom while his prostitute mother turned tricks. While helping a young and ambitious yakuza named Kenji elude the capture of the gang headed by Chuji's boss, Chuji also incidentally meets a pretty girl who later becomes his girlfriend. She, as well as one of the leaders of one of the bands performing at the bar, encourages Chuji to play harmonica with his band. After only one performance, Chuji is instantly popular at the bar for his blues harp skills. His talent later attracts the attention of a record producer. It looks like Chuji might no longer have to deal drugs, but...

Kenji, the yakuza formerly on the run, rewards Chuji for his help at eluding capture and certain execution earlier. The two become friends -- though, unbeknownst to Chuji, Kenji's affection for him is more than just friendly. But because they each work for rival gangs, and because Kenji's yakuza ambitions exceed his status and his closeted homosexuality offends certain people close to him, Kenji's life is on the line, and Chuji obliviously and unwittingly gets tangled up in a yakuza battle way over his head.

END OF STORY SET-UP

Like I started to mention earlier, the story and characters have such a classic feel to them that I wonder if there are any classic noirs or 70s crime films with similar plots. If so, I'm curious to find out what they are. But I suspect the story probably feels so classic just because it is so good. Some Miike films are confusing, often deliberately so, and I usually appreciate his narrative haphazardness. But here, unexpectedly, we're treated to something of a classic crime tale. I know I am overusing the word "classic," but by the end of the film I felt like Charles Dickens could have written the same basic plot though in a very different style and different characters of course.

I want to call it a crime masterpiece; but I feel like it's a bit premature for me to make such a declaration since I need to see some more films first -- even more Takashi Miike films since he must be one of the most prolific directors in the history of feature filmmaking. But unlike most crime movies which often tend to be flashy and filled with a lot of attitude and crammed with forgettable action, this film has an emotional depth to it that most anyone can relate to (in addition to all the cool shoot outs, etc.). Many women would like this film too because there is a really good, and very simple, love story at the center of the film that is quite sweet; and the lead female character genuinely loves and devotes herself to Chuji as he does to her as well. This is how young love should be. This film busts the gut and excites the senses; but it also rattles the soul and pierces the heart. Many of the best Japanese filmmakers frequently seem to have a talent for combining on screen action and physicality with a depth of emotion and feeling that seems rare in filmmakers (and screenwriters) in other nations. Takashi Miike struts his stuff here in this regard. A film like this reminds me of why I love Japanese movies so much and why I think Japanese film in general is a treasure chest still waiting to be discovered -- maybe even by many Japanese people themselves as well.

I am not quite yet ready to call it a crime masterpiece. I at least need to see some more Takashi Miike films first. But damn if I really want to call it a crime masterpiece. Incidentally, it might even be a great story about love too. Nah - Takashi Miike couldn't be capable of a great love story even if it does have gangsters, guns and bullets. Could he?

21 Grams (2003)

Funky arthouse melodrama weakened by one-note characters...

[5/10 · 25 November 2003]

21 GRAMS is the most disappointing film I have seen in a while. It has a very crafty and engaging, layered narrative style and it has a pretty interesting story -- but there is something about this film that struck me as arthouse cliche while at other times contrived melodrama. Mainly, though the acting is quite good (especially Benicio Del Toro and Naomi Watts), the characters are not interesting. They are flat, with few fleshed out human traits, and they never say anything real or interesting. Instead they mostly quote scripture, cry, moan, shout, scream, complain, shrug, etc. They are there to quiver and cry and exist to hang the story on rather to live and breathe and seem real.

SOME SPOILERS FOLLOW

For example, Paul's (Sean Penn) courtship of Christina (Naomi Watts) is not only creepy and boring, but it feels contrived and hollow. Why does he wait so long to tell her that he is carrying her deceased husband's heart? What is the point of him following her around like some weird stalker? When he does reveal to her that he is carrying her husband's heart, it feels staged and false because the timing feels too on the money. His revelation feels like maximum melodrama -- an actor speaking to another actor. It's all there for effect.

As far as credibility factor is concerned: related to Paul's courtship of Christina, I found it somewhat hard to believe -- or at least a bit repulsive -- that Christina -- presumably a good, considerate person -- would insist on driving home from a bar completely stoned and drunk not long after her family got creamed by a hit and run driver. What's the point of making her character suddenly so unstable when after this scene she's never really so unstable or self-destructive at all again in the film? Again, Paul offering to drive her home just felt like a contrivance for the story -- yet he inexplicably keeps delaying telling her who he is. The cloying melodrama thickens. You can feel the whole project turning in to a soap opera despite the cool camerawork and layered storytelling.

Moreover, the scene where the doctor accidentally reveals to Paul that Mary (his girlfriend) once had an abortion is also unconvincing. If the scene is supposed to make us see the lack of a real, trusting relationship between Paul and Mary, it doesn't work. Instead it simply makes Paul seem like a phony -- a huge jerk; and the scene is just a writer's idea to make their relationship unworkable and on the skids. This whole scene feels like a device to get two characters in a movie script to break up -- rather than two real people to break up. If there is any deception here it's not the abortion in Mary's past but instead it's that we are lead to think Paul is an interesting, provocative person simply because he is a college professor with a bad heart who has a hard time quitting smoking. For such a supposedly smart, fascinating guy, he never says or does anything smart or fascinating. He simply walks around looking cool -- looking like Sean Penn. The one time he does sort of sound like a smart person with some personality is when he is having lunch with Christina and he starts muttering something vague and perfunctory about Fractals. But even then he just seems like he is trying too hard. Only Naomi Watts' great acting ability rescues the scene from embarrassment.

In fact, just about everything about all the characters in this film feel generic and perfunctory (somewhat more generous terms than "cliched" I suppose): the American working class characters are conservative, religious, drive pick-ups and wear shirts with American flag decals on them. The educated, upper middle class characters dine and chat like they are in a wine commercial. These characters exist to define their class and background and to act as vehicles for the story -- but they have hardly any identity beyond that. If Sean Penn seems interesting it's because he is Sean Penn and has the coolest hair in the history of movies, but he isn't believable in this role as a bedridden academic nor is he believable as selfish prick (at least not here).

Benicio Del Toro's character, Jack, feels the most real of all the characters in this film. But even he feels like some kind of representation or "type" -- another angry bad man turned religious good man. However, even though he feels typical in many ways, at least he is mostly sympathetic and somewhat fascinating. But his sidekick, the community preacher always shows up at next to him like some shrill guardian angel/evangelical golf caddy. Doesn't this guy ever have any quiet moments? Doesn't he have a life of his own? The way he forces himself on Jack is the way this film tries to force itself on to us, the hipster moviegoing audience. A lot of forceful attitude, but little personality. It all feels like acting, not living or being.

One last thought: haven't there been a number of films recently involving heart transplant patients and the relatives of the organ donor? It seems like it. I guess it's a great melodramatic premise with great thematic and emotional potential. But soon enough the melodramatic elements in this film began to feel routine. It's revealed someone has had an abortion, then later someone else is pregnant after such and such person, the father, just died. All of this without a hint of irony. I have to admire the director's strong sense of sincerity in this wound down age of cheap, cynical irony, but here the melodrama feels like a oft-repeated Catholic morality play emptied out in to the streets of white and blue collar America. A killer video style of editing and narrative layering provides a cool way to relate a decent melodrama, but the limp characters wallow and drown in all of these layers of crying, remonstrations, revenge plots and noisy pity for little reason other than exaggerated effect.

Dead or Alive (1999)

Cool, energetic action grounded in cop/crime genre, but undone by cartoonishness...

[8/10 · 5 October 2003]

some minor spoilers --

This is a tough film to talk about. On the one hand it has one of the coolest, most psycho-energetic opening sequences ever seen (all rollicking to a thrashing garage-metal soundtrack). The rampage of a montage that opens the film features a lot of death and depravity (ten foot lines of cocaine anyone? how about the homosexual rape scene in a men's room combined with a throat slashing? then there is another man who loses his dinner in a most violent way) so if this isn't your kind of thing, then stay away.

But this opening doesn't really give us a taste of what to expect as much as it gives us a crazy energy to contrast the slower, more dramatic crime/cop realism that fills up much (though certainly not all) of the rest of the film. The rest of the film isn't really a letdown as much as it is a curious series of strange, though often impressive and amusing (but sometimes disappointing) shifts in gears and tones. The main problem of this film is that, even though it's mostly enjoyable, it's strangely out of balance ("balance" is a topic of conversation that comes up a few times among the cop characters in the film when they discuss the relationship between the yakuza and the police). It's as though Takashi Miike tries to keep this film out of balance on purpose perhaps to screw with his audience -- and perhaps to create a film that is on the one hand a lot of fun but on the other hand grounded in the gritty realism, depravity and sleaze that post-industrial Japan seems to have accepted as being part of its character.

But just who is the audience for this film? Fans of extreme Asian cinema might be disappointed because they might feel slighted on the amount of gore, action and depravity in this film. It's there, but it frequently takes a second place to the cop/crime story and domestic realism. And also fans of crime and yakuza films might be disappointed because the film is so cartoonish at times, favoring silly, absurd, unrealistic action and violence that does not take the cop/crime/yakuza genre seriously. But then again this disequilibrium of urban criminal grittiness and music video cartoonishness also gives the film a unique quality. The film lets us take most of the characters seriously to a slight degree, though the main villain is mostly a cartoon. And we feel for no one in this film save the lead character -- and barely anything for him and only toward the very end of the film. Perhaps because we feel for really no one in this film, we are allowed to more easily accept the jarring changes and altering waves of style that flow through the film.

Ultimately, what one mostly takes away from this film is a sense of over-the-top action, stylistic mayhem and filthy depravity, but underneath this style there are a multitude of characters and situations that are so funky and quirky that one can not help but be amused and sometimes quite impressed by the range of voices and images Takashi Miike tries to present to us. Some examples: one scene shows a bunch of nameless drug traffickers on a barge inexplicably all eating bananas while one of them vomits from sea sickness; another scene features the young brother of the main villain at a university lecture on the decline of and changes in Marxism in the 20th century; yet another scene early in the film establishes how the main character's police chief boss has a love for flutes, which he plays on top of a building in the afternoon. This is all combined with other more quiet moments of dramatic realism such as the young five year old son of a police officer who doesn't like salty Chinese food, and two gang members who discuss what they want to do in the future: one wants to open a car rental dealership in Australia while another very weirdly thinks he will become a god. Also, there is an obsession in this film with the history of the Chinese in Japan -- as though we're supposed to take this film seriously in that regard (though it's difficult to take this film seriously on any level).

However, there is a good amount of perversity we would expect in a Miike film such as, you guessed it, bestiality and death by drugs and -- uh -- drowning in feces.

A weird tension comes about when all of this is set against the crazily entertaining action that ultimately, by the end, is too over-the-top. The ending, by trying to be too outrageous, ultimately insults our intelligence and leaves us feeling like we have to settle for a piece of bad Halloween candy as the dessert finale to a half-decent (though very strange) meal.

Fans of extreme cinema should check this out, but don't expect too much of it to be too extreme -- and accept its attempt to throw us off balance with it's unique mixture of grit, quirkiness and humor, despite the shortcomings in each of these areas. Expect some wild entertainment, but don't expect to be wholly satisfied. This is one of the most brilliantly and disappointingly inconsistent extreme Japanese films ever made. The sequel is not as outrageous, but it is more character-driven, somewhat more grounded and more satisfying.

Together (2000)

Possibly my new favorite film...

[10/10 · 30 June 2003]

I recently saw this film on an import DVD (it hasn't been released on DVD here in the states yet) after missing its small theatrical run here a couple of years ago. I think perhaps Ingmar Bergman is right about Moodyson. He is a young master. Though I have yet see Moodyson's other films, I was overwhelmed by the power of this film.

The film is about a group of counterculture types who live in a collective household called "Together" in 1975 Stockholm, Sweden. But they often struggle to get along because they have trouble finding and living with shared values and in some cases just don't like each other. Goran, the de facto head of the household, wants to please everyone. He wishes everyone would just get along. Any obstacle to group harmony is any obstacle to him as well. Elisabeth, the working class sister of Goran, one day is forced to move in to the household with her two children, Eva and Stefan, due to the breakdown of her marriage. Meanwhile, Rolf, her hard-drinking, abusive husband, struggles to overcome his devastation and loneliness over their leaving. Moreover, a boy who lives in a "proper" middle-class home next door to "Together" becomes attracted to Eva. This is the setup of a simple story with complex interactions. The story unfolds simply too, but in ways you don't expect because it is so unforced and natural. Like most great works of art, literature or filmmaking, it progresses and unfolds with a feeling of simplicity -- organic and lifelike.

Don't be fooled by the specifics on the surface. On the surface this film seems to be little more than a survey of the amusing antics of hippies from the 1970s. But this film is so much more than that for many reasons.

First of all, this film is a commentary on the adults of today as much as it is of the adults 1975. The reason I say this is because the emotional center of the story is with the two children of Elisabeth and Rolf: Eva and Stefan. By allowing us, the audience, to see most of the action through the eyes of two impressionable children suffering through the break-up of their parents' marriage in 1975, and struggling to adjust to their new environment of a collective, it soon becomes clear that this film is about us -- the children of the 1970s -- who are now in their late 20s up through the early 40s. The film is a look back through the eyes of a then child, now adult director of a time where nearly every value held by middle-class, western society and culture was challenged if not, in some settings, entirely uprooted. We are the children who grew up in this age of fantastic turmoil and upheaval -- which in Europe by the mid 1970s was probably even more tumultuous and radicalized than in the U.S. But of course it is also about the older generations who were young adults when all of this was happening.

Perhaps most importantly, however, it is for the younger generations who weren't even born at that time. I say this because the direction the world seems to be headed for today seems to demand a response of a sense of some type community that began to disappear in the late 70s and 1980s. Many kids and young people only know about a couple kinds of communities and families: gangs and step-families. A film like this provides a very modest hope, but at least some kind of hope.

The main characters who are children, Evan and Stefan, are looking for love, security and comfort at home, as all children do, but really can't find any of it save love, because the security and comfort of bourgeois, middle-class life was under this continual assault during the time period in which the film is set -- and continues to be assaulted to this day (though today often for different reasons). But meanwhile, next door, another child (I can't remember the character's name) must undergo a struggle of a different kind. He must endure the hypocrisy of his parents' loveless marriage, which carries on possibly out of habit, or possibly for the sake of appearances, or possibly a fear of loneliness -- or possibly all of these. The boy next door is aware and intrigued by the energy and liveliness of his strange next door, hippie neighbors, but he is mainly drawn to Eva, who is as much a misfit in her environment as he is alienated in his.

If Eva's struggle is to find a new identity away from the failure of her parents' marriage, her brother Stefan's is to find a new way to reconnect to his mother and his father -- especially his mother, Elisabeth. She is now free to live again away from her hard drinking, abusive husband; but this new experimentation with a new life is, at least initially, a threat to Stefan, who early on fears that his mother may be on the verge of abandoning him, and his sister whom he is not very close with, for this new lifestyle. Moodyson has a remarkable talent of rendering characters who on are the verge of losing everything -- who are suffering devastating ruptures in their lives but somehow find the strength to adjust, adapt and move on. The emotional core of these themes of great change, struggle and moving on are with the children in this film. But all of the adults struggle with major changes too. Moodyson focuses the camera most on the most heart-wrenched of the group of adults: Elisabeth and Rolf, and also Elisabeth's brother Goran, whose girlfriend is recklessly and desperately promiscuous. Thus the emotional core of the film is basic to human emotional desires and needs: the desire and need for love, and the fallout of loneliness, anguish and craziness when love goes awry and loved ones becomes irresponsible, reckless, or even dangerous.

But from the perspective of the collective, this film takes on another ambitious theme: the interests of the individual(s) versus the interests of the group. We see this almost immediately in the film when we are introduced to the characters who inhabit "Together," and this is where much of the comedy in the film comes from. Early on all of the housemates squabble not only about whose turn it is to do the dishes, but also whether doing dishes is even too "bourgeois" to bother with. Also, the tension of integrating Elisabeth and her children in to the group -- a tension which arises simply out of a reluctance to give up any more space to any newcomers -- is important to the underlying themes in the film. Elisabeth and her children badly need comfort and acceptance, but the children resist this new space of hippie "sharing" -- as though they believe it's a fraud in its weirdness for the sake of weirdness. And another area this film explores well within the theme of the individual vs. the group is that of sexual experimentation and promiscuity. Vital to preserving the group is tolerance of homosexuality and sexual openness, yet sexuality in a group setting can be as diverse as each individual that inhabits the group. And those who are most sexually predatory can leave lasting scars and bitter resentments. Homosexuality for some of the members in the group has lost its instinctual drive, and instead, as Lasse irreverently jests about toward his ex-wife, becomes just another form of political expression -- but also ultimately sex serves up a form of individual expression too. Sex gives the individual a greater sense of identity to the degree that that individual's sex life is so different from everyone else's -- whether it's a certain kind of homosexuality, a large number of sex partners, an odd choice of sex partners, etc. In other words, sexuality can define the group, but it often can threaten it too in that it too greatly exalts the conquests and exploitations of the individual.

But then again so can many other values can define or threaten a group -- many of which are shared and others which are not -- such as vegetarianism, television, consumerism, Marxism, etc. Tension is there throughout over various "doings" (or lack thereof) within the household, and these different areas are discussed and battled over through the characters to explore how the group succeeds or fails to define itself according to any given value. Erik leaves because he can not stand the group's softness when it comes to concern for the proletariat against the bourgeoisie enemy. Lasse makes fun of Erik to no end over what he sees as Erik's fundamental hypocrisy. Two other housemates finally leave when the children are allowed to bring hot dogs in to the house. Fundamentalism, the film suggests, destroys diversity, and therefore is a threat to preserving a successful group dynamic, even though fundamentalism may have the best interests of all at heart.

Tolerance, with some debate and disagreement, is the key to long term togetherness and diversity. Togetherness and diversity is a key component to happiness and a functioning group, the film strongly and convincingly suggests -- especially through its wonderfully simple games in the November snow.

This film also spoke to me in how it seemed to also evoke the countercultural revival of the late 1980s and early 1990s. Something about these hippies seemed neo rather than old school, but that's understandable in that total period authenticity just isn't possible. Political correctness vs. creative and individualistic irony and drive also felt like a major theme at work here -- even though no one in the film ever utters the term "politically correct" as it was not a term that was coined in the 70s. As a theme, as much as a term, such tensions are of the 1980s and 1990s as much as the 1970s -- if not a little bit more. Maybe this is more in my head than it is in the film, but I have to think that the countercultural aspects and themes in this film connect to a 21st century audience so strongly still not just because so many of us lived through the time period in which this film was set, but also because we continued to live out these kinds of issues up until the present day -- especially many of us who were kids in the 70s.

Interestingly, one thing the film really stays away from was central to the 60s and 70s counterculture: drug use and experimentation -- as though exploring this theme might infringe upon or distort the theme of drug and alcohol abuse -- which one of the characters, Rolf, battles in the film. But nearly everyone else in the film drinks too, so I'm not so sure. If drug experimentation at "Together" had been more explored in this film, it could have provided some more lively and funny scenes, but perhaps Moodyson didn't see the need either in terms of character or of theme. Instead, everyone pretty much drinks alcohol. Maybe drugs weren't as big in 1975 Sweden as they were in 1975 America. They were -- and for much of the population still are -- a religion in America.

If this film had been only about Elisabeth's dilemma with her children and her husband, or only about the collective itself, it would not have been nearly so strong. But Moodyson joins the two main stories and sets of characters masterfully to illustrate his themes. Moodyson introduces us to dysfunction in the family realm with Elisabeth and Rolf, and then moves us over to difficulties in the community realm with the collective "Together." By joining the two groups -- the family and the community -- in his narrative with such skill, wit and simplicity, Moodyson shows how the two need one another, can threaten and damage one another, but can also fill in for one where the other could be failing. In this film, it seems to be the community rescuing souls from the dysfunction of family more so than vice versa. Families break down, but the community can help restore some sense of order -- and can occasionally help restore families. Togetherness in the community arises where a lack of togetherness in the family is most needed, yet togetherness in the community requires a sense of shared responsibility and industry to go along with the friendship and nurturing.

The film suggests that not all forms of togetherness are ideal, but togetherness in general is essential -- and that debate and discord are an important part of maintaining and discovering what makes the group work. The film also strongly suggests that intolerance and recklessness, in the long run, leads to loneliness, anguish and despair. It's been so long since I have seen a film I could relate to with such ease. My sincere thanks to Moodyson for such a heartfelt, hilarious, painful, genuine film.

Gangs of New York (2002)

Sergio Leone meets Charles Dickens in wild west/victorian/medieval New Yawk...

[30 December 2002]

I'm not sure if this is a great film, but it is a blistering, forceful, insanely ambitious one. Generally speaking, the story itself contains conflicts and tensions familiar to just about any epic of any kind: of tribe against tribe, poor against rich, and of impassioned youth out to usurp corrupt elders. But it isn't the nature of these conflicts which makes this film so astounding. This film's powerful originality instead comes from its wild rendering of a mid-nineteenth century New York context, centered on the slums of the "Old Brewery," that presents striking flourishes of historical details set against hazy Manhattan mythology. It's this crazy juxtaposition of people who really lived (i.e. Boss Tweed and Horace Greeley) and stuff that really happened (i.e. the Draft Riots) squaring off against Scorsese's immense cinematic (and literary) learnedness and imagination that has cooked up this pastiche setting that feels part Sergio Leone (and not Ford or Peckinpah) western and part Dickens social allegory. It's also obviously so damn original because I can't think of a single other film that has taken on the subject of New York gangs in the 19th century.

But does this Leonean and Dickensian feel (among other "feels"), mixed with fact and myth, seem authentic? I'm not sure I care. I like this postmodern feel of presenting the past in clearly established style(s) and tropes of the medium(s) -- which is hardly new. But this is very different for a director like Scorsese, whose signature films to date have generally felt as authentic and immediate as a mugging in Times Square (I mean the old Times Square, before Giuliani cleaned it up for us tourists).

This Leonean feel of "Southern Italy meets America" (sorry, but this film feels much more Italian than Irish) in the form of vicious survivalism and vengeance within an impassioned Dickensian 19th century urban consciousness of tribe and class is the thrust behind this simple story of Irish boy versus "nativist" mob boss. It's not at all the story itself that stands out. Instead it's the vivid setting and all the every day junk that goes on there. I think Scorsese -- and of course Daniel Day Lewis -- pull it off brilliantly.

The importance of Daniel Day Lewis' presence in this film can not be overstated. The man makes the film work as much as Scorsese's gifts as a director do. Lewis is phenomenal. By the end of the film DiCaprio suffers in his presence. Other posters have complained about the casting of Leonardo DiCaprio in the lead role, and I am inclined to agree that the request of his services is rather uninspired (fiery overachievers like Matt Damon or Colin Farrell would perhaps have fit the bill better), but Leo is not bad in the film. At times Leo is very good; it's just that it's hard to suspend disbelief when Leo is required to be a gang leader to a gang that rivals that of Bill the Butcher.

There are some other flaws as well -- mainly in the script. The romance between Leo and Cameron seems a bit tossed in -- here paying a greater homage to the Dickensian love interest over Leone's (and Scorsese's) usual universe of killers and broads. But I find a flaw like this almost charming -- as if there is a sentimentalist in Scorsese that is more willing to show itself, even if it is a little awkward in its footing.

SOME MILD SPOLIERS:

By the end the draft riots have exploded in a grand vengeance. The lead characters lose their way and their identity as the mob and the military moves in; the individual leads are wiped out as the people of New York overtake the setting. A brutal story gives way to even more brutal history. These selfish, vicious, vengeful characters fade into a fog of violent Manhattan legend and the film becomes as murky as the tradition of tales that inspired its making in the first place. I think this is part of the point of Scorsese's film: that if we choose to live in our times concerned only about ourselves and our immediate gripes and hatreds, then, as a people, we can only become part of a corrupt body or be part of a deadly mob. While other filmmakers romanticize the murderous the individual gangster and outlaw, Scorsese prefers to crush him with some kind of angel of vengeance, here in the form of deadly riots (TAXI DRIVER was an exception, where the murderous protagonist was himself the angel of vengeance).

Scorsese seems to have become a great historical (and mythical) filmmaker without anyone even noticing it. Beginning with RAGING BULL, and carrying through with GOODFELLAS and CASINO and now GANGS OF NEW YORK, -- all true stories or based on true stories -- Scorsese is now one of our greatest historical filmmakers. But can he continue to make films like this which also are so reliant on myth, and on the play of genre(s), and on firmly established traditions set down by other directors and writers over the past century? Who knows? It's nice to see him go back to this 19th century Manhattan again -- to someone else's place -- and this time take it out to his turf -- the streets.

Bowling for Columbine (2002)

A great film -- but with at least one flaw

[7/10 · 21 October 2002]

First of all, let me point out where I think this film is flawed. BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE almost exclusively focuses on gun violence in America as it stems from or relates to "white" America -- with very few exceptions. That means there is nothing in this film about drug violence, gang violence and the gun culture within urban, "non-white" America. Much of the firearms murders during the mean drug wars of the 80s, 90s and today are/were "black on black" homicides and other homicides within the context of urban (and suburban) organized crime. BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE never once touches on this subject, which is unfortunate. And it leads me to believe that Michael Moore is rather uncomfortable relating examples and statistics of firearms murders committed by anyone other than Caucasian Americans (there is a funny scene early in the film where Moore has to write the word "Caucasian") -- as though it were somehow politically incorrect or mildly reactionary to touch on the subject of the very obvious gun culture within the cultures of American organized crime as well as in the culture of non-white ethnic groups (in other words, the gun culture that is far removed from the likes of Columbine and the Michigan Militia).

I think Moore stayed away from the subject of non-white gun violence because it could perhaps undermine his quasi-thesis that all or most gun violence in American is somehow the result of a deep racially-motivated psychological fear that can be traced from the pilgrims, to the slave holders, to the westward pioneers, etc. He seemingly arrives at his semi-theory through process of elimination. But to imply that there is a separate problem (though perhaps related in certain ways) of firearms violence in America that does not involve white people scared to death of non-whites or other types of strangers would perhaps challenge Moore's semi-theory more than he would like. Michael Moore is well known for wearing his left of center views on his sleeve, which is of course why it's rather surprising to learn from the film that Moore is a member of the NRA. He does a remarkable job at building a case that it's a culture of fear of the non-white man that creates this obsession with guns and over-abundance of killing, yet clearly there are thousands of murders in the U.S. every year that are committed by non-middle America, non-rural, non-suburban, non-whites. So why do black criminals, Hispanic criminals, or criminals from other non-white populations kill with guns? What "fear" do they suffer from? Do they fear other non-white homicidal criminals? Moore, as fearless as he is, seems to fear touching on this issue. Could it be that there is a culture of greed that arises from the business of organized crime that also parallels this culture of fear that perhaps is not really part of organized crime? I think so. I think Moore had more than just an opportunity to explore the gun violence in urban, organized crime; I think he had somewhat of a responsibility to explore this too. But he doesn't. And I can only guess it's because this issue somewhat challenges his quasi-thesis of "white fear."

But despite my criticism that I have offered so far, I have to say that this is a great film -- easily one of the best documentaries I have ever seen. It's debatable as to what kind of documentary this is. Is Moore some kind of "satirical documentarian?" His skill at interviews, his pithy observations, his wit and his desire to confront and shock are tremendously on the money. And Moore's skill at getting just about any human being to be candid and say what's really on their mind is amazing. This film is not only hilarious and disturbing, but it is also tremendously moving. I was practically in tears when the film showed the miserable poverty in Moore's hometown of Flint, Michigan. He is tremendously skilled and passionate when it comes to shining the spotlight on the underclasses, the forgotten, the downtrodden and those people and problems in America most of us wish would just go away. Moore refuses to let us ignore these problems, and he relates them with such a genuine compassion that it is impossible not to be moved. And he exposes the selfishness and the disinterestedness of the privileged (and well armed) with such effortlessness that it is impossible not be amazed, shocked and outraged.

The film works partly because it shows Moore exploring and struggling to come up with the reason or reasons why Americans are so homicidal with firearms (as opposed to our well armed, but less murderous, Canadian neighbors to the north). Moore tries to find an answer or answers -- and he does come up with a theory -- but he implies that his theory may not be the only theory or that it may not be absolutely correct. As Moore irreverently points out in the film, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold liked to bowl, and bowling was the last thing they did before they murdered a dozen or so students and teachers at Columbine High School. So could bowling have been the cause of the Columbine massacre -- any more than Marilyn Manson or easy access to guns? Hence the title BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE.

But the film is also a kind of a broader expose on the culture of violence and misery that is unique to American culture. Interestingly, the film briefly essays the culture of violence in American foreign policy -- and how from time to time the U.S. government has, openly and secretly, had a policy of military aggression in many troubled spots around the world. Moore does not explore the history of these conflicts at all, but instead implies that culture of violence within everyday America and the culture of violence used by the American political establishment overseas is related. It isn't complete (nothing about this film is) but it is effective, informative and revealing.

But, as I stated already, I think this film is somewhat flawed -- because it does not explore or reveal quite enough. Well, actually, I think it's incomplete. Now Moore needs to go out and make the sequel: BOWLING FOR THE MAC DADDY or BOWLING FOR GANG BANGIN'. He could start with my neighborhoods here in LA and Venice Beach.

The Reflecting Skin (1990)

Fails to shock, disturb or reveal...

[3/10 · 3 October 2002]

If you watch THE REFLECTING SKIN closely (or even not so closely) you'll notice that it sucks. This is a film that tosses in bits and pieces of imagery and motifs that might have come from American/Southern gothic sources like Sam Shepard, Flannery O'Connor, William Faulkner, David Lynch, Anne Rice and Tobe Hooper (and others) -- but it fails to make its world seem the least bit vital or interesting. All we are left with are pseudo-disturbing characters and bits of imagery that don't want to fit together: the cliched townie puritans and religious fanatics, a dead baby, an English neighbor nearby who may or may not be a vampire, an hysterical mother with a husband who is a repressed homosexual, and most strangely there is a group of greaser murderer/pedophiles who drive around almost completely unnoticed in a shiny black Plymouth. This narrative is all led by a 9 year old protagonist boy named Seth Dove (and his stock set of small town friends) and his older brother Cam (played by Viggo Mortensen) who just returned from fighting the Japanese.

Not much really happens in this film except that there is a lot of yelling and menacing looks. Seth runs back and forth between the different characters and locales as though he were attending exhibits at the Yakpanatwa (sorry about the spelling) Country Fair for Southern Gothic Cliches. Occasionally he or one of his friends runs around draped in an American flag. Hmmm -- this must have some sort of deep meaning. But who cares about subtext when text is so boring and phony?

The film has some nice cinematography, which is what makes it tolerable to watch. But as it goes on you begin to realize that this over-emphasis on visual beauty is a kind of device to distract the audience from possibly realizing that there is nothing interesting going on.

Disparate stock characters and cliches from American gothic horror and southern gothic sources could be interesting if it all these elements were supported by a unique screenplay and guided by a gifted director (go rent Jim Jarmusch's DEAD MAN, which is not a great film, but a much better one that takes a similar approach to its material). But this writer/director unfortunately has little such skill in either department. The acting is mostly over the top (though many of the actors are good) and there is little suspense or mystery about the visual style and directorial approach. By trying to bombard the audience with style (especially the excruciatingly over the top orchestral and choral score) the director proves to have hardly any style at all.

One gets the sense that this director is not an American -- but for some reason felt compelled to try to say something deep and meaningful about America. One gets the sense that he doesn't really know these characters at all -- or the land they live on. Yet perhaps as a kid this director feverishly and fetishistically read and viewed materials about death, perversity and horror in the Midwest and Great Plains - and could only come up with a kind of Wisconsin Death Trip for Basic Cable. Nice try. Better luck next time.

Leningrad Cowboys Go America (1989)

"Have you ever heard of rock and roll?...Study 'dis book!"

[9/10 · 10 August 2002]

This is without question one of the greatest rock and roll movies ever made. It's sort of THE BLUES BROTHERS meets STROSZEK with some MOSCOW ON THE HUDSON thrown in. Aki Kaurismaki has to be admired for making this gutsy and crazy film. There is not much of the European "art film" here, nor is there any real serious social commentary or aesthetic stunts underneath the comedy here either. There is also no condescension toward America or Americans. In fact there is a wide-eyed, dreamy fondness for America, especially its messy landscapes that hug the interstates and its simple, likable working-classes (but definitely not its prick cops). Here we get to meet the immensely likable dreams, music and attire of the Leningrad Cowboys, the misunderstood, maligned, salt of the earth band that comes to America to live out its rock and roll dream. Personally, I simply admire the actors for driving around the American South wearing those fantastic mullet pompadour quiffs and pointy shoes. That takes guts.

Kaurismaki has a special fondness for characters with big dreams but little or misunderstood talent, who can scrape up just enough cash just get by. Here, as in his another of his great comedies, LA VIE DE BOHEME, there are some characters who are unambiguously untalented (in LENINGRAD COWBOYS: the singers; in LA VIE DE BOHEME: the composer) and there are some characters who have some or much, but quirky, or misunderstood talent (in LENINGRAD COWBOYS: the band; in LA VIE DE BOHEME: the painter). All of the performers and artists are immensely likable and amusing and their patrons and audience are just as suspect as they are in their taste, but great to be around nonetheless. Moreover, their detractors are cold, a-hole jerks.

Jim Jarmusch makes a funny cameo as a used car salesman. Matti Pellonpää, probably Kaurismaki's favorite actor, is hilarious as Vladimir, the band's beer slugging, tyrannical manager. I love the scene early in the film where he meets with the New York "cousin" of the Finnish talent scout (who also, by the way, has a "cousin" in Mexico). When the New York band booker tells Vladimir that he needs to hear the band play, Vladimir says, "Is that necessary?"

Anyone who loves rock and roll comedies, weird hairstyles and movies about little people with big dreams need to see this film. If you like Kaurismaki films then you may or may not like this film, depending on how square you are. I say check it out. I think it's one of the funniest films I've ever seen. But then again I have had some crazy hairstyles too.

I Stand Alone (1998)

The rage of a proud, bitter, luckless man

[9/10 · 21 July 2002]

This fearless film may or may not be a masterpiece, but there is little about this film that feels false or inauthentic. Many have already compared this film to TAXI DRIVER; but TAXI DRIVER is more of a film about a man that is dragged to insanity by psychotic fantasies he can no longer resist. TAXI DRIVER does, however, share with SEUL CONTRE TEUS a sense of psycho-sexual determinism. The protagonists in both films are at least partly driven by sexual compulsions they either can not control, feel they can not control or badly desire to explore. Both films have memorable scenes that take place inside a porno theater, emphasizing the dominance sex and sexual compulsions have over each of the protagonists (though for different reasons in each of them).

SEUL CONTRE TEUS, however, is less of a film about an inexorable pull toward insanity and instead is more of a film about an inescapable rage -- the rage associated with a fiercely guarded sense of pride that has a strong tendency of violence toward anything that appears the least bit insulting; and a rage that comes from endless feelings of loneliness. The protagonist (known only as "The Butcher," which is his past profession) is consequently very vulnerable to feelings of humiliation and has little ability to make sound decisions in life. SEUL CONTRE TEUS is about the rage of those in the working classes that suffer the pain of a hard childhood, are punished for their crimes that mainly arise out of anger, and endure the humiliation of unemployment and unwantedness -- yet refuse to let the harshness of life knock them down for good. The Butcher refuses to lie down. He wants to fight back at whatever blocks his path. But, like an animal, he chooses his targets arbitrarily and impulsively. Those that he is most threatened by in reality offer little danger; and perhaps could instead offer friendship or even assistance.

The film features an astounding interior monologue that runs like an intensely embittered sermon (told through a voice over) throughout the duration of the film. Many of The Butcher's thoughts are intensely provocative and refreshingly, fearlessly insightful and profound. My favorite is probably the line that says (something like) "there is no revolution anymore; when we are all alone there is only revenge." Valuable lines like this are mixed in with incendiary rants against foreigners and homosexuals -- thoughts and emotions rooted in painfully stubborn pride and bitter humiliation, but which sometimes have the feel of some desperate, lost, apocryphal truth to them.

There are a couple of other qualities this film shares with TAXI DRIVER. For the most part, even though they are quite frightening, the protagonists in both films are sympathetic (though again for different reasons) and even charismatic. Also, both films have extremely violent climaxes that, thematically and psychologically, resemble the male orgasm gone psychotic. The conflation of sex and violence in both films is unmistakably real and psychologically (and perhaps politically) profound. Also, both films feature a twisted sense of redemption at the end (though I will say no more than that for fear of spoiling the endings of both films) -- twisted in the sense that there is a future and not all hope is lost; but it is a hope that is rooted in something unclean and false. I think most people will find the scene of reconciliation and redemption toward the end of SEUL CONTRE TEUS to be remarkably moving (at least until it turns into something perverse).

This film is not for everyone -- that's for sure. If TAXI DRIVER was more than you bargained for, then stay away from this film because this film is even more intense and brutal. But for those of you who desire, or even need, to see a film about the rage of a man who is disenfranchised and dispossessed and is driven toward fantasies and expressions of violence and perversity -- then here it is. This is for you.

Road to Perdition (2002)

A good film until it hits the road -- which feels like a lazy Sunday drive...

[6/10 · 19 July 2002]

I was disappointed with this film. To me it was like a gangster film produced and directed by Merchant and Ivory. It has some beautiful scenes, but as a whole the film was underdeveloped and somewhat spineless. It felt like an American gangster film directed by a British theater director (wait a minute -- it was!).

I liked the first half of the film the best. I thought we would be in for a film about inter and intrafamily conflicts represented by a good old fashioned mob war. I really liked the scene where Hanks goes to collect the bill at the nightclub and then discovers a surprise. This scene (followed by the scenes of Connor Rooney invading his house when only his wife and kid are home) had a fantastic tension found in the best Hollywood crime dramas. I was very pleased with the film up to this point.

But I gradually became more and more disappointed as the film turned into a movie about a father and son trying to salvage and rebuild their relationship with one another. This occurs in the "caper/road movie" second half of the film, which I found to be completely uninteresting in the context of a film about the Irish mob in Chicago. The plot suddenly moves away from the tension between Newman and his son, which is the more interesting story, and eases over to the sweet and easy "relationship drama" between Hanks and his son. The relationship is over-sentimentalized in a very contrived way -- possibly mainly in order to create an unassuming sense of emotional contrast to the rather sudden, though predictable outcome of the film. I also disliked the character of Hanks' son (and the performance of the young actor too). It had a generic boy "coming of age" quality to it.

Another contrivance that bugged me was Jude Law's taste for photographing dead bodies before the victims were truly dead. I thought this was interesting at first, when it seems this is an attribute given to Law simply to indicate what a psycho he is. But, at the end of the film, we can see this sick quality in Law's character is merely a contrivance that allows Hanks to reach for his gun one last time (I'll say no more as I don't want to spoil the ending).

Also, Hanks, as the film goes on, feels more and more miscast -- not because his performance isn't good -- but simply because he is Tom Hanks. This man -- a man who fingers the keys of piano with great sensitivity -- is a hit man? I thought Paul Newman was pretty good, but I also found him to be unconvincing in the film. When I think of "powerful Irish mob boss" I do not think of Paul Newman, and his performance in this film didn't do much to alter my prejudice.

There are certain scenes in the film where the director, Mendes, attempts to be more stylish than his talent warrants, and it is somewhat annoying. The scene where we first see Jude Law photograph a "corpse," Mendes attempts one of those multiple-cut pull back shot sequences (sorry, I don't know the correct film term) that Kurosawa was so famous for. When Kurosawa shoots something like this it feels powerful and evocative. Here, in Mendes' hands, it seems pretentious and awkward. Similarly, in another scene when Law's character is walking under a bridge, approaching the pov of the camera, Mendes attempts one of those reverse zoom dolly shots (again, I don't know the correct technical term) that Hitchcock invented in Vertigo and Spielberg used so well in Jaws. But, again, in Mendes' hands it seems like a dork trying to be cool.

I have to say I really liked the performances of the secondary actors in the film -- especially Daniel Craig as Newman's son, Connor Rooney. This actor, a cross between Ed Harris and David Carradine, really seemed like an Irish hood out of Chicago. Also, Stanley Tucci is excellent as one of Capone's underbosses in Chicago. Tucci is good at seeming both urbane and low class at the same time. And I liked Jude Law a lot -- mainly because his performances was so weird and unexpected.

What's my bottom line? This is a decent mob movie that is rather miscast and too pretty for its own good, and it has a good first half with a slow build up; but it suffers form a disappointing second half with a slow build down.

Ringu (1998)

The hatred behind the fear...

[8/10 · 20 June 2002]

Sam 3's comments below concerning "Noroi" and "On-nen" are fascinating, and, though I am certainly no expert on Japanese traditions of horror and ghost stories, I think his thoughts on the subject really touch on the power of this film. At the heart of RINGU is an overwhelming emotional presence of not only fear and dread, but also bitterness, hatred and humiliation. To me, the best horror films have a strong sense of meanness to them, as if the ghosts, undead, evil presence, etc. has a bone to pick and will pick that bone in the most uncompromisingly dreadful manner imaginable. In a film like RINGU, no quarter is spared in causing great suffering and terror on a victim, and we the audience must feel that terror and suffering in a manner of near osmosis.

This film reminded me of other films which had similar elements. The creepy video reminded me of the creepy pirate broadcasts in David Cronenberg's VIDEODROME. Also, the opening scene in RINGU is somewhat reminiscent of the powerful opening "Telephone" segment in Mario Bava's BLACK SABBATH (later homaged in SCREAM) -- though far more mysterious. And then there is the powerful theme of a (seemingly) innocent who seeks to cause great harm and terror -- a theme present in many of the greatest modern horror films such as THE EXORCIST, THE OMEN, THE BROOD, THE CHANGELING, etc.

All of these elements are combined successfully, not through a great story, but through the great talent of the director. In fact, the film's weakness is its highly contrived, overly complicated and occasionally silly plotting, which often drags and other times simply leaves you scratching your head. It's simply not that well-written. But it is written well enough for a talented director to create a highly forceful film with a visual quality disturbs in its uncomfortably suspenseful transitions and its genuinely disturbing visuals. This director has an extraordinary feel for simple visuals that are authentically creepy.

Much of the power in this film is, like in much of the best horror films and books, in its use of familiarity -- its use of everyday things. This movie makes watching TV and answering the phone scary. It makes reflections frightful. It scares us by intimating that the everyday has the potential to be something completely unknown and threatening. It implies that representations of horror and terror can creep into reality. The two dimensional recording becomes three dimensional and alive -- in all its meanest, most spiteful and evil manner.

Then there is an ending that is among the most memorable of any horror film ever made. Well-done. It made this jaded dude cringe in fear. The effect takes hold more after the film is over than when the film is playing, but I'll say that when it's playing it scares delightfully. Watch this film alone at night at your own risk, but please do not show this film to kids. It's too scary for children. They'll be up at night for weeks, if not months...

Donnie Darko (2001)

Donnie Dorko: or the freak from the future from the past

[5/10 · 26 April 2002]

Donnie Dorko is sort of a mess, but it's more like six or seven annoying student films crammed into one feature. It has an interesting beginning and finish, but the middle is frustratingly awkward and dull.

The best thing about the film is its premise and its impressive visual style. The weakest aspects of the films are its weak characterizations and acting, its phony late 1980's setting and overall bad scenes. It's kind of a riff on the play and Jimmy Stewart film HARVEY, about a man who has a rabbit friend he calls Harvey who of course is just a product of his imagination. HARVEY, however, is a comedy -- a good comedy at that. This film on the other hand, like an insecure teenager, takes itself way too seriously.

What really bugged me the most about this film was how horrible and unconvincing the high school setting was. I went to high school in the 80's, and this school in this film did not resemble any American high school that I have ever seen or heard of. This was supposed to be a private school? This had to be the single dumbest and most pathetic group of privileged white upper class students ever portrayed on film. These kids (especially the boys) would barely make it, academically, at Inglewood High much less at a privileged academy. At first, I thought it was supposed to be a reform school or military academy because all of the boys at the school were such violent-prone waste case losers. But with all the intelligent, well-behaved girls at the school you realize that it supposed to be some bogus co-ed private school.

The teachers at the school are even less credible than the students. Drew Barrymore gives the absolutely worst performance of her career as a self-absorbed English teacher. She also has one of the stupidest lines in movie history; when a new female student asks where she should sit, Barrymore utters, "why don't you sit next to the cutest boy in the class." My friends and I were openly making fun of the film at this point. Also, inexplicably, Noah Wyle agreed to take a part in this film at the nice guy teacher. Bad move. A furniture polish commercial would have made a better career choice. Then there is Patrick Swayze's character: a millionaire motivational speaker who seems to have nothing better to do than to hang around this Stepford Wives setting of numbed out teenagers. How did this man get so wealthy and influential? He's not convincing to anyone at all. The director wants us to believe Donnie Dorko is somehow enlightened, intelligent and well adjusted, when he openly insults Swayze's character at a high school assembly. Unfortunately, the only way the director can relate Donnie's intelligence and insight is by making all of the other characters in the film out to be complete idiots. Even Donnie's Harvard bound sister seems instead like she should be bound for Sacramento State University. Then there are Donnie's parents who are Republicans, but not disciplinarians. Of course Donnie would have emotional problems, because everyone else in Donnie's hometown is a figment of detached movie reality.

One scene that represented everything wrong with this film was the obligatory 80's culture discussion, which in this film is a discussion about the role of Smurfette in the community of the Smurfs. The discussion had no place in the film except that it served to make Donnie seem insightful, when in fact many kids in the 80's (or any other time) seemed to have much wittier and interesting discussions than in this film. No one in this film says anything funny or clever -- ever. There is no wit, no teenage recklessness or unabashed nuttiness. There is just Donnie and the community he comes from, in which everyone is dumbed down to make Donnie seem interesting.

What did I like about this film? I suppose I liked the bunny, the jet engine thing and the twist at the end. But I don't care to piece puzzle films like this back together. I'm not interested in what a film like this "meant" or "what happened" because a film like this is too pretentious to have any meaning or depth. Ultimately, what matters to me is whether I enjoyed the film while it was playing before my eyes. And in the case of this film, the answer is "no." There were too many scenes with no real tension or suspense and there were too many scenes that didn't need to belong in this film but were simply there to try to indicate that the film took place in the 1980's. By the way, I couldn't think of a single good reason this film needed to be set in the 80's. In fact, it would have worked much better if it were set in the present day, and it would have worked much better if the audience didn't know ahead of time that the film was counting down to Halloween.

Then there is Donnie himself, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, who unfortunately resembles a creepy, morose, dark haired version of Seth Green. I kept waiting for Dr. Evil to pop out of the bunny suit and say "shhh." Gyllenhaal is decent in the role, but he doesn't have much to work with except when the bunny is also on screen. Also, when he has visions, the visions are the most uninteresting creations of CGI effects. In other words, Donnie has visions of special effects.

On top of there is a whole time warp, portal dimension plot that belongs in another film. Then there is the mental illness aspect that seems to be the focus of the film and then suddenly disappears. There are simply too many movies, too much going on in this film -- more than this director has the talent and capability to handle. He needs to go back to film school take a course on Italian neo-realism. However, he does have talent as a director. He probably simply needs to grow up a bit and live life some more. There are some images in this film that are very striking. Strangely, the image that caught my eye the most was the image of the chandelier trembling over the stairway after the jet engine falls on the house. This was a very striking image -- perhaps because it contained what much of the rest of the film lacked: simplicity, tension and a feeling of strong emotion.

Mamma Roma (1962)

The shame and grace of a struggling mother and her son...

[10/10 · 7 September 2001]

Mama Roma, played by an amazing Anna Magnani, desperately wants a good, respectable life for her 17 year old son, played by Ettore Garafalo. She would do anything for him. If at one time she sold her body on the streets of Rome partly as an act of rebellion against a failed marriage of convenience, she now must resume the work to raise funds to pay off a threatening former pimp (played by the cool, charismatic Franco Citti), while raising a few extra lira to get her son a few nice things on the side. She implores a priest to help her son find a decent job and does a host of other things to try and get Ettore away from the life of a hood.

The problem is that her son is like she presumably was (and is still capable of being) -- a rebellious, angry child drawn to the street life. He also, almost instinctively, falls for a young whore who may or may not resemble his young mother.

This is a great film. Pasolini cares deeply for these characters. Are Ettore and his mother a Madonna and Christ as sometime prostitute and would be criminal? Perhaps. Though their sins are not necessary for their survival, their hardships and sufferings take on a religious, martyred quality. Mamma Roma is the lost, heroic sinner of the Italian lower classes who can sometimes struggle to better themselves through respectable work, faith and redemption. But she can't do enough for herself and her son by being virtuous, so she must turn to the street on occasion. And either due to his environment or his temperament, both products of his mother, Ettore, in all his youthful impatience and vigor, can't resist the effortless ennui and easy thrills of hanging out with petty hoods, stealing from whoever they can, and dallying around with a young whore.

Rome looks and feels like a prison in this film. The city feels walled off by apartment buildings, the entrance into which feels like the entrance into an ancient city -- perhaps ancient Jerusalem. Outside the modern buildings stand patches of ancient ruins. Ettore lives his life among these overlooked, neglected ruins, which perhaps foreshadow his own future. If this is to be his future it won't be because of a lack of love and effort on the part of Mama Roma; instead it will be because of the neglect of the prison of Rome, and because of his own wild, bitter heart; the heart of a boy for which Mama Roma would devote her life.

Arabian Nights (1974)

"The truth is not revealed in one dream, but in many..."

[10/10 · 29 August 2001]

This film obscures the boundaries between myth, dream and cinema, or rather, perhaps, it helps create a new kind of art altogether of the three. As tales of myth, the interwoven stories in this film act as lessons of love and heartbreak, collective dreams and fantasies of staggering beauty. Destiny is a major theme in this film, as though human beings all live the same lives, as though humankind's greatest desires and fears are gifts and curses from the gods -- the end residue remaining in the beauty and wisdom of poetry, spoken and visual. Are the concepts of fate and determinism the source of this mythical beauty? Perhaps. Maybe poetry and truth come from a resignation and surrender to forces which humans will never ultimately understand, but can only either submit to or try to battle. But fate is the result of chance and choice -- often hard, foolish choices taken in the chance encounter of beauty and dreams.

All of the episodes have something great to them: the story of Nur in search of his slave lover Zummuru; the story of the flighty, fickle Aziz and the true Aziza; the story of the artist trying to free is lover from the capture of a demon, etc. All of the stories are linked by the parable of the dove freeing the pigeon, only to become enslaved herself. All those who are free owe their freedom to the burden of some else's slavery and suffering, and someone else's great poetry and artistry. Could this be the truth revealed in many dreams? Maybe it's the main truth Pasolini strives toward; there must be others too.

Ennio Morricone has created some very beautiful music for this film. The harp strings overwhelm us unexpectedly when we first encounter the story of the pigeon and the dove. The settings are amazing, throughout Yemen, Ethiopia, Iran and other locations. Only Pasolini can get these kind of performances from his actors -- at once obvious and staged, while also unselfconscious and natural. The visual style is typical Pasolini, using only natural light.

The only other films I've ever seen that remotely resemble this one are the films of Jean Cocteau. Filmed myths of ageless beauty we can only stagger out of the theater upon viewing and at some point on the way home thank these masters for their hard choices and their slavery to art.

The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser (1974)

My favorite Herzog Film

[10/10 · 3 August 2001]

Even if this film had failed on the level of character or narrative (which it doesn't), I would still love this movie for its incredible imagery. The memory/dream sequences are haunting and will never leave my head. The opening shot of a field, long blades grass bowing under the wind to the music of Pachelbel, is extraordinary. And of course there's the performance of Bruno S, the most intensely hypnotic and genuine performance you will ever see.

But my favorite scene is of the impresario and the dwarf king and his kingdom. This is a true Herzog moment -- bizarre but somehow still a moment of striking epiphany -- the dwarf a parallel, isolated soul to Kasper's own isolated, lonely soul. The extremity and weirdness of moments like these seem commonplace and everyday in a Herzog film, and therefore somehow commonplace and everyday even in our own lives.