niktemadur Reviews

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)

The BBC miniseries was perfect, why this? Or so I thought.

[10/10 · 19 January 2014]

When I found out a film version of TTSS was coming out, I got angry. TTSS was already perfectly executed as a story by the BBC, I have the DVDs, Sir Alec Guinness was already perfect as George Smiley. Why cram and "Hollywoodize" a 2-hour version of something that was already perfect at 12 hours?

Then I saw the film and was astounded on every single possible level that matters. As of today, if I'm surfing channels and TTSS is playing, I put the remote control aside and joyfully watch this work of art over and over again.

Excellence. The best film I've seen since "The Lives Of Others" and "The New World".

Through the Wormhole (2010–2017)

Noble attempt, but hit-and-miss. Too many voices.

[7/10 · 28 January 2012]

All series on the topic of astronomy and cosmology must and will be measured to that watershed event of the early eighties, "Cosmos" by Carl Sagan, which left me with clarity of what we knew, and the relevant questions yet to be answered at the time.

A magisterial Morgan Freeman guides each episode by asking fascinating and timely questions, then allowing experts to answer them.

The result feels too all-over-the-map, sometimes patronizingly simple, then suddenly, as if taken for granted, skipping over crucial logical stepping stones in the explanation process. "Through The Wormhole" suffers from too many people with different verbal styles (and varying verbal skills) to follow a coherent thread of an idea from beginning to end, the way Mr Sagan did so masterfully back in the day.

Then there's a certain something Discovery Channel Influence, with episodes titled along the lines of "Is There A God?", which Mr Sagan would have found sensationalistic. And I agree with Mr Sagan.

Bottom line: As a passionate follower of astronomy since the early eighties, I watch "Through The Wormhole", but in 2012 I prefer my astrophysics/cosmology shows hosted by Neil DeGrasse Tyson, or Brian Cox.

Doctor Who (2005–2022)

Blew the mind of an uninitiated, long time sci-fi lover

[10/10 · 9 July 2010]

For as long as I can remember, I've heard about the good Doctor, references, inside jokes and the like. Such as "Real Daleks don't climb stairs, they flatten the building".

The quandary was this: Where do I begin, with thousands of episodes aired? I was afraid of getting myself into something deep, dense, voluminous and possibly repetitive, impossible to get back out of.

The very simple yet belated answer was, of course, by accident.

On one of those sleepless nights, flipping channels, I saw astronauts in a Victorian library, and was immediately intrigued by the weird homage to Kubrick. Before the commercial break, I was treated to electronic ghosts and invisible floating piranhas.

Then this absolute beauty comes up, I paraphrase - "You've been living in a computer simulation, your physical body is elsewhere" - "But I've been dieting"

Bleak, subtle and sophisticated humor? Check, and count me in.

As it turned out, I had stumbled into the middle of a Sy-Fy Channel short marathon of Doctor Who. I resisted going to sleep until the damn thing ended five or six episodes later, at ten in the morning.

What wildly imaginative premises, what a high-quality level of writing, what a gem this is! There is serious brain-power at work here, courtesy of the BBC yet again, on a continuing heroic mission to sacrifice short-term profit for long-term legacy. As evidence, I present "Monty Python's Flying Circus", "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy", "The Singing Detective", "Brideshead Revisited".

From what little I've seen in half of a short marathon, Doctor Who deserves a ten out of ten.

The Leopard (1963)

The thinking person's "Gone With The Wind"

[10/10 · 3 July 2006]

I have not read Giuseppe di Lampedusa's novel, but I have seen Visconti's semi-restored masterpiece and was utterly transfixed by it. In cinematic terms, it curiously serves as the background radiation to The Godfather Trilogy, as it represents the Sicily of the Andolini family, albeit from the royal family point of view. In fact, the sicilian sequences in The Godfathers I and II bear a striking resemblance to the Sicily portrayed in Ill Gattopardo, a supreme tribute by Coppola to Visconti.

Incredible but true, Burt Lancaster is picture-perfect as the tormented prince who deeply feels his mortality at age forty five, even as he struggles to keep his royal heritage alive for future generations in chaotic times, willing to make compromises his ancestors would have flinched at, which only makes our prince more royal.

The textures and nuances in Ill Gattopardo run constant and deep, the hand that directs them is as steady as a rock. Make no mistake, this is the work of an artist at the height of his powers, not caring if he puts half of us to sleep, probably even not caring if he hypnotizes the other half. If you want to see supreme confidence at work, you can do no better than Ill Gattopardo. Equal maybe, but no better.

Rumble Fish (1983)

Back to basics for Coppola is pacesetting for the rest of us.

[9/10 · 3 July 2006]

I screen movies at a local cultural center. Rumble Fish was the one a few weeks ago. After the show, one guy approached me to say he loved it, then mentioned how similar Rumble Fish was to Sin City. First off, I straightened his idea: Sin City is similar to Rumble Fish, not the other way around. Then I got to thinking. I've always loved Rumble Fish, but I've never thought about its' impact on later cinema, except Coppola's own Dracula.

Then Drugstore Cowboy popped into my mind (also with Matt Dillon, to boot). Pulp Fiction, Coffee And Cigarrettes, etc. My God, some of the most influential current cinema around has Rumble Fish all over it! And then, the music by Stewart Copeland (drummer for The Police) is fascinating and independent of its' time period (the early eighties) in every way.

I think that Rumble Fish is a timeless piece. Many people say that the plot is slow and repetitive, but that's not the point. Coppola gave himself the luxury of exploring other facets of cinema: Rumble Fish is an impressionistic piece, an attempt to capture life in some nameless town in a nameless midwest state, while always, the myth of California hangs over the heads of our heroes. The quiscentennial western myth, really, our hero Abram leaving Ur due west, where he became Abraham and fathered a nation.

When questioned in hindsight about his ability to direct The Godfather, Coppola answered that it was he who chose all the people to help him assemble the masterpiece. Excellent answer, one which is also apparent in Rumble Fish, a personal (as opposed to epic) masterpiece, but a masterpiece nonetheless.

Z (1969)

Still incredibly relevant after all these years.

[10/10 · 3 July 2006]

I screen movies every Wednesday night at a local cultural center. Having seen it twenty years ago and remembering next to nothing of it (I was way too young and distracted), I opted to wait until screening "Z" to see it again, along with the rest of the audience. Our collective response was that of buzzing astonishment.

Politically, "Z" is a sobering lesson in history and human nature. Cinematically, "Z" is mean and lean, with not a single ounce of excess fat. Brilliantly using the editing room as a weapon, "Z" is that rarest of birds, a defiant thriller raising its' fist in triumph at dictatorship, for the story will now be known to the world. Truth, and only truth, will always vex the tyrant.

Based on the 1963 coup of Greece by the political right wing, "Z" offers a clinical look at a democracy's tragedy unfolding before our eyes, at first in real-time as a confusing jumble of characters and events, then as a forensic process that builds a coherent jigsaw puzzle of events to an ultimately shocking double ending, leaving you firmly grasped by the throat even days after it's over.

"Important" is a label that should not be thrown around freely when talking about film, yet "Z", made forty seven years ago, is a real cry from a dark past, as timely now as it was then, as history may be in the process of repeating itself.

THX 1138 (1971)

Grape juice CAN turn into wine.

[9/10 · 15 July 2005]

It is fascinating to see a film go from being considered a curious box-office dud to a masterpiece in one's own lifetime, especially when that film made a deep impression on you when you were a (fan)boy.

From the first time I saw it, I knew THX was something special; much of the background noise that made Star Wars the magical experience that it was, for me, came from this source, this peculiar creature named THX-1138. Between then until now, I've read both Huxley's Brave New World and Orwell's 1984, which seem to be the main literary inspirations of THX-1138. Also, I've revisited THX several times, but I still wasn't able to decipher and fully appreciate it.

Then, the visually enhanced DVD version was released last year, and I was able to view THX in digital mode and with headphones, approaching as much as I ever will the vision George Lucas had in 1969 of how a film should be experienced.

Heartfelt congratulations to Mr. Lucas for the visual elements and audio enhancements done for this new release of THX. I can now fully immerse myself in the extreme textures of THX's daily surroundings, therefore feel for his (and LUH's, for that matter) plight.

Mr. Lucas, limited by theatre technology back in the day, had the right intellectual feel. Now you pump up the volume and get the sensory (therefore emotional in this world) content; it is tragic, but also triumphant. It is what happens between acts three and four of 2001: A Space Odyssey, a small chapter that occurs between human and starchild.

My final verdict is that George Lucas, thirty five years later, is still ahead of the pack, with a film he made...well, thirty five years ago. What an amazing man, I'd love to buy him a beer or three.

Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch's War on Journalism (2004)

A true eye opener and mind blower.

[10/10 · 18 December 2004]

I haven't written a review here in a long time. However, after having just watched Outfoxed, I am compelled to put down my impressions while they're still fresh.

For a long time, I was indifferent to Fox the network and Fox the "news" channel. But a few years ago, as Ruppert Murdoch's modus operandi began to make itself apparent to me, I became so disgusted that I stopped being a fan of the LA Dodgers, which Murdoch owned for a period of time, and I even stopped watching the Simpsons, owned and broadcast by Fox.

At the beginning of Outfoxed, I recoiled at being subjected to relentless footage of this propaganda machine in motion. Mercifully soon thereafter, the filmmakers began to unravel, point by point, the tactics used by Fox. I found myself shifting from emotional revulsion to intellectual fascination, as if the filmmakers were presenting a toy machine, taking it apart, and pointing out how the gears, levers and pulleys work. Or, more appropriately, the filmmakers were taking a monster to the scalpel and dissecting it for all to see.

Now the heroic aspect of Outfoxed is daring, like David, to take on Goliath, but the objective value of Outfoxed is the specific lesson it provides in critical thinking: detecting the content and delivery of a propaganda machine.

Pundits will say that this sort of analysis can be applied to Outfoxed itself. However, Outfoxed presents well documented PATTERNS over extended periods of time. Furthermore, the video archive and the statistics presented, even without a narrator's commentary, speak for themselves, and it is a grotesque portrait.

Highly recommended, see Outfoxed for yourself and show it, gently, to friends and loved ones who believe that Fox News, and mainstream media in general, is a fair and balanced enterprise.

One final piece of advice: rewind and freeze-frame often, taking time to read the distracting ticker at the bottom of most Fox News broadcasts, especially in the months leading up to and during the Iraq deployment. The ticker distracts from the commentators, and the commentators distract from the ticker, so you are taking in BOTH, SUBLIMINALLY. Explosive stuff, this is.

For its' relevance, guts, content and eloquence, Outfoxed gets a 10 out of 10.

The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

Damn fine popcorn spy flick (minor spoilers)

[8 September 2004]

I've always been a fan of spy movies, for the same reason I like baseball, probably, to watch something that's complex and thoroughly inconsequential at the same time. To just sit back with some nachos, ice cream bon-bons, suspend all disbelief and have my brain tickled. Bourne Supremacy successfully delivers.

Now, Bourne Identity was about a mystery in which we are digging deeper and deeper along with the main character. Bourne Supremacy cannot repeat this feat, nor should it, so the movie opts instead to be quite transparent about the plot and concentrate on the road towards payback. I really do enjoy how Mr. Bourne is ALWAYS a step ahead of the CIA pack, I smile at his unbelievable competence. I love the cosmopolitan settings in which the film takes place, more so than on the original Bourne Identity. And while not entirely able to disregard the laws of nature, I truly enjoyed the car chase, the first to acknowledge a post-"Matrix Reloaded" cinematic language, as the intense crescendo that it is.

The only thing that put me off a bit was the editing (which worked fine for me elsewhere in the film), during the fight sequence, MUCH more thrillingly executed in Bourne Identity, where you can clearly observe the choreography of two precise, relentless killing machines going for each other's throats.

Yes, Bourne Identity is a better, smarter, sharper film, as Doug Lyman is a superior director to Paul Greengrass, but Bourne Supremacy is pretty damn good, and quite a bit of pokerfaced escapist fun, to be taken with a grain of salt. Exactly what a spy flick should be. By the way, for a more serious example of the genre, check out 1973's "The Day Of the Jackal", a superb piece of intelligent cinema.

I am enthusiastic about the final installment of this adaptation of Robert Ludlum's trilogy, "The Bourne Ultimatum", and I seriously hope that the studios will be wise enough to call it quits when that one hits the theaters.

Duck Soup (1933)

Short but sweet. Spoilers ahead.

[3 August 2004]

Clocking at 68 minutes, Duck Soup ended a bit too quickly for me.

I really enjoyed this film, shortcomings nonwithstanding: Very poor

editing in some spots, a couple of gags are poorly constructed or

are orphaned halfway through.

However, there are three great set pieces: The lemonade stand

(parts 1 and 2), the mirror scene (pure genius) and the war

sequence (packed with insane rapid-fire gags, Airplane!-style).

I find it amazing just how much Looney Tunes ripped off from

these guys. Having grown up with Looney Tunes, Duck Soup is, in

a manner of speaking, like going full circle and finding myself

home again.

Another thing I really like about Duck Soup (or any Marx Brothers

film) is Harpo, doing his silent movie character in a world

surrounded by sound. This creature from another era gives a

surrealistic depth to the comedy offered on screen.

It is said that Duck Soup's anarchic style is what makes it current

and relevant. I beg to differ. I rather think Duck Soup remains

timely because of "We God's chillun an' we got guns, so let's go to

war". Sounds absurd, doesn't it? Well, it's how it happens, isn't it?

How a people, any people, can be whipped-up into a war frenzy for

no excusable reason (such as Firefly's war-at-all-costs mentality),

is the ultimate essence of this film. The fact that Duck Soup does

this in an absurd manner makes the observation easier to digest,

putting up a mirror to us all without offending so easily with the

truth. The message, in some level, makes its' way through.

Tapping into universal truths and skewering them, Duck Soup was

timely when it was made, and remains timely today.

Ulysses' Gaze (1995)

Another approach to the language of cinema.

[7 June 2004]

Somebody once said that DW Griffith is to blame for having a wide open horizon, full of possibilities, and settling for melodrama as the blueprint of the movie-going experience.

However, once in a long while, a film comes along that breaks the mold and shows us once again what can be done. Glimpses only, hints at untapped potential. "2001: A Space Odyssey" is one such example. Fellini's "Satyricon" is another. "Solaris" by Tarkovsky. And so is "Ulysses' Gaze". There are more.

I like to be challenged, even as I enjoy some standard Hollywood fare. I like to be shaken up with the promise of a nudge towards enlightenment. I love to feel awakened from my everyday, sleepwalking mode.

Granted, "Ulysses' Gaze" is NOT for everyone. But to dismiss this film as "another one of those art films", to call it bloated, is an exercise in laziness. And to condemn Angelopoulos of arrogance, well, how about considering the terms confidence and conviction instead? I do not pretend to understand "Ulysses' Gaze", the film is so riddled with ambiguities and leaps back and forth into the realm of the subconscious and the surreal. I just allow myself to go with the flow, and regard a world that is so outside of the grid that it is like watching a transmission from another planet, with real people I identify, sharing genuine affection in small gestures. And even though the English dialogue is lacking at times, there is not a single one of those "Hallmark moments" that seems to pervade in contemporary Hollywood fare.

As for the prolonged landscape scenes, they show parts of the world (Albania, Bulgaria) that are as unknown to me as the bottom of the ocean. If just for this alone, I am hypnotized.

To make the effort, to absorb "Ulysses' Gaze", is a small step towards understanding the ruthless, constant plight of the people of that small corner of the world that is the Balkans. Just one small corner. Imagine.

I have to say that "Ulysses' Gaze" is an incredible film, one of a few by which XX century's great cinema should (and will) eventually be regarded.

Irreversible (2002)

Yet another french dissertation on brutality.

[12 May 2004]

While I agree that Irreversible is a movie that explores new technical ground in several respects, I have an uneasy feeling that (some) french auteurs are playing a vertigo-inducing game of "Can You Top This?". Consider, among other cinematic examples, Doberman, Baise Moi, Irreversible and Les Diables.

Philosophically speaking, Irreversible may be the standout in this garçon-du-mal shock-art group. But by the time I saw it, this trend had desensitized me, I am no longer shaken by newness, I just have a numb bitter taste in my mouth. I rolled my eyes, thinking "Oh brother, here we go again".

I cannot figure out why these directors obscure their surely commendable ideas and stances, in film after film, behind a barrage of stylized raw violence, rape, incest and cruelty. In fact, I suspect there is a major nihilistic streak percolating behind this emerging gallic franchise.

And so, french auteur, I can think of five major reactions to your type of cinema:

1. "It's an unbearable piece of trash and I walked out!". A reaction is yanked from the so-called complacent individual. But you hold contempt for this person anyway, do you not, auteur? 2. "It was unbearable for me and I had to walk out". The sensitive person is intimidated. Is this a victory for you, auteur? Or a casualty of war? 3. "I sat through the whole thing, I am tougher and better than you are". Or "Oh man, it was awesome! Check out how X does Y to Z!". Is this jaded individual your ally, auteur? 4. "It was devastating and moving". Very few appreciative people remain on this side of your blunt filters, auteur. Also, lightning will only strike once here. 5. "Behind the extreme visual and dramatic content, there are brilliantly well executed ideas". But this intellectual person has already seen and read elsewhere the very same ideas you express so...colorfully, auteur.

I can see you taking a premise to its' final, logical extreme, permutated in as many different ways as you can think of, ninety minutes at a time. I just don't see the value of it anymore. Maybe you will grow wiser next time, leave the bad boys club, and surprise us all with a complex jewel of a movie, without the need to confrontate with sensationalism. Then again, maybe most of us will grow wiser and remember that the king was never wearing any clothes in the first place, as you noisily keep on penetrating a niche market.

The Big Lebowski (1998)

The Greatest Story Ever Told.

[16 December 2003]

I, as you, dear reader, probably do too, make it a point to sit around

the fireplace with my children and their children's children during

the holidays, eating candied yams and watching The Big

Lebowski. It's a family experience that bonds us ever closer each

passing year. We laugh in sorrow and weep in joy.

It's got it all! German nihilists that don't believe in anything!

Androgynous flamenco bowlers! Flying femenist avantgarde

painter people! Smut videos with exotic accents filmed in glorious

video! Furry little mammals in harnesses! White Russians made

with powdered milk! Iron lungs! Photos of farmhouses just a bit

west from way out in the middle of nowhere!

Witness the Dude get kicked around from one limo into another.

Feel the bubbles caressing your back as the bathtub turns into a

whirlpool. Learn a thing or two from the Dude on how NOT to

barricade yourself at home. Grab hints from the Dude as how to

squeeze the most out of your Walkman on those lonely weeknights. And above all, appreciate the value of being polite to

cab drivers, because, you know, they are people too, with feelings.

Yes ma'am, The Big Lebowski has got it all, hanging together as a

room does when there's a nice carpet laying about. An

epistemology lesson in easy to swallow pink tablets, a musical

extravaganza that puts any old C-Span book signing broadcast to

shame, a buzzard flapping its' wings in Nevada and creating a

blanket of fog over London, The Big Lebowski is all this, and

maybe just a little bit more, but don't quote me on that one.

Just one thing, though. Does the Dude really have to cuss so

much?

For consistently putting me in a cheery mood, lower to mid nines

out of ten.

A Bridge Too Far (1977)

In a dead heat with Thin Red Line, still the best WWII film.

[11 December 2003]

I saw this on the very same day I saw Star Wars. Then a month later, I did it again, ABTF and SW on the same day. I've made it a point to watch ABTF every few years from then on, and wow, it's a damn fine flick, isn't it?

It was a series of firsts for me, I can't speak for anybody else:

For the first time, we don't get the soldier clutching a bloodless wound and dying a quick, tidy, glorified, recruitment office approved, old Hollywood death.

For the first time, we get insight into the interminable waiting by civilians like you and me, followed by a blinding ray of hope, followed by indescribable horrors.

For the first time, we get a sense of the hellish logistical maze that major military operations must work out, compromising itself and the lives of thousands of men, because of an appalling lack of vision by some petty official ("We'll land you 10 miles out of town, since we cannot afford to loose a single glider").

For the first time, we see how the little details can do the biggest operations in ("It seems, sir, that the radios have been supplied with the wrong crystals").

For the first time, we see the astounding stupidity of mankind (that's the race I belong to, I'm sometimes ashamed to say) taking the form of Volksgrenadier boy soldiers.

And the paratrooping sequence. The artillery shells coming closer and closer. The construction of the Bailey bridge.

Any weak elements of the film are overwhelmed by sequences such as these.

Furthermore, it is to Cornelius Ryan's gigantic credit that he shows, in both TLD and ABTF, german officials as genuinely human, as opposed to caricatures. Spielberg STILL succumbs to this childlish temptation.

Just a couple of thoughts:

1. Gen. Gavin (Ryan O'Neal) is not necessarily too young to be a General. During wartime, the size of an army balloons, red tape shrinks to a minimum, and gifted leaders can quickly achieve extremely high rank. Accordingly, once war operations come to an end and the size of an army deflates, to compensate, many high ranking officials are demoted back to their pre-war rank.

2. Somebody mentioned something about americans arriving at the end of WWI, therefore not having lived the full, debilitating horrors of trench warfare, as Montgomery did. Fiddlesticks. It was americans who invented trench warfare during the Civil War. If european generals had bothered to study the american military experience, WWI would have ended much sooner. What the american army did in 1917, when on the offensive for the first time, was attack in ZIG-ZAG with many flexible units, instead of full frontal assaults right at pillboxes with machine guns. Thus, american tactics quickly sent dumbfounded germans reeling into defeat.

Some films have to be three hours long, and this is one of them. Any way you look at it, ATF is a thrilling, horrifying, thought- provoking, all around excellent film. A grand slam.

Now where's the definitive Russian Front epic, the life and times of Andrei Zhukov, Grand Marshall of the Soviet Union? Now THERE'S an epic, Leningrad, Moscow, Stalingrad and Berlin, clocking in at just under four hours, whaddya say?

Bowling for Columbine (2002)

Is it better to be rich or poor, Michael Moore?

[9/10 · 7 December 2003]

I read some people complaining that Bowling For Columbine is

propaganda. Yes it is. Propaganda of a noble kind, trying to work

its way into our collective brains and make civilized creatures out of

us. In this particular case, American creatures.

Yes, Bowling For Columbine is loaded, tilted to one side. A blunt

blast of fresh air to counterbalance the effects of a Fox network, a

Rush Limbaugh, the newscasts I have boycotted for over fifteen

years because they begin with the latest murders and declarations

of imminent dangers to YOU and YOUR saintly children, followed

by the smiling idiot declaring "Sunny Skies For Today!", in drought

stricken lands, no less. In this context, Bowling For Columbine is

antidote. Fightin' fire with fire, I say. Bravo, Mike, give 'em hell.

If you are intelligent and humanistic in nature, nothing in Bowling

For Columbine will come as a surprise. But what Michael Moore

does exceedingly well is tackle many profound outrages and

presents them compellingly, with humour and a clarity that is

worthy of our respect and attention. What Michael Moore implies is

astounding in the fact that it's so obvious that I've never seen it

before: As we speak, one of America's main products for both

domestic consumption and exportation is VIOLENCE. My God.

Michael Moore presents no answers, well meant K-Mart sensationalist stunt aside. What he's doing is presenting the

issue, cracking wide open a gigantic taboo. It's the FEAR, stupid.

Why do we hold on to our fear? Is the fear real, or is it fabricated

for us? (Orange Alert! You are in danger! Go shopping! Stimulate

the economy!) What is the price we pay for our fear?

The urgent message of Bowling For Columbine is that FEAR has

found fertile feeding ground for itself in America and has turned

into self-fulfilling prophecy, spiraling ever deeper.

The ultimate unanswered question is: How can we stop this cycle

and learn to fear nothing but fear itself? The answer to this one is,

ultimately, up to us. Don't hold your breath.

Repulsion (1965)

NUTS! Warning, spoilers ahead.

[25 November 2003]

Yow. Fascinating on many levels, one of which is like passing

through a car wreck and not being able to help oneself, turning to

see mangled bodies hunched over the dashboard.

This fragile, demure, beautiful, rock-solidly insane monster drives

the weak men in her life to similar levels of madness, turning

themselves into caricatures, simply because she manifests

herself in their lives. Better (but not good by any means) to be

consistently insane than to have an on/off switch that flicks against

our will. In any case, what a nasty curse for both sexes. The one

villain in Repulsion is the mind itself. And how about that rabbit,

eh? What a simple yet effective prop.

To top it all off, that fragility, demureness and beauty let her off the

hook every single time, even at the very end. If we could only stop

her before she strikes again. But alas, we are powerless, for we

don't have a single damn clue, our positive bias towards purity

plus beauty clouds our ability to put the pieces of the puzzle

together. What an astounding concept!

I thoroughly enjoyed the bitter commentaries that the old cows

make at the (snicker) beauty spa. Should this film be remade,

which would be pointless, for it stands as a monolith of it's genre,

the sour assessments on men should play out in a breast

augmentation clinic.

Anyway, tomes could be, and probably have been, written about

Repulsion. So before pleading insanity, m'lord, here is my final

argument:

This is a perfect after-midnight film. Now if I could only get my

hands on a copy of Tess...

The Matrix Revolutions (2003)

Should be regarded as part of a whole.

[8 November 2003]

Most people I know loved the original Matrix for its originality. I,

having read quite a bit of science fiction, did not find the story

particularly fresh, but it was an original CINEMATIC experience, up

until the point when they turned Schwarzenegger on us in that

lobby. I was really enjoying it until that last third marred it for me.

For my money, EXistenZ executed a much more satisfying

conclusion with a similar subject.

Many people I know hated Matrix Reloaded because it did not

repeat their epiphany of the original Matrix. Maybe they also expect

to be dazzled anew by the unexpected twists of Fight Club Part II:

Fight Harder. Whatever. I found Reloaded to be a bold statement

and loved it, as I tend to prefer the tone and tempo of the middle

movement in three part symphonies (i.e., Empire Strikes Back,

The Godfather).

So come noon, I was in the cinema on the day of the premiere of

Revolutions. Right off the bat, I was incredibly relieved: no Ewoks,

thank God. Just pure visual heavy metal of the highest caliber.

Some loose ends left so, as they were sideshows (expect a bunch

of novels with the Merovingian soon). Some awkward verbal

elaborations on faith, personal destiny and existentialist

philosophy (handled better, methinks, in the final episode of Neon

Genesis Evangelion). An unfolding individual tragedy that pulls no

punches. An ambiguous ending, a first step, worthy of Ballard or

Philip K. Dick, messy as life itself, in an epic sci-fi setting. No cop- out this is.

If you want your cherry on the cake with frosted coating and a

Celine Dion tune as the credits roll, go watch a Tom Cruise flick or

something. But The Matrix Trilogy, overall, is ambitious, flawed,

noble and worthy.

The Day of the Jackal (1973)

Less is more.

[10/10 · 30 September 2003]

I remember my father telling me about the day they screened this film in town. Something unprecedented happened at the local premiere: there was a standing ovation.

I saw this film fifteen years ago and remembered little about it. I saw it again tonight. It is extraordinary.

Uncluttered, straightforward and clinical, yet peculiarly the most sophisticated thriller I can remember seeing, it is an example of just how a film can be "popcorn" while thoroughly respecting the film-goer's intelligence all the same. Patience and scrutiny is rewarded, not by punch, but by engrossment. Neither peaks nor troughs in suspense, but an even level all the way to the end.

What a refreshing concept! I would have given this film a 10, if not for the fact that it loses some impact by having the french speak in English tongues amongst themselves. I give it a resounding 9. Watch it with your whip-smart science student nephew, along with Kubrik's "Paths of Glory". He'll be glad you did.

Monsoon Wedding (2001)

Extraordinary

[11 May 2003]

Mira Nair, thank you. Thank you so very much. The mess of life,

the joy of living, the confusion of being alive! I saw Salaam

Bombay so many years ago.

I've seen Pather Panchali. Aparajito. The Life of Apu.

You know, I am reminded of Do The Right Thing, your colours

explode in a joyfull expression of life.

I do not wait to be asked. I tell them that Monsoon Wedding is

extraordinary, I will rent it twice, I will buy it. It is exactly what I

believe in when I talk about cinema.

Mira Nair, I cannot thank you enough.

Apocalypse Now (1979)

There is no bigger artistic roll of the dice.

[31 August 2002]

I've made it a point to watch this film every seven or eight years

since it came out. I was all of twelve the first time around. Just tonight I was treated to the Redux.

What a humongous scope! To coherently cram this many resources in such an unforgiving environment is a testament to

Coppola's crazed ego, stubborness and sheer flawed brilliance. No major studio today would touch this material with a ten foot

pole. It would be watered down beyond recognition, to ensure

some targeted blah blah segments blah blah demographic.

About the Redux: Every single restored scene adds, as opposed to distracts.

Certain plot gaps, little ones, are now fulfilled. I don't mind

watching this film for an extra hour, nor do I mind a discourse from

the french perspective of Indochina, over a good dinner and wine. And thank you, Coppola, for jettisoning your alternate mom-and- apple-pie ending.

But one thing I find unforgivable every single time around, and that

is the slaughter of the cow. No sentient animal should EVER be

killed or made to suffer for art's sake, in the same way that

bullfighting goes against my every single principle. Yet bullfighting exists against my will, and Apocalypse Now makes

me face that fact head-on, as a member of the human race, of

which I am often dismayed. Most probably this is a reflection of Coppola's disintegrating sanity

approaching the end of filming. Apocalypse Now reflects the

same madness and hell that both cast and crew endured during

filming. One and the same skewed sense of integrity that flaws

this film so deeply but also makes it one of the monoliths by which

twentieth century filmmaking will be regarded. Forever.

Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Star Wars was Japanese, Empire Strikes Back was Greek.

[28 July 2002]

Sometimes there is so much beauty in this world that I feel my

heart cannot take it and may explode.

I am old enough to have seen Empire Strikes Back in theaters

during its original release. I was twelve. With Star Wars, I wanted to be the hero. With Empire Strikes Back,

the last thing I wanted to be was the hero. I wanted to change the world, yet the biggest obstacle was my

father.

Shhh, wait. Star Wars is an Opera.

A 10 out of 10, through and through. Empire Strikes Back.

Minority Report (2002)

I went to see it because of Philip K Dick.

[27 July 2002]

I've read several PKD novels, and let me tell you, they are an excellent challenge. Insightful, dark, ambiguous (amTRIguous?)and ultimately humane. Sometimes his work seems deliberately unclear, but it is never short of compelling.

With Minority Report, Mount Spielberg has created a film of consummate craftsmanship. Noir bathed in light and white all over. Wow! Sort of the negative print of Blade Runner. Nothing escaped Spielberg's attention, not the minutest detail, nor texture nor athmospheric. A very convincing representation of the Police State that the United States could become (remember how everybody got face-scanned at the last Super Bowl?). The choreography and pacing of action sequences are, yet again, masterful and fresh; credit must be given to Spielberg for consistently pulling this off, year in and year out.

Which reminds me: What a travesty it was to integrate the Schwarzenegger Element to another PKD project: Total Recall. The plot reflects PKD's forte: the permutation of ideas both visionary and unexpected. However, the wishy-washy ending torpedoes everything that the rest of the film stands for. What could have been a great film becomes merely a good one, because of the saccharine aftertaste.

The factor that makes Blade Runner great is its conviction to bring forth the true spirit of PKD to the very end, to its logical lack of conclusion. Many people remember that Blade Runner hit the screen in 1982 with an infamous watered-down ending, patched in at the prompting of studio executives, a sort of commercial bowdlerization, and a woeful mistake long since corrected.

Now, Mount Spielberg has here shown yet again that he cannot help but to bowdlerize himself. Could somebody please tell this man to stop pushing the same blatant sentimentality buttons that served him (and us) well once upon a time, once or twice? And that goes double for Mr. Cruise.

"It's too bad she won't live, but then again who does?"

Barry Lyndon (1975)

This is the only Kubrik review I will ever do in IMDb.

[24 June 2002]

I consider Kubrik to be the greatest film director of them all. I have seen every film of his starting from Killer's Kiss onward. After tonight, the only film of his I have not seen at least twice is Killer's Kiss (which I had the good fortune to find playing in a film theatre only two blocks away from my hotel room in Paris).

Barry Lyndon only confirms my beliefs. Kubrik IS the greatest (sorry, Cassius). Kubrik always respected my ability to interpret, to think and uncover, to rise to the challenge.

The pacing of Barry Lyndon is intoxicating, taking its' time to explore what otherwise would be blink-and-miss at the hand of the majority of film directors, Russians like Eisenstein and Tarkovsky excluded. The lighting and usage of musical score are in a Universe of their own, comparable to nothing else ever done, outside rank or classification. The complexity of storytelling navigates in shades of grey, leaving as villains only circumstance and poor judgement by the characters involved, an approach sorely missed in MOST of modern cinema, where melodrama seems to be the order of the day. While Barry Lyndon is a film with morality, it is by no means moralistic.

In short, Barry Lyndon very much reflects real life, presented as a unique and grand cinematic experience. My only regret is that I have not seen this film on a 90mm proyector screen, where it belongs.

Thank you, Stanley. I treasure the king's ransom of art that you left us and miss you every day.

Pi (1998)

Obtuse, infuriating and inspired content, virtuoso execution

[9 April 2002]

I saw Pi a couple of years back, it has run its course through my mind and settled there, as undisturbed as sediment at the bottom of a lake that is on its way to becoming rock. These depths becon me every so often, and there I go, to revisit what I once knew. Guess what? Pi is turning into a diamond down there, aging exceptionally well. To me, Pi was and is as challenging and satisfying as a really difficult crossword puzzle which, in interpretation, can fit many different words into the same spaces. Pi jolted me out of complacency yet again and reshifted my paradigm about what art is and can do. Arofnosky, it becomes increasingly apparent with RFAD, is a brilliant director. Thankfully, he's not alone, far from it. Just not around multiplexes, mind you. KABOOM! (Afterglow and fade out...)

Mulholland Drive (2001)

Curiously enough, Roger Ebert loved it.

[27 October 2001]

David Lynch shocked and awakened me with Blue Velvet, a hard act to follow. I have come to expect the unexpected from Lynch, so much so that I know exactly what's coming: a twist. It's like that Bugs Bunny cartoon in which the exasperated king cries out "Every day it's the same thing... VARIETY!" Of course, there are plenty of tantalizing morsels in every varied meal, but my palate has become jaded with Lynch. I am sure that Mr. Lynch realized this too. This might be the reason why he cleansed his palate with the wonderful The Straight Story. So now, with Mulholland Drive, Mr. Lynch delivers his most subtle balance between the sublime and the madness. In a nutshell, the dream state. Whereas Lost Highway is a nightmare that would awaken me perspiring halfway through, Mulholland Drive is like a long dream that fluctuates between the embers and the clouds, after which I wake up refreshed, with tears running down my cheeks and an intellectual afterglow, contemplating endless possibilities, even as my beloved dream irrevocably fades like a lifting fog to be lost forever.

A few random observations: -I am willing to bet that Mr. Lynch has been struck by Robert Altman's latter work, specifically Short Cuts. -Angelo Badalamenti has become subtler, with greater impact. -David Lynch is becoming the first and truest of American surrealist filmmakers. Someone we can be, and should be, proud of. -To compare Mr. Lynch with Federico Fellini is like comparing Jazz and Classical. -At best, Fellini makes me laugh while being mesmerized. At best, Lynch abruptly makes me cry with a smile.

Do I recommend Mulholland Drive? Yes, very much. But you'd better watch this film at least a couple of hours after your previous meal. You do not want to be sluggish while watching this one.

Kind regards from Mexico.