tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60704858625992836842024-03-28T20:29:20.341-07:00The Pop Culture PunditAnalysis and reflections on the world of television, movies, music, and celebrity!Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.comBlogger292125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-14985585412023676472014-02-19T23:42:00.000-08:002014-02-19T23:55:17.164-08:00Gandolfini's Final Performance Anchors the Beautiful Romantic Comedy ENOUGH SAID (2013)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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I know this probably sounds really trite, but divorce crushes a person.
When you marry someone, you vow to give them your heart and soul (and your
liver, your spine, and pretty much every other essential part of yourself), and
the problem is that you actually do. Most people give so much of themselves
when they get married, that when the relationship falls apart, it feels as
though the very world around you has been torn asunder. Those emotional
earthquakes rattle the very core of your being, and leave you feeling hollow
and lifeless. There is no way to give of yourself so freely and not be
devastated by the separation of a spouse, regardless of the reason.</div>
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Getting back on your feet is a slow process, filled with so many steps
forward followed immediately by what seems to be a million steps backward. It
is hard to be alone, hard to rediscover your own identity separate from that
person with whom you shared so much of your life. The progress you make seldom
feels like progress. Every relationship feels like a 3<sup>rd</sup> generation
copy of your marriage, almost unrecognizable, yet triggering virtually all the
same soft spots and wounds. Eventually, you will find homeostasis, will find a
new way to live and love and be loved. It happens in degrees.</div>
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<i>Enough Said</i>, the beautiful
romantic comedy from Nicole Holofcener, isn’t so much about romance as it is
about discovering that we are worthy of love. Julia Louis-Dreyfus plays Eva, a
divorced masseuse who gets involved with a sweet, gentle man named Albert
(James Gandolfini). Like any divorcee looking to test the waters of a new relationship,
her trepidation leads her into some uncomfortable waters. The movie’s twist
involves Eva discovering her new client, Marianne (Catherine Keener), is Albert’s
ex-wife. Instead of being honest, or walking away from the job, Eva becomes
Marianne’s friend in hopes that by learning about Albert from his ex will help
her to better understand the uncharted waters she finds herself drowning in.
The premise has the stink of a cheap high concept rom-com written all over it,
but Holofcener’s script, combined with the endearing central performances, it
rises above the sitcom and becomes a sincere exploration of love during
midlife.</div>
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Part of the film’s success is the way in which Holofcener has created a
simple, but fully realized world around her characters. Eva’s problems
are not limited to love. Her daughter is leaving for college. Chloe, her
daughter’s best friend, lingers around the house, seeking motherly advice. Eva’s
best friend, Sarah (Toni Collette) is a psychiatrist who has a compulsive habit
of constantly rearranging the living room furniture and picking on her
inefficient housekeeper. Meanwhile, Albert is dealing with an impending empty nest as
well, and he and the ex can’t seem to settle on who will take their daughter to
the airport. He works as an archivist of old TV shows at a museum, happy to
live in the comforts of past instead of plunging into the uncomfortable future.</div>
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Gandolfini’s performance is stands out here. His sensitivity is key to
the movie’s success. You can’t help but love the big galoot. No matter how much
venom his ex spits at his memory, he looms large as a man who merely wants
acceptance for his distaste of onions, inability to whisper at an acceptable
volume, and collection of mouthwashes under the sink. As Eva falls deeper into
her spiral of insecurity and neurosis, Albert is the port in the storm,
reminding us that while he may not have been what Marianne wanted or needed, he
is still someone remarkably worthy of love, and capable of giving the love
someone needs. To show this, the movie doesn’t need Albert to perform many
gestures. Just a close-up of Gandolfini’s teddy bear face is enough to communicate
all this and more.</div>
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It’s refreshing to see a romantic comedy that strives to look seriously
at the real emotional issues facing people in the aftermath of divorce. The need
to go as broad as possible often leads to bland caricatures masquerading as
characters. <i>Enough Said</i> avoids this
pitfall and allows its characters to fall in love on their own terms.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-21535899231611032632014-02-08T20:18:00.002-08:002014-02-08T20:18:22.803-08:00JACKASS PRESENTS: BAD GRANDPA (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn87ilbKzdziT3h-08KM5UPlY5yIUUI-GLH8FuK1JbhgIEY5JgaXPWwigCNcC8Ggk-nCC67ceIq3LCw3OHK61LAfPtMrNv_cVVNJP0YJVe5V2mB6JVXUleuTcXSMAPeV-B2wdB2csFiws/s1600/Bad+Grandpa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn87ilbKzdziT3h-08KM5UPlY5yIUUI-GLH8FuK1JbhgIEY5JgaXPWwigCNcC8Ggk-nCC67ceIq3LCw3OHK61LAfPtMrNv_cVVNJP0YJVe5V2mB6JVXUleuTcXSMAPeV-B2wdB2csFiws/s1600/Bad+Grandpa.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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Every time I watch something related to the <i>Jackass</i> family of films, I find myself reminded of Mike Judge’s
remarkably funny satire, <i>Idiocracy</i>.
In the future depicted by Judge, the most popular television show is called <i>Ow! My Balls</i> and features a man running
around aimlessly as he is continually – and creatively – hit in the balls. The
entire <i>Jackass</i> franchise is built on
a similar premise: let’s watch grown men humiliate themselves, or others, for
amusement. It’s a concept that has always left me cold, all the while proving
to be a successful formula for teenage boys and overgrown teenage men.</div>
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<i>Bad Grandpa</i> is an attempt by
Johnny Knoxville and his team to expand their brand into feature films that do
more than serve as unconnected sketches of men doing dangerously funny things
to themselves and each other; they want to tell a story. The story here is that
of an old man named Irving (Knoxville), who is saddled with the task of taking
his 8-year old grandson, Billy, to be reunited with his methhead father after
mom is sent to prison. Along the way, this grumpy, perverted, foolish old man
and his grandson get involved in a number of staged hijinks in front of unsuspecting
people. It’s similar, in its own way, to Sacha Baron Cohen’s <i>Borat</i> in that the joke is on all the
non-acting people these fictional characters encounter. Where it’s different is
the intent. <i>Borat</i> uses the format to
expose the racism, xenophobia, and ugliness in the hearts of so-called “normal”
people. It is misanthropy with a satirical edge. <i>Bad Grandpa</i> just wants to have a good time being bad.</div>
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And it is bad. Knoxville’s Irving is every bit the dirty old man
stereotype the title suggests. The film draws its laughs from the traditional
comic double team of foul talking old men and foul talking children. It adds
nothing new to either cliché. So, the success of the film is dependent solely
on the inventiveness of the situations created by Irving and Billy. On that
front, the film is hit-and-miss. Some scenes, like the ones in which Irving acts
like a deaf-mute to teach Billy how to pick up women, are wretched and tired.
But a few scenes, such as an early setpiece in a mortuary in which Irving tries
to eulogize his deceased wife in front of a group of patient church folk that
eventually culminates in him knocking over the casket, are absolutely
hysterical. The film’s climatic moment, at a child’s beauty pageant, is one of
the year’s funniest moments. It plays like a parody of <i>Little Miss Sunshine</i>, while seeming to actually satirize the child
pageant culture. I know Knoxville and his team had no such design, so I
consider the scene a happy accident.</div>
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I recognized going in that <i>Bad
Grandpa</i> was not a movie made for me. I am too snobbish in my comedic tastes
sometimes, and I figured this movie would have to really do something
unexpected to change my opinion. Ultimately, it didn’t, but I can’t say I hated
it. I admire the <i>Jackass</i> team’s
decision to try something new and risky. I love the make-up work that
transformed the young Knoxville into an 86-year old man so convincingly that
none of the non-actors mentioned it (I’m sure there were several things edited
out to promote the illusion, but the fact that anyone was tricked up close is
either a sign of great craft or the fact that people are simply getting dumber
by the day). And I loved the beauty pageant, if only because it permanently
redeems my guilty pleasure love affair with Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.”</div>
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What I take from this is that while <i>Bad
Grandpa</i> may not currently be my cup of tea, it did soften my heart. Maybe I’m
on my way to being ready for the future. Better protect my balls.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-68483107503572501112014-02-07T20:50:00.002-08:002014-02-07T20:50:35.354-08:00IN A WORLD... (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dxKe87h_D8RchD9u8pDK7JPMc2SEMwtcDnO5kt-amR2-oh9hxsE-y0TgHEhj5kLXf1uqddqy3Vll-GEWIr4m8mj-e-1E1TpBDn4-8SXR60LY78zxu0Icm3uSRqk_slykyLmdMqyzA34/s1600/In+a+World....jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dxKe87h_D8RchD9u8pDK7JPMc2SEMwtcDnO5kt-amR2-oh9hxsE-y0TgHEhj5kLXf1uqddqy3Vll-GEWIr4m8mj-e-1E1TpBDn4-8SXR60LY78zxu0Icm3uSRqk_slykyLmdMqyzA34/s1600/In+a+World....jpg" height="165" width="400" /></a></div>
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Lake Bell is an interesting filmmaker. She has a unique voice. While <i>In a World…</i> is a bit uneven, juggling a
few too many storylines, there is this fantastic scene at the end of the movie
where she tears apart the hubris of her engaging protagonist. In this scene, we
are dip into Bell’s vision of what makes Hollywood tick, and as a result have
to revisit her movie with a new perspective. At first glance, <i>In a World…</i> plays like a mix of a femme
coming-of-age tale and a rom-com set against the backdrop of Hollywood sound
mixing and voice-over work. After the movie is over, you realize that what you
really saw was a work about feminism and tokenism in this cutthroat industry.</div>
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Bell stars as Carol, a slacker voice coach who lives at home with her
legendary voice over father, Sam (Fred Melamed). Because he’s shacking up with
a girl half his age, Sam kicks Carol to the curb, forcing her to move in with
her sister (Michaela Watkins) and brother-in-law (Rob Corddry). Carol dreams of
doing movie trailers like her father, but he takes every opportunity to make
her aware of how sexist the industry is. Living in her dad’s shadow, she takes
whatever work she can get at a local sound studio, run by Louis (Demetri
Martin), who is madly in love with her in that traditional beta-male way.</div>
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One day, Carol is given a chance to do a movie trailer voice over for a
children’s rom-com, and nails it, stealing the work out from under her father’s
protégé, Gustav (Ken Marino). This sets into motion the movie’s core plot, as
Gustav and Sam find themselves unknowingly fighting against Carol. It’s a
battle of the sexes, and resorts in some funny moments.</div>
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Bell’s script, which is full of some great one-liners and terrific wit,
at times feels weighed down by unnecessary storylines. The most egregious
involves Dani, Carol’s sister, who almost-sorta-kinda cheats on her husband
with an Irish client at the hotel in which she works as a concierge. The story
draws us away from Carol, and never truly pays off. It feels like its own movie
at times, and doesn’t really add much thematically in addition to slowing down
the plot. The love story between Louis and Carol is a bit contrived, as well,
and even though Martin and Bell have some definite geek chemistry, not enough
time is given to their budding romance to make it feel like more than the
standard “this is a movie about a woman, so we have to have a romance” angle.
Bell’s biggest problem as a screenwriter here is the need to cater to
traditional comedic tropes, which falls a bit flat when you consider the film’s
subversive ending.</div>
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Regardless, as a first film, <i>In a
World…</i> is an excellent starting point for Lake Bell. She is definitely a
voice worth listening to.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-27136911938858463362014-01-25T19:37:00.000-08:002014-01-25T19:37:19.422-08:00A.C.O.D. ADULT CHILDREN OF DIVORCE (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYnlK04JVpUurVFzbbDY6_xWwsIpr9HjWuAG1Pb7Lxf5b35zk7vpPcGhKGX3Wp0SZ3NXp7M55q82s75SrjfqVmkrW8YIbIlj1nZaFTBBxcjFjpFK4R0iq2nLxHq1XQzTnRpFeQAvEMD0w/s1600/A.C.O.D..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYnlK04JVpUurVFzbbDY6_xWwsIpr9HjWuAG1Pb7Lxf5b35zk7vpPcGhKGX3Wp0SZ3NXp7M55q82s75SrjfqVmkrW8YIbIlj1nZaFTBBxcjFjpFK4R0iq2nLxHq1XQzTnRpFeQAvEMD0w/s1600/A.C.O.D..jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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Halfway through <i>A.C.O.D. (Adult
Children of Divorce)</i>, Oscar Wilde’s <i>The
Importance of Being Earnest</i> is referenced. Wilde’s satirical farce, which
reveals the venality and hollowness of the upper class in their pursuit of
values they can’t even recognize, is so wickedly funny that even if you can’t
quite grasp the subtleties of his language, you can’t help but laugh at the
tone. What’s sad is that <i>A.C.O.D. </i>alludes
to this comedy, but can’t be bothered to do anything remotely funny. For a
movie whose premise is ripe with opportunity for satire, it plays more like a
drama dressed up as a comedy.</div>
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The film follows a neurotic guy named Carter (Adam Scott) whose entire
life has been messed up by his narcissistic parents (Richard Jenkins and
Catherine O’Hara). When Carter’s brother (Clarke Duke) announces his
engagement, Carter finds his world turned upside-down. He seeks the help of a
former therapist (Jane Lynch), whom he discovers wasn’t a therapist at all, but
a researcher who documented his childhood in a book called <i>Children of Divorce</i>. And when his efforts to create a civil
relationship between his parents creates an even bigger, more unexpected
problem, Carter is forced to face his psychological issues head-on.</div>
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Director Stu Zicherman really wants us to laugh at Carter’s pain. He
wants us to laugh at his oblivious parents, whose me-first mentality constantly
screws over their level-headed son. He wants us to enjoy Jane Lynch’s
unorthodox research questions. But the movie never connects with the funny
bone. It’s like Zicherman and co-writer Ben Karlin watched the TV series <i>Arrested Development</i> and thought they
could make something like that for the big screen, but with more pathos. But
the reason <i>Arrested Development</i> worked
is exactly what is missing from <i>A.C.O.D.</i>:
absurdity. </div>
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Everything the characters in <i>A.C.O.D.</i>
do makes perfect sense. It’s completely logical. When Carter’s parents start up
a torrid affair and use Carter as a go-between, no one would say that’s crazy.
When Carter tries reasoning with his parents, and they turn his words around to
make him look like the heel, it plays as tragedy. Part of good comedy is
blowing situations out of proportion and testing their elasticity, or throwing
in some awkward element that functions like a bomb, shaking up the status quo.
As I watched this movie, I spent most of its short running time (88 minutes)
cringing and wondering how many people would watch see their own families without
a shred of irony.</div>
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It’s sad to watch a comedy that would function better as drama.</div>
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Other thoughts:</div>
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* Not only is the movie unfunny on a situational level, but there wasn’t
even one memorable line of dialogue. This script has no one-liners. Its symbols
lack humor, too. For example, Carter, who owns a restaurant, calls the place
Whitegrass. One would hope the name might create some funny dialogue, or even a
humorous reveal of its origin. But, no, its name is based on a detail born
directly out of Carter’s awful childhood. Fail.</div>
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*What a waste of great comedic talent. Adam Scott, Richard Jenkins,
Catherine O’Hara, Jane Lynch, Mary-Elizabeth Winstead, Amy Poehler, Clarke
Duke. This is a terrific cast, and it sucks that each is given nothing
interesting to do – unless you consider seeing Jenkins’ old man ass during sex
interesting.</div>
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* The casting of Jessica Alba as another child of divorce was
intriguing, but the movie does nothing with her. Her storyline is dropped;
nothing consequential happens because of her involvement. She is a shadow
character.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-72125902066103051502014-01-25T17:04:00.001-08:002014-01-25T19:44:26.836-08:00THE WOLVERINE (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNFtotXmSKIs-fLJGR8qUNVWoJJSuiO22SGL0t10rM7G79F1BG09D-itt-TqDNvpv9jTUb0Szun_mIKzfMduMwotRefVx2tasNGVF7omosZNqZPq7Fo7K8j6LXfTXPvkmBv3HNto2oe4/s1600/The+Wolverine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNFtotXmSKIs-fLJGR8qUNVWoJJSuiO22SGL0t10rM7G79F1BG09D-itt-TqDNvpv9jTUb0Szun_mIKzfMduMwotRefVx2tasNGVF7omosZNqZPq7Fo7K8j6LXfTXPvkmBv3HNto2oe4/s1600/The+Wolverine.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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When it comes to superhero movies, I’ve been full of an awful lot of
frustration these past couple years. Maybe it’s burnout, but something has been
lacking since <i>The Avengers</i>. Either
these movies have been way too self-important (<i>Man of Steel</i>, <i>The Dark Knight
Rises</i>), too dumb (<i>Green Lantern</i>),
or too silly (<i>Thor: The Dark World</i>)
for me to really get behind them with any real geek enthusiasm. I’m not setting
you up to tell you <i>The Wolverine</i> sets
the genre back on its feet, or that it does anything particularly
revolutionary. What I will tell you is James Mangold’s version is a fine story,
with a strong performance from Hugh Jackman. It’s a quality movie – not a
classic, nor the best example of the genre. Instead of swinging for the fences,
it is quite satisfied with hitting a stand-up double.</div>
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Sometimes it feels like comic book movies have to outdo one another.
Clamoring fans have really driven the work studios are putting out, and that
has often felt like a detriment (have you seen <i>Iron Man 2</i>?). With every superhero flick, it is as if the ante is
being upped, and the next story has to be bigger, better, faster, stronger,
more. This is why we usually get sequels with end of the world scenarios, or
more villains, or grand death scenes for important characters. </div>
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While I understand with all the money being thrown at these movies (<i>The Wolverine </i>is reported to have had a
budget of 120 million) there is enormous pressure to make each sequel more
epic, I would hope more filmmakers would take a moment to consider how comic
books themselves are put together. Not every storyline in a comic book series
has to have higher stakes than the previous one. Sometimes the storylines take
a more introverted stance, or delve deeper into a running theme within the
series, or take the character in a new direction as yet unexplored.</div>
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<i>The Wolverine</i> downsizes the
epic scale we usually get in the <i>X-Men </i>films
(I’m pretending <i>X-Men Origins: Wolverine</i>
didn’t happen) and focuses on what turns out to be a pretty personal tale. He’s
a wounded animal struggling with his will to live in the aftermath of the
events of <i>X-Men: The Last Stand</i>. This
movie takes Logan (Jackman) to Japan where he is reunited with Yashida, a man
whose life he saved during the atomic bombing of Nagasaki in 1945. As a dying
man, Yashida propositions Logan, requesting an exchange: he will take Logan’s
mutant healing powers in exchange for the allure of death. Logan rejects, the
old man dies, and the situation gets more complex at Yashida’s funeral when
local gangsters try to take out Yashida’s cherished granddaughter, Mariko (Tao
Okamoto). Unable to deny his nature to protect, Logan rescues Mariko and whisks
her into hiding. Unfortunately, Logan has a big problem. Somehow his healing
power has stopped working, and he becomes weak and mortal. Not only does he
have to save Mariko, but for the first time in his life, he has to also save
himself.</div>
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<i>The Wolverine</i> is at its best
when Logan is struggling with the loss of his power. We learn more about the
heart of a hero when he or she cannot rely on their strengths. The storyline is
similar to Shane Black’s vision in <i>Iron
Man 3</i>, which found Tony Stark having to make do with a malfunctioning suit
of armor and no lab to get another. Where <i>Iron
Man 3</i> was more interested in using the lack of power to humble Stark, <i>The Wolverine</i> is more interested in
watching its hero grapple with mortality. Wolverine’s greatest struggle as a
hero – the essence that makes his character endure – is that he, like a
vampire, cannot die. He is brave, tough, macho, and all that, but deep inside
he’s devastated at the suffering he’s witnessed, and the friends and lovers he
has lost. His will to live is always under attack, and it is the only thing
that can truly hurt him since guns and knives and sharp swords have no long
lasting effect. Suddenly, without his mutant powers, Logan still must find the
resolve to fight. The scenes in which he a Mariko are on the run are the movie’s
finest, and the fight sequence on top of Japan’s bullet train is exhilarating as
a result.</div>
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Once the film resumes the standard hero movie beats in its final act,
it becomes sort of ho-hum, but not without its charms. Especially charming is
the casting of Rila Fukushima as Yuriko, Mariko’s adopted sister who brings
Logan into the Japanese storyline and eventually assigns herself the role of
his bodyguard. She is fun to watch on screen with her lynx-like jaw and lithe
kung-fu movements. I would be thrilled to watch a film chronicling the exploits
of Yuriko and Logan as they travel around like badass samurais –it would be the
Marvel Comics version of Akira Kurosawa legend. Not so much fun are the
standard issue villains/shapeshifting rogues, Viper and Shingen. Viper is sexy
and all that, but after watching Mystique in previous X-Men movies, it’s hard
not to yawn. And Shingen, who starts the movie as a cool outsider, plays a role
that is paint-by-numbers with a performance as dry as unbuttered toast.</div>
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<i>The Wolverine</i> is not going to
set the bar higher for comic book movies, but I think that is a good thing. Its
low key tale is evidence that if the superhero genre is going to thrive, we
need more attempts to tell stories like these. With Marvel’s second wave about
to kick start this coming summer with <i>Ant-Man</i>,
I have a feeling this may be the case.</div>
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Other Thoughts:</div>
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* Despite enjoying this movie, I was rather concerned with most of the action scenes. Wolverine's claws make him a deadly character, so it is next to impossible for him to fight with a group of people without killing anyone. Because of this movie's PG-13 rating, the fights are incredibly bloodless, and Wolverine tosses most of his enemies aside like rag dolls when it is obvious he just cut them to shreds. At times this also seems to undercut the major theme of fighting for the will to live. When life is so easily, and bloodlessly taken, it almost makes life look like it is not all that valuable. Mindless, consequence free violence is a prevalent trope of the action genre, and isn't nearly as off putting as it could be in this movie, but it does give one room to pause and consider the idea that maybe the PG-13 rating is sacrificing significance for a teenage audience.</div>
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* I laughed my ass off at the beginning of the movie as Logan emerges from his cave in the woods. For a moment, I imagined a scenario in which Jackman finished working on the set of <i>Les Miserables</i>, then sprinted across the studio lot to shoot these scenes in <i>The Wolverine</i>. I kind of hoped he would start serenading Jean Grey in his dreams.</div>
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* The now traditional closing credits tease scene was fun, and definitely sets up this summer's <i>X-Men: Days of Future Past</i> by having Wolverine intercepted in the airport by a couple old friends. But I did find myself wondering where the hell Yuriko was, since the title card tells us the scene takes place two years after the conclusion of the movie.</div>
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* Jackman is so ripped for this film that he single-handedly does for men what the movies have been doing to women for the last century: breed rampant insecurity. I will continue to ponder this as I crack open another Coke and shove a handful of Doritos into my mouth...</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-35981369292136409872014-01-23T22:36:00.001-08:002014-01-23T22:36:44.746-08:00KICK-ASS 2 (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zee1pz_My8bYvsDr4riNDpQnIw-kSrovdzXqvCnKxk0TV3Vfx7FqyyMeSZKOe5eDlCwk-P3jG6wjf7O7F-AFakeCAhyphenhyphenmMOvQW4_mkfcm93Tp3OPIEdfMqFKk-PY7F_yqnyWNFDktDEI/s1600/Kick-Ass+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zee1pz_My8bYvsDr4riNDpQnIw-kSrovdzXqvCnKxk0TV3Vfx7FqyyMeSZKOe5eDlCwk-P3jG6wjf7O7F-AFakeCAhyphenhyphenmMOvQW4_mkfcm93Tp3OPIEdfMqFKk-PY7F_yqnyWNFDktDEI/s1600/Kick-Ass+2.jpg" height="218" width="400" /></a></div>
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The first <i>Kick-Ass</i>
came out of nowhere, it seemed. It was a sharp stab at the over the top
seriousness of so many modern superhero movies. We were introduced to
characters we hadn’t seen before, like Big Daddy and Hit Girl, who were
psychotics in costumes, arbitrarily fighting on the side of “good.” Hit Girl
was only a child, spouting cursings as she cut down gangsters and other
assorted baddies without conscience. The film was a commentary on the superhero
movies, like <i>Batman</i>, by questioning
the very nature of being a superhero: what kind of person dons a pair of tights
and a cowl? Alan Moore’s seminal graphic novel, <i>Watchmen</i>, asked the same questions in a much more provocative way
back in the 1980s, but <i>Kick-Ass</i> felt
like just the right movie for the millennial generation. It felt designed to
make them think about the comic book movies they were weaned on.</div>
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Unfortunately, <i>Kick-Ass
2</i> is a horrible sequel. Where the original knew exactly what kind of film
it was – a satirical take on superhero movies – the sequel has no idea what it
wants to be. At times it is an action flick, filled with extreme action
sequences saturated in CG blood. Other times it is a satire, picking at an
American culture that has no trust for authority and is in love with violence.
And, strangely enough, it also tries to be a coming of age story involving
emotionally manipulative scenes composited from a variety of high school
movies. And it never gets anything right, failing on all counts.</div>
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The sequel picks up a while after the original ended. Dave
(Aaron Johnson) is still playing at Kick-Ass, but wants a partner. He is
trained by Hit Girl (Chloe Grace-Moretz), who has been ditching school to train
and fight crime as a tribute to her dead father. Eventually, Hit Girl is forced
to leave the vigilante life behind, so Kick Ass joins a team of wannabe heroes
(inspired by his exploits in the first film). He meets several new heroes: Night
Bitch (Lindy Booth), Dr. Gravity (Donald Faison), Battle Guy (Clark Duke), and Colonel
Stars N’ Stripes (Jim Carrey). They join forces, but their efforts are matched
by the emergence of a new supervillain. The character of Red Mist from the
original movie finally accepts his calling as a bad guy and rechristens himself
the Motherfucker (Christopher Mintz-Plasse). He buys himself a team of villains
to which he bestows ethnically insensitive names like Mother Russia, Black
Death, and Genghis Carnage. Together, they seek to find and kill Kick-Ass.</div>
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As an action film, the movie is piecemeal, with each set piece
feeling off in some way. This is especially true of the scenes involving the
Motherfucker’s ruthless squad of villains. Their action scenes feel squeezed
in, and don’t make much logical sense. They feel like excuses for carnage, and
to show off the effects of CG blood work. I’m not sure if the movie uses any
practical effects, outside of blood make-up. Even scenes involving Kick-Ass don’t
seem to work. He does lots of training early in the movie, but that training
seems to do little to help him, making all the groundwork seem pointless.
Despite Hit Girl’s efforts, Kick-Ass feels like just as inept a fighter, even
when he finally squares off with the even more pathetic Motherfucker, who
realizes he would rather pay people to fight for him than actually learn any
hand-to-hand skills outside of cheap shots.</div>
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The satire that made the first movie so much fun is so
hit-and-miss here that it could almost be non-existent. What is the intended
target? In the first movie, you often felt the movie was not just satirizing
comic books, but also the legions of fanboys who practically jerk off to their
vigilante dreams. With that point already made, <i>Kick-Ass 2</i> just seems repetitive. It never quite hits the satirical
points it is aiming for by comparing high school culture with criminal culture,
and it completely whiffs on its use of Colonel Stars N Stripes as an indictment
of the way the U.S. military pushes our young men into false ideas of heroism founded
on love of weapons, dehumanization, and brotherhood. Instead, the movie wastes
a great performance by Jim Carrey and turns his character into a useless cliché.
Part of this is due to sequel-itis; the original was so sharp and effective
that any attempt to tread on the same ground would invoke the law of
diminishing returns and come across as derivative. Frankly, the novelty of <i>Kick-Ass</i> wore off once the movie opens
on a scene involving Hit Girl shooting at Kick-Ass in the same place her father
shot her. It’s a call back that immediately reminds us of a better film.</div>
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But, personally, it is the high school material that gave me
the most trouble. This is mainly because it is where the movie struggles to
most to find a footing. Part of <i>Kick-Ass</i>’s
success was the way it approached Dave’s life in high school and with his
friends. Every character felt honest in a way that they ring hollow in this
movie. First and foremost, this has to do with the fact that Hit Girl is
suddenly a major character instead of merely a colorful minor one. Jeff Wadlow,
the writer/director, seems to think that the best way to help her story along
is to give her typical high school problems that she has to try to solve in Hit
Girl fashion. This leads to a funny, but troubling sequence in which Hit Girl
gets angry at a group of snobby girls in the cafeteria that seems to suggest
she is doing mankind a favor by being a horrible human being to other horrible
human beings. Like the heroes, she is rewarded for her efforts with the satisfaction
that she is a do-gooder. None of these high school scenes ring true –
seriously, the writer/director thought it was a good idea to try to put Hit
Girl into scenes in which she is trying to fit in with the more popular girls.
And none of her efforts to fit in amount to anything on a narrative level. The
movie wastes no time cutting back to the more action packed adventures of
Kick-Ass.</div>
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Normally, I wouldn’t want to write so much about a movie
like this, but <i>Kick-Ass 2</i> reaches so
hard to create something poignant and awesome that it forgets to be a real
story. Instead, it’s just a collection of disparate parts sewed together like
the Motherfucker’s hideous S&M outfit. It adds nothing to the ideas
introduced in the first film, and to some degree makes an even uglier case that
human beings are just awful and really should all be dead. The movie wants to
celebrate individuals and real heroism, but instead it is really celebrating
violence for its own sake. It is misanthropic, hopelessly cynical, and – most importantly
– no fun.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-84944697396110328382014-01-20T18:56:00.001-08:002014-01-20T18:56:35.716-08:00DALLAS BUYERS CLUB (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJdSatONO57xdX9dNnNEv67jrhfInqOjW1sFNwaj7gB85Ej9ktqSCcumso-1T0qhxSUGk7KchtuhU2x5C6-RNiYmekfdRNJjEfCyQJ58Cn9a46G2CP83hHhj8gv2d4rrIFoGEtwN3Tag/s1600/Dallas+Buyers+Club.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJdSatONO57xdX9dNnNEv67jrhfInqOjW1sFNwaj7gB85Ej9ktqSCcumso-1T0qhxSUGk7KchtuhU2x5C6-RNiYmekfdRNJjEfCyQJ58Cn9a46G2CP83hHhj8gv2d4rrIFoGEtwN3Tag/s1600/Dallas+Buyers+Club.jpg" height="228" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Dallas Buyers Club</i> is a
social issue movie about how the FDA goes out of its way to keep sick people
from getting well by enabling pharmaceutical companies to buy their way into
the medicine cabinets and bloodstreams of truly sick people. The story is that
of Ron Woodruff (Matthew McConaughey), an electrician, cowboy, and fervently
heterosexual man who gets AIDS. After learning about the value of alternative
medicines and non-FDA approved substances, Ron fights to help the AIDS infected
community in Dallas. The film is a heartfelt, feel-good biopic, featuring one
of McConaughey’s strongest performances, and excellent work from Jared Leto and
Jennifer Garner. It is also lacking nuance, sophistication, and the subtlety it
truly needs to elevate it to the level it believes it is functioning on.</div>
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I really wanted to love <i>Dallas
Buyers Club</i>, but what really bothered me as I watched was how awful the
film made everyone look. The mid-80s was a time of incredible ignorance as it
related to HIV/AIDS. As an audience, we can watch this film and judge Ron’s
friends and the medical community for their non-progressive ideas about those
suffering with the deadly virus. For example, shortly after Ron learns he is
HIV-positive, he goes to the local watering hole and encounters the prejudices
of his friends, all whom think he is homosexual, and can infect them at a mere
touch. Instead of allowing the scene to play objectively, director Jean-Marc
Vallee makes us hate his friends. Ron, who comes across initially as a
homophobic, misogynistic redneck, is shown compassion – and even seen as
endearing – for his backwards views, but his friends do not invite such
compassion. Sure, they are morons, uneducated, and full of wicked prejudice, but
so was pretty much most of America during that time.</div>
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Even more vilified are those in the medical community, with the
exception of the nurturing, virtuous Eve (Jennifer Garner). The men are always
standing in the way of progress, and we are never allowed to consider the issue
from their side. Ron is smuggling unapproved substances into the United States
from a variety of countries and selling them to desperate people. He’s doing
his homework, knows his stuff, and is definitely trying to do right by those in
need, but couldn’t the film provide an honest counterpoint showing that the FDA
might have good reason to be concerned? I’m all in favor of good, old-fashioned
villainy by government agencies, but <i>Dallas
Buyers Club</i> wants us to take it seriously. When the bad FDA man (Michael O’Neill)
practically gloats as he raids Ron’s operation, seizing necessary drugs from
those in dire need of effective treatment, it comes across as irresponsible. I
wanted Ron to succeed, too, but when his opposition practically twirls his
mustache, it feels unfair.</div>
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Overall, the film is good. It addresses an issue that is still valid –
does the FDA stand in the way of progress? Are they merely a government front
for Big Pharma interests? Does the federal government really have the best
interests of its people in mind? These are questions our politicians should be
addressing, our congress should be debating, and hopefully quality films like <i>Dallas Buyers Club</i> can kickstart
conversations. While it does a good job addressing the social issue, it doesn’t
play with a fair deck on a narrative level. That’s unfortunate, but not
especially damning.</div>
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Other thoughts:</div>
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McConaughey really did his job earning the Oscar for this role. The
only actor I’ve ever seen look this emaciated was Christian Bale in <i>The Machinist.</i> This sort of commitment is
commendable, and it is obvious he is really looking to subvert his image as a
good ol’ boy with his recent slate of excellent roles. He’s played a
charismatic, lovelorn con with bad teeth (<i>Mud</i>),
a sociopathic local cop (<i>Killer Joe</i>),
a party-time, but shrewd businessman/stripper (<i>Magic Mike</i>), and a troubled, philosophical detective (<i>True Detective</i>). How many actors have
turned their careers around so dramatically, going from punchline to Oscar
nominee, as McConaughey? It’s remarkable, and I’m thankful.</div>
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Jared Leto is getting a lot of notices as Rayon, a transvestite hooker,
who partners up with Ron to build their “buyers club” business. He is
excellent, of course, but at times a bit too obvious as he milks every
emotional bit for full tearjerker effect. Rayon is most interesting when
interacting with Ron, and the scene in which Ron has to defend Rayon in front
of one of his old buddies at a supermarket is a highlight of the movie.</div>
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One of the best things about <i>Dallas
Buyers Club</i> was how it showed the way AIDS treatment was being handled
around the world. Ron may be a Dallas cowboy (no pun intended), but he spends
time in Mexico and Japan, and taps into markets in Canada, France, and Israel.
It definitely shows how narrow minded our medical community can be with
treatments – Americans are often so satisfied with ourselves, so certain of our
greatness, that we have a hard time acknowledging the hard work and excellence
in research emerging from other countries.</div>
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Now that <i>Dallas Buyers Club</i>
has been nominated for six Academy Awards, reports are surfacing that Ron
Woodruff, who was portrayed as incredibly homophobic, was possibly bi-sexual.
This <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2014/01/17/was_dallas_buyers_club_s_ron_woodroof_gay_or_bisexual_friends_and_doctor.html" target="_blank">article</a>, from Slate, highlights interviews with people who knew Woodruff
and were shocked by the film’s portrayal. If this is the case, and Woodruff was
not as homophobic as the screenwriter attests, it changes the way the movie is
perceived. Suddenly, it plays as a movie in which the gay community needed a
straight man to save them. This is similar to all the movies about civil rights
in which oppressed black people need a virtuous white person to help them. This
would only add to my feelings that the movie makes its villains almost
caricatures of badness by suddenly giving us an obvious hero who changes his
backwards views. The jury is still out, but it makes the Oscar nominated
screenplay seem lazier than I initially thought.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-32830078824952628572014-01-20T17:51:00.003-08:002014-01-20T17:51:55.216-08:00NEBRASKA (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcynqO10hXVc5U0HzSp7Bt29fThg7uOyYWhRT7YP0GwE7tQQNcG4_Q5r2nDKsor1UVdeiQlXHLchrC-Chuq7ca036cEHPbqhODLczmXv1vpNXW4KdqeeLX8njeWg3IN3LQexNYhqoJ0g/s1600/Nebraska.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcynqO10hXVc5U0HzSp7Bt29fThg7uOyYWhRT7YP0GwE7tQQNcG4_Q5r2nDKsor1UVdeiQlXHLchrC-Chuq7ca036cEHPbqhODLczmXv1vpNXW4KdqeeLX8njeWg3IN3LQexNYhqoJ0g/s1600/Nebraska.jpg" height="215" width="400" /></a></div>
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Aging is rough, and going down gracefully is not easy. Alexander Payne’s
<i>Nebraska</i>, digs into this idea with Payne’s
typical world weary humanism. He introduces us to another of his male
protagonists whose lives are defined by what they don’t have, and the mistakes
they make in their attempt to attain it. Here, our man of the hour is Woody
Grant (Bruce Dern), an octogenarian of receding mental acuity who believes the marketing
letter calling him to claim a million dollar reward is real. Woody is an
alcoholic, a war veteran, and many other things we discover as he and his
dutiful son, David, go on a journey to Lincoln, Nebraska, to pick up his prize.</div>
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Besides the beautiful black and white cinematography, which really
brings to life the deadness and weariness of America’s heartland in these lean
times, the relationship between David and Woody defines this movie. We are
often told that we are more like our parents than we want to admit, and this
movie embraces and explores the claim. Woody is a glimpse into David’s future,
and David is often caught in reflection, both physical and emotional. David is
often reminded by his firecracker mother (June Squibb), and his weary brother,
Ross (Bob Odenkirk), how much like his father he actually is. Payne even goes
so far as to have the two men dress similarly. Throughout the story, David is
called to question his similarity to Woody, which leads him to try to find the
humanity in a father who never seemed to be there, even when he was. </div>
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Obviously, David is the child of an alcoholic. He is unable to commit to
his long time girlfriend, and she has left him. He continually apologizes for
his father’s erratic behavior, and seeks the old man’s approval, even when
doing so is either rebuffed or ignored. And he struggles with his own drinking
problem. Forte’s performance is quite nuanced; as the movie builds, he paints a
sad portrait of a man entering middle age who wants to believe life can be
lived fully, but is unwilling to accept anyone’s word for it. The million
dollar letter in Woody’s shirt pocket is as much a symbol of Woody’s longing
for a fulfilled life as it is a symbol of David’s despair and lost hope.</div>
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And that is the difficulty of growing old. We battle with
disillusionment. We long for better tomorrows. We hope our children’s lives
will be made better by our own choices, while knowing we are doomed to make
consistent bad choices we will inevitably regret. <i>Nebraska</i>’s strength is in the way it shows this battle.</div>
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Other thoughts:</div>
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I love June Squibb. I described her as a firecracker, and no better
word can be found for her performance. When she is on screen, the black and
white explodes with the color of her character. There’s a scene with her in a
cemetery that just kills.</div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I didn't mention Bruce Dern's performance earlier, mostly because every critic has been singing his praises since the movie was first screened at Cannes in 2013. It is a great performance, perhaps the greatest of his career, and he dominates the film, even when he isn't on screen. I just figured there wasn't much else to say. He spends much of the movie's running time silent, but his silence speaks loudly.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Beside the father-son dynamic that drew me in, this movie is a pretty effective
metaphor for the death of America. Woody almost seems symbolic himself of a
dying society – a man haunted by his past and putting his hopes in something
false for his future. He reminded me of the delusional Don Quixote, but without
the romanticism.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I know my review focuses on the drama of the film, but this is a really
funny movie. It’s ironic that the least funny characters are Will Forte and Bob
Odenkirk, two guys whose reputations have been built on comedy. Both dial down their
funnyman personas and play the straight men, which goes a long way to making
the film’s humor crackle.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The town of Hawthorn is one of the saddest places I’ve ever seen in a
movie. It feels like a desolate wasteland. You really understand why Woody is
an alcoholic. When his pre-marriage sweetheart, who runs the town paper, tells
David that there’s not a lot to do in Hawthorn besides drink, it is a sobering
thought.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-71369124442351205872014-01-16T21:06:00.000-08:002014-01-16T21:06:38.142-08:00YOU'RE NEXT (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyGJFHUo8ITATkDHsJ_YoaAHhocQmT04RIKNEaIgWoGooXjJ41nUm_-h_aOk4ZDyoADcGiVfcz-J7yOtjpF6k8sTjAZQFWOdKYb1d2Ww0nBvLUEN6Gx4XNDUw-YW18zwVKniclXlSrxs/s1600/You're+Next.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyGJFHUo8ITATkDHsJ_YoaAHhocQmT04RIKNEaIgWoGooXjJ41nUm_-h_aOk4ZDyoADcGiVfcz-J7yOtjpF6k8sTjAZQFWOdKYb1d2Ww0nBvLUEN6Gx4XNDUw-YW18zwVKniclXlSrxs/s1600/You're+Next.jpg" height="247" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>You’re Next</i> starts off as a
basic home invasion thriller—and a not particularly inspired one at that—until suddenly
kicks into overdrive and emerges as a breath-of-fresh air in what has become a
stale subgenre.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The Davison family is meeting for a family reunion to celebrate the
anniversary of their parents. Everyone arrives, and all the typical family
issues bubble to the surface. Repressed jealousies, judgments, perceived
slights, favoritism, etc. Dad’s kind, sweet, and doting. Mom is addicted to
anti-anxiety meds. Crispian (AJ Bowen) has brought his former college student
and current girlfriend, Erin (Sharni Vinson) to meet the family, and everything
appears to be going according to rote.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Then the carnage starts. A group of creepy, animal-masked assailants
converge on the country home and start taking people out. The family freaks,
and the home invasion story gets going. I almost yawned as they debated over
whether to head into the basement or go upstairs.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But, then, writer Simon Barrett and director Adam Wingard, subvert
expectation and give us not only a fun (and funny) plot, but establish a female
protagonist in Erin that may very well redefine how horror filmmakers approach
their badass female characters in the future. The way Erin’s character unfolds
is terrific cinema.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I won’t give away any of the movie’s secrets. All I can say is the last
hour of the film is non-stop suspense, and the climax will leave you laughing
just as much as it will leave you horrified.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-73731182906369199232014-01-16T20:50:00.000-08:002014-01-16T20:50:34.756-08:00THE HUNT (2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DW5Jvc2derJUwMmKfOEOwWKWDVLXFxEoWk6aa35DZtAyQsnGjBN3YPqC3kaBtHnLbmuu3qssbQYwlckSdf2Y6EoVRWhNvKE6jFkVO_AdxnfjHTEvJ6BHjI2CdEqal2brM5yWXi_foNs/s1600/The+Hunt.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DW5Jvc2derJUwMmKfOEOwWKWDVLXFxEoWk6aa35DZtAyQsnGjBN3YPqC3kaBtHnLbmuu3qssbQYwlckSdf2Y6EoVRWhNvKE6jFkVO_AdxnfjHTEvJ6BHjI2CdEqal2brM5yWXi_foNs/s1600/The+Hunt.png" height="167" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
It’s amazing what a nomination can do for a film, isn’t it? After the
announcements of the nominees for the 86<sup>th</sup> Academy Awards, I took to
Netflix to see how many of the documentary and foreign language films were
available on their streaming service. One film I came across was the foreign
language film nominee from Denmark, <i>The
Hunt</i>.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I cannot attest to <i>The Hunt</i>’s
worthiness as an Oscar nominee, especially with films like France’s <i>Blue is the Warmest Color</i> and Iran’s <i>The Past</i> being left off the list. What I
can attest to, though, is the overall power and sensitivity of <i>The Hunt</i>. As directed by Thomas
Vinterberg, <i>The Hunt</i> is a film about
the blind spots we have when it comes to our children, and how this reveals a
fear which prompts our darkest natures.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
We are introduced to Lucas (Mads Mikkelsen), a man trying to rebuild
his life in the aftermath of a horrible divorce. He teaches at a local kindergarten,
lives in a shitty one bedroom townhome, and has a Catch-22 relationship with
his ex-wife as it relates to contacting his son. The only real joys of his life
are playing with the kids at school, hanging out with his hunting buddies, and
persuing a relationship with another of the teachers. Lucas’s world falls
apart, though, one day when an accusation about sexual propriety is made by his
best friend’s daughter at school. The belief that “children don’t lie, not
about <i>that</i>” becomes the lynchpin upon
which the rest of the drama unfolds.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Even though Vinterberg’s film makes it crystal clear that Lucas is
wrongly accused, the film never completely vilifies the people in his
community. They are definitely acting in what they perceive are the best
interests of the children. The story could have very easily dived right into <i>Crucible</i> territory by exposing the
hypocrisy and blind foolishness of this community, but there is a real attempt,
especially through the character of Lucas’s best friend, Theo (Thomas Bo
Larsen), to shine a light on the deep sadness which pervades situations such as
these after all the anger burns out.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The performance of Mads Mikkelsen is quite understated. He never
overplays the moments when his righteous anger is justified. He has created a
character in Lucas who has become accustomed to life dealing his a shitty hand
beyond his control, but refuses to back down and accept defeat. This is what
makes the ending of the film – which involves a rite of passage for his son
during hunting season – so satisfying. </div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I don’t know if <i>The Hunt</i> is
one of the top five foreign films of the year – hell, the Academy’s voting
process as it relates to foreign films is significantly different than it is in
the other branches, so it may not have even received a nomination on merit
alone. What I do know is that it is an excellent film that takes a controversial
topic – child sexual abuse – and handles it is a compassionate, human way.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-65409316111165478702014-01-10T18:46:00.000-08:002014-01-10T18:46:18.869-08:00INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4AKcOTjrWy1-yoQuEEZDwMgNx2XwZKc_KO-vXYOiSf3uOhwvOMkYBUIto6b6r4xgDg-g57vboXnkEAZMtsM0PuLpO_p_oED-pUiGoacKkoi2-vqyX7pTzJi9nQg2GFMDJOT1H7fMhbs/s1600/Inside+Llewyn+Davis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4AKcOTjrWy1-yoQuEEZDwMgNx2XwZKc_KO-vXYOiSf3uOhwvOMkYBUIto6b6r4xgDg-g57vboXnkEAZMtsM0PuLpO_p_oED-pUiGoacKkoi2-vqyX7pTzJi9nQg2GFMDJOT1H7fMhbs/s1600/Inside+Llewyn+Davis.jpg" height="174" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The moment we really get inside Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac) occurs late
in the film when he visits his father in a nursing home. The old man, obviously
suffering from Alzheimer’s, is silent and has a stern, almost scornful
expression permanently etched into his haggard face. To lighten the mood, Llewyn
decides to sing a song Dad once liked. The song, as with all of Llewyn’s work,
is beautiful and haunted. And as it appears the old man is ready to give our
protagonist some catharsis…he craps his pants.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Not only is this evidence of the Coen brothers’ career long dedication
to resisting obvious sentiment, spreading a layer of cynicism over their
narrative, it is also evidence of their remarkable capacity as storytellers for
compassion. They may be cynics, but they do not treat their characters
cynically. <i>Inside Lleywn Davis</i> is a
fantastic character study about a man dealing with loss, a dire need for
connection, and a self-destructive streak that makes him his own worst enemy.
No matter how much other characters may seem to revile him – and they do – none
hate Llewyn as much as Llewyn hates Llewyn. In this, the Coens uncover a
universal truth that is as much a key to understanding Llewyn’s music as it is
to understanding why he is unsuccessful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
While the performances in this film are outstanding, including great
character work from John Goodman, Carey Mulligan, Max Casella, and of course Oscar
Isaac, the look of <i>Inside Llewyn Davis</i>
is equally stunning. Every shot is muted, looking like a washed out photograph
from a bygone era. Images of Llewyn walking the streets of Greenwich Village
look like replicas of Dylan’s <i>Freewheelin’</i>
album cover. There is a definite lack of nostalgia, though, as there was in
Dylan’s best work – like Dylan’s, the Coens, use the forms of the past to take
an unflinching look at the human condition in the present. Without the
saccharine aftertaste of nostalgia, the Coens have created an original
character for whom sadness and failure are written into his DNA, a sign of the
times for artists in this current generation.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>Inside Llewyn Davis</i> is not
splashy, not immediately funny, nor immediately accessible. Like its title
character, it is irascible, at times a bit off putting, and quite insular. But
as you give yourself over to its rhythm and melody, it does win you over, and
proves to be one of the Coen Brothers finest works to date.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-46915399939635605722014-01-07T22:51:00.000-08:002014-01-07T22:51:01.115-08:00LEVIATHAN (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCx8WaMaQa8aAZHec8z9VcEnt3m5hr4lRC4mUFePpkwH3U57LvgLJGXOHBpwvK_gMepRdcuNcx2ypUAkgWHhumob5d0pqfZrxvusLBLc6NNJr3wyQUkIMisgNOy9a27dP3mA2yVHbfI7s/s1600/Leviathan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCx8WaMaQa8aAZHec8z9VcEnt3m5hr4lRC4mUFePpkwH3U57LvgLJGXOHBpwvK_gMepRdcuNcx2ypUAkgWHhumob5d0pqfZrxvusLBLc6NNJr3wyQUkIMisgNOy9a27dP3mA2yVHbfI7s/s1600/Leviathan.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Without narration, <i>Leviathan</i>
is a documentary that forces the viewer to pay attention to every detail and
make up his/her own mind as to the goings on in the frame. It is a complete
visual experience. The camera bobs and weaves and dips and dunks and by the end
of the film’s short running time (87 minutes) you feel as though you’ve been on
board a ship. From press releases, the documentary was shot on board a fishing
vessel conducting its business out on the treacherous waters off the coast of New
England that inspired Melville’s <i>Moby
Dick</i>. With this and many of the film’s most arresting images in mind, it
becomes clear the directors’ intent is to show us that they’ve seen the
leviathan, and it is us.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
While the film grows tedious at times as we watch the fishermen go
about their work in a machine-like manner, there are many images that carry with
them the power of great paintings. Gutted fish swirling in a barrel, eyes open
and lifeless, mouths gaping as their own blood and fluids flow in and out. Countless
gallons of blood, guts, and stingray wings sluicing off the sides of the vessel
in thick waves of red. Legions of gulls
swooping into the ocean to scavenge the floating parts, the camera capturing
both the majesty and the terror of their shrieking presence. The images show the horror of the work these
men do, the way nature is graphically mutilated for the sake of industry.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Yet, <i>Leviathan</i> doesn’t seem to
condemn the fishermen. Nor does it romanticize the work they do, not like
reality shows such as <i>Deadliest Catch</i>.
This is pure naturalism. These men have a job to do. They are quiet and
efficient. They look upon the ocean with haunted eyes, weathered by past
excursions, with bodies scarred by either their trade or their tattoos, which
may be the only things to remind them they are alive. This work is painful and
relentless.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But even though we are not judging the men who do such work, we are
left to question the job they are doing. Is this humane? Is it necessary? How
much longer can we continue to comb the oceans for fish and oysters before we
wear out a precious resource? The movie’s
only attempt at an answer may come in its epigraph, which quotes Job 41:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook? Or his tongue with a cord
which thou lettest down?...Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be
cast down even at the sight of him?</i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Whether <i>Leviathan</i> is truly
trying to make a political statement or not, it is an arresting experience,
pushing the barriers as to how a documentary can influence us.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-37405466731462298582014-01-07T20:17:00.001-08:002014-01-07T20:17:11.158-08:00STORIES WE TELL (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNLZCbuNqbCma6rrIfV_N06T3traqc27wY-99K4uVpVHP_6AnXhPc64FUnRYGKKi3BrORR03_NmqnRs8oKOR1-athnl8Dt-SAjWdPq2HLdDxeghDUCagJDdDYuA52BpHhguSCkiUPvaw/s1600/Stories+We+Tell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNLZCbuNqbCma6rrIfV_N06T3traqc27wY-99K4uVpVHP_6AnXhPc64FUnRYGKKi3BrORR03_NmqnRs8oKOR1-athnl8Dt-SAjWdPq2HLdDxeghDUCagJDdDYuA52BpHhguSCkiUPvaw/s1600/Stories+We+Tell.jpg" height="198" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a documentary quite like <i>Stories We Tell</i>. It’s a remarkably
personal, intimate, and – at times – embarrassing tale about director Sarah
Polley’s mother, Diane. But the story is told by Ms. Polley using interviews,
narration, family films, and re-enactments. She, herself, does little speaking,
allowing her family, friends, and those who knew her mother to do most of the
talking. Yet, the film is definitely her vision and personal statement about
her mother, truth, and the ways in which people remember their lives and those
they love. It’s honest, empathetic, and beautiful.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The story begins with a character study of Diane, Ms. Polley’s
vivacious, beautiful mother. She was a woman of many interests and occupations.
We learn how she met Michael, her second husband, and the life they built
together. Along the way, we see how Diane’s need for excitement and passion
took her away from the family and into the arms of Harry Gulkin, a notable
movie producer in Montreal. Eventually, Sarah comes to discover her own
origins, and this leads to a sequence about the nature of secrets.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The greatest strength of <i>Stories
We Tell</i> is in the universal themes it touches on – our human need for
connection and the understanding of our origins, of the ways family
personalities are shaped by the individual members, and of how we take
ownership of our memories as if they do not belong to anyone else. In the story
of the Polley family, I found myself reflecting on my own family history and
wanted to know more. While Ms. Polley herself acknowledges how embarrassing
this project seemed at times, her commitment to honesty – even through home
movie reenactments – is an inspiration in how we should process the hardest
truths life can deal us.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-49322972683391581102014-01-05T00:27:00.001-08:002014-01-05T00:27:49.306-08:00HER (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcHw7IvqTE3KOhh0DDE_1ROCzBjBIrBOgLXpN4KQj44WYgSMxFYhlDYOPj-_jlV8fMN1-U_oC1E9cC-U5X2IuGqomlgSo4OfoE-dcNXInfJRTyXRGFRItiVxpQNk09O7oTJL6EcnnQZM/s1600/Her.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcHw7IvqTE3KOhh0DDE_1ROCzBjBIrBOgLXpN4KQj44WYgSMxFYhlDYOPj-_jlV8fMN1-U_oC1E9cC-U5X2IuGqomlgSo4OfoE-dcNXInfJRTyXRGFRItiVxpQNk09O7oTJL6EcnnQZM/s320/Her.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>Her</i> is a special and personal
film from one of America’s finest, and most unheralded filmmakers, Spike Jonze.
The story of Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix) and his lonely journey for love
and acceptance is universal, and by using a subdued science fiction premise –
man falls in love with his A.I. operating system – Jonze reveals that no matter
how much we advance as a society, we will always be seeking connection. The tools
may change, but the needs remain the same.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
This theme isn’t all that surprising, though. What is surprising is the
character Jonze creates in Samantha, the operating system that becomes the love
of Theodore’s life. Samantha, as voiced by Scarlett Johansson, is the soul of
every woman. She transcends her character and becomes a symbol of true feminism.
In a lesser writer’s hands, Samantha would merely be a foil for us to better
understand Theodore, like most women in movies. In Jonze’s script, Samantha’s journey
is as real and vital as Theodore’s in every way. A scene, late in the film,
offers a remarkable monologue in which Samantha explains the virtues of not
having a body that reframes our understanding of what it means to be human.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Like the best art, <i>Her</i> stays
with you because it is already inside you. It taps into that part of each of us
yearning for more. This is not just a movie to love, but a movie to embrace and
cherish. Its joy, its passion, its empathy are contagious.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-57345272670956196242014-01-04T23:55:00.000-08:002014-01-04T23:55:38.422-08:00THE LORDS OF SALEM (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhCaK8MyhmVFIL7LT1C1pOA61z_vi_89jX6fnm0POuxfq_SU5eHvzqlDogBrwkvGCz9xG6LP4RuciOXqJtBvkejffGVhW-bua_wcu9Hnm1YyRbaDZXo4AIsms1Aoc4dnfUxaiph-40FA/s1600/Lords+of+Salem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhCaK8MyhmVFIL7LT1C1pOA61z_vi_89jX6fnm0POuxfq_SU5eHvzqlDogBrwkvGCz9xG6LP4RuciOXqJtBvkejffGVhW-bua_wcu9Hnm1YyRbaDZXo4AIsms1Aoc4dnfUxaiph-40FA/s320/Lords+of+Salem.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>The Lords of Salem</i> is a curious film that is all style and little substance.<br />
<br />
Director Rob Zombie (<i>House of 1000 Corpses, Halloween</i>) is improving as a filmmaker -- his ability to command atmosphere and create dread without resorting to cheap carnival thrills is excellent. There are moments in this film that are completely engrossing and bring chills in waves. Most of the film feels like a fever dream, especially the climax, which involves images that invert religious iconography in a surreal and erotic way.<br />
<br />
Yet, as a storyteller, Zombie leaves way too much off the table. This film falls victim to an inert protagonist who is caught in the whirlwind of forces beyond her control, yet appears to have no interest in fighting these forces, or even trying to understand them.<br />
<br />
The result is a movie that looks great, feels creepy, but is remarkably unsatisfying.Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-25786723103440957492013-11-23T17:36:00.000-08:002013-11-23T17:36:04.258-08:00Lord of the Star Wars -- Reflections on "Thor: The Dark World" (2013)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGiZeTK6XFF12Bv1NL7rfmj78ePoWoGLDcEmkWTKlqokE-UcQzW1wNDwPoGH_uc1i6SknLR_UK9-JUEoVZCvW7x-3p8iuW9AlYPHtnBj39ZiEv-06KOf0b99dcgDfbZ_k9kQ2k4vrY8ek/s1600/Thor+The+Dark+World.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGiZeTK6XFF12Bv1NL7rfmj78ePoWoGLDcEmkWTKlqokE-UcQzW1wNDwPoGH_uc1i6SknLR_UK9-JUEoVZCvW7x-3p8iuW9AlYPHtnBj39ZiEv-06KOf0b99dcgDfbZ_k9kQ2k4vrY8ek/s400/Thor+The+Dark+World.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSnJZ5zr-4LnxW_jUnPZrtm5z1Fn0PR-EdMBdcOsoefyglVb7IeLOh9q3OIqkE7rCz0FPkjWzdQoab35AoNbEStkBevb8ZUyQAD5n6xtl5H3DC4UxeUu3kjODJaUT0wgNkCJLRwJivms/s1600/Thor+The+Dark+World+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSnJZ5zr-4LnxW_jUnPZrtm5z1Fn0PR-EdMBdcOsoefyglVb7IeLOh9q3OIqkE7rCz0FPkjWzdQoab35AoNbEStkBevb8ZUyQAD5n6xtl5H3DC4UxeUu3kjODJaUT0wgNkCJLRwJivms/s320/Thor+The+Dark+World+Info.png" width="254" /></a></div>
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<i style="font-style: italic;">Thor: The Dark World</i> is a
cross breed, a collage of a movie that does its heaviest borrowing from Peter
Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings and
George Lucas’s Star Wars. It makes
absolutely no sense on any logical level, and is overall pretty lame as far as
superhero films go (this coming from a die hard comic book fan).</div>
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But for about an hour and a half, <i>Thor
</i>is a Rainbow Bridge of fun!</div>
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The film begins with a slog of a prologue in which we are introduced to
this story’s villain, Malekith (Christopher Eccleston), who seems to have
nicked his costuming from Evil in Terry Gilliam’s <i>Time Bandits</i>. Malekith wants a macguffin called the aether, an evil
energy force that floats around like Kool-Aid in zero gravity. After a war with
Asgard, he loses the aether and gets exiled in the nether regions of the
galaxy.</div>
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Enter our real story, which picks up after <i>The Avengers</i>, with Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) trying to pick up
the pieces of her life in Thor’s absence. She eventually encounters the aether,
and in a sequence worthy of any of the slew of demon possession horror films
released in the past few years, she becomes its host. Cue Malekith becoming
aware, and suddenly our damsel in distress needs a hero.</div>
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Thor (Chris Hemsworth) leaves his life of duty on Asgard, in which he finds
himself a King in training, to save Jane, but the presence of the aether brings
Malekith and his orcs to Asgard’s door. The conflict becomes more complicated
when Thor realizes he needs the help of his mischievous brother, Loki (Tom
Hiddleston), to protect their home and rid the universe of Malekith’s
totalitarian brand of evil.</div>
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The plot of <i>Thor</i> is not
particularly important. It follows the usual beats, and pretty much telegraphs
each in the story with Hollywood precision. The plot is interchangeable with
any other superhero film. What kept getting my interest was the film’s
combination of disparate elements in its art direction. Malekith’s men carry
blasters that would satisfy a stormtrooper’s weapons craving, yet fly around in
ships that look similar to Saruman’s tower. The Asgardian’s look and act like
Riders of Rohan while Thor and Jane swoon over each other in a set piece
seemingly stolen from Lucas’s computer file sets of Naboo. And, in the film’s
best early moments – which continue a trend started in <i>The Avengers</i> – Loki is given screen time and camera angles likening
him to Hannibal Lecter (did anyone else find it odd that Loki is essentially
Hannibal in a film co-starring the iconic cannibal).</div>
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But it is this composite approach that gives <i>Thor</i> its sense of fun, especially in its climatic showdown between
Thor and Malekith, which is copped from the finale of <i>Monster’s Inc</i>. I don’t know if director Alan Taylor – revered for
his excellent work on HBO’s <i>Game of
Thrones</i> – realized that he was juggling borrowed props and sets, but he
does so with gusto. Once Loki emerges in the center of the film, the movie
takes off. The rapport between Hemsworth and Hiddleston is tart and
surprisingly convincing of its endearing tone. The pacing picks up, and suddenly
even the annoying first act problems – Kat Dennings’s sarcastic comic relief as
Jane’s best friend, Darcy – start working.</div>
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<i>Thor: The Dark World</i>
continues the trend of Marvel Studios films to embrace the joy and excitement
of the comic book premise. It’s not a particularly strong film – definitely a
notch under <i>Iron Man 3</i>, and <i> Captain America</i>, but nowhere near as awful
as <i>Iron Man 2</i> and the dull first
entry in this series – but it does make for an enjoyable time at the movies.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-51958459872154773292013-11-17T11:28:00.000-08:002013-11-17T11:28:30.046-08:00A True Black Perspective -- Reflections on "12 Years a Slave" (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMQg3aWusVCZOuVG0IaNUb90TEQUJnW7IjPhSr6zOg2IewTbe44kMgxyOVRFWtSN7EAeA8uXoctjyd_8LxUszw9vdh7-8gq7S_PXuVCy2KBgJ_leQgLO14dppJcFq0D3zP88Gk_6Puuc/s1600/12+Years+a+Slave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMQg3aWusVCZOuVG0IaNUb90TEQUJnW7IjPhSr6zOg2IewTbe44kMgxyOVRFWtSN7EAeA8uXoctjyd_8LxUszw9vdh7-8gq7S_PXuVCy2KBgJ_leQgLO14dppJcFq0D3zP88Gk_6Puuc/s400/12+Years+a+Slave.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplOggZpFqqhIOB1M5pkpA-pBmYqB2crcL74liO_g3etX4JCf6dcYM3KLijUvMorFx2CSWhLOxn6AKM0ZZ-5CcEW7zlhJkZITgsrylG3luv-G5RLs8Wu954DnQwOu3hrKGqycGGYrbQH8/s1600/12+Years+a+Slave+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplOggZpFqqhIOB1M5pkpA-pBmYqB2crcL74liO_g3etX4JCf6dcYM3KLijUvMorFx2CSWhLOxn6AKM0ZZ-5CcEW7zlhJkZITgsrylG3luv-G5RLs8Wu954DnQwOu3hrKGqycGGYrbQH8/s320/12+Years+a+Slave+Info.png" width="276" /></a>Last year, my favorite film of the year was Quentin Tarantino’s <i>Django Unchained</i>. It was a catharsis of
sorts, a cartoonish revenge fantasy written and directed by a white man. It
took the seriousness of its subject matter and mixed in elements of blaxploitation
films to create a dark, but ultimately fun vision of Southern racism, slavery,
and American injustice. The satire at its core was a powerful indictment of the
savagery of entitled white males, and the double standard that
African-Americans face when vying for a bit of that power themselves.</div>
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Many African-Americans were horrified and angry about Tarantino’s
vision. Some, like Spike Lee, said they would never even see the film – yet another
example of a white man trying to impose his views and understanding on a black
man’s suffering. For a long time I was frustrated with these views. From my
perspective, I thought Tarantino was fair, reflective, and ultimately
empathetic.</div>
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After seeing Steve McQueen’s <i>12
Years a Slave</i>, I understand why so many blacks were angry. The depiction of
slavery, the discussions about it, and the heroes selected in our cinema have
been the property of white men. Sensitive, thoughtful, caring white men, but
white men nonetheless. McQueen has put together a remarkable film, a statement
about the inhuman institution of slavery, but from the black perspective. His
is the first film that treats whites—even the benevolent ones—as the “others”
who become the audiences objects of scorn, ridicule, pity, and shame. His is
also the first film in which white characters are not the heroes. Cinema has a
long tradition of films involving race issues to feature liberal whites who come
to the rescue of black characters. Most recently, we’ve had movies like <i>The Help</i>, <i>The Blind Side</i>, and even <i>Django
Unchained</i> to remind us how forward thinking, kind-hearted white people can
make life better for poor, pitiful black people.</div>
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Our hero is Solomon Northrup (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a free black man
living in Saratoga, NY with his beautiful young family. Solomon is a sought
after violinist, a respected member of his community, and well-educated. But it
is due to his talents and naïveté that he is able to be tricked by two white
kidnappers into following them to Washington, D.C. as a performer. One night,
Solomon is living the high life, dining and drinking with his new friends; the
next morning, he finds himself in chains, sold by his “friends” and with no
papers to prove his identity. His new slave owner, ironically named Freeman
(Paul Giamatti), bestows a slave name on Solomon – Platt. </div>
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As Platt, Solomon quickly learns that it doesn’t pay to show your
humanity, your intelligence, or you compassion. He is eventually sold to
another, more sympathetic owner, Ford (Benedict Cumberbatch), a minister who
warms up to Platt and even gifts him with a violin, which he hopes “will bring
us both great happiness in the years to come.” But, as Platt’s fellow slave,
Eliza (Adepero Oduye), points out, for all of Ford’s kindness, he still owns
slaves, he still sees them as property. This becomes apparent as Platt comes
into conflict with Ford’s hired white hand, Tibeats (Paul Dano), who tests
Platt’s self-respect and dignity with his simpering, jealous abuse of power.</div>
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Platt eventually winds up in the ownership of Edwin Epps (Michael
Fassbender), who is every bit as crazy as he is a merciless taskmaster. Epps
has developed a taste for the flesh of Patsey (Lupita Nyong’o), his best cotton
picker, which has caused significant conflict between himself and his wife
(Sarah Paulson). Their combined cruelty push Platt to the limits of despair,
especially in a climactic scene in which the totality of the horror of slavery,
both past, present, and future is laid bare.</div>
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McQueen’s cinema is brutal, uncompromising, but never exploitative. He
uses his darkest imagery – of Platt hanging from a tree by a noose as life on
the plantation goes on around him, of midnight dances in which bedclothed
slaves are forced to dance merrily for the benefit of the sadistic Epps and his
wife, of the worn, hopeless faces of the slaves – to force us to face the reality
of our history. He refuses to give us moments of levity to undermine the
horrors. There are negro spirituals, but they are sung with the despair of
those who only seem to half believe the words. Even the ending, which
inevitably features Solomon’s return home, is a moment of devastating beauty, a
culmination of pain and misery as opposed to the triumphant moment designed to
allow the audience to leave the theater feeling inspired and satisfied in the
knowledge of “well, glad <i>that’s</i>
history.” Instead we are left to ponder the fates of those who were not as
fortunate as Solomon Northrup – slaves like Patsey, whom he left behind to endure
more unspeakable acts and abuses at the hands of the Epps.</div>
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After watching <i>12 Years a Slave</i>,
I found myself questioning the way our society views racism and slavery. There
are many who believe that since there are no survivors of that era, we just
need to let it go. There are many who say we live in a post-racism society.
This film makes it clear that there is no end to it all. We may not be able to
own slaves any longer, but we can still own the philosophy, the inhuman
attitude that allows for discrimination and racism to exist. Our world is a far
cry from the world of Solomon Northrup, but it is still crying.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-82501126116261578462013-10-19T17:04:00.000-07:002013-10-19T17:04:24.365-07:00Carrie White Isn't Scary Anymore -- Reflections on "Carrie" (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZO8kpY8o-2TK16L73ZXDNVq8V4v84yxABvQtKX3CRXqTxoKmiimFus0JjBkj3VqubMy6UvStuB4CbzZidThZMPFU9yEhyphenhyphenNGy-CK2Gkos28hSSOWaGMbF1Mle4zo_3y53tj5v2Qb0Tio/s1600/Carrie+2013.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZO8kpY8o-2TK16L73ZXDNVq8V4v84yxABvQtKX3CRXqTxoKmiimFus0JjBkj3VqubMy6UvStuB4CbzZidThZMPFU9yEhyphenhyphenNGy-CK2Gkos28hSSOWaGMbF1Mle4zo_3y53tj5v2Qb0Tio/s320/Carrie+2013.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Z86AJknWxdRNsavVbCEoHwYPKuT8FoSKSXcI2RB1LmsBE3P1xXp2h6s66z3cVn2sVVCLrwyK7k1tXqNA6mjfKPC0r4apcopz2e5lX8z-07J7YqeFIMM0XhID4vL2QnadhtmzwMC5qko/s1600/Carrie+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Z86AJknWxdRNsavVbCEoHwYPKuT8FoSKSXcI2RB1LmsBE3P1xXp2h6s66z3cVn2sVVCLrwyK7k1tXqNA6mjfKPC0r4apcopz2e5lX8z-07J7YqeFIMM0XhID4vL2QnadhtmzwMC5qko/s320/Carrie+Info.png" width="254" /></a></div>
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The power of a horror film is often found in its cultural subtext. The
radioactive monster films of the 1950s were frightening in large part due to
the fact that the atomic bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
causing the world to find a new fear at the hands of radiation and all of its
devastating fallout. In the early 70s, more gritty and grisly horror films,
like Craven’s <i>The Last House on the Left</i>,
and Hooper’s <i>The Texas Chainsaw Massacre</i>
were informed by the atrocities in Vietnam that audiences were watching on
television every night. While these films stand on their own, for good and bad,
it’s impossible to completely separate them from the influence history had on
both the filmmakers and the audience.</div>
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By the time DePalma’s adaptation of <i>Carrie</i>
hit the big screen, our culture was in the midst of a war over abortion rights,
the Equal Rights Amendment, and a crippling recession. Vietnam had ended, Nixon
had resigned, and the aftermath of Watergate had taken its toll on the way
leaders were to be perceived for years to come. With these in mind, <i>Carrie</i> frightened audiences with its
story of a teen girl who discovers her sexual power later than most, and loses
control of it in the face of an ultra-religious, out of touch mother, an
apathetic school system that can only do so much, and the cruelty of her peers.
When Carrie White explodes with rage at her high school prom after being
drenched in pig’s blood, she is a not just an angry, exploited teenager at the
end of her rope, but a symbol of her gender, finally fed up with being bullied
and put in their place by a society incapable of dealing with their needs and
power.</div>
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Despite director Kimberly Peirce’s talents and sincere passion for the material,
she can’t overcome the fact that <i>Carrie</i>
is no longer a culturally relevant story. This is not her fault, nor the fault
of the fine stable of actors on the screen. <i>Carrie</i>
is a well-made, well-acted horror film, but its terrors never pack more than a
minor kick.</div>
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The biggest problem facing this film is our cultural climate. Women’s
rights are not as hotly debated as they were in the late 70s. This is not to
say there is not still a troubling undercurrent of misogyny and oppression in
our political world, or in the hearts of men across the country. Anyone who
witnessed Texas state congresswoman Wendy Davis’ passionate filibuster over
unfair abortion laws, or watched Paul Ryan embarrass himself by talking about
rape during the last Presidential race knows that we still have a long way to
go in terms of ensuring that America’s women are treated with the respect and
dignity they deserve. We just haven’t had a hot button issue arise, like the
Equal Rights Amendment, to get us talking again. Without the powerful presence
of these issues looming over our culture, <i>Carrie</i>
comes across less as a political story, and more as a story about the effects
of bullying.</div>
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<i>Carrie’s </i>take on bullying is
very on the nose. There is little complexity. From the moment we meet Carrie
White (Chloe Grace Moretz), we see her as a bullied child. She’s pelted with
tampons and maxi-pads after she has her first period in the high school shower
room. Kids spray paint “Carrie White Eats Shit” on the lockers, and her
principal can’t even remember her name. At home, her mother (Julianne Moore) is
another bully, using the Bible to subdue Carrie’s blossoming femininity, and locking
her in a prayer closet with bleeding statues of Christ. This is a miserable
child for whom the greatest tragedy is a masochistic desire to keep reaching
out for the love, support, and help of all those who continually betray and
hurt her. As interesting as it is, the message is too simplistic – “bullying is
bad,” the movie constantly tells us, and the congregation is supposed to say “Aye!”</div>
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When Carrie discovers she has telekinetic powers, she is at first
scared, but then elated. For the first time in her life, something is under her
control. This is a sexual awakening as much as anything else; Moretz’s face
takes on a near orgasmic look as she levitates books and bed in the privacy of
her room while her mother washes dishes and listens to gospel music on the radio.
The film is at its best when Carrie is discovering her powers, and using them.
It’s obvious this is the story the director wanted to tell, but by constantly
bouncing back and forth between Carrie’s mom, the concerned gym teacher, and
the bullies plotting their revenge, the film seems to get caught up in
ruminations on guilt, sin, and penance.</div>
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By the time we get to the movie’s climax—which most everyone already
knows, even if they were born in the last decade—the explosion is more of a
relief than it is a tension-inducing nightmare. Without something under the
surface fueling the horror, everything on the surface felt flat, forced, and expected.
Who was Carrie really angry with? The bullies? The school? Her mother? When
Sissy Spacek raged at the world, she was the ghost of all those oppressed women
who came before her, fighting against the systems designed to hold them back.
When Chloe Grace Moretz does the same, she just seems to be doing it for
herself, which just isn’t as terrifying. Justified, but not particularly scary.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
None of this, though, has anything to do with the film’s competence. I
was impressed with the craftsmanship and the care that went into it. Obviously,
everyone involved knew they were remaking a revered, iconic classic, and really
wanted to hit the ball out of the park. It’s not their fault that they are
merely a weak echo of what came before. Carrie White just isn’t as scary as she
used to be.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-78500433072620569202013-10-10T23:45:00.000-07:002013-10-10T23:45:08.171-07:00Appreciating the Experience -- Reflections on "Gravity" (2013)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmViixCe7bKrQdv35H068jLVScCNBuNj-epzsJmLtf_e2lmkzdefls72DexQJMnVs6VgXXtxSpOcm-ElK8HWpNh1W3vKGKUQz1MImfjqSk6hyphenhyphen8O4KXcl1zGMBPTy7RmGnyWaeyOQQOP4/s1600/Gravity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmViixCe7bKrQdv35H068jLVScCNBuNj-epzsJmLtf_e2lmkzdefls72DexQJMnVs6VgXXtxSpOcm-ElK8HWpNh1W3vKGKUQz1MImfjqSk6hyphenhyphen8O4KXcl1zGMBPTy7RmGnyWaeyOQQOP4/s400/Gravity.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBBdnF31v4MxAgDOKX-IkAgskMyw4X0G1em0dSxd3Dn6M-zC-77U7qNPqBJzXg9dQET2nVeyOkmyHiLecOWskIEY9nVnQDdzYjI69djR_IleWxLnu6ZzgcidMmnPkibB8MUkShL6C7ZA/s1600/Gravity+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBBdnF31v4MxAgDOKX-IkAgskMyw4X0G1em0dSxd3Dn6M-zC-77U7qNPqBJzXg9dQET2nVeyOkmyHiLecOWskIEY9nVnQDdzYjI69djR_IleWxLnu6ZzgcidMmnPkibB8MUkShL6C7ZA/s320/Gravity+Info.png" width="274" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Writing about movies you love is quite challenging when everyone
seems to love them for the same reasons you do. Alfonso Cuarón’s <i>Gravity</i> is one of these films. Since its release last week, every
corner of the internet has been heaping superlatives at its feet. This makes it
tough sharing the film’s points of greatness – the mesmerizing special effects,
the intensity of the soundtrack, Sandra Bullock’s performance, Cuarón’s
insistence on lengthy shot durations that spring his cinematic world to life –
without coming across as derivative…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, regardless of these shared praises and plaudits, I
loved the <i>experience</i>. <i>Gravity</i> is one of the few films in which
I have felt inclined to shut my mind down and simply enjoy the action. I became
engrossed in the survival story of Dr. Ryan Stone (Bullock), who clings on to
life, despite having very little to live for back on earth. With each passing
moment, my heart wrenched, my gut cinched, and my eyes waltzed across Cuarón’s
elegant compositions. After the film, I posted on Facebook, “This is why I go
to the movies.” <i>Gravity</i> is such an
amazing, visceral experience that when it was over, I was breathless and
exhausted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That breathlessness begins with an elaborate 12-minute
opening shot that floats impossibly in space. The camera weaves and bobs and
dances, keeping a deep focus as objects and people come into its orbit. The
film begins in extreme long shot, eventually maneuvers into an extreme close up
of a hand grasping a floating bolt, and finally chronicles the savage destruction
of the Hubble space telescope. Combining the risk of working in space with the
grandeur of hovering hundreds of miles above earth is overwhelming. Space is
beautiful, but so are spider webs, and their beauty often masks a terrible
trap. Leaving the film, I found my mind wandering into these thoughts, like a
12-year old looking at the stars and thinking about seeing them up close and
personal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The movie that follows is a roller coaster. It climbs, it
drops, it spirals, it flips, it exhilarates. At 90 minutes, there is little
time to catch your breath and reflect. The experience is rapturous, and it is a
ride I want to go on again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not to say, though, that the film is without a
brain. Quite the opposite. Part of the joy is the thoughts that come after the
film ends; reliving the imagery still seared on your memory.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the most enduring images is that of Dr. Stone coiled
into a fetal position shortly after getting to safety the first time. The
obvious embryonic symbol is nonetheless gorgeous, appropriate, and speaks to
our desire to be made whole through nurturing. Dr. Stone is a woman haunted by
losing a child to a senseless accident, and she has entered space as a broken
woman, trying to fix a broken telescope. Yet, once the situation worsens, she
longs to return to the safety of the womb, where she can hope to be born again.
Bullock’s impressive performance brought tears to my eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The final image of Dr. Stone emerging from the muddy waters
after nearly drowning is a stunning parallel to the fetal image earlier in the
film. She comes full circle, and arises, wobbly as a day old colt, from the
waters renewed and whole. Some have claimed that this film is too simple, as if
having a straightforward narrative is a problem, but images like these evoke
something elemental within us, reminding us of what we all long for as human
beings – to have a place in this world, to be whole and cleansed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cuarón’s masterpiece is primordial, and does not speak to
the head, or heart, but to the soul. This is why I love the film. Just like Dr.
Stone, I, too, wanted to live after going on this perilous journey. And that is
why I love going to the movies. At their finest, they make us thirst for life,
love, and liberty. This is what <i>Gravity</i>
did to me, and as I finish this review, I suddenly realize I no longer care if
anyone else has said the same. </div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-90823602782664615342013-09-06T23:39:00.000-07:002013-09-06T23:40:04.392-07:00Ounce of Life -- Reflections on "Amour" (2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUtVstjNQAc0RblvdS_oNEZ9402LQvZUyOPXYgz6j6v5BE53XHTr6sFGyo_WinpoZVVawqCMG3lj0CrkNMStF70yeDWtc56XtIEtXo4O8xauUKHUHvNWEGnhejeYuV8lJjF_srZ0QSW0/s1600/Amour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUtVstjNQAc0RblvdS_oNEZ9402LQvZUyOPXYgz6j6v5BE53XHTr6sFGyo_WinpoZVVawqCMG3lj0CrkNMStF70yeDWtc56XtIEtXo4O8xauUKHUHvNWEGnhejeYuV8lJjF_srZ0QSW0/s400/Amour.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJdOHGJgT1ZPkiky2Hf8tj6c8PJJLSOXQy9gIUS3JXkGYlkf2PX4CuhOpxOlrwUmqn_KU3xUUMlEGckro55kkF9oIZiAAavQVmBSqOJ3dAhIAZUoQ571YYORm5OXYvdQCnbD3bz1jOHg/s1600/Amour+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJdOHGJgT1ZPkiky2Hf8tj6c8PJJLSOXQy9gIUS3JXkGYlkf2PX4CuhOpxOlrwUmqn_KU3xUUMlEGckro55kkF9oIZiAAavQVmBSqOJ3dAhIAZUoQ571YYORm5OXYvdQCnbD3bz1jOHg/s320/Amour+Info.png" width="274" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Several years ago I wrote what I consider the only good song I’ve ever
produced. “Ounce of Life” was the title, and the chorus went like this:</div>
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<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I’ll hold on</i><br /><i>To your love</i><br /><i>Till every ounce of life is gone.</i></blockquote>
</blockquote>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The story behind the song is simple and compelling, like I imagine it
is for most songs. According to a friend of my ex-wife, her grandmother awoke one
morning, went about the usual morning business, then made breakfast for herself
and her husband. When she returned to the bedroom, breakfast tray in hand, she
discovered her husband motionless and unresponsive. After a few panicky
moments, she was forced to realize he was dead. Grandmother then did something
poetic.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
She curled beside her husband and held him until all the warmth left his
body.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Michael Haneke’s devastating film <i>Amour</i>
returned me to the psychic place I lived when I wrote that song. His take on
the enduring power of love—and the sacrifices one must make to restore the
dignity of their beloved—is harsh, unrelenting, but ultimately human. Haneke
forces us to watch two people die over two hours, and provides us no comfort, no
trite platitudes, no release.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignent) and Anne (Emmanuelle Riva) are a
happily married octogenarian couple. They are retired teachers enjoying their
golden years together, attending concerts of former pupils, and living
vicariously through the drama of their daughter’s globetrotting life. Then
tragedy hits: Anne suffers a stroke. Georges becomes her caretaker, and has to
deal with the blessing and burden of nursing her. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
This plot is far from complex. It has an inevitability which only adds
to Haneke’s despairing tone. We know from the breathtaking opening shot Anne
will be paid tribute in death, positioned in peaceful repose and surrounded by
simple, yet beautiful white flowers. So, with each brutal moment Georges feeds
her, or tries to help her rehab, we are fully aware death is coming. The only
thing to ease its arrival is the titular power of love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And what a love it is. The love Georges and Anne share is among that
most real, honest, and touching I’ve ever encountered in a film. The
performances of Trintignent and Riva never slide into caricature or sentiment,
as lesser actors might be inclined to do with such raw material. Riva in
particular is remarkably bold, revealing Anne’s feisty spirit in her most
despondent moments. One which resonates most with me involves Georges trying to
encourage Anne to drink water from a sipper cup after her second stroke. He
finally manages to force her, but Anne refuses to swallow, eventually spitting the
water into his face. Helpless, incontinent, paralyzed, and mute, she chooses
dehydration and possible death over the hell she is in, and rejects her husband’s
selfish attempts to keep her alive. But Georges is helpless, too, as incapable
of helping her as he is incapable of watching her die – so he slaps her across
the face before collapsing against her, begging for forgiveness. Listening to
his tear-stained pleas brought me to tears myself.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The beauty, yet most disheartening element, of Haneke’s ode is recognizing
the fate of Georges and Anne is the fate of us all. The hourglass is tipping
its scales against us, and there is no stopping it. While most mainstream
Hollywood films fill their frames with people dying in blazes of glory, Haneke
reminds us of a bitter truth. Most of us will die ignoble deaths, shit staining
our diapers, drool percolating in the corners of our mouth, all the while at
the mercy of those we love the most. We live to die, <i>Amour</i> constantly reminds us, from its elegiac piano score to the
mausoleum-inspired décor of Georges and Anne’s home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But this reality is tempered by love, of course. It is only love that
redeems Georges and Anne and brings nobility to their suffering. It is the only
force in the world that has the chance to make meaning of the meaningless. It
is love that compels a man to honor his wife in those vulnerable, dying embers
of her life, and love that draws a woman into one final embrace with her dead
husband. Love and death are all we have, Haneke whispers in the film’s closing
moments.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
So let’s hold onto those we love, until every ounce of life is gone.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-19134842046752102952013-08-02T23:19:00.000-07:002013-08-02T23:19:42.953-07:00The Face of Evil -- Reflections on "The Act of Killing" (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VfOOIRnPsYES3XirU8fGYhxXTgDZXiZ0wi9Mco0opKjMpDUkbjXKeI3ySxSq9akClTuEIzLG4VXgTs7dAG_2KFGHB1Tzt5HlQupADrDWVYOa6nEODjOPUk_3ACGpCIrWFa7SbEFFPdg/s1600/The+Act+of+Killing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VfOOIRnPsYES3XirU8fGYhxXTgDZXiZ0wi9Mco0opKjMpDUkbjXKeI3ySxSq9akClTuEIzLG4VXgTs7dAG_2KFGHB1Tzt5HlQupADrDWVYOa6nEODjOPUk_3ACGpCIrWFa7SbEFFPdg/s320/The+Act+of+Killing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0hZpDf0-c3Xgby3YFsq6vt0KplP1j-sjLD8m9r_-1lpcEBGu5ct48bJ6BtCQKqNEAXMljObjM1HZDq7TSCuWznvLhsmPohIc44YNoyKmOAHBETvZYA1twyAOUcfRuGsETLQFV4Vou5w/s1600/The+Act+of+Killing+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0hZpDf0-c3Xgby3YFsq6vt0KplP1j-sjLD8m9r_-1lpcEBGu5ct48bJ6BtCQKqNEAXMljObjM1HZDq7TSCuWznvLhsmPohIc44YNoyKmOAHBETvZYA1twyAOUcfRuGsETLQFV4Vou5w/s320/The+Act+of+Killing+Info.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
What does true evil look like? Is it the demonically possessed face of
Linda Blair, or more recently, Lili Taylor? Is it a redneck in a mask made of
human flesh? A cannibal in a business suit?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
True evil is the reflection we see in the mirror: unaware, oblivious,
unrecognizable. It lurks inside each of us, in our hearts and minds, just
waiting for the opportunity to be unleashed. Plato wrote:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Those who practice justice do so involuntarily because they do not
have the power to be unjust. Imagine that we can give the just man and the
unjust man the ability to do whatever they will. Let us watch them and see
where desire will lead them. Then we will discover that they walk along the
same road, follow their own interest which all men naturally deem to be their
greatest good, and are only diverted onto the path of justice by fear of the
law.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
When there is no accountability, men will do whatever is in their own
best interest for the sake of “the greater good,” which is really only selfish
reward. Without laws to govern us and keep us honest, the weak will become the
victims of the strong, and the only morality will be that which is defined by
those with the most power.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Joshua Oppenheimer’s documentary <i>The
Act of Killing</i> reveals this philosophical argument by telling the stories
of a few men who were at the center of genocide in Indonesia in 1965-66. Over a
million people were senselessly slaughtered when a new military regime took
power. To the new dictatorship, these people were “Communists,” representing a
threat to the state. Local gangsters and paramilitary leaders were employed to
carry out the business of death and took to it with horrible efficiency, callousness,
and style.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
One of these killers is a gangster named Anwar Congo. He is a
charismatic old man with spider like features, creepy dentures, and a love for
Hollywood cinema. With detached joy, he tells us about the killings he oversaw,
how he helped develop the wire strangulation technique that solved messy bloodlettings,
and the way movies influenced his fashion and sadism. Early in the film, Anwar
is a frightening figure, his stories made more disturbing by the glee in his
telling. Yet, he is haunted by nightmares, which he thinks may be caused by one
particular death in which he failed to close the eyes on a head he severed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Oppenheimer’s film would be a pretty compelling documentary if it were
just a character study, or a history lesson about a period in global history of
which many in the western world are probably not aware. But he has greater aims
here. He collaborates with Congo and his friends to help them recreate their
experiences during the genocide in whichever cinematic genres they desire. The
killers, obsessed with Hollywood cinema, take to this with joy, creating scenes
that mimic war films, gangster crime dramas, musicals, and westerns. Not only
does this decision create opportunities for authentic interaction between the
participants, it fully reveals the state of mind of men responsible for mass
murder.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
These are men who believed themselves to be heroes. They were John
Wayne, liberating their nation in the name of truth and justice. They were
gangsters, or “free men” as the term is continually defined by politicians,
living as they choose and making their country safe from outsiders. From their
perspective, this was nothing to lose sleep over, nothing to feel guilty about;
their country needed them to eliminate undesirables who sought to destroy their
ways of life, and they did so out of duty and desire. One of the killers, Adi
Zulkadry, puts it this way: “<span style="background: white;">When Bush was in
power, Guantanamo was right. [Bush claimed] Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass
destruction. That was right, according to Bush, but now it's wrong. The Geneva
Conventions may be today's morality, but tomorrow we'll have the Jakarta
Conventions…</span>”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The face of true evil does not see itself as evil. It sees itself as
fully justified, doing things for the greater good. Killing millions looks bad,
sure, but it saved a nation according to those in power. And it also brought
the killers fame and notoriety. Anwar Congo is a celebrity in his country, and
he and his friends make this film and openly talk about their crimes against
humanity because they do not feel shame in their choices. At one point, another
of Anwar’s associates, Safit Pardede, boasts to a group of friends about the
14-year old girls he raped in the Communist villages: “I told them it will be
hell for you but heaven for me.” He tells this story as naturally as we share
our funny, interesting anecdotes with friends over summer barbeque.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Yet, <i>The Act of Killing</i> is at
its best when it avoids judgment of these men. As we watch Anwar walk them
through a scene visualizing his nightmares, or when he re-watches a clip of
himself in the role of a victim being interrogated and murdered, we find ourselves
sympathizing with him. If the film had merely set up its story for us to look
down on these men for being so brutal and sadistic, it would have no power. Of
course they’re bad guys. Bad guys are easy to objectify and hate. Instead, we
are given clear pictures of these men’s’ lives, their reasons for what they
did, and how, in many ways, they were pawns of a government (assisted financially
by the U.S. and other western nations during the genocide) devoted to solidifying
power through fear and death. Not being able to judge these men is the most
disturbing element of the film – and lends such incredible power to that
emotionally powerful moment when watching the interrogation clip causes Anwar
to have a personal revelation about the nature of his soul.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
As a documentary, <i>The Act of
Killing</i> is something new and unique. We’ve had many documentary films over
the years devoted to chronicling the most insidious people and institutions in
our world; Holocaust documentaries are legion, and others have been made about
Darfur, Rwanda, and Bosnia. Instead of reporting the facts, taking a
fly-on-the-wall approach, or contorting information as a political statement,
Oppenheimer collaborates with his subjects to create art which imitates both
life and art. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>The Act of Killing</i> is truly a
postmodern work of documentary filmmaking, yet without the irony and satire
that are hallmarks of this era. It is sincere, passionate, and inspired. It is
revolutionary in form and content. The only documentary in recent memory that
has come close in form is <i>Exit through
the Gift Shop</i>, which was also a collaboration between filmmaker and
subject, yet that film was meant as a feature length practical joke, satirizing
the simple minded approach of most documentaries; it lacked the universal
themes and scale of <i>The Act of Killing</i>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
On a personal level, this film really disturbed me. I couldn’t leave my
seat right away after the credits – many of which were attributed to “anonymous”.
The final moments of the film are jarring, unresolved, lacking catharsis, and
left me devastated. Alone, Anwar Congo revisits the place where he had
personally killed hundreds of people. Suddenly, he is overwhelmed by the
reality of what he had done, and he turns to vomit. The retching sounds are
horrific, and seem to continue forever, but nothing comes out of him. It’s as
if the evil can’t leave him. He may want the sort of heroic redemption the lie
of Hollywood films promise, but there is none to be had.</div>
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Five of the people in attendance at my screening left near the end. If
asked why, I imagine they’d just say they didn’t like it, but it wouldn’t
surprise me if what they didn’t like was not being allowed to thoroughly hate
the face of evil on screen. After all, it’s hard to hate your own.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-22406912746162762892013-07-30T15:13:00.000-07:002013-07-30T15:13:36.119-07:00Feminism CAN be Funny! -- Reflections on "The To Do List" (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eyKLNk7LqPOfIUJbMEkq0x3Y5DKp_0Ae6f8S7POt7vTkNdLsJlsSdqYJN_YIIqmFEDLw4qAnNFJsEkiwNEPNKBPrbPGWun6z240JSoGP8hpkOWGyurGKLI0VzgzGBuR7apBt1hkFBXo/s1600/The+To+Do+List.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eyKLNk7LqPOfIUJbMEkq0x3Y5DKp_0Ae6f8S7POt7vTkNdLsJlsSdqYJN_YIIqmFEDLw4qAnNFJsEkiwNEPNKBPrbPGWun6z240JSoGP8hpkOWGyurGKLI0VzgzGBuR7apBt1hkFBXo/s320/The+To+Do+List.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkoUIGKj7cfTJOl27WEeExvmLf1gklGh96nNKJW2mWjhbk6nknXyPtXYACRSLX4DtiK-IUbuSncNL9CHPAE3x8kB1aqH0eD2ecZMrcpnijA7THVCk2OUzsbt2zVoPPhcBC83Nd6ja7Eg/s1600/The+To+Do+List+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkoUIGKj7cfTJOl27WEeExvmLf1gklGh96nNKJW2mWjhbk6nknXyPtXYACRSLX4DtiK-IUbuSncNL9CHPAE3x8kB1aqH0eD2ecZMrcpnijA7THVCk2OUzsbt2zVoPPhcBC83Nd6ja7Eg/s320/The+To+Do+List+Info.png" width="274" /></a></div>
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Gloria Steinhem, the noted feminist and spiritual guide for <i>The To Do List</i>, famously said: “Any
woman who chooses to behave like a full human being should be warned that the
armies of the status quo will treat her as something of a dirty joke. That’s
their natural and first weapon. She will need her sisterhood.” This quote may
well be the thesis statement of Maggie Carey’s sex comedy. <i>The To Do List</i> is a remarkably political film in a racy package; <i>American Pie</i> for feminists.</div>
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The typically deadpan Aubrey Plaza stars as Valedictorian virgin,
Brandy Klark, who gets a wake-up call at a post-graduation kegger in the form
of male Adonis Rusty Waters (Scott Porter). Her libido, repressed by years of
focusing solely on her education, is stirred, and in order to conquer it, Brandy
compiles a “to do” list of sexual activities to help her prepare for the
Herculean task of having sex with Rusty. The majority of the journey follows
Brandy as she uses a variety of male teen clichés for sexual favors, from the
sensitive dweeb Cameron (Johnny Simmons) to predatory nerd Duffy (Christopher
Mintz-Plasse) to pretentious grunge rocker Van (Andy Samberg). Along the way,
she’s aided by her two sexually experienced friends (Alia Shawkat and Sarah
Steele) and her older sister (Rachel Bilson).</div>
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Maggie Carey’s intent with this film is to show us what a romantic sex
comedy would look like with a woman as the lead. <i>The To Do List</i> picks up where <i>Bridesmaids</i>
left off last year. And while that film focused almost exclusively on female
friendship and used female sexual aggression and liberation as a dirty joke, <i>The To Do List</i> takes the opposite tact.
Sex is front and center, but the physical act is only part of it – the dirty
secret is that this film wants us to reconsider what sex as gender means to us.
In this movie the female is the aggressor, taking charge of her sexuality, and
challenging the status quo. She is reading both Cosmo and Penthouse to
understand her role in the physical act of lovemaking, but also determine the
role she <i>wants to play</i>. Brandy is not
a woman upon whom sex is thrust, but who thrusts herself upon sex.</div>
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By putting Brandy in the traditional male role, the film completely
objectifies its male characters, especially Scott Porter’s Rusty Waters. His
name itself implies that he is unclean, impure, and despite his physical
beauty, worth nothing of true value to Brandy. She pursues him for pure lustful
reasons, just as any boy pursues a girl in similar films, and the effect is not
just funny, but uncomfortable. Looking at Internet Movie Database, <i>The To Do List</i> has a score of 5.4/10. I
suspect many men are confounded by this movie, even a bit upset, because Brandy’s
pursuit of sexual fulfillment puts her squarely in the driver’s seat, and no
matter how much testosterone a man has, or how many sensitive tears he cries
can make her submit to his will. At one point in the film Brandy brings up a
quote by Steinhem about how women are only seen as virgins or sluts, and I
believe this holds true for the majority of our society, who are unwilling to
allow women to “behave like a full human being,” which involves exploring
sexuality.</div>
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Throughout the film, men are confounded by the women around them.
Brandy’s dad (Clark Gregg) can’t handle her mother’s (Connie Britton) desire to
give her daughter the sex talk, and has a hard time handling deeper truths
about his own wife’s sexual experience. The boys who get involved with Brandy
are just as inexperienced as she is sexually, but are incapable of owning it as
proudly as she does. And the one man who is supposed to be her mentor, Willy
(Bill Hader) the community swimming pool manager, is so clueless about the
sexual seas around him that he literally is unable to swim without Brandy’s
assistance. None of the men accept Brandy’s quest on her terms, refusing to see
her as anything other than the roles they have assigned her from their
perspective: virginal daughter, easy slut, girl next door, virginal conquest,
kid sister. She is never Brandy to them.</div>
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And that is why this movie is so damn funny. It refuses to allow us to
view these men as anything other than objects, just as nearly all of our American
male-centric sex comedies have done to women. This movie is a great comedy, and
like many great comedies it is also a political statement.</div>
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It’s weird to review comedies this way. I imagine most readers will
think I’m looking too deeply into a film that is “just a sex comedy.” We are
wired to believe that comedies are light entertainment, and all the serious
thematic discussions should be reserved for drama. On top of that, writing
seriously about comedy seems to strip all the fun out of the gags – after all,
who wants to go to the theater to see a comedy and spend 90 minutes thinking
about issues of modern feminism while watching Aubrey Plaza force a dude to
drink pineapple juice before giving him a blowjob?</div>
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But I’d like to think that after you’ve had your laughs – and this
movie delivers in that department consistently – you’d stop and think about why
you’re laughing. Is it because of the shock of seeing a girl eat shit floating
in a swimming pool, or because you suddenly realize that women have been eating
shit the shit of sexual oppression and false labeling for centuries and that
this film has the balls to make it literal. The best comedy – the memorable
comedy – has subtext. Time will tell if <i>The
To Do List</i> will join the ranks of feminist comedies like <i>Fast Times at Ridgemont High</i> and <i>There’s Something About Mary</i>, but it’s
off to a good start. </div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-67724105808594821202013-07-28T16:26:00.001-07:002013-07-28T16:27:01.370-07:00What I've Been Watching - July 2013<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXQNlIh_SOixAvV3FLrpuKqb46dU1fSAYhg4kYyjny1opjggyfzhM6krra36TNOJWI2poujZT6CwDvnyKixWlRKzsUhYRsgLRVZn37lMcgixnIUtz3WQ-ypfBqCoRFzP11WFV-LjukNw/s1600/Celeste+and+Jesse+Forever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXQNlIh_SOixAvV3FLrpuKqb46dU1fSAYhg4kYyjny1opjggyfzhM6krra36TNOJWI2poujZT6CwDvnyKixWlRKzsUhYRsgLRVZn37lMcgixnIUtz3WQ-ypfBqCoRFzP11WFV-LjukNw/s320/Celeste+and+Jesse+Forever.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
<i>Celeste and Jesse Forever</i> **
1/2 (2012) – dir. Lee Toland Krieger<br />
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Penned by Rashida Jones, <i>Celeste
and Jesse Forever</i>, co-starring Andy Samberg, is a cute, sincere, and
occasionally funny romantic comedy. Unfortunately, it is anchored by a messy
script and kitchen sink direction by Lee Toland Krieger, who can’t decide if
he’s shooting a Kate Hudson rom-com, or something more French New Wave.</div>
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Celeste (Rashida Jones) and Jesse (Andy Samberg) are a divorcing couple
still living together as best friends. This freaks out their friends, and
clouds their own feelings for each other. So, they work to find themselves by
finding happiness with other partners. When Jesse knocks up Veronica, a
look-alike foil for Celeste’s type-A “Betty,” Celeste is forced into a lot of
self-examination. The plot is very similar to the Greta Gerwig rom-com <i>Lola Versus</i>, which was released around
the same time, and I don’t mean that as a compliment.</div>
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Two things really bugged me about this movie. First, most of the drama
takes place off screen, requiring lots of expository dialogue, inevitably
followed by emotional reactions to situations we were not allowed to see. Relying
on all this explanation wastes any goodwill the stars' chemistry creates in the
early moments, makes the movie feel too long (at only 92 minutes), and ruins two
strong climatic moments. </div>
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The other thing annoying me was how Jesse is missing from the
self-examination storyline. After the film gives him a few moments away from
Celeste, it abandons him, depriving us the opportunity to see how a man in his
situation deals with the frustration and heartache of genuine separation.
Celeste becomes our sole focus character, and while Jones gives the role her
all, it’s not an uncommon role in romantic films these days; she’s a career
minded woman in love with a man child she is trying to change, but needs to
have a change of heart before she can either truly love him, or love him enough
to let him go. This is a cliché, but the only thing keeping the film from being
loathsome is the idea that we’re seeing this relationship at its end, and that
Jones has such incredible charisma. Had the script invested more time
paralleling Jesse’s growth, instead of dealing with 99 percent of it off
screen, Celeste’s journey would have had more emotional impact. I imagine the
rough draft of the script did this, but time and budget probably left several
choice scenes on the cutting room floor. If so, the film is lesser because of
it.</div>
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This saddens me. I wanted to enjoy <i>Celeste
and Jesse Forever, </i>but<i> </i>while it
shined in individual moments, and the cast’s chemistry was fun, the end result
was a squandered romance.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMI_BUn2D8FUMpWnLmJvOGgghPjNC19aJBXcOHRQsoEOl9XZ8lSiM-tg-vU_ZEfJY9jU-0YPECn0xyhLN8atUfTzAWLHvNfnNNBJ-bZADggd9xC601USB4Gsuiht0gnOWZnaGraX7CFjA/s1600/Smashed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMI_BUn2D8FUMpWnLmJvOGgghPjNC19aJBXcOHRQsoEOl9XZ8lSiM-tg-vU_ZEfJY9jU-0YPECn0xyhLN8atUfTzAWLHvNfnNNBJ-bZADggd9xC601USB4Gsuiht0gnOWZnaGraX7CFjA/s320/Smashed.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
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<i>Smashed</i> ***1/2 (2012) – dir.
James Ponsoldt</div>
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Pure and simple, <i>Smashed</i> is
an actor’s showcase. Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Aaron Paul take what were mere
sketches of characters and imbue them with remarkable humanity and passion.
What they accomplish here is important because on the surface, <i>Smashed</i> is quite unremarkable. Kate
(Winstead) is an elementary school teacher who comes to discover she is an
alcoholic. Charlie (Paul) is her equally alcoholic husband. Their world turns
upside-down the moment Kate decides to go to AA at the behest of a co-worker
(Nick Offerman) who recognizes addiction when he sees it. Kate’s choice is
predictable, as is much of the film’s thin story, but Winstead’s commitment to
her character’s journey makes the film powerful and riveting.</div>
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Films about overcoming addiction are not usually that interesting,
mostly because the story rhythms are so contrived, and because the victory at
the end is overshadowed by the exploitative elements of the initial fall. The
best decision that writer/director James Ponsoldt makes here is in making this
a story about the way being sober affects marriage. The moment Kate chooses
sobriety, her husband becomes her enemy whether he knows it or not. His
presence is a constant reminder of who she was, and who she is worried she
might still be. It’s a battle of worldviews, one cancerous, and one on
remarkably shaky ground. Winstead and Paul always play the notes with such
honesty that we feel like we’re watching the collapse of something real.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW_nyIpc5ZhQw_T4aCPmJ3J0jy_407t4anENEF00QzmKAh48eQcedwdpl5lxcimvPkhzhongc_JQYr06PMWOU-mAe6DSNVdl_yAA6a9bwk8RP7Byaz7_D2dUtOoMigF7tIuT47KP4CmE/s1600/Rust+and+Bone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW_nyIpc5ZhQw_T4aCPmJ3J0jy_407t4anENEF00QzmKAh48eQcedwdpl5lxcimvPkhzhongc_JQYr06PMWOU-mAe6DSNVdl_yAA6a9bwk8RP7Byaz7_D2dUtOoMigF7tIuT47KP4CmE/s320/Rust+and+Bone.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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<i>Rust and Bone*** </i>(2012) –
dir. Jacques Audiard</div>
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<i>Rust and Bone</i> is a French
neo-realist film in the tradition of Italian films like Bresson’s <i>Pickpocket</i> and de Sica’s <i>The Bicycle Thief</i>, only done in a more
modern, independent film style. The pacing of the plot unfolds at a snail’s
pace until suddenly you’re struck by a moment of remarkable emotional impact.
It is the story of a wayward boxer named Ali (<span class="itemprop"><span style="background: white;">Matthias Schoenaerts)</span></span> who is trying to
figure out how to be a father and a man; and about a woman, Stephanie (Marion
Cotillard) who is rediscovering what it means to be a woman in the aftermath of
a horrible accident that takes her legs. The fact that their lives cross at all
is a wonder, but their path to love is full of self-discovery.</div>
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Cotillard’s performance is beautiful, especially in the early going
after she loses her legs. The scene in which Ali takes her swimming in the
ocean for the first time since her accident is overflowing with hard won joy.
Her Stephanie is every bit as much a fighter as Ali, and she gains her inner
strength from his physical strength. When she’s on screen, the film is
powerful, electric, and real.</div>
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Unfortunately, it’s the scenes with Schoenaerts that seem to drag the
film at times. Ali is the traditional silent type – he seems fashioned after
Anthony Quinn’s Zampano in <i>La Strada</i>
– and while Schoenaerts plays silent and brooding well, he lacks nuance in
scenes when basic brutality is not enough. His scenes opposite his sister are
almost excruciating to watch, especially when compared to his scenes opposite
Stephanie.</div>
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When <i>Rust and Bone</i> is good,
though, it’s often great. Audiard goes to great lengths to connect us with
these characters, so whenever he allows for <i>deus
ex machina </i>contrivances, we are still remarkably affected.</div>
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<i>No</i> ***1/2 – dir. Pablo
Larrain</div>
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American films are all about heroes. Individuals rise against the
opposing forces of government, society, family, conspiracies, etc. to overcome
great odds and establish a better, newer order. The heroes of American films mainly
stand for freedom, individuality, and capitalism. In foreign films, though,
there is often a different concept of what a hero stands for. <i>No</i>, the story of the 1988 campaign
against the brutal dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet in Chile, may be a Spanish
language film, but it is decidedly American in attitude and structure … at
least until the end.</div>
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Our hero is Rene Saavedra (Gael Garcia Bernal), a rising star in the
world of Chilean advertising. He is approached by a member of the “No” campaign
against Pinochet to be their creative supervisor. Rene decides to join the
cause after he witnesses his estranged wife, Veronica, get beaten by police for
speaking out against the regime. His idea is to abandon the negative, fear
mongering principles of the current creatives and focus on a simple concept:
happiness. His “Chile: Happiness is Coming” campaign – while initially controversial
for its very American-esque use of jingles, music video editing, staged images
of happy Chilean people, and positivity – becomes a such a threat to the “Yes”
campaign that Rene and the rest of his team soon find themselves fearing for
their safety and that of their families.</div>
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Rene is a hero in the American tradition. Among the many people
responsible for the “No” campaign, he is our focal point and savior. I think I
would have found the movie to be an effective, quality film if it had ended
with merely this thought in mind. After all, years of American movies have
trained me to feel good when individuals win out over totalitarian dictators.
But, (spoiler alert) the win over Pinochet leaves Rene in a world of
uncertainty, making him not just an individual, but a representative of the
soul of Chile itself. His ambivalence over his victory is best exemplified in
the final scene, which ironically displays what the future has in store for his
beloved country. Rene may be a hero, but he is a hero whose contribution to the
end of one regime may have contributed to the reign of an entirely different –
and possibly more nefarious – one. Most American films would be unwilling to
challenge its audience with ambiguity like this – our heroes may be dark and
conflicted now, but unless they are on cable network television shows, once
they decide to cross the threshold into adventureland, they are definitely not
ambiguous.</div>
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The look of the film goes to great lengths to highlight this. Director
Pablo Larrain decides to shoot the film in a 4:3 aspect ratio, and with a video
style that looks like we’re watching VHS tapes from the 80s. It’s a bold move
that pays off. The movie feels real and dangerous, like history itself.</div>
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I imagine this would be the time to call “bullshit,” but I suggest
watching <i>No</i> back-to-back with last
year’s Best Picture winner, <i>Argo</i> (a
movie in my year end top 10). The two films are about lone heroes who use the
media to deliver oppressed people from terrible dictatorships. <i>Argo</i> delivers on everything American
movies have represented over the last hundred-plus years (with one slight
exception involving its explanation of Iranian political history that does an
outstanding job of revealing the complexities of the situation the audience
finds the characters in). <i>No</i> uses the
American aesthetic and rides it to victory until it reveals that this aesthetic
was both the <i>solution</i> and the <i>problem</i> all along. Did Chile sell its
soul to the American devil of advertising, which promises happiness that it
ultimately cannot deliver?</div>
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<i>No</i> isn’t just a film about
Chile’s past, it’s a film about its present.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHvBmLn1GVzKpc7hg5rAeSassEmLAsExe7YmVbavshBOGzUansEC27FGhyTE5XjB-4z_5uO0pDAbVfRD_MmT3bNPzVCYfKbyJ5_X6neC_66cVgK48725zA1Q9IzzxRQdKiTx8HXUQky0/s1600/American+Mary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHvBmLn1GVzKpc7hg5rAeSassEmLAsExe7YmVbavshBOGzUansEC27FGhyTE5XjB-4z_5uO0pDAbVfRD_MmT3bNPzVCYfKbyJ5_X6neC_66cVgK48725zA1Q9IzzxRQdKiTx8HXUQky0/s320/American+Mary.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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<i>American Mary * </i>(2012)
dir.Jen and Sylvia Soska</div>
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No matter how you slice it, <i>American
Mary</i> is an awful movie. To one end, it’s a pretentious rape-revenge story
that wants to seem like a profound feminist statement. To another, it takes an
intriguing premise for a horror film and pushes it to absolutely ridiculous
places. And, if that weren’t enough, it is a technical nightmare, with acting,
editing, and staging that should border on embarrassment for the filmmakers.</div>
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Mary is a pre-med student with financial problems. To solve her issues,
she decides to go to work at a strip club as a sexy masseuse, but winds up
getting herself involved in performing a back alley surgery on someone owing
the club manager some money. From there, she is hounded by a woman with a Betty
Boop fetish who wants Mary to do some experimental cosmetic surgery on a friend.
Eventually, Mary takes to liking the money and power she gets from performing
body modification surgery and decides to use her skills to get revenge on a
college professor who took advantage of her at a party.</div>
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<i>American Mary</i> suffers from the
childish narrative disease of “and then…” As in, “and then Mary was asked to
perform a creepy surgery to make a woman look like a doll, and then she was
raped by her professor, and then she was doing surgery on her professor, and then
the police were talking to her, and then…” Cause and effect plays little role
in this movie. It reminds me of when I started writing horror fiction as a
teenager, and would rush my way through all the important transitional scenes
in order to get to the “good parts.” This movie is a collection of “good parts”
with little else, meaning that there are no good parts, just moments of blood
and mayhem for their own sake.</div>
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It’s bad enough that the movie is a narrative train wreck, but it is
also so full of itself. The Soska sisters, who wrote and directed this, no
doubt thought they were making a profound statement about society’s definition
of women as sex objects, and embodied their free expression sentiments in the
form of their eponymous surgeon. Mary’s surgical acumen is supposed to bring
liberation to those she touches, and nightmares to all those who seek to
objectify her. But Mary is such a dull character, such an obvious symbolic
avatar that the overt symbolism is condescending, especially at the end when a
final shot of Mary reveals her to be yet another cinematic Christ figure.<br />
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I've spent too many words writing about this movie.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-46644729043822839652013-07-23T01:51:00.000-07:002013-07-23T17:49:14.427-07:00Pissing People Off is a Good Thing -- Reflections on "Only God Forgives" (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWJdr1TtOMyau6_j5uOqD5l5vOp8P_gYStgw9yo3l6tJlJzzwSfxuENbVWKv4qDONYBUlhpUoc0PwbPxcJkMyN_xq-beXsatauIruRmhgJB9nL7hT8GxRijMl77alcQpD2abuxW4xJFA/s1600/Only+God+Forgives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWJdr1TtOMyau6_j5uOqD5l5vOp8P_gYStgw9yo3l6tJlJzzwSfxuENbVWKv4qDONYBUlhpUoc0PwbPxcJkMyN_xq-beXsatauIruRmhgJB9nL7hT8GxRijMl77alcQpD2abuxW4xJFA/s320/Only+God+Forgives.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-C00SFHjHJivAZHaObki3uSRXU69nsMtE_0M2xPa1wwZgtKwLHErz_YP-F7VKg1Bk_MzjBUkUHnx77_ZBTCKptxqD63Ep4OZPYFTQ5moA9CxqBPCAf2jfYOqrXmFLVZKQav8Bds65YE/s1600/Only+God+Forgives+Info.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-C00SFHjHJivAZHaObki3uSRXU69nsMtE_0M2xPa1wwZgtKwLHErz_YP-F7VKg1Bk_MzjBUkUHnx77_ZBTCKptxqD63Ep4OZPYFTQ5moA9CxqBPCAf2jfYOqrXmFLVZKQav8Bds65YE/s320/Only+God+Forgives+Info.png" width="274" /></a></div>
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Nicolas Winding Refn is a fetishist with a camera. Each of his films
seems to find something new and unusual to fixate on with the most remarkable
visuals imaginable.</div>
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In this film, <i>Only God Forgives</i>,
it is hands and vaginas.</div>
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<i>Only God Forgives</i> is one of
the most polarizing films released this year, and that is a good thing. We need
polarizing films. We need filmmakers like Refn, who is willing to take his cinematic gifts and piss people off while at the same time arousing
others. After making his commercial masterpiece, <i>Drive</i>, he had the chance to go full scale Hollywood and start
adding his flourish to all sorts of commercial products. Instead, he took his
talents to Bangkok, took his friend Ryan Gosling with him, and made a film
about a modern Oedipus in need of some serious catharsis.</div>
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The result of this project is a film as visually stunning and
complex as it is narratively simple. It tells the story of Julian (Gosling), a
quiet man who runs a Muay Thai fighting operation in Bangkok. After his brother
is killed for raping and murdering a 16-year old girl, Julian’s vicious mother,
Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), arrives in town to pick up the body and
encourage Julian to seek vengeance. Julian refuses, so mom takes matters into
her own hands, attracting the attention of a local officer named Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), who is
an Akira Kurosawa character as imagined by David Lynch.</div>
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By no means is this film on par with <i>Drive</i> or <i>Bronson</i>, but it is
a powerful film because it works on a mythological level.
Julian is not only Oedipus, but also Sisyphus, constantly tormenting himself
with his own insecurities about violence and lust for his mother. He walks hellish
hallways over and over in a dreamlike ritual. He
frequently stares at his hands and uses them to push away the things he wants,
like a local prostitute he brings to dinner with his mother under the pretense
of being his girlfriend. Julian’s mother is a Satanic figure, armored in designer clothes, heavy make-up, and long acrylic nails. She speaks with equal amounts of seduction and venom. Her emasculation of Julian is as disturbing as it is erotic.
And Chang, our officer of the law, is the force of God eluded to in the film’s
title, levying his brand of eye-for-an-eye justice swift and sharp. He walks
with an omnipotence no other character possesses, and when he and Julian
square off to fight, he reveals his power in an awesome display of power and
majesty.</div>
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While I enjoyed this film, I completely understand the
frustration many had with it, and why it earned boos at this year’s Cannes
festival. Despite being a tight 90-minute film, it feels a tad longer due to
the languid pacing, mesmerizing synth score, and Gosling’s unwillingness to
express any emotion other than wood. Yet, I contend these are qualities working in the film’s favor. The pacing allows the visuals to breathe and
encompass us, leaving room for meditation; the score hypnotizes, then provides
the right spikes in the most violent moments; and Gosling’s performance
tests the limits of audience projection – he’s so minimal it is as if we
are being encouraged to place all of our anger and frustration on him, just as
the characters in the film do. Admittedly, these factors are a tough sale, and
I don’t imagine <i>God Only Forgives</i>
will do much more than test the patience of most audiences. If you give it a
chance, though, it will unfold and reward you.</div>
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We definitely need more filmmakers with the attitude of Refn, Gaspar
Noe, David Lynch, and Alejandro Jodorowsky, who all push the limits of
symbolism in cinema. Too many filmmakers in America are content with creating
commercial grade material and going to sleep at night on pillows stuffed with
fat wads of cash. While that is well and good – movies are, after all, a
business – in order to push the medium forward, we need mavericks who piss
people off, make them think, and ultimately challenge other filmmakers to improve
their own art. Just because a movie isn’t seen by the majority of people doesn’t
mean it can’t be important or valuable. You don’t have to make <i>The</i> <i>Avengers</i>
to have influence. Refn’s <i>Drive</i> didn’t
do monumental box office, but it sparked a conversation. Sometimes that’s
enough, and I think <i>Only God Forgives</i>
keeps with that trend. After all, anyone who witnesses the disturbing climax of
this film will want nothing more than to talk about it.</div>
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(Or <i>not</i> talk about it,
because what happens in the film’s climax is not fit for civilized discussion.)</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6070485862599283684.post-75813109077247438142013-07-20T11:36:00.001-07:002014-01-05T00:37:55.868-08:00Epic World Building, Smarter Subtext -- Reflections on "Pacific Rim" (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewLvrqKzR1VTtfegQvXnZqnpT3pyt7ew64SXu96vGT3K-2Ee_ZQtsAfAEBqwcygxUT-ce3UNCFOz5ZKekHDW5IPa_PO049xbThQL7DYLl5rhx4y2i3Zxvea1MmWvtrXl4SILJGP17mvI/s1600/Pacific+Rim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewLvrqKzR1VTtfegQvXnZqnpT3pyt7ew64SXu96vGT3K-2Ee_ZQtsAfAEBqwcygxUT-ce3UNCFOz5ZKekHDW5IPa_PO049xbThQL7DYLl5rhx4y2i3Zxvea1MmWvtrXl4SILJGP17mvI/s320/Pacific+Rim.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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“It’s time to cancel the apocalypse!” Idris Elba’s General Pentecost
cries out right before <i>Pacific Rim</i>’s
spectacular third act takes off, and in many ways this is a battle cry for our
times. Guillermo Del Toro’s global epic of monsters and robots is not only the
best film of the year, so far, it is also the most politically and socially
relevant.</div>
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More on that later…</div>
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<i>Pacific Rim</i>’s premise is
simple. Giant monsters from another dimension, called Kaiju (named after the
famous Japanese film genre involving men in rubber monster suits), are emerging
from the sea to wreck havoc on major cities around the world. All world leaders
put aside their petty differences to devise a way to fight back against the
monsters – they create giant Jaegars, massive robots which need two mind-melded
pilots. Unfortunately, the Kaiju are evolving and adapting to the Jaegars, and
begin winning the war again. This prompts the international governments to
withdraw funding from the Jaegar program, forcing it to go private.</div>
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Our hero in this tale is Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam), a cocky hot
shot of the Tom Cruise school of piloting, who loses both his mojo and taste
for battle after a fight with a particularly massive Kaiju costs him the life
of his brother. He spends his days working construction building a massive wall
outside Hong Kong which authorities believe can stop the monsters. Raleigh is
pulled back into the fight by the aforementioned General Pentecost, who needs
him to get back in a Jaegar. Raleigh finds he has no other choice, and joins up
with Pentecost’s rebellion group. There he meets the capable and eager Mako
Mori (Rinko Kikuchi), his new partner.</div>
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In the movie’s brilliant subplot, a scientist named Newton (Charlie
Day), decides to experiment with the mind-melding technology on himself by
melding with a piece of Kaiju brain. The result puts him on a mission to find a
fresher brain in the slimy possession of black market trader Hannibal Chau (Ron
Perlman).</div>
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Like most action movies, the beats are predictable, but the difference
between most and <i>Pacific Rim</i> is the
pure invention on hand. Guillermo Del Toro’s name is synonymous with wild
imagination after his Oscar winning work on <i>Pan’s
Labyrinth</i> and his entries in the <i>Hellboy</i>
series. He brings his total powers to this project, giving us the complete
world design this side of <i>A.I. Artificial
Intelligence</i>, <i>Blade Runner</i>, and –
dare I say it – <i>Star Wars</i>. Not only
are the Jaegars and Kaiju designed with attention to the tiniest details, but
the world the characters live in feels fully formed and fleshed out. You can
imagine people writing novels about other characters in this universe. There’s
a history in this world behind the decorations on the shell of Jaegar Gipsy
Danger, or in the development of the Kaiju part black market. Most action films
feel like everything is happening on elaborate sets, but <i>Pacific Rim</i> feels like it is taking place in a real, authentic
world.</div>
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If this was just a well-built world, that would be enough to make it a
quality sci-fi/fantasy epic. Fortunately, Del Toro and screenwriter Travis
Beachem have more on their minds than just watching robots and monsters fight. <i>Pacific Rim</i> is really about the abandonment
of government, and the need for a leadership that can practice what it
preaches.</div>
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Early in the film, Pentecost is informed by the joint coalition of
world leaders that the Jaegar program will no longer be funded. There is a
cold, calculated distance in this scene as the leaders are on computer
monitors, away from the fight on the mainland. They have not fought and lost as
Pentecost has, and do not feel the true weight of their decisions. There is no
passion in their voices, only pragmatism that comes from being detached from
what is happening on the front lines. Pentecost is forced to take the Jaegar
program underground as a rebellion. Unlike a movie like <i>Star Wars</i>, in which the rebellion is against a totalitarian Empire,
the rebellion in this film is against a passive-aggressive leadership collective.
The message is this – with so much power and pride on the line, political
leaders will only do what they <i>can</i>,
not what they <i>should</i>, in order to
solve problems in the benefit of the greater good.</div>
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It’s a nice stroke to name our General Pentecost, after the momentous
day in the book of Acts, in which God brings a fire from heaven and gives the
apostle Peter the ability to simultaneously speak in all tongues. In the movie,
Pentecost is the only one who can bring all peoples, or all nationalities, together
to fight this global menace. He is the face of true leadership, and it’s not
surprising that even though he is not the film’s protagonist, he is its heart
and soul. The fact that Idris Elba is such an outstanding actor only brings
added weight to the role.</div>
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We need films like <i>Pacific Rim</i>
right now, movies that can take their popcorn flick genetic code and modify it
with something smarter and more potent. This film is a powerhouse, not just as
an action film, but as a statement film.</div>
Ambivalentmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12340690686932188014noreply@blogger.com3