Death Is But A Moment, Cowardice Is A Lifetime Afflcition: The Trip (2010)

The Trip is one of those rare occasions in which the film's poster completely counters what the film ends up being.  In the image on the advertisements, we are provided with an image of Steve Coogan looking distressed as Rob Brydon laughs unabashedly.  With this picture it is easy to assume that the film is to be an uproarious comedy that will deliver constant laughs and little in the way of profound character study.  The Trip, however, is not a normal comedy, but a very sobering look at one mans attempt to deal with his fading into obscurity and increasingly distancing behavior to the world around him.  At first this discovery bothered me given that I wanted to laugh and enjoy myself, yet despite its incredibly dark undertones the movie was quite hilarious and incredibly profound.  It is an excellent independent film, which has just enough of a spark to flow for two hours and while the film relies heavily on the same set of jokes it manages to remain consistently funny and endearingly honest.  It is traditional in its film style and linear narrative, but beyond that it is something quite unique and watchable.  The Trip is a reminder that English film is still alive and while their comedy is certainly not the popular American style it is hilarious in its own right.

The Trip follows Steve Coogan, playing a slightly more pretentious version of himself, as he agrees to take up a job as a food critic for a national newspaper with the hopes of re-winning the heart of his American girlfriend Mischa (Margo Stilley).  It is apparent, however, that Steve also desires to advance himself out of a failed attempt to rehash his fading comedy career.  Mischa, distancing herself from Steve, decides not to partake in the trip with him leading him to invite his old friend Rob Brydon, played by himself in a much more ignorant manner.  The two then take it upon themselves to travel across London eating at various restaurants and attempting to rekindle their clearly broken relationship.  Instead of simply discussing their lives and activities the two attempt to outdo each others' comedic form, leaning heavily on impersonations, particularly that of Michael Caine.  Their argument over who provides a better impersonation of the aging actor becomes a center for the two's attempts to outshine each other in regards to their careers.  Rob is clearly more successful than Steve, given his popularity on a popular British sketch comedy show, while Steve is known for his work in independent films.  Furthermore, Rob has become a family man, content with having a wife and child, while Steve continues to sleep with different women every night and fails to earn legitimate work at any point during film.  The two continue to travel together, despite a clearly growing resentment on the part of Steve, who finds Rob's continual use of impressions and puns irritating.  After confrontations and Rob's eventual realization that he is a point of envy for Steve, the two resolve their issues and depart humbly, but without great fondness for one another.  Rob returns to his happy family life and clearly finds it rewarding, while Steve is shown alone in his apartment drinking and slouching in despair.  The two have changed in no form from their trip, except for having eaten foie gras crackers.

The Trip is a film about studying the values of human desires, particularly finding a happy medium between qualitative and quantitative desires.  Steve desperately wants his life to take a financial boost, particularly his global career as a comedian.  He desires this far more than he does ensuring a relationship with his girlfriend, or anybody else around him for that matter.  Throughout the film, Steve struggles with constant nightmares about people hating him or encountering far more successful actors and awaking to realize that these fears and desires are actually not occurring.  Even after ridiculing Rob for one of his characters on his sketch show, Steve is shown fighting off tears in a hotel mirror as he fails to recreate the popular character.  It is clear that he is at one point willing to sell out in order to gain global recognition.  This occurs when he is offered a spot as a villain on a television series in the United States.  On the other hand, Rob simply desires to please the people around him, mostly by making them laugh at groan-worthy jokes.  He is clearly elated with his wife and child and the money he makes seems secondary.  Rob's desires for quality allow him to gain quantifiable rewards, at one point he admits that he was surprised by his success, particularly given that it is rooted in a rather idiotic character.  Steve by the end of the film realizes that Rob's success is not to be envied given that he earned it earnestly and without corruption.  Steve appears as though he will change his life and approach things from Rob's perspective, however, the film closes before he can do so and as such we as viewers are uncertain that Steve will indeed change.

The Trip is a solid piece of film that is incredibly viewable.  However, it is not worth owning so a rental will do just fine.

Top Ten Thursdays: Literary Adaptations

I learned very quickly into filmmaking that much of what I liked in film was an adaptation of something else, most often books.  This is fine and I have come to embrace it as a worthy endeavor on filmmakers parts to attempt to recreate the text of literature into a movie picture.  What I offer today is a very humble list of what I believe to be the best literary adaptations put to film.  Mind you, I have not seen every movie ever and am going to likely miss some big ones, but these just happen to be my personal favorites.  Read it and feel free to critique and argue.

10.) Catch-22 (1970)

With a cast that includes Alan Arkin, John Voight and Art Garfunkel it is impossible not to like this absurdist adaptation of the equally absurd Joseph Heller novel.

9.) Orlando (1992)

Perhaps the least well known film on my list, Orlando is a bizarrely surreal adaptation of the classic Virginia Woolf novel and has Tilda Swinton in what of her finest performances to date.

8.) Breakfast At Tiffany's (1961)

There are really no surprises here, it is a great movie.  Although I hear the adaptation of In Cold Blood is quite good, I have not seen it and alas this makes my list instead.

7.) Atonement (2007)

This movie is insanely intense and equally depressing.  It is a masterful contemporary adaptation, something that seems to be a rare occurrence.

6.) Fight Club (1999)

I feel as though defending this decision is not necessary, given that Chuck Palahnuik's novels have changed literature, just as David Fincher's films have changed movies.

5.) The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

One simple question:  Do you know anybody who dislikes this movie?  I imagine your answer is no.

4.) A Clockwork Orange (1971)

I had to refrain from making this yet another top ten Stanley Kubrick film list, as such, I find A Clockwork Orange to be his most true adaptation.

3.) To Kill A Mockingbird (1962)

I am sure that if you were to Google "top ten literary adaptations" this would be in first on ninety percent of the lists.  It is permissible given that this film arguably has a larger following than Harper Lee's masterful novel.

2.) The Graduate (1967)

A movie based on a book about disillusioned youth, Mike Nichols offers something magical with his imagery and Simon and Garfunkel infused soundtrack.

1.) Blade Runner (1982)

One of the most magical cinematic experiences occurred upon Ridley Scott's decision to adapt the sci-fi cult classic Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?  I cannot emphasize enough how necessary it is that you see this film.







Honorable Mention

One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
The Reader (2008)
Slumdog Millionaire (2008)
An Education (2009)

It's A Bad Day To Be A Rhesus Monkey: Contagion (2011)

The masterful filmmaking that has become synonymous with Steven Soderbergh, makes his recent retirement announcement all the more troubling.  However, that has not stopped me from enjoying the work that he is still producing.  His paranoia inducing and Hollywood heavy film Contagion is a pseudo sci-fi masterpiece.  It is apparent at this point that Soderbergh has developed a style that is both accessibly mainstream and avant-garde in its visionary cinematic advances.  With a stark opening, techno fueled montages and rather conventional character development Contagion is a work of composed brilliance that manages to create a shockingly accurate landscape for a global pandemic.  It manages to honestly confront both the large scale and intimate issues of a rampantly spreading disease without losing sight of sound movie making.  It is a shame that this film was not popularly received because it is considerably better than many of the films released this year, excluding The Tree of Life of course.  A few directors and whole genres of filmmaking could take a few notes from Soderbergh's playbook before endeavoring to make their own dystopic thrillers.

Contagion, as the title suggests, follows the spreading of a disease through contact.  However, the disease in question proves not to be a simple flu bug, but a seizure-inducing virus with fatal effects.  In classic Soderbergh fasion the film involves several narratives that loosely intersect, but never seem to fully connect.  The characters in the film are all attempting to avoid contracting the virus while also assuring their own personal goals whether they be like the character of Mitch (Matt Damon) whose major concern is the safety of his daughter or Alan (Jude Law) who sees the virus as an opportunity to unmask government conspiracy while also cashing in on paranoid internet users.  Others like Dr. Ellis Cheever (Laurence Fishburne) and Dr. Erin Mears (Kate Winslet) employ their scientific understanding of disease prevention full force in an attempt to subdue the virus.  However, as these, and other, characters realize their personal goals are made nearly impossible in the face of a growing global pandemic, which leads to illogical and often barbaric behavior ranging from small scale robbery to fully enacted kidnapping.  Problems are only heightened by the realization that a vaccine for the virus cannot exist in a large enough amount to assure immediate availability.  This leads to an even larger amount of rioting, global political confrontations and a considerable amount of class consciousness.  Ultimately, and rather unusually for Soderbergh, the film reminds viewers that with time things will eventually become normal and diseases can only spread so far when people are consciously preventing their occurrence.  A nice moral message blanketed by a well-made thriller, yet it is in no way obnoxious, a difficult feat to perform, take my upcoming review of Birdemic as an example.

I tossed around what type of critical reflection to provide for this film, given that so many critics have drawn upon the films realistic portrayal of the rise and fall of a global pandemic.  I considered mentioning something else about this film, but all I can do is offer a resounding agreement to these claims.  The film does a damn good job of focusing on the cogs turning as a simple case of virus related deaths turn from something personal to a large-scale issue that involves large scale government actions both privately and publicly that posses dire consequences.  Contagion absolutely catches the bureaucracy of dealing with an invisible disease both in regards to politics and science, while reminding viewers that sometimes the best action for an individual or even a group of individuals does not necessarily mean that it is good for the whole.  This is clear in the approach to dealing with quarantined victims in the film.  It is made clear that quarantine is necessary to the safety of cities in the film, yet the problems of financing said quarantine have bureaucratic strings that must be tied in order to provide services.  Furthermore, the act of providing vaccines would prove terribly problematic, as it does in the film, given that limited supply would inevitably lead to arguments over who "deserves" the first right to vaccination.  It is a film about the problems of dealing with a problem, a very pertinent commentary given our current economic state.  Contagion reminds us that when it comes to dealing with world issues neither bureaucrats or Occupy Wall Street members have the idea entirely correct.

Go watch this film now...It is terribly underrated right now and I am begging you to help that change.

I Like You, Clarence. Always Have. Always Will: True Romance (1993)

This movie has everything going for it, a Tarantino script, poetic fight scenes and a veritable who's who of 90's actors.  One could quickly imagine this concoction failing miserably, but luckily, the film is treated with finesse in the hands of Hollywood big shot Tony Scott.  It takes an impossible storyline and makes it ever so believable, even though such a story could not exist in a reality outside of cinema.  It is fun, fast and intense and has all the sustenance one would expect from a film involving Quentin Tarantino.  However, what is perhaps most surprising about this film is that it is that Christian Slater's parts are enjoyable, an occurrence that seems impossible in many of his other films.  It is hip, over-the-top and celebratory of a culture from days gone by, it is what a blockbuster popcorn and soda movie should be enthralling to the point of inducing catharsis amongst its viewers.  True Romance is a film that you will become consumed by and not realize you have been watching a film until the credits begin to roll.  A contemporary classic if ever one existed, True Romance is just plain enjoyable.

The narrative, as one comes to expect with Tarantino, is garnished with hipster cultural references and healthy doses of kung-fu films, particularly those of the great Sonny Chiba.  Furthermore, the films characters are inextricably attached to these references, most notably the protagonist Clarence (Christian Slater) who fancies himself a modern day hybrid of Chiba and Elvis that dons Hawaiian shirts and a lax attitude to the world around him.  Clarence appears content to waste his days away employed at a comic book shop until he is brought into a seemingly chance encounter with Alabama (Patricia Arquette), a call girl hired by Clarence's boss to show him a good time on his birthday.  It seems too good to be true, and almost is, until Alabama confesses to harboring legitimate feelings for Clarence, causing her to instantly reject her job as a call girl.  This is easier said than done particularly since her pimp is a faux thug by the name of Drexel (Gary Oldman).  The threat of Drexl does not disturb Clarence, however, and he takes it upon himself to personally kill Drexl.  In a rather comedic moment, Clarence confronts Drexel, ultimately killing him and running off with a suitcase that he believes to contain Alabama's personal belongings.  Clarence quickly discovers that the suitcase actually contains a very large amount of cocaine, something to the tune of a million dollars worth.  Realizing both the problems and possibilities of his new acquisition Clarence contacts his father for advice and then heads out to Los Angeles, where he believes he can get rid of the cocaine quickly for a decent amount of money.  The rest of the film sporadically deals with Clarence as he tries to unload his drugs.  The film includes cameos from Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, Brad Pitt, Bronson Pinchot, Samuel L. Jackson, and James Gandolfini amongst others, all culminating in a gorgeous shoot out that is both obnoxiously grandiose and minimalist simultaneously.  It is an action film nerds dream and is pretty much flawless.

I recently finished reading bell hooks' Reel to Real: Race Sex and Class at the Movies and was thoroughly impressed by hooks' concise, yet astute criticisms of many of Hollywood's contemporary films, particularly her brief discussion about Pulp Fiction.  In an piece titled "Cool Cynicism" hooks points out the issues of problematic images in the films of Tarantino, particularly demeaning images of racial stereotypes, homosexuality and spousal abuse.  In Tarantino's films, he makes it a note to state that these are problematic, but rarely are these issues dealt with.  In fact, the cool characters often only receive slaps on the wrist for their bad actions.  Take Marcellus Wallace for example, he is a very bad person, yet his stature and bad as a motherfucker attitude reward him with survival and the ability to castrate his homosexual pursuer.  He is chastised for his negative actions, but in no way reprimanded.  The same case can be made for True Romance, in so much as the film core focuses on the transferring of a very large amount of illegal drugs.  True Romance is only concerned with people who legitimately benefit from drug trading, the dealers and big wigs.  It, with the exception of a few black dealers who die, ignores the lower class individuals who are victimized by drug wars.  By doing so Tarantino's script once again wags a finger at drug use, but fails to note the truly devastating effects of the drug trade, for a better expose on this issue check out Steven Soderbergh's Traffic.  Sure most of the characters involved in the trafficking die, but Clarence and Alabama survive living their life out with the help of a large amount of dirty money.  In Tarantino's eyes, they used corruption to their advantage, which is great for them, but still sucks for those being dealt unseen damage by said corruption.  It is a classic case of cinematic cynicism, masked in a cool and engrossing narrative.

All things considered, this is certainly one of the best movies released in 1993.  The film is a bit dated at times, but still has a timelessness that will make viewers instantly enamored with its wry dialogue and cultural fluidity.  I recommend getting a copy and making a viewing night of it with friends.

Top Ten Thursdays: The Criterion Collection

It has been nearly a month since my last one of these, and I figured nothing better than doing it on my ever favorite DVD supplier Criterion.  It is a dream of mine to one day provide my list on their website, but until then I will just have to do it here on my blog.  I will be providing the spine number for these films, as opposed to the usual year of release.

10.) The Seventh Seal (11)

This is one of the first films I purchased from the collection, and perhaps one of the ones with the most lasting impression.  I will forever have the dance of death burned into my mind.

9.) Paul Robeson: A Portrait of the Artist (369)

I am choosing this particular box set more for its historical relevance.  Not only does this set of films include of of Robeson's finest works, it also includes a film by Oscar Micheaux the often overlooked and highly underappreciated African-American silent filmmaker.

8.) The Last Temptation of Christ (70)

"It is accomplished"










7.) The Night of The Hunter (541)

"Leaning..."











 
6.) House (539)

This movie will change everything you understand about cinema, perhaps for better, but probably just for worse.

5. By Brakhage: An Anthology Volume 1 and 2 (184 and 517)

Stan Brakhage is one of the most important figures in the history of film, and only the Criterion Collection could do is films justice.

4.) Hoop Dreams (289)

Probably one of the most critically acclaimed documentaries in the collection, Hoop Dreams will break your heart.

3.) Hardboiled (9)

Long out of print, this John Woo film is one of the most sought after in the collection and it is deservedly so.

2.) Kicking and Screaming (349)

"We eat cantaloupe..."

1.) Do The Right Thing (97)

As I have noted before this is my favorite film and it should be no surprise it is also my favorite in the collection.  The supplements for this release are outstanding.








Honorable Mention

Alphaville (25)
The Harder They Come (83)
 Le Samourai (306)
La Jetee (387)
The Milky Way (402)
Chungking Express (453)
Last Year at Marienbad (478)

I See, You Too, Are An Innocent Man: Down By Law (1986)

The films of Jim Jarmusch have an unwavering hipness that is often borrowed, but never successfully recreated.  In sorts, Jarmusch is the Tarantino of independent filmmaking.  His 1986 masterpiece Down By Law certainly has all the cool wry wit of his other films, along with a smooth soundtrack and some very impressive acting on the part of the enigmatic Tom Waits.  Down By Law is a film that is colorful, despite being filmed in black and white and complex, despite centering around a small cast of characters, and beautiful despite being set in the most desolate portions of New Orleans.  It also presents a diverse set of characters whose lives intersect inexplicably and tangentially, yet seem almost preordained or something far more meaningful than coincidence.  Down By Law is for lovers of cinema, and is a staple in the canon of independent filmmaking as it relates to the United States.

The plot is surprisingly coherent for a Jarmusch film, perhaps being accredited to it following only three characters, whose narratives intertwine in a New Orleans jail.  The first being the broken down radio DJ Zack (Tom Waits) whose recent drunken stupor lands him in jail, after unknowingly agreeing to transport a dead body.  The second is Jack (John Lurie), a pimp who is tricked by a rival conman into approaching an underage girl about prostitution and finally Roberto “Bob,” played masterfully by director Roberto Benigni, an Italian immigrant whose miscommunication during a poker game leads to his accidental murder of an opponent.  The three men appear indifferent to one another as the story unfolds, each seeing their imprisonment as unjust and resenting all things related to the prison, including one another.  However, after bonding over a riotous moment, inspired by Bob’s lack of English, the men begin to trust one another and Bob hatches an escape plan.  The group escapes from the prison with relative ease only to discover the treacherous nature of Louisiana swampland far more formidable than prison.  The group eventually finds shelter in a boathouse that is eerily similar to their prison cell, only to venture out in a faulty boat that quickly sinks.  Luckily for the trio, they stumble upon a road that leads them to a coffee shop.  Zack and Jack realize the perils of walking into a public place still donning prison garb and send the culturally oblivious Bob into the place as a sacrifice.  Bob, however, fails to return after many hours.   In a moment of confusion Zack and Jack approach the house to see Bob being treated to the hospitality of an Italian woman, leading them to quickly enter the house and join the fun.  The group is treated as though they are any other guest by Nicoletta (Nicoletta Braschi), given that she fails to realize their uniforms significance.  After a night of drinks and conversation the three split ways, Bob decides to stay with Nicoletta, while Zack and Jack leave at a crossroad, only offering words of sarcasm as they diverge.  The plot thus ending in simplicity, a sentimental film for Jarmusch that is as simple in its narrative as it is profound.

The brilliance of Down By Law is its study of imprisonment, particularly as it relates to its metaphoric sense.  Each of the trio is imprisoned by something and it takes the happenchance encounter and subsequent literal escape from prison to help them free themselves figuratively.  For Jack it is a matter of freeing himself from apathy, particularly as it relates to his belief that he could be better than a pimp, but has not been given a fresh start to change this action.  By breaking from prison and reemerging into civilization, Jack is able to recreate his image, free of a problematic and undesirable past.  For Zack his troubles stem from his own self-loathing and inability to ask others for help.  His standoffish ways are broken as he is forced to perform his DJ routine face-to-face with Jack, as well as save Bob who is almost captured do to his fear of swimming.  Ultimately, Zack finds freedom in his wit and recognition that his own happiness exists partially from accepting that those around him can be happy as well.  Finally, Bob is imprisoned by language, a barrier that seems impossible to transcend throughout the film.   It is not until he is able to accept his Italian ways in the face of death that he is freed, this acceptance of his difference is validated by meeting Nicoletta who shares his identity, thus freeing him from loneliness.  Each character ends the film in solitude, but in this instance, it is void of self-imprisonment.

Buy this film.  Jim Jarmusch has an excellent relationship with Criterion and it is reflected in the dvd supplements.  A copy is necessary, share it with your friends, or anyone you remotely care about.

You Don't Know Me, But I Know You: The Lives of Others (2006)

The cinema of post-World War II Germany is bleak and desolate.  It displays its expressionist roots, without the faint promise of redemption.  Think most specifically of Fassbinder's nightmares that are often gritty, painfully distant and sparse in dialogue. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's directorial debut The Lives of Others adheres to this style of filmmaking, but manages to rekindle the glimpses of humanity that had long disappeared from German films.  She is Wim Wenders, but with a tighter focus on reality and a connection to human experience more indicative of Italian Realism.  The Lives of Others is a rather predictable film that still manages to suspend its viewers placing them into dueling worlds in which they are constantly confused about what group represents good and evil, a divide of ideals that is as thick as the wall that divided Germany in the era depicted within the film.

I am going to dance around the rather lengthy and multifaceted plot, because to explain it in too much depth would be to rob viewers of an intensely emotional movie that is almost entirely predicated on character evolution and regression.  With that being said, the film focuses the majority of the narrative on two individuals the GDP lieutenant Hauptmann Wiesler (Ulrich Muhe) whose professional job entails him interrogating dissidents to the GDP, as well as planting and monitoring surveillance setups for possible political dissidents.  The other portion of the narrative focuses on Wiesler's current subject, the famous playwright and previously outspoken political rebel Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch).  After attending one of Dreyman's plays Wiesler suspects Dreyman of political subversiveness and demands to be allowed to monitor him.  Wiesler's higher up dismisses this claim at first, but agrees to allow him access after one of his superiors shows interest in Dreyman's girlfriend and main actress Christa (Martina Gedeck).  Dreyman shows much enthusiasm for his job and is determined to nail Dreyman with insubordination as soon as he finds evidence.  However, as Wiesler comes to discover Dreyman, and his associates are experience a rather unfair living because of the GDP and the simple act of living proves unbearable.  Without expanding further on the plot, Wiesler comes to realize that his actions are inhumane and that his spying is leading to the downfall of an arguably innocent man.  What follows is a both tragic and redemptive film about personal choice and being honest in the face of unseen judgment.

The Lives of Others is preoccupied with voyeurism.  It is both a film about watching those who are unaware of a gaze, as well as the ethical dilemna of enjoying a film about invading privacy.  What Von Donnersmarck does is creates a film where the viewer both condemns and partakes in voyeurism creating an ethical dilemma for the viewer.  We, as viewers,are appalled by the actions Wiesler and his men undertake, yet at no point did I feel as though I should stop watching the film, in fact I eagerly anticipated each of his discoveries and applauded him for using his infiltration to attempt to mend the problems that arose.  However, it raises the question as to whether or not such an invasion of privacy is appropriate, particularly in the wake of ever-increasing government infiltration into our daily lives (Think the PATRIOT Act).  The question than becomes whether Wiesler's good actions justify his voyeurism, because he is inevitably invading privacy to do so.  Or to make it more relative to daily life, is it justifiable for our government to tap are phone calls and hear our most intimate secrets, purely on the belief that one out of every thousand conversations could prove to be a national threat.  I by no means am attempting to provide and answer, but am simply applauding The Lives of Others for bringing the question about so eloquently.  It is a film that displays a quest for answers, but only provides the viewer with questions.

The Lives of Others is the reason blu-ray players exist, but a copy immediately.

There Is No Real Me, Only An Entity: American Psycho (2000)

American Psycho is a film that sticks with you.  From the fast-paced indifferent dialogue of business tycoons to the free-falling chainsaw murders, it is a film entirely of its own creation.  It displays a unflinching critique of capitalism in all its failed glory taking its problems to an absurdist extreme.  The film is part drama and part thriller with a healthy dose of dark comedy thrown in as well.  Unlike other directors, Mary Harron understands details.  Every scene within American Psycho is intense in its grandiose brutality, yet it is disturbing in its detailed obscenity and excess.  The scene when the executives compare business cards is cinematic brilliance without compare.

American Psycho, as its name implies, follows the life of socio/psychopath Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale), a Wall Street tycoon who has a penchant for murdering coworkers, hookers and anybody he deems socially worthless.  The film begins with Patrick leading a rather normal upper class lifestyle, complete with business lunches, modern apartment fixtures and an attachment to the newest forms of technology.  As the story progresses it is made apparent that Patrick finds others behavior extremely irritating, particularly those of his coworker and rival Paul Allen (Jared Leto).  Patrick invites Paul out for dinner and drinks, which eventually leads both of them back to Patrick's apartment.  After an inspired analysis of Huey Lewis and The News albums, Partrick proceeds to butcher Paul with an ax.  At this point, the film dismisses all rationality and follows Patrick on his rampage, in which he avoid the interrogations of Detective Donald Kimball (Willem Dafoe) while murdering more people.  Patrick becomes more and more violent as the narrative continues, ultimately leading to a night of rampage in which he kills a handful of people publicly.  After his killing spree, Patrick calls his lawyer to confess his actions up until this point.  The movie then cuts to Patrick at lunch with his coworkers as though nothing has happened.  Patrick runs into his lawyer and asks about the message he left, assuming it was a joke his lawyer laughs it off and tells him to have a good day.  Patrick returns to his friends and mumbles his desire to kill everyone in the restaurant, to which his friends chastise him and dismiss his statement.  Viewers are left with Patrick scanning the room in paranoia while wondering whether the scenes of the film were from Patrick's reality or a world of his fantasies.

While I could write extensively on the corporate and capitalist critiques evident in this film, I want to instead draw attention to the issues of the current MPAA rating system.  Upon its initial release, American Psycho received an NC-17 rating.  It is easy to assume that this rating was a result of the film violence, particularly the scene in which Patrick drops a chainsaw on a fleeing prostitute.  However, as Mary Harron notes, in the fascinating documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated, the committee found the film worthy of an NC-17 rating solely for its portray of female-on-female sexual intercourse.  This choice on profane imagery reflects an issue in regards to the ideals promoted through the current rating imagery.  As many of you can imagine, a multitude of films receive R ratings despite showing countless images of heterosexual intercourse, however, the moment homosexual sex occurs it is deemed unfit for viewing.  I find this to be extremely problematic and would ask you as viewers to consider what goes into our current rating system and to demand a more solid rubrick for a ratings system, as opposed to the current system which is terribly wishy-washy and reflective of WASP ideals.

Do yourself a favor and watch this film immediately.  Its unfortunate ratings issue meant that it was overlooked upon its initial release, but the Blu-ray edition provides a justice to the film and is well worth owning.

This Song is True, This Song is You: The Saddest Music In the World (2003)

I love moments of cinematic perfection, which is precisely what Guy Maddin delivers with his experimental musical The Saddest Music in the World.  A frenzied mash-up of silent era film making techniques, ambient music and self aware over the top acting this film delivers an idea directly from the mind of an auteur.   It is a movie of moments collected into a generalized idea that questions what one must experience to truly feel sad.  Through an unconventional use of the melodramatic Maddin offers a psychological escape from sadness, while simultaneously forcing viewers to acknowledge the truly degrading existences of those oppressed.  In essence, the film is a formulaic guilt trip masterfully embedded in a black comedy.  The film exudes brilliance while also pouring over with the film makers own personal tragedies, particularly those of loss and existential malaise.

The movie's plot is as abnormal as its filming style.  Existing primarily as a dialogue on depression the film follows beer baroness Lady Helen Port-Huntley (Isabella Rossellini) as she creates a global competition to find the sole song that could be described as the saddest music in the world.  This act is done in the midst of the Great Depression and is solely done for the baroness's own financial gain.  However, this portion of the story serves as an arch to cover an actual narrative of a family's falling out.  A Canadian father Fyodor Kent (David Fox) holds a undying infatuation for the baroness, despite losing her to his "American Song" Chester Kent (Mark McKinnley) after a fatal accident which caused the baroness to lose her legs.  However, this triangle is made all the more problematic by another "Serbian" brother Roderick (Ross McMillan) who seeks out his wife to play her a song in honor of their lost child, only to discover that his wife Narcissa (Maria de Medeiros) is actually with Chester.  The feud is hectic, heartbreaking and at times violent ending with all three realizing levels of despair they thought impossible, particularly Chester who is shown accepting sadness, despite claiming to be immune to such emotions.  Even the conniving baroness experiences loss when she realizes that no form of prosthetic, including the beer that she literally stands on, can serve as a mental replication to her physical loss.

The social commentary with the film is vast and varied covering categories from psychological issues of pain to theoretical issues of what persons are justified in their claims of sadness.   The American music team relies heavily on their roots of exploitation, particularly in regards to African-Americans and Native Americans, yet the individuals singing the songs are all white creating a lingering divide between sadness and guilt, which emerges frequently in the film.  Similarly, it questions the psychological aspects of warfare, using The Great War as its point of reference.  It reminds viewers that millions of individuals die as a result of warfare, yet little is made of the suffering of the family and friends left behind.  It also acknowledges physical suffering in the way of the baroness who is a cripple and Roderick who is victim to various physical and psychological disorders.  Finally, it deals with the evolution of suffering through the character of Chester a person who begins by claiming such stoicism that he lacked an ability to cry at his own mothers' funeral.  Yet, as the story progresses and Chester is made to realize his own loneliness and bitterness it is him who truly, and irreversibly, sings the saddest song in the world.

I am very fond of this film and am considering making room for it on my mental top ten list.  It is black comedy done right, and even uses a former Kids in the Hall member in its cast.  Simply put it is how a film should be made and a copy is a must for any burgeoning cinephile.