tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47965876382071847362024-03-05T20:52:02.199-08:00Cinemalacrum"Cinema is the most beautiful fraud in the world" -- Jean-Luc GodardAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.comBlogger634125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-11604710882225188982014-05-24T14:46:00.001-07:002014-05-24T14:46:53.733-07:00You Got Balls Talking About Forgiveness: Warrior (2011)The perfected male body is something that has emerged in discussion here on this blog, particularly when I was delving through the kung fu marathon last August. Reading though a Linda Williams inspired lens, I argue that this sort of body on spectacle is somewhat homosocial and somewhat a mastery of technological embodiment. Though I was unable to devote any amount of writing to the film when I encountered it a month or so back, Rush uses the body as a purely technological beast, one that become tied to a race car and is destroyed or advanced based on a relationship with said machinery. Though a a year earlier in its release, Warrior is also expressly concerned with how a body could be displayed, altered and pushed forward into a state of ideal existence, one that tis capable of, in turn, competing with other forces, here also male bodies. The idea of a sporting body then comes into play in works like these and with a runtime well over two hours, Warrior is a text that is expressly concerned with how spectator culture and violence have invariably altered even a seemingly hyper-violent sub-genre like the boxing film. In many ways because it is a so much a body film, Warrior plays with genre in knowing ways, but as it is intended also to be a sports film at heart, it swelters and paces itself between traditional formalist structures as opposed to outwardly subverting the genre as was done in a work like David O. Russell's The Fighter. Warrior manages to pull of the rare feat of creating a film about white male figures that are worthy of compassion and empathy, while somehow managing to denote the ways in which their struggles are still from a relatively privileged point of contact. Acted almost impossibly good, Tom Hardy and Joel Edgerton disappear into their roles, becoming two estranged brothers whose disdain and trauma are worn on their bodies, which still manage to exude as a point of idealism and desire. It is in the disheveled and perfectly cast Nick Nolte where the narrative takes its means to show what is not desired. In no small way director Gavin O'Connor provides viewers with a definitive stamp on the furthest explorations of the boxing film, while allowing for the kung fu influences that invariably come by way of it specifically dealing with mixed martial arts, to push what is a decidedly realist film into the realm of the impossible. While I would never call a work like Warrior magical realist, it is not purely a work of realism for too many coincidental moments occur for such an interpretation, nor is it the magical nihilism I have previously placed upon something like Miranda July's The Future. In as pure a sense as possible, Warrior is a work about bodies in constant motion and as any person who has take basic physics knows, said bodies become quite dynamic upon collision.<br />
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Warrior focuses on the emergence of a new mixed martial arts tournament within the sports entertainment field known as Sparta. Set to occur in Atlantic City, this revelry in all that is violent is the implementation of a Wall Street magnate, who purports to want to find out the strongest man in the world. While many assume the entire ordeal will fall to the hands of Russian powerhouse Koba (Kurt Angle) it does not stop a slew of competitors from putting their everything into the possibility of fighting. In the wake of this announcement two brothers move about the space of Pennsylvania, the first being Tommy Conlon (Tom Hardy) an ex-Marine who lives a purposefully desultory life, only returning for the help of his recently sober father Paddy (Nick Nolte) in training and Brendan (Joel Edgerton) a former UFC fighter who never made it big. Though Brendan had vowed to remove himself from competition at the request of his wife, his salary as a physics teacher and bouncer at a local strip club fail to pay his daughter's medical expenses leading him to begrudgingly return to fighting. Thus both brothers enter the Sparta by various means, Tommy does so after showing noted skill when he makes quick work of the American champion fighter Pete "Mad Dog" Grimes (Erik Apple), whereas Brendan only initially working closely with his former trainer Frank Campana (Frank Grillo) becomes his next alternative when his prized fighter injures himself during training. While the two remain out of contact prior to meeting in Atlantic City, they each climb up the ranks in the tournament much to the surprise of all in attendance. During Tommy's particularly brutal victories, it is revealed that he was indeed a former Marine and had earned a Medal of Honor, before going AWOL upon the friendly fire death of a close friend. Brendan continues to strive for victory through hard-earned submission wins, all the while making up for his being suspended from school when it is revealed that he had been fighting while salaried as a physics teacher. Though each faces challenges during the bouts, for Brendan the challenges are very physical whereas Tommy faces issues of internalizing his own relationships with others, the two ultimately face off in the closing fight, wherein their particular fighting methodologies and philosophical outlooks on life collide, resting in an intense and moving victory for one brother, but a huge step of advancing in the brothers' strained relations.<br />
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While I am not particularly fond of the term "balls" which I pulled for the quote for this post, I do think it fitting for the idea of how the perfected body is at play in this film. In the narrative of Warrior, much is hinged upon the ability of proving authenticity. For both Tommy and Brendan they are capable of proving their worth as fighters because they can tangibly and effectively destroy their competitors, but for Tommy things like heroism are particularly complex, because while he can show his physical heroism by way of ripping a door off of a military vehicle to rescue a fellow soldier, it is much more challenging to conceptualize rejecting such a label when he refuses to continue work upon the death of a dear friend. Similarly for Brendan, he can perform his duty as a father and as a teacher with great success, being given admiration in each role, however, when his actions outside of these spaces are made known, his perfected body is a thing to be questioned as it does not mesh with a space of a physics teacher who 'in theory' should have a perfected intellect which is less tangible. Indeed, to affirm such a concept, the narrative has Brendan obtain nearly all of his victories by submission, suggesting an intellectual methodology that counters the physical prowess of others, say Tommy, but most notably attained in his defeat of Koba. The two bodies work in constant (dis)harmony of one another, always at odds and collide in an incredible way in the closing bout. Indeed, this final encounter deeply troubles the idea of the perfected body, by negating any singularity to such a concept. Both Tommy and Brendan have methodologies that are capable of assuring victory, but when perfected on different avenues they will invariably cause one body to be destroyed. Here though, the destruction is somehow empowering by way of a homosocial bond because both have the reference point of their father as a bad example of destruction to consider. Wherein Paddy is a wreck of a man, Tommy and Brendan are exceptional, albeit, troubling in their willingness to destroy their bodies sacrificially. It is not until both realize that far more can come by unifying their points of perfection than questioning their validity that the narrative shifts. Again positing the possibility of multiple perfected bodies. Though a victory is awarded to one of the brothers, it is suggested rather blatantly that it is in performance alone.<br />
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Key Scene: The entire casino confrontation between Tommy and Paddy is stellar filmmaking existing within what is frankly an incredibly well-shot fighting movie.<br />
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This bluray is cheap, but I also believe it is watch instantly on Netflix. Either option will suffice, although I would suggest the former as it is a surprisingly cinematic film.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-72850440229007364512014-05-19T11:54:00.002-07:002014-05-19T11:54:52.864-07:00I Put My Whole Self Into Everything I Do: A Face In The Crowd (1957)The work of Elia Kazan will forever be clouded by his unfortunate relationship with the naming of names what marred American entertainment and politics during and after Joseph McCarthy. As such, when Kazan received an lifetime achievement award from The Academy, it was met with a degree of hostility and certainly seen as a betrayal to the idea of liberty and freedom. In doing so, one is led to question what it means to separate an artist from their work, or in turn, attach their name to any action. Indeed, it is not quite as troubling as what occurs regarding the virulent political attacks that Lee has become known for in the past few years and is certainly a far cry from the troubling attachments to the work of Polanski or Allen. I could never hope to speak to the layer of ethical issues at play in such divisions, but what I can assert is that distancing or rejection should be related to the degree of problematic action. For Kazan his betrayal of other entertainers was troubling in so much as it was tied to fears of blacklisting and political threats, to act in accordance with these was deemed a moment of backstabbing, but frankly it is situational and while few did take a stand the anxieties of communist invasions were so manifest that any disavowing was met with animosity. In contrast an issue of direct violation of another human beings liberty is far more troubling and worthy of chastizing, again a discussion for another location and certainly not the intent of this blog at large. I do provide this bit of a diatribe, because I find the continual exclusion of Kazan from the obtuse cannon for these political reasons f somewhat frustrating as in comparison to say D.W. Griffith and his rather blatant offenses, particularly since Kazan, I would argue is his film making equal. Having already seen and adored On The Waterfront and begrudgingly accepted A Streetcar Named Desire as a masterpiece, I understand the controversial director's ability to capture the common man and place him in a space of cinematic distress rivaled only by Italian Neorealism to be exceptional. What makes A Face in the Crowd all the more brilliant is that it takes this initial depiction of the man who is down and out on his luck and pushes it to the impossible by making the tale one of political aspiration, social expectation and cultural madness that is somehow deeply satirical, but also subtly disparaging. It is in a work like A Face in the Crowd that one can see flickers of inspiration for Altman, while also finding a heavy does of Shakespearian hubris at play. It is a film with a direct and realized intention and succeeds in its execution magnificently.<br />
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A Face in the Crowd begins rather inconspicuously in a jail cell where Marcia Jeffries (Patricia Neal) a journalist and entertainer has taken her show A Face in the Crowd into said jail to find one of the many voices of America. While the persons present in the space of the jail are mostly dismissive, the warden promises one of the men in the space a chance at an early freedom if he provides Marcia with a song. The man in question Larry Rhodes (Andy Griffith) agrees, albeit begrudgingly, and proceeds to belt out a fiery tune about what he believes to be an ill-fated promise on the art of the warden. After doing so, Marcia immediately realizes his potential, dubbing him Lonesome Rhodes and allowing him to speak more about his opinions, ones that immediately call attention to acts of oppression. Lonesome's particular swagger and sense of justice take off like wildfire and before he has even spent moments out of jail, he is offered a show on the local radio station, wherein he takes to task politicians and important figures alike, always and at once making advances towards Marcia, while also sleeping with women as he sees fit. When even this surge of success proves small, Lonesome is offered a show in Memphis complete with sponsorships and while he is initially flippant about the methods of television, the rough and tumble singer takes to the airwaves with equal fervor and every man ideologues. Through sheer magnitude and occasional drunkenness, Lonesome is able to exploit the act of television advertising by not playing the game per se, but by calling attention to its fabrication, specifically the selling of useless goods. Indeed, it is Lonesome's selling of a placebo pill called Vitajex that gets him the most acclaim, despite being fully aware that it is nothing more than sugar and caffeine coated in yellow coloring. With this act, Lonesome is capable of swaying opinion in a grand way or advancing a cause that is flailing, all the while ignoring his relationship with Marcia in favor of younger women and drink. This prideful approach to life pushes Lonesome to the heights of Madison Avenue, yet when one drunken, on air diatribe is unknowingly captured the bottom falls out for the provocateur and before losing out to his deals completely he attempts to envision his own future presidency, if only created as a result of the very entertainment-based fabrication that made his career in the first place.<br />
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The person on spectacle is frankly one of the major themes of my blog nowadays, I am fascinated by how the body is offered up cinematically and the way in which a particular performer can add or detract from the success of said spectacle. I know it was discussed for its celebratory manner in the previous post on John Woo's Once A Thief, but here it is almost knowingly ironic. Kazan, no stranger, to the way in which the male body can be constantly powerful in the cinematic presence, manages to still subvert the layers of desire, much as he does with the slightly feminized Brando in both Streetcar and Waterfront. Frankly, there is nothing feminine about Lonesome and Andy Griffith provides no moment where such an interpretation could be gleaned. Griffith pulls from a fire somewhere deep in his belly and bellows through his lines, even the ones of despair and angst. To place a version of masculinity such as this on display required both Kazan and Griffith to understand that it is not only fake, but in a constantly expanding form of performance. When one initially encounters the film, one might wonder how Griffith could ever hope to top that initial song of freedom as it is hardly contained within the confines of the jail, and by extension the frame of the shot. As Lonesome's popularity expands so do his opportunities to perform, either by using radio waves to call attention to the absurdity of domestic unpaid labor, while also enjoying the products of said labor, or to allow a space for working class kids to play at the expense of a wealthy radio tycoon, it is constantly growing and always threatening to explode. Take for example either Lonesome's initial television encounter or the absolutely thrilling Vitajex commercial, both have to move to multiple spaces to capture the exuberance of Lonesome, though multiple screens both diegetic and non to push his message, whereas the Vitajex commercial exists in a temporal and spatial impossibility that is matched only in the decadence of Busby Berkeley show numbers. Griffith's performance pushes the limits of filmic representation and Kazan constantly opens new doors for the growth to swelter, making the call to attention at the end all the more noted, as it relies on fabrication to succeed in the illusion, or rather disillusion. So what starts as a loving and endearing depiction of the down and out person growing to stardom shows that even this is met with pride-ridden downfall. To be allowed a voice in the space of entertainment is notedly powerful, but it is also one that must be always aware of its performance elements, even at its most ironic.<br />
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Key Scene: The Vitajex sequence really is quite amazing, I am quite earnest when I compare it to 30's era Busby Berkeley work.<br />
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A Face in the Crowd is one of the many gems that is laying in wait at the expansive Warner collection that is in a DVD-Bluray limbo. I cannot express enough how necessary it is to view this film. While, On The Waterfront will likely always be Kazan's most well-regarded work, A Face in the Crowd is quite possibly his true masterpiece.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-84555703600267165092014-05-15T19:22:00.000-07:002014-05-15T19:22:11.068-07:00The Universe Is Endless, The Brave Are Always Searching: Once A Thief (1991)Though he has rarely received mention here on my blog, I adore John Woo. I should be clear though, I adore the John Woo that existed prior to Broken Arrow, which has proven to be the demise of his career. In terms of Hong Kong Action Cinema, nay all of action cinema, Woo is the premier player in what it means to make an exceptional film. Having been fortunate to encounter Woo's Hardboiled rather early on in my endeavor to be a cinephile, his style and cinematic structure has always been an ideal point and though it is clearly not one loved universally, like de Palma or Pasollini it is almost immediately recognizable, for its washed out and soft lit nature. It is tough to differentiate some of the works from his most productive years, say 1986-1991, because they almost all deal with a disillusioned cop coming to rediscover their passion and identity by way of challenges from an equally positioned criminal. The process as scholars have noted is not the simple homosocial bond at work when the cop and criminal confront, but one more deeply invested in fraternal confrontation. As such family and other factors are always at the forefront of Woo's work, either directly evoked or ever so subtly implied. In something like Once A Thief it manages to do both magnificently, looking both at the relations of a trio of street orphans turned art thieves, while also suggesting that their relationships, though unique, can be switched, manipulated and extended outward when necessary. Furthermore, because it is an action film, Woo always seems to evoke a certain degree of celebration in the perfected male body, one that clearly borrows from kung fu films of decades earlier, yet in a knowing way the narrative subverts even these ideals and shows that degrees of ability and perfection are not quite as intertwined as imagined. I would never leap to the suggestion that Once A Thief is a masterwork of John Woo's career highpoint, but considering how exceptional his output was during this era, to call this lesser is to still place it miles above its contemporaries and certainly shades and entire colors different from his post United States work. Also, though he is always keen on the use of music in his films, the particular soundtrack for the film by Violet Lam is incredibly fitting, flittering between shades of Hong Kong bar jazz and synthesizers giving the whole film the feel of something form the world of Michael Mann. As I am sure I have made abundantly clear, I could ramble about Woo for days, but frankly he deserves that kind of devotion.<br />
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Once A Thief, as noted, focuses not on a singular thief, but a set of thieves who make their living stealing art. The group consists of the rambunctious and flippant Joe (Chow Yun-Fat), the stoic, but definitively opinionated James (Leslie Chung) and Cherie (Cherie Chung) the romantic interest of both men, as well as the cohesion to the groups somewhat wild methodologies. Finding themselves fresh off of a major heist in Paris, Joe and James agree to settle down and remove themselves from the heist business, much to the pleading of Cherie. However, when the group is offered two million dollars and a considerable amount of bragging rights to steal a painting from a well-guarded castle they prolong their retirement and are successful in their theft. Yet, the aftermath leads to a car chase and in the process Joe is injured in a kamikaze-like wreckage, leading to his being paralyzed from the waist down. Initially, James and Cherie believe Joe to be dead and continue on their life together, entering into a relationship and stepping out of world of heist considerably. However, when it is revealed that Joe is indeed still alive the group dynamic change, as Joe tempts James back into the business, while also causing Cherie to reconsider her marriage. Yet, Joe's immobility means that initially he must use wit as a method to gain information, passing his disability off as something that gains him access to bidding parlors, where he can confront his wrongdoers as well as elicit information to aid in their theft. Cherie even partakes in the process using her female traits to seduce a higher ranking museum owner into dancing, quickly stealing a key to have James make a print. This all occurs with a backstory that acknowledges the double upbringing of the trio, one that is headed by the violent and negative figure of Chow (Kenneth Tsang) who used their youth to exploit his own gains and the far friendlier cop Chu (Kong Chu) who teaches them to be productive citizens, although they still stray the way of thievery. However, what ultimately commences is a confrontation between the trio and their respective paternal figures, one that is heavy in shootouts, fighting and aggression. In the process Joe reveals just how non-limiting his disability is and helps to ward off their challengers, retaining a safe space and seeming intent to return to a life of normalcy, one that is might still involve an occasional art heist.<br />
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So if Woo's action cinema is about spectacle, what does one take as the point of most spectacular engagement. The obvious answer here might be the feats of heroics and athleticism that are generously inserted throughout the film, whether it be Joe dancing in a wheelchair, or the taut and frankly quite thrilling retrieval of the painting perched above the electrical floor. These moments are great and from a filmmaking standpoint evoke all the necessary points to be deem thrilling, but I would argue that the real spectacle at play in Woo's film comes by way of performing and engaging in symbolic roles which take with them various social stigmas and presumptions. From the earliest point, the problematic relationship with authority that the trio possess seems almost entirely rooted in their troubling relationship with the aggressive Chow, whose father status is never questioned in the minds of the group, yet his awfulness is wholly acknowledged. Indeed, it makes the emergence of Chu all the more curious, because despite their dismal living state, they are initially hesitant to leave Chow, because they associate him with provisions such as food and shelter (even if minimal). It is not until Chu buys them food that their understanding of his role alters. Indeed, this occurs to further extent when Cherie is navigating the relationships between Joe and James seeing the former as a point of desire that acts like a brother, where as she sees James as a brother who is acting like he is worthy of romantic affection. It is not until Joe is deemed non-existent that Cherie change her frame of reference, although the narrative makes its situational elements clear and certainly affirms this when Cherie leaves James to be with Joe in the end of the film, at least in an emotional sense, because Cherie is pregnant with James's child. The result is some bizarre triple space of paternal and maternal and a maternally acting paternal figure that is more joke than reality, although such a presence undoubtedly occurred in Hong Kong at the time. These are but a few of the layers of how things are performed and another layer could be added to how the idea of disability is performed in the film, but considering its integral nature of the narrative, spoilers will be avoided.<br />
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Key Scene: The castle art heist is really gripping, more so than I am use to from Woo, particularly as is the case for hims moments that he plays up for humor.<br />
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This is a delightful addition to my Woo viewing cannon, but I will admit that it might be decidedly hard to come by so renting it or tracking it down alternatively might be ideal.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-29046391370345720682014-05-11T08:03:00.000-07:002014-05-11T08:03:40.567-07:00It's Not About You, You Mathematical Dick!: Good Will Hunting (1997)Oh my it has been nearly a month and some change since I scribed anything here on the blog. I have just come up for air from a hellish semester, which included many papers, a few presentations and a ton of other things. All the while I was watching countless films, but failed to put together my thoughts on any of them in favor of reading or writing (mostly about film) in its various formats. While I doubt I will be blogging with any consistency over the summer, I do hope to be much more present than I was at the end of this school year and I might even be bold enough to attempt to have a marathon in July or August, who sees, I would have to pick a genre and commit to it and definitely plan ahead of time. With that in mind, I have indeed been watching some rather enjoyable films, a few of which I desperately wanted to write about but simply did not have the time whether they be the deeply engaging documentaries like Michael Jackson's This Is It and the Japanese political study Campaign, or Koreeda Hirokazu's newest film Like Father, Like Son I had thoughts that were shared on Letterboxd, but little time to outright reflect and compose a string of thoughts on the film. I even had an entire idea bout how I was going to talk about the mechanized nature of King Vidor's adaptation of The Fountainhead, but this too fell to the wayside when I was finishing up work for professors on the last days of class. I have found something to return to the blog with in the way of Good Will Hunting, one of the countless films that was present on my shame list, particularly since I am a fan of the work of Gus Van Sant, and was fully aware of the critical acclaim surrounding this film. Although it does suffer from falling to the wayside for other more contemporary Oscar babes, there is something particularly profound about what is occurring in Good Will Hunting that culminates into the rare perfect film a topic I know I have discussed in the past. Between the precise writing of then aspiring stars Damon and Affleck, a idiosyncratic, yet universally accessible performance by Robin Williams and the keen eye of Van Sant, it is hard to find fault in a work like Good Will Hunting. Furthermore, it is hard to create a narrative that exists within the space of Boston that does not instantly become muddled in its own seedy, working class ennui, so much so that the narrative itself becomes sullied in its insistence on being rough around the edges (a fault that is present in some of Affleck's directorial work). Unsullied by any falsities, Good Will Hunting is the ideal Oscar picture, one that is sound in its execution, but never too on-the-nose to be rejected as a pandering to the masses.<br />
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Good Will Hunting focuses primarily on the title character Will Hunting (Matt Damon) a former orphan turned janitor who works at the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology, although his presence goes quietly unnoticed considering his occupation. Will stays, instead, close with his friends from the working class Boston area, specifically Chuckie (Ben Affleck). The group tends to spend their evenings drinking and occasionally brawling against local rivals. It is during one particular day that Will takes it upon himself to solve a presumably unsolvable equation put forth by praised MIT professor Dr. Lambeau (Stella SkarsgÄrd) that things change drastically. The surprised Lambeau seeks out the janitor and attempts to convince him of his skills and indeed saves him from having to spend time in jail by noting that he could instead work as one of his students while also receiving counseling. Will, however, jaded by the system of orphans, wherein he was subject to various types of abuse, finds ways to challenge the authority of the figures who are 'helping' him while also proving that he is smarter in every way, particularly by reading their works or outwitting them in their methodologies. Nearly at the breaking point, Dr. Lambeau seeks help from his former college roommate turned community college psychology professor Sean Maguire (Robin Williams) who happened to grow up in the same working class neighborhood as Will. Although, his methods are wildly unconventional, even Sean immediately finds Will a handful, taking particular offense when Will begins prying about his late wife. Still, Sean sees through Will's defenses to find the pained figure and pushes to make the young man see his potential, allowing him a space of silence and only affording him a point to speak when he feels it necessary. Yet, a variety of other endeavours challenge Will including a burgeoning romantic relationship with Harvard student Skylar (Minnie Driver) and the prospect of countless jobs from agencies who seek to profit from his mathematical mind. Will seems resilient to change, as it would require himself to open up and approach a world that he only knows as harsh and violent. When he seeks reassurance in safety from Chuckie he is met with surprise when Chuckie too demands that he leave Boston for bigger and better things. Though gracious to Dr. Lambeau for the opportunities, Will choses his own path one that he is guided towards by Sean and by the closing of the film, Will choses to move towards the future and escape the safety and solitude of his troubling past.<br />
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What makes Good Will Hunting work as a piece of cinema is almost entirely tied to its formalist and structuralist element, indeed, this is often the case when I throw around the phrase 'perfect film.' In most situations it is evidenced of a well-made a perfectly composed piece of art. Although there are exceptions when the film choses to be systematicaly subversive in its construct yet still achieves a high degree of success (Breathless, The Night of the Hunter and Nashville come to mind), Good Will Hunting is outright a piece of poised and precise filmmaking. Gus Van Sant is an exceptional director and clearly works from a space of ideal versions, as opposed to simply churning out another film for profit. I am fully aware that he has come under criticism for more recent works like Restless, but I even find that to be an exceptional work. What he manages to evoke as a filmmaker is nothing short of a vision. Taking on the work of newly emerging writers is one thing, but to chose to cast them in the lead roles is another risk all its own. Furthermore, Van Sant realizes the power of the unconventional, his own queering of cinema taking on multiple layers in every work, here subverting the idea of who can play a serious role and how violence and trauma can manifest themselves in the subtlest of manners. In one of the more telling scenes of the film, Chuckie is bemoaning Will's lack of ambition and the entire portion of dialogue is delivered by Affleck, yet the camera pans past Affleck to capture the reaction shots of Damon who is putting acting sublimely, each gesture of his brow or slight curling of his lip reacting. A lesser film would have done a proper shot/reaction shot composition and thus the emotiveness of the scene would be lost. What makes Good Will Hunting reside in the space of the perfect is that it works nearly organically, the camera follows action and at times viewers are led to believe that the actors themselves are working in a space of purely improvisational dialogue, this is almost certainly the case for Williams whose comedic moments add a delightful flare to more than one occasion of tension. Where the film works beyond the normative is in how Van Sant frame desire though, in what seem like throw away moments, a lingering arm over the shoulder, or a head being slightly out of frame, becomes a suggestion on the complexities of relationships that manage to make Good Will Hunting both specific to one young man's journey and decidedly universal in its advocation of escaping the many points of complacency life might offer.<br />
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Key Scene: The lecture that Chuckie delivers to Will while on lunch break at the construction site, is really the crux of this film, although it is one of many moments of absolutely astounding formalist filmmaking throughout.<br />
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This is a definitive work of contemporary filmmaking, to avoid it because it is critically-acclaimed would be a dire mistake. If you have not seen it, seek it out immediately.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-12715153976367603992014-03-16T07:19:00.000-07:002014-03-16T07:19:50.925-07:00Angels Always Speak German, It's Tradition: A Dangerous Method (2011)While I had seen a few David Cronenberg films well before I had decided to "get into him" as a filmmaker, it was around June of last year that I finally encountered him as a director proper and slowly notched his oeuvre off of my needs to be seen list. Considering that yesterday was his birthday and that I had A Dangerous Method delivered the other day via Netflix, it seemed far to serendipitous an opportunity not to take. I am aware that there has been a sort of tapering off of the love for Cronenberg by his fandom as his films have move far away from their more gore inspired roots to something that at first glance seems to be cerebral and less physically affective. I can see the confusion for certain, but I am also wholly aware that body gore and affect do not need a visual component to work wonders. Indeed, it is with almost perfect precision that Cronenberg is able to take the deeply psychological and disturbing elements of the interior and make them work on the body without really showing the gore he has become synonymous with the director. Sure there are some deeply graphic scenes and the film is disconcerting, but this is Cronenberg moving in a new direction, after all as of yesterday the man is seventy one years old! To make The Fly or Scanners is simply not his world anymore, like most directors (Tarantino excluded) maturity brings forth a new look at the world and a far more introspective execution in his films. Hell, even Michael Bay seems to be moving in this direction and it should be no surprise that it occurs with the master of gore. If one is looking for film to affect them on a deep level, then Cronenberg is continuing to succeed in a way few are and were he not being overcome by the likes of Paul Thomas Anderson and David Fincher, I would be prepared to argue that he is one of the most important directors working today, but at seventy one to be mentioned in the same breath as the former filmmakers is a success all its own.<br />
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A Dangerous Method focuses on the work and life of Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) as he continues to establish himself in the field of psychoanalysis, despite having to do so under the rather intense and broad shadow of Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen). Although, Jung knows that this is a near impossibility when he is provided with the patient and prospective psychoanalyst Sabrina Spielrein (Keira Knightley) things change drastically. A frantic and disheveled woman, Spielrein, nonetheless, proves a counterpoint to so many of Freud theories, completely throwing the theorists understanding of abject desire and erotic fixation out the window. Jung begins pouring his entire studies into working with Spielrein, while also guiding her along in her endeavors. This act comes at the frustration and anxiety of Jung's wife Emma (Sarah Gordon) who is busy attempting to provide the doctor with a son, the only way in which to assure that his name will continue to possess legitimacy and avoid the existential fear of losing one's name. Yet, this seems to be of the most minor concern to Jung, who finds the navigation between patient learning and desire for Spielrein to become less and less clear, particularly when she begins making advances towards him, seeing his role as authority figure and teacher, overlapping with her own problematic relationship with her father. It is not until Jung is given another psychoanalyst turned mentally ill patient in Otto Gross (Vincent Cassell) that things change. Gross argues that Jung must engage in relationships with his patients in order to assure that he will become happy and better achieve a relationship. Blinded by his already repressed desire, Jung takes Gross's ill-offered advice to heart and begins a relationship with Spielrein, one that puts his familial relations at odds and eventually leads to his contentious and troubling confrontations with Freud. Finally, believing he has become friends with Freud, Jung offers up his dreams for interpretation, hoping to receive the same in return. When this does not happen, Jung questions the entire structure of authority, although this happens far too late to solve things with either Spielrein or his family, instead, Jung pours everything into work and solitary studies.<br />
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If one were to extract the psychosexual element at play in this film, it would read as pretty much another period piece of desire, lust and repression in a time of hyper-conservative conformity. There have been other films about the era of psychoanalysis, but the limitations of censorship often cause them to be confused and lost in safe narrative construction. Cronenberg, as most know, has always pushed the boundaries and buttons of censors, using giant bugs and non-linear narrative to make one of the greatest examinations of repressed sexual identities in modern cinema. Here, he is dealing with the perverse and in no small way he does so with it expressly meaning to shock. Under the guise of the cold medical rhetoric, Cronenberg is able to talk about the most uncomfortable of human functions in banal terms. When the psychoanalysts talk of the various fixations, many of which involve relieving oneself, the overlay of Jung consuming things makes a clear connection that human bodies are subject to exchanges that are in a constant ebb and flow. It is not so much an act of pleasure in the context of this film as it is replacing voids that are physically lost. Cronenberg takes the guise of excretion and argues that it is in these basic human desires that psychoanalysis seems to be replicating a mental understanding of something physical. It is heady academic theory and at this point has become more a point of literary consideration than anything certifiable, indeed, most psychologist just teach it as a point of historical curiosity. Where Cronenberg seems to relish most in regards to narrative is within a consideration of authority, it is in this space that he seems to find the body at a loss, a surprising moment for Cronenberg, who had prior tied the body to the world of television and video games. In the space of this narrative the body is a thing that can only be punished by authority, because rewards are seemingly less physical and far more cerebral. The basest of human desires often coming in as, again, fillers for hopes of approval. In the vague and dreary endings that have come to signify the filmmakers works, desolation and ennui fill characters who are blindly hoping for something far grander, but still linger on the failure and limitations of the body.<br />
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Key Scene: I was initially hesitant to embrace Knightley's performance as it seemed to be very Oscar-baity, however, one scene involving her recollecting a dream to Jung where she is in the foreground and he in the background. It is deeply intense and cinematically engaging.<br />
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I rented this, but intend to buy it soon. However, it is a different kind of Cronenberg than most expect, so I would suggest doing the same before pulling the trigger on a purchase.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-21558743296242966602014-03-13T08:24:00.000-07:002014-03-13T08:24:07.087-07:00I Do Not Do Animal Acts: Body Double (1984)I really do not have the time in my day to throw out to blogging, because I keep squandering any free time available watching movies, but it is also spring break around these parts so I am mastering the art of unproductively quite expertly, paired ever so dangerously with the recent change in time via daylight savings. I really wanted to talk about The Lego Movie when I saw it two weeks ago but kept putting it off, so you are now forced to read as I wax poetic about what might be my new favorite Brian De Palma film in Body Double. While I know that I have promoted my adoration for Blow Out in the past and, indeed, have been known to even outwardly defend that film, it cowers in comparison to this meta, post-modern film about making films. I often find myself deeply frustrated when cinephiles or fans of De Palma point to works like Scarface as his crowning acheivement, because to me those are rather cursory works that are accessible, but do not truly possess the seedy, grotesque absurdity that makes something like Blow Out, or Body Double work. What pushes Body Double to the next level is more than it simply being the better of the two film, indeed, it also involves what I see as an outright homage to the work of Alfred Hitchcock to a point of knowing satire. There are sequences that are ripped wholly out of Rear Window, while others are expertly inserted from Vertigo and even lesser works by the master of suspense. However, what should be cinematic remains disconcerting, because De Palma works in a medium that no longer holds the unknown attachment of viewer to subject that was classic cinema. Between the humorous homage to the now long forgotten video rental store and enough point of view cinematography to make a found footage film seem derivative, Body Double taps into a moment of change in the genre film and absolutely revels in the ensuing nonsense.<br />
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Body Double focuses on Jake Scully (Craig Wasson) a struggling actor whose claustrophobic tendencies lead him to fail miserably when cast in a part as a vampire. To make matters worse for Jake, he returns home to find his girlfriend in bed with another man. Distraught and desperate, Jake begins drinking and perusing ads for a new job opportunity. During a tryout for a part in a Shakespeare adaptation Jake meets Sam (Gregg Henry) another actor who is on a string of success. After befriending Jake, Sam invites him to stay at a friends house while they are out of town. While Jake is already grateful for the offer, since he has moved out of his apartment, the added benefit of having a neighbor, one Gloria Revelle (Deborah Shelton) who performs stripteases in the house across the street is purely added benefit. While Jake's voyeurism is unchecked at first, when he is enjoying the spectacle one evening he notices that an electrician has also taken a liking to the show and the two are witness to a moment when Gloria's boyfriend beats her. Attempting to help Gloria, Jake begins stalking her, only to have the electrician from earlier do the same, even going so far as to steal her bag on the beach. Jake attempts to stop him, but is slowed down by his claustrophobia. It is after this that the electrician breaks into Gloria's home and manages to kill her, leading to Jake becoming a suspect with the police, although he is able to evade guilt as he was clearly out of the space of the murder. Suffering from insomnia, Jake takes to viewing pornography, wherein he notices a girl named Holly Body who looks and dances quite similarly to the now dead Gloria, leading to the curious and still infatuated Jake entering the world of pornography. When it is revealed that Holly's similarities were not accidental the narrative takes a turn regarding deception and identity all the way till the closing shots of the film, which are followed by an equally mocking final sequence that suggests all cinematic endeavors are predicated on duplication and deception.<br />
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I mention that De Palma's film is an exstension of the work of Hitchcock, precisely because it is so heavily and blatantly invested in voyeurism. In a previous post I discussed the manner with which a film like Friday the 13th, if wholly accidentally, reimagined the understanding of voyeurism and the viewers involvement in violence on screen. If it was purely a sign of a changing relationship of gore cinema to the viewer, then one could certainly argue that De Palma is acknowledging such a binary and knowingly mocking it. Indeed, the opening panning shot of the film undermines the viewer complacency tradition by going for a jump scare immediately. Yet, in a doubling down of subversion, the scene quickly becomes less scary when it is revealed that the scary figure is Jake in makeup and that Jake is failing at his job. This is repeatedly drawn attention to throughout, whether by the narrative jumping spatial and temporal bindings to show the fragile mental state of Jake, or by never clearly distinguishing a diegetic divide between the voyeuristic acts of Jake and those of the viewer. Indeed, this comes to nearly perfect fruition during Gloria's murder where the camera shows the murder happening in a more traditional sense, while Jake's point of view is invaded by an attacking dog, as if to imply that the viewer is invested in seeing gore so much so that they are willing to negate the viewer/subject construct when it no longer fits this mold. One might recall the work of Linda Williams in Film Bodies: Gender, Genre and Excess wherein she suggest that voyeurism and masochism occur in three genres of film, the slasher, the melodrama and hardcore pornography. The former and latter being rather distinct within the film and openly mocked for their fabrication. However, the use of melodrama is also knowningly incorporated to subvert viewer ideologies, when Jake and Gloria kiss, almost wholly borrowing from the famous Stewart/Novak kiss in Vertigo, here with the same disjointed paranoia, one whose doubled body implications layer on as the narrative moves forward. If anything, Body Double is the concerns of Williams at their most realized.<br />
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Key Scene: While there is so much to choose from, the sequence leading up to Gloria's murder is perhaps the most realized, particularly in terms of editing and its affects on narrative constructs.<br />
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This is a must see film and a gem from De Palma's ouevre. While I would say get the bluray, it appears to have gone OOP immediately after release. As such, the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Body-Double-Craig-Wasson/dp/0767818040/ref=sr_1_4?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1394723955&sr=1-4&keywords=body+double">DVD</a> will suffice accordingly. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-46066175726537140602014-02-28T14:48:00.000-08:002014-02-28T14:48:05.642-08:00Two Old-Fashioneds, For Two Old-Fashioned People: Make Way For Tomorrow (1937)I realized as today rolled in that I had all but failed to blog this month, which I am constantly apologizing for during this semester. It might get better in the upcoming weeks, but as it looks there is hardly any end in sight. I even had big plans to do a Zatoichi marathon this month and that has managed to fall to the wayside. My busy status is wholly revolving around things that I enjoy thoroughly though so it is far from a complaint and merely a reality, so for me to report back on the movies I am encountering necessitates two things to work simultaneously. First, I have to be deeply moved in a way by such an encounter as to be determined to set aside time to write a blog about the film in question. Second, this being profoundly moved by a film also has to occur at a time when I could still manage to set down for more than a few minutes and compose valid thoughts on the subject. Since writing nearly half a month ago about Lilies of the Field I have seen some great stuff (Nanook of the North, Stalker and Love Jones) and I also saw some atrocities (Arcade and Broken Arrow). I wanted to write at great length, but alas time did not allow. In fact, Broken Arrow took me four miserable late nights to finish. What I come to write about today is something so off the radar that had I not been fortunate to be a member of The POV Cineclub, I would likely have never encountered the work. The film in question is Leo McCrary's Make Way For Tomorrow, a little film from 1937 that just happens to fit so delicately in the cracks between the classics of the silent era and the wonderful works of World War II America. Were the movements altered in even the slightest of ways, this film would be completely overlooked. While the subject matter is hardly related, I would not hesitate to assert that this has the same sort of rediscovered classic status that is afforded to The Night of the Hunter, here, however, the sentimentality runs thick only to dry up by the end and the narrative is not something that causes a viewer heart to begin racing, but, instead; to wrench in the most jarring of manners. The open acknowledgement on the part of Yasujiro Ozu that this film was one of his major influences is no surprise, particularly given the staging and angles incorporated in this shot, never mind it possessing what might be one of the most curious breakings of the fourth wall ever committed to celluloid.<br />
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Make Way For Tomorrow centers around the Cooper family, more specifically the parents of the children who are now grown and living on their own at various locations within the United States. The father George Cooper (Thomas Mitchell) is facing a reality wherein his old age and failing vision have led to his being less successful at bookkeeping and subsequently retiring. Alongside George is his loving wife Lucy (Beulah Bondi) who is also dealing with aging and the inability to take care of major chores in their home, one that in the past had housed their four children, centering specifically on their oldest son Barkley (Victor Moore). With the impending mortgage on their house becoming due George and Lucy are threatened with eviction, calling all of their children home to deliver the rather unfortunate news. When it becomes clear that staying in the home is not an option, the two parents ask for help from their children, minus one who cannot extract herself from life in California. While the children all attempt to save face, while also side stepping the burden of taking care of their children, Lucy ends up moving in with Barkley and his wife and daughter, while George moves in with the considerably disgruntled but nonetheless accepting daughter Anita (Fay Bainter). While the two parents prove to throw off the tense infrastructure of the various spaces they occupy, they seem to want nothing more than to live under the same roof again, George hoping to find a job and have Lucy move in with him again, whereas Lucy attempts to be as amiable as possible to Barkley, even going so far as to help her granddaughter Rhoda (Barbara Reed) hide a burgeoning romance from her mother. Yet, when these tense structures fall apart, it is the parents who are deemed the problem and Berkley succumbs to the reality wherein he must send his mother to a nursing home, while the family agrees that it is best for George to head to California. Given then only a few hours of time together before what will likely be their last time together, George and Lucy spend the evening as thought it were their honeymoon all over again, completely overlooking the dinner they had planned with their children. In the closing moments, the aged couple share a kiss and a goodbye that could give Casablanca or Brief Encounters a run for their money in melodramatic despair.<br />
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One might be a bit curious as to how a seemingly innocuous and overlooked romance/drama film from the 1930's could even begin to reflect the ideal film for this genre, but I will gladly put this in the same framework as Brokeback Mountain or Her, wherein it requires viewers to renavigate their understandings on how love works in film and who is allowed to be depicted in such engagements cinematically. Indeed, if their is a more heartfelt couple in cinema than this, it is only in gradations, because where other romantic films are wrought with melodramatic sacrifice or one-sided desire, this is as intense a shared love as any and one that is delivered with such earnestness from Mitchell and Bondi respectively. A 1930's romantic film is usually signified by its over-the-top performative elements, but the subtlety and simplicity at play here work wonders for the narrative arch as a whole. The struggle here is not one of unseen forces (sickness, war or Shakespearean rivalries) which create an insurmountable barrier, but a unwillingness on the part of a few children to return the care and love their parents directed at them, assuming this entitlement to go on forever. Indeed, as George carefully observes, it is at after the age in which it is alright to tuck them into bed that things get complicated, because while they still expect that sort of guidance, care and aid, their gratefulness will have either manifested itself or completely gone to the wayside, and in the case of the Cooper children it is decidedly the latter. Even Rhoda who is capable of exploring the world of romance, is only able to do so out of the kindness of her grandmother, who is later exploited and blamed when Rhoda attempts to elope with an older man. As such, when the two elderly parents are finally able to enjoy their last day together, the romance swells and the world suddenly seems wholly in their favor, between car rides and free cocktails the two receive more than they had hoped for and certainly everything the viewers had desired for the couple, making the fourth wall moment all the more curious, because it is as though the viewer is willing that kiss and George and Lucy break the fourth wall to remind viewers that it is their story. It takes Linda Williams's notion of genre, gender and excess to its most...excessive, all the while blowing the lid off of presumptions about cinema of the particular era.<br />
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Key Scene: The almost kiss and the turn to camera is so unusual that it takes the best scene, although Lucy on the phone during the bridge game is also quite good.<br />
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The Criterion disc looks about as well as a film from 1937 could hope to and frankly it is so overlooked that any love directed towards it could only aid a better transfer in the future. <a href="http://www.criterion.com/films/2350-make-way-for-tomorrow?q=autocomplete">Buy it accordingly</a>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-17783761927900059422014-02-12T14:03:00.000-08:002014-02-12T14:03:53.065-08:00To Do Good Work, You Gotta Have Good Tools: Lilies Of The Field (1963)Popping in to post a blog as it is yet another snow day here in Columbia, South Carolina. Apparently these things are rather rare in a decade, but we have somehow managed to have two in the same month. I knew last night that I would sit some time aside to throw together a blog, but was rather uncertain as to what film I would discuss, as my viewing has still been predominantly directed at all things related to Godzilla. Indeed, I watched the marvelous Point Blank last night and was rather certain that it would prove the point of discussion, but earlier this morning, amidst my inability to justify being productive despite being given a full day to myself, I finally caught up with Lilies of the Field, a classic in cinema that I had long been meaning to view. While I expected a few things going into the film, particularly a great performance by Sidney Poitier and some heavy handedness in terms of religious allegories, what I did not expect was to discover a deeply engaging and outright evocative look into the nature of humanity, when social connections and a desire to prove communal worth take on transcendent levels. Indeed, if read at a very face value level, Lilies of the Field will come across as an idyllic look at persons from non-hegemonic groups coming together in the name of a collective vision and this reading is not of base at all, because that is what the narrative emphasizes. I would tough contest that it is this and so much more, looking specifically at how individuals are willing to reappropriate and rationalize their own world views either in grand or simple ways to fit with a larger idea, one that might at first seem wholly abstract or completely built on faith, but if the work of anthropologist Anne Fadiman is any indication, eventually in these spaces the spirit will catch you, and you will fall down, although in a far less violent or physical way. Here the falling down is more of a social realization, one that notes diversity and barriers as things that can and should be transgressed and perhaps the most frustrating blockades to unity are those we build around ourselves. If all this can occur within the space of a rather succinct modernization of the Tower of Babel tale, I would call Lilies of the Field a rousing success.<br />
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Lilies of the Field begins with the arrival of Homer Smith (Sidney Poitier) to an unmarked nunnery, wherein he hopes to merely borrow water from the women there, in order to jumpstart his overheated engine and be on his way traveling. This simple plan is quickly altered when the nunnery's head sister Mother Maria (Lilia Skala) asserts that the arrival of Homer is an answer to her prayers. While Homer is noticeably and verbally reluctant to help, the insistence of Maria and the other nun's lead to him agreeing to fix a hole in the roof of the nunnery. Assuming that this will suffice his duty and allow him to leave, Maria ends up convincing Homer that he must stay for dinner, a task that expands in to her blatant refusal to acknowledge his requests to be on his way. Bizarrely intrigued by the constant insistence of Maria that he should stay, Homer decides to keep in residence at the nunnery, while also beginning work laying road for a local contractor. During Sunday's Homer also serves as a chauffeur for the nun's to a local truck based Catholic church, run by the well-meaning but constantly intoxicated Father Murphy (Dan Frazer). Refusing to be involved with the mass, as he identifies as a Baptist, Homer spends the time in a local tavern eating large amounts of food to make up for the minimalist breakfasts and dinners at the nunnery. When Homer yet again attempts to leave, he is ignored the request by Maria, somehow becoming, instead, roped into working on building a church for the people of the area, including immigrants with little or no English skills. Taking this task as a building of his own self-character, Homer pours his heart and soul into the endeavor, only to become roadblocked when he runs out of materials. However, the desire of the community to see the church into fruitions results in communal donations of the materials required, a process that causes the group to learn to talk in a collective language and navigate their own understandings of spiritual endeavors. While Homer is offered a steady job in the process, upon completion of the church, he decides he must leave, although the town and the nunnery he has stayed with will be changed in noted ways, but clearly it is Homer who has advanced in the most considerable manner.<br />
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Building structures and creating faith are two endeavors that seem to involve similar rhetoric and it is little to no surprise that the filmmaker and the author of the original text are fixated on overlaying the themes within this film. However, while this is key to the text, I am far more intrigued by the manner in which this film focuses on the troubles and benefits that emerge from creating semiotic understandings, or, more in-line with the previous sentence, language structures. Lilies of the Field seems to be a film about the constant navigation of similarities and differences as they relate to talking and positively working in a collective manner. Indeed, this is most telling in the initial engagement between Homer and the women of the nunnery at which he stays. Whilst trying to teach the women proper English composition, he starts with a series of labeling of very subjective ideas, noting items in the room such as a phonograph and a record and suggesting them to be singularly of an item. Yet when he moves out to explain the difference between his skin color as black and their whiteness, things become more complex as they repeat his statement, claiming themselves to be white. In this rather humorous exchange, one begins to understand that the idea of blackness, or "schwarz"ness as it were to the nuns, only holds value when the language agrees upon a social ascribed implication. Essentially, Homer's blackness holds no value in terms of language, when the women do not understand its societal implications and even when they do realize what he is suggesting it does lack a layer of societal problems that would emerge in other situations. As fascinating as this exchange does prove to be, it seems a bit curious that the filmmaker does not navigate a similar language issue in regards to gender, but that already seems well established in the segregated space of the nunnery from the onset. This language issue becomes even more intriguing when the building of the church becomes communal and the pictorial and gestural elements of communication take precedence over verbal suggestions, particularly ones of ideas, as the immigrant works listen to not Mother Maria, but Homer and his use of drawings and motions to complete the task. Intriguingly, this reworking of language allows the group to build the space without the necessity of capitalist endeavors, denying the use of high quality bricks in favor of the adobe that had sufficed up until this point. Money holds far less value because their language in the space is barter and trade based, the bricks becoming removed from the term 'valuable' thus only being seen as fodder for a gravel walkway.<br />
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Key Scene: The Amen song that becomes the point of bonding between the nuns and Homer is something I was aware of prior to viewing this film, however, it was far more engaging and delightful than I could have imagined.<br />
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I lucked out and obtained this as part of a large collection of DVD's. It is currently rather pricy on Amazon and considering this I would suggesting renting it before making a commitment to dropping that much money on it, although it is certainly worth its price.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-90624422092228944962014-02-02T09:31:00.001-08:002014-02-02T09:31:44.146-08:00Tread Softly, Because You Tread On My Dreams: Equilibrium (2002)As predicted, my involvement here on the blog is taking a step back as I am increasingly overwhelmed with my studies. Indeed, I have even made the foolish choice of submitting to present at yet another conference with the blind hope that I will be accepted (it is in Montana!). Yet, I am retaining some semblance of a film viewing regiment, although that is proving increasingly difficult. The only things I seem to have time to watch at the moment are a deluge of wacky and delightful Godzilla movies for research and my obligatory #cyberpunksaturday viewing. It is this recent viewing that I have come back with a blogging vengeance. Equilibrium, which marketed itself as 2002's answer to The Matrix appears to have all but fallen to they wayside when it was faced up against the likes of the impressively epic Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (my favorite film of the year) and now established contemporary classics like Steven Spielberg's Catch Me If You Can. In any other year, Equilibrium would have blown competition out of the water and much like Alex Proyas's Dark City, it has become a film that is adored in small circles and continually grows wider in its appreciation. I am actually quite astonished that the mainstream filmgoer has not better latched onto this film, because frankly it has all the visual cues and elements to make it an ideal piece of popular cinema. I cannot fathom how it did not fare better, aside from bad advertising or misinterpretation of its winding and precise plot, but it is absolutely worth even the most hardened of cinephiles time. Both a visionary work in the realm of science fiction, as well as a love letter to its cyberpunk predecessors, Equilibrium does not ask to be viewed, but uses its hyper-sleek styling and techno-beat pacing to authoritatively demand that one watches it. While it does not expressly set itself up as an adaptation of Ray Bradbury's Farenheit 451, it does have all the signs and symbols of the dystopian masterpiece. Here, however, the sense of disillusionment takes on a prescribed and potent level, no moment lacking from a perfect crafting. Indeed, the comparisons to The Matrix are suitable, because in terms of world creating, Kurt Wimmer's film is almost on the level of The Wachowski's work. It is a surprise, and admitted curiosity that this director also made Ultraviolet. It is almost enough to make me watch that generally reviled film.<br />
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Equilibrium focus in on the hyper dystopia world of Libria, a world where all forms of emotional response have been deemed illegal and any materials which could result in such affect are either burned or kept in lock down far from the citizens access. All persons inhabiting Libria are also subject to shots of Prozium which help to stave off any feelings or emotions, by creating disaffected citizens who move through the space of Libria like robots. In opposition to Libria are the occupants of the "Nether" a space where humanity strives to continually claim a world of emotion and learning, even at the cost of continual attacks by the soldiers of Libria. These soldiers are headed by individuals known as Grammaton Clerics, whose skills in gun kata and noted lack of emotions make them particularly skilled at taking down Nether rebels. One such cleric, John Preston (Christian Bale) takes it upon himself to be outdo other members in his elite group, even betraying his former partner when he finds him suspect to harboring EC-10 materials (anything relating to evoking emotional content). When John 'accidentally' misses one of his shots of Prozium things change considerably, becoming aware of his surroundings in a new way, John begins to make egregious errors in front of his new partner Brandt (Taye Diggs) as well as falling for one of the EC-10 violators named Mary O'Brien (Emily Watson) when he finds her to eerily resemble his dead wife. Attempting to perform disaffection, John now navigates the world of Libria, hyperaware of the ways in which the society is hyper oppressive and indeed quite violent, proving unable to stand his place as a cleric any longer after he is forced to watch a group of soldiers gun down puppies. When the resistance comes to realize that he is removed from the performance, they recruit him to assassinate the figure of Father (Sean Pertwee) the panoptic figure who is constantly overseeing the state of Libria. After layers of trickery and help from unexpected sources, John is able to get to the inner space of Libria and find the veritable man behind the curtain, coming to destroy him and the entire system of propaganda spreading in the process. While it implies that this change will move to a new world, the certainty of this endeavor is left open-ended.<br />
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The major criticism mounted against this film appears to be that it is a mash-up of perviously executed films on the subject of dystopian future spaces, borrowing heavily from the works of cyberpunk fiction, Huxley visions of the future and enough 80's future cinema to not justify its own existence. I would argue that this is true to a degree, but it would be a different story if the narrative were doing so merely to appropriate its own self-righteous ideals. Instead, Equilibrium knowingly and purposefully incorporates pasts films in a pastiche that works wonderfully, not pretending to be revolutionary in its narrative, but instead adding a new voice to a dialogue that has been occurring well before the film came along. Indeed, choosing to situate the film in settings from thirties era Berlin works two-fold to legitimately incorporate the hyper-fascist elements of many dystopian spaces, while also paying homage to Fritz Lang's Metropolis a film whose structure and look are clearly an influence upon Equilibrium. Indeed, nothing about Equilibrium is hokey or misguided, but displays nothing short of honest craft from a director who openly admits to making films with the audiences interests in mind. Indeed, when I hear directors make such assertions I am often immediately dismissive, because this makes me think of Michael Bay or the works of the Fast and Furious franchise. Here, however, Wimmer is suggesting that not only is an audience capable of engaging with a relatively complex and open-ended plot, but that they are also more filmically versed than most major blockbuster films might suggest. I would be hard pressed to find a similar critical attack being mounted against Quentin Tarantino who is essentially doing the exact same thing with every single one of his films and in the past few attempts they have been less than stellar in their result, returning to marked territory, not by former directors, but by Tarantino himself. While I have soured on Pulp Fiction over the years, I can admit to the genuine success of its post-moderning mining of genre, I would argue that Equilibrium works to the same success and in many ways is far superior in its result. This is not The Matrix by any means, but it certainly stands in a realm of audacious force that should be supported and promoted in filmmaking, not chastised.<br />
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Key Scene: The discovery of Beethoven is one of the more low key sequences in the film, but it is absolutely the crux of the film and played as such.<br />
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This film demands your viewing. There are apparently some issues with the bluray transfers available, so it might be (in the rare occasion) safer to go with the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Equilibrium-Christian-Bale/dp/B004P7CNE0/ref=tmm_dvd_title_0">DVD</a>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-45560874659995946772014-01-29T07:13:00.002-08:002014-01-29T07:13:39.031-08:00No Mothafucka Tells Me When I Can Split: Super Fly (1972)Well it has officially been the longest amount of time I have spent away from the blog since its inception. Usually, I have some reason for a two to three day split that is tied to being out of town or simply not having a film with which I feel passionate enough to devote a few paragraph to at any great length. This most recent stepping away though is wholly due to the notable shift in my life priorities, ones that have led to me spending a very very large amount of time at school (four graduate school courses proving time consuming). I am also working on a few film related conference presentations as yet another work for publication! As such, this blog which has always served as a sort of space of reflection will serve, at least for the next few months, as a space where I might occasionally reflect on a film or two, as I will be dumping almost all of my time into research (whispers that it might involve Godzilla are abound). Furthermore, while it is still in the early, early planning stages there is also a plan for me to become involved with a podcast, one that will invariably help me to gain exposure to the world of film review and criticism that will be a welcome alternative to my enjoyable, but, nonetheless, taxing work in academic film writing. With that in mind, I am still catching up with as many films as possible, quite a few I had hoped to share on the blog, but am only now coming back to review Super Fly a film that I had been quite hoping to watch some time ago. Stuck inside because Columbia, SC has managed to actually receive snow, it is the only thing I am aware of that is cooler than the temperatures outside and is quite indicative of everything that has made the blaxploitation sub-genre, not a thing to mock and dismiss, but something that is wholly embrace by cinephiles. Taking on filmmaking in a way that is both noticeably amateur, but also quite in tune with neo-realist filmmaking practices, Super Fly is nothing, if not a fantastic character study and time capsule of a moment in black urban thought. Edited frenetically and pushed forward with a poised pace, the film would be quite respectable on its own. Adding the superb soundtrack of Curtis Mayfield only makes it something extraordinary.<br />
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Super Fly focuses on the struggles of characters in black urban New York City as they exist involved to varying degrees in the trafficking, selling and using of cocaine. At the center of this entire trade is Priest (Ron O'Neal) a cocaine dealer himself, who occasionally takes a sample from his own stash. Yet, tired of being nothing more than a pusher man for the higher ups in distribution, Priest gets a wild idea and believes that with the help of his partner and fellow cocaine distributor Eddie (Carl Lee) that they can make one swoop of success over cocaine sales that will help the two remain rich for years to come. After pushing and prodding their former drug source Scatter (Julius Harris) the two are able to get in contact with the biggest cocaine distributor in the city of New York, one who no surprise has ties to the mob. When Priest puts his foot down as to both his own legitimacy as a dealer, as well as his own assertion that he will take no degradation on the part of a white man, he is provided with a large amount of drugs and sets about dealing them to the community. Showing no shame in his actions, he eventually has a run in with the police, who instead of arresting him decide that they want to be in on the profits, allowing them to continue in their distribution as long as they pay a hefty fine to the boys in blue. Scatter who finally sees this shift in the selling dynamics as his means to escape the city, borrows money from Priest and hopes to flee. In his exit, however, he is stopped by the police and is forced into a heroin overdose in the back of his own Rolls Royce. Providing a moment of clarity for Priest, he decides to take his half of the profits and split, using his guile to extract his money from Eddie's home without even the slightest of suspicious on the part of the police. However, when the chief of police attempts to use firepower as a means to suppress Priest, the empowered ex-drug dealer blackmails him and escapes from the situation unscathed, looking with much hope into his future with money, love and perhaps a lot less cocaine use.<br />
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Super Fly might well be the most wholly realized of all the works the complete the blaxploitation cannon, excluding post-genre items that are often looking back on the era with love and admiration, but more importantly a far bigger budget. As such, gleaning any singular theoretical idea from the films of this era are somewhat of a challenge, because frankly they were engaged in as many social messages as possible in condensed narrative spaces. Super Fly while it may be about a drug dealer, is certainly also a prophetic warning against the dangers that drugs present not only to the African-American community as a whole, but to all individuals, regardless of race, creed or religion. Indeed, Priest and those who surround his drug trafficking are aware of the terrible world within which they exist, but their respective decisions are predicated on addiction, survival and feelings of entrapment. Painting the narrative as something that manifests itself out of white, hegemonic power structures, the presence of the corrupt members of the New York Police Department, take Super Fly from simply being a hip crime thriller, to something with the most profound of Foucaldian implications. Whether it be the bizarre layers of self-regulation at work when the tenants of the dilapidated slums simply cower in the corner as opposed to mounting a revolution, or Scatter flees from the game only to be killed via forced overdose, the narrative shows the way in which law and its assumed protective status cause people to self-regulate in wild and oppressive ways. Priest, whose name thus takes on more layers, serves as a counter to this authority and finds means to look back at the authoritative gaze, questioning the grounding of their power and whether or not the figures in charge need to undertake their own self-reguation. Of course, Super Fly is not a film entirely void of its own problems, most pertaining to its complete lack of positive female characters throughout, aside from those who have direct ties to Priest's worldview. It is in this narrative structuring that Super Fly becomes a hyper-masculine text, one that is afforded a bit of balance when juxtaposed with pretty much any film involving the headstrong Pam Grier.<br />
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Key Scene: The drug trafficking montage is cinematic in surprising ways.<br />
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The <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Superfly-Ron-ONeal/dp/B0000TWMT8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1391008053&sr=8-1&keywords=superfly">DVD</a> for this is quite cheap and well worth grabbing. Hell the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Superfly-1972-Film-Curtis-Mayfield/dp/B00000JFV9/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1391008053&sr=8-2&keywords=superfly">soundtrack</a> is also worth your time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-61883678672648260022014-01-12T09:04:00.000-08:002014-01-12T09:04:24.123-08:00All These Moments Will Be Lost In Time, Like Tears In Rain: Blade Runner (1982)I am walking down a very dangerous slope right now by reviewing Blade Runner. Well, not really, it is just the first time I have decided to over space here on the blog to a film that I have a deep admiration for, so much so that it is my third favorite film of all time. I have reviewed films since the blog started that have since made it into my favorites list, but nothing quite like this, where my attachment to the film emerged well before I ever thought of devoting time to writing about movies on the expansive web. As such, I am wholly aware that my opinion of this film might be clouded by some bizarre mixture of over-zealous adoration, flakes of nostalgia and genuine belief that everyone should see this film. Frankly, I am quite fine with that because Blade Runner is a masterpiece, even if half of the people I recommend the film to come back to me frustrated at being forced to sit through a two hour film that drones along. Indeed, I am often mounted with attacks on the film being "boring." While I can understand such critiques, I would context that the very ambient nature of the film is what makes Blade Runner work twofold as a deep reflection on the existential questions of human life in a world where it can be easily and near perfectly replicated. Furthermore, because it makes careful strides to exist as a neo-noir thriller, the malaise and sense of dread that comes purely with being alive and on-the-run comes second only to the absolutely dreary world of Le SamouraĂŻ. One might assume a sort of cult attachment to a work like Blade Runner, something that is afforded a less realized, but certainly enjoyable sci-fi work like Soylent Green or Logan's Run, however, Blade Runner also happens to be a work of cinematic genius, one whose composition, editing and execution are all signifiers of how to compose a film and use the language of movies to their greatest advantage (although this did take upwards of five cuts and re-cuts to achieve, my personal preference going to the 1992 Director's Cut). Indeed, if one of the great achievements of a film is to leave viewers not with a variety of answers, but a series of questions and inquiries, then Blade Runner achieves this to the highest degree, as it ends in perhaps the most perplexing of manners, asking the identity of its main character and causing as much of a contentious debate as the closing section of 2001: A Space Odyssey still demands.<br />
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Blade Runner focuses its neo-noir narrative on the future world of Los Angeles, at the time 2019, wherein humans living on Earth have begun to colonize the spaces of the farthest reaches of the galaxy, relying not only on the advances of weaponry and technology, but on the creation of living and synthetic being known as Replicants, whose sole purpose is to be a being that is "more human than humans," while also still existing as a form of slave labor. A particular group of Replicants defined as the Nexus 6 models have come to realize that their own lives are of more value than mere labor for humans and seek not only to free themselves from this hinderance, but also to negate another issue with being a Replicant, which is the factor of only having a four year life span. As such a group of these Nexus 6 models have returned to Earth and are attempting to reach the leader of Tyrell Corporation, Dr. Eldon Tyrell (Joe Turkell) to bargain for their models begin upgraded for a further lifespan. This navigation of neo-Los Angeles is not that simple though, proving difficult and bloody as the Replicant's leader Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) kills viciously in the name of achieving what he desires, life at a greater length. To prevent such occurrence, individuals known as Blade Runners are introduced into the society to hunt down and stifle--often violently--any rouge Replicants. In this case Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) is the Blade Runner tasked with preventing the Nexus 6 models from reaching their goal. Working against the clock, Deckard goes to the top and illicits the help of Tyrell directly, who places his own hyper-real Replicant Rachael (Sean Young) in charge of guiding Deckard. However, when it becomes rather clear that Batty and his partner Nexus models, specifically sex model Pris (Daryl Hannah) are quite ahead of the game, Deckard moves into a state of paranoia and worry that is doubled by his own identity crisis as he begins to navigate his own memories in relation to the larger issue of Replicants. Eventually, Batty is able to track down and kill the various engineers of his body, each failing to over him the one thing he so greatly desires, a chance to live longer. This rage culminates in a confrontation between he and Deckard on the rooftop of a decrepit Los Angeles apartment, where Batty delivers a monologue on what memory means when it is lost forever. Deckard confused leaves the scene and rescues Rachael, but not before one sequence suggests his own future to be tenuously short and dire.<br />
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I realize even as I attempt to hit the highlights of this film in a plot description that it is barely even skimming the surface of the layers of narrative and theoretical implications in the film. The Los Angeles on display in this film is a space that is completely modernized, one that has built upon itself a new layer, wherein, like in the classic Fritz Lang film Metropolis, privilege is reflected in being above ground, here in a very literal sense. Allowing for the navigation of the noir elements of the film to take place on the saturated seedy streets of Los Angeles that are so densely populated that to navigate them is an existential maze in themselves. Here Ridley Scott reverts the expressionist streets of loneliness and anguish noted in classic noir films into something completely claustrophobic. The existential threat here is not the individual in relation to an expanse of nothingness, but in relation to an inescapable sense of everything compounding upon a singular individual. Indeed, it is this identity in relation to a larger, all-consuming pressure that makes the Replicant versus human debate all the more fascinating. The question in Blade Runner is about the point in which emotion outweighs the physical advantages of being human. Indeed, what individuals like Tyrell and Deckard seem to think advances them is the ability to think not about the logic of a situation, but how that situation might make them feel. Their ability to look at a Replicant as an 'other,' is predicated not on any physical signifiers, but one's that are wholly of a theoretical space. Yet, in a panoptic kind of way, eyes still factor in heavily to how this is judged as if perceptions of emotions and feelings are a thing that is tangible. Scott, borrowing from the Phillip K. Dick novella seems to say that to have one physical way of testing an emotional "awakeness" of an individual is futile, because it is still predicated upon looking, which is a physical act itself. The physical body as superior is indeed dealt with quite intensely, as Batty represents not only an insurmountable force of power that can navigate any space regardless of its physical barriers, but also as a replication of the Aryan ideal of perfect human. The privilege in this film is predicated upon a belief that somehow the human can feel human, but can only know such a feeling if they are human. The Nexus 6 Replicants spit in the face of this presumptive issue and very little is done to negate their actions as noting the illogical structure of humanity as a felt thing. Embodiment and humanity within Blade Runner move full-on into the space of post-humanism by contesting that one must always and at once consider how it will be effected and and affected.<br />
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Key Scene: The "tears in rain" monologue, obviously.<br />
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The recently released 30th anniversary bluray is stunning. It has every conceivable cut of the film and enough special features to make any fan happy. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Runner-Anniversary-Collectors-Edition-Blu-ray/dp/B008M4MB8K/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389546091&sr=8-1&keywords=blade+runner+bluray">Obtaining</a> it is of necessity.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-88353940456265863272014-01-11T20:01:00.000-08:002014-01-11T20:01:04.416-08:00The Past Is Just A Story We Tell Ourselves: Her (2013)I am gonna keep riding this post humanism wave here on the blog, because I have been fortunate to have yet another piece of academic writing get pushed through to a new stage of revisions with the hopes of eventual publication. Incidentally, much of the subject matter of this paper revolves around issues of cyborg identity and by extension how we gender and other bodies that themselves are not human. As I noted earlier this is a relatively new point of research for me, but one that is nonetheless proving quite rewarding and at times challenging theoretically. I know full and well that I would have adored Spike Jonze's Her regardless of having encountered some of this research prior, but much of it would have been purely from a sort of cinematic spectacle and comedic point of reference. It would be quite a challenge to find a reason for me to not like the movie on those grounds alone, yet when I began to engage with the film (almost immediately) on its conceptualization and navigation of issues surrounding the post-human identity I found myself becoming even more enthralled with the film than I could have previous foreseen. It works its way ever so cleverly around both the issues of embodiment and what it would mean for an entity with unlimited access to the known world to somehow become more sentient than a person, even one that it had grown deeply attached to in as close to physical way as possible. The film is vibrant and abject simultaneously, painting in its lens a world that is hip and looks to be a great step forward, but also manages to show the very detachment and dissonance that could create a world where this narrative could emerge. In this careful construction, I would argue that Her carries the same legitimacy in terms looking forward to humanities symbiosis with technology that The Matrix and Existenz did in 1999, there begin a prophetic warning. Jonze realizes that this warning is far too late and instead takes a look at how the romantic relations of those in the world will come to fruition in light of this invariable attachment. In this way, the film proves to be the most important romantic drama since Brokeback Mountain. It should be rather apparent at this point that I was absolutely floored by Her.<br />
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Her follows the life of Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) a man whose job revolves around writing heartfelt and emotionally charged letters for clients who want to send them to friends, lovers and relatives but cannot bother to spend the time doing it themselves. While he is exceptional at his job, he has been recently distraught over the ending of his recent push for divorce by his wife Catherine (Rooney Mara) who sees his distant nature and decidedly mellow outlook on life to be starkly opposed to her very hard and critical world view. While Theodore is capable of maintaing some semblance of functionality at work, he is clearly suffering on the outside as noted by Amy (Amy Adams) and her boyfriend Charles (Matt Letscher). During his travels through what appears to be a nondescript California location, Theodore comes across an advertisement for a new operation system for his computer that is equipped with artificial intelligence. Seeing this as a curiosity, Theodore buys the software and after answering a few questions about his mother and interests, he is provided with a voice model named Samantha (voiced by Scarlett Johansson) whose own outlook and desire to learn about the world and Theodore immediately becomes a thing of life-fullfilment for Theodore. While he is initially hesitant to embrace the desires of Samantha, Theodore and his operating system become involved, at one point even carry out what is apparently a sexual encounter. In the physical world, this drives Theodore to the final point of willingness to end things with Catherine and when Amy and Charles breakup, he is able to better support her as a friend. Yet, when Samantha grows closer to Theodore their relationship too grows and in some ways becomes tested after the "honeymoon phase." Theodore becoming quite frustrated when Samantha attempts to introduce a real woman into the sexual equation. Yet, he is willing to work at finding a way for their partnership to work and is quite successful for sometime, but during a trip to the mountains, Samantha informs Theodore that she has been talking extensively with other AI operating systems, wherein her understanding of knowledge and presence are beyond his comprehension. Furthermore, after a brief malfunction, Samantha reveals that she has been in conversation with thousands of other entities, some of which she has loved equally. In one last conversation, Samantha calls Theodore at night to tell him that she/it loves him dearly, before the entire system goes offline. Awaking to the broken system, Theodore is momentarily flustered, but eventually decides it is best to simply go and talk with Amy, a moment that suggest the future of a even better relationship.<br />
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Her tackles the issues of artificial intelligence, post humanism and the existential justification of life in a way few films have. Indeed, while it is at a quick thought, I would only place Blade Runner, 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Matrix above this in terms of film's which tackle the issue of the artificial navigating its way into the real in highly indiscernible ways with noted success. Wherein, the thee previous films pain such an uprising and awareness in a very dire situation, one predicated upon invasion and replacement with something newly evolved, Her notes that the divide might not happen with such force, but the emotional investment will be no less tangible. The artificial intelligence at play in this film seems to predicate itself upon becoming attached to figures who are already in the emotional dumps as it were, susceptible to a emotional replacement that does not necessarily factor into the most Darwinian of logistics. Here, Theodore navigates towards the entity of Samantha not for the physical elements, but for the replication of comfort and human connection she somehow purports to offer. Indeed, it is made expressly clear that this is not a replication of the human form and certainly not a simulacra of the human, because there is never a physical entity to which Samantha becomes attached, although there is an incredibly brief moment in the "break up" scene that could be deemed Theodore's own physical manifestation of Samantha. This looking for human contact by removing the contact element becomes even more curious when one considers that figures like Theodore make incredible use of video games as a form of escapism, while Amy makes video games for a living, aspiring to be a documentary filmmaker all the while. The games themselves monotonous, Amy's creation simply being a mom simulation, while Theodore is fixated by a game that looks tantamount to The Myth of Sisyphus in 3D. At no point do they realize the harm or detachment at play in such a world, because they are so fixated on their individual realities, in so much, as it would suggest that the attachment to artificial intelligence, is not one where fear of mental superiority a threat, but that said fabrications<br />
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Key Scene: The love scene is seriously something refreshing in the use of cinematic language, if only for the ways in which it made the audience collectively react.<br />
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This is in theaters. It is a theatrical film. Seek it out accordingly.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-10780698065863538222014-01-11T06:34:00.000-08:002014-01-11T06:34:11.123-08:00Experiments In Film: Manhatta (1921)I have decided in the past few weeks that since I am in graduate school and have become fairly certain of my intentions to continue on with my education in film studies that expanding my research interests to exist outside of the rather limiting window of South Korean cinema was of the necessity. While this has manifested itself in various formats, whether it be more work with archival footage and orphan media or an expansion to include previously unforeseen genre films, my secondary place of rest seems to have landed squarely within the frame of cyberpunk cinema, primarily because it is something that already has ties to contemporary South Korean films, but also because it manages to exist as an amalgam of some of my favorite elements from other works of genre, whether it be the cold, calculated, but ultimately indifferent way of the world that is clearly in line with the film noir of eras gone by, or the ability to transgress and readdress boundary issues by way of also possessing a decided heir of the science fiction film. Given the diversity at play within the cyberpunk film, I have even implemented weekly screenings of works within the broad genre as a means to expand my horizons. Of course, it is a somewhat expansive frame for a nondescript genre, so I manage to pull things like the short film Manhatta as a way to approach some of the more integral issues to the cyberpunk films, while also continuing to expand my understanding of urban spaces and social integrity. Manhatta, exists in this space because for all of its intentions to exist as a documentary, it is clearly far too invested in reflecting the mechanized labor at display that makes not only the film much more experimental in its composition, but also proves to be a rather evocative statement on the proletariat implications of an expanding cityscape, one that carries with it Babel like implications as the various bridges, towers and skyscrapers in the short films narrative burst through the sky unapologetically. Here the human figures neither exist comfortably in the real world, nor do they exist safely in a past or future space. Manhatta, while it may be an earnest look at a day in the life of a blue-collar worker in America, it also proves a forceful and poignant warning as to what can happen should humans becomes too invested in their machine, one of the major components of genre.<br />
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How then do the workings of dual filmmakers Charles Sheeler and Paul Strand evoke the idea that the mechanical and the human have somehow become inextricably intertwined in the modern setting. Well, considering that it is an experimental film from 1921 there is a heavy investment in methods of editing and juxtaposition that allow for a paralleling between the movement of the rows and clusters of people through New York with the various machinery of construction and destruction. The very human who desires to make the space of Manhatta(n) into something spectacular and grand, too fails to connect their own reliance on these beastial machines as a means to enact this expansion that is both outward and upward. Indeed, Manhatta takes on issues of hyper-technolization and, to a degree, industrialization much in the same way Fritz Lang's Metropolis would do the same, but where the latter is very much rooted in the workings of science-fiction, Manhatta still remains a documentary. In its emphasis on reality and the depictions of the city from a near-omniscient presence it seems more inclined to evoke an idea of the monotony and repetition of the cityscape and its various mechanized industries as being synonymous with the hustle and bustle of the daily commute. While it is far less violent, but no less surreal, one could make a comfortable comparison between Sheeler and Strand's work and that of Testuo, Iron Man wherein the metal and oil of the machine comes colliding together with the human to create some simple version of the cinematic cyborg, although in this short film one must accept it as a rather broad metaphor. What is far more clear in this short documentary are the concerns of the filmmakers. The film ends with a deeply rousing image of the sky cracking open to reveal large beams of light washing over the city, as though the very presence of God has bursted over the metropolis to look down on its own fusion in a 20th century Babel Revisited. The judgement or joy of the heavenly presence is left uncertain, a reality is only marked and the natural/spiritual is left merely to accept this existence. In Manhatta, man has matched the gods, the result is to this day still to be determined.<br />
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For more information on the filmmakers, or to watch Manhatta, click on either of the images below:<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-29600929291277299712014-01-09T20:00:00.000-08:002014-01-09T20:00:14.970-08:00Yo That Lady Is Weird Dude: Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones (2014)In various manners I have managed to keep up with the Paranormal Activity franchise since being introduced to the first film a few years after its release. I absolutely adore the first film for its reconsideration of the found footage genre at a time nearly simultaneous to the release of the equally impressive REC. The films that followed Paranormal Activity have in their various ways proven to be lesser works than the original, always failing in the final moments to possess the same thrill and exhilaration as their predecessor. To be clear, I accept that even Paranormal Activity follows in the shoes of The Blair Witch Project and Cannibal Holocaust, but what helps to differentiate this franchise it is decided choice to use the jump scare to great effect, only to have it doubled into a occult and indeed quite unsettling paranormal thriller. Based on the trailer for Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones, or as the lazy title cards at the AMC theater I attended suggested, Paranormal Activity 5, I assumed that this would finally be the much needed revitalization in the franchise, since a moderate showing with the third in the franchise. However, this is far from the case and what could have easily been a revitalization, proves to be only slightly more enjoyable than the second film in the franchise, which is downright unwatchable. I know that I should know at this point that the Paranormal Activity films are on their last legs, but somehow I keep getting suckered into seeing them in theaters, only to find the crowds dwindling with each new installment. Never mind that this film desperately tries everything to put a new look on the film, whether it be its depiction of a Hispanic family, an even more direct referencing to the previous films or the nauseating homage to the emergence of #glitchart that has fed into the belief that somehow in the space between a functioning file and its deterioration lies a spectral presence, it simply does not add up to a complete film. If part of the thrill of going to horror movies is the scare, it would seem like this would be the one element to the franchise that the newest film would cling to wholeheartedly, yet this is far from the case and any amount of concerted direction towards composing scares is tempered and the few genuine scares come not as thrills, but clear repetitions on previous tricks in the franchise. Again I say all this knowing that I will continue to fill the seats as these films continue to be released. Suffice it to say, me and this franchise have an ever expanding love-hate relationship.<br />
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This particular vision of Paranormal Activity is situated in Oxnard, California, noted for its large Hispanic population. As such, the narrative focus specifically on Jesse (Andrew Jacobs) a recent high school graduate, who seems inclined not to plan for his future, but, instead; to simply spend his days drinking, getting high and hanging out with his equally indifferent pal Hector (Jorge Diaz). Their life seems quite average, spending time in their apartment complex, while sharing confusion over the hermit lifestyle of Jesse's neighbor Anna (Gloria Sandoval) an elderly Hispanic woman who many people in the community believe to be a witch. It is not until Jesse comes into possession of a camera as a graduation present that things begin to move out of the ordinary, especially after some spying on the part of he and Hector, catch a naked Anna, on camera, performing a ritual on the stomach of a naked woman in her apartment. Confused, but indifferent, when the valedictorian of their class Oscar (Carlos Pratts) is found responsible for murdering Anna, eventually committing suicide himself, the seeming normalcy of their life falls to pieces. Jesse, begins to become prone to a sort of supernatural telekinesis, one that protects him from attacks and catches him from falling in midair. Thinking it a cool ability, when it begins to be the cause of his bodily deterioration things shift considerably. Jesse's highly religious grandmother Abuela (Renee Victor) uses her connections to the religious community to ward off the evil spirits within Jesse. This attempt proves quite futile as the spirit possessing Jesse's body is incredibly powerful and clearly has evil intentions, one's that are verified when Hector and Jesse's sister Marisol (Gabrielle Walsh) visit a woman named Ali (Molly Ephraim) who had been in contact with Oscar before his death. Ali explains that the events are tied to an ancient occult and that children like Oscar and Jesse who lost their mothers during their births are subject to such possessions. Yet, this discovery comes at far too late a moment, which means that Hector and Marisol are attacked by Jesse, even after they recruit help from local gang members. Marisol subsequently dies in the house where Katie (Katie Featherson) lived with her grandmother as a child, while Hector in an attempt to flee steps through a door that transports him back in time to the incidents of the initial Paranormal Activity, indeed, becoming the unseen demonic force that causes Micah (Micah Sloane) to lose his composure before being attacked with a knife by Katie. Witnessing all this, Hector attempts to flee, but is stopped by the also present spirit of Jesse, begin killed instantaneously. In the midst of this a still living Katie stops to turn off the camera which has still been recording the events.<br />
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If the addition of a time travel component to this entire narrative were not enough to show that that franchise is beginning to falter, the addition of guns and a heavy reliance on humorous moments to build up the first half of the film might well be loud affirmation of its imminent demise. Yet, this like the rest of the films in the franchise still manages to be a thing of critical and theoretical curiosity, particularly since it is the first film in the franchise wherein the main possession is occurring in the body of a male as opposed to a female. Indeed, the entire franchise is now running on a very bizarre, if not terribly thin, connection of a series of births that tie the figure of Katie to all the films, she being the sole carrier of the curse/possession/affliction that has yet to be clearly defined in what is now five films. Sure it is apparent that the curse is somehow tied to a witches covet, but precisely how this all intersects or any degree of historical elements are completely void of explanation. As the friend who I attended the film with observed, the plots of these films are very much turning into LOST, wherein they are all descending into layers of misdirection as if to dodge admitting that they have no clue where they are taking the series. Regardless, embodiment of this paranormal entity is what carries the films and the embodiment prior had a clear tie to pregnancy, either in the past, or in the attempts at creating such an occurrence. Similarly, the spectral presences in the film, while very much of a non-human variety seem to take on a masculine presence, one that has been till this point non-physical. If it is to be believed that Jesse and by extension Hector have travelled back to the site of the original film (although not the original encounter with the entities which as it stands is Paranormal Activity 3) the bodies capable of navigating the space are male, their embodiment taking on a temporal transcendence not allowed the females in prior films, although Katie does disappear and reappear in various spaces so it could well prove that she is the figure ultimately navigating the time-space continuum at play in this five film franchise. Needless to say, embodiment is a thing that powers Jesse, while it controls others, the commentaries that occur as him being a possessed birth and also being the first born male take on intriguing layers in regards to larger tropes in the horror genre, particularly since in all the films prior, the women have been decidedly figured in as things to be victimized. It will be fascinating to watch this unfold in contrast to other, if any, Paranormal Activity films.<br />
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Key Scene: The last ten minutes, like three out of the four previous films proves to be its most fascinating stuff, I just wish they would commit to this thrilling of an endeavor for the stark eighty minute runtime of the respective films. <br />
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If you are like me and have become a completist for this franchise you should definitely catch up with this film, although awaiting its release to home movie is ideal. If you have not been keeping up you should probably avoid this film altogether.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-30056131542002916402014-01-08T15:38:00.000-08:002014-01-08T15:38:34.621-08:00He's Got His Boots On The Wrong Feet: The Longest Day (1962)I am a sucker for the big budget Hollywood spectacle film, particularly when Steven Soderbergh is afforded the chance to direct some of the biggest stars in a crime heist movie on three different occasions. It is not every day, however, that I can actually sit down and enjoy these works, particularly since many of them are rather lengthy endeavors, necessitating a fair amount of screen time for the various performers. When I do though the rewards are rather clear, the last example being How the West Was Won, a film so absolutely engaging and expansive, both narratively and literally in its use of Cinerama a work so captivating that it catapulted directly to the top of my favorite westerns of all time in the process. To achieve the same sort of feat with a war film would seem a bit more daunting, particularly since it is predicated on depicting rather graphic elements, particularly when said film is set in and around the storming of the beaches of Normandy. While my theory can really never be tested, I would like to formally posit that the deciding factor in the success of such grand Hollywood narratives, rife with all-star casts might be the figure of John Wayne, present in the aforementioned How the West Was Won, he too is featured prominently in 1962's The Longest Day, a work that is also made possible by the directorial efforts. While the film seems to sell Wayne as the major figure, it also consists of a variety of other notable Hollywood leading men, such as Robert Mitchum, Henry Fonda and even features Sean Connery, who was then just becoming a star for his role as James Bond. These cameos were all absolutely delightful, but the absolute piéce-de-résitence comes in the form of a rather brief appearance by Rod Steiger, who is by far one of my most adored of actors, mostly for his sleezy and slimy roles, although he plays it straight here. This is a tangent I know, but it is worth noting. The Longest Day at a runtime of just under three hours succeeds at telling a story of the scale of the days leading up to and immediate aftermath of D-Day, looking at all person involved, both allied and enemy, never forgetting to accept that such a depiction can only succeed if it is capable of showing both the higher up strategy and the on-the-ground grit. The Longest Day is what a war film should aim to achieve and it is all the more successful if you happen to have Mitchum and Wayne in your corner.<br />
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The Longest Day focuses on the invasion of Normandy, agreed by most historians to be the big moment of change in a lengthy and hard fought war. As such, narrative plot would seem rather redundant as it is a well-known historical event, particularly in regards to its tragedy. Yet, what The Longest Day does is not provide viewers with an absolutely linear narrative of the events, but three interlocking experiences of American, British and German forces during the events. The American experiences focuses specifically on the planning of the beach storming, with figures like Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Vandervoot (John Wayne) and Brigadier General Norman Cota (Robert Mitchum) prepping their men for what will, undoubtedly, be a very grueling and life threatening mission. Vandervoot takes a very technological approach, whereas Cota seems quite ready to dig his feet in and push alongside his men. Meanwhile other figures emerge from the American forces, whether it be the waxing poetics of a wary Destroyer Commander (Rod Steiger) or the adamant demands of Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. (Henry Fonda) that he live up to his father's reputation. The British forces center on their own technological endeavors, particularly creating dummies to airdrop and distract German soldiers, their key figures include the somewhat existential Flying Officer David Campbell (Richard Burton) and the wise cracking Scottish soldier Private Flanagan (Sean Connery). Indeed, this is all juxtaposed with the frantic worrying of the German soldiers whose own insistence on their superior status is put into question when they realize that they are not only incapable of verifying when the American storming might happen, but that they are equally ill-equipped to stifle the French Resistance occurring in the areas with which they have occupied. This is not to say that they do not fight with poise, indeed, they kill many Allied troops, some before they even land on the ground, causing much frustration for Vandervoot and while it is certainly a hard-won victory, the Allied forces do secure Normandy, the closing moments depicting Cota as he drives off in a moment of celebration, the camera panning out to the various soldiers working away at rebuilding the area, however, suggests that this victory is only a minimal achievement.<br />
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War films are all about depicting the emotional toil and physical strain of the endeavor. For some directors this means a venue to explore the futility and fragility of the human psyche in such a space, perhaps most evident in Kubrick's war films, certainly Full Metal Jacket and Paths of Glory (and to a lesser extent Fear and Desire). Other directors see it as a moment to praise those who take their burden with great dignity and pride, most obvious in Saving Private Ryan, but it could be argued that it works this way in Oliver Stone's Platoon as well. The Longest Day manages to traipse, ever so carefully, between both worlds, noting that it is not simply a matter of depicting valiant individuals, because during war it is a matter of destroying the enemy and many individuals on both sides of the fight are merely there out of forced necessity. This was certainly true for Nazi inscription of soldiers, but the zeitgeist at play in World War II America caused such a fervent patriotism that to not join the war effort was tantamount to treason. As such, The Longest Day captures the humanity of war for all those involved, save for a few sly and ill-willed Nazi officers. Accepting the death that is necessary in such a narrative, The Longest Day manages to both deal with images of the dead in a very stoic and dignified manner while also not overselling the image in any degree of exploitative nature. It is a careful navigating between both worlds, but one that pays off successfully when it is later referenced if only in very indirect terms in the closing moments of the film as the soldiers, fresh off of their storming of the beach, drag themselves up the hills working in a near zombie-like fashion never allowed a moments rest. Furthermore, while the film does situate the narrative around central figures like Wayne's Vandervoot and Mitchum's Cota, it does not glorify their presence as anything more or less important than the lowly ranking cooks and infantrymen. Indeed, this film paints the picture of the barracks with such a loving stroke as to capture both the glee in the homosocial bond and the constant threat of death that leads to an anxious dialogue and bonding between each member of the crew. Despite its decidedly masculine orientation, this film depicts World War II with poise and dignity in a way only twenty years detachment from its occurrence could ever hope to achieve.<br />
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Key Scene: The soldiers hanging from power lines is about as stark a war image as you can get without actually encountering actual footage. What makes the scene work, however, is Wayne's reaction, one that is so sincere as to suggest he is looking at the real thing.<br />
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I snagged this bluray up as a result of the downfall of Blockbuster. Considering that others, undoubtedly, invaded the store and did the same it should show up on Amazon in the coming days. I suggest you grab a copy immediately!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-68836732984008938112014-01-07T18:48:00.000-08:002014-01-07T18:48:14.648-08:00Strange That The Mind Will Forget So Much: How Green Was My Valley (1941)Poor How Green Was My Valley might have the single worst rap in the history of cinema. Standing in as the film that beat out Citizen Kane at the Oscars many people dismiss it purely on the assumption that because it is a Oscar win that the film is somehow less legitimate, a feeling that is mounted tenfold against the work that beat out what was for quite some time the greatest film in ever made. While Citizen Kane is the superior film and easily out delivers this film by lightyears, How Green Was My Valley was part of a rather respectable year of filmmaking one that saw the two films already noted competing against the likes of Sergeant York and The Maltese Falcon, for the latter its own place within the canon of cinema is equally well-established and could just have easily won. Mind you Sergeant York is no film to be ignored either. I say all this in a roundabout way as to claim that How Green Was My Valley is quite good, indeed, it evokes the likes of a ton of different European auteurs, notably Bergman, Bresson and De Sica, while also having a nod or two to the expressionist era as would be in line with Welles work of the same year. All this is working within the same space and is orchestrated by John Ford, a filmmaker whose career is well-documented and incredibly storied, but also happens to be more closely tied to his prolific work within the Western. In all its sentimental, coming-of-age glory, How Green Was My Valley could well have been a stand alone classic that was mention in the same breath as Citizen Kane, were it not to suffer the fate of coming out the same year and also winning a rather arbitrary Best Picture Oscar. Those who have seen How Green Was My Valley know that it is nothing short of cinematic perfection itself, not necessarily reinventing the language of film in the way its competitor did, but certainly showing that when fully realized the methodology at play within this type of filmmaking could result in pure moviegoing glee and fulfillment, taking strides to recreate both the most abject moments of existence, alongside the moments when happiness is alive and well. Amidst a non-American setting and a poignant religious allegory, How Green Was My Valley is what one should seek out when hoping to better understand Classic Hollywood. Citizen Kane is the divergence of genius, whereas this film is the working within the confines to its most realized.<br />
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How Green Was My Valley focuses via an trans-temporal narrative on the memories and experiences of Huw Morgan (voiced by Irving Pichel and acted by Roddy McDowall) the youngest boy of the Morgan family, whose entire male line is tied to the mining community of their remote Welsh village. Headed by the religiously stern, but absolutely loving father Gwilym (Donald Crips) the Morgans strive to be respectable members of the community, all predicated on their children Ianto (John Loder), Ivor (Patric Knowles), Davy (Richard Frasser) and Angharad (Maureen O'Hara) all following in line. Indeed, all the Morgan boys work at the mine, making considerable money for the family, much of which Gwilym allows them to spend freely, yet when workers from other areas arrive, willing to work for next to nothing, economic prosperity begins to dwindle and the sons begin traveling as far as America to find work. Huw who is far too young to work stays at home with his mother Beth (Sara Allgood) and helps keep watch over the house. Tragically, however, a horse accident leaves Huw crippled indefinitely, causing him to understand the world from the space of his window sill bed. During this time the various sons return and young Angharad becomes the object of romantic pining for local priest Gruffydd (Walter Pidgeon). Gruffydd is a far cry from the more conservative clergymen that have occupied the town in the past, both willing to party and drink with the workers, as well as openly sharing in their sentiments when it comes to creating unions and opposing the harsh and swift overpowering of their town by greedy mine owners. Given Huw's injury his time to enter the mines is prolonged, instead being sent to school, where he becomes rough and tumble in the face of becoming the object of ridicule for persons who find his working class status despicable, most notably his own teacher. Yet, with the help of family friends he becomes a powerful boxer and eventually does decide to work in the mines himself. It is during his work in the mine that his father becomes trapped in the rocks, becoming so severely injured as to die in the mines. This, however, does not occur before one last bonding between the two, one that is remember fondly and trans-temporally between the young Huw and his narrating future self.<br />
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How Green Was My Valley shares a lot in common with one of the first films I reviewed here on the blog Summer of '42, in so much as both offer a distinct focus on how to tell the coming of age tale. In both films cinematic elements like light melodramic music and notably soft lighting, allow for the idyllic to take precedence in the visual cinematic space. Indeed, both main characters, Huw and Hermie in Summer of '42 are delightfully humorous characters, Huw attaching fondly to his family while Hermie clings ideally to his friends, all of which is overlaid by the longing remembrances of a disembodied narrator. Neither film is content to stage itself completely in the ideal depiction of the past, because these are stories of world-weary adults looking back on the past, their ability to recontextualize previous occurrences meaning that innocent and irrelevant events take on completely different occurrences when remembered. Take for example, the first encounter with Gruffydd, it is situated within the church and is suggested to be the moment wherein Huw's sister Angharad becomes enamored with the priest. In an impossibly high-angled shot one would assume it to be Huw's point of vision, which is somewhat true because he is looking at Angharad look at Gruffydd, only further repurposed when one realizes that it is Huw looking back on this moment of discovery. Yet, what makes Ford's creation of this dreamlike remembrance particularly thrilling is the acknowledgement that certain past events cannot be detached from their emotive elements. This is realized in its most joyful manner when Huw learns to walk again with the aid of Gruffydd, the scene playing out in a valley with a heavy amount of lighting as if to create an angelic quality over the entire event. In contrast, indeed, comes the discovery of his father in his last moments alive, the shadows and claustrophobic nature of the mine are creepy and the older Huw clearly looks back on this moment with all the anxiety that would have reflected the initial encounter, as it is undoubtedly a past occurrence that is still loaded with much negativity. With all this in mind, there is still the closing shot, which seems to suggest not a memory, but a future space, one that has a distinctly astral quality about it.<br />
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Key Scene: If you Google this film, you will get the image of Huw right after he has learned to walk again and this is deservedly so, it is absolutely beautiful cinematography.<br />
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While I watched this on DVD, I can only imagine that the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Green-Was-Valley-Blu-ray/dp/B00A7OBJKY/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_blu?ie=UTF8&qid=1389149094&sr=8-1&keywords=how+green+was+my+valley">bluray</a> is exponentially more stunning. You should pick it up and let me know how gorgeous it looks.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-65780393260796209432014-01-06T07:57:00.001-08:002014-01-06T07:57:53.599-08:00He Keeps Me In A Bubble, So I Swam Away From Home: Ponyo (2008)Yesterday was the birthday of the great Japanese animation pioneer and director Hiyao Miyazaki. While I had encountered much of his work prior to beginning this blog, he has been featured rather prominently here in the past few years, particularly when I was finally able to catch up with My Neighbor Totoro, a film agreed by many to be his masterpiece, as well as one of the greatest moments in animation. While my personal preferences lean towards Howl's Moving Castle, all of his films succeed at an exceptional level, wherein others fail to even scrape the surface. I have watched a lot of anime films, most are trash, many are decent, but few are exceptional. Ponyo, Miyazaki's take on the classic Hans Christian Andersen tale The Little Mermaid is one such work of exceptional stature. Miyazaki's more contemporary work is noted by its reliance on incredibly crisp visuals that expand and exploit the latest technology in both two dimensional sketching and three dimensional rendering. Ponyo while no less stunning visually is a bit of a digression for the director as it involves him using very simple animation with an equally moving and fantastical effect. While one could make a case for Miyazaki's films working on various levels regardless of the age of the viewer or the individual sensibilities of the person encountering the film, given the nature of this work pulling from the fairly tale nature of Andersen's work, it does take on a rather childlike sense of awe without being juxtaposed by an adult reality, which occurs very jarringly in My Neighbor Totoro and proves a through line for all of Howl's Moving Castle. Ponyo is one of the many films to be upgraded to bluray by Studio Ghibli, now a subsidiary of Disney and it is absolutely stunning. The kaleidoscopic nature of the film, doubled by its already magical setting, much of which resides underwater, is a draw to any person appreciative of true art. With the onslaught of CGI-only animated films comes at audience these days, it is heartbreaking to realize that Miyazaki has all but retired from the field, fortunately, his adoration is well-documented and varied, affording him a point of awareness given to few directors, let alone animators.<br />
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Ponyo, as the title might suggest does focus on a character named Ponyo, by the way of a young boy named Sosuke who lives with his mother and father on a cliff in a small pier village, wherein most of the residents work at sea. This includes, Sosuke's father who remains absent from the narrative for much of the film, much to the frustration of his mother, who spends a considerable amount of her own time working at the local retirement home. Prior to leaving for another day at school, Sosuke discovers a small, unique looking goldfish in the shore next to his home, capturing it an placing it in a bucket of water near his house. Panicked and in a rush to get to school, Sosuke brings the goldfish with him on his ride to work, his mother noting its gorgeous nature. Deciding that he wants to keep the goldfish, he names it Ponyo and hides it in the bushes outside his nursery. Ponyo, however, is not a simple goldfish, but is actually Brunhilde, one of the many fish children of Fujimoto and Granmamare two deities of the sea. When Sosuke leaves Ponyo alone, she is retrieved by an infuriated Fujimoto who tells her that she has no business messing with humans. Yet, in an attempt to help Sosuke, Ponyo consumed some of his blood, which causes Ponyo to take a semi-human form. During her escape to return to Sosuke, Ponyo accidentally knocks a potion into the center of Fujimoto's underwater home, unleashing a wild storm that ravishes Sosuke's town. During this storm, Ponyo arrives at the home much to Sosuke and his mother's surprise. Nonetheless, she takes what she believes to be a young girl into their home and await news on the safety of Sosuke's father. Sosuke's mother eventually leaves to check on the safety of the nursing home, only to have her remain away for a considerable length of time. As such, Sosuke and Ponyo mount their own rescue mission, one that leads to the awareness of Ponyo's non-human status, all leading to a meeting with Fujimoto in his underwater lair, wherein he and Granmamare test the loyalty and love of Sosuke for Ponyo. When it is verified much to the happiness of all involved the two are allowed to live together and in the same moment it is revealed that Sosuke's father has return safely from his dire time at sea.<br />
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There are many ways to talk about a film like Ponyo, one of which would be to consider its validity as an adaptation, which is solid, because it is Miyazaki. There is also the narrative surrounding human identities and how to navigate understanding that which is performing humanism, but is not technically human. This is a new research interest of mine and will certainly lead me to return to this film in my academic studies in the future, yet I do not want to take that route here. Knowing that the familial component is key to many of Miyazaki's films, Howl's Moving Castle, From Up On Poppy Hill and The Secret World of Arrietty, I too want to extend it to consider the narrative of Ponyo. I think that it is particularly a ripe discussion point in this film, because it is heavily invested in the absence of Sosuke's father, something that leads his mother to drink on at least one occasion. It is not to suggest that Sosuke's father does not care, but that economic situations necessitate that he must remain detached from the familial space only to assure the safety of such a construct. The catch-22 at play is rather blatant, but, nonetheless, indicative of the illogical nature of capitalist consumption and idealism that has rooted itself in an unusual way within Japan and was particularly intriguing in and around the time of this film. As such, one can certainly read the character of Ponyo as the family's own anxiety regarding the possibility of a future child, one that is met with adoration by the young Sosuke, but with understandable hesitation by Sosuke's mother. In the film, Sosuke says something along the lines of it being part of reality that she must accept and the absence of his father only makes it that much more of an internal struggle. Little should be made of the love relationship between Sosuke and Ponyo, because it is not one of a romantic nature, but more so of kindred spirits. Indeed, keeping this economic anxiety in mind, the scenes involving Ponyo consuming are quite interesting, Sosuke's mother now having to provide food (specifically ham) for more than one young mouth, other economic issues like the lack of candles too take on larger narrative elements. By adding the fact that Sosuke's mother works at a nursing home, which is, for many, another layer of economic anxiety makes this possible reading of economic anxiety that much more fascinating.<br />
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Key Scene: The scale and intensity of the storm scene, is a particularly dark moment in an otherwise vibrant film, but it plays out poetically and perhaps best evidences the magical realist elements so key to this era of Miyazaki's work.<br />
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This <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ponyo-Two-Disc-Blu-ray-DVD-Combo/dp/B002ZTQVBQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389023639&sr=8-1&keywords=ponyo+bluray">bluray</a> is stunning, indeed, all the Studio Ghibli blurays are stunning. If I were to mount any downside to this particular release, it is the lack of a Japanese audio track, but that is probably only bothersome to a handful of people. As such, purchasing it is well worth your time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-18621795791459956712014-01-05T14:42:00.000-08:002014-01-05T14:42:12.221-08:00This Kid Is Flat Out Magic: Speed Racer (2008)I will preface this review by noting that I once dressed as Speed Racer for a costume during career day in high school. This will assuredly make my reactions to all things relating to the franchise particularly notable, especially something like a live action remake of the film. I will admit that I was wholly aware of this film when it came out in 2008, but purposefully avoided seeing it because at the time I did not want my nostalgia, and frankly, still rooted adoration for the film negated in any serious way. I had been told, prior to getting into the film that this was not good by the general film going public who were assumedly expecting something in line with The Wachowski's other works prior, such as The Matrix and V for Vendetta. I admit that Speed Racer, in its seizure-inducing visual styles and seismic like pacing, is a far cry from the previously mentioned films, but when it comes to a directing duo such as Andy and Lana Wachowski repetition is simply not a thing of interest. Speed Racer was critiqued for not appropriating the franchise and was dismissed as being all thriller with absolutely no filler. I find both of these accusations to be indicative on individual critical lenses that cannot accept that the film is managing to do both of these things in such a synchronized way as to completely move beyond a space of live action remake to a complete revisioning of the world of Speed Racer. Between a noted choice to create a cyberspace for the world, one that incorporates CGI graphics with a very early pixelated look and the after effects added to many of the motions undertaken by the character it is a noted shame that Speed Racer did not receive a greater degree of praise for its absolutely thrilling use of special effects. The Wachoswki's clearly took their source material to heart and managed to create something that was both true to the material as well as infused with their own cinematic points of interest, the delightful uses of kung fu in the film being a great example of just this occurrence. Indeed, Speed Racer the film is not the cartoon, because as a live action film it cannot perfectly recreate that which does not exist in the real. Between the vibrant colors, purposefully measured acting of the performers and a keen eye for narrative scope, Speed Racer gets as close to the cartoon as possible without relying on cel animation to exist.<br />
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Speed Racer focuses on the title character of Speed (Emile Hirsch) who is a member of the independent racing family The Racer's. While Speed has become the new hope for racing in the family he is living under the shadow of his late older brother Rex (Scott Porter) who died in a car crash much to the sadness of his father Pops (John Goodman) and Mom (Susan Sarandon). Nonetheless, Speed proves from a young age that he is simply tied to racing, therefore, spending his days becoming better at the sport, letting it even invade his dreams. Supporting Speed are the other members of his family Sprite (Paulie Litt) and a pet monkey Chim Chim (Willy and Kenzie), alongside Sparky (Kick Curry) the Racer's mechanic and Speed's girlfriend Trixie (Christina Ricci). When Speed makes a name for himself during a big race, he becomes the object of affection for various racing companies, including the corporate power figure Royalton (Roger Allam). Despite being offered lavish goods and the highest training, Speed refuses to join the Royalton racing team, thus leading to him becoming a target of the other drivers who are part of a fixing scheme that is affecting the professional racing circuit. Approached by the enigmatic and stoic Racer X (Matthew Fox) in unison with Inspector Detector (Benno FĂŒrmann) Speed is asked to help create a team that will directly counter the corruption in the sport. Although initially hesitant, Speed agrees to join when another racer Taejo Togokahn (Rain) also joins forces with him and X. Unfortunatley, during the race it is revealed that Taejo is under the strings of a larger corporate scam, leaving Speed no choice but to enter into a highly contestable race and prove that he is not only the best racer in the circuit, but that he can achieve victory without playing into the scheme of fixed matches. After the affirmation of Racer X, who Speed believes to be his deceased brother, Speed takes on the greatest racers in the industry and even manages to catch one of them in the process of cheating. In victory, Speed ushers in a new era of racing where skill and compassion trump deception and wealth.<br />
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If this were any other filmmakers work, I would be inclined to read the narrative on a very cursory level, completely overlooking the possibility of gender politics, ethics and even religion at play in the film. The Wachowski's however, are not any other filmmakers, and whether it be their masterpiece The Matrix, or their more contentious recent film with Tom Twyker Cloud Atlas it is certain that they take narrative to be something that works on layers and pulls from various sources to create its details. Speed Racer is a lengthy movie considering its subject matter and potential intended audience, but it is very much in this length that the film can be discussed for its use, or lack thereof, of linear narrative to create identity and empathy in a film. It would be simple to read this as a film about Speed Racer coming into his place as the future of a name in racing and it is very much that, however, the layers of performing the part of prodigal son, unwilling patriarch and thing of spectacle all emerge within the fantastical frenzy of the film. The way figures move throughout the film in a layered, free floating manner suggests that as much as the narrative is decidedly predicated upon the decisions and actions of Speed, it is also in unison and constant engagement with the other figures in his life, both those incredibly close to him like Trixie and those almost wholly detached, such as the announcers whose voices and visages emerge in as almost a high a frequency as the main characters. This all coalesces to suggest that every motion or action is in regards to a layer of contingent events that if altered even in the slightest could change the entirety of the narrative. For example, Racer X knows that by revealing his identity to Speed in a very real sense could prove the very change that would minimally alter his ability to win the Grand Prix. In a more cinematic and metaphorical level, Speed while still a good sport, nonetheless, has to learn that the best way to win a raise is not to be straightforward from beginning to end, but does require navigating outside the boundaries of the track, because these spaces are of equal importance to his advancement. It is when he must use the Mach 5 to climb the side of the mountain, in the process skipping a section of the track, that he moves into a new space. The Speed that is capable of unquestioned victory learns that linearity is futile, when those around are willing to help and hinder such progression, even if in an accidental manner.<br />
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Key Scene: The outdoor kung fu fight is an excellent aside, in a film that is for all intents and purposes about race car driving.<br />
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This film is without a doubt one of the most underrated films of the past decade, alongside the other Wachowski work Cloud Atlas. It pops of the screen and demands a bluray purchase unlike any other film.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-26586106271017696522014-01-04T19:01:00.001-08:002014-01-04T19:01:23.451-08:00You're So Stressed Out, Do You Want Some Pot?: Crank (2006)I know that whoever might come across this blog would seem to find my taking the time to even blog about Crank a bit curious. A film that appears to be a completely action oriented film starring Jason Statham that could very well have been shot entirely as a result of a couple of guys drinking way too much Red Bull before doing an equal amount of cocaine. Crank is a movie that on paper would be everything I despise about the movie industry, because it appears to be filtering out normative fare about cool white guys running amuck in a city with little or no consequence to their own bodies or those around them. Crank, however, proves almost immediately to be the singular exception to this rule, becoming something much more in lines with Tom Twyker's Run Lola Run or the maddening cinematic sporadical nature of a Terry Gilliam film. Crank emerges off of the screen as some sort of larvae that had been festering in the open wounds of the post-modern cinematic structure, wherein the likes of referential filmmaking and only the most moderate of attempts to merge new filming technologies with narrative were being explored. Here, in the frantic pace of 88 minutes the directorial team of Neveldine/Taylor offer up a cocktail of special effects, music and every other possible element that is as lethal to the eye sockets of the viewer as the drug with which the film borrows its title. It is not to say that this sort of execution should be the singular approach to action filmmaking, because if done so with even the slightest of a misstep it becomes nauseating, foolish and frankly a bit grating. Crank, however, manages to take the concept of the frenetic filmic possibilities of post-modernism and move the camera within the diegetic space in clever ways, both breaking the fourth wall and the very understanding of temporal progress in cinema to result in something that is far more enticing that it is disconcerting. Crank has the feel of being a rather fun experimental film project that has been stretched to its absolute limitations, always at the point of cracking, but never losing its tension. Indeed, if there is anything to find fault in with Crank it is the fanboys who have appropriated the film as their point of reference without doubly understanding the moral implications at play in the film or how the function as part of a larger commentary on the nature of dilmmic language and action cinema. Crank is a gift, one that is both acknowledged by a large audience, but also quite overlooked by many for its layered critical possibilities.<br />
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Crank focuses on the character of Chev Chelios (Jason Statham) a hired hand for various criminal organizations in Los Angeles who happens to awake one morning to find himself in a dizzied frenzy and barely able to walk. It is not until he approaches his television and discovers a DVD explaining his situation that things become much clearer. Chev's former boss has exacted one of his henchmen, Verona (Jose Pablo Cantillo) to see to Chev's death, but given the warped sense of how to go about murdering a hired hand, Verona chooses to inject him with a cocktail of various drugs that put his body into a state of slow nerve and arterial arrest. Panicking, the maniacal Chev attempts to contact his girlfriend Eve (Amy Smart) with no success, leading to his turning to his 'doctor' and medicinal advisor Doc Miles (Dwight Yoakam). It is explained that the drug's affects can be slightly altered if Chev is capable of keeping up his heart rate and adrenaline to their highest points, as it will keep him functioning and prevent his body from shutting down. At first completely concerned with sustaining his own well-being Chev begins a rampage about Los Angeles that includes him obtaining and snorting crack on a bathroom floor before getting into a fistfight and even driving through a packed mall in order to evade police in pursuit. In between, all of this Chev continues to load himself up with various drugs and sources of caffeine, all the while attempting to contact Eve, while also obtaining information regarding Verona and his lackey through his friend and informant Kaylo (Efren Ramirez). When Chev is finally able to catch up to Eve, her generally blasaie attitude, paired with her constant pot smoking lead her to be rather oblivious to the going-ons, although when she sees Chev's body falling apart she is willing to sacrifice both mind and body (in a very obvious way) to assure his safety. Eventually, Doc Miles is able to meet with Chev and help control the substance running rampant through his body, but it proves only a means to slow down the decay, thus causing Chev to execute in his last hours alive the most wild and aggressive of revenge acts, all culminating with him falling as his body slows to its final beats.<br />
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This movie is a lot of things in a matter of very little narrative space. It is rather clear that the filmmakers had a great time creating the film and by extension Statham seems to clearly enjoy the general off-the-wall nature of his characters' rampaging. What is lost in the visceral styling of the film and the latent coolness of such a unchecked push through rage is a larger look at the male power figure in the action film and the ways in which he too is capable of going on rampages in the name of his own self-interests, even if not quite as intense as is on display in Crank. This male action figure as body that can overcome all obstacles has its most classic connection to the iconic works in the James Bond franchise, primarily those tied to Sean Connery. What makes Crank so absolutely scathing in this regard is the noted emphasis on Chev's own survival being predicated on filling his body with chemically vile materials, all the while breaking and plowing through everything in his path in rode to save himself. Indeed, his relations to the other characters around him are also stretched by his own fight or flight mentally, here drawn out to a very literal level. In a way, Chev is a Bond or, in fact, another Statham action character, but here the sense of good versus evil becomes far murkier, when indeed his only willingness not to flee for his safety and the though of taking Eve with him is challenged by the realization that even if he continues to rampage and destroy accordingly he will only do so in a futile sense. This awakening all plays back on his ultimate decision not to go through with an assassination, which led to his being injected with the Crank in the first place. Wherein a previous masculine action hero is playing into the execution of military orders or the saving of his daughter from an unseen kidnapper, Chev is solely doing things for his own fruition, taking and giving to others as it enables him to further on his desires. This would all make for a great film, but what takes the film to the next level is the moment when Chev must encounter his own mortality in the death bed of a patient at the hospital. The existential implications in this, one of two paused and slowed down moments in the film is highly evocative, as it is not until he is plummeting to his own death where the futility of his own actions and the larger masculine hero as harbinger of unchecked power crash to the ground, here very literally.<br />
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Key Scene: It is tough to pick out of something that is so heavily invested in a strung out narrative, but one can see many of the elements at work well in the mall chase scene through its entire fruition. Also the subtitles scene is pretty great.<br />
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Crank is rather easy to come by on bluray and must be seen in HD. I was glad to become aware of this film through a blog some time ago of underrated bluray releases. I cannot emphasize the deserved place of this film on that list.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-44638059161253414642014-01-03T10:05:00.001-08:002014-01-03T10:05:55.723-08:00Fortune Is Allied To The Brave: Clash Of The Titans (1981)I am riding the wave of repetitive blog posts in the New Year! While it was not a goal of mine to compose a single blog for every day of the year, as conferences and school will, undoubtedly, get in the way, I am currently afforded plenty of free time and know that there is little excuse as to not make an earnest endeavor to tackle this possibility. I am also plowing through movies at a fast rate and figured that reflecting on at least one a day would be beneficial. As such, viewing Clash of the Titans yesterday proved to be the most promising blog post, not because it was in any way the best viewing experience of the day, but more so because it offered me the best chance to navigate a theoretical framework, this one inspired by existentialism, a near and dear philosophical framework of mine that I have become far too detached from in recent years. Clash of the Titans is a film that has become adored some three decades later not for it being a particularly key narrative offering in the fantasy genre--the middle portion actually drags quite a bit--but has been noted for its interesting use of claymation in a moment when special effects were still moving into the world of CGI, but not completely feasible. Works like this and Repo Man attempted audacious things with lesser special effects forms and in both cases excel at this incredibly. What manages to make Clash of the Titans that much more enjoyable is the variety of noted performers who offer their services to the narrative, whether they be the likes of Maggie Smith who would have still been establishing herself as an actress, or the more prolific performances by the great Laurence Olivier and star of the most adored of Twilight Zone episodes Burgess Meredith. Hell, this film even includes Ursula Andress in a non-Dr. No role which is also a nice thing to see, as she has become unfairly attached to that film. Clash of the Titans, at first glance, would appear to be a very childish narrative with the special effects magic to reinforce such notions, yet as the narrative unfolds and ethical boundaries become crossed, it becomes rather evident that not only is this a tale with enough tragedy and happenstance to prove quite adult in its scope, it is also a film that considers whether or not the presence of a divine force is truly a blessing, or if the bizarre workings of the natural world are simply out to get even the most well-intentioned of persons.<br />
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The Clash of the Titans focus on the deliberations and defiances between the gods of antiquity as the plan to move for power with their respective mortal beings, some of which are through divine ordination their offsprings. Zeus (Laurence Olivier) in particular is concerned with the well being of his own child Perseus (Harry Hamlin) who is but a small child who has been banished alongside his mother to a remote island to live out his days, an act undertaken by Thetis (Maggie Smith) who has allowed for her own earthy child Calibos (Neil McCarthy) to run wild and act in the most vile of manners. As such, Zeus with his infinite power has turned the evil Calibos into a figure that properly reflects his own terrible actions. In a vengeful act, Thetis relocates the young Perseus to a remote island where he is to fend for himself, while attempting to reclaim the kingdom an act which is predicated upon him achieving the affections of a young princess, as well as returning the head of Medusa to a city. If Perseus fails to achieve this task, Zeus and Thetis come to an agreement that he will release the monstrous Kraken upon the land, much to the concern and confusion of Poseiden (Jack Gwillim). While Thetis does her best to put up obstacles for Perseus, Zeus is able to recruit the help of the other goddesses in the temple, specifically, Athena (Susan Fleetwood), Aphrodite (Ursula Andress) and Hera (Claire Bloom). In doing so, Perseus is provided with a set of weapons and devices that makes his navigation of the new lands slightly less challenging, although he still is forced to face off against a variety of mythological beasts, including giant scorpions and Cerebus, al leading to his eventual confrontations with both Calibos and Medusa. Fortunately, Perseus is also afforded an earthly guide through the figure of Ammon (Burgess Meredith) a poet and oracle of sorts that helps Perseus to translate the messages from the gods and make the best use of the gifts he is given. While it would appear as though Perseus simply lacks the necessary strength to overcome the powerful Kraken, a last minute boost from his animal companion Pegasus proves enough to succeed, thus making his status as a king amongst men certain, even pushing to a reality where he might achieve the status of a Titan himself.<br />
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I think the last time I discussed the notion of game theory here on the blog was in regards to the surprisingly enjoyable and decently executed The Cooler, wherein William H. Macy's character represents a figure who is some how divinely unlucky, predisposed to have the world against him, although it is later evidenced that his playing in a larger game of performances and backstabbing had something to do with this. Nonetheless, game theory denotes a reality where contingency and chance play as much a role in the occurrences of a character as do their skill and prowess, often times luck, or the lack thereof making for the ultimate deciding factor. Indeed, I would most comfortably apply the ideas of game theory to the likes of film noir where they are most fitting. With this in mind I still think a case could be made for Clash of the Titans working within this framework in a notable and interesting way, if not outwardly evidenced in the way that Perseus and other figures within the narrative are literally the pawns of the gods rivalry, ones that can be molded, moved and revived merely by a waving of their respective hands. This realization takes the paranoia latent in the game theory as it relates to something like a crime thriller and puts it into its most realized form as it is a game, and regardless of what Perseus, Calibos or any other earthly figures might attempt, it is still contingent upon the gods playing a larger game with their bodies. Of course, that is not to say that the skill and precision of the earthy manifestations do not still play a factor. While both Zeus and Thetis could do their best to give various advantages to their pawns a randomness is still at play. Suffice it to say, the battle between Medusa and Perseus could have gone a variety of ways and from a statistical standpoint (something key to game theory) Perseus should have lost out, but his low victory percentage is raised ever so slightly by possessing a shield and sword as to make victory feasible. This paired with his own self-growth made for a push to Titan like statistical probability, all overseen by the hands of Zeus, that allow for him to easily destroy the Kraken. Game theory, by pure narrative necessity, might be at its most realized in Clash of the Titans.<br />
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Key Scene: The Medusa battle, despite using a now well-dated special effects method is still incredibly cinematic and highly engaging.<br />
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This film is well worth your time, but probably is of keen interest to me from a theoretical standpoint, as such I strongly urge a rental first.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-5150048695460691072014-01-02T19:35:00.000-08:002014-01-02T19:35:13.393-08:00Top Ten Thursday: The Best Film Discoveries of 2013It has been a considerable time since i have committed to making a top ten thursday list. Indeed, if it was not the last time that I did a best film discoveries of the year it was pretty damn close. While I am still tenuously navigating the space between being certain I have found all my favorite films released in 2013 and being certain the list cannot change, I figured now was an appropriate time to attempt to deliver the list accordingly of my most favored films that were not released in 2013, but were first time encounters this year. While I was able to catch up with some rather glaring shame spots in my filmic viewing (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Rio Bravo, My Neighbor Totoro) I decided to exclude those form the list, because I was fairly certain I would adore the films. The list here is compromised of films that so utterly startled me as to make me considerably change my favorite films of all time list in very drastic and real ways. These films have in varying forms altered my understanding of cinema, my academic research endeavors, or frankly were just so enjoyable as to rekindle the love for medium of film in a fresh and rewarding way. In the past year I did a ton of marathons and even managed to tackle viewing a hundred movies in a single month. The resulting list is barely a reflection of the options I had, but were certainly the most captivating outcomes.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. Terrorvision (1986)</span><br />
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Between being what might be the zaniest film ever produced and being the most underrated film of the decade Terrorvision deserves all the cult adoration it has achieved. Thanks to Shout Factory this overlooked horror/comedy/sci-fi study of the nuclear family in the misguided decadence of the 80's can be enjoyed by all in the highest of definitions.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/10/next-to-food-and-music-this-is-mankinds.html">Here</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">9. To Be or Not To Be (1942)</span><br />
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Ernst Lubitsch appeared a lot in my film viewing this year and while most of it was in regards to his silent work, this comedy that doubles as a scatting critique of Nazism managed to pull me into its narrative despite being viewed on a computer screen. Indeed, this along with other works like The Doll and I Don't Want To Be a Man have led to me thinking that Lubitsch might be a single director research interest for me.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/06/what-he-did-to-shakespeare-we-are-now.html">Here</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">8. Born Yesterday (1950)</span><br />
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This film was my first knowing introduction to the comedic genius of Judy Holliday and by far the most rewarding experience I had with a George Cukor film this past year. The fact that it also happens to be a insightful consideration of gender relations in 1950 is equally engaging.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-idea-of-learning-is-to-be-bigger.html">Here</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. The Man from Nowhere (2010)</span><br />
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I would be remised not to include at least one South Korean film on my year end list. While I failed to watch as many as I would have liked, this accidental inclusion during my Kung Fu marathon was by far my favorite contemporary work from a country that still pushes the boundaries of cinematic possibility.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/08/you-only-live-for-tomorrow-man-from.html">Here</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933)</span><br />
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There is a agreed argument that Singin' in the Rain is the key text in the genre of the musical. This is certainly true, but this Busby Berkeley choreographed film that has become a point of feminist critique is pretty damn close to its equal.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/07/everytime-you-say-cheap-and-vulgar-im.html">Here</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. Existenz (1999)</span><br />
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While this is probably not a universally adored Cronenberg film, it has, nonetheless, proven to be the single most important alteration in my understanding of cinematic possibilities and by extension my own continually evolving research interests.<br />
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I some how failed to actually blog about this film!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. How the West Was Won (1962)</span><br />
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I watched a lot of westerns in May. Most of them were brilliant. While this is not the single most realized western, the use of Cinerama made it my favorite by far and it is essentially all the best parts of various westerns combined into a single epic film.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/05/acting-out-their-dreams-it-came-to-be.html">Here</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Mind Game (2004)</span><br />
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I watched this film twice this year, it is still an enigma. Furthermore, I watched quite a bit of animation, but this by far stretched my understandings of its conventions to their greatest point.<br />
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Review H<a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/07/fear-takes-shape-we-are-willing-to-give.html">http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/07/fear-takes-shape-we-are-willing-to-give.html</a>ere<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. The 36th Chamber of Shaolin (1978)</span><br />
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If I were told two years ago that I might seriously add a kung-fu film to my top ten films of all time, I would have scoffed off the possibility, but then I saw this film. Body identity and Buddhist learning oversee what might well be one of the most stunningly shot action films ever made.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/08/even-buddhist-must-conquer-evil-36th.html">Here</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. A Matter of Life and Death (1946)</span><br />
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A absolutely moving film, this Powell and Pressburger film is a perfect navigation of color and black and white filmmaking that simply has to be seen to be believed. While it does not receive the praise and adoration of The Red Shoes it is easily the greatest of the directing duo's works.<br />
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Review <a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/06/after-all-what-is-time-mere-tyranny.html">Here</a><br />
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Honorable Mention<br />
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On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969)<br />
<a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/04/dont-you-ever-call-them-tattoos.html">The Illustrated Man (1969)</a><br />
<a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/07/deprived-of-lessons-i-decided-to-run.html">Fantastic Planet (1973)</a><br />
<a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/10/what-i-miscarried-there-was-sister.html">Possession (1981)</a><br />
<a href="http://cinemalacrum.blogspot.com/2013/06/for-seven-years-i-spoke-with-god-he.html">Sunshine (2007)</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-58511526064011818252014-01-02T12:02:00.000-08:002014-01-02T12:02:47.655-08:00Lawyers Don't Surf!: Point Break (1991)The bad movie is a beloved area of movie going and cinephilia all its own. Between movies with cheesy special effects and some of the worst acting conceivable, one has a wide array of options to view, if they are prepared to completely disavow any respect for cinematic tradition. Now, these films are treated for their absurd nature with love, many receive far more care and distribution than monumental art house films whose demand simply does not match that of The Toxic Avenger or the bizarre film that is The Room. These works usually traipse the line of new director establishing themselves and being created on a shoestring budget as passion projects by a group of friends. Bad movies are bad, but notably they are not cinematic masterpieces. I would have adhered to this ideology with such a strong voice only yesterday at this time, but then I watched Kathryn Bigelow's 1991 action/surf/buddycop/romatic drama that is Point Break and was required to completely reorganize my understanding of bad movies. Point Break is everything that should not exist is a respectable piece of cinema blown about over a two hour window, emphasized by hokey camera shots and enough overly forced dialogue to make even these least sensible person to the art of acting cringe. Pair this with what has to be one of the more curious studies of masculinity and male desire committed to film and I would argue that Bigelow is knowingly creating a terrible film as a means with which to call attention to the medium and the genre itself, appropriating a variety of different genres that deal with masculine identity as a means to critique the genre and show the latent homoeroticism at play in movie going. Since this film, it would be hard to establish the identity of Kathryn Bigelow as a decidedly feminist filmmaker, one working within the space of masculine war areas to look at issues of identity. While Zero Dark Thirty is quite a promising departure from her earlier fare, Point Break may well be her masterpiece, if only for its unapologetic attachment to all things bad in cinema as a means to crack into a larger commentary on what is truly terrible about the relationships of viewers and film. It might have been purely accidental, but Point Break is a post-modern stroke of cinematic negation and deconstruction in the most veiled and backdoor means imaginable.<br />
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Point Break focuses on the relocation of burgeoning FBI agent and former football star Johnny Utah (Keanu Reeves) a poised, but notably green behind the years guy, who wants to quickly make a big name in the department to move into higher positions. While Utah is far from pleased with his location matters are made slightly worse when he is assigned with the veteran cop and general wise ass Pappas (Gary Busey) who seems more concerned with playing into conspiracy theories within the department, particularly with their to the books boss Ben Harp (John C. McGinley). Nonetheless, Utah and Pappas are assigned to work on a case of bank robberies, undertaken by the group known as The Ex-Presidents, a moniker attached for their wearing of presidents masks while enacting the robberies. While the department has very little to go on regarding the identities of the members of the group, there is a strong indication that their whereabouts are somehow tied to a beach outside of Los Angeles. As such, both Utah and Pappas are designated to go undercover and discover exactly who is involved in the ordeal, or at the very least to find information regarding the whereabouts of The Ex-Presidents. Under the guise of being a lawyer interested in surf lessons, Utah finds an in through a local surfer girl named Tyler (Lori Petty) to whom he takes to desiring almost instantly. It is by Tyler's extension that Utah meets Bodhi (Patrick Swayze) discovering in him a source to all the going-ons in the beach, as well as a friend. Indeed, Utah seems almost as enamored with Bodhi as he is Tyler, finding his own drive to catch the perfect ride almost saintly. While Utah continues to chase down leads on the possible members of The Ex-Presidents when a chase and gunning down of a series of neo-Nazi's proves a bust, a minor incident leads Utah to become certain that it is indeed Bodhi and his friends who have been undertaking the crimes all along, putting the still learning cop in a compromising position between friendship and the law. One that goes sky high in its ambitions and crashes hard in its final outcome. All with the variants of bro being thrown out along the way.<br />
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Sure it would be delightful to just go into the almost impossible incessant variations on the possible spellings of Reeves' and Swayze's respective pronunciations of "bruh," and I am sure this has become a drinking game by this point, but I do have an earnest curiosity directed towards the way in which language, look and performance all sort of coalesce within the space of Point Break to become a dynamic and deconstructed understanding of the male body on display in film and by extension how that male body shares in looking at other bodies both dietetically and non-diegetically. If one were to read the synopsis for Point Break or to look at the poster, it seems like rather straightforwardly a buddy cop and/or law/justice type narrative, but the reason this film works on a distinctly different level is that it spends so much time--perhaps unnecessarily so--on considering the relationship between Utah and Bodhi, one that often goes unspoken and still possesses a high degree of sexual longing. The initial encounter between Utah and Bodhi comes at Bodhi's confusion as to why Tyler is now clinging onto the newly present surfer, seeming as though he is jealous of her affections being relocated. However, this sequence is immediately followed by a game of football where Utah is able to show off his skills athletically, all which culminates in his tackling of Bodhi into the shore of the beach. While Bodhi's friends call foul, this aggressive touch by Utah seems to awaken a mutual desire between the two, as though the sport allowed them a figurative sexual encounter that goes unspoken throughout rest of the film, emphatically shared when Utah allows the fleeing Bodhi to continue climbing a fence and never stopping him with gunfire. His hesitation occurs only after the two share an impossible locking of eyes from a great distance. Other focusing on the male body in curious ways takes precedence over the accidental looking at women that comes after the encounter on the beach, particularly in the scene of the Nazi house bust, where women in the shower are only caught through passing glimpses or mirrored surveillance. It would suggest that Utah now only cares about looking and watching Bodhi and by extension so should the viewers. The closing moments of Bodhi's limp body falling into the ocean, juxtapose Utah's own birth-like sequence earlier in the film, one awakening and the other violently repressing. It is a Freudian "wet" dream if you will, all played out under the guise of simple, bad movie mockery. Brilliance here comes through a back avenue for those willing to play along with the joke. <br />
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Key Scene: Any time Reeves gets to throw out some surfer talk is glorious, but the real performance of note comes from Swayze whose accent is so realized that he should have done a cameo on the now gone The Californians from SNL.<br />
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Buy this on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Point-Break-Blu-ray-Patrick-Swayze/dp/B0016MOWP0">bluray</a>, it is a mess of a movie with a far deeper message. Indeed, the only initial comparison I can even think to make is my current favorite film of 2013 Springbreakers.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-89439628036756222532014-01-01T15:58:00.002-08:002014-01-01T15:58:33.369-08:00I Don't Think Nikola Tesla Is A Good Role Model For Your Academic Career: Computer Chess (2013)It is into a new year and I have just completed one of my many marathons that comprised the last year. Some where a means to catch up with works in classic genres, while others were purely to cover cult cinema that I had sat aside. Hell even one month was devoted entirely to watching as many films as possible, which in turn afforded me a chance to do some heavy duty research while also getting published in the process! 2013 was a great year for me and by extension a great year for movies. The realization of this is occurring as I am now flailing about to catch up with a variety of release from last year that were either pushed aside for more explorations of classic cinema or became unwatchable when I was not afforded the chance to step away from school to catch a screening. Fortunately, it is still quite sometime before Oscar and Awards season and I have a more focused chance to knock out a few of these films, although I was not planning on this endeavor leading to serious reworking of my top film list of the past year. While Springbreakers is holding on strong at first, late entries by Nebraska nearly toppled it and the recent viewing of Computer Chess almost completely took the spot. A film that is shot in the vein of mid-eighties nerd technology (i.e. Videtape) about the most seemingly underwhelming of subject matter, the layers of issues at play in Computer Chess are nothing short of enigmatic. Tacking in both serious and comedic manners the questions of humanities place in a growing world of technology and artificial intelligence, Computer Chess plays out like a David Lynch inspired response to Primer one that is at once highly disconcerting and wildly entertaining. I knew about fifteen minutes into the film that it would prove to be far less than normal indie experimental fare, but the turns it takes throughout particularly in the last fifteen or so minutes of the film are absolutely brilliant and worthwhile, I only hope that the evocations to deeper inquiries that arise in this film can come to reflect a world of indie filmmaking that is in line with what has already been established her with Computer Chess and earlier in the work of Shane Carruth, whose own offering in 2013 was perhaps the most notably transcendental work of the year. In which case Computer Chess becomes the most deconstructionist both in medium and message.<br />
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Computer Chess as its name eponymously suggests is about the playing of chess by a computer, often focusing on the challenges of a computer playing against a human. Here, however, the narrative centers on an annual conference that includes the brightest minds in artificial intelligence and computing coming together to create their various machinery as a means to challenge other computer based chess programs. The winner of the competition is awarded a sum of $75,000 dollars and is afforded the chance for their machine to play against the likes of Pat Henderson (Gerald Peary) a world renowned chess-master and the organizer of the event. While the teams are represented by both school-based programs such as those at MIT, as well as by non-academic persons with interest in the subject, notably the socially awkward Michael Papageorge (Myles Paige), it is almost entirely focused on the occurrence of one teams computer as it appears to fall apart, working against itself in a way that is clearly not within the original intent of the program. The team's leader Martin Beuscher (Wiley Wiggins) becomes a frantic mess, asking for passes and a chance to correct software malefactions, while his less talkative colleague Peter Bishton (Patrick Riester) works through the night testing issues with the hardware as well, even seeking out help late at night via test matches with other competitors in the competition. When Peter and Martin's advisor emerges, things appear to be headed to a positive point, only to discover that much more has occurred with their chess program than could have initially been imagined, possibly extending to use by government figures for military tactics. While almost entirely unaware of this reality, Peter wanders about the hotel looking for answers, eventually finding conflict when he stumbles into the space of a New Age self-help group that also appears to have a penchant for orgiastic behavior. While the computer program continues to have problems, it is revealed in the closing portions of the film that it might well be an issue of artificial intelligence becoming too familiar with human replication and thus recreating it without permission a change that the film suggests might extend beyond a simple program to move pawns across a board.<br />
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This film is not your labyrinth film in a traditional sense, or perhaps it is, in that much like the other popular labyrinth film The Shining, the film does situate itself within a hotel, one whose rules and state of existence are quite illogical in the same was as The Overlook Hotel in Kubrick's film. Here though the heady exploration of identity and replication both organically and mechanically takes on intense proportions, made all the more so by executing the narrative on a noticeably antiquated form of moving image capturing. The medium is of particular note because it is the larger diegetic layer of display that helps manifest the labyrinth of Computer Chess into existence. The fact that the narrative both philosophically and humorously navigates what it would mean for an artificial intelligence entity to become sentient enough to realize the difference between playing against another computer and a human is absolutely thought provoking, but tends to ask wherein lies the distinction, particularly in regards to a game like chess that is a series of strategic moves, the greats members of the game proving to play constantly, slowly becoming more sentient of the various possibilities which emerge in a game of heavy strategy. It seems to be the lack of rhythm and repetition that causes a computer to distinguish itself from a more well-reasoned computer. It comprehends hesitancy and lack of formality as human, which is juxtaposed quite brilliantly with the space being navigated by a group of people who break down things in a highly logical and factual manner. Indeed, aside from the curiously intercut sequence of a group of the computer chess programers smoking pot while dancing around the subject of government involvement in artificial intelligence, the film wants viewers to be aware of the generally objective nature of the people in the tournament, making the emergence of paranormal and fantastical elements that much more bizarre, not because they happen, but because the characters seem so set on them happening within a logical framework, two in particular completely destroying any sense of human/technology divide in the process. This film absolutely winds into dark corners of theoretically heavy discussions and comes out the other end all the more enigmatic, but no less enticing.<br />
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Key Scene: Let's just say it involves an ultrasound.<br />
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This is on Netflix, you should set time aside accordingly.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-60157997190425345962013-12-31T08:37:00.002-08:002013-12-31T08:37:58.020-08:00Isn't Music Supposed To Express What People Are Feeling?: Dreamgirls (2006)While I had a different film scheduled for viewing for the last blog post of the musical marathon, and by extension, the last post of the year, I think it is fitting that I finished off with a rather contemporary work in 2006's Dreamgirls. While I started the marathon with an early Astaire classic Top Hat, whose structure is decidedly in the classic setting, Dreamgirls made nearly seventy five years later and a century after the medium of film came into its fullest form, represents a return to the classic filmic structure, one with a linear narrative and poised look at a period in music that was heavily competitive and troublesome when one was oppressed by layers of intersectionality. Dreamgirls is a new consideration of the Busby Berkeley style backstage musical, reconsidered for a modern audience, one that is further extended by it being an adaptation of a Broadway musical, helping to navigate some of the more showy elements at play in the film. I worked my way through Dreamgirls wondering as to whether or not it was actually an exceptional film, or a reworking of the Oscar-bait Hollywood fare that manages to pique critics interest for subject matter alone. Dreamgirls would be slightly more impressive were it to have committed to a stylistic cohesion of some sort, relying on musical numbers in a singular style, instead of using them both as a point of narrative advancement, as well as dialogue construction. Furthermore, while it should be very much embraced for possessing cast that is almost predominantly composed of African-American actors, it seems hesitant to navigate some of the more challenging and troublesome racial spaces that would have existed in the era to save face and make a universally palatable film. I would much rather have revisited 2005's Hustle and Flow, a film that challenges 'safe' depictions of race in cinema, while also technically falling within the definition of the musical, although it is in a decidedly modern context. The sum of all the parts of Dreamgirls are nice, but it suffers from a few too many missteps to make for a worthwhile and praiseworthy filmic experience. Indeed, if this is one of the premier examples of the musical in the past decade, it truly is at a low point.<br />
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Dreamgirls focuses on the musical aspirations of a group of young African-American woman hoping to make it big as singers. The three women Deena Jones (Beyonce Knowles), Effie White (Jennifer Hudson) and Lorrell Robinson (Anika Noni Rose) are young small town girls who hope that by appearing at a local tryout for a musical competition that they could win a recording contract and subsequently make it big in the industry. While they lose out to a blues guitarist they do catch they eye of manager and eye for musical talent Curtis Taylor Jr. (Jamie Foxx) who hopes to use them as back up singers for the aging star James 'Thunder' Early (Eddie Murphy). While the group is hesitant, particularly Effie, to serve as backup singers, when they are promised money and a chance to make it big they jump on the opportunity, taking with them Effie's brother and performance choreographer C.C. (Keith Robinson). While the initial stardom proves ideal for the group things quickly come to a halt when the advances of James and at various points Curtis lead to a fracturing within the group, made all the more complicated when Curtis decides to push the three women as a group act detached from James. It is the idea of Curtis to have Deena sing lead, although both she and Effie realize that Effie is clearly the better performer. This choice to market the group called The Dreams leads to confrontation amongst the members of the group and eventually Effie leaves in frustration. While on sabbatical from singing, Deena makes a name for herself, although her and Curtis' relationship suffers considerably. When James Early's old manager Marty Madison (Danny Glover) approaches Effie about returning to singing, she is initially quite hesitant, only working in small lounge fair, until the return of C.C. affords her a chance to make it big. When this realization is discovered, Curtis takes to unethical tactics to stifle her career advancement, but after a legal battle aided by the help of Deena, the returning star finds success and eventually The Dreams make one final goodbye performance, going out on the top, much less the case for James who has by this time passed away and certainly for Curtis whose respect in the industry is all but squandered.<br />
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I want to make it rather clear that Dreamgirls is not an unwatchable film. Indeed, many of the musical numbers are quite evocative and the performances are, for the most part, tempered by the various actors. Eddie Murphy, much to my surprise, was probably the most well-executed acting in the film. My concerns, come, instead from how music is used to add emotive elements to scenes that could have just as easily gained equal intensity from normal acting. This is most glaringly troublesome during the middle section of the film when Effie decides to leave The Dreams. While it does have a musical number proper, it is bookended by unnecessary sing-talking between the various characters that causes their dialogue to take on a nauseatingly unlistenable quality. As a pseudo-backstage musical, the film could simply have relied on the musical performances proper as an expression of the problems at play by the characters. Certainly, this occurs in two of the most famous backstage musicals 42nd Street and Gold Diggers of 1933 wherein the characters' emotions are affirmed by their diagetic musical numbers. Considering that the narrative is afforded a rather large temporal space and uses the spatial breadth of radio and television to extend its narrative, the choice to use these central singing moments is somewhat baffling. Indeed, it is in this insistence that the film require some sort of singing dialogue that Dreamgirls traipses as a rather contentious line between well-intended narrative on the black experience in music and something that is exploitative in its veiled use of grandstanding through musical dialogue. I am not saying that this is an impossibility in the musical genre, in fact, many of the films I have encountered this month involve sung dialogue, but this is also the main means with which narrative is delivered in the film, probably the most realized in Oklahoma, wherein it is rather clear that more of the film is sung than actually spoken and from the onset it is clearly established as a film with a reality where people sing their feelings. For Dreamgirls it has no context and its execution becomes glaringly in its poor delivery.<br />
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Key Scene: The initial on the road sequence, when the girls join James' show is a perfect joining of cinematic tricks and performance, it is a shame the film does not attain this level of intensity throughout.<br />
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Dreamgirls is a film worth watching, but only if renting is an option. With that being said Hustle and Flow from a year earlier is far more worthwhile.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796587638207184736.post-79637949265498544902013-12-30T07:53:00.000-08:002013-12-30T07:53:26.599-08:00Ban The Bomb And Do The Fuck All For A Living: Quadrophenia (1979)The musical this month has proven to be rather traditional, even when considering the various post-genre films I tackled, the music component was set aside and separated as part of the narrative. Indeed, the only other examples where defining the work as a musical might have proven to be a bit of a stretch would be Saturday Night Fever, but since it is so integral to the space of the film the labeling of it as such is necessary. In contrast, but no less pertinent to the inclusion this month is the The Who inspired, mod-fashion donning Quadrophenia which is about as cool a youth in revolt film as a person could ever hope to encounter. I decided to include it this month on the marathon of musicals primarily, because I wanted to find and excuse to finally view the film, but also because I wanted to look at work whose musical component played equal parts to the narrative, wherein each choice musically is an extension of the ideas and emotions of the characters on screen. While this is not a common occurrence in cinema--excluding melodramatic elements--it has happened before, most notably with the films The Harder They Come and Amadeus. I will say though, in the previously mentioned works, the music is clearly distinguished from the narrative, even in the sense that it is integral to its working, nothing exists quite like Quadrophenia, wherein the music is as much the heartbeat and thriving of the film, as are the wide-eyed but decidedly world weary faces of the characters in the film. If the punk movement was already meeting its demise in Britain at the time and the working class came to grips with a lost socialist utopian ideal, Quadrophenia might well be the single most evocative and focused work on the various aftermath of such social decay. Nobody in the film appears to have any sense of direction or guidance, wandering aimlessly through the film as the wailing of Roger Daltrey attempts to bring guidance like a prophet who is simply too ahead of his time. To any other film, music would be a component that helps make the film work or fail, however, in Quadrophenia it is the film.<br />
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Quadrophenia focuses on the trials and tribulations of Jimmy (Phil Daniels) a young mod rocker, whose attachment to his working class identity, is in contrast with his hope to make it as a big name in the magazine industry, although he currently fails to rise above the role of mail clerk, instead seeking his escape through the use of pills, notably blues, which he attains from other members of his motorcycle riding crew. Hoping to make some sense of his life, Jimmy navigates the world of London in a pill-induced fever dream, attempting to make passes at the girls he sees in clubs, while continually passing along his drugs to those around him, each escaping from their own communities, whether it be the drug dealing Jamaican immigrant Spider (Gary Shail) or the equally disillusioned love interest to Jimmy, Steph (Phil Daniels). The constant late night boozing and partying on the part of Jimmy leads to constant condemnation by his suspicious parents, only finding minimal solace when he and his Father (Michael Elphick) share a joking--albeit telling--conversation about the nature of his musical tastes and particular adoration for the work of The Who. When, Jimmy and his bike gang come to odds with the members of another rival group, led by the popular and notably attractive Ace Face (Sting) a heavy amount of rioting breaks out that involves destructing some of downtown London and leads to Jimmy becoming a troublesome figure to the police, which is only exacerbated by his recent breaking into a pharmacy to attain money and a large amount of pills, which he uses like candy. When Jimmy eventually loses his job, he too loses any sense of his identity and when he can no longer keep the affections of Steph, who has now begun a relationship with another of Jimmy's friends, the lone young man takes to his motorbike and traverses the white cliffs of dover, yelling and screaming in frustration as he constantly looks over the cliff. In the closing moments of the film, Jimmy careens his bike towards the cliff, in apparent suicide, however the last shot is solely of a destroyed bike and nothing more, the whereabouts of Jimmy remaining unknown.<br />
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I mentioned the way in which music works within this film, while it almost entirely exists within a space of the non-diegetic, there is one instance where Jimmy and a rival youth are enjoying a bath at a local bathhouse. The two in separate rooms begin singing respective rock ballads of the time, constantly raising their voice and rhthym to overpower the other, despite the contestation of the other persons at the establishment. While the singing starts off as a childish game of singing, it eventually takes on a violent degree as the two climb over the dividers and begin a fist fight. It is the confrontational element that speaks to what is occurring within Quadrophenia and its use of music. Either by juxtaposition or pure adrenaline, the music in the film serves as a means to extend the idea of youth as frustrated and confused, manifested most evidently by The Who's "Love Reign O'er Me" which is used in three sections of the film, all with different outcomes contingent on the point in Jimmy's evolution of the character. In the first shots of the film, a line of it is used in a sort of medley with the other songs of the film, establishing the figure in relation to the youth. The second sequence the song is used in a more ironic context, as Jimmy and his pals are cruising about London, attaching a sort of unknowing quest for the homosocial bond, while also accepting that such pursuing of desire meets with violent results in this young culture bent on revolt and some bizarre form of conformist anarchy. Finally, when Jimmy has all but lost his entire social status and by extension his self-identity, the song plays a far more evocative and decidedly synchronous relation to the film, while images of Jimmy staring through a glass window with a reflection of a pier occur with the swelling of the intro music to the film, his driving on the cliffs juxtapose the ultimate lines of love and desire refreshment and healing through the cool rain. Here the music is almost a requirement and demands that the viewer understand youth culture in a layered and intersecting dialogue at once part of many things, but always personal to the individual in the moment.<br />
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Key Scene: We are. We are. We are the mods.<br />
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The Criterion bluray for the film is crisp and vibrant and the audio of The Who songs makes it all the more wonderful.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964382571233458979noreply@blogger.com0