You 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.

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.

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.

Key Scene:  The entire casino confrontation between Tommy and Paddy is stellar filmmaking existing within what is frankly an incredibly well-shot fighting movie.

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.

Angels 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The Dead Stay In Our Heads Because We Loved Them: Monsieur Lazhar (2011)

Simple cinema is seemingly a thing far gone from movie making, wherein a post-digital understanding of the world has resulted in what could aptly be describe as visceral overload.  While works like Fight Club and Inception have cemented themselves as deserved contemporary classics, even if a bit problematic in the narrative department, their reconsideration of the forms of filmmaking have become a thing to recreate, an endeavor which has more or less proven poorly executed.  Simple cinema when set up against the aforementioned films would lead one to assume that my relationship to the movie is one without any degree of profound consideration, simple suggesting mediocrity.  This is absolutely not the case, simplicity is perhaps the most audacious thing a person can aim for in a film and is equally the most difficult to execute with any assured success.  I think of works like Bresson's Au Hasard Balthazar or the surprising restraint of something like Kramer's Guess Who's Coming to Dinner when discussing this idea.  The story is allowed to breath unfold and move to a space of deep introspection for all those who engage with its products, both of these films proving that when purity and perfection are pursued even the simple can become monumental.  I would argue that the same emerges in a work like Monsieur Lazhar, one of the foreign breakout films of 2011 and the wonderful production from the play by Evelyne de la Cheneliere and the direction of Philippe Falardeau.  Dealing with nothing short of one of the deepest, most troubling issues in human existence, the film exudes a certain poetic realism that affords any viewer a constant movement through the range of emotions whether they be unbridled joy or devastating sadness, but after all, this is the human reality and one often shunned by popcorn cinematic escapism.  I know that this film received an unprecedented amount of praise from critics and faired quite well in the indie/art house circuit, which is fine and well, but Monsieur Lazhar possesses such an earnest approach to what troubles both young persons and adults that it becomes required viewing for everyone willing to sit down and read a work involving subtitles.

Monsieur Lazhar is set in the oppressively cold space of Montreal, where a group of students begin their day at school anew and the young Simon (Émilien Néron) being tasked with preparing the milk for his classmates breakfast.  Upon retrieving the necessary amount he approaches the classroom only to discover that his teacher has hung herself leading to chaos emerging in the space of the school despite an attempt to quell the panic by the principal Mme Vaillancourt (Danielle Proulx).  In the midst of trying to find a new teacher one Bachir Lazhar (Mohammed Fellag) emerges, inquiring about the opening.  Though initially dismissive, Vaillancourt hires Lazhar in hopes that the instant presence will help the classroom return to some degree of sanity.  Lazhar immediately takes control of the class in a very professorial manner, establishing high academic expectations for the students, much to their chagrin, excluding one student Alice (Sophie Nélisse) that finds his teaching style engaging, made all the more so by his being from the farm warmer locale of Algeria.  Indeed, it is Lazhar's former life in Algeria that makes for an intriguing narrative twist for it was not him, but his late wife who spent her life as a teacher, become the victim of a terrorist attack after speaking out for the rights of women.   Burned in an apartment fire, along with her children, this death has led to Lazhar moving to Quebec in hopes of attaining refugees asylum.  Regardless of this issue, Lazhar becomes a point of admiration, even if begrudgingly, for the students and one of desire for a fellow teacher Claire (Brigitte Poupart), who repeatedly makes sexual advances towards him, despite his clear disinterest and awareness of her exoticization of all things foreign.   Considerign that the students are only receiving occasional guidance from a school appointed psychologist, the death of their former teach by suicide constantly threatens the camaraderie of the classroom and when confrontation finally does occur, after a few violent outbursts it proves to be a moment of catharsis for not only the students but Lazhar himself who had been suppressing his own loss.  Despite receiving refugee status, the knowledge by the bureaucracy of the school of his non-creditions, leads to Lazhar being forced to step down, but this is not before one final day in which he delivers to his students a fable in hopes of teaching them a final lesson, also learning himself in the process.

I was fortunate to see this at a screening embracing French and francophone cinema here in Columbia, which included the presence of the very gracious and humble Danielle Proulx who advocated for the films message over any sort of pretense regarding her own experiences acting.  I find this a great way to consider this film, particularly since it is so loaded with notions that one's identity is predicated on a paradigm of constantly shifting frames of reference, including but not limited to gender, race, class, nation and age.  As I know I have mentioned on this blog before, intersectionality is the frame of theoretical thought that considers these layers of identity and the ways in which such schemas affect ones privilege or oppression in a society.  While there are far more inquisitive and experimental works considering this issue, I am unaware of one quite as minimalist and simply stated as what occurs in Monsieur Lazhar, again the notion of simplicity not implying a lack of depth or detail.  One only needs to consider the space of the school in the film to see how varied identities are colliding in unusual and often problematic ways.  The most obvious is, of course, the film's title character whose movement from Algeria to Quebec only affords him two points of previous privilege that of masculinity and French language, all other points of privilege are challenged when he must be constantly reminded of his difference, particularly in regards to cultural understandings, never mind the implications that come along with his own refugee status.  Lazhar, however, is not the only person with intersections of identity, take the students for example, reflecting a surprisingly diverse group contingent on gender, race and class, even making specific note of nationality in the student introductions, Lazhar must constantly shift his understanding of the world to appropriate it to each students needs, whether it be one whose single mother often overlooks after school teaching or another whose parents are overly protective and unwilling to allow her shades of rebellion. Furthermore, he must constantly realize that even when his mother tongue is comforting a continual speaking in such language could prove dire to at least one student.  Other issues such as women's employment, exoticization of the other, post-colonial history and global politics emerge in this film, all while also managing to attack the very perplexing issue of suicide.

Key Scene:  The closing fable will move you in a profound way, unless you somehow manage to ignore the entire movie up to that point.  However, even if that were the case the delivery by all the performers involved, paired with perfectly composed dialogue will still deeply resonate with even the most stone-hearted.

While this movie, undoubtedly, benefits from a group screening, it is available on Netflix Watch Instantly and is quite deserved of your time.

Did You Bit, Or Get Bitten?: Sector 7 (2011)

I am known for my over defense of South Korean cinema, because to accept that bad movies emerge out of their highly transgressive and decidedly evocative country would be to admit anything short of perfection, even though I am aware that South Korea, much like the other major players in the state of world cinema, are equally subject to rushed production, blockbuster bait films and a general concern for the capital success of a film over its aesthetic, social product.  This, of course, does not entirely mean that a film cannot be enjoyable, I will openly admit to finding far more pleasure in many popcorn movies than many, but again South Korean cinema manages to make this slightly different in the existence of The Host, Bong Joon-ho's 2007 monster movie, from which a film like Sector 7 is undoubtedly attempting to emerge.  The Host is a spectacle film that uses its heavy CGI reliance to overlay one of the most earnest and poignant looks at contemporary family issues, transcendent of nationhood or class.  Indeed, Sector 7 is a film that was shot with the intent of being seen in the third dimension and since my viewing was done in the home, it does lose that sense of excitement that pushed something like Pacific Rim from simply being alright to being outwardly engaging and thrilling.  Yet, even aware that I was losing a degree of the cinematic offering without the extra dimension, I was still quite aware of the way the film bookended its film with the special effects as a means to mask a half-hearted attempt at considering issues of group unity, capitalist consumption and to a further degree the validity of gender divides in a "post-feminist" society.  I use the word mask very purposefully, because not only does the spectacle of the film consume any possibility of this becoming a key element in the narrative, it also uses the glossy sheen to hide the clear inability of the director and writer to formulate a clear commentary on its characters, becoming nothing more than a set of cookie cutter characters slowly falling victim to a giant beast.  Sector 7 borrows from many classics in this vein, yet manages to pick the worst elements from each.

After a brief introduction involving a man checking the integrity of an oil pipe in 1985, only to be attacked by something off screen, Sector 7 focuses on a group of oil riggers off the coast of South Korea who have been facing a rather bad string of outings, each time finding little to no oil.  The leader of the crew, while not the captain is Cha Hae-joon (Ha Ji-won) a tough around the edges woman, who despite her demeanor shares deep feelings with one of her other crew members.  When yet another drilling fails miserably, the captain explains to the crew and an infuriated Cha that they will be leaving Sector 7 in hopes of finding a new place to drill.  This idea is changed however when Cha's uncle arrives, a higher up in the oil refinery's ranks, he explains that they will continue their efforts here, while also working more closely with a marine biology project researching a new species of fish that was discovered during a failed drilling.  Confused, but not lacking in hesitancy, Cha and her crew take up their task with great fervor, until things become weird when during a routine line check, one of the divers' harnesses breaks leading him plunging into the dark abyss of the ocean right in front of Cha's eyes.  This odd and tragic occurrence only begins a series of unfortunate events including an apparent suicide, before it is realized that one of the previously studied fish has appeared to mutate into a destructive amphibian being that is devouring the crew members one by one.  While mounting a defense, it is revealed that Cha's uncle, along with the larger corporation, had been breeding this creature for its particular genetic similarities to unrefined oil, hoping to tap into it as a future source for fuel.  While frustration, Cha is afforded little time to confront the issue, as members of the group are continually being killed, eventually leading to the point when it is only Cha surviving to face off against the creature on the deck of their oil refinery.  Her quick thinking and motorcycle based elusiveness afford her an opportunity to bait the creature back below deck, using the very drill that exposed it to the surface to destroy it.  The film then closes with a panning of multiple oil refineries, explaining that the Sector 7 refinery is a real place, currently existing in a state of inactivity awaiting a divide between Japan and South Korea over who rightly owns the oil from the rig.

It is this unapologetic shift into the real in the closing moments that make Sector 7 a particularly frustrating viewing experience.  I am not opposed to genre films or blockbuster movies taking on serious and real topics, but it is usually done so from the onset, as opposed to purely being an addendum to a film that aside from location really shares nothing with its geopolitical issue.  I find this sort of haphazard dumping of social, gender, and political issues into a film like this not unwelcome, but problematically frustrating.  The film, assuming that it can distract viewers with a showiness, that at times is quite captivating even in a non-3D viewing, and in doing so it can flippantly throw narrative tropes at the wall hoping those viewing can overlook their non-sticky quality as they slide down the wall, at no point proving evocative or integral to a plot that proves nothing more than a glorified game of cat and mouse, wherein the cat is outwitted by the sentient mouse.  I understand that this could serve as the films greatest metaphor, in so much as the creature, purportedly existing purely from emerging out petroleum, is therefore an extension on the rampant destructive nature of consumerism within a capitalist framework, but the problem with this reading is that the characters are either set up as being to naive or intensely self aware, whereas, to refer back to The Host, the family on display takes the emergence of the monster, in all it implausibility, as though it were yet another issue for them to face collectively, dealing with it earnestly.  Blame it on the 3D veneer calling attention to the fabrication of the film, but I at no point thought the plot to be attempting anything profound, beyond simply attempting to set up viewers for the intense and showy chase scene that encompasses nearly forty minutes of the runtime.  Other readings also fall to the wayside in the face of misguided attempts at establishing grounding, most problematically the one centered on considering Cha as a female authority figure in the face of questioning masculinity, sure she saves the day and sure it is intense, but to whom does she prove this feat, when the questioning is not quite the same as that mounted against Ridley in say Alien, but is assumed to carry the same levity hear.  Sector 7 wants to be much more than its immaturity will allow.

Key Scene:  The jellyfish do look quite wonderful and were the only point where I truly wished I were watching the film in 3D.

Honestly, avoid this film and just watch The Host instead.

Only Two Types Of Men Get Shot: Criminals and Victims: Cowboys & Aliens (2011)

It only figured that after some amount of time what would be my desire to find the farthest stretches of western revisionism would result in a film that completely failed on all accounts.  To think that I seriously considered going out of my way to spend money on seeing Cowboy & Aliens in theaters upon its initial release is absurd, something I am glad I did not do, because it could have clouded my opinion of many of the film's actors, as well as director Jon Favreau, who is clearly more of a puppet to producers visions than the voice that would create the ever-enjoyable Iron Man.  While it does borrow heavily from the western genre tradition, it is far from a well delivered film, in fact, I would argue that the film is nothing more than a set of events paired together by a Hollywood think tank whose only concern for the film was that it had an appropriate amount of action and managed to make the most use of Harrison Ford as possible.  If you pay attention during the opening credits the executive producers and writers for the film appear to essentially be the same group, and the nod to Steven Spielberg as a producer is evidenced when one realizes that the film is, essentially James Bond and Indiana Jones versus E.T. and his friends from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  Again it is within the framework of the western genre, so my point of contention is not there by any means...trust me I wanted to enjoy this film.  Yet, if one considers that such a large amount of money was dumped into this film ($163 Million to be exact) it is frustrating to see the visual deliveries come across as cheap, repetitive and lacking in the sort of grandeur one might assume that is ostensibly borrowing from two of the most cinematic genres known to film history.  I mean, imagine how many films Shane Carruth could make with that kind of money, especially considering that the vision that was Primer was executed on a budget of seven thousand dollars, yet has more visual magic than any scene in Cowboys & Aliens which is further baffling when you consider that pretty much every moment in the film cost well over seven thousand dollars to make.  While it serves its place in the post-modern 21st century moviegoing canon, Cowboys & Aliens fails in regards to pretty much everything its sets out to do on screen.

Cowboys & Aliens primarily focuses on Jake Lonergan (Daniel Craig) a loner and ex-criminal who inexplicably awakes in the desert with a deep wound in his stomach and a hunk of metal attached to his arm.  Needing medical attention Jake moves quickly to the nearest town, Absolution, where he meets a local preacher who treats his wounds.  After awaking somewhat healed Jake makes his way out to the town, only for it to be in the midst of a semi-shootout started by the young Percy Dolarhyde (Paul Dano) after being berated by the local saloon owner Doc (Sam Rockwell) who is fed up of Percy using his connections to Woodrow Dolarhyde (Harrison Ford), an infamous gunslinger,  to bully the town.  Jake stepping into the action unaware of these elements, puts Percy in his place, resulting in the sheriff showing up and placing him in jail, despite the concerns of the townsfolk and it is during this time that people realize that Jake is indeed a wanted criminal, also leading to his being jailed.  Both Jake and Percy are to be shipped to the marshall, only to have Woodrow emerge and attempt to stop the event from happening, however, it is also during this confrontation that aliens attack the town capturing men and women in the process, both Percy and Doc's wife among the group.  During the battle, Jake realizes that his metal bracelet is capable of releasing huge burst of destructive energy which he uses with a bit of success against the aliens.  Jake and Woodrow are initially at odds with one another, but when it becomes apparent that they will need one another's help they join forces, eventually getting the help of the town prostitute Ella (Olivia Wilde) who later reveals herself to be a different species of alien hoping to help Earth survive the attack.  Eventually, a set of memories Jake has been having allow for him to better understand the nature of how to attack these aliens, specifically once they find their ship buried into the ground mining for gold.  After a battle both within and outside of the ship, the aliens are destroyed and Jake retains his previously lost memory and the various captives are returned to their loved ones.  The group returns to Absolution to begin rebuilding, but Jake decides his life should exist somewhere else, his departure occurs with a promise by Woodrow and the sheriff to claim that Jake had died during the invasion, as to avoid any trouble with his past in the future.

If that plot description sounds a little brief, yet incredibly all-over-the-place that is because it is precisely how Cowboys & Aliens exists as a film.  At no point is any commitment made to make the alien element of the film a complete hybrid with the western genre that dominates the films narrative.  In fact, if you took out that element to this film it would still have a similar narrative flow, all be it equally basic and misdirected.  There are a ton of western tropes incorporated within this film, but as soon as the film sets any single one of them up for analysis it is immediately knocked down to move onto the next "important" sequence in the film, which may or may not deal with aliens, in most instances it has very little to do with the latter portion of the title.  In fact, from what I have read Favreau and the others working on the film were invited to Spielberg's house for screenings of a variety of classic western and the director gave them suggestions on what they could include in the script.  It is really a shame that Spielberg was not involved beyond this point because it is clear that they appeared to take the suggestions as not "possible" options, but instead "necessary" ones, blowing past very key social commentaries and even deeply engaging religious inquiries, again to seemingly more important narrative task.  If it were just dealing with these tropes that proved problematic I would chalk it up to a relatively refined palette, certainly more so after nearly a month of westerns, but it is the case for every damn element of this movie.  For example, there are way too many characters in this film, many of which purely serve as veritable canon fodder for the main characters to go on their quest.  Doc would be seemingly content to bemoan his life from behind the counter of his saloon were it not for the loss of his wife, just as Woodrow would appear to remain cantankerous and vile, a state of mind that drastically alters when he is faced with not only the very real possibility of losing his son, but his grandson as well.  Hell, even Jake, a character who could benefit from a vague storyline, is given just enough information for a viewer to consider empathizing with him, but the focus on returning his memories only to have them prove rather arbitrary in the films closing moments.  When he leaves town it is supposed to be the into the sunset scene that is both stoic and heartbreaking, but in the case of this, at times, insufferable film, his departure is welcomed because it is quickly followed by the credits.

Key Scene:  If I had to chose something I guess the underwater shot of a camp being attacked by aliens is one of the few well-executed moments in the entire film.

Avoid this film, there is really no reason to engage with it and I can think of a ton of films from both genres individually that are much more worth one's time.

I Need You To Understand Why It Is Not Okay: Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011)

I had heard much talk about this decidedly independent film in 2011, but for a multitude of reason it went unwatched well after its initial release and farther into 2013, until I stumbled upon a copy at a local vinyl record store, making me realize that it was both a sign of it needing to be viewed, as well as a perfect addition to this month of women in film.  Initially I was uncertain about my feelings for this movie, I will admit that I thoroughly enjoyed it, but was cautious to give it praise for what may well have been nothing more than showy cinematography and layered metaphors, but this is not the case.  Between the absolutely phenomenal performances put on by the various members of the cast, as well as a non-linear yet forward moving plot, it is enough to make even the most inexperienced of cinephiles take note at its commitment to style and story.  It is a rare thing for a movie of this degree to be so realized, without sacrificing some degree of narrative quality in the process.  Director Sean Durkin used this film to come into the world of film in a big way, clearly taking no chances on the assumption that he would get follow up films, while certainly not as huge of a filmic statement as Beasts of the Southern Wild, Martha Marcy May Marlene, undoubtedly, offers viewers with something fresh and intense, without ever offering any sort of out or answer to its narrative twists and complexities.  It is challenging filmmaking at its finest, both easy to watch with its visual symmetry and sound styling, as well as equally challenging with its philosophical gravitas and societal condemnation.  Many speak of the best films allow viewers to enter a world of voluntary escapism in which they can ignore their problems, with a film like Martha Marcy May Marlene, the films images serve as a sort of counter-escapisim suggesting that much of what we do unconsciously avoids challenging our issues and misgivings.  This film asks those who engage with it to consider one woman's break from reality and reflect on what series of seemingly unrelated events could lead another person to doing the exact same thing.

Martha Marcy May Marlene while possessive of multiple title character names, focuses specifically on Martha (Elizabeth Olsen) a girl who has recently run away from some bizarre cult to seek a safe haven with her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson) and her slightly conservative husband Ted (Hugh Dancy).  While there it is clear that she is far detached from societal norms, in her desire to sludge around doing nothing all day or going skinny dipping in the broad daylight while children swim only yards away.   It is quite obvious, however, that Martha's disconnect is very psychological as well, as the narrative often jumps, without warning, to her experiences while at the commune, which is headed by Patrick (John Hawkes) who manages to simultaneously be disgusting and charismatic.  While Patrick is decidedly the patriarchal figurehead of the entire commune, Martha finds herself becoming close with Katie (Maria Dizzia) one of the other women in the group who seems to have completely committed to the seemingly utopian world created by Patrick, who ends up renaming Martha to the oddly alliterative Marcy May and eventually drugging her as part of a cleansing ritual, which leads to him having sex with her while she is unconscious.  This already problematic event is followed by Martha being involved in an unusual case of breaking and entering where a man is killed in front of her own eyes, despite her clear condemnation for its occurrence.  This series of intense and unexplained events lead to Martha being in a state of absolute disarray, helping to explain her initial fleeing from the commune, yet even leaving proves of little benefit and when she breaks down during a party thrown by Lucy and Ted they decide to admit her to a mental ward.  On the last day of staying with her sister, Martha sees a man across the river, who looks eerily similar to Patrick.  Saying nothing about it the film then cuts to a shot of Martha in the back seat of Ted's car, where she witnesses the couple almost run over a man, who then walks buy the car, again his identity is uncertain and they may well be the person she saw on the riverbank, who may well have been Patrick.  The final shot of the film is Martha looking back slightly paranoid, as though to assure her safety a thing that is never verified.

There is a lot going on within Martha Marcy May Marlene, some focusing on social commentaries on indoctrination and escaping depression through conspicuous consumption, yet the major commentaries, and pertinent to this month of blogging, are those concerning gender politics, in direct opposition to unquestioned patriarchal rule.  Little is explained about Patrick as a cult leader, yet his reign and importance are unquestioned, much like patriarchy in its most institutionalized situations.  This sort of backwards looking traditionalism which one often associates with the patriarchy is reiterated with the communes seeming desire to return to the past in a sort of totalitarian one for all way of living.  I say totalitarian and not socialist, because one cannot read a layer of equality into the world Patrick has created, aside from his assurance that everyone will receive food and a place to stay, it is clear that males possess superiority within their society, and even this is subjected to a higher degree of respectability for Patrick who apparently gets first choice on the new women in the commune.  Martha is clearly distraught from this experience and has trouble possessing a sexual identity afterwards, one that seems stuck in a sort of childlike state of exposure and social misdirection, she even wets herself at one point in the movie and instead of cleaning up the mess and telling her sister, she simply hides the stained dress under the bed, her shame is clearly a result of her negative sexual experiences, but her ability to deal with them is reflective of a person not mentally mature enough to understand her own issues.  It would be one thing if the commune were vilified and her safe place with her sister were idealized, however, both seem intent on pushing Martha towards normalcy, in which she accepts her own dependence on male figures.  Martha Marcy May Marlene is a film about oppression from many directions and a woman drowning whilst trying to navigate the tumultuous waters.

Key Scene:   The party scene is teaming with intensity and only one moment of many in which I became completely captivated by the monotonous, yet purposeful, pacing of the film.

I am quite fond of this movie, but realize that it may not be for everyone.  I would suggest renting the bluray specifically though because it is a beautifully shot film.

What Is Wrong Is Wrong, No Matter Who Said It: A Separation (2011)

I was a bit worried about including A Separation within this month, because aside from the few very captivating images I had seen during its Oscar win last year, I knew very little about it and was uncertain as to how heavily women would play into the narrative, a confusion that was not cleared up in the slightest by the presence of a plot synopsis, yet when my school decided to show its as part of their Middle Eastern Film Festival, I knew that I at the very least should check it out, at worst I would watch it and it would not apply to the blog for the month, yet, much to my elation, the film is very much concerned with women, both in context of contemporary Iranian society, as well as the manner with which they navigate spaces in culture and in film both in their presence and absence.  A Separation is a very deliberate, some would say contemplative film, about the nature of bureaucracy, truth and the foundations of religious identity, all issues seemingly key to Iranian cinema, although I am hesitant to say this with certainty, having really only seen Abbas Kiarostami films as a commentary on Iran.  It would be outright foolish to assume this to be the only image of Iran, much like saying only Kurosawa's vision of Japan is accurate, or to bring it closer to home, only Scorsese's image of America is honest.  An American would be quick to negate the urban landscape within Scorsese's films as a full reflection of The United States.  Of course, this is simply an aside, because much of Iranian cinema is inaccessible or has faded into obscurity, so Western film critics must draw from what is available and, perhaps in the future, more will make its way to a global audience.  With all of this in mind, I must consider A Separation as some degree of a reflection of contemporary, at least urban, Iranian society, after all it, was the film submitted to the Academy of Motion Pictures for Foreign Language Film and managed to win it as well.  I do not claim to understand the intricacies of gender politics as they relate to Iran, but I would be willing hedge a bet on this film representing them with some degree of accuracy, particularly in the materialist feminist consideration of gender/property oppression that emerges within the narrative.  Possessing a decidedly vague ending, A Separation, nonetheless, appears to hold optimism as its central ideology.

A Separation begins with a divorce hearing between separated couple Nader (Payman Maadi) and Simin (Leila Hatami) who are told that they will find themselves incapable of divorcing unless they can agree to terms, one of which centers around the movement of their daughter Termeh (Sarina Farhadi) out of the country, a decision that Nader flat out refused to agree to, and seems to be the main point of divide between the couple.  Simin seems intent on leaving with the family, but Nader refuses any possibility, almost entirely because of his Alzheimer's ridden father's immobility.  Simin, while understanding the tragedy of the situation, nonetheless, extracts herself from the situation, leading to Nader needing to hire an employee to take care of his ailing father while he is at work.  Finding reluctant help in Razieh (Sareh Bayat) Nader continues with his work, yet when Razieh claims that she cannot continue working, due to the religious issues with needing to bath the ailing man, Nader decides to consider her offer of allowing her unemployed husband to do the work instead, however, her husband Hojjat (Shahab Hosseini) has ties to creditors that keep him occupied, leading to Razieh returning as hospice.  This occurs a bit longer, until one day Nader returns home from picking up Termeh to find the house locked.  Frantically navigating the house, he discovers his father to be tied to the bed and passed out on the floor, only moments away from dying.  Furious at Razieh he berates her upon his return and assumes her to also be guilty of stolen money, leading to him forcefully pushing him out of his apartment, in the process Razieh apparently slips down a few slick stairs, leading, Nader later discovers, to a miscarriage.  This act leads to confrontation between Nader and Razieh and her husband Hojjat within the bureaucratically complex Iranian legal system.  At one point Nader is accused of willful murder, while Razieh is blamed for negligence of an elder, leading to a legal battle that turns ugly when hostilities move outside of the court.  Eventually, the group makes financial amends, heavily a result of Simin's intervention, moving things back to some degree of normalcy, although viewers are to assume that a high level of deception as occurred, not to mention that the events only solidify the desire for Simin and Nader to end things, much to the contesting of Termeh who is forced to decide which parent she would like to stay with.

The film really drives home the idea of truth as a relative term to one's ability to assure their comfort and safety, as well as those around them.  None of the characters are inherently bad, per se, with maybe the exception of Hojjat whose past woes have led to a heavy amount of debts, and little explanation is given to explain what led to these debts, almost certainly suggesting illicit behavior.  The patriarchal figurehead factors in heavily into how persons navigate the film, particularly Nader who finds himself fully aware of the realities of losing his wife if he does not agree to move, yet his obligation to his aging father is tantamount and leads to accepting the loss of his wife.  Yet, while these narratives and ideas are key, the film seems deliberately set on suggesting that many of the issues faced by all involved in the narrative tie to the notion that women can only navigate the bureaucracy and legality of Iran with their male superiors guidance and presence.  The main factor in preventing Simin from leaving is that she must do so with the permission of Nader who refuses to do so out of principle, completely ignoring the very real concerns for Simin's, as well as Termeh's, safety.  Similarly, a viewer can easily argue that Razieh's inability to navigate the job market without the permission of her prideful husband proves problematic, considering that he cannot obtain work and she is legally not allowed to do so without his permission.  It reminds one of notions of Marxist Feminism, which suggest that much of women's oppression finds its ties in private property and in the case of Iran their inability to possess it, even in the cases in which their husbands are detached from logical engagements to correct a financial situation.  Even when Nader hires Razieh with the best of intentions, the fact that it is technically illegal suggests that if anything goes wrong, it will invariably the fault of the woman.  The narrative, also seems to be in favor of this idea at first glance, but the reminder that it is male privilege and public sphere presence which has led to all the problems only rejects such a reading.  A Separation is purposefully critical of gender politics in the film, yet, in a very clear statement Asghar Faradi seems to remind viewers that future generations of Iranians will be far less oppressive and the two young girls who navigate the filmic space as well certainly affirm that.

Key Scene:  There are a ton of great monologues and interactions, yet a single brief shot of Nader and Simin on an elevator facing perpendicular to one another seems to really undermine these ideals.

This movie is phenomenal, I watched it on DVD, but plan to obtain the bluray and I suggest you do the same.

All Noise And No Action: Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (2011)

A deceptively simple film, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia displays what is possible in the burgeoning Turkish film culture in near epic proportions.  While the film was initially released in Turkey in 2011, it has come state side within the last year, causing it to receive serious hype and Oscar buzz and deservedly so since it proves to be a stroke of brilliance by director Nuri Bilge Ceylan who would receive a co-award for the Grand Prix prize at Cannes.  The film is hefty and heavy both in its length and its commentaries, manages to exist in the matter of less than twenty-four hours, while also maintaining relatively minimal setting changes.  Viewers are likely to initially become involved with the cinematography of the work, perhaps looking over the rapid dialogue, much of which is lost on the ears and eyes of non-Turkish speakers.  Once Upon A Time in Anatolia reflects one of those rare treasures of a film where you can clearly see every decision and moment carefully working under the hands of the director.  At no point is a pause, a lingering shot or quick glance by an actor accidental, in fact, I would gladly compare this film to Kiarostami's Close-Up, although Ceylan's film is far less concerned with the metaphysical nature of filmmaking.  Furthermore, the film makes no apologies about its cultural references and actions being non-Western, although the entire film has a certain element of familiarity about it, after all it is from Turkey, a global location nearly perfectly divided between the Western and Eastern world.  Also, any cinephile will be quick to realize that the phrase "once upon a time" gets thrown around quite frequently when discussing film titles, whether it be large areas and concepts like the West, or moments in a nation's identity as is the case with a certain Scorsese film.  Yet, what makes Once Upon A Time in Anatolia distinct with its title choice, is that it is indeed about time in a very specific sense, and not a broader period, making its fairy tale reflection all too appropriate, as well as terribly ironic, considering that nothing about the world Ceylan depicts could ever be considered idyllic.

Once Upon A Time in Anatolia, again is deceptive in its seeming plainness, particularly concerning a plot almost entirely focused on searching for a buried body.  This task of uncovering a secret takes up nearly two hours of the plot, only to become shoved to the side when those involved return to their precinct to piece together the murder.  Like early Kevin Smith films, or a Wilt Stillman film, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia is about the conversations and the reflections shared between people, whether it be waxing poetic about buffalo yogurt and lamp chops, or truly contesting the nature of human existence.  Characters include the no-nonsense prosecutor Nusret (Taner Birsel) whose job is to find this body, even if it means driving his team to passing out, yet even his bullheaded ways can lead to moments of serene humor, as is clear when they finally discover the dead body and he fancies its features to that of Clark Gable.  Similarly there is the doctor Cemal (Muhammet Uzuner), a somewhat reserved man who seems to consider all occurrences relative to their factual explanation, yet even when he receives some distinct factual discovers, the irrationality of the acts which led to their happening cause him to consider every sort of grounded notion he previously held, leading to a rather heart-wrenching moment in which he stares out a window and considers the fate of children, a group in which the narrative seems particularly concerned for, in that adults terrible decisions invariably affect their future.  Finally, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia is distinctly about the fleeting moments of poetics that go unnoticed, whether it be as simple as an apple floating down a creek or a man falling in love with a young woman lit only by candlelight.  A film chiefly concerned with time, Ceylan manages to layer the various forms of time into a lengthy, yet absolutely watchable meditation on cycles, transcendence and expectations in regards to various temporal existences.

I mention time as being something of notoriety within a film that boldly uses time within its title.  I recall taking a humanities course during my undergraduate studies, in which an art theory professor contested that Edvard Munch's The Scream possesses well over twenty different types of studies on time within its seemingly simple execution.  I remember thinking, at the time, that it was the most pretentious thing I had ever heard, however, as I learned more about theory and the manner with which time affects ones existence both philosophically and physically I began to understand his argument.  I would, as such, argue that Once Upon A Time in Anatolia considers various forms of time, although nowhere near as many as the classic painting.  For example, the film on an obvious level considers the battle against time, in that the crew must find a buried body in which they fight against the physical affects of erosion on the body over time.  However, the conversations in the film suggest a serious concern with existential time, as well as lingering on the past, both variants of time that the human existence has very little control over, unless of course we manage to build time machines at some point. Perhaps the most poignant and emotive consideration of time in this film comes when the older men attempt to rationalize the world of children something they see as being destroyed constantly by their terrible decision, yet at no point do they seem intent on changing their ways.  Instead, it takes physical confrontations by children for them to reflect on the tragedy of their wrongdoings, at moments coming via attacks by rocks, while at other instances as a pseudo-play being acted out through a window sill in the police precinct.  Time in this film, as always, is profusely relative, however, it seems to suggest that on rare occasions it can coalesce with cinematic and poetic magnitude.

Key Scene:  The apple rolling down the hill scene has certainly occurred before in cinema, yet it is so well placed in this film that it is hard not to revel in its beauty.

Another offering via Netflix that should not be overlooked, because considering its "foreign" nature it could disappear without explanation.

Always Look Ahead And Above Yourself: Jiro Dreams Of Sushi (2011)

As many a documentary filmmaker seem to agree, Albert Maysles specifically, the purpose of the non-fiction filmmaking style is to quote reality to some degree.  A larger question arises though when we are to consider a individual or a reality so unusual or exceptional that they transcend our own understandings of the real or the factual.  This certainly proved true with the penultimate documentary Grey Gardens, directed by Albert and his brother David, however, it also proves to be grounds for many other documentaries, although in most instances filmmakers manage to find exceptional subjects, only to completely drop the ball on creating their world, or as suggested earlier, visually quoting their reality.  This is certainly the case with I Like Killing Flies, a work with a incomprehensible figure that flails to cinematically reflect on the vibrance of the subject.  In contrast, exists what has come to be the standout documentary of last year, 2011's Jiro Dreams of Such, which focuses on world famous sushi chef Jiro Ono, who in his eighties still attends work regularly and delivers a product to his diverse customer base that he acknowledges changes and, hopefully, evolves everyday.  The traditional Japanese food offered by Jiro is not flashy or fusion heavy, but, instead, simple traditional sushi perfect.  Filmmaker David Gelb who both directed and shot this documentary does the idea of quoting reality justice within his visual study of the iconic sushi chef, taking vibrant but subtle angles and deep focus lenses to capture the slow artistry at work in the art of making the cuisine.  Often the film simply rests the camera on the piece of sushi as it occupies a minimalist space on a dish, or will use a series of overlaps and cuts to show time evolution and the notion of memory simultaneously.  The documentary exists both as a provocation on the state of fish-based food industries in Japan as well as a endearing reflection on the life of an accomplished and hard-working individual.  The film is exceptionally well-executed and deserved of the near universal praise it has managed to accrue.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi, as noted previously centers on aging sushi master Jiro Ono, a prominent figure not only in Tokyo where he resides, but on the global scale as well being the oldest chef, and one of the few sushi chefs to receive the prestigious three star rating from the Michelin Institute in France, an accolade one food critic quips in the documentary makes it worth going to said country simply to eat at that restaraunt.  At the time of this film, Jiro is eighty-five and shows no signs to considering retirement, going so far as to awake early in the morning and leave work quite late at night, a routine he has kept up for well over sixty years.  In fact, aside from obeying national holidays and no longer traveling to the fish market, Jiro sustains the same methodologies and approaches from his earliest days in the trade.  While many of his contemporaries have either passed or retired, Jiro keeps at his job, while his eldest son, now well into his fifties works under him as assistant chef, per Japanese tradition.  Incidentally, his younger son, knowing that he will not be afforded the opportunity to take over the restaurant, leading to the opening of his own restaurant, which is a literal mirroring of his father's place considering that he is right handed.  Things seem nearly unstoppable for Jiro and most of the documentary instead chooses to focus on the mad methods incorporated by the chef to assure a quality products, ones he claims are constantly evolving and never perfected.  Jiro proves to be the most humble of individuals and clearly possesses a hidden charm that manages to rub off on all those he meets, especially his former employees and the fish market workers with whom he previously worked.  If anything is left uncertain in the future of the narrative post filming it is the state of sushi as an art form after the eventual loss of Jiro, as well as the problems with overfish.  Although it also considers what troubles Jiro's sons will face living up to their father's illustrious name, yet as the closing moments seem to suggest, this is far from impossible and may already have occurred.

Why then does a seemingly straightforward documentary about a elderly man putting raw fish onto rice seem to gain such mass appeal.  I would suggest that its seemingly universal love is a direct relation to the universal motifs and themes promoted within the film.  Jiro is probably one of the most likable individuals one could ever hope to encounter in live, yet he suffers from some of the same hardships anyone could imagine, most notably issues with addiction to cigarrettes and forming a lasting bond with his children, even his unique distancing from his parents manages to evolve in to a degree of universality.  However, larger themes than these emerge within Jiro Dreams of Sushi, the most obvious being rhetoric surrounding passion and livelihood, one would find difficulty arguing against Jiro's old age being intrinsically tied to the zeal and love he pours out into his work.  The philosophically inclined sushi chef goes so far as to say that the moment a person curses their employment proves to be the exact moment in which they cannot produce a decent product.  Of course, Jiro also struggles with a variety of issues, whether it be technological changes, adapting to a market inundated with quick consumption sushi or changing demands in customer service, however, the zen like patience of Jiro always adapts, as he does when serving each customer, whether it be adjusting portions to unique paces or serving the food on the left hand side to help a customer who favors that hand.  Jiro Dreams of Sushi seems to answer the ever present question of why humanity exists and how one should engage life, if we are to take Jiro's actions to heart, it seems to be to find something we love and continually strive to perfect that, even if said perfection comes in embracing its simplicity.

Key Scene:  There is a moment when Jiro's work is compared to a piece of music that would be on the nose in any other work, however, given the artistic magnitude of this surprisingly minimalist film it fits in all to perfectly.

This is an exceptional film and one of the most stellar documentaries of the past year, if not the past decade.  It is a beautiful work currently available on Netflix Watch Instantly, there is no justification for missing its perfection.

Offer Relief To My Patients, With Little Chance Of Killing Them: Hysteria (2011)

The film Hysteria came and went with very little hype, despite having a well-respected Maggie Gyllenhaal and zany Rupert Everett and being directed by a woman.  Perhaps it is the subject matter of the film that proved problematic to individuals considering that it is essentially a film centered almost entirely around the invention of the vibrator.  A film with such subject matter runs a risk of being blatantly exploitative and degrading to women in its commentary, and while director Tanya Wexler certainly displays the problematic, misogynist patriarchal place of science and medicine circa 1890, this period piece is anything but exploitative.  Sure it uses a great degree of comedy to deal with discussing women's sexual awakening, but this comedy rarely, if ever, envelops the greater statement on a great moment right at the cusp of the push for women's enfranchisement.  It is a film that certainly suffers from attempting to coalesce a few too many stories and ideas into a small narrative window and can at times seem a bit trite, but I cannot help but praise its existence, firstly as a film of considerable quality by a relatively unestablished female director and secondly for handling such a important topic in women's health with some degree of respect.  It would be easy to read this film as a male dominated fantasy about what they believed to be their role in women's sexual awakening, but it is quite clear from the onset that the male figures in this film are set up only to undermine and mock, something done both within the writing and often with some very clever cinematography.  I would be cautious to call this one of the better films of 2011, particularly considering the amount of great work that did come out that year, however, Hysteria is a fantastically funny, surprisingly pertinent and incredibly enjoyable work.  I only hope it does not spiral into obscurity for the sake of its great message and for some absolutely hilarious acting on the part of Rupert Everett.

The film, while focused on the invention of the vibrator and the debunking of the term hysteria, nonetheless, fixates on the doctor credited with the devices invention Mortimer Granville (Hugh Dancy) an up and coming young doctor who finds trouble maintaining a job in any hospital for his, then absurd, theory that germs were causing a serious hazard to medical safety and practice.  Feeling quite dejected, despite the assurance of his friend and aristocrat Edmund St. John-Smythe (Rupert Everett) that he is more than welcome to have money from him to pursue whatever medical research he desires.  On a last chance shot, Mortimer approaches a clinic for women's health run by Dr. Robert Dalrymple (Jonathan Pryce) who is known for a particular "technique" that allows women to receive satisfaction and relief form hysterical build up, of course it is quite clear that all that is occurring is that of bringing the women to orgasm, something they have not had the pleasure of experiencing within their marriages.  All the while, Dr. Dalrymple plans on passing the practice on to Mortimer, along with his prodigal daughter Emily (Felicity Jones) who studies various social sciences, as well as the now outdated science of phrenology.  All seems idyllic in Mortimer's new life, aside from serious hand cramps, until he takes an unsuspected liking to Dr. Dalrymple's less conventional daughter Charlotte (Maggie Gyllenhall) who runs a free health clinic/daycare/community outreach center, all while continually advocating for women's right, most notably voting rights.  After word comes to Dr. Dalrymple that he has been aiding Charlotte, as well as failing to relief his clients, Dr. Dalrymple demands that he leave his practice.  Dejected, Mortimer returns to Edmund in shambles, only to discover that the free-floating aristocrat has been toying with electrical devices, causing Mortimer to come up with a crazy notion to create a device specifically for dealing with hysteria.  This proves a rousing success, and after some problematic run-ins with the law, centered around Charlotte's refusal to adhere to gender norms, the two find success in the profits from the device called a "Jolly Molly" named after a rather "affectionate" female character in the film, Charlotte and Mortimer are then engaged happily as they undertake a task of creating a better community outreach program within their community.

This film, as I noted earlier could have been incredibly exploitative and problematic in its portrayal of the invention of the vibrator.  I say this because it could have been a far more sexualized film, one in which the male gaze would come into play and the work would play into fantastical pleasures of sexual acts. This is not the case with hysteria, in fact, there is no nudity whatsoever, and the moments of "treating" hysteria are done with a perfect combination of humor and gravitas as to assure that they are not exploitative.  Furthermore, the film makes certain that the doctors depicted are neither experts in women's sexual organs, nor adapt at performing this treatment outside of a medical setting, suggesting that it is not an act entirely to be credited to male egos.  Instead, the film very much places the invention with a context of larger women's rights issues, in this case their awakening to disillusionment and overall dissatisfaction with their sexual lives.  Furthermore, the women depicted in the film are of a diverse setting, of course all white though since the film is set in 1890 England, once again not idealizing the women's body as a means of sexual conquest for the male figures in the film, certainly not for Mortimer who takes his job quite seriously and seems to see it as a rewarding act to help women with what he believes to be a serious medical condition.  Finally, and perhaps the best argument for why this is a film detached from exploitation, is the amount of time devoted to the character of Charlotte and her quest for equality in terms far larger than intimacy.  She is an activist through and through, particularly in her concern for helping lower class individuals, as well as her demand for suffrage.  If the film were to be exploitative she would not have been considered even passingly, instead, Wexler centers her in the narrative, helping to explain some of the disjointed issues in the overarching narrative.

Key Scene:  The side panels during the credits are particularly fun and help to ground the historical narrative nature of the work.

This is a fun and informative movie that is frankly hard not to enjoy.  While it is not a must own work, it is well worth renting.

There Is No Point. That's The Point: We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011)

Anxiety manifests itself in some unusual ways when one considers films.  In some cases it can be quite overdone and seem ridiculous, as is the case with Requiem for a Dream, in other instances it can be minimalist and almost become a character within the film, as occurs in The Following and on other occasions it can so perfectly serve the plot that it makes the film a class, check out many a Hitchcock film for an example of this.  However, in Lynne Ramsay's We Need To Talk About Kevin, anxiety envelopes the film in such a manner that one becomes almost nauseous, and at the very least exhausted, after watching the film.  Of course, it could sound as though I am reflecting negatively on the film for this, yet that is not the case.  A challenging and draining movie is to be respected, similar to the works of Von Trier or Passolini, We Need To Talk About Kevin is beautiful in its abjectness and exists as either the most unassuming horror film of all time or the darkest comedy ever created.  Needless to say, it is clear why this film fell to the wayside last year, considering that it deals with incredibly provocative  issues and is unapologetic and nonredemptive in the manner it portrays them, particularly the relationship between a mother and son that is troubled, literally from conception.  A brilliant set of performances from Tilda Swinton, John C. Reilly and Ezra Miller, along with some grating and confrontation imagery amounts to what is probably the greatest pro-choice film ever composed.  The concept of loathing burns of the screen as viewers consume, at times involuntarily, the world falling apart before their eyes.

It is clear that We Need To Talk About Kevin begins in media res, however, the events happening and those that have already occurred are less clearly defined.  We can tell that a woman named Eva (Tilda Swinton) is existing in pill-induced, alcohol consuming post-marriage life, as a result of what appears to be her son Kevin's (Ezra Miller) act, which appears to have been some sort of high school shooting.  Taking this moment in her distraught life, where she has now taken up employment at a travel agency, is juxtaposed quite jarringly with her past, one in which she was married to Franklin (John C. Reilly) after the birth of Kevin.  It is clear from the onset that things will be troublesome between Eva and Kevin, as even during his toddler years Kevin acts out against Eva, specifically harming her body and desires when nobody is around, only to act completely innocent when Franklin is around.  As Kevin grows older, his and Eva's relationship splinters more and more, eventually to the point where, in what might be jealously, Kevin leaves a cleaning chemical out to cause his younger sister to burn her eye.  Eva, despite her disdain, attempts to formulate some degree of a relationship with Kevin who continually belittles her every instance in which she may find success.  After all but giving up, Eva makes one last suggestion about going on a trip, which Kevin dances around committing to, only to go about killing the next day.  Throughout the film Eva constantly meets with Kevin in a juvenile prison where he demeans and dismisses her, up until the films closing scene in which Eva visits Kevin prior to his transfer to an adult prison and it is at this moment that Kevin admits for the first time to being lost, which results in a hug of comfort from Eva, perhaps the first genuine moment of bonding between the two throughout the whole film's narrative.

I only half-heartedly meant the bit about it being a wholly pro-choice movie, an analysis of that would be foolish and ungrounded.  Instead, I would like to consider this film as a perfect example of how one should depict and philosophically approach violence and its acts in film.  At no point does this film glorify or justify Kevin's actions, yet at the same time it does not condemn them.  It clearly draws a line of points which could elucidate particularly why Kevin acts out, yet it also helps to explain Eva's innocence in the situation, a claim that parents victims seem to disagree with adamantly, as happens up her being hit randomly by a woman in the street.  In fact, one could make the argument that Ramsay's film draws greater concern to the family structure of contemporary America as a place of latent violence.  The silences and back room dealings that happen within even the seemingly happiest and well-to-do families only lays in wait for something tragic.  Life, according to the world of We Need To Talk About Kevin, is usually shitty and there is no explanation as to why, yet it is pointless to dwell on the past no matter how dismal the present may be, simply put, there is no going back to a time before.  As Eva's constant scrubbing of red off her porch suggests, some stains cannot be removed, as such, you must accept getting use to their presence.

Key Scene: Tilda, Shopping Cart, Christmas Music, Eggs.

This is with little doubt one of the hidden gems of 2011, along side House of Pleasures and Take Shelter, it is deserved of acknowledgement when one reconsiders the best films of last year.  Rent it and see what I mean.

My Tears Were White, Like Milk: House of Pleasures (2011)

Thanks once again to the guys over at Battleship Pretension for turning me onto a film that I would otherwise completely overlooked from 2011.  In this case, it is the French period piece titled House of Pleasures (Tolerance), which as you may have guessed focuses on life in a brothel, specifically one at the beginning of the 19th century in France.  While it may sound as this is the formula for an incredibly exploitative film, it is all but that and is instead an incredibly focused, cinematic and atmospheric study of a lifestyle and experience that is often relegated to the bizarre and profane in historical narratives.  With moments that are incredibly Kubrickian style, a contemporary soundtrack and a complete refusal to shy away from depicting the more unflattering moments of life in a brothel, House of Pleasures is sincere in what it is trying to depict.  It is important to note that the film was independently produced and eventually picked up by IFC, allowing for it to be unfiltered in its depictions, most importantly in the sexual elements of the narrative.  Bertrand Bonello's film is at times sobering, at others revelatory, but never uninteresting.  Including an excellent set of actresses, of various races and ages, House of Pleasures may well be one of the most politically correct films, about one of the more socially unacceptable topics.  More importantly, House of Pleasures stands out as one of the most beautiful films shot in 2011 and has knocked yet another film off of my previous list of my favorite films of last year, now only losing to Take Shelter and Tree of Life.  It is truly a tragedy that his film did not receive more hype, here is to hoping that at least one more person reads this post and discovers the film.

House of Pleasures focuses on the experiences of a group of women living in a brothel together, as they attempt to gain independence, while also paying off their debts to the madame of the house Marie-France (Noemie Lvovsky) who engages in the business as a means to provide for her two children.  While it is clear that Marie-France is not completely fair in her dealings with the prostitutes, she is considerably maternal to each of the women working there.  The head woman, of sorts, is Madeleine (Alice Barnole), also known as The Jewess, and she becomes the cook and maid to the other women after a tragic act of aggression by a client leaving her with a smile-like scar on her face.  Her dream from the night she was attacked becomes a point of reference throughout the film as the other girls engage in acts with various customers, most notably the woman known as The Doll, who literally acts as though she is a doll for clients and the Algerian who is often chosen by men for her foreign features. The narrative also focuses on the emersion of a new girl named Pauline (Iliana Zabeth) who is fifteen and seeks the brothel as a means to escape a dismal home life.  Covering every element of the brothel life, viewers are shown the general assembly of women as they wait for clients, as well as the more grim act of testing each woman for venereal diseases.  The film crashes climactically into one party scene, in which the women engage in an orgiastic encounter that includes masked lovers, animals and even Madeleine, scar and all.  Ultimately, the film closes with Madeleine recounting her dreams as milky white tears fall from her face.  The scene that follows completely throws the narrative off-kilter, but still manages to capture an inherent beauty in the film beyond explanation.

This narrative, as was the case with 8 Women, focuses on the experiences of a group of women in France that are to some degree voiceless.  However, avoiding the comedic, Bonello's film is sobering in its reality and brutality.  Often depicting multiple scenes at once it reminds viewers about how truly degrading and dark brothel life was in a time where sexuality and femaleness were not a thing of simultaneous power.  EAch woman is objectified within the film, whether it be the literal doll-like behavior of one girl, or the exoticization of women of color within the film, it is clear that they are assumed to be lesser than a male.  We are to assume that these women seek their own individual existence and find this to be the quickest avenue for their desires, however, the reality of the situation is that their desires are, ultimately, made a point of exploitation as they serve men who see them only as objects of  sexual gratification, which they can poor champagne over or sexually oppress as they see fit.  In the most problematic scenario, men can even act out their latent aggression on the women, as is the case with Madeleine's suitor and his knife/phallic attack, which permanently cripples her, in the sense she can no longer work within her normal brothel job.  House of Pleasures, however, never condemns these women for their actions, instead; it offers the argument that they were simply trying to find their own route to freedom in the only method they knew, something that is perfectly and poetically realized in the films closing scene.

Key Scene: The few times that Bonello uses a split screen are quite intense and add to the full element of the film's ambient existence

Netflix managed to pick this up on watch instantly, and as far as I can tell their are no plans to release it on blurry, so it may suit you to see it via Netflix before it falls into obscurity.