Holes Are Interesting, There Are Books About Holes: Cosmopolis (2012)

I am astounded by the amount of negative feedback mounted agains this, David Cronenberg's most recent filmic offering.  Well...actually I am not entirely astounded, but more so begrudgingly understanding in the derisive attitudes directed towards the piece.  Existing in an ethereal space that is both within the confines of the alienating cinematic stylings made famous by the Canadian auteur, while also managing to deconstruct the very relationship technology and space has to film output, Cosmopolis is far from Cronenberg's most viscerally engaging work.  Beginning and ending with some decidedly upbeat music from composer Howard Shore, one would almost immediately dismiss it as a work by the director whose use of the body as a space of cinematic violence has become a trope of sorts within his career, causing one to immediately compare other works that incorporate such themes and imagery as being always in contention with his, usually superior, offerings.  Suffice it to say, Videodrome, Existenz and many other Cronenberg works proved to be well ahead of their times, the two former pieces proving as, if not more, enigmatic as was the case during their original release.  While I would not go so far as to suggest that this is on par with those two films, I do think people are under-appreciating the winding, if decidedly monotonous styles of this film, which for all intents and purposes is focused on one young man's limo ride through a city.  Yet, Cronenberg who is ever prescient in his cinematic endeavors seems to use this car as a larger metaphor for the individual attachment to society by way of technological detachment.  Existing in a space of the heightened simulacra on a level of starkness compared only to Cronenberg's own work, or perhaps the more jarring work of Lars Von Trier, Cosmopolis constantly demands that the viewer move beyond what is portrayed in the foreground of a scene, to scrape away at the layers of depth within a moving image, at times even needed to dig deeper to find something in the very skin of the film itself.  Cosmopolis is about penetration, both in a literal and metaphorical sense and while it may seem as though Cronenberg is a filmmaker whose movies are primarily for his own enjoyment, it is rather obvious that he expects viewers to engage with the films on a tangible and textual level wherein simple observation bears few results if not absolute indifference, but a focused eye and mind can see something both poignantly disturbing and decidedly prophetic.

Cosmopolis centers on the day of Eric Packer (Robert Pattinson) a son of a wealthy mogul, who has had his own success in the stock trade, thus spending much of his time simply cruising about the city and trying to get laid, either by his former fiancee or by many of the various women he encounters.  When told by his security guard that he ought to consider limiting his travels in lieu of an upcoming visit by the president, Eric stubbornly refuses and demands that he be taken across town to receive a haircut.  Along the ride, Eric meets with various acquaintances, whether it be tech gurus like Michael Chin (Philip Nozuka) and Shiner (Jay Baruchel) or people with whom Eric has had past sexual relationships, often re-consummating the relationships as occurs with Didi Fancher (Juliette Binoche) and Kendra Hayes (Patricia McKenzie).  Ultimately, however, Eric seems most intent on recreating a relationship, purely one of sexual means with his ex-fiance Elise Shifrin (Sarah Gadon) who is decidedly uninterested in his advances.  When a local religious leader and spirited social activist dies, a moment of civil unrest arises, all while Eric idly passes the time in his car, drinking, pontificating and at one point even receiving a prostate exam.  Eventually, the constant burden of having to worry about his security guard Torval (Kevin Durand) being extremely cautious with his whereabouts leads to Eric tricking him into deactivating the lock on his gun and killing the guard.  This shift allows Eric to move more freely about the city even enabling to finally get his haircut although it requires the opening of a barber well past business hours, a moment wherein the barber and Eric's driver share in stories of their past days as taxi drivers.  This moment proves to be the last of Eric's encounters, before he finally meets up with Benno Levin (Paul Giamatti) a hermit and hypochondriac that has purportedly spent the entirety of the day trying to kill Eric.  When in his sights, Benno fails to kill Eric, but instead of fleeing Eric climbs the stairs to his apartment and enters into his house, only to be confronted by Benno, the two sharing in a perplexing and winding confrontation before Eric assumedly succumbs to his fate, sitting facing the camera as Benno utters a few words, the screen fading to black before any shot is fired.

I want to reemphasize the way in which this film is seemingly working on a layer below the tangible, wherein, the to use a term in corporeal cinema, the skin of the cinema has been penetrated.  There are moments in Eric's limo where it would seem like the CGI is being executed in a very poor manner, making it quite clear that the outside is different from the interior, I would argue that this is not poor filmmaking, but a directorial choice on the part of Cronenberg to show Eric's movement from complete technology based detachment to the real which moves towards complete attachment to it in the closing moments of the film when the now less certain Eric enters the space of Benno's gross and filthy apartment, complete, no less with a mound of broken computer monitors.  It would seem to be in this bookended nature of the film that Cronenberg is tackling the issues of how a social understanding of the world fueled almost entirely by that which is attainable through social outlets.  The movement in and out of individuals within the space of Eric's vehicle represent the transitory and desultory nature of communication in this age, right down to what appears to be a cinematic recreation of a booty call.  Eric cannot seem to understand the physical barriers confronting his ability to travel the town during the presence of the president, because his world does not exist outside of the car and, therefore, he cannot physically understand such a thing as a barrier, a metaphor that perfectly extends to the seemingly unlimited amount of access he is afforded purely as a result of wealth.  Indeed, he is shown rather early in the film attempting to buy the Rothko Chapel, a space purportedly made for the community, which Eric hopes to possess for himself through financial means.  This acquisition without physically viewing an item takes on yet another layer of online identity as Eric can now consume the world from the comfort of his car computer, never being forced to deal with a grounded understanding of things.  Even events of heightened intensity are dealt with in a detached manner, watching a riot occur from the safety of his walled in car/computer, much as was the case with watching the Occupy Movement or in more violent examples the uprisings in the Middle East.  It is fitting that when he does finally leave his car and computer space it is to get a hair cut an act of physical destruction that leads to the further, assumed physical destruction of his body in the closing moments of the film.  The computer has allowed a person access to pretty much anything they could desire on Maslow's hierarchy of needs, yet the feeling of destruction and, ultimately, death must be felt in the flesh and in the real.

Key Scene:  It should be no surprise that the best scene in this film involves Eric receiving a prostate exam while talking to another woman.  Aside from Robert Pattinson knocking this scene out of the park in acting terms, it also takes on a wonderful layer of metaphor and psychosexual politics.

This is watch instantly on Netflix, however, it is worth obtaining on bluray, the lack of popularity has led to it dropping in price considerably, which both a shame and a benefit to those looking to obtain a copy of the film.

Fortune Favors The Brave, Dude: Pacific Rim (2013)

If this proves to be the only summer blockbuster I upon its release in 2013 I will be more than content, because to be honest it is the perfect escapist big budget film, one that is greatly aided by its 3D option, not to mention including fully realized and expertly executed CGI, something that would seem second nature at this point in movie technology, but is sadly often lacking.  I could have gotten behind this film were it solely a movie about big ass robots fighting equally large sea monsters, because I am a burgeoning kaiju-fanatic who will consume pretty much any piece of media that involves large monsters both within its traditional Japanese framework, as well as outside of this into the more "non-traditional" types of kaiju.  Hell, the fact that Guillermo Del Toro directed this movie only added an extra layer of enjoyability, one that is at times completely noticeable (so many nosebleeds in this movie) while at other times the directors hand seems decidedly absent.  I want to be quite careful, however, in separating this film from what I would decidedly call cinema, because even with its ties to the cinematic tradition of kaiju and a director who has certainly made works deserved of the moniker, Pacific Rim is a summer movie, one that does not take itself too seriously nor should it, because it exists primarily to rake in the money of moviegoers hoping to escape the sweltering heat in exchange for gratuitous amounts of damage.  The acting in this movie is exceptionally awful, and I recently caught up with Sharknado, and there are moments of dialogue so on-the-nose that it is almost cringeworthy.  Indeed were it not for the saving presence of Clifton Collins, Jr., Charlie Day and Ron Perlman I would be inclined to write the cast off completely.  Furthermore, despite being a movie that clocks in well past two hours, Pacific Rim avoids delving too deeply into some of the more philosophical and societal issues in which its entire narrative rests, again indicative not of it being a bad movie, but one whose primary focus is to entertain, admittedly, however, my hyper-analytical mind desperately hoped for more to pull from for not only my critical analysis as it relates to this blog post, but for prospective academic papers in the future.  Ultimately, Pacific Rim stands in a homage to all that is kaiju, a genre Del Toro, undoubtedly, adores, and takes very seriously.  It will not go down as a great film, but over the years, I would not be surprised to see it gain second wind as a piece of underrated science fiction.

Pacific Rim is set in the near future, a time when the world is under the constant attack of a group of sea monsters known as kaiju, whose namesake literally means giant beast.  While the global community initially attempted to fight the incessant attacks of the beast with traditional military power, their continual attacks lead to the jaegar (the German word for hunter) initiative, involving the building of large mechanized humanoid machines co-piloted by two or more individuals.  A particularly adept piloting duo being Raleigh (Charlie Hunnam) and Yancey Becket (Diego Klattenhoff) set out to continue their reign as the world's most respected jaegar pilots.  Tragedy strikes, however, when during a fight with a particularly brutal kaiju, Yancey is ripped from the cockpit and killed, leading to a traumatic experience on the part of Raleigh, who has not only lost his brother, but is mentally scarred considering that in order to successfully co-pilot the persons involved must engage in what is known as drifting, or sharing memories to create a symbiotic fusion.  Needless to say this loss drives Raleigh into retirement for years, during which the scale and frequency of kaiju attacks increase until it becomes quite obvious that the global community will eventually fall under the pressure.  Years later, Raleigh finds himself employed as a construction worker building a wall of hope in Alaska one that the world's political leaders believe will keep the monsters at bay, a foolish notion that is quickly dismissed when a monster breaks through the wall of Sydney in a matter of an hour.  Desperate to end the problem Jaeger leader and former pilot Stacker Pentecost (Idris Elba) reenlists Raleigh into the program, knowing that his unmatched skills are necessary as the kaiju attacks continue to strengthen.  Initially hesitant to join the cause, Raleigh, nonetheless, agrees to helping knowing that he would rather die inside a jaeger than on the scaffolding of a futile wall.  It is at this point that Raleigh is introduced to the last vestiges of the global jaeger program, including only four functioning robots, one from China, one from Russia, another from Great Britain and his own former machine Gipsy Danger.  Of course, training must commence for a new co-pilot for Raleigh, which is found in a Chinese woman named Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi).  All the while two scientists Newton Geizler (Charlie Day) and Gottlieb (Burn Gorman) attempt to discover the larger reasons for the kaiju attacks.  The discovery so large and unprecedented as to seem impossible, ultimately, taking every last effort and possible body/jaeger scrap to take down the attacks.

Pacific Rim is about the big ideas of a cause, focusing on the actions that will have the greatest effect for the largest amount of people, indicated in the opening moments of the film when while on assignment Gipsy Danger is told to ignore the presence of a small boating ship of ten people, because their main concern is preventing large scale damage by an impending kaiju attack.  Yet, favoring the safety of even a singular person, Raleigh and Yancey save the vessel, thus leading to Yancey's demise. This sacrifice for the lesser in the name of doing what is right comes to serve as the metaphor for the film as a whole, the problem being that while Del Toro is clearly trying to play upon this idea it usually gets lost in the battle sequences and cinematic layers of the film, or when called upon seems so highly-stylized as to be part of the idea of the gradiose as opposed to the small.  This is most obvious in the super over-the-top moment when the fight between a jaeger and kaiju leads to zooming in on a Newton's Cradle to show it being slightly affected by the attack.  The moment is assumedly intended to carry the metaphor of the "butterfly affect" theory suggesting that even the slightest of movements play into a larger outcome and to alter them in the slightest could change the course of time.  Pairing this with the act of drifting is rather intriguing, because the result is a shared mental bond between two persons, one that leads to their complete understanding of even the most internal and oppressed of thoughts.  Again the film could deal with these implications in rather intriguing and engaging ways, but, particularly with the father son relationship of one jaeger, or the burgeoning relationship between Raleigh and Mako.  Hell, there is even the possibility of a unison between the humans and the extra-terrestrial/subterranean kaiju monsters.  The problem is that the concern for the spectacle gets in the way of the metaphysical considerations of the film, because while the fight sequences are tight, well-edited and highly engaging, the drifting sequences might well be the most cinematic moments in the film, even when they exist in moments of complete CGI fabrication.  I feel as though the initial film asked a lot more questions, which were quickly muffled by studio execs whose only concern was audience response.  The film also deals with some fascinating masculinity issues, perhaps on accident, but it is something I hope to cover in the future via an academic piece.

Key Scene:  There is a moment when Geizler and a kaiju come face-to-face that could on its own justify the entire existence of 3D films.

This will likely be the peak of summer blockbusters and I would strongly encourage you to seek it out, because I am quite certain its awe will fail to transfer to the home entertainment setting.

For Seven Years I Spoke With God. He Told Me To Take Us All To Heaven: Sunshine (2007)

After my wonderful first appearance on the podcast DrivebyNerding I am already planning some possible discussions for my next appearance on the show.  On the previous engagement we discussed movie adaptations of video games and the like, which proved fun and humorous with a general consensus that most of the films were outright awful.  As such I suggested that our next endeavor focus primarily on underrated science fiction films, because I had a few in my mind that I felt would be worth including as well as a justification as to catch up with many that I had desired to see for quite some time, one of which being Danny Boyle's Sunshine, a film I had initially attempted to watch on a Playstation 3 some years ago only to discover that the bluray disc programs had a glitch that caused the pop-up video commentary to run the entire time, therefore placing it on the back burner until I later obtained a regular bluray player, as well as a copy of the film, which I had at the time ordered from Netflix.  Thankfully, I was forced because my then two year younger frame of cinematic reference might have lost sight as to the truly profound things occurring within the context of Boyle's film.  While I will always have a deep admiration and thus favor 28 Days Later... I would not hesitate to suggest that Sunshine currently stands as Boyle's masterpiece.  Between its genre hybridity, its ambient soundtrack and some excellent acting by all involved one could easily describe Sunshine as being an orchestral film perfectly layered with competing sounds and grand ideas while also lending itself to subtle infusions of alienation, desire and isolation, all themes that exists in unique manners within the sci-fi, particularly the space travel, genre.  While I am always jumping to state that Paul Thomas Anderson and Steven Soderbergh are the best directors currently working, I am also aware that many of their works can be a tinge bit alienating to the more traditional filmgoer, where as Boyle manages to make narratively direct films that are nonetheless captivating and to the more seasoned film viewer prove to engage with a cinematic language and vision that is unique, inventive and in possession of a finger on the pulse of the future of film.  I in the process of viewing this film am convinced yet again that Boyle may well be the best director working today.

Sunshine focuses on the crew of the Icarus 2, a spaceship whose orders are to travel to the sun with a bomb that will reignite the cooling sun and subsequently heat up the earth that is beginning to freeze from the lack of heat.  The task has a certain degree of uncertainty attached to it since they are not the first crew to attempt the endeavor and are indeed following in a direct route behind the previous Icarus 1 team who disappeared inexplicably on the way to the sun.  The crew is headed by Captain Kaneda (Hiroyuki Sanada) a stoic and direct Japanese man whose approachability and poise make him an excellent leader.  Under Kaneda include the likes of an entire and diverse crew whether it be Searle (Cliff Curtis) the ship's psychological officer who has a particularly vested preoccupation with staring at the closely impending sun, the brash but well meaning engineer Mace (Chris Evans) or even the somewhat emotive pilot Cassie (Rose Byrne).  The clear odd man in the group is the ships physicist, in charge of operating the bomb Robert Capa (Cillian Murphy).  Together they are undertaking a dangerous task, one that is reaffirmed when they begin receiving contact signals from Icarus 1, which are identified as distress signals, a haunting revelation that is paired by the equally disturbing news that due to a trajectory malfunction the ship is hightailing towards certain destruction.  Kaneda and Capa take it upon themselves to correct the issue only to result in the loss of Kaneda in the process.  This change of direction leads the crew to being in line with the lost Icarus 1 chip, which they quickly mount and discover the crew to be burned alive, an obvious result of their failed equipment in such a close relation to the blistering sun.  At this point all forms of technology falter and other crew members die in the process, a tragic occurrence which doubles as a boon considering that oxygen becomes scarce.  Aiming to complete the mission, a conversation with the ship's artificial intelligence leads Capa to discover that they have an extra person occupying space on the ship, the extremely burnt Pinbacker (Mark Strong) whose psychological state has deteriorated, leading him to believe it is his task to destroy the crew and bring death to the world in the process.  While Pinbacker begins killing the remaining crew, Capa finishes the mission and ultimately escapes, leaving Pinbacker to die and bringing brightness back the the ice crusted Earth, although the survival of Capa is left in question in the films closing scenes.

Danny Boyle, never one to hide his clear influences, made open statements about the influences of Kubrick, Scott and Tarkovsky on this particular film, particularly the manner with which space and its simulacrums serve as a fabrication of the experiential world of Earth that can only fall apart under the foolishness of its own artifice.  Whether it be the space islands of Solaris, the failure of gender roles in Alien, or a complete reconsideration of evolution as occurs in 2001: A Space Odyssey, one realizes that to seek uniformity and normalcy within the expansive, and for sake of argument limitless voids of the stars is assured alienation and destruction.  Danny Boyle, in the cinematic genius that he has proven himself to be, manages to extend this beyond the metaphor of space to the very nature of cinema itself.  It is easy to pick up the rather distinct references to a godlike presence within the film whether it be each characters decidedly elaborate moral compass, or the fact that the space ships all look like large optical lenses but every thing is in the presence of something so much larger that their respective sanities crack in an attempt to comprehend its omnipresent state.  Indeed the bright, searing light of the sun breaching the windows could also be seen as a statement on this element, but it is what Boyle does with the images and subliminal moments that make it something far greater.  Throughout the film, the ambient soundtrack swells and sinks with the action and drama of the narrative, yet one could argue that when music is needed most, it is often paired with silence or jarring musical riffs that crackle against normalcy, as though being tampered with by the very film itself.  Similarly, when the inexplicably living Pinbacker begins to implement his havoc upon the surviving members of Icarus 2, the films images begin to split and mirror themselves, which along with extreme angles and profile closeups manage to completely immerse the viewer, through of all things, making them feel disconnected and alienated by the entire experience.  It is not until Capa comes into contact with something so grand and fantastical that the narrative reclaims its normalcy, perhaps as a result of coming face-to-face with that intangible thing that is greater than the singular human experience.  While I am not prone to call things God, I am sure Boyle is aware of the challenges of contemporary astrophysicists to pinpoint the force that holds the universe together, and it clearly influenced not only his narrative, but the very method with which he made the narrative exist on film.

Key Scene:  Kaneda's death is moving, tragic and highly cinematic.

Bluray...no excuse.

I'll Be Shooting For My Own Hand: Brave (2012)

It is almost always a sure thing that a film by Disney will at the very least look amazing, and it is only a notion extended when one considers that the best work by the company is often released by Pixar, which is exceptionally spectacular.  However, what is much less assured is to what social commentaries the films may make, for example, Wall-E serves as a gorgeous piece of 3D animated film while also being a surprisingly scathing critique of all things leading our technological society to brainless reliance on machines.  In contrast is Tangled, one of the more cinematic Disney film, that draws upon some excellent references to old school Robin Hood movies, as well as also containing a significant female character.  Yet, Tangled, like so many of its predecessors manages to regress into heteronormativity by its closing moments never really allowing the revolutionary gender politics it seems so intent on setting up in the films opening moments.  Brave, a film from last year, seemed to continually emerge as this sort of enigmatic feminist statement directed at kids, via a Pixar film, although, the more I think about it, I would argue that Pixar aims the narrative elements of its films at adults, while offering sound visual elements to capture children.  Regardless, Brave is, much to my surprise, quite embracing of women's singularity and manages to make a considerable portion of the narrative center around this element, as one young girl struggles to reject gender commodifications and perform in a way that she finds comfortable and liberating, regardless of the expectations of tradition.  Brave is both a highly entertaining film, as well as one that keeps its narrative focus direct and socially advanced.  It was quite easy for me to become captured in the flora laden landscape of the film occupied by vibrant characters and some of the best human-based Pixar animation to date.  It is an incredibly fast-paced film that is perfect for young audiences, yet manages to pack a heavy set of gender reconsiderations into its world in the process.  While it is by no means a superior film to Frankenweenie, I can better understand now, after viewing, why this film has received such rave reviews, and, ultimately, and Oscar.

Brave focuses on the young life of Merida (Kelly MacDonald) a princess, in a Scottish clan whose love for archery and living in the outdoors has emerged directly from the tutelage of her father Fergus (Billy Connolly) a king whose leg was lost defending his family and clan from a deathly bear attack.  This emphasis on athleticism and outdoor activities is much maligned by her mother Elinor (Emma Thompson) who hopes that Merida will willingly align herself with history and give her hand to a suitor from a nearby clan as a means of assuring peace in the area.  While Fergus is quite lacking in his support of such a decision, he does realize its necessity to assure clan peace, therefore, falling in line with Elinor when she forces Merida to follow the orders and give her hand to who ever wins a contest. Even after Merida attempts to win her own hand in the competition, the fact proves that she must still get married.  In a last ditch moment of frustration,  Merida visits The Witch (Julie Walters) who agrees to provide Merida with an escape in exchange for a metal amulet.   The spell takes the form of a cake that Elinor is to eat, Merida thinking it will only cause her mother to change her mind gives it to her in excitement, yet when Elinor becomes sick almost immediately after consuming the food things take a serious turn.  The spell Merida has obtained causes her mother to change, not her mind, but physical form into that of a bear, of course, leading to her immediate danger when Fergus senses the presence of a bear within his castle.  Escaping from the castle with just enough time to spare, Merida and her mother seek The Witch to alter the spell, but she is nowhere to be found, instead leaving a riddle as to how to reverse the spell, before her mother becomes like Mor'duu another person whose selfish desires led him to being turned into a bear.  Yet, the persistent chase of Fergus leads to a showdown in a stonehenge-like battlefield, where Merida brings a fixed tapestry that she had damaged earlier in frustration against her mother.  Realizing the seriousness of the matter, Fergus steps back and, with Merida in tears, Elinor finally becomes a human again, the family reunited and the clans at ease.  The narrative ends with Merida embracing her role as princess, but with the full knowledge that she can choose to marry, or not to, at her own convenience.

While I am fully aware that it is not a particularly radical film in its portrayal of unconventional gender roles, Brave, as a piece of animated film, could have been much more heteronormative and still probably made a ton at the box office.  However, the deliberate choice, on the part of the collective of directors and writers to make Merida her own individual, even in the closing moments of the film is quite a powerful thing.  The film is about choosing a lifestyle that is both comforting and rewarding, as opposed to preordained and mandatory.  Merida loathes the idea of feminine beauty and constant beauty regiments, emphasized by her unkempt hair and her disdain when it is trapped within a headdress.  Elinor does not seem so opposed to Merida's personal pleasures and enjoyments because she assumes that it is unnatural or playing against her gender, but because she is fully aware of the political consequences of her daughters choice not to act the part.  It is a larger commentary on institutionalization, internalization and fear of working against an unrealistic notion of the ideal.  In fact, I would not even suggest that this film outright rejects femininity, because, after all, it is Merida's fixing of a tapestry that allows her mother to return to human form.  I am not suggesting that now, textile and tapestry work is uniquely feminine, but within the historical context of the film that would have certainly been the case, therefore, the narrative seems to open up its necessity.  With both commentaries existing against one another it seems to be a film that draws out the necessity of possessing both masculine and feminine qualities, without being forced to exist within one spectrum at one time.  Furthermore, Merida's existence by herself in the films closing moments say that gender is not predicated on finding an other to fifth the dichotomy, but can certainly be its own stand alone element and should be entirely the choice of the individual in question.

Key Scene:  The archery contest is fun and hearkens back to the old Robin Hood films of the thirties.

This is not a film I feel is absolutely worth owning, however, it is quite enjoyable and certainly worth renting.

This Guy Took My Teddy Bear!: Ted (2012)

I remember distinctly a divide as far as reactions were concerned upon the discovery that Seth MacFarlane would be making his directorial debut in something not directly tied to the Family Guy franchise.  One side heralded it as a much needed movement towards the mainstream, although to be fair it is quite impossible to find an individual who has not watch an episode, let along entire seasons of one of the most prolific comedies of the past decade.  The other divide seemed content on dismissing it entirely referring to it as a cheap attempt by the director to cash in on his name and its ties to Family Guy while also engaging in his own filmic desires.  I am somewhat ashamed to admit that for a brief time I certainly fell into the latter category, having found myself growing away from Family Guy over the years and assumed Ted to simply not be for my palette.  However, I managed to catch up with MacFarlane when he hosted the season premier of Saturday Night Live and was completely enamored with the earnestness and vivacity placed into his skits and presence, furthermore, I was reminded that he is truly one of the greater comedic minds of the last decade, both in delivery and in accessibility.  While I have found myself attempting to rediscover Family Guy, at this point with little success, I did find Ted to be much, much more than I anticipated.  While I am one of the growing number of fans supporting the work of Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller as far as over-the-top absurdist comedy is concerned, I find myself watching the work of Harold Ramis and John Landis and wondering where the deceptively simple, normal guy in an unusual situation comedy went.  Thankfully, Ted has shown me that in the hands of Seth MacFarlane this type of comedy is certainly possible and, while he has a ways to go before getting to his level of perfection, MacFarlane is certifiably the closest thing American moviegoers have to a Harold Ramis...aside of course from the still living Harold Ramis, although to be fair it has been sometime since the comedic auteur has offered anything of notoriety.  Ted is far from a perfect film, but it easily falls on the side of being good and shows promise for a successful future for the still young MacFarlane.

Ted begins with the story of John Bennett (Mark Wahlberg) who has always been a slightly awkward person, so much so that he found considerable difficulties making friends as a child.  As such, when he receives a talking teddy bear from his parents for one Christmas, he makes a wish that it would come to life and be his friend forever.  Luckily for John, his wish is granted as a miracle of sorts and he awakes to his bear named Ted (Seth MacFarlane) talking and moving around.  Once verifying that he is not imagining it, John shares his new friend with the world. allowing to become an overnight sensation, which of course comes with its own set of problems leading to run-ins with law enforcement and a fall from popularity, although all along the way he makes sure to stay a dear friend to John.  Fast forward a few decades and John finds himself in a dead-end job, preferring to get high with Ted on a daily basis, as opposed to securing a promising future for himself and his girlfriend Lori (Mila Kunis).  Giving him an ultimatum, John is forced to choose a future with Lori over a comforting present with Ted, causing the disheartened bear to move out on his own and take up a job at a local grocery store, eventually creating his own relationship with an employee.  Yet, certain elements of his past are harder to shake and John continues to sneak away from work and events with Lori to hang out with Ted, leading to an accident in which Lori demands that John move out, much to the delight of Lori's asshole boss Rex (Joel McHale) who has been eyeing Lori for sometime.  John goes out of his way to win Lori back, partially from his own will, but also because Ted promises Lori that he will remove himself entirely from the couple's life if she gives John one more shot.  In the process of agreeing to this, Ted is kidnapped by a psychotic admirer and his son who has an apparent penchant for destructive behavior, leading to Ted reaching out to John despite his previous promise.  Lori in a moment of instantaneous understanding and compassion agrees to help John find Ted, leading to a crazy traversing of Fenway Park.  They eventually save Ted, although he is torn in half in the process, leading to a hopeful repair and a wish from somebody besides John for Ted return.  The film ends on a happy note as Ted returns comfortably back into John's life, while John is also able to mature and marry Lori in the process.

Buried deep beneath the profusely graphic excrement humor and jokes about old people being anti-semetic lies a very real commentary on the troubles of growing old and embracing adulthood that seem all too relevant to Seth MacFarlane, a comedian who is often criticized for being immature almost entirely as a result of his attachment to Family Guy, although I learned during Barbara Walter's "Most Fascinating People of 2012" that he began the show at 26, making him the youngest executive producer on a primetime show ever, a notable accomplishment for a person who is allegedly childish. Of course, Ted makes it very clear that there is a line to be drawn as to what is acceptable for a thirty year old man to be doing with his life and getting high, while making just over minimum wage at a rental car dealership is certainly not one of them, not to mention a problematic fear of thunderstorms that can only be placated by a talking bear.  Of course, in MacFarlane's infinite wisdom a complete disavowal of all these thing is not correct either, for a little light indulgence now and then along with a healthy attachment to one's childhood nostalgia can be a productive thing.  In fact, the narrative makes it rather clear what an unhealthy attachment to the past looks like via Ted's kidnapper who is a single dad who has allowed his son to become hyper-violent while living in his own grand delusion that allows him to dance to eighties mall pop music.  It is a very sound philosophical statement that exists within Ted one that reminds viewers of the very real responsibilities they must deal with on a daily basis, whether it be self-advancement or caring for the ones you love, while also not become so wound up with assuring everyones happiness that you ignore your own mental well being.  It also does not hurt that this film invests heavily in the possibilities of wishing for the unlikely.  A quick glance at MacFarlane's own struggles to get Family Guy on the air proves his own believe in having high ambitions.  Again the film is simple in its narrative, but it is in this muted approached to narrative that I hope MacFarlane is able to find comedic perfection.

Key Scene:  The party scene is pretty good and made all the funnier by some very self-referential humor on the part of MacFarlane.

This is a solid rental film and well worth checking out as it was easily one of the best comedies of last year.

Big Things Have Small Beginnings: Prometheus (2012)

I am constantly baffled by the way that decidedly watchable movie become victim to heavy criticism and end up completely disregarded or even worse, deemed bad and to be ignored.  This was absolutely the case with Cloud Atlas, which will, undoubtedly, prove to be the sleeper hit of 2012 and probably end up being a film highly praised ten or fifteen years from now, while many of the other works this year will fade into obscurity.  Prometheus is certainly no Cloud Atlas, but this extremely loose prequel to Alien is by no means a terrible film and aside from a rather drawn out and rocky third act it is a completely watchable and definitively enjoyable film.  I am almost certain that a larger portion of the condemnation directed towards Prometheus comes from the mass expectation that the film would exist in a cinematic framework similar to that of Alien, yet at this point in Ridley Scott's career the action heavy element simply does not fit his framework any longer, favoring, instead, the reflective, enigmatic nature of works like Blade Runner, for which Prometheus seems to share closer ties.  Of course, this is not to overlook the introspective nature of Scott's original Alien film, unfortunately, I am also certain that the average moviegoer foolishly lumps the trilogy into a set of films made by a single director, however, as most readers know the trilogy was directed by three distinct directors, who have branched out in considerably varied directions.  Nonetheless, Prometheus is calling back to this original work and no matter how much Scott attempts to deny its relationship to Alien, the various visual cues and the seemingly forced extra closing scene tie the film together.  Of course, the film is a visual masterpiece, one could expect no less from Scott and his creative team and it is hard to find a bad performance within the film, although I would make a particular note of Michael Fassbender who, as I am sure I have said before, is proving himself to have an acting caliber equal to that of a Daniel Day-Lewis or a Phillip Seymour Hoffman.  While it will be quite unlikely that Prometheus will be even close to cracking my top ten films of the year, I must confess that it is far better than the negative press it seems to have received, although my bias favoring Blade Runner may very well cloud a subjective review, but to be fair critics, by their very nature, live in a world of objectivism.

Prometheus begins in a rather expansive way focusing on some far off universe where a large blue being is depicted drinking some sort of black liquid, only to immediately follow this consumption with his body becoming overpowered by black virus resulting in his crumbling and falling into waters.  The narrative then fast forwards considerably to depict two scientists Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) and Charlie Halloway (Logan Marshall-Green) discovering a cave drawing of a colossus pointing towards a set of stars.  This drawing, it is later revealed, has been discovered at various places in the world from different time period that would have yet to have been in contact to have shared such information.  Shaw believes that these images point to some sort of creation figure, a quest for a God of sorts, something that influences her navigation through space after the death of her father decades earlier.  The narrative moves forward to 2093 and viewers are shown the spaceship Prometheus moving through space, helmed by the robot/cyborg David (Michael Fassbender) a cold and distancing figure whose quest for learning and "understanding" human nature is marred by his lack of a soul, although it is clear he take a particular interest in the historical figure of T.E. Lawrence, as depicted in Lawrence of Arabia.  Regardless, David is subject to the orders of Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron) a stoic and distancing captain who simply concerns herself with enacting the orders of their employer Peter Weyland (Guy Pierce) an aging man whose dying wishes were to help Shaw and Halloway discover the source of the cave drawings, which appear to exist in some planet so far in the depths of space that it would have been impossible for any astronomer to discover it till well into the twenty-first century.  Along with a diverse crew they approach the planet to discover it seemingly uninhabited with the exception of thousands of air-tight sealed pods.  David, however, possesses and ability to recreate moments in the past through a sort of particle regeneration and it is revealed that the beings of the planet were seemingly overtaken by some violent bug, causing them to die in a mass genocide of sorts.  This bug, becomes a source of fascination for David, as well as a threat to the members of the crew, especially when it becomes released on the ship.  Needless to say distrust and deception cause the ship and crew to fall apart leading to a large, messy and climactic encounter with "their maker," one that sets into motion a series of events that will inevitably result in the world depicted in Scott's earlier film.

The preoccupation with a higher being is something new to a Ridley Scott film, at least in regards to the works I have seen.  Take for example Blade Runner, it is clearly a film intended to remind viewers that their own aspirations to reach the heavens, by creating a veritable Tower of Babel, or building futuristic pyramids, are only a result of their own foolish hubris, put into check by a couple of cyborgs that deconstruct exactly what factors into human experience.  Similarly, Alien is many things, if not specifically, a reminder that human exploration and endeavor will invariably lead to their downfall and a lonely foray into nothingness, completely detached from a higher being.  With these two films as a reference point it would seem that Prometheus stands as a stalwart consideration of the place a higher entity plays in human understanding and as a suggestion that to obtain any semblance of a quantifiable relationship would prove to end all frustration.  However, in the tradition of Scott's films, the quest is ultimately unravelled by the human desire for more.  They find the colossus figures that served as a point of question for nearly two thousand years, only to realize that the movement of point A to point B results in wondering what lies within point C.  As the characters confess, they may well have found their maker, but what about their maker's maker, a terribly extensive inquiry into the nature of existence and a sort of larger transcendental scope.  While Scott could simply be suggesting that a quest for any one single ideology is foolish, it appears as though he is completely deconstructing any sense of a creation myth, because as he believes it to be, such myths do not account for the origins of the crafter of said creations (a mindful and a mouthful to be sure).  As his films clearly seem to do, and as Kubrick did years ago with 2001: A Space Odyssey, who looks at the tragedies of human understanding both as they long for a backwards movement, as with Shaw's quest for God, as well as in their forward looking notions as with the interactions with David, who reminds the humans that he was created to look like them as a means of comforting, a deeply profound statement on our own disconcerting relationship with artificial intelligence as an extension of the normalized self.  While I am not sure that Scott provides an answer he certainly seems to suggest living within a moment, as opposed to dwelling on the past or future, one of the seeming golden rules of life as it were.

Key Scene:  The unveiling of the universe schematic when initially discovered by David is one of the most beautiful moments in the film, despite being nearly entirely comprised of CGI effects.

This is a solid film, not one for everyone, but for those individuals who truly get the philosophical inquiries present in films like Blade Runner and Alien, Prometheus should prove a welcome surprise.  I would say rent it and be the judge of its value.

I'm Bad, And That's Good: Wreck-It Ralph (2012)

I am quite uncertain about the overarching message relating to Wreck-It Ralph, while it appears to be a scathing critique of capitalist based endeavors, it also does little to clearly condemn the notion of conformity as the only means to assure safety and order.  What is excellent about the film, regardless of a convoluted moral message, is its sheer degree of watchability, particularly visually.  A diehard video game fan will likely react to this film in one of two ways.  Either they will dismiss the very minimal use of famous video game iconography due to licensing issues and thus find it to be an all around failure in concerns to the notion of a game about games (I assure you it is not quite that meta).  The other reaction to the film will be one that embraces the minimal use of video game iconography in favor of a visual style that commits to some of the movements and works of gaming, both in regards to contemporary high definition game, as well as in relation to the pixelated simplicity of games from eras far gone.  I am certainly within the latter camp, in that I found its visual offering quite easy to embrace and was actually worried that the film would spend far too much time clinging to video game references, yet under the direction of Rich Moore, whose involvement with work like Futurama clearly shows through, as the references, like those in the show about a nineties guy living in the future, serves as a means to an end.  Every use of Q*Bert or Pac-Man exist as a means to compile a narrative and the film, instead creates its own set of excellent fictional characters to fill the world, in fact, the one classic character who seems to get more screen time than any other appears to be Zangeif of Street Fighter fame and to be honest, in that situation doesn't everybody win?  Wreck-It Ralph is an absolutely funny film, perfectly navigating the line between children and adult humor, often coexisting within the same scenes and it does not take a detailed understanding of the history of video games to really appreciate this film, although the film certainly provides some moments of reference that are so very obscure that even the most versed of fan boys will find themselves jogging their memory of the classics.

Wreck-It Ralph focuses on the title character of Ralph (John C. Reilly) a bad guy in the world of arcade games, something he is coming to despise that it means he must live in the world of bad guy land, or in his case in a brick dump right outside of his game space.  The game he exists within is occupied by the hero Fix It Felix, Jr. (Jack McBrayer) for which the game shares the same name, and Felix, Jr. is the heralded champion of their space, considering that it is often he who saves the penthouse that Ralph destroys.  Even though the space clearly designates between good and evil, Ralph often travels outside of his game to the game center to hang out with fellow bad guys in Bad-Anon meetings, where he attempts to come to grips with his badness.  Yet, Ralph simply wants to obtain a gold medal and be appreciated and when he is not acknowledged on the thirtieth anniversary of the game he ends up "going Turbo" a phrase designated for a former racing game character who became jealous of the success of another game, leading to his moving to that game and subsequently destroying its space.  Ralph's movement through the other game spaces is in no way malicious and he simply desires to obtain an icon of success, actually winning a gold medal in the game Hero's Duty, much to the frustration of its lead character Calhoun (Jane Lynch).  Yet during his existence in the space of this game, he brings along a bug that transfers to his next game space Sugar Rush threatening to infiltrate the sugar pop world and destroy its very core, of course Ralph is oblivious to this all despite being chased by both Calhoun and Felix, Jr. at this point.  During his movement through Sugar Rush he meets up with Penelope (Sarah Silverman) a wily and bratty girl who desires to be a racer in the world, despite being a glitch within the game, something that causes her to be a point of condemnation within the world, particularly in the eyes of world's leader King Candy (Alan Tudyk).  From here on the narrative centers on both Ralph and Penelope as they push towards proving that they are certainly more than their coded identities, something that takes a considerable amount of drive and determination, as well as some confrontation with the very fabrication of the game spaces in which they exist, something they realize has been tampered with far before their arrival.  Needless to say things are returned to order, Ralph embraces his identity as a bad guy, while Penelope learns to adapt her glitch to the game.   For extra kicks, Calhoun and Felix, Jr. even get married.

One can certainly create a quarrel over the positive or negative themes spouted within this film, after all it is a Disney offering and, unlike the previously reviewed Frankenweenie, it is not afforded the artistic reigns of a Tim Burton and must adhere to certain ideologies.  With that being said, I would argue that Wreck-It Ralph is easily the most scathing critique of blind capitalist ambition since Wall-E, while also being extremely concerned with adhering to conformity, something more in line with the Disney films of yore.  I will say this about Wreck-It Ralph, overlooking the other two themes, I would instead focus on its concern for the nature of relevance and staying fresh as it relates to society.  In fact, it is as much a narrative about the woes of growing old as it is anything else.  Much of Ralph's woes come from him not receive appreciation for his job, but that could certainly double as regret for being stuck in the same place for way longer than he planed, a metaphor for the dead end job mentality perhaps, or take Felix, Jr. whose name suggests his own existence within a lineage, something that he, at first, does not outright reject, but upon his meeting of Calhoun he certainly changes his tune ever so slightly.  Even Calhoun has her issues, especially considering that she has lost her fiancé in the past to the creatures of a game which she can never leave.  Even the arcade itself plays into this metaphor (perhaps this film is more meta than I suggested) in that the aging Mr. Litwak (Ed O'Neil) clearly moves with a blasé attitude through is flailing arcade, knowing it is only a matter of time before it is financially illogical to stay open, considering that attendance has dwindled, which is quite a true statement if anybody has seen an arcade as of late, let alone one in operation.  The narrative then rests almost entirely in Penelope who desires nothing more than to exist in the moment and race, she is not only oblivious to the woes of aging or staying important, but almost transcends them, this helps contextualize her glitching as an act of almost nirvana in that she is clearly able to detach herself from the constraints of temporal and spatial existence for her benefit, and, in the end, the benefit of the entirety of the arcade.  The narrative cleverly embraces an idea of continued relevance through incorporation of the past into the present, an acknowledgement of the retro is a term the film uses.  It is clever considering that Disney created this film and at this point they seem to own everything for every persons' childhood (the metaness of this film only grows).

Key Scene:  The Bad-Anon meetings are quite hilarious and only one of the many genuine laughs within the film.

This is still in theaters and certainly benefits from being on the big screen, I suggest taking along somebody of a varied age as it helps to pick up on many of the multiple facets to this complex film, also the animated short at the beginning is quite beautiful.

Your Dog Is Alive!: Frankenweenie (2012)

As I get closer to compiling the ever important best films of last year list (at least in my head I have blown it to such proportions) I considered creating a tie at number ten for Django Unchained and Moonrise Kingdom, two solid films by well-established directors that were not their greatest work, but managed to prove quite decent...and then I saw Frankenweenie.  Now I am quite aware that Tim Burton is tied to Dark Shadows, for which I have not seen, but have, nonetheless heard to be quite bad.  I say that this changed my opinion of Django Unchained and Moonrise Kingdom only because while those films were good they failed to depict either Tarantino or Anderson taking any serious leaps as directors.  What viewers are provided with in regards to Frankenweenie is a film in which a director has clearly chosen to create something fresh, new and has certainly attempted to expand artistically.  Frankenweenie is, of course, a visual masterpiece, something that is often assumed with the work of Burton and its clear homage to the classic era of monster movies is much welcomed by myself and from what I have been able to glean, pretty much anyone else either old enough or film literate enough to appreciate the references.  However, the visual elements are only a minor factor in the larger magic of Burton's pseudo-remake of a short film from earlier in his career.  It is much more than the story of attempting to reattain a dead animal and becomes a deeply sobering consideration of the larger concept of loss, as well as a fitting comfortably within a world of ill-fitting conformities.  The film demands that viewers consider their own implications within a society of oppression and condemnation for anything even remotely unconventional, while also challenging the notion that to question anything is to inherently desire an undermining of systematic order.  Also, the very adult nature of the images, as well as the themes, makes one consider its category as a Disney film, particularly an animated one at that.  In fact, if it were not for the existence of The Straight Story within their production collection, I would outright call this the biggest surprise in regards to Disney films to date.

Frankenweenie focuses on the aptly named young Victor Frankenstein (Charlie Tahan) whose desire to make homemade sic-fi movies on his low budget camera that star his dog Sparky seems to be more than enough to make his life happy, even though is parents seem somewhat concerned about his rather introverted lifestyle.  Victor lives within the town of New Holland which is overseen by the rather cantankerous and fear-mongering Mr. Burgemeister (Martin Short) whose hopes for New Holland being a land of ideal living are forced upon the community as well as his niece Elsa Van Helsing (Winona Ryder) who attempts to befriend Victor on multiple occasions.  During one of his days at school, Victor becomes fascinated with the possibility of winning his school science fair supervised by the ghastly Mr. Rzykruski, for whom Victor has taken a liking.  Victor's dad, also voiced by Martin Short, encourages his interest in the sciences, but also suggests that the young boy attempt sports as a means of making new friends and rounding himself out.  It is during his first game that Victor finds success hitting a ball out of the park, yet when Sparky chases after the ball gleefully he becomes victim to an car accident, dying on the spot.  Victor, is understandably devastated by the occurrence and takes to living as a hermit yet again, until he learns about the power of electricity to revive the muscles in a dead being.  Creating his own traditional Frankenstein experiment on Sparky, Victor is able to successfully revive his dead dog, although the bizarre nature of such an act forces him to sequester the happy pup into hiding, leading to suspicion from his classmates, parents and Elsa who desperately attempts to gain his attention.  A young boy named Edgar "E" Gore (Atticus Shaffer) learns of Victor's secret and exploits him in order to gain information for his own science project, leading to larger suspicions on the part of the youth in the community, eventually resulting in their own bizarre science experiments that, ultimately, lead to giant turtles, mutated sea monkeys and vampire cats roaming the town of New Holland, much to the frustration of Mr. Burgemeister.  Victor is required to put his scientific brain to the test in reversing all the experiments, eventually leading to an intense final climax at the towns windmill, which is now in flames and he learns a larger lesson on sacrifice from Sparky in the process.

This film is a veritable prose poem on the nature of loss both in terms of innocence and a close intimate connection.  While it does not outright say it and I have not done any researrch to verify it, I would imagine that the concept for this story came from a very personal part of Burton's soul as the means by which he depicts losing a childhood pet is quite accurate.  I never personally lost a dog, but I know the devastation of losing a cat at a very young age, something that is often a child's first experience with death.  The second element of this narrative seems to suggest a passion for refusing to give up on anything you love, even if that thing changes, sure this is evidenced in Victor's desire to bring Sparky back to live, but it also rings true in his quest for scientific truth.  As Mr. Rzykruski reminds him, no truth can occur in science without a person truly loving the experiment with which they are engaged.  The town of course is entirely opposed to this concept as they see it as a cause in one local boy being injured, although the narrative seems quite intent on suggesting it a result of some rather direct bullying.  Victor's parents are certainly loving towards the troubled youth, but even their liberal and progressive mindset proves challenged when they are asked to not only go against an entire anti-science community, but also accept that their son has brought an inanimate object back to life and expects it to be treated like part of the family.  Burton's choice to set the film within a clearly fifties setting, while also making it a contemporary dialogue is likely intended to cause viewers to consider their separation from the fear and blindness of Cold War America, something that the various monster movies referenced within the film reinforce beautifully.  I cannot begin to list the other commentaries existing within this film as they are both broad and specific to scenes, suffice to say this is the single best thing offered by a Disney subsidiary since Up and reminds me that there is a clear division between this and some of the conservative oriented crap they tend to release.

Key Scene:  The introduction of the various science experiement monsters will make any lover of old sci-fi/horror movies gush with enjoyment.

Buy this bluray, I certainly intend to at some point, even if it does have a bit of a hefty price tag.  Until its release date I would suggest renting it from a Redbox.

I'm An Apex Predator: Chronicle (2012)

I am constantly in the favor of the found footage genre, as has been proven through many reviews on this blog, beginning with my surprised fondness of the Paranormal Activity film, and more recently considering one of the breakout films of 2012 in V/H/S, in fact, between a hopefully final fourth installment to the Paranormal Activity franchise, along with the other previously mentioned film it was already a highly touted year for the found footage film, add the surprisingly watchable and incredibly bold Chronicle to the mix and you do indeed having something decidedly revolutionary within the genre, begging for a push towards something grander, more artistic, but still considerably underacted. Hell, I have yet to see End of Watch and while it has not received rave reviews it sounds as though it is worth checking out and certainly not void of value, especially when considering that it incorporates a rather strict use of the found footage mentality.  While the story within Chronicle is admittedly forced and somewhat overembelished, especially in the closing scenes which are the best portion of the film, despite technically breaking the found footage barrier for a couple of shots, it is something quite enjoyable to watch.  Josh Trank makes the use of CGI, heavy special effects and clever camera tricks seem quite well-integrated and demands that the unique and often mocked genre possess some degree of respectability, even, I dare say, artistic credibility.  One could certainly make the argument when it comes to Chronicle, as a good portion of the scenes seem more appropriate for a experimental art house film than what is essentially a deconstructionists consideration of the superhero film.  Trank really does something special by making both the characters and the camera they use a thing to move through and around the space, considering the supernatural as a thing experience both within the filmic space as well as, I  would argue, transcendent of it, especially relating to the way the camera is decidedly fixated on one character's experiences, even when he is removed from the control of its movement.

Chronicle begins with an introduction to Andrew Detmer (Dane DeHaan) a social pariah of sorts who figures that the best means for dealing with his abusive father and deathly ill mother is to take up a video chronicle of his life, one that is all but hopeful, as it becomes apparent that besides being quite downtrodden by his home life, Andrew is also victim to constant bullying and degradation at school.  In fact, were it not for his loose relationship with his cousin Matt Garetty (Alex Russell), Andrew would be entirely void of any quantifiable friendships.  During a party one night, in which Matt invites Andrew in hopes of breaking him out of his shell Andrew ends up being victim to yet another bout of bullying at the hands of an individual who assumes his videotaping to be some sort of voyeuristic perversion.  Awaking from being knocked unconscious Matt and his friend Steve Montgomery (Michael B. Jordan) demand that Andrew brings his camera to an underground passage where they discover some bizarre crystal formation that glows a variety of different colors.  During this moment, the crystal explodes in some bizarre light formation blowing the trio away onto the ground and the tape then cuts to the group experimenting with new powers that allow them to apparently telekinetically control the objects around them.  Reveling in their enjoyment it becomes obvious that the powers can have positive and negative consequences, whether it be to boost their sex lives, or to cause a belligerent driver to go veering off the road into a lake.  In hopes that they can keep their new powers a secret and avoid any conflict, Matt suggests making rules against using the powers on people, and certainly demands that they do not use them when angry.  Yet, Andrew whose powers do not equate to an increase in social status begins using his telekenisis against bullies and even his own father, and act that leads to accidentally killing Steve.  In a moment of last ditch desperation attempts to use them to rob a convenience store, only to cause a shotgun to accidentally blow up a propane tank, landing the angry Andrew in the hospital.  It is here that his father berates him again, only this time Andrew's rage explodes into an uncontrollable mess and Matt attempts to stop him, leading to a rather intense telekinetic shootout through the skies of Seattle.  Matt realizes that it is necessary to kill Andrew in order to save the entire city, doing so defeated and saddened, although in a touching final scene, Matt travels to a place where the trio agreed to go with their new powers, asking for his deceased cousins forgiveness and understanding.

Chronicle, like so many movies I have reviewed recently appears to be a multitude of things, perhaps a commentary on mental handicap and learning to embrace it within an individual, or even a statement about youth and their attachment to a technological world.  Hell, it is even on a very basic level a run-of-the-mill high school coming of age story, yet what I cannot stop considering is the manner in which the film clearly fixates itself on the woes of bullying and understanding the effects such ignorant behavior can have on an individual and the way in which they engage with the world around them.  It is a pertinent topic for this year and one that clearly needs to always be considered within films marketed at this age group, it was not but about a half a year ago that a college student took his life after discovering that his roommate videotaped him engaging in intercourse with a partner of the same sex, ultimately, shaming him in the process.  It is no doubt that the degree of bullying occurring within Chronicle has a certain amount of heightened intensity to it, after all, it is a piece of action cinema, but one cannot ignore the lack of parental figures around the school to take a strict stance against such actions, not to mention the complete nonexistence of a welcoming environment for Andrew outside of the public space.  In fact, one must note that it is not until he is literally able to fly away from his problems that he claims to be enjoying his life, yet as the narrative suggests, even these moments of escapism do not mean complete removal from his very grounded and very real issues, many of which center on his own internalized failures as a masculine figure.  Certainly, it is during a party in which he fails to consummate a sexual act that even Steve and Matt criticize him, undoubtedly, leading to his downfall and breaking off from any sort of sane connection to the world.  While the narrative could certainly have ended with Andrew taking his own life or something in that vein, it chooses another equally viable outcome, the enacted social rage against those in the world around him.  Andrew attacks everything, because in his bullied eyes everything is his enemy and it is really hard not to say that the individuals involved did not have it coming.  It is a film that severely critiques unbridled othering and degrading of individuals, calling for an embracing of those even the most wildly different in society.  A pertinent film now, but hopefully not forever.

Key Scene:  While the closing battle does technically break from the found footage tradition momentarily, it manages to stay true to it to a considerable degree and makes for solid fifteen minutes in which my eyes never left the screen.

If you love found footage films this is certainly a new level stylistically and is something of considerable notoriety.  I would suggest snagging the gorgeous looking bluray if you have the finances.

We Cant Leave Without Saying Goodnight: Pitch Black (2000)

Words that I never thought would be uttered on my blog are about to be written into the proverbial stone that is the internet.  I have found a movie in which Vin Diesel out acts the rest of the performers in a film.  In many a Diesel driven film he either plays a lesser character to established actors, as is the case with something like Saving Private Ryan or he ends up just being yet another terrible performance in a even worse film, as has proved true in the Fast and Furious franchise.  However, it is hard to deny that 2000's Pitch Black is very much helmed by the performance and precision of Diesel playing a convict who is forced, rather unwillingly, into a position of authority and leadership due to a trait his character possesses.  Vin Diesel embraces this place in the film with zeal and just enough of a suaveness that it manages to work and even the ridiculous nature of his character within a larger science fiction plot manages to work wonders.  Cinematically speaking Pitch Black is a flawless movie, it employs a great brilliance of traditional camera tricks, post production magic and a load of justified CGI to create a new planet within a galaxy, although the characters within the narrative clearly reflect our global ideals circa 2000, the extra terrestrial nature of the work manages to center the social commentary in something more transcendent.  Furthermore, the work contains a some what positive depiction of an Arabic character, however, I need only draw your attention to the year in which the film was released as a means to help explain why this portrayal was approved in the first place.  I know including Pitch Black on the blog this month seems a bit of a stretch, however, I stand firmly in it entrenching itself to some degree or another within the horror genre, particularly in that the narratives main point of progression centers around a group of people surviving through a pack  of monsters attacking them during nightfall, the only thing making it non-traditional in its horror leanings is that it is set on another planet, were it the same concept set in suburban America its place in the genre would not only be unquestioned but understood as certain.

Pitch Black begins with a space freighter of sorts traveling through the depths of the galaxies, as the voice of Riddick (Vin Diesel) explains that he is a prisoner placed in confines on a ship carrying civilians, a choice he thinks to be terrible considering that the lengthy trip could prove dire at any moment, a prophecy that soon comes true when some sort of meteor materials pierce the hull and begin destroying the ship and causing it to spiral downward towards a unknown planet.  The captain dies during the crash leaving Carolyn (Radha Mitchell) unwillingly in charge of the group, which includes the ever divisive shipmate and cop William (Cole Hauser), a Arabic priest aptly named Imam, played by Keith David who would have got my vote for best actor in the film were it not for his constant moves in and out of an accent.  Along with this group are a antiquities dealer, a few archaeologists and a young androgynous person who takes a quick liking to Riddick. When they emerge onto the bright planet the party realizes that the world they now inhabit does not follow the celestial rules of Earth, instead having at least three identifiable suns.  Tensions rise as the group navigates the new space, particularly when it becomes apparent the Riddick's help is necessary to escape the sand trap that is the planet, only worsened by William's refusal to grant the prisoner any sort of breaks, his motives are later revealed when viewers discover that he is indeed a bounty hunter and not a cop as he claimed.  When night falls it the group realizes why the planet is uninhabited, because the area is lurking with boney alien bat creatures that crave destruction and seek out the group with much zeal.  Eventually going underground with lanterns after discovering that the aliens are destroyed by sunlight, at this point the group severely splinters over what role Riddick will play upon reaching a supply ship that they intend to take to get off the planet, eventually leading to the death of William.  Riddick and others do make it to the ship, but must fend off many more of the creatures before leaving the planet a task that comes with a new set of dangers.

Pitch Black, like many a film centering on the experiences of inmates tend to do, studies the line between good and evil, as well as lawfulness and ethical forgiveness.  Similar to Luke in the film Cool Hand Luke, Riddick has a certain suaveness and hipness to his actions, often spouting poetic one liners to those who condemn them and even engaging in purposefully humorous moments, as is the case when the camera zooms in on him lounging under an umbrella while the group fearfully looks for him. In contrast, we are provided with William who is a drug fueled bounty hunter whose southern accent and dismissive attitude to Riddick help to assure that the already on-the-nose slavery commentary is not completely overlooked.  We are also, as viewers, led to believe that the murders in which Riddick partook were a matter of self-defense and necessity and that overall he lacks a genuine desire to hurt people.  In fact, compared to the self-serving attitudes of some of the characters in the film, including Carolyn who grapples with her own self-worth in relation to a group of unknown persons, Riddick seems rather saintly, certainly his ethereal, almost angelic presence is intensified by his glowing eyes.  However, that is not to say that the criminal is not void of is own faults, in some of the closing moments Riddick does indeed falter in face of his own survival, realizing that if he concedes to returning for the other members of the party he will voluntarily provide witnesses to his whereabouts and existence.  However, the higher good prevails in Riddick and he returns for the group, unlike Carolyn whose initial attempt to dismiss the group to death is inevitably and tragically punished as her and Riddick finally share an understanding embrace.

Key Scene:  The moments we are afforded Riddick's vision are a bit of a cinematic treat in their technological newness, as well as their hearkening back to sic-fi classics of the 60's and 70's.

Pitch Black is a movie I enjoyed much more than I anticipated, however, I can see it being less exciting to many others and as such only suggest renting it.

History Prefers Legends To Men: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (2012)

For the remainder of October I am going to focus my blog in a slightly different direction and jump on the blogosphere bandwagon of blogging about horror movies specifically.  I plan to, or at least hope to, run through a slew of different horror films from genre hybrids, to country variations and hopefully a few historically important ones as well.  I plan to even revisit a few of my personal favorites with the hopes of reflecting on my love of them in written form.  Ideally, my reflections will cover films that you as readers as heard of, but touch upon a few that are not familiar to mainstream audiences, and who knows maybe a few of the films I plan to focus on will have even myself reconsidering what I include in a horror oeuvre.  As always, I am fully open to suggestions for viewings and hope to blog about a film each day through the actual celebration of All Hallow's Eve.  This focus will maybe even help flesh out some research projects as I begin to draw connections of theory and criticism through various films, as well as serving as a means to see a few more horror films in theatre, a specific genre that I feel strongly benefits from big screen treatment.  With all this being said, I begin my October Horror Blog Wonder Extravaganza with a solid bit of absurdly terrible post-modern horror with Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.  I went into this film knowing full and well that it would be quite terrible and those in the theater with me clearly shared my views as they laughed at the films genuine attempts to be a bad-ass appropriation of a honored historical figure.  However, I did not expect some of the liberties taken by the writer and director about comparisons of slavery to evil creatures to be quite so problematic, but then again from Hollywood it should not have come as a surprise.

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter for those inept at reading context clues, is about an alternative history in which America's sixteenth president Abraham Lincoln (Benjamin Walker) undertakes the job of being a vampire hunter, as a means to revenge the death of his mother at the hands of the monsters of the night.  To some extent this job is thrust upon him by an expert vampire hunter named Henry Sturges (Dominic Cooper) who engages in the act, as a means of revenge himself.  Lincoln must keep this act of hunting vampires a secret as he engages with other notable historical figures, whether it be his historical friend Joshua Speed (Jimmi Simpson) or Mary Todd (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), as well as one Stephen Douglass (Alan Tudyk) and Jefferson Davis (John Rothman) whom the film cast in the light of being similar to the vampires.  As Lincoln struggles with the question of slavery and an imminent war, his engagement with vampire hunting comes to the fore front after he confronts the lead vampire Adam (Rufus Sewell) only to fail to defeat him initially.  In a purely Hollywood move the final confrontations lay upon the battlefields of the Civil War, most notably that of Gettysburg, in which Lincoln requires that all silver be move to the battle front to help kill the vampires who have become soldiers for the Confederate Army.  This is where history coalesces, and the North wins, slaying the vampires in the process, Lincoln delivers his famous Gettysburg Address, but in this filmic narrative it has a edge towards condemning the vampires as well.  The film then fast forwards to present day where we are shown a man of African-American descent sitting at a bar being approached by Henry to become a vampire hunter for a new age...

If that closing scene does not prove problematic there are certainly a list of other problems in the "message" of this film.  First off, like Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds, AL: VH takes liberties to condemn the entire south as evil, going so far as to suggest that the vampires are fully responsible for the trading and abusing of slaves.  This action results in dismissing the true scar on American history by suggesting that it was enacted by some demonic force.  Similarly, the film suggests that at some point during the war the entire Confederate army was that of vampires making their being killed a moment of glorious celebration, at least that was the case in the theater where I viewed the film.  I had trouble with this scene specifically, partially because it was just ungrounded cinematic bloodshed, but also because it  dehumanizes the deaths of soldiers in America's bloodiest war, which indeed witnessed a very real amount of human bloodshed.  Finally, the gumption of the film's director to reconsider such important speech as Lincoln's Gettysburg Address as a means to condemn vampires, or that Jefferson Davis himself dealt with the dark lords, is in bad taste.  Such scenes could have proved as a means to get viewers not familiar with historical rhetoric to truly consider that ethical problems of slavery and human oppression, but instead it just serves as a stepping stone for another set of stylized vampire killings.  Finally, regardless of political leanings the blatant connection between Lincoln and Obama in the films closing shot is egregiously problematic.  

Key Scene: The stampede battle is quite well-crafted and paced ending in a explosive manner that was deserved of the applause it received.

To dismiss this movie completely would be incredibly unfair, however, one must take it very critically to realize the problems the rethinking of a troublesome portion of American history visits.  It is not intended to be a political commentary, but an argument could be made that the film does not do enough to deter the possibility for interpretations.

I Can Control When It Grows: Big Man Japan (2007)

The monster movie is surely a staple of Japanese cinema, makings its glorious emergence with Godzilla.  Sure, King Kong came before and Cloverfield has proved successful, but nobody makes these hybrid horror/social drama's quite like Japan, and Hitoshi Matsumoto's Big Man Japan is certainly indicative of this.  Combining a mockumentary style with glorious CGI, the film becomes both a fun viewing and a contemplative film on the tragedies of aging in a society that values freshness and spontaneity.  Big Man Japan is neither a high-brow art house endeavor, nor is it a low culture schlockfest.  Instead, it is an earnest look at one man's struggle for meaning as he realizes the world around him is decaying and that all things he and those around him once valued have become consumed by media and its capitalist tendencies.  The film is certainly unique in its composition and questions what role viewers have in a situation and to what extent a filmmaker can claim poetic license when creating a work.  Having recently finished a book on Japanese cinema, it is interesting to consider that so much of the film is preoccupied with tradition, yet manages to undermine such things as frequently as possible.  Big Man Japan is so bizarrely different simply because it refuses to adhere to any singular definition.

Big Man Japan, in documentary format, follows Masaru Daisato, played by the director, a man who is better known as the title character.  His duty is to defend Japan from various monsters that appear at random throughout different cities.  Although he is always victorious, Masaru has become disliked by citizens for his continued destruction and decaying strength.  Persons in the community have gone so far as to throw rocks in his windows and vandalize his house in protest, particularly his consumption of electricity, which he uses to power up.  Masaru is clearly affected by such ridicule and is shown living a hermetic and desultory lifestyle far distanced from everyone, with the exception of his manager Kobori (Ua).  Kobori clearly has personal interests in mind considering that she uses Masaru's giant form as a means to advertise for various companies via tattoos, which are always colorful and counterproductive to intimidating Big Man Japan's foes.  His foes throughout the film range from a clearly Freudian one-eyed giant monster to a one-legged monster that jumps around like a child.  Masaru is even forced to fight two monsters that are far more concerned with intercourse than defeating him.  Things are going rather lackadaisically until a red demon monster randomly attacks Masaru causing viewers to take a new interest in his bouts.  Despite clearly having no interest in fighting this demon, Masaru ends up engaging in the fight and getting severely beaten.  At this point in the film, a screen is displayed that states that the film will now go to real footage of the bout, which is nothing of that nature and is more in line with low-budget monster shows that would be displayed on televisions in Japan.  Confused Masaru is saved by a group of costumed blonde fighters known collectively as Super Justice.  After the group obliterates the demon they fly away with Masaru in tow.  The film ends and the credits depict Masaru joining with Super Justice as they reflect on the fight, while ridiculing Masaru for his cowardly nature.

The film is loaded with a variety of commentaries and is ripe with possible criticisms; however, the most apparent upon this viewing was a focus on inner turmoil and a desire for redemption.  Masaru, as the film notes, comes from a long line of Big Man Japan's, he being the fourth in the lineage.  It is clear that he is nowhere near as loved as his grandfather and has no relationship with his father, considering that he died relatively young from electrocution.  It clearly plagues Masaru, as he repeats on countless times throughout the film that he longs for a return to simpler times in Japan, times in which he would be seen as heroic as opposed to being an outdated oaf.  In fact, Masaru's only friend appears to be an aging karaoke club owner, who seems only to love him out of pity.  Similarly, Masaru is dealing with being employed to a job that is considered wrongful in some individual's eyes.  What he does destory cities, but as he argues it is a necessity.  The turmoil caused by such a dilemma is clear and only further perpetuated by the fact that Masaru is scraping by and is by no means wealthy.  These things combined, help to explain the emergence of a demon within the narrative and to some extent some of the monsters he face, particularly the one that is nothing more than a small child.  Masaru is unable to defeat that red demon because he is ill-equipped to fight it.  Metaphorically speaking he is incapable of dealing with his own depression and thus his personal demons.  The film is clever in its answer to dealing with depression in that it provides us with an absurdist answer.  It is clear that Matsumoto understands that each persons turmoil must be dealt with differently and by ending the film in such a way only suggest the benefits of laughter.  At the end of the film, Masaru is shown engaged with people who at the very least tolerate him, something that was a far cry from his previous lifestyle.  It is clear too that the film promotes the necessity of a welcoming environment to a person and their stability.

Big Man Japan is extraordinary in every sense of the word.  If you even like Japanese film or monster films in the slightest, this is a necessary film to own.