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.

This Isn't Sorcery, This Is Torture: Kill Baby, Kill (1966)

There may be nothing worse in regards to film viewing then committing to a movie that is almost good, but in the end falls short and proves to be absolutely average.  While it may be a reactionary element on my part to the particular stylings of filmmakers like Dario Argento, Jean Rollin and in the case of Kill Baby, Kill director Mario Bava I feel as though the film in question is almost on tap to something excellent but manages to be to preoccupied with narrative closure and normalcy to commit to its zany direction.  I am also aware that I am watching this film with dubbing, which can prove grating in the case of a film that is not necessarily aided by absurdly terrible translations and delivery.  Kill Baby, Kill is a solid film and it has many shining moments, particularly a handful of experimental shots that would suggest a brilliant idea under the surface of vain concerns for attractive people with paranormal problems.  I will admit openly that I am quite unaware of Bava's process as a filmmaker, but the film seriously wreaks of being tampered with, in so much as it has some rather jarring and enjoyable breaks form linear narrative, only to continually resituate itself within the traditional filmic structure, most times with no explanation as to why.  It is one thing for me to engage with a film that purposefully avoids providing characters with names, but it is entirely another matter when I am rather certain that I am being told characters names repeatedly, but have little memory of what they might be scenes later.  Hell, I recently went on a tequila fueled night of Spanish films and undertook watching a Santo film only to be disappointed to discover that it had no subtitles, nor did it possess dubbing.  That being said, I continued to watch the film and managed to glean a plot to some degree, although to be fair it could have just been some elaborate fever dream brought on by the aforementioned tequila.  I offer this aside only to say this about Kill Baby, Kill, I thoroughly enjoyed it as a film and understand that many of its faults are indicative of its era and technological restraints, but there is absolutely nothing more frustrating than seeing moments of genius sandwiched in the middle of a subpar filmmaking.  I would equate it to placing delicious savory brie in the middle of dollar store slices of bread, if that is your course of action it is better just to eat the cheese on its own, much like this would have been a far better film it were just a set of experimental flairs detached from an attempt at cohesive narrative.


I will attempt to hash out some degree of plot from a film that is surprisingly assured that it has a direct plot.  Viewers are introduced to some dark decaying Victorian world in which a woman appears to be nonsensically running about a mansion, only to catch sight of an incredibly sharp spike on a gate.  Upon seeing this she jumps to her death, impaling herself.  This action leads to the county coroner arriving, one Dr. Eswai (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart), only to discover that the town is incredibly unreceptive to his presence, existing instead in an outdated frame of mind that values sorcery and witchcraft over any degree of scientific truth.  This situation makes it insanely difficult for Eswai to get information or make a case for what he assumes to be murders.  As his movement through the area increases he becomes aware of many inexplicable deaths, mostly women, who lose large amounts of blood in the process.  The supernatural activities of the town, Eswai discovers are enacted to counter the demonic spells of Baroness Graps (Giovanna Galletti).  At this point, Eswai becomes incredibly confused as to what the truth of the matter is as it relates to the village, finding no aid when navigating between talismans and scientific truth, yet as more of his friends and trusted colleagues die, Eswai realizes that time is very much lacking and confronts Graps, only to discover that she has enacted such spells as a form of retribution against the town whose drunken oversights resulted in the death of her daughter, who was trampled by horses and slowly bled to death.  Graps believes that her daughters painful death is now the onus of the entire village, create a cycle of death as a means to assure revenge. Yet, Graps is also baffled when she realizes that her daughters spirit also navigates the spaces of the town exacting her own revenge, masked in eerie playfulness.  Fortunately, Eswai realizes the complexities of the situation at the last possible moment and saves his love interest while also assuring the destruction of Graps, although at the hands of another woman whose story is also seemingly important.

Cyclicality in film is not a terrible thing, in fact, it is a necessity in time travel films, and work quite nicely in the recent Men in Black III, however, it can be a bit frustrating when a film wants to offer this great non-linear focus on a cycle of issues, only to go about it in a terribly straightforward manner.  This, again, is my problem with Kill Baby, Kill, it is a narrative of a straight line, whose moments of experimentation seem like hiccups on a seismology reading.  The reminder that a good being is navigating the filmic space results in a narrative where sparks of zeal and camerawork that move through the environment as though they were their own character are ultimately lost, because they, aside from looking stellar, seem to have little affect on the narrative.  Earlier today, I listened to some of a podcasts from the excellent show Filmspotting, and they were making a less harsh criticism of Rami's initial Evil Dead film, suggesting that his use of bizarre camera work occasionally draws in viewers about their relationship with a horror occurring, particularly question within what sort of temporal and spatial world a paranormal narrative can exist.  Again think of the ways the Paranormal Activity franchise managed to challenge how viewers understand a linear horror film narrative, I know I am amongst a minor group of defenders for the films, but they really did revitalize how horror exists, and have for the worst created a set of offsprings that seem to betray the original, much in the ways that Kill Baby, Kill does with non-linear narrative.  Bava's work seems so intent on being surrealistic that when it does have the moments of such a degree of insanity they seem to be secondary to a lackluster plot.  I know that this film predates the original The Wicker Man by quite a few years, but it is clear that the sort of paranormal space created within that latter, is realized from the opening moments of the film, as opposed to be something that comes and goes at the whim of narrative normalcy.

Key Scene:  P.O.V swingset shot.

This is not a terrible film, but it is really damn frustrating.  I want it to be something it is not and I realize much of this is my own problem. With that in mind watch it instantly on Netflix and feel free to tell me that I am completely misreading the film, it is quite possibly the truth.

It's A Call For Help Intended As A Private Communique: Zodiac (2007)

In the past few years Mad Men has been given a ton of praise for, amongst other things, its incredible ability to capture the imagery, culture and general state of mind of the era it is depicting, both in the decaying stature of white, male privilege as well as the ever so faint heartbeat of the change that is moments from emerging in America.  David Fincher's criminally underrated Zodiac is certainly a film with a similar attachment to such a style, all be it set a decade later and over a much longer period of time, transition seamlessly and poetically, making even his clear moments of large periods of transition seem effortless and completely within the framework of the lengthy film.  As of late, I find myself bemoaning everything that is associated with Fincher's Fight Club, mostly for its following and fans who believe it to be the sole moment of revolutionary cinema.  I am certainly behind the quality of Fight Club as a film, but much like the blind supporters of the beatniks it has its rather obvious flaws, ones that seem to emerge with age.  Of course, this is not about what will, undoubtedly, prove to be the dynamic directors most well-remembered tim but is, instead; about what might tragically be his most overlooked.  Zodiac is a meticulously designed and deceptively straightforward film, that manages to take one of America's most baffling serial killer cases and turn it into a gripping human drama that is both narratively tight and cinematically profound.  This, of course, is of little surprise, after all, we are talking about a filmmaker who always proves consistent, even when doing something completely out of his comfort zone with The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.  Even his Netflix series House of Cards stands shoulders above most things being circulated in theaters at this very moment.  Much as it seems to be the case with so many of Fincher's films Zodiac demands that its viewers be both fully invested in their characters day to day activities, while also understanding that since they engage with an inherently terrible system that all persons are susceptible to failure, greed and ultimate a brutal downfall, and that doing the right thing is rarely reward, if not outright punished.

Zodiac, as should be little surprise, follows the emergence and tracking down of the infamous Zodiac Killer, who spent a considerable portion of the seventies randomly killing individuals in, and around, the San Francisco Bay Area.  Of course, as is the case with most crime thrillers the killer is only the secondary subject, Zodiac instead focuses on people attempting to solve the puzzle and rather literal enigma that is the killer who called himself Zodiac.  Firstly, there is the established, all be it, cynical  news reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) who sees this case as a means to blast his career to the next level, pulling no punches in his attempts to track down everything he can regarding the case.  Within the same news agency is Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal) whose life as a cartoonist takes a sharp turn when he decides to decode the letter from the Zodiac, an act that leads him to become irreversibly obsessed with the case, skipping work and eventually ignoring his live-in girlfriend and children with the hope of meeting and aiding in the arrest of the killer.  Finally there is the cop assigned to the various Zodiac related deaths, David Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) who realizes that the paperwork and legal expectations of his every action result in it being nearly impossible to ever arrest or come close to the killer, who made quite certain that his tracks were well-covered.  At various points throughout the narrative the three interact, although never simultaneously, in some cases Robert and Paul work together within the confines of their office, while in another situation Robert approaches David after a film screening at a local theater to explain his unusual relationship to the case and while David continues work on the case, it is eventually Robert who takes the reigns on finding the killer, in the process becoming uncertain as to whether it is justice or curiosity that keeps him going.  In the end, enough minor pieces of information assemble to allow Robert to make eye contact with the killer, in a brief but tense moment and the film then cuts to one of the Zodiac Killer's survivors identifying him in a photograph, allowing after nearly a quarter century for the killer to be brought to trial.

Zodiac is a film that is fully aware of its length, never rushing through a scene or overlooking an aspect to assure a comfortable runtime, which is something, unfortunately, that appears to have worked against it in its box office numbers.  I, however, found the film to be excellent and worth every moment invested, I would even go so far as to say that I was a bit upset when the credits did begin to role, because I thoroughly enjoyed its subject matter and execution.  I, however, say all this to consider what is going on within Fincher's relatively calculated and contemplative film.  The answer seems to be rather obvious, it is a film about tracking down a killer who is not only excellent at being elusive, but also seems keenly aware about the general misdirection and time spent organizing and justifying efforts within the police force, which allows for him to enact random murders and various misdirections, all while those chasing him are still getting the go ahead.  This woe of bureaucracy does, however, come with a certain degree of safety.  When David engages in situations with the individual who does prove to be the Zodiac killer he is afforded the comfort of back up and an advantage in the way of guns and safety, where as, when Robert begins his independent investigation he is forced to navigate spaces alone, although in the films most tense seen this loneliness rears its ugly head when Robert comes to encounter a person whose ties to the Zodiac make his every movement worth questioning to the point of paranoia.  So Zodiac seems to suggest that dealing with crime requires a navigation between the protections of bureaucracy, while also remembering that many rules are to be altered as necessary.  Of course, as the narrative also suggests, living in such a liminal world can prove detrimental, at least that appears to have been the case with Paul.  Another layer is of course the notion of time and authority, something that is always working against the characters best interests even in the brief moments of earnest happiness or positive encounters within the film.  Yet it also suggests that with time, all injustice will eventually be reprimanded.

Key Scene:  There are two time transitions in this film one of a tower being built and the other solely using music that are brilliantly jarring and help to yank the viewers back in after long narrative lulls.

This is cinema gold and was long out of print on bluray.  It has recently returned to shelves and is worth grabbing before it witnesses another tragic fate.

I'll Show You The Life Of The Mind: Barton Fink (1991)

I have seen quite a few films involving The Coen brothers, even going so far as to describe No Country for Old Men as an example of the rare perfect movie.  While I am used to their films being incredibly comedic and intensely centered in action heavy moments, Barton Fink provided me with an entirely different viewing experience, that while not the norm for the Coen's certainly proved to be enjoyable and incredibly intense.  Combining some stellar performances by both John Turturro and John Goodman, a film about intelligence, accessibility and the delving of one's psyche into the paranoid evokes the greatest of emotive responses one can imagine while watching a film.  I find this to be one of the most complex and introspective films in the Coen oeuvre and place it second only to A Serious Man in what I would claim to be my favorite film by Joel and Ethan.  Perhaps it is the centralization of character evident in both these works that make me love the films, or the complete lack of concern for spatial formality, but something about the magical realist nightmare evoked in Barton Fink makes for a stellar two hours of film viewing.  While this is somewhat early in the Coen's filmmaking career one can, nonetheless, find moments of their soon to be traditional touches, whether it be cameras focusing on events occurring outside of the room in which events are filmed, or fixation on seemingly arbitrary objects.  I personally could not help but pick up on some clear similarities to the world David Lynch creates in his seminal work Blue Velvet.  Barton Fink is a magnificently realized work that explodes into a much larger film than one will initially expect.  The work considers how we consider factual events in a biased narrative, as well as what role we place on creativity in a writer's output, especially when their work is always influenced by outside forces.  While many a films have been made about making films, I would place Barton Fink in the highest of rungs.

The film centers on a character of the title's sake Barton Fink (John Turturro) a New York based playwright who has found recent success with his gritty and minimalist plays focusing on the common man.  While we are shown him enjoying lavish dinners, he is offered high paying work to write screenplays in Hollywood, an offer he finds slightly offensive and counterproductive to his guttural desires to speak for the working class.  Agreeing as a means to gain money to pay for multiple plays in the future, Barton flies out Hollywood and stays at the surprisingly dilapidated and unoccupied Hotel Earle, with the exception of the the under zealous bellhop Chet (Steve Buscemi).  Once situated in his room, Barton attempts to begin writing a gritty "wrestling picture" only to undertake insufferable writer's block, a problem exacerbated by the distraction of continually peeling wallpaper and the constant interruptions by Charlie Meadows (John Goodman) a talkative, rotund life insurance salesman.  Barton seeks inspiration outside of the hotel, eventually running into a idol writer of his W.P. Mayhew (John Mahoney), who it becomes quite clear has spiraled into alcoholism, much to the disdain of his wife Audrey (Judy Davis), for who Barton begins to take a liking.  Eventually winning over Audrey and earning an extension on his script writing, Barton convinces her to spend time with him, however, upon awaking he realizes she has been inexplicably murdered.  Seeking help from his only friend Charlie, Barton disposes of the body, only to become a key witness in the investigation of Charlie, of who viewers learn is actually "Mad Man" Munch an infamous serial killer.  Needless to say, Barton's daily life becomes absurd all leading to an intense run in with Charlie/Munch that, nonetheless, allows him to burst through his writers block and provide Capitol Studios with a script, one that is instantly despised and leads to his being put on restriction, although he is told to stay in Hollywood as he is still on contract.

One of my favorite elements of Barton Fink are the multiplicities of interpretation allowed for this work.  Of course some of the more obvious interpretations center on the creative process, or class consciousness.  However, it is many of the more obscure yet equally tangible elements of the film that I find intriguing.  It almost has a The Shining element in that one  can pick up various possibilities for commentary.  One element of note is the suggestion of a critique of Fascism within the narrative, particularly in that it represents a clearly Jewish character in Fink avoiding the suppression and attacks of fascist nationalism.  This is overtly emphasized when he is accosted by detectives Mastrionatti and Deutsch whose clear German and Italian ties draw upon Fascism.  Similarly, a reading involving ideas of slavery has emerged, citing the singing of slavery songs and spirituals as an example, although a connection to notions of possessing intellectual property could certainly add some validity to this specified reading.  Finally, and of course most notably is the fact that this could all be an imagined film, which begins with the fact that we are shown moments through the eyes of Barton, especially since it begins with him watching his own play, a fact that is never verified to exist outside his own mind, a quick cutting to a near point of view of him entering into a ritzy restaurant almost solidifies it, if not at the very least helping to rationalize the absurd moments in which he witnesses a hotel become engulfed in flames only to seem fine moments later.  We are never sure what his rejected script consists of, but perhaps that has been what we were shown up until this point, after all there is a wrestling scene between Charlie and Barton that could serve as the inspiration for the script, amidst all its latent homoeroticism.

Key Scene:  For the key scene please refer to the quote in the title of this post.

I watched this on Netflix via Watch Instantly, but was so enamored with it that I intend to purchase a copy and would certainly urge you to do the same, although I would hold out for a bluray release.

There's A Storm Coming Like Nothing You've Ever Seen: Take Shelter (2011)

I really am beginning to regret making my favorite films of 2011 list so early, particularly considering that I had not seen a considerable amount of films that received critical acclaim from the year.  It is likely that films like The Artist, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and even Drive would have replaced some of my choices.  However, I was adamant that no film I watched from last year would be more spectacular and profound than Tree of Life.  This was certainly the case, until I watched Take Shelter.  Without a doubt, this Jeff Nichols film about paranoia and the decaying of the family unit within rural America is one of the best films of the past decade and contains what may very well be the best ensemble acting performance of last year.  A film like this gives me faith in the possibilities of independent film in the next decade, considering that its budget was nothing compared to a work like Super 8 or Midnight in Paris, yet manages to exude both the thrill of cinema and honesty of good narrative better than both of the previous films combined.  I also mentioned that The Muppets film accrued much of its praise from being an astute observation of the economic woes in The United States, however, its comedic leanings lessen some of its pertinence, where as Take Shelter focuses on the same issues in a grating and inescapable manner, and for that its is also brilliant.

Take Shelter, set in Ohio, the heart of tough living American in the past few years, focuses on the daily interactions of Curtis (Michael Shannon) a working class man struggling to support his loving wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain) and the medical demands of their deaf daughter Hannah (Tova Stewart).  Curtis seems capable of dealing with his heavy demands; until he begins have hallucinatory dreams about an impending storm of yellow water that will leave nothing in its destructive path.  As a result of the paranoia that insues with his dreams, Curtis begins repairing a worn down storm shelter in his backyard, despite the economic demands of such an endeavor.  Initially realizing the absurdity of his actions, Curtis keeps his projects a secret to his wife and friends, only recruiting the help of a co-worker to help build the storm shelter.  As the dreams become more dark and the economic demands become greater, Curtis finally falters and his visions hinder his ability to be productive.  He loses his job and his wife becomes enraged with him and at one point he completely falls apart at a luncheon attacking his former friend and yelling at everyone in the room with a prophetic omen about the impending disaster.  As a result of love, or perhaps fear, Samantha follows Curtis into the shelter on a particularly stormy night and they await a passing storm.  Eventually they leave the shelter to realize that everything is fine and that their world is back to normal.  The family then takes a much needed trip to the beach where, Curtis watches Hannah become preoccupied with a storm brewing across the ocean.  Samantha steps outside and witnesses the storm herself, suggesting that Curtis was indeed right about his fears, or in a more bizarre possibility that the entire family has slipped into a destructive paranoia.

While paranoia certainly influences the narrative of the film, Take Shelter is far more concerned about the effects of the economy on family relationships, particularly when money proves an inescapable burden.  I plan not to elaborate in too great of detail on this because I am going to formulate a paper about this for an academic journal, but I will give a few general commentaries on this notion.  First off, the film inserts various brief scenes about money woes through the film, whether it be the depictions of the family eating the same meals every day, or Curtis' pricey trip to the gas pump.  All these brief additions are intended to set up a monetary demon for the family that is constantly attacking them, only to be worsened by the dangling promise of healing Hannah through a pricey medical procedure.  With these notions in place, the impending storm could represent a variety of ideas whether it be complete bankruptcy or the fears of divorce it is something that could cause a frenzied panic and, furthermore, an anxiety so great that Curtis would need to seek psychiatric advice.  In one of the films more brilliant scenes, Curtis takes his family into the house built within the shelter, one created from using a storage unit as a portable home.  It could be read as creating a sort of new sphere, separate from the private and public, considering that neither has proved beneficial to the family.  However, as the film proves, even this new creation is useless as the "storm" that influences the entire narrative finds new methods to attack Curtis and his family.

Key Scene: The dream sequence between Curtis and Samantha...you will know it when it happens.

Take Shelter is a gem of 2011 that was all but ignored.  Thanks to the excellent podcast Battleship Pretension, I was turned onto this film and I can only further their recommendation and demand that you get a copy on bluray.  It will be worth your time and money.

I'm Not A Psy-cho: I'm A Cyborg But That's Ok (2006)

The continued study of Korean film still amazes me, something I should just start assuming until I see a truly terrible Korean film.  However, my most recent discovery with Chan-wook Park's I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK is certainly the most cinematically enthralling film to date.  The director, more globally known for Oldboy, brings something so vibrant and energetic that I was finding myself thinking the film more of a live action version of Paprika than a piece of dramatic film.  However, despite being rather unusual narratively speaking, Park's film is a serious and captivating love story that unfolds in a bizarre and haphazard fashion pushing my own understanding of what constitutes the genre of romance.  I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK, is, despite its rather sci-fi leaning title is about as real a film as one can ask for, of course it is set within the experiences of a mentally insane individual so our understanding of reality as viewers is somewhat off-kilter.  Park manages to take a very confusing and disorienting state of mind and not only make it approachable, but almost normal.  Simply put, I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK completely undermines everything it can within two solid hours of a visual feast that will lodge itself inextricably within your mind.

As mentioned above, I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK focuses on the experiences of an individual who is mentally unstable, one Young-goon (Su-jeong Lim) a factory worker who believes herself to be a cyborg that requires electricity in order to function.  Her irrational ideology causes her to jam wires into her wrists that result in her being electrocuted.  Baffled by her actions, her mother places her in a mental ward, claiming that she is probably acting in relation to her grandmother who believed herself to be a rabbit.  Her belief, like Young-goon's resulted in her being hospitalized.  While at the mental institute Young-goon meets a bizarre cast of patients that include a man who witnessed an accident he believed to be his fault, which resulted in him being obnoxiously kind, a young woman who believes herself to be training for a Swiss choir despite not possessing the traditional looks of a Swiss girl and one woman who has a penchant for lying incessantly.  Young-goon seems content to ignore the group as a whole until she meets a kleptomaniac named Park Il-sun (Rain) who has the ability to steal other patients' disorders amongst other things.   Although the two have a rocky start, it becomes clear that feelings emerge between the two and they seem destined to unite, until Young-goon stops eating, as she believes she only needs electricity to survive.  Troubled by his inability to help Park panics and acts aggressively, until he comes to the realization that he can convince Young-goon to eat by claiming to have created a device that converts rice into electric energy, a fake device that he cleverly tricks Young-soon into believing has been planted inside by her heart.  Assuming this to be the truth, Young-goon begins eating again and feels revitalized, although she ignorantly believes it is from electricity.  Park, the other patients and the hospitals doctor gladly play along in this ruse, as it assures her well-being and the blossoming of  a relationship between Young-goon and Park.

The love story element of I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK is not necessarily a love story at first sight.  For a better portion of the film, we are led to believe that Young-goon will simply be battling her own decaying sanity in a cinematic color palate to make Almodovar jealous.  However, it changes as one begins to make note of the subtle interactions between Young-goon and Park from the onset.  Park, donning various masks throughout the film, continually makes glances at Young-goon and goes so far as to constantly hover over her in observation, even playing along with her illness to assure her happiness.  In this sense, it is very much a love story in the vein of something like Lars And The Real Girl, in which individuals acknowledge the mental difficulties of another and adhere to their eccentricities with gusto and  care.  However, if one looks at just these elements it would appear as though the film is preoccupied with Park's longing for Young-goon, and as such, it would be a one sided love story.  Yet, Young-goon is not passive in her burgeoning relationship with Park, in fact, clearly taking a pride in him stealing her panties and even beginning to stalk him, although she fails miserably.  Though she pursues him constantly, it is perhaps her willingness to simply listen to Park, who is clearly the rebel of the institution, an act with which seems incredibly unfamiliar.  Director Park does not simply stop here though and makes masterful work of the narrative to assure a slow build to their eventual kiss which is done with sweet care while still adhering to the mental insanity elements of the film world.  In the composition of scenes, I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK is a superior love story and is easily one of my new favorite works in the romance genre and quite possibly one of my favorite Korean films in general.

Netflix has this cerebral gem available via watch instantly, although I plan to obtain a copy on bluray, because it is something visually stellar, although I will have to wait for its price to become a bit more pleasing.

Thanks For The Effort: Ju-on (2002)

In my quest to watch a whole mess of Korean films, I got sidetracked visiting a Japanese horror film.  Of course, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that in my eyes, because I thoroughly enjoy Japanese cinema, and next to Korea, they have been producing some of the best scary movies of the past decade.  Excluding the madness that is Audition, Ju-on is perhaps the most well known film to emerge from Japan's rise in horror popularity, mostly due to its being remade into the American film The Grudge, but also, because of its excellent composition, slow burning suspense and socially aware narrative.  It is perhaps so popular, because it is not necessarily a horror film, as much as a narrative of societal distancing and the general dissonance of Japanese culture as it moved into the 21st century.  Ju-on is incredibly scathing, but a cinematic spectacle that invites reference to all the great Japanese directs, including Kurosawa, Ozu and Suzuki.  However, Takashi Shimuzu's film is its own work that invites a variety of different film criticisms and praises and as noted earlier helped to affect a revolution in horror filmmaking not only in Japan, but on a global scale as well.  While not as universally known as Halloween or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre it, undoubtedly, has the same, if not greater, cultural presence.

Ju-on, as the title suggests, is a film about grudges, particularly those held by a vengeful ghosts.  These ghosts, as the opening sequence of the film implies is that of a young child and his mother, who died at the hands of an abusive and drunk patriarchal figure.  The result is that any person who comes in contact with the house containing the ghosts eventually dies at the hands of either one or both of these spectral beings.  In some cases, the ghost manifests itself as a pale version of the mother and son, other times as a black cat, and in the most disturbing instances as a large smokey projection that only reflects a human in the vaguest of senses.  The people who encounter the grudge ghost often have their own series of problems prior to engaging with the presence of the house.  In once case it is a group of high school girls who dispense their time drinking and slacking off as opposed to pursing academics, another is a security guard who is flippant and unreceptive to the requests of others to investigate issues in a building.  In other cases, the people who encounter the ghost often suffer from their own past failures, as is the case with a cop who was unable to save his family from an attack and thus harbors guilt over the situation.  Ultimately, it suggests that the individuals who encounter Ju-on are to some degree receptive to the ghosts, because of some act or failure to act in their lives up to the point in the film.  In fact, the only person who appears to be unaffected by the actions of the ghosts is a lone social worker Rika Nishina (Megumi Okina) who realizes the tragedy of the two ghosts deaths and makes an effort to console them, with a considerable amount of success.  However, as is the case with most horror films Ju-on ends with an implication that the curse will continue and subsequent sequels have assured this fact.

As I mentioned in the introduction, Ju-on is certainly concerned with issues of societal disconnect within Japan.  Despite the film depicting clear connections between each of the narratives shown, it is clear that their personal experiences are distanced.  The characters who engage with one another are either unreceptive to the individuals around them or completely unaware of their interactions.  This holds true for the young high school girls who are so preoccupied with their own popularity that they care little for the despair, and deepening madness, of their friend or their ultimate demise at the hands of the ghost.  Even the detectives assigned to the case fail to be aware of the overarching issues of the case, and disregard any possibilities of supernatural interference, despite warnings from many individuals within the film.  It is not until they encounter the ghost in person that they realize its validity, tragically, at this point neither are capable of escaping because they are frozen in disbelief and shock.  Rika is the only one who manages to move through this world, but as noted, she was also the single person to notice a picture that implied murder that resulted in suffering souls.  This all comes together as an astute social critique of peoples failures to notice a dissolving social unity in modern Japan.  While it is not particularly easy to pinpoint a result to this decay it is clear that technology and lack of questioning the patriarchy play some role in this problem as both are continually commented on within the film.  If this is indeed the case, it makes Rika's power as a heroine all the more pertinent.

Ju-on is a great movie and incredibly well composed.  If you find yourself with some extra finances snag the DVD, you will not be disappointed. 

Alright! Everyone On Their Heads!: Attack The Gas Station! (1999)

This continued study of New  Korean Cinema only seems to be getting better, particularly with my recent viewing of Kim Sang-Jin's Attack the Gas Station!, a visceral and experimentally shot study of crime and urban life in Korea.  Set in the matter of two nights, the film explodes off the screen with kinetic energy unlike anything I have seen in sometime and is incredibly reminiscent of the works of both Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie.  Geared towards a youth audience Attack the Gas Station! is unapologetic in its narrative and visual leanings, and holds no qualms in showing graphic violence and dropping expletives.  However, where a film like Attack the Gas Station! seems to diverge from the previously mentioned directors in its underlying social commentary and depth of character development.  The film would have been incredibly watchable had the director provided no back story for the main character, but the decision to add such an element makes it a far more enjoyable movie than the reviews I read prior to viewing could have ever hoped to do.  While the copy I viewed suffered from terrible dubbing, the general gritty and violent nature of the film made this fact go away almost instantly and I found myself enthralled with the characters every action, no matter how degrading or socially unacceptable in may have been.  The violence in Attack the Gas Station! is not poetic and it is certainly not meant to be vengeful as has been the case for so many movies I have previously reviewed, it is simply there as a means of entertainment and once a viewer realizes this, they are allowed to let go of serious expectations and enjoy a sporadic and at times zany film.

Attack the Gas Station! follows four young punks who have taken it upon themselves to rob gas stations for their money, however, after a night of success at a particular station they decide to hit up the joint again with the hopes that their revenue will be similar.  However, this is not the case, and in a fit of confusion and rage they decide to manage the gas station themselves and take one hundred percent of the profits.  The gang's leader is No Mark (Lee Sung-Jae) who espouses "speak soft and carry a big stick" mentality that proves perfect for his position as the group clearly obeys his every word.  The group also includes Painter (Yu Ji-Tae) a quiet individual who clearly excels at defacing property.  There is also Rock Star (Kang Sung-Jin)  who is the most flamboyant of the group, with his leather pants and seemingly unending lines of curse words.  Finally, there is Mad Dog (Yu Oh-Sung), a crazed individual, as his name suggests, who has a fight to the death mentality, which is only emphasized by the continual presence of a large wooden stick that he uses as a means of enforcement.  Throughout the night the group, in a rather comedic manner, attempt to maintain the gas station, while both dealing with a diverse group of customers, while also assuring that the employees of the gas station do not escape from captivity.  The groups inability to run the station, leads to disgruntled customers and run-ins with local gang members as well as one delivery boy who is fed up with continually dropping food off to them at various times through the night.  We are led to believe that the group is engaging in such behavior simply as a means to rebel, but as flashbacks for each of the characters suggests, they have come to their situations as a result of outside forces oppressing them in various ways, and the ultimate result is that this lifestyle is the only thing they find success within.  The film ends in a huge fight scene that is tense and thrillling and truly has to be seen to be believed, but as any good film should, the members of the group discover something about themselves that transcends their personal lives.  Each walks away from the mess more mature and ready to integrate their unique lifestyles into more socially acceptable means. 

So, while I am careful to note the simplistic nature of the commentary within the film, I cannot express how well delivered the commentary is as a whole.  At first it appears to be a simple film about rebellion, but this quickly evolves into a commentary on adapting youth mentalities into a South Korea that continues to industrialize at a more rapid rate.  Multiple scenes in the film depict Painter destroying various signs the promote unity and work ethics within South Korea.  It is not until we realize that he was once an aspiring artist whose dreams were shattered by rhetoric of "real work" and "respectable" employment that his rage is explained.  Fortunately, by the films close painter has found a way in which to adapt his skills to assure gainful employment and thus fit into a vision of South Korea in which every person finds success.  While it could be easy to read such a narrative as inherently conservative, I would argue that this is by no means the case; instead it is rather liberal in its commentary on proper employment.  The other gang members find success as musicians, baseball players and drill instructors.  Attack the Gas Station! is not a film about what one cannot do with innate skills, but instead about promoting the cultivation of such skills in unique and profitable ways.  In fact, the film is incredibly critical of ideologies that dismiss individuals lack of social involvement and note the such rhetoric comes from both the upper and lower classes, as is evidenced by the various businessmen who dismiss No Mark and his friends, as well as the gang members who claim that the gang cannot excel beyond their petty turf wars.  Ultimately, the film reminds viewers that in order to prove successful, one must ignore social commentaries that are unfavorable and affect their own positive change, even if said change requires a night of thievery and debauchery to inspire the desire to move forward.

Attack the Gas Station! is something to be viewed fully and without interruption.  I cannot begin to recommend it enough, particularly to those individuals who find themselves fans of action films; to me this is one of the best in some time.  A copy is a must, also it appears as though there is a sequel.

Don’t Go Chasing Shadows: The Woman In Black (2012)

A time long ago in cinema history known as the 1970’s witnessed a particularly offering of horror films from the illustrious company known as Hammer Films.  This company become popular quite quickly given their keen understanding of Gothic horror and a substantial use of corn syrup blood.  Tragically, as technology advanced it appeared as though the magnificent company lacked the relevance to continue successfully franchising their films when competing with films with larger production scales.  However, the recent release of the surprisingly enjoyable The Woman In Black proved a success for the newly revived company and offers the promise of a good future for Gothic horror.  Perhaps it is just the right mix of Daniel Radcliffe, jumpy scares and rotting children’s toys that makes the film so damn creepy, but while watching the film I could not help but find myself reminded of the eerie nature of The Wicker Man, as well as the dreary desperation of contemporary Asian films.  It is not necessarily a new offering to the genre of horror, but it is certainly refreshing to see the genre done right, because it is becoming more difficult to find consistently good horror offerings in the past few years.  Essentially, The Woman In Black is your textbook horror film and as such it is a welcome viewing experience that respects its absurdity without losing any of its suspenseful elements.

The Woman in Black focuses on Arthur (Daniel Radcliffe) a wraithlike young man who is coping with the untimely death of his wife after the birth of their son.  He is scraping by attempting to provide care for his child while also making a name for himself as an up and coming lawyer.  Despite his best efforts, he is threatened with his job unless he agrees to take on some clerical work in a desolate village that is a lengthy travel by train.  Upon arrival to the town, Arthur is dismissed given his foreign nature and clear attachment to technologies and his clearly urban leanings, attempting to find help from the various townsfolk with no success, Arthur is eventually befriended by Daily (Ciarin Hinds)  the only man in the village who owns a car.  Oblivious to the eerie nature of the town, Arthur demands a ride to the manor of Eel Marsh, which belonged to the late Alice Drabow.  It is once he ventures into this house that he realizes the village is not quite as simple as it initially let on.  After viewing a mysterious woman walking through the cemetery outside the manner, Arthur begins to ask questions about what actually happened at Eel Marsh.  Despite the attempts by the villagers, including Daily, to extract himself from the situation, Arthur continues to dig and discovers that Drabow actually lost her own child after it was removed from her custody given her instable mental state.  If this were not bad enough, Drabow was forced to watch her child die in the lake in front of her unable to provide assistance as she was locked away in a cellar.  As a result, Drabow’s ghost takes vengeance on the village causing the town’s children to kill themselves inexplicably.  Arthur, both adamant about keeping his job and realizing his otherness allows him access to hidden parts of the village, takes it upon himself to fix the situation.  With the help of Daily he discovers the location of Drabow’s dead child and returns it to her room, hoping that by reuniting the two the curse will forever end.  However, as Arthur awaits the arrival of his son to the village, the film cuts to the now empty house as the voice of Drabow yells her refusal to provide forgiveness, this is followed by Arthur’s son walking onto the tracks of an oncoming train, only to cause Arthur to dive to his rescue.  The film then cuts to the two walking in a darker version of the train station to discover Arthur’s dead wife, the scene implies that the family is reunited with the death of Arthur and his son and the three walk off into the darkness of the tunnel ahead.  In the closing image, the camera pans to a statue of Drabow in the corner as the head moves to make direct eye contact with viewers, suggesting that her curse is transferred off the screen and into reality.

While horror films are often relegated to a lesser film genre given their usually schlocky nature, it is important to note that they, perhaps more than any other genre, allow for possibilities of alternative narratives and previously unseen characters.  Take the original Night of the Living Dead for example.  In this work, the main character is a black male, which prior to this film was something considerably unusual, particularly in such a popular film.  This happens to some extent in The Woman in Black, as Arthur is certainly not your traditional hero.  He is a young widowed dad who is not entirely masculine and is undoubtedly not mentally stable.  Arthur clearly suffers from some level of crippling depression, which affects his behaviors and allows him to become in touch with the spiritual world.  In another setting, the hero would have been a stalwart character of social power, perhaps a police officer or a soldier.  Another notable feature of this particular horror film is its dealings with unjust seclusion to a person with mental illness.  To some extent, the character of Drabow nicely reflects that character of the crazy woman in the attic from Jane Eyre who would be given her own narrative in Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea.  The reflection exists in the fact that a person is placed in solitary confinement for no apparent reason and is not allowed access to the world she created.  It is only suggested that Drabow had a child and that the child’s father is completely out of the picture.  Similar to the woman in the attic who burns down the Rochester house in revolt, Drabow is doing so out of vengeance, as well as lack of acknowledgement.  It could be argued that if Drabow were simply allowed access to her child then none of the terrible instance would have occurred.  Unfortunately, this is not the case and the result is gruesome to say the least.  Horror predicates itself on the absurd, however, it also reminds viewers that in  many of these instances the vengeful ghosts are doing so for a clear social injustice done to them in the past, and as such it is a call to end such irrational behavior in contemporary settings.

The Woman in Black is still making its way through theaters and is incredibly cinematic.  Take some friends with you, as it is certainly an edge of the seat viewing experience.  As for the eventually release, it is certainly a bluray grab for horror fans.

He Who Values His Life Dies A Dog's Death: 13 Assassins (2010)

The wicked mind of Takashi Miike has brought movie lovers a wide array of twisted films, most notably his 1999 film Audition, which is a personal favorite of mine.  Upon hearing that he had signed on to direct a remake of a sixties samurai film was a cause for celebration and was a film I greatly anticipated viewing.  I had, unlike many people in the United States, the pleasure of viewing the grand piece of cinema on 35 mm, which only helped to make the already brilliant film that much more amazing.  It is a film, in which those familiar with the expansive oeuvre of Miike, will instantly realize the directors maturity.  While his earlier films such as Audition and Ichi the Killer are brilliant, it is obvious that the, then young, director relied heavily on violent images for shock and awe.  13 Assassins certainly has its fair share of grotesque and hard to view imagery, however, Miike has clearly learned to moderate the imagery and help it to advance the narrative, as well as cause audiences severe discomfort.  With his newest work, Miike is beginning to mirror his contemporary Michael Haneke.  As a samurai film, 13 Assassins is true to the tradition, and has all the poetics, action and bad ass characters one would come to expect from the genre.  It is expertly shot, mixing stagnant symmetrical camera work, with experimental handheld action angles to create a viewing experience that is truly unique and incredibly engaging.  To put it bluntly, several Hollywood directors could use a lesson on making action films via Miike.

13 Assassins, as the title suggests, follows a group of samurai who have been assigned the task of assassinating a corrupt political leader named Lord Naritsugu (Goro Inagaki) who has become considerably infamous for his psychotic fascination with torturing and often killing the people under his jurisdiction.  Given his unquestioned place of power, those working below him struggle to find a way to undermine him one individual Sir Doi (Mikijiro Hiro), particularly loathes Naritsugu for his aggressive and evil actions.  This rage leads him to hire an aging samurai named Shinzaemon (Koji Yakusho) to take upon the task of killing him.  Realizing it is likely his only chance to actually engage in the samurai code, Shinzaemon stoically accepts the job and proceeds to gather a group of samurai's to join in the assassination.  In traditional samurai film fashion, the group consists of a varied group of samurais including among others a silent lone wolf, two humor inclined bomb experts, an aging spear master, a rebellious youth who is unsure about the ethics of samurai ways.  At one point in their travels, the group even recruit the help of a boar hunter, who despite being a samurai proves to be very adept at beating the crap out of people with sacks of rocks.  After some effort and careful planning the group of thirteen warriors, take command of a village and use it as a mousetrap for the soon to arrive Lord Naritsugu.  Even after realizing the dangers of entering the town, Lord Naritsugu faces the attack head on seeing it as more a game of chess in which he can throw hundreds of soldiers at with little concern for the value of life.  Over an epic battle scene, the group of samurai slowly dwindles leaving only Shinzaemon and the rebellious youth to fight Naritsugu.  Realizing it is Shinzaemon's battle the youth steps aside and watches as the aged samurai makes rather quick work of the pretentious Naritsugu.  Upon being stabbed Naritsugu whines in distress as he had up until that point only dealt pain.  Indifferent to his pain Shinzaemon kills Nartisugu, but passes out from his own wound, only to die momentarily.   The people left standing are the rebelious youth, and by some miracle the hunter.  The two go their separate ways, as the film closes with a note from Miike telling viewers that the system allowing such rulers to go into power would be abolished only decades later, suggesting the equal, if not greater power of politics to prevent corruption of such dire forms to ever take power again within Japan.

Keeping such a closing commentary in mind, it is clear that Miike's film is considerably political.  It adheres to the old notion that "absolute power corrupts absolutely," but adds the twist of the truly dangerous problems of such possessors of power being by all definitions insane.  The Lord Naritsugu, depicted within 13 Assasins is a historical character, although it is obvious that Miike took poetic license when depicting how truly cruel the person acted.  However, it is not unfair to compare the actions of such a person with the atrocities that were occurring in 2010 and are in some tragic cases still occurring within much of the world.  One only needs to look up Sudan in the news, or read about the problems happening in The Congo, barring the ridiculous outpouring of "support" from Invisible Children, to see that such acts of violence do occur.  We as a privileged Western power have the fortunate ability to completely ignore such happenings, yet their existence is nonetheless there.  A film like 13 Assassins reminds viewers of such facts and that like the seppuku committed in the films opening that it is only until someone of high power gets hurt or dies that we remotely begin to care.  Miike's film also reminds people that action is necessary, and that sometimes the action requires a small amount of well-reasoned actors, as opposed to a large number of people half-attempting to solve the problem, again an organization like Invisible Children comes to mind.  In essence, Miike's film demands action against atrocity, however, he suggests that the action enacted should consider the importance of quality over quantity.

Miike's film is a thing of violent beauty and a must see, thankfully it is available on Watch Instantly, at the moment, and is well worth spending over two hours to watch.

Put A Chain Around My Neck And Lead Me Anywhere: Out Of The Blue (1980)

After falling off the face of the directing earth for most of the 1970's Dennis Hopper stumbled into directing Out of the Blue after its original director dropped out at the last minute.  This matter of happen chance could not have produced better results.  A film that had been banned for years finds itself popping up in three pack DVD collections, truck stop rental booths and perhaps least surprisingly Harmony Korine's top ten film list.  The films is not so much graphic as it is desolate, given that a relatively large amount of the film is set within the punk scene of Canada, while the rest centers around a bird infested junk yard.  It is a film that signifies all the scathing criticism evoked in Easy Rider, yet given that this particular film was made for television it uses subtle acts of deviance as its source of inspiration.   The film is likely unwatchable to many viewers, but those with a knack for the avant-garde and a love for the late auteur Out of the Blue will be quite the cinematic excursion.

The narrative of Out of the Blue is rather disjointed, but this should come as no surprise given the directorial styling of Dennis Hopper, what is for certain is that the film focuses on the tumultuous life of the young Elvis fanatic Cebe (Linda Manz) whose preoccupation with being a punk ruins her ability to excel in school or garner legitimate friendships.  The second factor hindering Cebe's success is her unhealthy attachment to her father Don (Dennis Hopper) who has recently ended a stint in jail for drunkenly crashing into a bus full of children, an accident in which Cebe was present.  To make matters worse, Cebe's mother is a heroin addict who is incapable of standing up to Don and is oblivious to the troubles her daughter is experiencing.  With this set of forces working against her, it is no surprise that she is sexually confused, inclined towards drug use and inextricably attached to the rebellious imagery of punk rock.  Cebe finds solace in hours of drumming away and playing guitar, while constantly quoting her idol Elvis.  The film for the most part only continues to survey the problems evident in Cebe's life, particularly her particularly problematic idealization of her father, who is perpetually drunk, destroys work property and at one point attempts to rape his daughter to assure her heterosexuality.  Through all of this Cebe continues to adhere to her ideals of punk rock rebellion, ultimately leading to an act of self-destruction that kills her self, as well as her mother, claiming that she like Sid Vicious must take away the ones she loves form the cruel and unjust world in which she lives.  Her rebellion burns brightly and quickly, only to fade away in the films closing credits.

This film is brilliant in its study of the decaying of American familial ideals.  Sure, the film was made in Canada, but it is obvious that Hopper had his eyes set on contradicting the emerging conservative ideals of family as they related to America particularly.  Cebe is by no means a heterosexual character, in fact, she often morphs her sexuality for certain situations, donning a dress at one time to please her father, while wearing jackets and button up shirts to assert authority in a male-dominated world of music.  Similarly, the drug addicted nature of both Cebe's parents reflect growing issues of substance abuse that would emerge in the 1980's, an issue that the Reagan administration would approach with little to no success.  Finally, the film deals in great length with problems of poverty and the barriers it produces.  Cebe is arguably homeless, often spending nights sleeping in the wreckage of her father's accident and much of her daytime is spent at her mothers job.  In fact, the only images of Cebe in a home setting involve her playing music, implying that any semblance of a home life immediately results in her desire to escape, making her homelessness both literal and metaphorical.  The structure of nuclear family does not exist in Out of the Blue, and if Hopper's ending is indicative of anything, the possibility of rebuilding such a family is very, very unlikely.  Out of the Blue burns with opposition to anything and everything conservative, and is a faint flame to its predecessor Easy Rider.

Please buy this film, it is a shame that only poorly produced copies exist.  I am certain that if the right company cleaned this film up its critical acclaim would expand.  It is not a matter of curiosity, but necessity that you check this movie out.

Father, Forever You Wrestle Inside Me: The Tree of Life (2011)

Prior to viewing this film, I read countless reviews that claimed Terrence Malick's most recent film to be utterly indescribable.  I assumed this to be a simplistic avoidance of what was to my knowledge a rather deeply philosophical film.  I assured myself that once I was able to see this film I would offer up my own answer to this lack of commentary with a dense and well directed review.  Gladly, however,  I am like these other viewers incapable of providing any vision as to how truly magnificent this piece of cinema was to me.  I can say this however, Malick put more effort into making this film than most people put into their entire lives.  I am not offering you a review beyond this, but instead a list of a few thoughts as they relate to this film.  I strongly encourage you to see it is theaters as it will invariably change everything you know about cinema, and arguably your life.  I know it is a drastic statement, but it is sincerely offered from a rather humbled film scholar.  With that being said here are some thoughts.

Malick offers a two plus hour set of images that each stand alone as moments of art.

Malick has made a film that transcends itself into a realm of spiritual and cerebral exuberance.

It is the most emotional response I have had to a movie since childhood.

It is simultaneously singular and universal in its audience.

For those not prepared for the experience...it could very well ravish you.

Malick has taken a vision of the heavens and offered it to us...it would be a sin not to enjoy the immaculate vision.

Again please see this movie...that is all.

Freudian Slips, Hysteria and Cross-Dressing Incest: Unconscious (2004)

I have done a rather large amount of research in Spanish cinema, or at least enough to know that post-Franco cinema Spanish cinema is preoccupied with sexuality, the more perverse the better.  This is blatant in the final works of Luis Bunuel and most every work of Pedro Almodovar.  However, even lesser known Spanish filmmakers fill their movies with sexual innuendos, homosexuality and rampant perversity.  Joaquin Oristrell's Unconscious is perhaps one of the more cinematically sound examples.  It is a comedy, thriller, romance, period piece all mangled together to create a film very reminiscent of the work of Jean-Pierre Jeunet.  The film, while complicated, never becomes burdensome and actually warmly welcomes its viewers to partake in a murder mystery without becoming preoccupied with its complexities.

Unconscious takes place in early 20th century Spain, which, like the rest of Europe, was enamored with all things psychoanalytical, particularly in regards to human sexuality.  The film focuses on Alma (Leonar Watling) and her brother-in-law/love interest Salvador (Luis Tosar).  The duo, against Salvador's wishes, sets out to uncover the reason for the abrupt disappearance of Alma's husband Leon (Alex Brendemuhl).  What unfolds is a bizarre, sporadic and, dare I say, hysterical dive into all things sexually deviant.  While searching for Leon the Alma and Salvador witness acts of sadomasochism, homosexuality, and unknowing incest.  It comes to the attention of the duo that it is Leon's accidental act of incest upon Alma that led to his disappearance.  This break from society that allowed him to plot a murder of the great Sigmund Freud of who he blaims for bringing the "taboo" act into Leon's consciousness.  I will spare further details as it would likely ruin the films great flow and enjoyability, but the absurdity extends far beyond the previous sentences of explanation.

The film tackles issues of gender rather blatantly, particularly in regards to the notion of hysteria.  Alma is through much of the film pregnant, making her react brashly and without concern for others.  Salvador, and other characters, note her "hysterical" nature...a term that is used to denote the psychosis as distinctly female.  Ironically, Alma is the least feminine in a metaphorical and literal sense.  Salvador is often incapable of making quick decisions, fails to act logically and allows Alma to wield phallic objects in his place.  More so, her husband Leon cross-dresses and fantasizes of being a female, obviously blowing the entire notion of heteronormativity out the window.  It is a film that shows not only the pompous, nonsensical nature of psychoanalysis, but its inherent patriarchal structure as well.  It takes notions of feminine equality out of the unconscious and into the viewers' reality.

I have to thank my girlfriend for picking this film out from Netflix.  It was certainly a fun and gorgeous film to watch and I highly recommend renting it, but purchasing the film might only be necessary to fans of Spanish cinema.

They Can't Take Our Town: Marwencol (2010)

When a documentary filmmaker decides to do a character study it often proves to be an awful failure or a huge success. Fortunately for Jeff Malmberg, his study of mentally paralyzed Mark Hogencamp and his handmade fantasy world of Marwencol proves not only successful, but also transcendental at times.  It manages to display both the abyss of humanity and its moments of triumph while remaining accessible, entertaining and thought provoking throughout.  Furthermore, unlike a variety of documentaries of this nature, it keeps up an artistic value that allows for breathtaking cinematography, heartbreaking disconnect and a sobering acceptance of the tragedy that exists right in front of the human eye.

Marwencol's narrative is somewhat complicated, not unlike the stories created by Mark to explain his dioramas.  We are told from the onset that Mark's amnesia is directly tied to a beating he received after leaving a bar a few years earlier.  It is implied that Mark provoked said beating in a drunken stupor, but fails to recall precisely what he said or did.  As a form of therapy, Mark now builds and adds to a fictional model town he refers to as Marwencol, which is a combination of his name and two other real females he knows.  His town, is not a fictional escape per se, but instead a simulacrum of his own life, replacing the muggers with SS officers, and his ideal female with a time-traveling witch.  It is quickly apparent, as his attorney notes, that Mark uses the world to rationalize and accept the violent acts he previously received.  More so, it is made slowly apparent that Mark also cross-dresses, displaying a particular fascination with women's shoes.  As a replaying of the police interviews shows, Mark was attacked not because of a drunken argument, but because he admitted in public to cross-dressing.  He was a victim of a hate crime that left him severely maimed.  Thus Marwencol serves as Mark's world of comfort, but also as a form of artistic expression that is so fascinating and sincere that it lands him a show in Greenwich Village, New York. 

His trip to the city, though anxiety ridden, allows mark to come face to face with his past and affords him a chance to cross dress without criticism a moment he shows great pride in on screen.  In a touching set of closing shots, Mark creates a Marwencol within Marwencol, which allows viewers to assume that despite his loss of memory, Mark has come to terms with his life and accepts his act of therapy as an integral portion of his daily life.

The film is deeply philosophical and approaches issues of memory loss in a honest and direct manner.  It reminds those watching that memory loss is often tragic, yet in many cases, the loss of everything also allows a person to start over and right wrongs of the past.  Furthermore, it questions how much of a divide truly exists between the world of fantasy and reality.  As Mark's friends and co-workers show it is easy to sustain normalcy between both if everyone involved is willing to play along.  Finally, and perhaps most importantly, it touches upon the question of what legitimizes artistic expression.  As a friend of Mark's notes, his work is not ironic, like others who use dolls for art; it is very intimate and true to his feelings.  The photographs taken by Mark show this, as his replicas are often extremely detailed from incorporating his own personal photographs or adding makeup and downcast faces to display emotion.  It is art for the sake of release, not for the sake of commentary.  Mark and those around him understand that for him it is much more than making a name for himself, it is a means of emotional survival.

I am not extremely versed in documentaries, but this is one of the best I have seen to date.  I would encourage looking into not only the film, but the work of Mark Hogencamp as well, it is all available at this link.