It's Not About You, You Mathematical Dick!: Good Will Hunting (1997)

Oh my it has been nearly a month and some change since I scribed anything here on the blog.  I have just come up for air from a hellish semester, which included many papers, a few presentations and a ton of other things.  All the while I was watching countless films, but failed to put together my thoughts on any of them in favor of reading or writing (mostly about film) in its various formats.  While I doubt I will be blogging with any consistency over the summer, I do hope to be much more present than I was at the end of this school year and I might even be bold enough to attempt to have a marathon in July or August, who sees, I would have to pick a genre and commit to it and definitely plan ahead of time.  With that in mind, I have indeed been watching some rather enjoyable films, a few of which I desperately wanted to write about but simply did not have the time whether they be the deeply engaging documentaries like Michael Jackson's This Is It and the Japanese political study Campaign, or Koreeda Hirokazu's newest film Like Father, Like Son I had thoughts that were shared on Letterboxd, but little time to outright reflect and compose a string of thoughts on the film.  I even had an entire idea bout how I was going to talk about the mechanized nature of King Vidor's adaptation of The Fountainhead, but this too fell to the wayside when I was finishing up work for professors on the last days of class.  I have found something to return to the blog with in the way of Good Will Hunting, one of the countless films that was present on my shame list, particularly since I am a fan of the work of Gus Van Sant, and was fully aware of the critical acclaim surrounding this film.  Although it does suffer from falling to the wayside for other more contemporary Oscar babes, there is something particularly profound about what is occurring in Good Will Hunting that culminates into the rare perfect film a topic I know I have discussed in the past.  Between the precise writing of then aspiring stars Damon and Affleck, a idiosyncratic, yet universally accessible performance by Robin Williams and the keen eye of Van Sant, it is hard to find fault in a work like Good Will Hunting.  Furthermore, it is hard to create a narrative that exists within the space of Boston that does not instantly become muddled in its own seedy, working class ennui, so much so that the narrative itself becomes sullied in its insistence on being rough around the edges (a fault that is present in some of Affleck's directorial work).  Unsullied by any falsities, Good Will Hunting is the ideal Oscar picture, one that is sound in its execution, but never too on-the-nose to be rejected as a pandering to the masses.

Good Will Hunting focuses primarily on the title character Will Hunting (Matt Damon) a former orphan turned janitor who works at the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology, although his presence goes quietly unnoticed considering his occupation.  Will stays, instead, close with his friends from the working class Boston area, specifically Chuckie (Ben Affleck).  The group tends to spend their evenings drinking and occasionally brawling against local rivals.  It is during one particular day that Will takes it upon himself to solve a presumably unsolvable equation put forth by praised MIT professor Dr. Lambeau (Stella Skarsgård) that things change drastically.  The surprised Lambeau seeks out the janitor and attempts to convince him of his skills and indeed saves him from having to spend time in jail by noting that he could instead work as one of his students while also receiving counseling.  Will, however, jaded by the system of orphans, wherein he was subject to various types of abuse, finds ways to challenge the authority of the figures who are 'helping' him while also proving that he is smarter in every way, particularly by reading their works or outwitting them in their methodologies.  Nearly at the breaking point, Dr. Lambeau seeks help from his former college roommate turned community college psychology professor Sean Maguire (Robin Williams) who happened to grow up in the same working class neighborhood as Will.  Although, his methods are wildly unconventional, even Sean immediately finds Will a handful, taking particular offense when Will begins prying about his late wife.  Still, Sean sees through Will's defenses to find the pained figure and pushes to make the young man see his potential, allowing him a space of silence and only affording him a point to speak when he feels it necessary.  Yet, a variety of other endeavours challenge Will including a burgeoning romantic relationship with Harvard student Skylar (Minnie Driver) and the prospect of countless jobs from agencies who seek to profit from his mathematical mind.  Will seems resilient to change, as it would require himself to open up and approach a world that he only knows as harsh and violent.  When he seeks reassurance in safety from Chuckie he is met with surprise when Chuckie too demands that he leave Boston for bigger and better things.  Though gracious to Dr. Lambeau for the opportunities, Will choses his own path one that he is guided towards by Sean and by the closing of the film,  Will choses  to move towards the future and escape the safety and solitude of his troubling past.

What makes Good Will Hunting work as a piece of cinema is almost entirely tied to its formalist and structuralist element, indeed, this is often the case when I throw around the phrase 'perfect film.'  In most situations it is evidenced of a well-made a perfectly composed piece of art.  Although there are exceptions when the film choses to be systematicaly subversive in its construct yet still achieves a high degree of success (Breathless, The Night of the Hunter and Nashville come to mind), Good Will Hunting is outright a piece of poised and precise filmmaking.  Gus Van Sant is an exceptional director and clearly works from a space of ideal versions, as opposed to simply churning out another film for profit.  I am fully aware that he has come under criticism for more recent works like Restless, but I even find that to be an exceptional work.  What he manages to evoke as a filmmaker is nothing short of a vision.  Taking on the work of newly emerging writers is one thing, but to chose to cast them in the lead roles is another risk all its own.  Furthermore, Van Sant realizes the power of the unconventional, his own queering of cinema taking on multiple layers in every work, here subverting the idea of who can play a serious role and how violence and trauma can manifest themselves in the subtlest of manners.  In one of the more telling scenes of the film, Chuckie is bemoaning Will's lack of ambition and the entire portion of dialogue is delivered by Affleck, yet the camera pans past Affleck to capture the reaction shots of Damon who is putting acting sublimely, each gesture of his brow or slight curling of his lip reacting.  A lesser film would have done a proper shot/reaction shot composition and thus the emotiveness of the scene would be lost.  What makes Good Will Hunting reside in the space of the perfect is that it works nearly organically, the camera follows action and at times viewers are led to believe that the actors themselves are working in a space of purely improvisational dialogue, this is almost certainly the case for Williams whose comedic moments add a delightful flare to more than one occasion of tension.  Where the film works beyond the normative is in how Van Sant frame desire though, in what seem like throw away moments, a lingering arm over the shoulder, or a head being slightly out of frame, becomes a suggestion on the complexities of relationships that manage to make Good Will Hunting both specific to one young man's journey and decidedly universal in its advocation of escaping the many points of complacency life might offer.

Key Scene:  The lecture that Chuckie delivers to Will while on lunch break at the construction site, is really the crux of this film, although it is one of many moments of absolutely astounding formalist filmmaking throughout.

This is a definitive work of contemporary filmmaking, to avoid it because it is critically-acclaimed would be a dire mistake.  If you have not seen it, seek it out immediately.

Strange That The Mind Will Forget So Much: How Green Was My Valley (1941)

Poor How Green Was My Valley might have the single worst rap in the history of cinema.  Standing in as the film that beat out Citizen Kane at the Oscars many people dismiss it purely on the assumption that because it is a Oscar win that the film is somehow less legitimate, a feeling that is mounted tenfold against the work that beat out what was for quite some time the greatest film in ever made.  While Citizen Kane is the superior film and easily out delivers this film by lightyears, How Green Was My Valley was part of a rather respectable year of filmmaking one that saw the two films already noted competing against the likes of Sergeant York and The Maltese Falcon, for the latter its own place within the canon of cinema is equally well-established and could just have easily won.  Mind you Sergeant York is no film to be ignored either.  I say all this in a roundabout way as to claim that How Green Was My Valley is quite good, indeed, it evokes the likes of a ton of different European auteurs, notably Bergman, Bresson and De Sica, while also having a nod or two to the expressionist era as would be in line with Welles work of the same year.  All this is working within the same space and is orchestrated by John Ford, a filmmaker whose career is well-documented and incredibly storied, but also happens to be more closely tied to his prolific work within the Western.  In all its sentimental, coming-of-age glory, How Green Was My Valley could well have been a stand alone classic that was mention in the same breath as Citizen Kane, were it not to suffer the fate of coming out the same year and also winning a rather arbitrary Best Picture Oscar.  Those who have seen How Green Was My Valley know that it is nothing short of cinematic perfection itself, not necessarily reinventing the language of film in the way its competitor did, but certainly showing that when fully realized the methodology at play within this type of filmmaking could result in pure moviegoing glee and fulfillment, taking strides to recreate both the most abject moments of existence, alongside the moments when happiness is alive and well.  Amidst a non-American setting and a poignant religious allegory, How Green Was My Valley is what one should seek out when hoping to better understand Classic Hollywood.  Citizen Kane is the divergence of genius, whereas this film is the working within the confines to its most realized.

How Green Was My Valley focuses via an trans-temporal narrative on the memories and experiences of Huw Morgan (voiced by Irving Pichel and acted by Roddy McDowall) the youngest boy of the Morgan family, whose entire male line is tied to the mining community of their remote Welsh village.  Headed by the religiously stern, but absolutely loving father Gwilym (Donald Crips) the Morgans strive to be respectable members of the community, all predicated on their children Ianto (John Loder), Ivor (Patric Knowles), Davy (Richard Frasser) and Angharad (Maureen O'Hara) all following in line.  Indeed, all the Morgan boys work at the mine, making considerable money for the family, much of which Gwilym allows them to spend freely, yet when workers from other areas arrive, willing to work for next to nothing, economic prosperity begins to dwindle and the sons begin traveling as far as America to find work.  Huw who is far too young to work stays at home with his mother Beth (Sara Allgood) and helps keep watch over the house.  Tragically, however, a horse accident leaves Huw crippled indefinitely, causing him to understand the world from the space of his window sill bed.  During this time the various sons return and young Angharad becomes the object of romantic pining for local priest Gruffydd (Walter Pidgeon). Gruffydd is a far cry from the more conservative clergymen that have occupied the town in the past, both willing to party and drink with the workers, as well as openly sharing in their sentiments when it comes to creating unions and opposing the harsh and swift overpowering of their town by greedy mine owners.  Given Huw's injury his time to enter the mines is prolonged, instead being sent to school, where he becomes rough and tumble in the face of becoming the object of ridicule for persons who find his working class status despicable, most notably his own teacher.  Yet, with the help of family friends he becomes a powerful boxer and eventually does decide to work in the mines himself.  It is during his work in the mine that his father becomes trapped in the rocks, becoming so severely injured as to die in the mines.  This, however, does not occur before one last bonding between the two, one that is remember fondly and trans-temporally between the young Huw and his narrating future self.

How Green Was My Valley shares a lot in common with one of the first films I reviewed here on the blog Summer of '42, in so much as both offer a distinct focus on how to tell the coming of age tale.  In both films cinematic elements like light melodramic music and notably soft lighting, allow for the idyllic to take precedence in the visual cinematic space.  Indeed, both main characters, Huw and Hermie in Summer of '42 are delightfully humorous characters, Huw attaching fondly to his family while Hermie clings ideally to his friends, all of which is overlaid by the longing remembrances of a disembodied narrator.  Neither film is content to stage itself completely in the ideal depiction of the past, because these are stories of world-weary adults looking back on the past, their ability to recontextualize previous occurrences meaning that innocent and irrelevant events take on completely different occurrences when remembered.  Take for example, the first encounter with Gruffydd, it is situated within the church and is suggested to be the moment wherein Huw's sister Angharad becomes enamored with the priest.  In an impossibly high-angled shot one would assume it to be Huw's point of vision, which is somewhat true because he is looking at Angharad look at Gruffydd, only further repurposed when one realizes that it is Huw looking back on this moment of discovery.  Yet, what makes Ford's creation of this dreamlike remembrance particularly thrilling is the acknowledgement that certain past events cannot be detached from their emotive elements.  This is realized in its most joyful manner when Huw learns to walk again with the aid of Gruffydd, the scene playing out in a valley with a heavy amount of lighting as if to create an angelic quality over the entire event.  In contrast, indeed, comes the discovery of his father in his last moments alive, the shadows and claustrophobic nature of the mine are creepy and the older Huw clearly looks back on this moment with all the anxiety that would have reflected the initial encounter, as it is undoubtedly a past occurrence that is still loaded with much negativity.  With all this in mind, there is still the closing shot, which seems to suggest not a memory, but a future space, one that has a distinctly astral quality about it.

Key Scene:  If you Google this film, you will get the image of Huw right after he has learned to walk again and this is deservedly so, it is absolutely beautiful cinematography.

While I watched this on DVD, I can only imagine that the bluray is exponentially more stunning.  You should pick it up and let me know how gorgeous it looks.

This Kid Is Flat Out Magic: Speed Racer (2008)

I will preface this review by noting that I once dressed as Speed Racer for a costume during career day in high school.  This will assuredly make my reactions to all things relating to the franchise particularly notable, especially something like a live action remake of the film.  I will admit that I was wholly aware of this film when it came out in 2008, but purposefully avoided seeing it because at the time I did not want my nostalgia, and frankly, still rooted adoration for the film negated in any serious way.  I had been told, prior to getting into the film that this was not good by the general film going public who were assumedly expecting something in line with The Wachowski's other works prior, such as The Matrix and V for Vendetta.  I admit that Speed Racer, in its seizure-inducing visual styles and seismic like pacing, is a far cry from the previously mentioned films, but when it comes to a directing duo such as Andy and Lana Wachowski repetition is simply not a thing of interest.  Speed Racer was critiqued for not appropriating the franchise and was dismissed as being all thriller with absolutely no filler.  I find both of these accusations to be indicative on individual critical lenses that cannot accept that the film is managing to do both of these things in such a synchronized way as to completely move beyond a space of live action remake to a complete revisioning of the world of Speed Racer.  Between a noted choice to create a cyberspace for the world, one that incorporates CGI graphics with a very early pixelated look and the after effects added to many of the motions undertaken by the character it is a noted shame that Speed Racer did not receive a greater degree of praise for its absolutely thrilling use of special effects.  The Wachoswki's clearly took their source material to heart and managed to create something that was both true to the material as well as infused with their own cinematic points of interest, the delightful uses of kung fu in the film being a great example of just this occurrence.  Indeed, Speed Racer the film is not the cartoon, because as a live action film it cannot perfectly recreate that which does not exist in the real.  Between the vibrant colors, purposefully measured acting of the performers and a keen eye for narrative scope, Speed Racer gets as close to the cartoon as possible without relying on cel animation to exist.

Speed Racer focuses on the title character of Speed (Emile Hirsch) who is a member of the independent racing family The Racer's.  While Speed has become the new hope for racing in the family he is living under the shadow of his late older brother Rex (Scott Porter) who died in a car crash much to the sadness of his father Pops (John Goodman) and Mom (Susan Sarandon).  Nonetheless, Speed proves from a young age that he is simply tied to racing, therefore, spending his days becoming better at the sport, letting it even invade his dreams.  Supporting Speed are the other members of his family Sprite (Paulie Litt) and a pet monkey Chim Chim (Willy and Kenzie), alongside Sparky (Kick Curry) the Racer's mechanic and Speed's girlfriend Trixie (Christina Ricci).  When Speed makes a name for himself during a big race, he becomes the object of affection for various racing companies, including the corporate power figure Royalton (Roger Allam).  Despite being offered lavish goods and the highest training, Speed refuses to join the Royalton racing team, thus leading to him becoming a target of the other drivers who are part of a fixing scheme that is affecting the professional racing circuit.  Approached by the enigmatic and stoic Racer X (Matthew Fox) in unison with Inspector Detector (Benno Fürmann) Speed is asked to help create a team that will directly counter the corruption in the sport.  Although initially hesitant, Speed agrees to join when another racer Taejo Togokahn (Rain) also joins forces with him and X.  Unfortunatley, during the race it is revealed that Taejo is under the strings of a larger corporate scam, leaving Speed no choice but to enter into a highly contestable race and prove that he is not only the best racer in the circuit, but that he can achieve victory without playing into the scheme of fixed matches.  After the affirmation of Racer X, who Speed believes to be his deceased brother, Speed takes on the greatest racers in the industry and even manages to catch one of them in the process of cheating.  In victory, Speed ushers in a new era of racing where skill and compassion trump deception and wealth.

If this were any other filmmakers work, I would be inclined to read the narrative on a very cursory level, completely overlooking the possibility of gender politics, ethics and even religion at play in the film.  The Wachowski's however, are not any other filmmakers, and whether it be their masterpiece The Matrix, or their more contentious recent film with Tom Twyker Cloud Atlas it is certain that they take narrative to be something that works on layers and pulls from various sources to create its details.  Speed Racer is a lengthy movie considering its subject matter and potential intended audience, but it is very much in this length that the film can be discussed for its use, or lack thereof, of linear narrative to create identity and empathy in a film.  It would be simple to read this as a film about Speed Racer coming into his place as the future of a name in racing and it is very much that, however, the layers of performing the part of prodigal son, unwilling patriarch and thing of spectacle all emerge within the fantastical frenzy of the film.  The way figures move throughout the film in a layered, free floating manner suggests that as much as the narrative is decidedly predicated upon the decisions and actions of Speed, it is also in unison and constant engagement with the other figures in his life, both those incredibly close to him like Trixie and those almost wholly detached, such as the announcers whose voices and visages emerge in as almost a high a frequency as the main characters.  This all coalesces to suggest that every motion or action is in regards to a layer of contingent events that if altered even in the slightest could change the entirety of the narrative.  For example, Racer X knows that by revealing his identity to Speed in a very real sense could prove the very change that would minimally alter his ability to win the Grand Prix.  In a more cinematic and metaphorical level, Speed while still a good sport, nonetheless, has to learn that the best way to win a raise is not to be straightforward from beginning to end, but does require navigating outside the boundaries of the track, because these spaces are of equal importance to his advancement.  It is when he must use the Mach 5 to climb the side of the mountain, in the process skipping a section of the track, that he moves into a new space.  The Speed that is capable of unquestioned victory learns that linearity is futile, when those around are willing to help and hinder such progression, even if in an accidental manner.

Key Scene:  The outdoor kung fu fight is an excellent aside, in a film that is for all intents and purposes about race car driving.

This film is without a doubt one of the most underrated films of the past decade, alongside the other Wachowski work Cloud Atlas.  It pops of the screen and demands a bluray purchase unlike any other film.

Ban The Bomb And Do The Fuck All For A Living: Quadrophenia (1979)

The musical this month has proven to be rather traditional, even when considering the various post-genre films I tackled, the music component was set aside and separated as part of the narrative.  Indeed, the only other examples where defining the work as a musical might have proven to be a bit of a stretch would be Saturday Night Fever, but since it is so integral to the space of the film the labeling of it as such is necessary.  In contrast, but no less pertinent to the inclusion this month is the The Who inspired, mod-fashion donning Quadrophenia which is about as cool a youth in revolt film as a person could ever hope to encounter.   I decided to include it this month on the marathon of musicals primarily, because I wanted to find and excuse to finally view the film, but also because I wanted to look at work whose musical component played equal parts to the narrative, wherein each choice musically is an extension of the ideas and emotions of the characters on screen.  While this is not a common occurrence in cinema--excluding melodramatic elements--it has happened before, most notably with the films The Harder They Come and Amadeus.  I will say though, in the previously mentioned works, the music is clearly distinguished from the narrative, even in the sense that it is integral to its working, nothing exists quite like Quadrophenia, wherein the music is as much the heartbeat and thriving of the film, as are the wide-eyed but decidedly world weary faces of the characters in the film.  If the punk movement was already meeting its demise in Britain at the time and the working class came to grips with a lost socialist utopian ideal, Quadrophenia might well be the single most evocative and focused work on the various aftermath of such social decay.  Nobody in the film appears to have any sense of direction or guidance, wandering aimlessly through the film as the wailing of Roger Daltrey attempts to bring guidance like a prophet who is simply too ahead of his time.  To any other film, music would be a component that helps make the film work or fail, however, in Quadrophenia it is the film.

Quadrophenia focuses on the trials and tribulations of Jimmy (Phil Daniels) a young mod rocker, whose attachment to his working class identity, is in contrast with his hope to make it as a big name in the magazine industry, although he currently fails to rise above the role of mail clerk, instead seeking his escape through the use of pills, notably blues, which he attains from other members of his motorcycle riding crew.  Hoping to make some sense of his life, Jimmy navigates the world of London in a pill-induced fever dream, attempting to make passes at the girls he sees in clubs, while continually passing along his drugs to those around him, each escaping from their own communities, whether it be the drug dealing Jamaican immigrant Spider (Gary Shail) or the equally disillusioned love interest to Jimmy, Steph (Phil Daniels).  The constant late night boozing and partying on the part of Jimmy leads to constant condemnation by his suspicious parents, only finding minimal solace when he and his Father (Michael Elphick) share a joking--albeit telling--conversation about the nature of his musical tastes and particular adoration for the work of The Who.  When, Jimmy and his bike gang come to odds with the members of another rival group, led by the popular and notably attractive Ace Face (Sting) a heavy amount of rioting breaks out that involves destructing some of downtown London and leads to Jimmy becoming a troublesome figure to the police, which is only exacerbated by his recent breaking into a pharmacy to attain money and a large amount of pills, which he uses like candy.  When Jimmy eventually loses his job, he too loses any sense of his identity and when he can no longer keep the affections of Steph, who has now begun a relationship with another of Jimmy's friends, the lone young man takes to his motorbike and traverses the white cliffs of dover, yelling and screaming in frustration as he constantly looks over the cliff.  In the closing moments of the film, Jimmy careens his bike towards the cliff, in apparent suicide, however the last shot is solely of a destroyed bike and nothing more, the whereabouts of Jimmy remaining unknown.

I mentioned the way in which music works within this film, while it almost entirely exists within a space of the non-diegetic, there is one instance where Jimmy and a rival youth are enjoying a bath at a local bathhouse.  The two in separate rooms begin singing respective rock ballads of the time, constantly raising their voice and rhthym to overpower the other, despite the contestation of the other persons at the establishment.  While the singing starts off as a childish game of singing, it eventually takes on a violent degree as the two climb over the dividers and begin a fist fight.  It is the confrontational element that speaks to what is occurring within Quadrophenia and its use of music.  Either by juxtaposition or pure adrenaline, the music in the film serves as a means to extend the idea of youth as frustrated and confused, manifested most evidently by The Who's "Love Reign O'er Me" which is used in three sections of the film, all with different outcomes contingent on the point in Jimmy's evolution of the character.  In the first shots of the film, a line of it is used in a sort of medley with the other songs of the film, establishing the figure in relation to the youth.  The second sequence the song is used in a more ironic context, as Jimmy and his pals are cruising about London, attaching a sort of unknowing quest for the homosocial bond, while also accepting that such pursuing of desire meets with violent results in this young culture bent on revolt and some bizarre form of conformist anarchy.  Finally, when Jimmy has all but lost his entire social status and by extension his self-identity, the song plays a far more evocative and decidedly synchronous relation to the film, while images of Jimmy staring through a glass window with a reflection of a pier occur with the swelling of the intro music to the film, his driving on the cliffs juxtapose the ultimate lines of love and desire refreshment and healing through the cool rain.  Here the music is almost a requirement and demands that the viewer understand youth culture in a layered and intersecting dialogue at once part of many things, but always personal to the individual in the moment.

Key Scene: We are. We are. We are the mods.

The Criterion bluray for the film is crisp and vibrant and the audio of The Who songs makes it all the more wonderful.

No No! Stick To The Status Quo: High School Musical (2006)

I when first undertaking the "experience" that proved to be High School Musical I thought that I would just pick the most absurd line in the entire film as the quote for the blog title.  There were quite a few options to choose from, but while watching I realized that the "Stick To The Status Quo" song which is apparently intended to promote diversity and extending beyond one's assumed roles in life, is really quite arbitrary in a film that suggests as long as you stick to your original accepted lifestyle, it is permissible to be curious about the world around you, but again as long as you are successful at your socially prescribed role.  I understand that this was a made for television movie that aired on Disney Channel, but damn if it was not the most popular thing upon the time of its release, particularly for a young and impressionable crowd of people, who might have seen the half-hearted, poorly made movie as a sign of pushing diversity or new ideas into the world.  I am not lying when I say that some of the acting and production value at play in High School Musical is worse than The Room.  At least, there is a sense of endearing misdirection in the so-bad-it's-good cult classic, here considering the budget dumped on this film, it is inconceivable that it is anything less than well-executed.  In terms of a musical, High School Musical also falters considerably as it relies on glaringly obvious post-production sound and is so heavily edited during the choreographed sequences as to make one wonder as to whether or not any performer knew their dance routine beyond say two or three steps.  If Disney was ever clear in its failed intents on promoting diversity, it is right here in this film that almost seems smug in how well it is able to check off its "look we have this person of color" checklist and does the bare minimum necessary to deal with any sort of body politics.  Stick to the status quo, while not the intended mantra of this inconceivably bad piece of television movie execution, nonetheless, proves to be its reality.  Indeed, High School Musical is so concerned with middle-grade normative execution in terms of narrative that at times it almost seems to be ironic, and where it released by any other company than Disney I might be able to follow such a possibility.  Here, however, it is just in bad taste.

High School Musical begins in some bizarre space of a Christmas break resort, where the young Troy Bolton (Zac Efron) finds himself more occupied with spending time with his dad and school basketball coach Jack Bolton (Bart Johnson) than taking in the festivities created for him and the others at the resort.  At the prodding of his mother, he agrees to attend a social for teenagers, where he is forced to sing karaoke alongside Gabrielle Montez (Vanessa Hudgens).  The two, despite their initial nervousness, hit it off and find themselves exchanging numbers, only to lose each other in the crowd of New Years partiers.  When Troy returns to school the following week, he discovers his basketball teams, most notably Chad (Corbin Bleu) in place, alongside his admirer and school drama star Sharpay Evans (Ashley Tisdale) in line to engage in another normal year of school, with Troy as star basketball player and Sharpay as theatrical ingenue.  Yet, when Troy turns in class to discover Gabrielle in attendance he is immediately exited, realizing that it is his opportunity to rekindle their burgeoning interest from the break, a stroke a fate too great to pass up.  Both concerned with their ability to fit in under varied demands, Troy remaining a symbol of athletic prowess and Gabrielle navigating between being welcomed and avoiding becoming the brainiac girl, the two coalesce on auditioning for the drama departments annual musical, much to the confusion of the faux-erudite drama teacher Ms. Darbus (Alyson Reed).  The confusion is quickly removed when the two sing and all in attendance realize their skill, particularly the apprehensive Sharpay and her performance partner, sibling Ryan (Lucas Grabeel).  Needless to say sabotage becomes a thing of necessity as not only do the Evans siblings see the danger in their success, Chad and leader of the academic team Taylor McKessie (Monique Coleman) also want to quash their dreams, hoping that by doing so their respective organizations will succeed. After tricking the two into stepping down, the guilt proves to great and they manage to fix the status of both the big game and academic match to afford the two auditioning time, much to the pleasure of the entire school.  In the end the two rekindle their romance and a few other heteronormative pairings happen as a result.

This movie is half-concieved.  Hell, I would even go so far a to say that it was lacking in any sort of conceptual understanding of narrative gaps at all.  There are moments of contradiction in this film that just seem absolutely wrong to the point of being frustrating.  Set in the most nondescript of places Albuquerque, New Mexico, High School Musical pushes to create a space where all persons are represented.  Indeed, this is a rather normal trope in regards to the high school film, but it is also used in a much more knowing irony in say a John Hughes movie, or definitely so in Clueless. Here it is solely a result of a group of producers thinking they could profit hugely from creating a piece of young adult media that could be consumed by all.  However, the only people who would buy such malarky would have to be from upper-middle class status, although in such a situation as to believe that they are still situated within a lower class identity.  High School Musical, in fact, suffers most from its seeming willingness to embrace a society where all persons are on an equal financial footing.    Take for example, Troy's dad and his emphasis on the financial burden which will be removed from their family if he were to gain a scholarship.  The amount of escapist idealism here is treated with the same sense of urgency at play in the deeply moving and socially troubling documentary Hoop Dreams.  Were it to be a narrative where Troy was clearly from an impoverished family this would be less complicated morally, but it is worth remembering that the film begins with he and his family at a winter resort, in which money is clearly necessary to obtain.  If this were not enough, however, the fact that Troy is able to also play basketball on a regulation size court in his own backyard is a rather huge advantage and one that is afforded to a person of considerable wealth.  This is all layered on top of a reality where the students at this school are privileged with the funds to have a drama, sports and academic department that are fully funded and capable of pulling together full teams with the newest equipment and resources.  Without rambling further, High School Musical suffers most from its refusal to acknowledge the privilege within which it situations its narrative.

Key Scene:  ...ummm, there is a line that Coach Bolton delivers that is nearly inaudible, I guess it is my favorite part of the film.

Avoid this film, I watched it so you do not have to, instead, go watch a Busby Berkeley musical.  Also Zac Efron has the stupidest faces in this movie.

I Must Remember This Feeling And Use It In My Acting: Fame (1980)

Grandstanding and bombastic line delivery seem almost too inextricably tied to the musical to be a thing that I find issue with.  However, this is an attachment that almost exclusively works in the context of Classical Hollywood musicals and becomes less necessary the farther into contemporary film one gets.  More so, when a film clearly makes it a point to embrace a low-budget, intimate look at a inner-city life one ravished with poverty and immobility the grandstanding can become somewhat more troublesome.  Fame, the cult musical from Alan Parker does suffer considerably from this very over-the-top nature, but in some ways it is rather acceptable considering that it intends to look at a space where people are constantly performing for the sake of self-identity as well as for their future livelihood.  Fame works in some was primarily because it takes no shame in going big with its ideas, while juxtaposing them against the stripped away veneer of a rundown, but, undoubtedly, prestigious fine arts school. Indeed, while it does possess enough musical numbers to warrant it being placed within the genre, it far more something in line with the coming of age tale, wherein, a group of awkward kids come to learn about sex, lies and the trouble of access in a harsh world.  This sort of scathing look at growing up would appear ill-conceived and somewhat troublesome, but it manages to approach the issues with some degree of earnestness, only going too far on a few occasions, allowing for characters to exist in nearly possible moments only to allow their character to take on narrative layering.  Indeed, while the film does clock in at over two hours, it still feels as though it is missing some elements, almost as though characters backstories were cut out in favor of focusing on two singular experiences making certain portions come off as slightly exploitative.  While not completely unwatchable and certainly better than some of the musicals I have encountered this month, Fame, nonetheless, does become underwhelming during its closing sequence one that is assumed to carry a heavy emotional investment, but like its cutting to credits merely stops not attaining anything deserved of next level film admiration.

Fame focuses rather sporadically, albeit in a linear fashion, on the experiences of a group of students attending the New York High School for the Performing Arts, first beginning with auditions, where the various instructors of dance, theater and music are subjected to both profoundly moving and outright awful performances, while also establishing the importance of various characters, whether it be the accidental dancer Leroy (Gene Anthony Ray) or synth rock prodigy Bruno (Lee Curreri) and his expansive keyboard set up.  The students all begin by claiming their desires to be in the unique setting, many noting their particular financial limitations.  As the narrative moves into Freshman year the narrative focuses in on the experiences of two students in particular, the wide-eyed and constantly evolving Doris (Maureen Teefy) and South Bronx native turned aspiring stand-up comedian Ralph (Barry Miller).  While they do possess a mutual friend in Montgomery (Paul McCrane) his own struggles with embracing his homosexual identity lead to him stepping away from the narrative.  As the students move through Sophomore and Junior years, Leroy is confronted with a classroom setting where his lower class, black identity becomes a thing of confusion and fear for his English teacher, who finds it necessary to constantly bemoan his indifference in class, even calling him out for his inability to read at one point in time.  Bruno comes under fire by his orchestra teacher Mr. Shorofsky (Albert Hague) for a disagreement on the nature of Mozart in a contemporary setting and Doris and Ralph, after an initial romantic fling, have a falling out when Ralph's drinking and unhealthy bar life become a thing of trouble.  Other members of the school both current and former come to discover the ways in which the industry, particularly, acting on screen proves limiting and threatening, particularly for one young girl named Coco (Irene Cara) whose foolish belief that she could star in European art house films is quickly shattered when she attends a screen test.  However, upon graduation it appears as though all has come to fruition even in insane contexts, allowing the entirety of the class to somberly and sentimentally reflect on their past and look forward into the future.

The sort of brevity and briefness of most encounters in the film is decidedly frustrating.  I respect the film for attempting to navigate a rater wide scope of identities within the space of the performing arts, but it also does so with such faint brush strokes as to give off an heir of essentialism, wherein Leroy and his own struggles to move out of severe poverty speak to all identities within the urban African-American community, just as Montgomery comes to reflect the entirety of gay culture in what is essentially a monologue about said identity.  Fame seeks in what appears to be earnestness to tackle these issues, without realizing that a mere mention is often far more fatal than an actual singular focus.  Sure it is great that the film wants to paint such a complete picture, but it also means a complete loss in depth to the film, which helps to explain my earlier complaint that by the closing of the film the resolution carries little to no emotional investment because there is nothing within which for the viewer to ground their experience.  Sure Montgomery is relatable, but his portion of the film accounts for maybe two percent of the narrative and aside from the overplayed moment of Leroy struggling to read next to a fire barrel under a bridge nothing affords the viewer a reason to relate to him, instead only being able to pull from his confrontational attitude in other moments throughout the film.  Interstingly, the film almost seems to lean on the power of the teachers in the film, whether it be Leeroy's stern English teacher, who appears to receive more narrative leeway than the homeless Leroy, or the manner with which the stuffy Mr. Shorofsky still proves to be "correct" about the nature of classical music, despite completely rejecting the possibility that Bruno's music could attain any success, an assumption that is negated by the success of Coco and Bruno when performing.  If any figure actually achieves respect that is not a student it comes in the way of Bruno's father Angelo (Eddie Barth) who is wholly supportive of his son's musical aspirations both emotionally and financially, although this is even tenuous as he constantly calls attention to his sacrifice.  It is a film that wants so desperately to show the layers and varieties of struggling that it is at once spread too far and too thin to prove evocative.

Key Scene:  The construction of the scene when Ralph reflects on his violent father in the neon-light lit apartment is poetic and while the acting and narrative might be a bit lacking, it is washed over with the soft red in such a way to allow it to be decidedly moving.

This is easily a rental option, although it might be more worth your time to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show which is actually shown at considerable length during one sequence.

Some Boys Run Away, But I Wouldn't Advise It: The Devil's Backbone (2001)

Including a Guillermo del Toro film in a month of horror films is almost a giving, considering that despite his movement through a few different genres, he manages to perfectly entrench himself within the horror film tropes, often using them in wildly inventive and engaging ways both in terms of pulling from a classical understanding of Gothic style horror, while also infusing it with his own understanding of the supernatural as it emerges within Mexican culture.  Indeed, at this point one can even begin considering the particularly auteur elements of del Toro since it is possible to pick up visual and narrative themes between something like Cronos and his much larger, yet equally engaging Pacific Rim.  Furthermore, I had all but convinced myself that del Toro's masterpiece was Pan's Labyrinth one of my earliest emerging cinephile experiences, and quite possibly the work that pushed me into an understanding that film could be something much larger than the traditional three act structure and move a viewer towards a more profound understanding of the themes at work.  I was, as such, surprised when The Devil's Backbone, his 2001 offering began to unfold in front of my eyes, because what I was viewing was not only excellent, creepy and indicative of all things praised aside del Toro's name, but it was miles ahead of the stunning and near perfect Pan's Labyrinth.  In this film, which doubles as a consideration of the Spanish American War through a paranormal metaphor and orphanage setting, becomes a clearly sentimental, albeit in a somewhat unsettling way, film that possesses a view of the world that could only exist through the eyes of somebody who understands the innocence and, at times, ignorance of youth.  Yet, del Toro realizes that his films are not at all intended for a young audience, although I am sure he revels in the thought of them encountering their oneiric, surreal feel, thus fusing his films with a high degree of psycho-sexual tension, doubled in wild ways through the steam punk world he has come to embrace.  This particular composition never allows for viewers to feel a sense of safety, despite it being a visually sumptuous film, often inserting the presence of spectral figures with no warning or non-diagetic cue, to del Toro, the other side of perception is constantly present and to awake to its intrigue and possible threats would be enough to drive a movie comfortably, the fact that there is also a well-developed and engaging storyline is yet another factor speaking to the proficiency of del Toro as a filmmaker.

The Devil's Backbone focuses on the existence of a minimally ran orphanage for boys during the Spanish Civil War, one that exists purely out of the goodwill of its founders Casares (Federico Luppi) and Carmen (Marisa Paredes).  Growing considerably in age, both Casares and Carmen rely on the help of their groundskeeper Jacinto (Eduardo Noriega), as well as his romantic love interest a teacher at the orphanage named Conchita (Irene Visedo).  The boys at the orphanage seem quite content to go about their lives in a rather desultory manner, despite their limited space, always minding the presence of a ghost they purport to exist.  Indeed, when a new child arrives named Carlos (Fernando Tieve) they make sure to bully and haze him into encountering the presence of the ghost named Santi, although they are unaware that the hyper-prescient Carlos noticed the ghost the moment he arrive at the orphanage, marked by its unique possession of a defused bomb sitting in the center of its courtyard.  Despite an initial confrontation with the orphanage bully Jaime (Inigo Garces) Carlos is able to befriend him through proving his trustworthy nature, while also showing a genuine interest in the whereabouts of Santi and precisely what led to his disappearance, or as Carlos and Jaime assume demise.  Meanwhile, it is revealed that Jacinto and Carmen have been in cohorts, the decidedly younger groundskeeper engaging in sexual acts with the disabled Carmen in exchange for the promise of sharing in the large amount of gold stashed away in the orphanage's safe.  This all happens as the Spanish Civil War slowly begins to encroach upon the space of the orphanage, causing paranoia amongst the children, as well as Carmen and Jacinto who see their wealth becoming threatened by the invasion of greedy soldiers.  Furthermore, during a confessional moment on the aprt of Jaime, Carlos discovers that Jacinto is actually the one responsible for the death of Santi, attacking him when he is caught rifling through the safe by Santi who had been spending the evening catching slugs with Jaime.  This leads to an act of vengeance that is jointly executed by the young boys of the orphanage and Santi's spectral presence, but not before the destruction of the orphanage by a vengeful Jacinto.  Yet, considering that Santi proves to be far from the only ghost in the space of the orphanage, the group is able to overpower Jacinto and leave the orphanage to engage in a quest all their own, clearly grown from the experience.

A lot of things could be stated about del Toro movies, doubly so when he clearly situates them within such an event as the Spanish Civil War.  As such, perhaps the most obvious way to consider this film is to look at the way trauma affects a persons bodied identity, especially intriguing within the context of the film being about paranormal presences.  Carlos and the fellow boys at the orphanage reflect a group of children suffering from abandonment, some by their parents choice, while others were drawn to the space when their parents died in the violence of the war.  Not having a means with which to speak to their anxiety and pains of loss, they work actively to reject any sense of oppressive forces or authoritative figures occurring, whether it be through embodying silence in face of authority figures, or acting out violently against one another, whom they deem equal enough to fight, a survival of the fittest mentality kicking in, not because they are animalistic, but because they only understand individualistic survival they faced after loss and abandonment.  Gender embodies itself far more fascinatingly through a figure like Carmen, who herself has become a victim of amputation, although the narrative is far less specific in how this occurred.  What is made clear through her character is the way in which her lack has caused her to feel considerably less worthy as a woman, doubled by her age in relation to Conchita, with whom Jacinto is romantically involved.  Realizing that her power is fading, Carmen asserts power through the incorporation of money and its power, accepting her advancement and bodily privilege must be bought, nevermind that she hides the gold in her already heavy prosthetic leg, the castration element to this metaphor becoming wildly clear.  Ultimately though, the most interesting character is the spectral figure of Santi, whose association with the deformity known as "devil's backbone" causes his already paranormal spatial existence to become a thing of impossibility.  By causing him to be a figure floating through the world, doubled by his blood constantly flowing and rising upward with an airy quality, del Toro infuses Santi, the same sort of wandering nature of the other boys in the orphanage, although where they seek survival and hesitation to bond with others, Santi only wants two things, to rekindle with his friends despite being bodily detached form doings so, while also exacting revenge on the threatening patriarchal figure of Jacinto.  The fact that del Toro adds on scenes of killing and execution happening in the war only make the narrative idea of body, identity and to a degree sacrifice that much more fascinating.

Key Scene:  Carlos' first lengthy encounter with Santi is something fresh and eerie in terms of paranormal horror cinema and del Toro executes it with perfection.

But the Criterion bluray for this film. It is absolutely mesmerizing.

It Was A Dream, But Not A Dream: My Neighbor Totoro (1988)

This is yet another example of where pulling a quote into the title of my blog post also happens to reflect my feelings for the film on the whole.  My Neighbor Totoro, was perhaps the biggest blip on my "never seen" shame list, because having already encountered countless other Miyazaki films and being made constantly aware of this as a masterpiece, I was constantly putting it on the back burner, figuring that I would eventually get around to its viewing.  When it spent a year or so in a bizarre bluray upgrade limbo (at the time region free was not a viable option), I just sat hoping that it would magically appear in my lap at some point.  When the powerful of arm of Disney used its extension of Studio Ghibli to release this on bluray earlier this year, I knew that it had to be obtained, because much like all the decent stuff Disney releases, it is usually lacking in a wider audience, therefore resulting in it falling into limited print obscurity, a few copies being secretly passed amongst friends, or one would assume this to be the case with something like David Lynch's The Straight Story.  All of this is an aside of sorts to say that I finally caught up with My Neighbor Totoro, a work so heavily hyped and made to be something otherworldly that my expectations were nearly impossible, which I feared would result in a general hesitation to embrace the film.  Yet, when the film began to unfold in front of me I realized that the wonder that made Miyazaki's career was as present as ever, almost in a wildly subtle way, wherein, the magical realist elements that have become signifiers of his oeuvre creep into the narrative, as opposed to exploding into action as occurs in something like Spirited Away or Howl's Moving Castle.  Furthermore, never one to shy away from the tragedies in life, the threat of loss and the forced moments of youth being confronted with adulthood are at their most entrenched within this film, and for a filmmaker whose entire career has become predicated on breaking from realism, excluding his writing of the most recent From Up on Poppy Hill, My Neighbor Totoro, might well have one of the most hauntingly real of moments, so poetically executed, as to take on a surreal quality indicative of the hyper-tragic Grave of Fireflies.

My Neighbor Totoro, focuses on the experiences of two girls, the strong-willed, yet wide-eyed Satsuki and her younger sister the loud-mouthed but earnestly curious Mei.  The two girls are currently residing with their grandmother in the countryside, while their father moves too and from Tokyo for work, the reason for their needing to stay away is predicated upon their mother being hospitalized for an unnamed illness.  As such, the two spend many of their weekends traveling to visit her and awaiting the return of their father from work each day.  Of course, given that they moments, as well as attending school, only consume so much of their day-to-day activities, Satsuki and Mei spend their time traveling through the woods and meadows of the rural town.  It is during one of these trips that Satsuki and Mei meet a giant cat-like creature that Mei refers to as a mispronunciation of troll, therefore becoming known as Totoro.  This creature begins to appear intermittently during Satsuki and Mei's endeavors, often showing up in moments of trouble or fear as a means to put them at ease, for example, a large Totoro spends time awaiting the arrival of their father who is late from work, even providing them with a small gift of acorns and nuts which they plant in their yard.  These acorns lead to a gigantic tree growing in their yard, wherein Totoro and his various smaller forms take Satsuki and Mei on a wild flight through rural Japan.  When the girls awake the next day they realize it has been a dream, but also notice that the seeds have still sprouted, leading them to believe that the magic of Totoro might actually exist.  When Satsuki receives news that their mother has fallen ill, yet again, with a cold her and Mei panic, attempting to contact their father, who tells them to be patient until he can obtain more information.  Mei, unfortunatley, is incapable of grasping the necessity of patience and takes it upon herself to travel to the hospital, getting lost and become a cause for concern in the entire village.  Satsuki in a moment of desperation tracks down Totoro and uses his magical cat bus to find Mei and then visit their mother, although they do so from outside the window, leaving her a gift in the hopes of it leading to her quick recovery.  This act, assumedly works, or at least the closing credits animations would suggest as much.

Coming of age tales are often dealt with in a hyper-sentimental manner, leaning heavily on everything being perfect and avoiding the very real fact that for most people, growing up is tied to a point of fear or moment of tragedy.  Perhaps the best example of this working, while also being highly sentimental would be the lost love sequence of Summer of '42.  I would posit that Miyazaki also does this as a filmmaker, using the magical realist elements of his film to ease the heavy blow of tragedy, while also showing that necessitates growing older.  Totoro and the escapism it provides to the girls is also paired with Satsuki coming to realize that his escapist qualities do not factor into her mother suddenly becoming healthy.  Indeed, if anything Totoro is more a projection on the part of Satsuki to help maintain Mei's sense of wonder with the world, because Satsuki has her own moment of tragic awakening, when she realizes that her mother "having colds" indicates a white lie being propagated by adults to tell the two girls that their mother is sick, but not entirely playing into how truly troublesome her health might well be.  When Satsuki confronts an adult about his lie, they can offer nothing more than a defeated sigh, for they acknowledge the loss of innocence occurring, something that will never fully be the same.  Of course, Miyazaki realizes that the truly happy individual can still retain moments of innocence late into their life, pulling from it at moments of happiness, or as is the case with Mei and Satsuki's father, to help young persons understand the curiosities of the world, as is clear in the dust bunny discussion early in the film.  It is in moments like this were white lies are more fun stories in replacement of detailed scientific explanations which would be of little interest to a young person.  Yet, the most wonderful moment of magical realist escapism emerges when Satsuki and Mei's mother swears she sees her two daughters laughing outside her window, a moment that the viewers assume to be real, however, as their father suggests is only possible through the magical gift of the corn.  In this stroke of genius and subversive non-linear narrative, one can read the message as the father playing into the same "wonder in the world" rhetoric he uses when talking with his daughter as a means to ease the suffering of an ailing spouse.  To Miyazaki, tragedy is a reality, but it is also something that can be softened by a light-hearted and curious view of the world, because no all has to be heartbreaking, particularly when giant fluffy trolls can serve as emotional companions.

Key Scene:  The sandal floating in the water is stark, jarring and surreal and perhaps one of the single darkest frames in all of Miyazaki's oeuvre.

Buy this bluray.  Buy your friends this bluray.  Buy everyone this bluray.

Sweep The Leg: The Karate Kid (1984)

Sweep the mother fucking leg!  I could have pulled a ton of quotes from this film and incorporated them into the title, because I had not really realized how much of the iconic catch phrases of the 80's were lifted from this film, perhaps one of the most eighties of all films.  Between its language, style and general penchant for the excessive, The Karate Kid is everything I have come to expect from a classic genre film, particularly one that incorporates a distinct coming of age narrative.  It is also yet another reminder that when it comes to films involving kung fu and/or ninjas that are also set in the eighties, it is easiest to distinguish the good guys from those who are bad, in that the villains always possess motorcycles, while seeming to lack any piece of clothing that includes sleeves.  Also, The Karate Kid is the rare movie that manages to exude such a self-awareness about its eventual datedness and place as immediate nostalgia that some of the more pseudo-racist and narratively problematic through lines are present, but capable of being overlooked.  In fact, I would be willing to place The Karate Kid as one of the moments of before/after in 80's cinema, a time where simplicity, earnestness and stylistic over-exuberance trump cultural critique and the lavish as a means of social critique.  Indeed, compare this and a work like Top Gun with later works from the same decade like Robocop or Pretty in Pink and you will realize a sharp contrast in seriousness of subject matter, even in regards to genre works or coming of age tales.  While I know that a lot of this can be chalked up to simple escapist cinema and a changing landscape in the rise of independent cinema, but I would also extend the consideration that much of The Karate Kid narrative feeds into the hyper-idealisim of a Reagan era America where even the most impoverished of persons can pull themselves up by their boot straps and contest the greatest of foes, despite being cheated and denied equal class access.  Indeed, The Karate Kid depicts a world where its main character gets fortunate break after fortunate break, thus allowing him to move outside of his class othering at such an instantaneous rate that it would appears as though Reagan's misguided assumption about trickling down economic benefits did indeed reach one of the lowest rungs.  This idea failed in reality, but certainly seemed quite plausible in the narrative of The Karate Kid.

The Karate Kid begins with Daniel Larusso (Ralph Macchio) and his mother Lucille (Randee Heller) making the long trek from New Jersey to California, Lucille believing that by taking herself and her son to a completely new space that they will both be able to prosper in the wake of what the film suggests to be an unfortunate past with her spouse.  Daniel is incredibly reluctant to embrace the new space, particularly since California is decidedly different from his close-knit New Jersey block, although, he lucks out in getting invited to a beach party on his first day in the town.  It is during this party that he meets Ali Mills (Elisabeth Shue) a wealthy girl who seems to take a liking to Daniel for his earnest, down-to-earth attitude.  Yet, it is also during this night that he meets a group of biker kids whose ties to the infamous Cobra Kai dojo have made them into maniacal karate experts whose ruthless attitudes make fighting them a less than stellar affair.  The Cobra Kai's leader is Johnny Lawrence (William Zabka) whose previous relationship with Ali, causes him to immediately dislike Daniel and attack him in a push to establish his authority.  After being beaten up, Daniel returns home, and in an attempt to hide his bruises from Lucille instead gives away his secret, causing her to express concern, although she cannot exact the effort she would like considering that she is busy working to make their lives in California sustainable.  At this point, Daniel meets the apartment complex's maintenance manager Mr. Miyagi (Pat Morita) who admits to knowing karate, although he is hesitant to teach it to Daniel who he thinks only want to use it to pick fights, however, Miyagi does take Daniel under his wing, seeing that he is lacking a consistent parental figure.  During the night of a dance at his school, Daniel is attacked by a group of students from the Cobra Kai school, at which point Miyagi defends the young man and in the process realizes the seriousness of his situation and after confronting the dojo leader, suggest that Daniel and Johnny meet in the the regional martial arts tournament.  At this point Daniel's training is more intense and his relationship with Ali evolves, after a minor setback.  On the day of the tournament, Daniel's training pays off, although he learns in the process that it often takes overcoming cheating, physical and mental adversity and occasionally changing a course of action to complete a task successfully.

I should preface this paragraph by saying that I fully understand that The Karate Kid is made for a particular audience of youth and that it serves primarily an escapist function.  Yet I also want to note that intended audience/level of cultural popularity has never stopped me from over analyzing a film before, nor will it now.  Indeed, after I finish this post I intend to wildly throw some theory to a rather popular contemporary film trilogy in hopes of publication.  However, I digress.  I want, to posit that The Karate Kid is very much a film that suggest that class is something that can be transcended by the graciousness of those with privilege passing their wealth downward to those without.  Indeed, Daniel and his mom are clearly to be of a working class status in the opening moments of the film, when they arrive to California and are located in a run down apartment complex that boasts a pool barely containing any water, which of what is available is grossly stagnant.  Furthermore, Lucille must play into the gimmick of moving up through lower level management by "taking classes" as a means to succeed economically, when much of this requires her to sacrifice the possibility of making money, because she must spend what ever extra earning she makes to pursue these endeavors.  The signifier for Daniel's poverty then becomes his bike, which is mocked and destroyed by Johnny and his friends whose privilege drives them to destroy his poverty merely out of humor and out of a jealously that he could attain one of their points of status in Ali.  The really bizarre thing about the film, and the way in which it affirms a Reagan idea of trickle down economics is that when Daniel is in the presence of Ali he is suddenly in possession of money, most notably in the lunch scene where he retrieves enough money to pay for both of their meals, despite being clearly lacking in earlier moments.  Furthermore, Mr. Miyagi, while primarily a sensei to Daniel, seems to also be a point where money/property passes towards Daniel, in his case fixing his bike signifier to be less poor looking and eventually replacing it with a classic car.  These gifts are an implausible thing to most people of a lower class space, but this is one of the faults of trickle down economics, is that such occurrences are suggested to be quite frequent. It is worth acknowledging Miyagi's identity as other, but that is not the reading I am going for so it shall not be elaborated upon.  Daniel's class thus becomes less and less evident to the point that once he arrives at the tournament he is destined to win, attaining a golden trophy, perhaps a signifier of wealth, or a false idol intended to provide him a delusion of access to that which his lower class status will probably never officially attain.

Key Scene:  SWEEP THE LEG!

This is a fine film considering its dated 80's nature.  However, when approaching it be aware that its dated features also come with some problematic depictions of Mr. Miyagi as an Oriental body.  Other than that feel free to buy this, although renting is the route I would go.

This Is The Most Spiritual Place I've Ever Been: Spring Breakers (2013)

I finished watching this film roughly an hour or so ago and while I am rarely one to immediately follow up a viewing with a blog post, I could not wait to talk about this, Harmony Korine's latest film.  I had intended to catch up with this while it was making the rounds in theaters, but life got in the way and I am not only getting to it in its home video format.  I am rather happy that this was the case, because from what I can glean, not only has this been reviled by the popular cinema goer, it too has received less than stellar reviews critically, both of which are absolutely baffling to me.  Sure it is a visceral and highly sexual account if one existed, but what Korine provides is nothing more than an hour and some change of MTV-like, auto-tuned cinema.  I say that I am glad for the home release option, because I am almost certain that a considerable amount of people went into this film expecting one product and were baffled, disturbed and even forced to deal with some seriously repressed issues, also I will openly admit that when viewing the works of Korine I often find myself uncomfortable when other people are around, because his style of cinema is decidedly disconcerting, while completely throwing all sense of political correctness or decency to the wind.  Yet, just as he does in all of his other films, Korine takes moments of utter depravity that are intended to alienate the viewer and cleverly layers on an element of the serene, often juxtaposing the two to create a moment of transcendence before delving directly back into the decadence and madness of his world.  It is perhaps most jarring in something like Trashhumpers!, but certainly occurs with Spring Breakers to a near Mallick level.  I mean only Harmony Korine could have the vision and subsequent pull to get Cliff Martinez and Skrillex to jointly score his film.  This movie looks and feels as though it is from another world completely and much of this has to do with Korine existing in his own place all the time (refer to any interview to realize this fact).  I am uncertain whether or not the product Korine provides viewers with is intended as biting condemnation of a detached youth, or a serious consideration of the tragedies of coming-of-age in a world that exists as a series of cursory experiences.  What I do know is that I reacted to it with awe and bewilderment, to the point that it currently stands as my favorite film of the year.  Also, James Franco.  He needs at least and Oscar nod for this film.

Spring Breakers focuses on a group of college girls whose main focus in life is to attain enough money to make a trip to Florida and engage in the wild week of Spring Break.  knowing that it cost a considerable amount of money in order to assure success the group preys upon their religiously devout friend Faith (Selena Gomez) with the hope that given her wealth they can attain enough funding for travel.  However, when it is apparent that the money is far from enough the other three members of the clique Candy (Vanessa Hudgens), Brittany (Ashley Benson) and Cotty (Rachel Korine) undertake a robbery of a local chicken joint to obtain the money necessary for bus fair for all four.  After successfully getting to St. Petersburg the girls immediately fall into the debasing and foolish lifestyle of the world around them, involving heavy drinking, sex and drug use.  Indeed, it is during a run-in with a group of cocaine dealers that the four are arrested and locked up.  The judge provides them with the option of a citation should they be able to pay their fine.  The girls incapable of forking over the money necessary are helped by the enigmatic Alien (James Franco) a white, self-identified hustler, whose cornrows and various tattoos are only one of many absurdities reflective of his being one of the only white guys growing up in the area.  Embracing a lifestyle of decadent indifference, Alien takes the girls around St. Petersburg to underground clubs and pool halls, eventually proving too much for Faith who returns home realizing that this life is not what she had hoped to have.  When one of Alien's former friends turned rival Big Arch (Gucci Mayne) threatens to kill Alien should he not step away from his drug spots and money sources, things take a turn for the worst, when Cotty is eventually shot in the arm, leading then to her return home.  The last two girls then engage in a wild relationship with Alian, wherein they become a trio of soul mates who are bent on revenge against Big Arch.  This endeavor then closes the film as the three attack Big Arch's well-guarded mansion, only to have Alien shot down by the first guard.  Nonetheless, Brittany and Candy make it all the way to Big Arch, killing him in his jacuzzi tub and driving off in Alien's car, assumedly to continue living in the world of spring break forever.

The most rewarding thing about Korine's neon-induced visual assault, is that it does not seem to provide a decided consideration one way or the other about the ethical nature of the characters involved in the film.  Sure figures like Big Arch and Faith's goateed hip pastor are played to be considerably more negative than others, but even then it is only relational to the desires of other characters.  Take for example Faith, who it would appear exists as a spiritually sound figure in relation to her more mischievous friends, yet when she is in the same situations she does not negate their ethical choices, but becomes involved in them by her de facto presence.  Similarly, a figure like Cotty, is shot while engaging in the wily ways of Alien and company, and while she certainly could have avoided the situation by removing herself earlier, she is arguably not deserving of the gun shot wound she receives for Alien's refusal to listen to Big Arch's warnings.  That leaves one considering the figure of Alien who seems so caught up in the disillusion of his own aspirations to be a rapper and hustler that he denies the reality around him, although, as Korine's narrative suggests, given his decided otherness based on the racial composition of the era, it is rather clear that he has spent a considerable amount of his life pretending to be something he is not, so much so that he has created a world around him that makes him believe himself to be invincible.  As he notes he has everything from fancy cologne to shurikens, all clearly attempts to assert tangible realities to his grand delusion.  Franco plays Alien to perfection, by occasionally allowing his stare to become despondent or to allow a pause to linger for hesitation.  Of course, viewers realize how superfluous all of Alien's hopes are when he is instantly gunned down in the raid of Big Arch's mansion, and only glanced upon once more when one of the remaining girls kisses him through her My Little Pony ski mask.  The film embraces its shades of uncertainty and Korine knows for this to truly work he has to break away from a visually normative style, often repeating scenes or matching dialogue to moments that have yet to occur.  The simulacrum of St. Petersburg that is fueled by neon, blunt smoke and Jack Daniels has to look saturated and sickeningly fake, because it is in these sorts of delusions that right and wrong become indistinguishable and hopes of escaping a reality, move quickly from a dream to a even more real nightmare.

Key Scene:  I have noted that my most anticipated moment of cinema in 2013 was to be James Franco fellating a uzi and it did not disappoint.  Although a well-placed use of a Britney Spears song certainly gave it a run for its money, although to be fair it might have been the least ironic use of one of her songs in all of cinema.

Nab this bluray, it is easily one of the best films of the year.  Ignore the IMDB rating it is a lie.

The Blackness Of My Belt Is Like The Inside Of A Coffin: Beverly Hills Ninja (1997)

It was only a matter of time before I came across a movie during this marathon that I had a less than stellar reaction towards.  Which is fortunate because I was beginning to form a rather intense bond to the genre and as it stands I am far too invested in a ton of different films movements, genres and eras to afford picking up another.  Of course, the movie in question is Beverly Hills Ninja so maybe it is a bit unfair to let it speak to a bad moment within the genre, because at face value it is indeed just a comedy that happens to involve ninjas, who occasionally engage in martial arts.  Yet, knowing that I had never encountered the film prior and had a great experience with Tommy Boy, I figured given my liberal consideration of genre that it would be a perfect movie to include.  Tragically, where it could have benefitted from the slapstick comedy of Chris Farley or the entrenchment within the martial arts genre the film cowers away, only marginally exploring the various themes or tropes, whereas it feels far more inclined to spend excessive amounts of time exploring the woes and absurdity of Beverly Hills decadence.  Sure these moments are funny, but they are also a rehashing of jokes and observations that had already occurred to great excess in films like Clueless.  Indeed, where other parodies would succeed in perfect respect to the genre through clever revisionism, Beverly Hills Ninja only uses the themes to skirt over vague considerations of the style and tropes, ultimately, failing to even capture the vaguest of humor or pertinence.  Trust me, I wanted Beverly Hill Ninja to be a great film, I am on a constant quest to find a handful of nineties comedies that can create a cap in my understanding of its evolution, but this simply was not one worth including.  The name Dennis Dugan has come to be a black mark on Hollywood comedies as of late, and deservedly so, because he and Adam Sandler have clearly stopped trying, but there was a time when films like Billy Madison defined the eras comedic output.  With this in mind, Beverly Hills Ninja stands as the perfect middle ground between Dugan's early work and the complete nonsense that he now releases.  It is neither a bad film, nor is it particularly great.  Instead, it is so run-of-the-mill as to be understandably forgotten.

The narrative of Beverly Hills Ninja begins much as any kung fu/martial arts film does by introducing a mysterious dojo hiding in the mountains of Japan.  The clan of ninjas are foretold of the coming of a white baby who will prove to be the greatest ninja their dojo has ever seen, a prophecy that rings true when a large white baby floats onto their beach via a chest, causing great hope and admiration amongst the clan.  However, as years pass it becomes evident that the boy is far from the expert ninja the prophecy suggested.  Indeed Haru (Chris Farley) is the epitome of everything that is not ninja-like, whether it be his inability to wield a weapon without either hurting himself or an ally, or his general lack of stealthiness due to his considerable weight.  Of course, he is still fondly loved by the members of his clan, although when it comes time to appoint the ninjas with their respective garb, Haru is passed over due to his lack of skill and is instead placed on duty to guard the dojo.  This task immediately brings him into contact with Sally Jones (Nicollette Sheridan), who hopes to hire the ninjas to discover why her boyfriend Martin (Nathaniel Parker) has suddenly taken to disappearing for great lengths of time.  With the "help" of Haru, Sally discovers that Martin is indeed involved in a large counterfeiting scheme one he is willing to kill for without hesitation.  The murder, however, leads to trouble with the clan who are suspected of being involved, nonetheless, Haru takes it upon himself to engage in the quest to help Sally, who later  reveals the name to be an alias.  Realizing that Haru will certainly face an  imminent death if he is not protected, Haru's master sends his best ninja Nobu (Keith Cooke Hirabayashi) to serve as a guardian angel of sorts, one that looks out for Haru but never makes his presence known.  Eventually, Haru makes it to Beverly Hills where the culture is considerably different from that of his clan's world, in that many people are expressly mean or dismissive of his presence, until he reveals himself to be quite wealthy.  Along the way Haru also befriends a young bellhop named Joey (Chris Rock) who also wants to be a ninja.  Eventually, with the help of his master and a revealing of the aid of Nobu, Haru tracks down Martin and his gang, after diffusing bombs and fighting off various guards.  As such, Haru returns to his clan having fulfilled the prophecy, even if in the most indirect of manners.

I guess I can attempt to glean some various points of critical theory out of this film, but it got rather tough to watch after awhile as I realized the film, despite being eighty odd minutes was dragging on incessantly.  One of the major elements in the film that I did enjoy in regards to social commentary was the notion that race could exist in some space beyond pigmentation or physical identifiers, in so much as Haru is treated as an Asian person in Beverly Hills based on his clothing, as opposed to his skin tone.  This is most evident when he is dealing with the attendant at the hotel desk who assumes that he will be paying in something aside form American money, or any form of Asian currency.  However, these themes falter and indeed are betrayed when Haru's race is called into question, particularly when those dismissive of his ninja abilities ask questions like "aren't ninjas supposed to be Asian?"  This question while absurd does call attention to essentializing culture, which is one of the more pertinent themes in the film and probably where it is strongest narratively.    It suggest that Western influences are almost entirely at blame for such stereotypes, showing that in a place like Beverly Hills there is only one type of way to live, involving blonde hair and sports cars, a culture that exploits people like Joey to allow for a guise of perfection.  The scene where this essentialist issue comes to the forefront is when Haru, attempting to spy on Martin and one of his business partners, dresses as a chef at a Japanese steakhouse, one indicative of a Benihana's, appropriating the over-the-top mannerisms of the cooking art to a slapstick degree.  His outfit, however, is some wild combination of an Italian chef and a Mongolian warrior, suggesting that such places of business are tapping into an Asianness that is not only archaic, but heavily infused with Western ideologies.  Furthermore, considering that Haru comes from a ninja clan with its own social mores and practices, the notion of a type of "Japaneseness" existing in a place of Western consumption is problematic, because it not only essentializes one country,  but even one group within that space.  The film also deals with some gender performance and layers of gaze, but they were probably accidental so it is not worth considering too heavily.

Key Scene:  Haru's montage of growing up as a ninja is pretty funny, but the film does not manage to keep the pace much longer.

Honestly I would avoid this film.  There are better Chris Farley movies, and there are certainly better martial arts comedies.