Hark! Jungle Sounds: Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? (1966)

I have seen a lot of films that could be describe as brutal, whether it be the commentary on fascist oppression through sexual violence in Passolini's Salo, or the biting commentary on middle American economic entrapment through the humping of trash, in Harmony Korine's eponymous Trash Humpers.  Yet, never would I have imagined that one of my most viscerally challenging and jarringly brutal cinematic experiences would ever come in the way of a film starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.  However, I can say with high degrees of certainty that Who's Afraid of Viriginia Woolf? is by far one of the most challenging, troubling and unsettling works of fiction ever realized.  That, of course, is not to say that I did not absolutely enjoy the film, but going into it somewhat blindly, I was not prepared for it to be so dark and liable to erupt in its own heated passion at a moments notice.  Indeed I had come to understand that the film was a classic, what I had not come to learn prior to viewing was just how much of an indictment it was to a certain class of American's in Sixties America, both young and old alike.  As the movie unfolded in front of me I had to do a bit of research to see why it was striking me in such a way, only to discover that it was directed by none other than Mike Nichol's whose well-regarded The Graduate is one of my favorite films, and knowing that I began drawing some through lines between moments within that work, as well as this one, not to mention other films by Nichols, his adaptation of Catch-22 coming to mind specifically.  What is perhaps the most amazing element of this film though is that it was critically, and to a degree, culturally well-received.  Usually movies with such an unsettling aesthetic fall the way of the films mentioned earlier, in that they end up only being appreciated by a handful of the artistically inclined or those in favor of politically and socially engaged counter-cinema.  Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? manages not only to exist as both of these things, but also proves to be a brilliantly acted, perfectly shot and might well break into discussions of the greatest film adaptations to date.  Despite clearly being a product of 1966, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is, undoubtedly, one of the most prolific pieces of cinema in the American consciousness.

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? centers on the life inside a small New England college, particularly focusing on the relationship between aged history professor George (Richard Burton) and his wife Martha (Elizabeth Taylor), who just happens to be the daughter of the college's president.  To describe the relationship between George and Martha as tense would be a decided understatement, particularly considering that both not only leap at one another's throats at the slightest hint of verbal dismissiveness, but once they have engaged in an argument stop at nothing to defile their individual self-respect.  Despite clearly being aware of their tense relationship, Martha, nonetheless, invites one of the new biology professors Nick (George Segal) and his wife Honey (Sandy Dennis) over for a nightcap at their house.  Upon arriving to the house Nick and Honey immediately discover the old couple in a heated argument, wherein they attempt to extract themselves, only to be coyly welcomed by George and Martha, who begin shoveling booze down the couples throat.  George and Martha in their particularly vindictive natures begin pulling and prodding at the couple using them as veritable chess pieces in their larger argument, one that appears to stem from a unseen son, who viewers, as well as Honey and Nick are led to believe exists somewhere in the world.  Furthermore, the young couple represent to George and Martha extensions of their own unsuccessful lives, Nick being the up-and-coming young professor whose desire to do well by his name will invariably lead to his being stuck in a dead end position at a college that refuses to value his presence.  To Martha, Honey represents her own latching to the idea of a career that is not her own, which takes on an added layer of frustration when she cannot fulfill a maternal desire to bare a child.  Thing throughout the late hours of the night always threaten to breach into violence, particularly when George and Nick begin to text one another's masculinity, yet after the group takes an unnecessary trip to a roadside bar things blow out of proportion, when upon their drunken return home, Martha and Nick attempt to engage in intercourse, only to have Nick fail due to his drunkenness.  This leads George into a level of fury that drives him to call to attention not only all of Nick's failures and his terrible future prospects, but the illusions that Martha has been living as well, all swirling back together regarding a traumatic story which George had shared earlier in the film.

While many a possibilities could emerge from critically reading a work like Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, it is worth seriously considering what makes it such a visceral and challenging movie going experience by breaking down exactly what choices Nichols makes as a director that allow for his film to be successful.  Considering that I am looking at it filmically, the dialogue, while a key factor in the nature of this film, is to be credited to the play's author Edward Albee, therefore, it will receive less acknowledgement.  Instead, one must begin by noting the way Nichol's situates the film in a seeming melodramatic setting, with an opening shot of a couple walking home while the idyllic swell of violins plays in the background.  Hearing and seeing this would lead one to assume that they are in for a romance of sorts, with its fair share of tragic moments, instead, one could argue you receive the exact opposite in the film, wherein the possibility, let alone plausibility, of a romantic bond between Martha and George is not posited until the absolute last shot of the film.  Another layer of the visceral nature of the film comes in the decided use of evasive close-ups and extreme angles, paired with intense lighting to make the characters seem far less ethereal and grand than they would in a more traditional melodrama.  Indeed, even the choice of black and white cinematography allows for icons like Burton and Taylor to become grotesque and void of any endearing or likable qualities.  Yet, what seems to be the most telling sign for the alienating qualities of this film come in its seemingly detached sense of time and space.  While Albee's play is set entirely within the confines of a house, Nichol's moves the action outside of the house and even into another building entirely, yet all of this seems to take place within a single moment, never really moving into the daybreak that is always threatening to end the maniacal performance put on by Martha and George.  It is as though they are navigating a feverish nightmare on par with Eraserhead, yet the hope to wake up seems far worse than the disconcerting reality.  Indeed, it is not until the inexplicable emergence of the sun in the closing moments of the film that any respite is afforded, but viewers feel, as the narrative clearly suggests, this is far from an end to the couple's larger angst and suffering.

Key Scene:  Umbrellas and guns.

As it stands there is not bluray for this film, I would suggest patiently holding out until this is not the case.  It is certainly worth seeing in the highest quality possible.

The Spider Web Drips With Water: The Day A Pig Fell Into The Well (1996)

Yet another Korean film and yet another piece of cinema I find myself enamored with.  While The Day a Pig Fell into the Well, manifests itself somewhat differently from many Korean films I have viewed, as well as those mentioned on the blog here, not because it is non-linear or multi-narrative, but because it is a work solely concerned within the tragic monotony of a few middle-class individuals in modern Seoul.  In that aspect, it is similar to other films I have seen in its fear and frustrations resulting from improper dealings with modernity, however, the better portion of this film just depicts a group of people failing on a large scale.  This is a poetic, highly sexual and incredibly watchable film, yet it is also a tragic film in which characters possess very few redemptive skills, lack the will to advance beyond their  insufferable existence and constantly cross behind each other back to engage in devious monetary mismanagements and a seemingly unending set of infidelities.  All that being said, director Hong Sang-soo in his debut manages to offer something so inherently realized and necessary that I am not surprised by its great success at the festival circuit and its constant mention in the various books on Korean cinema that I read.  I am a bit bothered though by its lack of familiarity on a larger cinema scale, not only on the stage of world cinema, but within Korean cinematic history as well.  Sure it is not Oldboy, or a classic Korean melodrama, but it is an opulently cinematic film that masks itself within the veneer of a gross and reprehensible set of characters, managing to create something that borders perfectly between disturbingly sparse and melodramatically grandiose.  The Day a Pig Fell into the Well, is a work that should stand as a lesson in how to produce an independent work that is always and at once well-acted, forward thinking and earnestly reflective of its previous influences.  While not one of the best made films by a long shot, perhaps a sounder made film does not exist.

The Day a Pig Fell into the Well, is a set of heavily interconnected stories about a group of individuals who exist within deceitful lives, in terms of monetary engagements, job related tasks and most importantly sexual exploits.  Arguably the largest factor within this film centers around characters going behind one another to engage in sexual acts, whether it be a writer who is having an affair with his wife, by having sex with a woman who is having an affair with her husband.  However, if this were all he was doing it would be one thing, the man also borrows money from one female only to turn around and give it to the person with whom he is having an affair.  Another segment of the narrative focuses on the cuckolded husband as he makes a trip to Seoul for business, only to turn around and sleep with a prostitute, something that leads to him getting an unspecified venereal disease, which in turn leads his wife to realize that he too has cheated, even though she is guilty of similar actions on a far more frequent basis.  We are even provided a glimpse into the writers other lover, who is head over heels about him, going so far as to buy him presents and swoon over him, yet when she comes to his apartment and finds him with another woman she becomes upset, leading him to chastise her and kick her around in the street.  Eventually, by some means of absurdism the group comes together at what is assumed to be a wake or funeral, the levels of infidelity become clear yet little confrontation occurs.  It is only in the end that the husband reasserts his masculinity upon his wife, but as the narrative suggests she has yet another relationship on the back burner.  Also some people are killed at some point, but that is almost a trope within Korean cinema at this point.

I cannot begin to expand on the possibilities for interpretation within this film, one could always touch upon the fears of modernity within contemporary Korea, a theme that I have mentioned frequently on this blog, but these are obvious critiques something not worth reiterating at this time.  I could even talk about the gender components in this film, because at times they are glaringly problematic, while in other moments they are quite revolutionary, however, I have an academic paper I am currently working on which will afford me that opportunity.  Instead, I am going to glean something from an article on the film that I have yet to read that discusses temporality and repetition in the work.  This seems to be a rather keen focus for this, film considering that it is essentially the same group of people, committing the same acts in somewhat similar spaces.  In fact, the only separating factor appears to be time a very temporal thing, but one that serves to solely sever a direct tie between each act.  Psychologically speaking this is what allows the characters to commit awful acts, ranging from money laundering to murder, a disconnect not by spacial awareness, but one of time, which I know makes little to no sense, but something about detaching oneself from a moment as it relates to spacial recognition is far more difficult than detaching oneself from a differing time period.  An obvious example is how we often overlook previous acts of genocide, because if we were not there we would not have committed them, this film suggests the opposite of that notion to varying degrees.  An individuals acts are contingent to a moment in time, we could all commit the crimes if they time, not the space allowed for its occurrence.  I know I have not hashed this theory out very well, but it is something I want to look into more and perhaps reflect on better in a later review.

Key Scene: The means by which sexual acts abruptly intercept scenes is so jarring and appropriate that it might be one of my favorite uses of intercourse in a film to date.

This is yet another film suffering from region blocks, once again, making Youtube your best viewing source.

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. 

It's Strange Calling Yourself: Mulholland Dr. (2001)

Dreary, perverse, reminiscent of Los Angeles despair, sporadic, surreal, demonic, obtuse and minimalist are all terms and phrases that could to some degree describe David Lynch’s mutli-narrative expose into California disillusionment that is Mulholland Dr.  However, no one of these statements fully encapsulates the complexity that is this film, transcending logical linear narrative and taking mundane and comforting images and completely turning them on their heads is a result of what has by now become known as Lynchian filmmaking.  It is a scary film, not in the sense that Halloween or a zombie film is scary, but instead horrific in its incomprehensibility and reliance on the darkest corners of unconscious fear that allow the film to be broodingly gruesome.  Despite having a rather lengthy runtime and multiple plots to follow, Mulholland Dr. consumes viewers into its world so much so, that when the power went out at my house unexpectedly during my viewing of this film, I felt myself preoccupied not with taking care of my quickly thawing food items, but instead fixing power so I could return to the enthralling story being depicted by David Lynch with poetic.  Perhaps though, the most notable thing about Mulholland Dr., as is the case with most of Lynch’s work is that it borders ever so evenly between dream and reality, we as viewers are never certain about the actuality or probability of anything occurring in the film and whether the collective imagery shown even matters at all.  For in the world of David Lynch, individuals encounters are both fabrications of unconscious desires and happenstance occurrences within the nightmarish world of reality.  Simply put, nobody is safe in the world of David Lynch, because nobody is who they seem to be, something that becomes quite clear in Mulholland Dr., several times within the film.

I will make a passing attempt to explain the plot of Mulholland Dr., but given its rather convoluted and grand nature, what I attempt to discuss may seem like a stream of conscious reflection more so than anything.  The film begins with one Rita (Laura Harring) taking a ride through the hills of Hollywood, only to be pulled aside by her chauffeurs and held at gunpoint.  Her death seems imminent, until the men and the car they are driving is hit by a group of speed crazed teenagers coming around a corner farther ahead.  At this point Rita flees the scene and takes up residence in a recently evacuated house in suburban Los Angeles.  At this point, we are introduced to Betty Elms (Naomi Watts) who is an aspiring actress, despite having clearly sheltered upbringings.  Thanks the generous help of her aunt she is allowed room and board at an apartment in the city.  Upon her arrival to apartment, she discovers Rita in her bathroom completely distraught and suffering from amnesia.  Being the helpful person that she is, Betty agrees to help Rita find out what happened and get answers to her attackers’ motives.  Their relationship at first seems innocent, but as the plot advances, the two become romantically involved and end up sleeping together, a decision which proves rather fatal.  Along with this storyline is the experience of Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux) who is a big time movie director suffering the wrath of illogical movie producers who demand that he hire specific people for his cast, particularly Betty.  We as viewers recognize her from earlier scenes, however, at not point is a logical connection made as to why she must be hired, we are only shown an Ozesque character behind a curtain whispering demands.  There is yet another layer of narrative, which involves a bounty killer (or cop, it is never clearly specified) named Joe Messing (Mark Pellegrino) knocking off various individuals for what appears to be no reason whatsoever.  These three narratives collide together in a jarring fashion and it appears that they have nothing in common, but as we have come to expect with Lynch, perhaps they are intimately related.  The film closes with a rather unusual scene of repetition to the beginning moments, with little to no reason.  We as viewers are left pondering existence and the very fabrication of our reality.

What then are we left to make of with such a surreal and nonlinear plot such as that of Mulholland Dr.  I will admittedly say that I know nowhere near enough about Freudian or Lacanian theory to properly analyze the subconscious nature of the filmic text, however, I will attempt to explain how Lynch’s film exists within the state of unconscious, particularly in a Surrealist sense.  The surrealist movement, headed by greats like Breton, Dali and Bunuel, desired to tap into something inherent to human desire that was repressed for a variety of reasons, in their times mostly political and religious.  The result was artwork and cinema that was violent and sexually perverse.  A second intent of the surrealist was to invoke shock and awe in those who witnessed their works as being something both obviously wrong in terms of ethics, yet seemingly inherent to human nature as well.  With this in mind, a film like Mulholland Dr. is clearly the next evolution in Surrealist filmmaking.  One can look at any work by Lynch and see this, although it is mot apparent in his early work Eraserhead.  Lynch’s film is arousing to viewers, not because it is formally obvious or melodramatic, but because it is eerily close to each individual that watches it, even the most bizarre of scenes in the films appears to ring true to a viewers innermost workings.  We, as humans, have a capacity for inner turmoil that often remains unanswered and Mulholland Dr. forces us to acknowledge such issues.  As for the films repetition and seeming déjà-vu nature, one needs only to reflect again, on how their mind works.  I know I am constantly replaying particular life events through my head, particularly those that prove to have a traumatic effect on me; it is perhaps a ploy on Lynch’s part to replay the traumatic events of attempted murder to further its importance to the overarching narrative.  Of course, there is always the possibility that none of it matters, that is an equally plausible reading of Lynch if you ask me.

Lynch is a staple of American independent cinema, considering his masterful mixture of the experimental and traditional narrative.  Owning his film makes you look cool, and if you can quote them or provide a copy for a viewing party, that makes you even cooler.  Oh yeah, and Billy Ray Cyrus is in this movie

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.

Top Ten Thursdays: 1980 In Film

For my third top ten thursday focusing on "best years in film" I have decided on 1980.  It is a year of broad films that reflected a cinematic world on the edge of the rise of independent cinema.  The works offered were nonetheless profoundly artistic, and the years comedies were particularly hilarious.  Some people look at the decade of the 80's as a wash, however, these ten films prove that to include 1980 in the statement would be terribly unfair.

10.) The Gods Must Be Crazy

An anthropological film of sorts, The Gods Must Be Crazy truly does more to display the problems of Western interference in African than anything to date.  Eat that Kony2012.

9.) Caddyshack

The comedic performances in this film are varied and well-executed.  My personal favorite being Chevy Chase as the antagonistically zenned out golfer.

8.) Airplane

A god tier post-modern comedy that is keen to early 80's culture, as well as being irreverently hilarious.

7.) The Long Good Friday

 Bob Hoskins will blow your mind as a crime lord whose entire world is collapsing below him.

6.) Out of the Blue

Dennis Hopper directs and performs in this abrasive film that was for a long time banned in many countries.

5.) Altered States

Perhaps Ken Russel's most well known work, Altered States does far more for commenting on drug use and its affects of personal relationships than Requiem for a Dream could ever hope to.

4.) The Elephant Man

When I watched this film as a kid, I was not aware of David Lynch.  Reflecting now on The Elephant Man, his hand in the film is so damn evident.

3.) Kagemusha

When Akira Kurosawa decides to make a film based on his watercolor paintings, it is hard not to be enamored with the result.

2.) Raging Bull

When Scorsese won an Oscar for The Departed, the Academy was really giving him an award for this film.

1.) The Shining

Choosing this as number one really should not be a surprise considering that he arguably has the best film in any year that he released a work.











Honorable Mention

Friday the 13th

You Destroyed Your Spirit In A Waste Of Shame: Red State (2011)

Kevin Smith has always brought a certain level of serious societal criticism to his films, whether it be a his hilarious romp through the fallacies of organized religion in Dogma or his clearly autobiographical look at lost love in Chasing Amy.  Smith, however, always manages to keep his films staunchly comedic endeavors, rarely going wholly dramatic in his approach.  This fact is what helped to make his newest film Red State something completely out of the ordinary.  Instead of being a comedic film with dashes of drama, Smith's 2011 film is the complete opposite and its very much an action/drama film that is light on its comedic hits.  One could quickly assume that a director completely stepping out of his comfort zone would produce dire results, yet to my surprise Red State is a very watchable film.  It will never make the short list for the best Kevin Smith films by any means, but it is an excellent change of pace for the director, particularly given his apparent decreasing relevance to contemporary indie discourse.  Regardless, the film is fully realized and a fresh take for Kevin Smith, not to mention given its clearly liberal leanings it was not entirely difficult for me to enjoy its scathing attack on the illogical horrors exacted by religious fundamentalist extremism.

Red State is rather bizarre in its plot, but one that seems entirely possible in American society.  The initial portion of the film focuses on three boys Travis (Michael Angarano), Randy (Ronnie Connell) and Billy-Ray (Nicholas Braun) who are unpopular in their high school, making their quest to get laid seemingly impossible.  This quest is overshadowed by their community dealing with the absurd protest of the Five Points Trinity Church at a recently murdered gay student's funeral.  Despite this, the boys are able to chase down a possible sexual encounter via a craigslist style website for sex.  Planning ahead, the group is able to get one of their parents car and travel to the location in the country outside of their small suburban town.  On the way to the encounter, they accidentally sideswipe a car which is occupied by the town sheriff and a gay prostitute.  In a panic, the group flees the scene and continues on their quest.  They quickly reach their point and find their meet-up point, which happens to be a trailer occupied by a woman named Sara (Melissa Leo).  The nervous boys adhere to Sara's demands without question, which includes downing multiple beers before stripping.  It is at this point that Sara chastises the group for attempting to engage in sodomy.  Befuddled the boys begin to lose consciousness and pass out, only to wake up to haunting spirituals and a realization that they are victims to the previously mentioned Five Points Trinity Church.  Witnessing the murder of a gay man at the hands of the church led by the maniacal, yet eerily friendly Abin Cooper (Michael Parks) the boys try to escape.  Their efforts seem futile, but luckily, the upset sheriff has sent a deputy to search for the car, which leads him to the Five Points compound.  The deputy after realizing that the situation is quite suspicious attempts to call in reinforcements, only to be shot by a member of the church.  This shooting leads to the sheriff, despite threats of blackmail by Abin, to call in the help of the ATF.  The film then enters into its second act, which focuses on Agent Keenan (John Goodman) who is a specialist in the plots and going-ons of Five Points, particularly their accrual of weapons and explosives.  Attempting to make the confiscation and removal of members from the location amiable, Keenan sets a stakeout point, only to have the sheriff ruin the plan by shooting one of the fleeing boys leading to a full-on shoot out, which leaves many killed in the process.  After much fighting and a constant changing of plans by the government the member of Five Points evacuate their facility after hearing what sound to be trumpets.  Thinking these sounds to be the act of God, Abin walks up to Keenan defiantly only to be subdued with a headbutt.  The film then cuts to Keenan at a federal hearing to justify his actions, in which he is scolded on camera, only to be told off camera that his actions were perfectly reasonable, if not hilarious, and would result in his promotion.  The film closes with Abin jailed for engaging in intended terrorist activities, with an ironic assumption that the gay acts he loathed so much would be enacted upon him frequently in jail.  It is in this closing shot that we get the most Keven Smithesque jab of the entire film.

So this film is not initially what one would expect form Kevin Smith, with that being said it is still easy to pick up his little offerings throughout the film.  The first and foremost is the raunchy characters, while they are not on the level of Jason Mewes, the young boys foul mouth and sex-crazed minds immediately place the film in the world of Kevin Smith.  Second, the film is incredibly detailed both in its narrative and in its physical world.  The characters statements, including the seemingly insane ramblings of Abin are realized and quite reflective on what an individual in such a role would say.  Furthermore, Smith's attention to details with his set is one of his best creations to date, from the civics classroom covered with quotes, pictures of presidents and reminders to the church complete with a large metal cross, children's drawings and food for a post-rapture world, this is a world that exists as a plausible reality.  It has always been a concern of Smith since his filming of life in a convenience store to promote believability and Red State certainly adheres to this notion.  Finally, and perhaps the hardest to connect between the collective works of Smith are his moments of prophetic clarity in his works.  Perhaps the most prolific of these occurs in the diner conversation between Ben Affleck's character and Jay and Silent Bob, in which Bob breaks out of his muteness to explain the woes of love and how every individual has to "chase" their own inaccessible love.  This moment of clarity occurs in the closing of Red State during the interview between Keenan and the government agents, in which Keenan realizes that the blaring horns, which actually from a practical joke played by neighboring college students, were so unexpected and illogical that such a thing as divine intervention occurs in the world, even if the source is not literally divine.  It posits the possibility of karmatic punishment and reward, without directly tying it to a deity.  It is a profound moment in a film about hateful and ignorant blindness, and one that could only come from the mind of Kevin Smith.

Just like my previous review of Restless, Red State is another great film for the year of 2011.  It is certainly not Kevin Smith's best, but one well worth owning nonetheless, particularly given the gritty beauty of the bluray release.

Life Is Much The Same; Sometimes Bitter, Sometimes Sweet: Sunrise (1927)

Sunrise, subtitled A Song of Two Humans is one of those gems that often separates a legitimate critics top film list from somebody who pretends to know what they are talking about when it comes to cinema.  I had yet to see this movie and felt as though I was missing something spectacular.  To be honest, as the film began I thought I was watching a rather dull film, but this notion ended quite quickly.  The moment director F.W. Murnau began overlapping images and incorporating bizarre camera angles, I was hooked.  This film is an expressionist masterpiece that pours out darkness almost consuming the the faint light that surrounds the characters, becoming a study in the blackest parts of the human psyche, most notably deceit and infidelity.  However, like any good film made before Citizen Kane, it offers redemption and viewers are left with a cinematic treat that is both rewarding and heartfelt, a feat that is becoming harder and harder to deliver in contemporary cinema.

I have mentioned in many reviews that some film plots are very simple and unapologetically plain.  Sunrise may  prove to have the simplest plot of any film I ever review.  With that being said, it may also have one of the deepest-rooted narratives of any piece of cinema I have encountered.  This simple story of redemption is so honest, emotional and beautiful that I could not look away, fearing that I would miss some subtlety that would turn the entire narrative on its head.  The narrative goes like this The Man (George O'Brien) is so deeply consumed by lust for The Woman From The City (Margaret Livingston) that he is making a fool of his wife The Woman (Janet Gaynor) and blowing his meager earnings to please the city socialite.  In an oneiric scene The Woman From The City demands that The Man kill her wife and move to the city with her, promising a world of razzmatazz and joviality that explodes off the screen in orgiastic joy.  Half-drunken on idealism The Man agrees and plans an elaborate method to kill The Woman whilst rowing to the city.  The Woman mistakes this offering of a trip to the city for a chance to rekindle their relationship, only to become shocked when The Man tries to kill her.  Unable to commit to the act The Man begs for The Woman's forgiveness as they dock on shore and approach the city.  Realizing the error of his ways, The Woman accepts The Man's apologies and the couple engage in a carefree romp through the city.  Their flame rekindled the couple heads back to their farm town by boat, only to get caught in a hectic storm that capsizes the boat.  Believing he has lost his wife, The Man goes into a severe depression while The Woman From The City believes his act to be purposeful.  Fortunately for The Man, it is discover that The Woman has indeed survived the wreck with little harm.  The Man dismisses The Woman From The City and refuses to continue his infidelities leaving the couple together in a happy embrace, thus ending the film, simply and poetically.

The film is full of critical analysis, Murnau was a director who was very self-aware about the images he projected and Sunrise is certainly no exception.  With a oeuvre that includes an adaptation of Tartuffe, as well as the critically acclaimed Nosferatu, it is clear that Murnau loved the study of human experience.  Sunrise particularly concerns itself with the tragedy of human desire.  The desire manifests itself in many ways throughout the film, whether it is The Man's desire for another lover, or The Woman's desire for normalcy within her family.  Even The Woman From The City desires the acceptance of the village people, despite engaging in infidelity which she fails to realize destroys this possibility.  These desires are rather blatant, but the larger issue of longing comes through in the form of capitalist desires.  Money is arguably its own character within the film, every main character is tied to it in some form and it is exchanged throughout the film.  In fact, the only reason that The Man and The Woman are capable of rekindling their love is because of an apparent excess of wealth produced by The Man.  It is implied at the films onset that The Man has no money, yet the couple spends lavishly in the city as though they had an unlimited well of finances.  It implies that happiness and the cessation of desire can only occur through monetary escape.  This argument helps add another layer to the film, particularly the possibility that the couple's trip to the city was actually a dream.  Many of the occurrences in the city are literally impossible, notably the instance in which The Man and The Woman walk through traffic without being hit, or when The Man plays the carnival game that appears to have a never ending supply of balls for him to throw.  The scenes are illogical and surreal, all indicative of dreams.  Contrast this with the literal stormy seas of reality that the couple must go through.  They are shot with close angles and become far more believable than any of the city scenes.  Furthermore, it is only in The Man's moment of severe loss that he realizes that the reality of nothingness makes the fleeting dreams of unlimited wealth ridiculous and that a life in poverty with love is far more rewarding than a life with riches that lacks love.  Sure, this particular reading of Sunrise is a possible stretch, but I cannot help but think Murnau has such ideas in mind.

This movie is on top film lists for a reason, it is perfect filmmaking and a shining moment in the silent film era.  I believe there was briefly a blu-ray copy of this released, but it is sadly out of print.  If you can drop money on that get it, if not a regular DVD will work fine.  The only thing that will not work is not watching this film, because you would be doing yourself a terrible injustice.

Excuse Me…Who Are You?: Perfect Blue (1997)

Upon approaching this Perfect Blue, I had heard multiple statements claiming it to be the anime equivalent of a Hitchcock film.  While this is certainly true, it is a tragic understatement to how truly unique and dark this movie really becomes.  It is an intense, morbid and visually striking animated film that is condensed into eighty minutes of glorious madness.  It still does not top Akira, but truth be told this is one of the best pieces of animation I have ever seen.  It is making me consider reworking my previous Top Ten Thursday list.  I cannot express the surreal and oneiric qualities of this movie, but it is a must watch film and is perhaps the best piece of anime available to discredit notions of the genre being full of childish Disneyesque films.  Incidentally, the storyline for Perfect Blue is arguably more disconnected than the surrealist offering that is Fantasia.

Perfect Blue focuses on the crumbling celebrity status of Mima, the lead singer of the J-pop trio Cham.  She has decided to end her time with the musical group, against her wishes, in order to pursue a career in acting.  It seems as though Mima will acquire a decent amount of success as an actress, making cameos on crime shows and still maintaining her associations with her pop star past.  This is the case for a short amount of time, however, as her producer is suddenly the victim of a mail bomb intended for Mima.  At this point the film begins to immerse itself into a world in which reality and dreams are no longer differentiated.  This occurrence is spurred by Mima being introduced to a website called Mima’s Room which recounts her daily activities.  Mima is distraught by this discovery because she is certain that she is not the one writing this website and is the victim of another persons fanatical obsessions.  Her paranoia is not benefitted by the fact that the show she is starring on is concerned with a serial killer.  As her confusion increases Mima is incapable of separating her reality from that of the killer she plays in the film, often acting violently without explanation.  The plot continues to become more desoltary and murky ending with a twist that would make Hitchcock proud and put Shyamalan to shame.  I promise you that without spoilers you will not see the ending coming, it is that well delivered of a narrative.

I am going to for go an intense critical analysis of this piece and instead talk about how it serves as an example of what animated films can do that reality cannot (This is excluding CGI films).  A film like Perfect Blue has the power to portray dreamlike states and desolate landscapes in a way that escapes believability in the world of live action.  Even a perfectly executed dream sequence, like those in Inception, fails to grasp believability because we know as human being that we are incapable of fighting in a world void of gravity.  However, when approaching works that are animated we are certain from the onset that it does not in any way reflect reality and subconsciously we allow ourselves to view it in a surreal alternative reality.  Another good example of an animated film that allows us this venue is Richard Linklater’s study on dream states Waking Life.  Sure, it seems like a simplistic argument, but it is hard not to become captivated on a different level with something like Perfect Blue, because while you can disconnect as a viewer you cannot ever truly escape the depravity of the film.  You cannot remove yourself from the surreal in the same way you can the real, it eats away at your subconscious whether you allow it to or not.

This film is rather hard to come by, but well worth owning.  If you can throw the money around and like animated films then I would strongly encourage you to get a copy.  For those who are uncertain about anime, this is probably one of the best places to start

Tonight, A Comedian Died in New York: Watchmen (2009)

I am of the belief that if you want to make a big budget movie, then you should commit to going all out on its quality.  Zack Snyder is one of the few directors who really gets this idea.  His 2009 adaptation of the classic Alan Moore graphic novel is heavy handed, explosive and lengthy...all the signifiers of a great high-end production.  However, it differentiates itself from other blockbusters by being intellectual, artistic and most importantly cynical.  It, unlike other superhero movies, offers no form of redemption for its characters and allows immoral behavior to occur if it promises to placate human natures desire to consume and destroy.  Watchmen is the antithesis of a blockbuster film, yet uses every element of the genre to advance plot, amaze viewers and most importantly earn money.  It is the rare gem we rarely see in Hollywood, a major motion picture that has a legitimate social commentary.

Watchmen is set in a counter-1980's that is witnessing abysmal living conditions, particularly heavy distress for nuclear fallout, and the third re-election of Richard Nixon.  This set up alone makes the films criticisms rather blatant.  The film, however, follows a group of ex-superheroes who have each for various reasons splintered away from a crime fighting gang known collectively as the Minute Men.  They include a gun-wielding, cigar smoking wise guy named The Comedian (Jeffery Dean Morgan) and a psychotic bandaged noir-like character named Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley) as two polar opposites for the possibility of superheroes.  Rorschach has taken it upon himself to find the purpose behind the recent murder of The Comedian, because he feels strongly that it is only the beginning of a string of attacks up masked heroes.  In hopes of ending the carnage, Rorschach attempts to regroup the remaining members of the Minutemen.  This includes the female vixen Laurie Jupiter (Malin Akerman), the tech genius Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson) and the post-nuclear uberman Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup). 

This task proves impossible for Rorschach, because each member seems disillusioned by humanity and incapable of finding motivation to fight justice any longer, particularly Dr. Manhattatn whose psychic abilities make him believe human life to be laughably futile.  Despite bickering and misdirection the group eventually joins together to destroy The Comedian's killer.  In the sake of the ruining the plot, I will not reveal who the killer is, or what the outcome of the situation is, but my next paragraph my spoil the narratives outcome given its rather bleak nature.

Watchmen is both a scalding critique of United States politics post-1968 as well as a dismissal of escapism in to grandiose ideas of a higher moral power that exists to correct the actions of wrongdoers.  Each of the superheroes comprising The Minutemen are flawed and showing the dark side of placing trust in a believed higher being, even if they are not a manifestation of god.  The Comedian, represents the ideal American superhero in his rough and tumble, to hell with everything attitude.  However, his flaw is indiscretion and brutish anger lead to him becoming a murderous, alcoholic waste in his later years leading up to his death.  Nite Owl and Laurie Jupiter are flawed because they are incapable of removing themselves from the expectations of parental figures, who like themselves fought crime, to them both it is as much a forced duty as an act of good nature.  Even the gun-ho Rorschach is problematic, given that his moral compass is skewed by psychological trauma that makes his Robin Hood-esque vengeance tantamount to serial killing, more so that crime fighting. Finally, the omniscient Dr. Manhattan is the most problematic, because he is afforded vision into the future.  He knows the outcome of events relating to him.  He is by no means omniscient though, because his future visions, are inextricably tied to his moral compass, therefore his choice of right and wrong is relative to his own situations not necessarily the entirety of humanity.  He cannot help successfully predict the future, because even in an ideal situation it is still biased to his inner being.  The film ends only with words and the possibility of a redemptive lesson, which can, for the first time, truly ensure humanities peaceful advancement.

This is the best superhero movie I have ever seen.  It is what High-Definition televisions were made for and Snyder certainly knows how to create a all-encompassing experience.  Not to mention any movie with Bob Dylan songs is a good movie by me. Buy it and love it...I am certain it will blow your mind.