Always Get Moving Again. OK!: The Happiness Of The Katakuris (2001)

The idea of post-genre cinema is one of the things that has come to truly fascinate me in the past year or so as I begin to truly unpack my research interests and begin to focus on graduate school endeavors.  When I refer to post-genre, at least in my mind, it is taking a particularly key genre, such as horror or the western and using tropes and themes from it in an incredibly post-modern way, usually in a satirical or absurdist manner.  Of course, there are post-genre exceptions that manages to take their execution very seriously without be comedic or absurdist, John Hillcoat's The Proposition being a perfect example of such an occurrence.  Indeed, some filmmakers simply exist in a state of post-genre, always mashing together what they find to be cinematic language extended to its furthers points, Quentin Tarantino being an example of this, although much of what he does is purely copying and pasting.  Other directors, like one of Tarantino's favorites, Takashi Miike manages to be post-genre in every cinematic endeavor he undertakes.  For example, both Audition and his more recent 13 Assassins manage to be post-genre purely by prefabricating the horror and samurai films to fit within a post-digital and post-modern viewer palette, resulting in incredibly engaging works of film that also happen to be deeply unsettling for their frank depictions of violence and oppression.  In a world all its own, however, is Miike's The Happiness of the Katakuris, which sets itself up primarily as a musical, but also functions as a tradtional family drama, not to mention making heavy use of claymation throughout.  In setting up a film with such a series of idyllic and traditionally positive genre elements, Miike's choice to make the film a horror thriller within this context proves to create as perplexing and enigmatic a film as one might ever encounter, taking second only to House in terms of otherworldly Japanese cinema.  Assumedly a work like this is part of the Japanese Weird Wave, but simply describing it as such does nothing to help establish how truly unusual and anti-normative this particular work manages to be.  It has no limitations, nor does it expect its viewers to look for such boundaries.

As the title suggests the film centers on the experiences of a family known as the Katakuris, who have been living under the guise of failure from their various generations for well over four decades, beginning with the father Jinpei (Tesuro Tamba) and running all the way down to the Katakuri son and former criminal Masayuki (Shinji Takeda).  While failure seems to simply be part of the family dynamic, they are nonetheless capable of running a moderately successful bed and breakfast in a rural area of Japan, even picking up considerable business when they arrive at a new location.  Things at the establishment seem to be particularly successful until a weird occurrence begins to unfold wherein the various guests at their home begin dying, either by suicide or other inexplicable causes of death.  Alongside the other members of the family divorced daughter Shizue (Naomi Nishida) manages to navigate her own severe anxieties and depressions at being left by a Japanese man purporting to be part of the British Royal Family named Richard Sagawa (Kiyoshiro Imawano).  Aside from struggling at his return, Shizue also attempts to shelterer daughter Yurie (Tamaki Miyazaki) who also narrates the film, from the various violence and sadness occurring around their residence.  However, this attempt at sheltering proves all but futile when it is revealed that not only have the buried bodies begun to stack up considerably, but many of them are coming back to live with avegence, one that is surprisingly quelled by the seemingly indifferent Yurie.  Between this bizarre occurrence and the unforeseen return of Richard to the family space, the various failures of the members of the family are pushed to the forefront and each is able to deal with their individual issues, while also understanding that they are within a family structure simultaneously, one that should prosper both within and detached from the individual.  Although the family clearly moves to a place of forgiveness, the rumbling and eventual explosion of a nearby volcano proves to be the last bit of push needed for a new direction in their lives, even if violently so.

I want so desperately to unpack every bit of minutia in this film, but I am aware that it is a lot going on and it is only exacerbated by not being completely versed on the various genres at play both in their Western context and their appropriation within a Japanese setting.  Furthermore, I am far too lacking in knowledge of the familial space in Japan to offer a further consideration.  I make all these claims, because I am still hoping that I can draw some conclusions based on post-colonial bodies and having scene not only other Miike films, but quite a lot of Japanese cinema as well (although I could always stand to view more).  I want first to consider Miike's use of claymation within the film, while things like Alice and The Fantastic Mr. Fox have managed to push the consideration of the childlike association to such an advertising style, it is decidedly entrenched within the cinema of young children and Miike is clearly using it in this context.  The humorous, slapstick nature of the situations occurring in this setting lead one to assume a situation in which it is wholly funny, if not a bit on the grotesque side, but I would argue that it is using this very non-threatening medium to call attention to very real issues of violence, based in oppression within the context of modern Japan.  This could emerge in two distinct ways, the first being a fear of the colonized past, wherein the performative Richard, donning his literal costume, represents an idea of the colonial figure as idea, even though he himself is indeed a colonized body in the context, his rejection is affecting his body, whereas the claymation serves as a means to directly address the violent bodily harm at play within post-colonial and later gendered oppression, by making light of it.  Brechtian as it may be, it is calling attention to the viewers own concerns, by placing it under the guise of humor and childlike comedy.  This same critique could be extended to consider masculinity within the musical numbers as well, whether it be the action movie inspired musical number about male sacrifice, or the entire scenes surrounding the deeply disturbing engagement between a young girl and the sumo wrestler guest.  It is all a veneer of hyper-idealism that plays into the reality which is far from ideal.  Indeed, this is on a level of anti-escapism equal to Von Trier's Dancer in the Dark.

Key Scene:  The karaoke style sing-a-long portion had me laughing uncontrollably the entire time.

The DVD is a bit pricey and not the best quality.  While I can hold out for a bluray upgrade in the future that is probably not very likely.  As such, renting is the most appropriate course of action.

He Who Controls The Rebound Controls The Game: Kung Fu Dunk (2008)

The J-Drama/K-Drama scene is something I am not familiar with, despite having a deep admiration and love for all things contemporary and East Asian.  It is not that I do not think that I would at the very least enjoy the absurd plots of Korean kids dealing with high school romances in the supernatural or find something evocative and captivating in period piece Japanese miniseries, I love both of these narratives in their filmic form, but am fully aware that an endeavor of the sort in regards to drama would suck way more time out of my day than I already do with watching movies.  Therefore, I occasionally try to nab a film that looks expressly like it is a result of Asian television more so that film and considering that Kung Fu Dunk fit within the framework of my month of martial arts films, it figured like a perfect opportunity to kill the veritable two birds.  Of course, Kung Fu Dunk is a Chinese film, but its existence is quite similar to that of the aforementioned J/K Drama works, in so much, as it is a highly stylized and overly melodramatic film that does not delve too deeply into serious social issues, although Kung Fu Dunk does venture into some rather interesting territory.  It is necessary, first off, to note that this film is nowhere near that of Shaolin Soccer, but in a humorous tip of the hat makes that rather clear from the onset.  Instead, Kung Fu Dunk exists in a space similar to that of a high school comedy that might appear in the world of The Disney Channel, right down to the archetypal characters and the absurdists adult figures.  Indeed, I could not help but draw constant comparisons between the film's main star and the indomitable media presence that is Justin Bieber.  Kung Fu Dunk is a textbook mid-grade film whose offering is nothing revolutionary, but is also not unwatchable, instead existing as a series of thoughts ideas and action sequences that were thought up by producers to create something that could be produced quickly, relatively inexpensively and turn around a quick dollar.  Considering this frame of mind, Kung Fu Dunk is fun, but never exceptional.  Indeed, it lacks the stakes or threat of narrative danger necessary to a truly good film, particularly in the martial arts and even sports drama.  The characters are likable, but not memorable.  If anything is to be outright praised about this film, it is what I can only assume to be the entire sequence that stands in as a shot-for-shot remake of a highlight reel from the games played by the 1992 USA Dream Team.

Kung Fu Dunk begins by focusing on the early life of an orphan named Fang Shijie (Jay Chou) who is taken in by a vagrant kung fu artist known for his attempts to master a technique that will alter time.  However, messing with such a dangerous technique results in the man's death and Fang is then relocated to another dojo, where he is reviled by the headmaster and used as a literal punching bag.  During an evening when he wants to escape the woes of the dojo life, Fang wanders about a park in the city, tossing cans carelessly into a trash can, with surprising precision.  This catches the eye of a hustler named Wangli (Eric Tsang) who realizes the potential Fang could have in hustling at a local bar.  During the night he takes Fang to the club and begins using his skills to win dart games, much to the frustration of the bar owner, who sends his goons to attack, all of which are fended off by the versatile Fang.  However, this bar owner is also a dear friend of the dojo master, who punishes Fang and then exiles him from the dojo.  Fan desperate returns to Wangli who comes up with the idea of using Fang's skills on the basketball court, combining his precision with the orphan narrative to create the most ideal of underdog stories.  Arriving at First University, the idealist Fang is confronted with a group of basketball players who while skilled deal with a variety of problems, whether it be the injury of their star player, or the crippling alcoholism of the team's captain Ting Wei (Bolin Chen).  Matters are made worse for Fang when his long time crush Li-Li (Charlene Choi) proves to be the sister of Ting, providing an initial anxiety to Fang as he attempts to prove his skills on the court.  While Fang is excellent at making shots, he is not as skilled at the basics of basketball and delves heavily into his training, eventually earning the respect of his teammates, although he has yet to find his family.  The First University team eventually makes it to the finals where they are forced to face Fire Ball, a team infamous for their foul play and financial backing, one that is the same as the owner of the bar with whom Fang and Wangli are at odds.  However, despite the unending cheating on the part of Fire Ball and its backers, Fang uses a long lost skill to assure a win, earning admiration from all involved and even a chance meeting with his father.

Mind you a condensed that narrative a bit, but there are also a lot of side stories going on in the film that never really come to fruition.  I am rather certain that the narrative was much longer in its inception and was wildly cut to fit a shorter film, thus assuring the limited attention span of the young adult audience for which it is likely intended.  Indeed, the film makes great strides to show how aware it is of Western youth culture, between the absurd outfits worn by the characters, to the decadent engagements of the young people as they move about the spaces of clubs drinking and dancing as though the former has no lasting repercussions, even for Ting who is depicted as being a heavy alcoholic, shaking with anxiety on any occasion where he is not guzzling alcohol out of a flask.  Other elements, like Fang's attachment to his lost family and coming to learn familial bonds through friendship, also emerge, but what I found most fascinating is the manner with which the film dealt with cheating, almost as if to put forth a larger narrative about the nature of exploitation and its unfortunate past in Chinese history.  The figure of the club/Fire Ball owner is that of a man who wills his way in everything, even hiring the referees to run afoul when it proves that Fang and his teammates might win a game.  The narrative seems to suggest that China acknowledges its problematic exploitative past through figures like the club owner, as well as Fang's father, who even dons an outfit that seems indicative of feudal Chinese power.  In the past, no amount of diligence or unified efforts could have afforded those without access to those with and even when underdogs did emerge, the person in power would stifle their movement in very real and jarring manners.  In Kung Fu Dunk it is with a baseball bat, whereas in Chinese history one thinks of the man standing up against a tank, one of the most iconic images in a post-television world.  In the end, however, the film does embrace a notion of companionship through trust and team bonding, reminding viewers that while dunking is cool it rarely wins a game.  This narrative is highly invested in a communist based ideology of unity for a common success, but entrenched within individual endeavor, it manages to avoid the trouble of blind robotic devotion and embrace the singular identity in the process.  Ideally there would be more of this in the film, but, again, it is a narrative mess that was likely the result of heavy script editing.

Key Scene:  Again the scene that might have doubled as 1992 USA Dream Team highlights is pretty wild

Honestly there is nothing really excellent about this film that makes it worth watching.  If you are bored it might be worth taking a look at, but Shaolin Soccer is a far better film for kung fu martial arts, and pretty much every Korean film about high school is better than Kung Fu Dunk.

Fat Guy In A Little Coat: Tommy Boy (1995)

I am full knowledgeable of the dismissive attitude many cinephiles have to the entirety of comedy for the decade of the nineties.  Sure a ton of it is entirely entrenched within toilet humor and crude, terribly thought out jokes, or in the opposite spectrum the films are too highbrow and pretentious to the point of being distancing to anyone who is not an English major at a prestigious Ivy League school.  Fortunately, the era was not a complete wash and occasionally a film would come along that meets the middle ground on the comedic divide, one such film that I have championed for on this blog was Stuart Saves His Family in its clever commentary on the nature of familial trust, self-help and depression, while also being uproariously funny.  From the same year, the Chris Farley and David Spade vehicle Tommy Boy exudes the same thrill and fascination, allowing for it to be both a staple of mid-nineties yuppie disillusion, as well as a larger film about friendship and moving beyond the shadow of one's predecessors.  Tragically, anything with Chris Farley has come to take on an unfortunate life of its own,  considering that his last months before an untimely death were fueled with wild drug use and an irreversible downward spiral of self-loathing. Here in Tommy Boy, however, Farley is at his finest, I would argue even more so than in his iconic "van down by the river" sketch, moving between the wild and unruly antics that would earn him his comedic reputation and delivering some poignant and moving  lines of dialogue that show a very real understanding of frustration and failure.  It also helps that the film is not so invested in an on-the-nose commentary about the nature of small business as to become shadowed by its sweeping sense of importance.  Sure it is a great narrative about sticking it to the big cats and supplanting corruption, but that is secondary to the pseudo-coming of age tale that unfolds for the title character.  It also does not hurt that the film seems to have an uncanny resemblance to the world of Twin Peaks, and if all else fails one cannot help but love the iconic moment of Farley dancing about in Spade's sports jacket, it is clear in this scene, as well as many others, that at the very least the two were having the time of their lives making this film.

Tommy Boy focuses, obviously enough, on the experiences of Tommy (Chris Farley) a recent college graduate who had been on the "seven year plan," which involved heavy drinking and drug use, although with an inspired D+ on an American History final he succeeds in finishing  with his degree, subsequently planning to return to work for his father Big Tom Callahan (Brian Dennehy) at his auto parts factory.  Of course, Tommy is extremely inept at anything remotely productive, however, he is adored by all the factory workers, particularly Michelle (Julie Warner) the shipping manager for Callahan's who seems to see past Tommy's foolish demeanor for the stand-up guy beneath.  In the opposite view stands Richard (David Spade) Big Tom's righthand man who had been prepping to take over his position, assuming that Tommy would never complete college.  Both Richard and Tommy are taken for a spin, however, when Big Tom has a heart attack during his wedding to his new young wife Beverly (Bo Derek) leading to the bank demanding that the company account for their loans.  In an act of thoughtful desperation, Tommy offers his shares in the company and the factory as leeway on the loan asking that he and Richard be provided time to sell the necessary shipments to pay off the loan.  Richard is fearful of the success of such a wild plan, as well as for his life, knowing the reputation Tommy carries along with him, which is asserted during their first sales pitch, which literally goes up in flames.  It is not until the duo get into a furious argument on the side of the road that Tommy appears to have a wake-up call, one that ignites a suppressed ability to sell his product, without entirely relying on the crutch of his late father.  It then appears as though Tommy and Richard will save the business, however, a shipping error that is onset by Beverly's son Paul (Rob Lowe), who turns out to be far closer with his mother than anyone expected, results in the company, nonetheless, going bankrupt and being bought up by the competitor Zalinksy (Dan Akroyd).  At this point, Richard assumes defeat, yet Tommy refuses to give up after he has come this far and uses his idealistic antics to worm his way into Zalinsky's office, while also uncovering the duplicitous nature of Beverly and Paul in the process.  Tommy saves the company, forms a real friendship with Richard, gets the girl and fondly remembers his father, which is a stark contrast from the figure that emerges in the opening moments of the film.

While I hesitate to overanalyze something as seemingly simple as Tommy Boy, I do find there to be a real consideration of the relationship between authenticity, salesmanship and ethics working throughout the film.  The obvious examples emerge in figures like Zalinsky, who claims to be a working class man selling working class parts to working class people, but when confronted with his own statement, he clearly rejects that notion and only cares about his own personal advancement.  Indeed, it is what one seeks in personal advancement that seems to play into notions of authenticity in this film, Paul and Beverly are seeking unethical gains therefore their relationship as a mother and son is not only lacking n authenticity it is completely contradictory to their actuality.  Yet for characters like Richard and Tommy it is far harder to claim that either is lesser apt for the job than the other, because while Richard certainly knows the parts and business of Callahan's he is a stiff suit who is going through the motions and is completely oblivious to the amiable nature necessary to sales.  Tommy is highly likable and extremely friendly, however, it is impossible for him to really comprehend the guidelines for proper salesmanship, ones that are arguably breakable, but not to be completely ignored.  Indeed, it is not until the duo realizes that their respective approaches to proper salesmanship possess degrees of the authentic that business begins to boom.  However, there is also the underlying notion that the two are both ethically sound characters, Tommy in his youthful idealism that assumes all persons are inherently good and Richard who plays by the rules, therefore, assuming everyone else does, allows for the two to come of clean, even when they pass as flight attendants or fake holding up a bank.  All of this coalesces wonderfully in the first big successful sale by Tommy where he debates the ethics of a slapping a guarantee on a piece of paper with a prospective buyer.  As Tommy notes, it is only a person who is unsure about their product that would feel it necessary to provide a guarantee, in the mind of Tommy, which affects his worldview, a guarantee should be a given, calling attention to it is frivolous and of suspect.  Much like the business he now owns, Tommy thinks that good and authentic behavior is a given and should not need to be noted, only proven.

Key Scene:  As much as the "fat guy in little coat" number is the most notable scene from the film, the failed sales scene that ends in Tommy lighting a desk on fire is the highlight of the film, if only to watch Spade struggle to keep a straight face throughout.

Tommy Boy is available on Watch Instantly, you should set some time aside and check it out, or in some cases revisit the film.  It certainly stands up and is a light and entertaining film.

I Don't Think I Like Being In Love. It Puts A Bit In My Mouth: The Furies (1950)

Anthony Mann's The Furies is easily the most richly shot films I have encountered in this marathon.  Somewhere between between the deep grays and blacks and the way shadows explode and evaporate in his wide shots it is hard not to fall in love with the seeming sumptuousness of the film.  Of course Anthony Mann who I first encountered, fittingly enough in a Film Noir course for his work Border Incident, creates a landscape in his films that while beautiful, represents a decaying and fractured society and extends to reflect the psyche of those individuals existing in the space.  In fact, just like the previously mentioned Border Incident I would be inclined to call this film something of a film noir text, although it is also a woman's melodrama, in that Barbara Stanwyck whose presence alone is almost its own film noir trope, is playing a character who falls foolishly and blindly in love, an act that proves unusual for the actress who made a career as a femme fatale.  In its modernist blending of genres to create something spectacular, The Furies is a piece that is as captivating and it is jarring, the unusual soundtrack is more reminiscent of an Igor Stravinsky number than the swelling and sweeping violins of the traditional melodrama.  Everything about The Furies begs to be heavily considered and analyzed, no character throughout the film is purely of one mind frame or ethical framing, often contradicting their previous actions or betraying the very elements of respectablity which the western genre so heavily hinges itself.  The films possesses pseudo-villians, anti-heroes and even a reconsideration of who can occupy the space of such a good and evil dichotomy.  Sure the narrative gets a bit convoluted at the end and sloppily ties itself back together, but it is a work that wants to embellish its own fractured style, at times the slightest of alterations to the focus of the frame makes the scene blurry in the most inconspicuous of manners, nonetheless, suggesting a frame of reference that is, like the characters of The Furies, melting and sweating under its own heated paranoia.  Were this film not to be so heavily invested in the use of natural sets, one could easily place this among the greatest of expressionist masterworks.

The Furies, focuses on the farm and land for which the title borrows its name.  The land is located in the New Mexico territory and is compared to being a feudal ran area, which is fitting because the patron of the land T.C. Jeffords (Walter Huston) navigates the world as though he had a certain degree of regal authority about himself.  T.C., as the narrative establishes, is far from in control of his situation and indeed owes a considerable amount of money to various lenders, while also struggling to keep a group of previous residents turned squatters from occupying his land.  All these issues come to the forefront while T.C.'s own daughter Vance (Barbara Stanwyck) attempts to assert her own presence on The Furies, hoping one day to own the entire land for herself, without the societally assumed ties of another male figure, preferably a husband.  To make matters slightly more convaluted Vance also has a strong relationship with one of the squatters named Juan Herrera (Gilbert Roland) for whom her father does not approve, nor does the larger extent of society.  In enters Rip Darrow (Wendell Corey) a wealthy banker and loan shark, who has a considerable grudge with T.C. over name calling and wrongs in the past.  Yet, Rip is a powerful man and could free T.C. from his economic woes by marrying Vance, who takes an instant liking to debonaire gentleman.  Of course, Rip is far from Vance's ideal man because he is neither submissive nor interested in marrying her, even taking a bribe gladly not to mary her from T.C.  During her struggle to obtain the reigns of The Furies, Vance is blocked by T.C.'s mistress of sorts Flo (Judith Anderson) who has her own vision of what the ranch will become, a notion so infuriating to Vance that she violently attacks Flo with a pair of scissors.  After a final dispute over land, T.C. kills Juan and his men, pushing Vance to the edge, allowing her to remove all barriers from her desire to overtake her disillusioned father, using his blind economic ambitions against him and eventually tricking him into submission, an act that results in T.C. congratulating his daughter and allowing her control over the land.  Yet T.C.'s previous egregious behavior inevitably leads to him being gunned down by the remaining members of the Herrera family and act that leads Vance and her now fiancé Rip to plan on naming their first child after her late father.

It is no mystery that Westerns often borrow their narratives from other well established literary or filmic works, in many cases films borrow directly from Wagnerian operas or from classic samurai flicks.  Anthony Mann, on the other hand, had a very well-documented and feverish desire to create the perfect King Lear adaptation.  To a degree The Furies is almost a King Lear adaptation, in the blind patriarchal ambition and it is in this particular devotion to Shakespearian figures that one can find western tropes within The Furies being embrace and rejected, at times, simultaneously.  The King Lear figure is decidedly a masculine one, and those he is attempting to pass his land along to are decidedly male as well.  Mann in his quest for the appropriate replacement for the figure, creates an absurdly blinded vision of Lear that is highly metaphorical and not the literal "let him smell his way to Dover" one of the play.  The absurdity is no less present though, particularly in his refusal to allow his daughter to run The Furies despite a clear and established ability to do so successfully, it is this very issue of gender that both bends the idea of domestic roles, as well as the figures within the classical text.  Shakespeare who was no denier of gender bending, think The Twelfth Night or A Midsummer Night's Dream, and it would not be unreasonable to consider a version of Lear where the son's are replaced by daughters, or in this case at least one daughter who is attempting to assert herself as a masculine figure.  Stanwyck performs this role masterfully, moving through spaces in an erect and assertive manner, however, the narrative falters when she meets Rip who knocks down any assumptions she has about her ability to be a patriarchal figure and assert her authority.  This is perhaps where Mann loses his ability to commit to a real possibility for a new consideration of Lear.  What could have been a revolutionary statement of domesticity and classic adaptations flails in the end to tie up lose ends in a traditionalist notion, one that would allow for audiences to embrace the film without the confusion of a somewhat familiar story ending in a new way.  Ultimately, Mann succeeds more than he fails in his particular adaptation, it should just be noted that his reliance, even if minimal, on western genre tropes result in a failure to grasp the final rung of perfection in the films closing moments.

Key Scene:  The shootout between T.C. and the Herrera family is wonderful and really speaks to the psychological divisions of the film, as well as showing the wonderful way a world was filmed under Mann's direction.

This is a must grab, almost solely because Criterion puts more effort into a transfer and supplements than is remotely necessary.  The article provided is especially excellent, not to mention the inclusion of the book for which this film was based.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Dog Is Alive!: Frankenweenie (2012)

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

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

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

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

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

I Saw Your Name In Huge Letters: A Simple Life (2012)

As I may have mentioned at some point on the blog, I am currently attending graduate school for library and information sciences, with a special focus in digital preservation.  As such, I am afforded the very welcomed opportunity to volunteer at the Moving Images Research Collection in South Carolina where I primarily work on viewing and cataloguing police training videos.  However, one of the side project I have had the pleasure of engaging in focuses on Chinese film, particularly helping  with a conference on topics relating to Chinese film.  This weekend, as many may know, marked the beginning of the Chinese New Year, in which MIRC, as well as University of South Carolina's Confucius Institute put on a Chinese Film Festival at the local independent theater, in which they showed a variety of different films from the past few years in Chinese film, most notably A Simple Life a film of great stature in China, as well as one directed by Ann Hui a prominent Chinese filmmaker who also happens to be a woman.  I came into this film only being aware that Ann Hui was a bit of an art house icon in China and was only beginning to make her name on a global market, however, I had been assured by many fans and experts in Chinese film that she was a big deal and that her films were well worth exploring.  Going into A Simple Life, I assumed that the film would be quite cinematic and terribly heart-wrenching considering the films narrative thread, however, what I did not expect was for the film to be a perfected lesson in poetic realism.  Hui's film moves through a narrative space with equal parts serenity and solemnity providing what could easily be described as the perfect hybridization of the stylistic methods of the late Japanese master Yasujiro Ozu and prominent Chinese director Wong Kar-Wai.  A Simple Life clearly went under the radar in 2011/2012, competing with a decidedly political set of foreign films, many of which considered the nature and effects of war.  While A Simple Life certainly incorporates a heavy amount of comedy in its execution, one would be a fool to miss the very serious commentaries existing within the narrative, as well as one of the most envisioned non-traditional family narratives ever considered.


A Simple Life centers on Ah Tao (Deanie Ip) an aging maid for the wealthy director Roger (Andy Lau) whose bachelor lifestyle has never really come undone, particularly considering that Tao clearly exists as a maternal figure to the not-so-young man.  When Tao suffers an unexpected stroke Roger is left to reconsider his role as a caregiver to an individual who has provided him so much love over the entirety of his life, in fact, Tao has been the servant to his family for some sixty odd years, in what apparently began as a political revolution.  Despite his considerably busy schedule as a director, Roger attempts to care hand and foot for Tao, who is bothered by this and demands that she be placed into a retirement home, even against Roger's concerns, knowing fully the sleazy nature of such establishments.  Fortunately, Roger is able to place Tao into a home ran by a former stuntman and assures that she is taken care of financially and emotionally.  No amount of careful oversight on the part of Roger manages to block Tao from experiencing the rather dreadful state of being elderly in contemporary China, whether it be encounters with half-assed charity outreach groups, or with frustrated caretakers who become physically aggressive with problematic patients.  Tao serves as sort of angel of the retirement home in her gentle demeanor sharing her food and money with any and everyone, even in instances when the money goes to sinful behavior, or is greatly under underappreciated.  The realization that she will slowly die lies in the back of Tao's mind and is only reaffirmed by witnessing other members of the home pass along, even one of its youngest members Mui (So-yin Hui) whose inability to afford proper dialysis technology leads to her demise.  Knowing that the time Tao has remaining is fleeting, Roger takes her on many trips outside of the retirement home, even bringing her as a date to a big film premiere, as well as along to a Chinese New Year celebration, in which she is able to see her only grandchild who is Chinese-Korean.  Of course, sickness gets the best of Tao and she passes on, but not without having a clear impact on even the most troubled of persons.  In the films closing moments, one is led to believe that her kind spirit lingers on well beyond her passing.

I am not an expert in Chinese culture, nor do I know much about their films beyond being aware of some of the mainland works that were huge in the 90's and being a die hard fan of John Woo's Hardboiled.  Yet, I am rather aware of the issue of aging as it relates to China, one in which the elderly community is pushed aside and nearly forgotten in the face of modernity.  The fact, that many of the characters depicted in the film are elderly folks who are pushed aside does not just ring true for contemporary China, but is, in fact, the case for most of the world, making the universality of A Simple Life land almost immediately.  It is quite easy to relate to Roger who clearly longs to be a close person to his maternal maid, but is also forced away from her in order to fulfill works requirements, most people have a family member for with whom they are close but a variety of factors block their unity.  Another element of the film that stands out its the way in which Tao is clearly far to aware and capable to be placed in the bizarre world of retirements homes where bodies are pushed aside and disability is loathed.  The nurturing nature of Tao kicks into gear immediately and she essentially becomes another nurse, helping persons eat their food or sew a button back onto a coat.  Tao desired to go to the home to  avoid being a burden to Roger, however, the same acts that caused her sickness in the first place seem to occupy her time within the retirement home, much to the disdain of Roger, but to the welcome embrace of the weary employees of the home.  Of course, this story is rather unusual in that Roger does often visit Tao, much more than perhaps she thinks he should, yet no amount of unity and bonding can provide Tao an escape from the drudgery and despondent world of the home and much of this come to fruition during a particularly lonely night at the home.  It demands viewers to consider the very real effects of loneliness, even in a temporary state, although Hui makes it clear that for most persons the loneliness is a long forming experience.  Perhaps it is much more an advocation for create family where possible than a condemning of retirement home culture, but both narratives exist and deserve equal consideration.

Key Scene:  Tao and Roger talking after his movie preview party will go down as one of the sweetest moments I will ever encounter in a film and is guaranteed to yank at your heartstrings.

While it will be near impossible to see in theaters, an impending bluray release is certainly the way to go.  It is a film more than well worth owning.

Listen To Me, I'm Should-ing All Over Myself: Stuart Saves His Family (1995)

I often feel as though I am one of the lone defenders of the brilliance offered by Al Franken during his lengthy stint on Saturday Night Live.  Many of his skits and jokes were absolutely brilliant, but do to some sort of terrible politics going around the office in the early nineties for one reason or another he was rarely allowed to shine.  Now with that being said, Franken did offer viewers with one of the greatest and most under-appreciated characters in the shows long history, Stuart Smalley, the hapless self-help spouting dandy of a man whose own bizarrely troubled past often emerged when he would deal with his guests, many of which were famous, think back to his scenes with both Michael Jordan and Macaulay Culkin for specific examples.  Now I am quite aware that a character from Saturday Night Live rarely makes an appropriate transition to the film space, take Pat, The Night At The Roxbury Guys or even MacGruder as blatant examples of this, however, on a rare occasion something happens and a surprisingly decent film emerges from the result, whether it be The Coneheads, Blues Brothers or even the surprisingly watchable Superstar.  The beauty of Stuart Saves His Family, however, is that although it does draw its inspiration directly from a character Franken made for the show, it could beautifully work as a standalone film, one in which Stuart exists entirely in his own world and does not rely too heavily on the acts and quotes that made his character popular on the show, or to be more succinct, Stuart Smalley could have been a great character were this the first time we were to be introduced to him on screen.  Now I am also quite aware that much of this films magic and enjoyment probably resides in the fact that Harold Ramis directed the film, and my adoration for his films An American Werewolf In London and Groundhog Day, not to mention my love for Caddy Shack for before I began writing this blog.  Stuart Saves His Family tanked at the box offices and led to one of Franken's funnier Smalley performances, in which he spirals into shame eating, however, its failure to maintain numbers and return profit do not properly reflect how exceptional of a comedy this has become over the years.  It deserves to be mentioned among some of the comedy classics and certainly needs to be lifted out of its ever expanding obscurity.

Stuart Saves His Family, as I have noted, focuses on the life of Stuart Smalley (Al Franken) a self-help coach whose show on a public access channel has recently been cancelled due to a dispute he had between himself and the stations manager the rotund and virulent Roz Weinstock (Camille Saviola).  Already dealing with the shame of this occurrence, Stuart locks himself in his apartment much to the dismay of his friends, most notably his Al-Anon coach Julia (Laura San Giacomo).  To make matters worse, Stuart receives a call from his sister Jodie (Leslie Boone) explaining that their aunt has died, which has caused an uproar within the family.  Forced to return home in hopes of fixing the divide, viewers are introduced to the addiction fueled Smalley family, whether it be Stuart's pot smoking zombie-like brother Donnie, played with a surprising deal of commitment by Vincent D'Onofrio, or his overeating Mom (Shirley Knight).  Yet it is quite clear that much of the family trouble emerges from his Dad (Harris Yulin) who suffers from a serious case of alcoholism.  When it is revealed that their beloved Aunt cannot be buried in her desired plot, Donnie and Dad take it to cops ending up in their arrest and the desire of Stuart to wash his hands of the entire mess.  Heading back to his hometown it is revealed that Stuart has been offered a job at Health Cable Network because they find his show powerful and necessary viewing.  It is during his recording of this show that he is informed that the family is now finding trouble selling their Aunt's house due to it being built on another individuals property.  Attempting to make amends with the neighbor, Stuart only makes matters worse causing the neighbor to demand more money an act that is not cleared up in court, but only saved due to Stuart's insistence on honesty.  In the process the family comes to accept that their father is indeed a serious alcoholic when he drunkenly shoots Donnie during a hunting accident.  The family then has an intervention forcing themselves to acknowledge their various addictions and leading to Stuart indirectly saving his family, especially Donnie who goes so far as to follow Stuart back to his city in an attempt to  get his life on track, the loving Stuart takes him in with no question whatsoever.

Stuart Saves His Family is a masterful comedy, although the funny elements of this film are clearly masking a larger commentary on the problems of escapism plaguing an America that Franken saw emerging during the late eighties and early nineties.  Stuart's parents are clearly quite conservative and fail to deal with a changing landscape, one that is most obviously evidenced by their inability to comprehend Stuart's lifestyle, one that is not traditionally masculine, and as such leads them to assume he is a gay and therefore a shame on the family.  To some degree their lack of understanding to Stuart's unique identity causes them to seek solace in substance abuse.  Similarly, Jodie attempts to maintain a heteronormative lifestyle, yet since she only seems to find abusive and disrespectful husbands she cannot maintain any degree of an ideal lifestyle, leading to a hypochondriac lifestyle which results in her latching on to others.  Donnie has also clearly failed to escape his own failed dreams and has all but given up, in fact, if it were not for Stuart viewers could assume that he would have returned on another dangerous hunting trip without even thinking about the consequences.  Stuart serves as a character whose addiction is not necessarily obvious, while he certainly does not abuse substances he seeks understanding and safety through sacrificing himself to others, which indirectly allows him to ignore his own problems.  It is not until Stuart begins concerning himself with himself that he is able to make positive changes in his life, two of which come in the form of his new show and a burgeoning relationship with Julia.  However, Franken is clear in his script to suggest that while individual acceptance is nice it often takes a group to help conquer larger problems and the two elements must work interchangeably and if that means leaving your family in order to find friends that help you achieve those goals then so be it, often times an individual can only help so much before it is the other persons responsibility to make changes.  The ending of the film reminds viewers that if you at least try to show people this it will often be enough for them to take the next step.

Key Scene:  Some of the flashbacks that are intercut with Stuart's travels are quite enjoyable and help to advance portions of the plot along without spending too much time on detracting from narrative, perhaps the best example of this occurs with the naming of the Ajax Knight scene from Stuart's childhood.

So the DVD for this film is OOP and quite expensive, I intend to get one by hook or crook at some point, however, within the past few days Netflix added this to their Watch Instantly queue and very much made my day.  Please watch this masterpiece and criminally underrated film as a hopes to bring it somewhat out of obscurity.

I Watched Signs Again Last Night: Jeff, Who Lives At Home (2011)

Sometimes making an enjoyable film is as simple as gathering together a few recognizable actors, throwing together a vaguely existential, yet sweetly honest script and a healthy dose of handheld camera action.  At least, that is how the Duplass brothers make filmmaking seem with their standout dark comedy Jeff, Who Lives At Home.  Placing much of its conceptual development in the notion that "things happen for a reason," the film is a welcoming ride of ups and so-so many downs between a family still grasping for their identity even into adulthood and old age.  Profound and revolutionary are not words I would ever toss at this film to describe its nature, but I would say that it hits its point with accuracy and wit.  Similar to their previous film Cyrus, this duo of directors have resuscitated independent filmmaking for me, something I have already said, but feel wholly obliged to remind my small readership.  The beauty of this film is that nothing is overdone, the acting is surprising restrained considering it is full of notably comedic actors, particularly Ed Helms who manages to make his loud method of acting work perfectly as a man flailing through his own disillusion.  Furthermore, the filmic narrative resides in the frame of a single day making the interconnectedness of each occurrence that much more meaningful and interesting.  While their visions of films clearly do not adhere to the norms of Hollywood tradition, the Duplass method of filmmaking is realized and seems assured to provide a ponderous and enjoyable movie.  Not to mention the film is set in Louisiana, always adding a degree of coolness to a film, even one such like this film.

Jeff, Who Lives At Home, as you might imagine does deal with a man named Jeff (Jason Segal) who still lives in his mothers basement.  While we are introduced to Jeff breaking the fourth wall and explaining the profound brilliance of the horror thriller Signs, it becomes evident that it is by no means entirely his story.  Along with Jeff is his brother Pat (Ed Helms) who desires so greatly to be and look successful that he uses his meager wages to buy an outdated Porsche, something that pushes his fiancé Linda (Judy Greer) over the edge, leading to her leaving him in frustration.  Along with this, there is Jeff and Pat's mother Sharon (Susan Sarandon) who is going through the motions of her dead end job and desires longingly to escape to a waterfall paradise.  Jeff moves through the film on a drug-fueled quest to find a man named Kevin, which leads to his eventual mugging and accidental meeting up with Pat, who himself is out escaping the feelings of despair, a result of Linda's leaving.  The two end up joining together on a quest to both find the elusive Kevin and for Pat to rekindle his relationship with Linda.  Meanwhile, Sharon becomes the point of affection for a secret admirer at her work, something she latches onto with joy.  However, as the narrative flows each comes to a realization that the thing they desire is unlikely to manifest it in the manner they would like, Jeff cannot find a quantifiable existence to Kevin, Pat realizes the Linda may be seeing another man and Sharon comes to realize that her ideals about her crush may not be anything she imagined.  Ultimately, the three meet up in a climactic bridge scene that has each of them redeem themselves, most importantly Jeff who seeks validation for his rather desultory life, manages to undertake a heroic action that makes him respected to the rest of his family.  It should be noted that the entire narrative is advanced by a simple task of needing to purchase wood glue.

The clear point of commentary within Jeff, Who Lives At Home is the lack of patriarchal intervention throughout the narrative.  Like Cyrus, the film focuses on a family still struggling from the lack of a paternal, or masculine, figure within their lives.  Sharon, as well as her two sons, make note of how difficult a lack of father proves to be in their daily lives, particularly Jeff who makes it the sole factor into his seemingly ineffectual lifestyle.  However, what the Duplass brothers suggest in their film is that the emergence of a father figure is not only unnecessary, but completely illogical.  Each character comes to their own personal realizations that their lives are completely their own, not to be oppressed by an unseen masculine figure who has clearly negatively affected their lives.  Jeff, who already relates to the feminine, as is clear in his monologue on Signs, manages to find a means to be heroic without asserting masculinity on a continual basis, while Pat learns to distance himself from the assumed notion that male dominance is understood and that the question of a female partner is not only acceptable, but ideal for a healthy relationship.   More importantly, without giving away the plot, Sharon also realizes the the void in her life does not need to be replaced by a male figure and she manages in an almost magical realist moment to come to terms with her own identity and self worth.  I know nothing about the Duplass Brothers personal lives, but I would venture to say that the amount of honesty in each of their works suggests that they may well have experienced many of the films moments in their own realities.

Key Scene: It involves lots and lots of running.

While I could sing the praises of Jeff, Who Lives At Home for hours, I am aware that it is by no means a must-own film.  In fact, I would fully suggest renting the film and enjoying it, because it is a great example of what indie film could and should be at this time in filmmaking.  Also the Michael Andrews soundtrack is perfect.

There Is No Happy Love: 8 Women (2002)

The tagline for this move was simple: 8 Women, 1 Murder.  I will admit that it is not the greatest of taglines and led me to be a bit dismissive about the French work initially, however, it is seriously a film about the murder of one male and eight women who attempt to come to grips and find the culprit.  With that being said, 8 Women is fantastically quirky and completely beyond anything I could have possibly predicted.  The opening title sequence is rather frilly and almost tacky, perhaps intentional on the part of director Francois Ozon and delivers a commentary of what the film will be, a group of women acting in the most dramatic and frivolous ways possible as they attempt to make somewhat tacky excuses to their various misdeeds.  A combination of slapstick humor, musical numbers and snide humor, 8 Women is a  film that has inevitably redeemed my faith in French comedies.  Somewhere between the hipness of Godard and the whimsy of Almodovar lays 8 Women.  A colorful film, with a mind of its own, provides a complete reimagining of what we, as viewers, have come to recognize as a thriller.  Furthermore, despite the narrative being heavily involved in the notion that women are inherently deceptive, one cannot deny that it should be praised for having a cast that is composed nearly entirely of women, and the one male present only amounts to maybe a minute of screen time.  If for no other reason than because the film is riotously fun, it is a must-watch movie.

8 Women, as the title suggests, follows a group of 8 contentious women who are all recouping with the recent announcement that the familial head, patriarchal figure Marcel (Dominique Lamure), has been the victim of a murder.  This leads the house into unrest, initially with Marcel's discovery by his youngest daughter Catherine (Ludivine Sagnier) who constantly vies for the adoration and acknowledgement of pretty much anyone.  Catherine's sister, and Marcel's other daughter Suzon (Virgine Ledoyen) also become involved with the plot as she has recently returned home from college.  Marcel's wife Gaby (Catherine Deneuve) is also present, although she makes it clear that their relationship was strained.  Marny (Daniell Darrieux) is also in attendance as the mother in law to Marcel, she lives with both Marcel and Gaby in her old age.  Gaby's sister Augustine (Isabelle Huppert) is also a resident of the house because she suffers from a variety of heart issues making living alone inconceivable, add to the mix two maids and Marcel's own sister and paranoid claims arise instantly.  As each accusation flies it becomes clear that deception has existed within Marcel's household far before his recent death, ranging from affairs, to back door card games and a series of problematic business dealings that seem to put the biggest amount of strain on the entire family.  As the plot thickens, or falls apart depending on a persons interpretation, it becomes evident that each woman involved has a considerable secret they are hiding and combined together results in an unfathomable amount of deception, all that is blown away by a new fact about Marcel's death that will even surprise the most versed of film viewers.

It is hard to completely praise the film for its depictions of women in main roles as much of what is shown is egregiously problematic.  First off, the film clearly posits that women are amongst other things hysterical, deceptive, sex-crazed and vampiric in their craze for money.  None of these of course are factual claims about women in general and merely serve as a means of narrative continuation, played up to comedic proportions.  Furthermore, it is an issue that a film depicts women distrusting one another, but that again serves as narrative advancement and simply just needs to be acknowledge.  What the film does right is depict a group of women together, one in which they completely possess the narrative.  It is a woman-centered film, with women in it and only lacks a female director to complete the trifecta.  I would have to revisit the film to see if it passes the Bechdel Test, because considering that Marcel's death does serve as an overarching factor it is possible that it fails the test on the grounds of nobody having a conversation without mentioning a male figure.  Another notable factor of the film is that it approaches issues of gender, class and race simultaneously in a film, something I have only seen done one other time in French film via Black Girl, a film I highly recommend.  I hate to go with the statement that some acknowledgement is better than none, but in the case of such a fun and enjoyable film as 8 Women I cannot recommend it enough and praise it for what it does accomplish critically.

Key Scene: The initial song and dance number is most excellent, probably due to the fact that it is so unexpected.

8 Women is a film well worth renting and viewing, if you are an ardent Francophile then purchasing might be an option as well.

There's Nothing Out There: The Mist (2007)

Let me get this out up front.  I am a huge proponent of director's intent.  I loathe Ted Turner's push to "colorize" classic films like It's A Wonderful Life amongst others.  Furthermore, I am completely opposed to when production companies force directors to sacrifice their visions in the name of ticket sales and accessibility.  This was the case for Frank Darabont's adaptation of Stephen King's novella The Mist.  Darbont's intent was to release the film in black and white for a variety of cinematic and thematic reasons, yet; his producers refused him this right and demanded that it be in color.  While I cannot speak to it being the reason it fell to the wayside that year for horror films, I strongly feel as though its critical acclaim may have increased considerably were he allowed to film it with the chiaroscuro elements of black and white present.  Luckily, for cinephiles, the most recent DVD release includes the black and white version of the film as an extra disc feature and it is the vision that this post shall review, because I am simply going to pretend the color version does not exist.  With the choice to remove color, The Mist becomes a much more astute social commentary that emits moments of abrasive imagery that makes viewers cringe in discomfort, much like Tony Kaye's seminal documentary on Abortion titled Lake of Fire...a term that to no surprise emerges on at least one occasion within The Mist.  If it were not for Kubrick's version of The Shining, Darabont's adaptation could well be my new favorite take on a Stephen King work, although it appears that at least one movie a year is an adaptation of the prolific writers work, so that statement could change quite quickly.

The Mist focuses on life in a rural Maine town following a storm of cataclysmic proportions.  Painter David Drayton (Thomas Jane) serves as the films main character, as he attempts to make amends with his neighbor Brent Norton (Andre Braughber) after a tree from his yard destroys his boathouse.  Realizing the frivolity of the entire situation, both David and Brent, along with David's son Billy (Nathan Gamble) head to the town grocery to gather supplies to begin repairing their respective houses.  While the power is out at the grocery things seem relatively normal and each begins doing their shopping, however, things become unusual as military police begin showing up and demanding that a group of young recruits cut their leave short to help in clean up.  Things grow suspicious quickly and are only worsened when a town resident runs out of the mist into the store claiming to have viewed something in the dense fog.  This event begins the flickers of paranoia within the grocery store, which will provide the setting for most of the films remainder, as David leads an expedition to the stores docking bay, which proves the claims of a creature being in the mist to be true.  A tentacled beast and many mutated bugs exist in the fog and begin preying on the various people within the grocery.  At this point, things begin to fall apart within the store, people begin arguing over whether or not to stay, which ultimately proves to be the dividing point between David and Brent.  Furthermore, a fire and brimstone spouting woman begins to convert followers with her claims of the mist and the beasts as being a sing of the end of days.  While at first her claims are dismissed, with the death of various people and the continual attacks of the monsters she begins to recruit followers, eventually becoming so maddened as to suggest sacrificing Billy to the creature.  David reacts quickly and with the help of a handful of other people escapes the grocery store and grabs a truck to escape.  On their drive out of town, toward Portland, they see the various creatures, most notably a gigantic spider like beast roaming above them.  Along the way they run out of gas, completely incapable of doing anything, David uses a gun to take those travelling with him out of their misery, including his own son.  He is left alone without any bullets to linger in loneliness.  As David steps out of his car to scream in agonizing defeat, military vehicles drive by him to rescue survivors and burn down the infestations of the monsters, if only his group had waited ten more minutes they would have survived the entire ordeal.

The Mist, as Darabont has stated himself, is not about the monsters that exist in the exterior world of the film, but instead those that exist in the interior minds of the people within the film, whether it be David's own struggle to assert himself as a respectable father, or Brent's concern with proving himself as a respectable outsider, even if doing so means legal actions.  Even the narratives secondary characters find themselves battling inner demons, most notably Ollie (Toby Jones) the stores assistant manager who constantly struggles to assert authority despite being of small stature and his being victim to continual ridicule by his superior.  King's work also exudes the issues of religious proclamations in the face of troubled times and in Darabont's adaptation it is clearly suggested that the religious zealot Mrs. Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden) is doing more harm than good by proselytizing to the individuals trapped in the store.  However, Darabont also chooses not to depict her character's imminent death, perhaps as a bleak commentary on the future of religious extremism in America.  Finally, the film has a certain timelessness about it, something that Darbont admitted to intending within the film, while David certainly possesses as cellular phone, everything else within the film suggests a an America from various generations, whether it be the 80's style vehicles or the 50's feel of the town grocery.  The struggles and turmoils of an American unity is central to the film and The Mist reminds viewers that a constant demand for opposition only hinders America.  I am unintentionally on a kick of "storm as a metaphor" films, but I do not mind that considering that, they have all been enjoyable and it seems as though the paranoia of something worse to come is pertinent in the rhetoric of the upcoming political election, as well as the continually worsening state of the world economy. 

Key Scene: The scene in which David finds his wife after leaving the grocery store is incredibly oneiric.

The Mist in black and white is something to be viewed, while it is not an incredibly important film it is quite enjoyable and worth renting, although make sure to get the second disc, because that is where you will find the black and white version which is the one you want to watch.

Say Hello, She Is Like Your Second Mother: Carnivore; Beasts of Prey (1985)

I remember pondering all the possibilities of American influence on Japanese cinema upon initially entering into heavy film viewing.  I would watch films like Vengeance Is Mine and Jigoku and find myself drawn to their similarities to what was being done in America during the era.  I was quite certain that no other country displayed influences form The United States in quite a way, until I sat down to watch a relatively old Korean film in Kim Ki-Youngs Carnivore, also known as Beast of Prey and Carnivorous Animal.  A film that is preoccupied with the fears of modernity, particularly those involving shifting gender norms and sexual power dynamics, Carnivore is melodramatic, cinematic and horrific all at once.  I was a bit thrown off when reading that Kim Ki-Young's work was considered to be placed solidly within the horror genre upon initial release, but when viewing this narrative I found it to be fitting, although the work clearly flirts the lines of dark comedy as well.  The movie offers no clear moments of redemption, nor does it provide a single good character, rather ironic for a film steeped in the traditions of melodrama.  As has been the case for so many Korean films thus far, Carnivore does not succinctly fall into one single genre, in fact it is very much a hybrid of multiple genres, layered together, at times rather abrasively, but mostly with flawless precision.

Carnivore follows Kim Dong-sik, an aging securities firm employee, who is becoming forced to take a back seat to his wife's successful business ventures in transports.  He begins to question his own masculinity and spends much of his time drinking at a local bar, which clearly doubles as a brothel.  This action is only worsened by the fact that his wife also spends her evenings at a bar for women to meet young gigolos.  During one particularly bad night, Kim blows a large some of money at the bar chatting with a young woman.  The madame of the bar-brothel tells the young woman that she is responsible for obtaining his large bill and suggests she offer herself sexually to recoup the debt.  Engaging in a rather brief sexual encounter in the back of Kim's car, the woman becomes infatuated with Kim and demands that they move in together.  At first dismissive, Kim finally agrees to build two homes as he realizes his wife and himself are doomed for failure.  Despite the concerns of his whole family, Kim engages in the two homes and finds himself revitalized by the lust and vivacity of a younger woman.  However, the lines between his first family and his new mistress begin to blur and come to a climactic crash during a birthday celebration in which his family and lover are simultaneously present.  The mistress, engulfed with jealously demands that Kim spend the night with her, an action that would directly break the agreement between his wife and the mistress.  Regardless of the pact, Kim agrees to stay with dire results, after a fiery round of intercourse, the mistress stabs Kim and he falls down the stairs in defeat, just as his family enters the house to inquire to his tardiness.  The film then closes with claims of the events being based off real events, a fact that I am unsure about.

I mentioned this film being squarely in the horror genre, much like Audition, much of the film seems rather mundane and unfit for the genre.  However, for those of you who have seen Miike's dark work, it become clear in the back half of the film that it is something grotesque and completely horrific.  The last thirty minutes of Carnivore certainly adhere to this notion between the stabbing and the slipping sanity of those involved within the bizarre love triangle.  This bit of action, does not fully explain the horror within such a film though, instead the disturbing qualities within the film rest solely in the absurd, something that directors like Hitchcock used extensively in their horror works.  Arguably, a viewer knows that what is being depicted is not normal; however, the characters within the narrative treat it as the usual, recall Vertigo if you have any questions.  Between the unquestioned visits to gigolos and Kim being dressed as a baby, nothing is made to seem out of the ordinary.  Even the agreement between Kim's wife and mistress seems bizarre, because it is done so with almost business like formality.  It has been said that Korean audiences laughed loudly at many of the scenes within the film, I can imagine that it is due partly to the ridiculous scenarios depicted; however, I would also venture to say that it is from a bit of discomfort at the fears of such actions occurring as a result of modernity.  I cannot claim this to be one of my favorite horror films, but the unusual approach to such a genre and its clear intention to mesh genres may very well make it one of my favorite genre hybrids.  It is realized and incredibly scathing in its intentions.

Key Scene:  The scene in which Kim begs for candy is absolutely brilliant...you will know it when it happens.

This films accessibility suffers from region locks and the like, yet, thanks to the Korean Film Archive it is instantly available, with subtitles, on Youtube.  Please take advantage of this viewing opportunity before the film is inevitably removed for some stupid reason.