Fortune Is Allied To The Brave: Clash Of The Titans (1981)

I am riding the wave of repetitive blog posts in the New Year!  While it was not a goal of mine to compose a single blog for every day of the year,  as conferences and school will, undoubtedly, get in the way, I am currently afforded plenty of free time and know that there is little excuse as to not make an earnest endeavor to tackle this possibility.  I am also plowing through movies at a fast rate and figured that reflecting on at least one a day would be beneficial.  As such, viewing Clash of the Titans yesterday proved to be the most promising blog post, not because it was in any way the best viewing experience of the day, but more so because it offered me the best chance to navigate a theoretical framework, this one inspired by existentialism, a near and dear philosophical framework of mine that I have become far too detached from in recent years.  Clash of the Titans is a film that has become adored some three decades later not for it being a particularly key narrative offering in the fantasy genre--the middle portion actually drags quite a bit--but has been noted for its interesting use of claymation in a moment when special effects were still moving into the world of CGI, but not completely feasible.  Works like this and Repo Man attempted audacious things with lesser special effects forms and in both cases excel at this incredibly.  What manages to make Clash of the Titans that much more enjoyable is the variety of noted performers who offer their services to the narrative, whether they be the likes of Maggie Smith who would have still been establishing herself as an actress, or the more prolific performances by the great Laurence Olivier and star of the most adored of Twilight Zone episodes Burgess Meredith.  Hell, this film even includes Ursula Andress in a non-Dr. No role which is also a nice thing to see, as she has become unfairly attached to that film.  Clash of the Titans, at first glance, would appear to be a very childish narrative with the special effects magic to reinforce such notions, yet as the narrative unfolds and ethical boundaries become crossed, it becomes rather evident that not only is this a tale with enough tragedy and happenstance to prove quite adult in its scope, it is also a film that considers whether or not the presence of a divine force is truly a blessing, or if the bizarre workings of the natural world are simply out to get even the most well-intentioned of persons.

The Clash of the Titans focus on the deliberations and defiances between the gods of antiquity as the plan to move for power with their respective mortal beings, some of which are through divine ordination their offsprings.  Zeus (Laurence Olivier) in particular is concerned with the well being of his own child Perseus (Harry Hamlin) who is but a small child who has been banished alongside his mother to a remote island to live out his days, an act undertaken by Thetis (Maggie Smith) who has allowed for her own earthy child Calibos (Neil McCarthy) to run wild and act in the most vile of manners.  As such, Zeus with his infinite power has turned the evil Calibos into a figure that properly reflects his own terrible actions.  In a vengeful act, Thetis relocates the young Perseus to a remote island where he is to fend for himself, while attempting to reclaim the kingdom an act which is predicated upon him achieving the affections of a young princess, as well as returning the head of Medusa to a city.  If Perseus fails to achieve this task, Zeus and Thetis come to an agreement that he will release the monstrous Kraken upon the land, much to the concern and confusion of Poseiden (Jack Gwillim).  While Thetis does her best to put up obstacles for Perseus, Zeus is able to recruit the help of the other goddesses in the temple, specifically, Athena (Susan Fleetwood), Aphrodite (Ursula Andress) and Hera (Claire Bloom).  In doing so, Perseus is provided with a set of weapons and devices that makes his navigation of the new lands slightly less challenging, although he still is forced to face off against a variety of mythological beasts, including giant scorpions and Cerebus, al leading to his eventual confrontations with both Calibos and Medusa.  Fortunately, Perseus is also afforded an earthly guide through the figure of Ammon (Burgess Meredith) a poet and oracle of sorts that helps Perseus to translate the messages from the gods and make the best use of the gifts he is given.  While it would appear as though Perseus simply lacks the necessary strength to overcome the powerful Kraken, a last minute boost from his animal companion Pegasus proves enough to succeed, thus making his status as a king amongst men certain, even pushing to a reality where he might achieve the status of a Titan himself.

I think the last time I discussed the notion of game theory here on the blog was in regards to the surprisingly enjoyable and decently executed The Cooler, wherein William H. Macy's character represents a figure who is some how divinely unlucky, predisposed to have the world against him, although it is later evidenced that his playing in a larger game of performances and backstabbing had something to do with this.   Nonetheless, game theory denotes a reality where contingency and chance play as much a role in the occurrences of a character as do their skill and prowess, often times luck, or the lack thereof making for the ultimate deciding factor.  Indeed, I would most comfortably apply the ideas of game theory to the likes of film noir where they are most fitting.  With this in mind I still think a case could be made for Clash of the Titans working within this framework in a notable and interesting way, if not outwardly evidenced in the way that Perseus and other figures within the narrative are literally the pawns of the gods rivalry, ones that can be molded, moved and revived merely by a waving of their respective hands.  This realization takes the paranoia latent in the game theory as it relates to something like a crime thriller and puts it into its most realized form as it is a game, and regardless of what Perseus, Calibos or any other earthly figures might attempt, it is still contingent upon the gods playing a larger game with their bodies.  Of course, that is not to say that the skill and precision of the earthy manifestations do not still play a factor.  While both Zeus and Thetis could do their best to give various advantages to their pawns a randomness is still at play.  Suffice it to say, the battle between Medusa and Perseus could have gone a variety of ways and from a statistical standpoint (something key to game theory) Perseus should have lost out, but his low victory percentage is raised ever so slightly by possessing a shield and sword as to make victory feasible.  This paired with his own self-growth made for a push to Titan like statistical probability, all overseen by the hands of Zeus, that allow for him to easily destroy the Kraken.  Game theory, by pure narrative necessity, might be at its most realized in Clash of the Titans.

Key Scene:  The Medusa battle, despite using a now well-dated special effects method is still incredibly cinematic and highly engaging.

This film is well worth your time, but probably is of keen interest to me from a theoretical standpoint, as such I strongly urge a rental first.

Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain: The Wizard Of Oz (1939)

I have on occasion tackled some of the grander works in cinema, hoping to shed some semblance of light upon their established state as classics.  Usually, I flail to come up with anything profound or new to offer to the equation or spend much of my time convincing those who read this blog that revisiting this work is well worth their time, particularly since things like King Kong and Singin' In The Rain are often overlook primarily because both moderate film fans and cinephiles alike think they know the film and do not bother to engage with it in any way.  Other works like Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey are constantly reproached because while you do know how great the film if, it always manages to be considerably better upon the second, third or tenth encounter.  These are the films that grow as one grows in their ability to understand and consume film.  I would not suggest that this is impossible for the other films already mentioned but it works on a different layer.  I would absolutely place The Wizard of Oz with the likes of Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey, particularly since I knew going in that it was already a phenomenal work one that captivated me as a young child and at that point in time the film was only 60 years old or so.  Now reaching its 75th anniversary, the stunning bluray upgrade I was able to watch affords it a new layer of interpretation, engagement and genuinely equal cinematic escapism as the work, undoubtedly, did when first in theaters.  Like Citizen Kane the narrative here is so precise and honed that even in its surprising brevity it manages to sweep viewers into the real and the fantastical simultaneously and much like 2001, the cinematic achievements both in scope and execution lead even an expert in cinematic trickery to wonder exactly how such shots were attained.  It is a concoction of perfection that exists in a space of maybe ten or twenty films to date, thus helping to explain its wide influence and adoration from noted cult directors to art house cinephiles with pretentious palettes.  Simply put to not love The Wizard of Oz is by its very extension to not love cinema itself.

The Wizard of Oz centers on the young wide-eyed Dorothy (Judy Garland) who wants nothing more than to assure the safety of her dog Toto from the animosity and outrage of a local woman who blames it for the entire downfall of society.  Despite having the love of her Auntie Em (Clara Blandick) and Uncle Henry (Charlie Grapewin) and the adoration of the local farmers, Dorothy is distraught at the possibility that one person could lead to her losing her beloved dog and flees to the outskirts of town to avoid such occurrence, there meeting Professor Marvel (Frank Morgan) a trickster who helps Dorothy to believe in the future that she will avoid such troubles.  Yet on the way home, Dorothy is caught in a tornado, one that knocks her unconscious and leads her on a trip via her house to a magical land full of color, munchkins and a variety of witches both good and evil, most notably The Good Witch Glinda (Billie Burke) and her counterpart The Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton) who takes a striking resemblance to the same woman who attempted to rid Dorothy of Toto.  Informed that Dorothy might be able to return home if she follows a yellow brick road to Emerald City wherein she will find The Wizard of Oz who will be capable of helping her to return to Kansas where she belongs.  Along the way, Dorothy makes a few friends in The Scarecrow (Ray Bolger) who hopes to find himself some brains, The Tin Man (Jack Haley) looking for a heart and The Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr) who only hopes to attain courage.  Together the group hopes to collectively find help from The Wizard.  Upon arrival they are given the spa treatment, before meeting The Wizard, a floating head projection that explains he will gladly help if the group is capable of taking down The Wicked Witch of the West and returning with her broom.  Meeting up with flying monkeys, and a variety of other trickeries at the hands of the Wicked Witch, the group is eventually successful if only by accident.  Upon returning they are initially denied aid by The Wizard, but when they discover his projection to be a false extension and merely an operation via mechanics they demand his end of the bargain.  Giving the group items that signify their desires, while offering Dorothy a ride home in his hot air balloon all seems ideal.  Although Dorothy misses the ride, only to be told by Glinda of an alternative means home via her earlier attained ruby slippers.  Upon performing the suggested task, Dorothy is able to return to Kansas where she recollects her wild experiences to a some what skeptical group, save for the seemingly knowing Professor Marvel.

There are tons of ways to talk about this film, some from purely historical approaches, while others could solely stand this up against its literary inspiration.  However, I am going to go in the same direction I always go when talking about Judy Garland films while also extending it outward to consider the whole film, and that is the notion of performed bodies.  Take for example, Dorothy herself whose femininity comes at odds with the other witches upon arrival in Oz.  Here her prettiness is a thing to be admired by the munchkins while also being vilified by the Wicked Witch who sees it in contrast to her wickedness, verified in the classic scene of her melting.  Of course, the other bodies in question include the Scarecrow who is a literal manifestation of the straw man argument of philosophy, one that is built up but really contains no tangible  or logical grounding.  The body of the scarecrow is lacking in brains, or more accurately a means with which to verify such knowledge, whereas the Tin Man wants a heart, his performance of "maleness" in that he is allegedly a man made of tin is one of hard exterior that is so lacking in the emotive as to become frozen in immobility, only made to move again by oil, which must be applied by others.  However, the most interesting character becomes The Cowardly Lion whose organic composition suggests him to be similar to human, although his cowardliness is somehow more tied to a performance of his lionesque identity.  He is expected to be brutish and mean, although he is far more demure and passive.  The certain accentuation Lahr adds to the character goes along way in suggesting the Cowardly Lion to not be cowardly per se, but non-normative in his performance of masculinity, or to go a step further one of gayness.  It is fascinating that the means with which the three bodies become reinscribed with their desires is through signifiers, one receiving a diploma and another a badge.  These are additions to their performed selves that are externalized, but not internal.  As is the case for the tin man receive a heart pendant that is also a clock, the implications this carries for what represents emotion as being temporal are astounding and fascinating, a statement that speaks to the confounding but engaging nature of the film overall.

Key Scene:  It is all good, but the actual moving onto the yellow brick road musical number has such an audacious scope and grandeur that when it succeeds, I actually felt myself gasping in amazement.  Mind you I have seen this film before, but never truly appreciated the impossibility at play.

Bluray. Get it.  NOW.

Deprived Of Lessons, I Decided To Run Away: Fantastic Planet (1973)

Some amazing films I come to the way of multiple suggestions from prolific and reliable sources, whether they be dear friends or noted critics.  Other wonderful experiences with films come from picking up a previously unknown film as part of a package or at a flea market both that probably lifted their merchandise from questionable sources to begin with.  I am fond of the results that come from both of these avenues of discover, however, there is a third set of discoveries that seem to be my personal favorite, those being the movies that I unearth during occasional bouts of insomnia or a general inability to sleep.  Usually hoping to find something with an ambiance or simplicity that will lull me into drowsiness and eventually sleep, I end up finding works whose surreal leanings and captivating narratives challenge my pseudo sleep state to its very core.  In the past movies of this vein have included the surprisingly poignant look at mental illness and online gaming through Ben-X, or jarringly, yet critically realized experimental films like Damned If You Don't.  Last night I found myself facing the rare moment of lethargic awareness and was hesitant to commit to anything lengthy and decided that the cult classic French animated film Fantastic Planet would serve as my point of viewing, because I assumed that it would be easily paused should my weariness overcome me, however, I realized almost seconds into the film, with a shrill opening and freaky aesthetic, that Rene Laloux's animated statement on the nature of human existence, would be stealing the next hour of my possible sleep and I was completely fine with that outcome.  Fantastic Planet, is as its name suggests very fantastical.  In the animation style made known by Terry Gilliam and famous by The Beatles Yellow Submarine, Fantastic Planet takes on a bizarre quality, full of humanoid figures whose blank stares and robotic movements both captivating and disconcerting.  The visuals alone could have been enough for me to completely embrace this work, but the fact that it makes very focused and astute statements about the existential being only add to its importance.  Honestly, I am surprised that I did not find myself completely haunted by nightmares when the film finally, and abruptly ended, its exhaustive nature proving the perfect dose to my quest for rest that happened immediately.

Forbidden Planet begins with the frantic fleeing of an unnamed woman who darts back and forth with her child in hand as objects inexplicably fall from the sky blocking her path of escape, suddenly and very intensely blue fingers and hands begin flying towards her, eventually grabbing her and lifting her into the air and immediately dropping her.  The pressure of the fall causing the woman to die as her young child looks on in a state of confusion.  The blue beings are known as Traags and tower over the small humanoid creature that they refer to as Oms, and aside from existing in a tribe-like state, the Oms are primarily seen as playthings for the Traag children, who are not yet capable of existing in a state of constant meditation like the adults.  One young Traag named Tiva decides to save the small child of the recently deceased woman Om, naming him Terr and teaching him the ways and world of the Traags.  Terr, realizing the wealth of knowledge in front of him, laps up everything that Tiva has to teach, in the process becoming a sentient creature aware of the relationship he possesses as a creature in relation to the Traags.  This leads to Terr fleeing in fear of his ultimate demise, bringing along with him a device used by the Traags in the hope that he can share the knowledge with other Om tribes living on the outskirts of the Traag fortress.  Now possessing the information most dear to the Traags the Oms mount a revolt, led by Terr that results in the first death of a Traag at the hands of Oms.  The Traags baffled by such a possible occurrence, up their "extermination" of the Oms in a stroke of genocide by poison gas.  Terr and a handful of other Oms escape the ordeal.  Eventually, with his expansive knowledge of Traag culture, Terr is able to take control of one of their devices, a laser that interferes in the Traags copulation thus breaking their hereditary line.  The Traags are forced then to acknowledge the presence of the Oms as something far more than playthings, but as a group equal to them in power and resilience, despite their relatively diminutive stature.  The film ends with a suggestion that the feuding between both groups has ended and that a peaceful coexistence has emerged between the Traags and Oms, one that is assumedly to last forever.

Fantastic Planet is one of those films whose true meaning, like its animation style is something familiar and identifiable, yet terribly intangible and clearly a simulacra of what a viewer would assume to be reality.  Leave it to a French animator to create such a film.  However, in its seemingly impossible nature, one can grasp multiple possibilities, ranging from realized statements on colonization and French guilt, to far reach introspective considerations on metaphysical identity as it relates to an insurmountable and endless universe.  I realize that to attack this film from any direction is to ultimately rely on reading specific moments or interactions and to invariably ignore others, but it is truly rare for a piece of film theory or criticism to appropriate every single frame and interaction into the larger theory.  As such, I want to touch upon the highly existential nature of this work, one that posits a world so left up to contingency, chance and an impossible control over things as to suggest that they are part of a game in which the Oms, an appropriate allusion to Hommes, the French term for humans.  I have talked about game theory in the past on the blog as it relates to a work like The Cooler, wherein the casino setting doubles as a metaphor for a person being subject to contingency and chance, even in the most seemingly assured of situations.  In Fantastic Planet this notion that a human is subjected to some game played by an unseen force, is placed in the metaphorical hands of the Traags who literally use Oms as their playthings.  Of course, the question then becomes what meaning arises from Terr's discovery of the cogs at work.  This is either a moment where he submits to the existential understanding that all is meaningless, aside from what he deems his own, in his case a quest for knowledge.  Another possibility is that the film is intended to depict a push toward enlightenment after being stuck in an existential malaise, in this the dreary and haunting presence of the Traags double as that constant woe resulting from meaninglessness.  Indeed, it is probably appropriate to read the work as a work about achieving enlightenment, at least in this case it makes the quite out of nowhere ending highly positive.

Key Scene:  People who have read many of my blog posts know I am a sucker for openings that immediately establish the mood and precedent for a film.  Fantastic Planet very much has such an opening and I promise you it will yank you into its world quickly.

Relatively cheap DVD's are available for this film, but since I intend to go region free with my bluray player in the upcoming months, I intend to get the French bluray that is available.  Should you be in that market, I would suggest doing the same.

I Keep My Undies In The Ice Box!: The Seven Year Itch (1955)

First off, I want to thank Movies, Silently for the opportunity to be involved in The Funny Lady blog-a-thon, and be given the excellent task of tackling Marilyn Monroe no less!  I have decided to revisit The Seven Year Itch, a film I have no seen in years, firstly, because I find it to be one of the funniest (if not the funniest) films ever made.  Second, however, I also believe it speaks volumes to the brilliant performer that Marilyn Monroe was, while also allowing her to play with notions of her own place as a sexual icon, as well as the larger idea of male fantasy and expectations of the "ideal conquest."  I picked this movie specifically because it is so funny, and while much of that can be credited to the involvement of Billy Wilder and the droopy-eyed performance of Tom Ewell, it, ultimately, comes down to the masterful delivery of Monroe as a fantastical version of some robotic version of an ideal male woman, who is a risqué model with demure sensibilities and a young, overly idealistic woman who just also happens to have a mature understanding of the complexities of marriage.  While it is never expressly stated, one can assume that the film is a large scale fantasy on the part of the main character and that his fantasy is merely a projection, in which case, the performance Monroe puts on takes another layer of absurdity, nonetheless, being portrayed with a stone-eyed certainty as she delivers lines about retrieving snack foods and undergarments from iceboxes.  Simply put, what Monroe does in The Seven Year Itch is reject everything that the cult of celebrity had created for her, through blowing it all out of proportion, because while the cultural image of Monroe is easily the famous publicity still of her in a white dress catching a draft from a passing subway car, that was merely an instant in this film, it is not reflective of her in the slightest.  One must remember that Monroe also took on serious roles in films like All About Eve, Clash By Night and another Technicolor delight River of No Return.  As such, she is performing a comedic deconstruction of herself within the framework of The Seven Year Itch, one that is half-fantasy/ half-absurdity and all perfection.  I would argue that actors, regardless of gender, struggle to commit to a character with such a degree of certainty as Monroe displays in this racy film that stands as one of the big breaks from the restrictions of The Hayes Code.

The Seven Year itch focuses on the experiences of the shy and sheepish Richard Sherman (Tom Ewell) a well-to-do publishing agent who, like many men living in Manhattan in the fifties, finds himself seeing his wife Helen (Evelyn Keyes) and son Ricky (Butch Bernard) off as they leave town, while he stays in town and continues accruing wealth for the family.  Richard, a schmuck of sorts adheres to every detail his wife lays out for him, including an avoidance of smoking and drinking and a strict diet, all doctor's orders of course.  Richard, who constantly speaks about his love for his wife, nonetheless, fantasizes about all his possible moments of infidelity, while also creating a projection of Helen that dismisses his claims.  Richard finds himself even incapable of thinking about cheating, without the condemnation of his wife.  Seemingly fine simply existing in a liminal space between freedom from his family and a constant reminder of their presence, through slips on roller skates and hidden keys to his cigarette chest, things change for Richard drastically when he is met with a new occupant in his complex, a curvaceous young blonde woman who becomes simply known as The Girl (Marilyn Monroe).  The innocent girl initially asks Richard for help getting into the house which he gladly agrees to do, although it is clear that he is fraught with anxiety over how to help this woman whose stunning beauty is alarming, a matter that is made all the worse when she accidentally knocks a tomato plant onto his balcony later that evening, only missing Richard by seconds.  This accident leads to Richard inviting The Girl down for a drink, to which his fantasies begin running wild from causing the girl to swoon over performances of Rachmaninoff to perfect cocktail recopies.  Yet even as Richard unfolds elaborate plans his reality impedes constantly, through things like the landlord attempting to change the carpeting and a check-up call from Helen.  Despite these constant distractions timing still proves in his favor as The Girl enters and the two hit it off, despite his nervousness, awkwardness and misdirection, leading to a failed performing of not the Russian composer, but instead the simple Chopsticks.  The next day, Richard finds himself despairing over his foolish advances, only to be furthered condemned by a psychoanalytically inclined author that says his desires are a result of pent up frustrations and the like.  Invariably, Richard and The Girl continue seeing one another, although their engagements, aside from innocent kisses are left undisplayed, but an encounter with one of Helen's dear friends leads Richard to realizing where his true concerns should lie and he flees form Manhattan, ultimately, leaving both his fantasies and realities behind him to join his family on vacation.

If one is to assume that much of this film exists in the space of Richard's fantasies, the dream sequences within the already established dream would make the film a sort of meta-fantasy, wherein, Richard has one projection of his own life that is not suited to his liking and simply adds another layer to make it more fantastical or indicative of his personal desires.  This is scene when he is already troubled by the idea that he does not represent the ideal masculine of somebody like Tom MacKenzie (Sonny Tufts) who he suspects his wife to be having an affair with, therefore, he creates another layer to his fantasy that involves The Girl saying that she is only interested in men who, like Richard, are shy and constantly perspiring.  If there is a certain degree of layering to his idealization and desire on Richard's part I would contest that there is also the same amount of twisting and multiplicity within Monroe's performance.  As noted earlier she is playing a heavily caricatured version of the sultry, yet shallow, young model that would encompass male desire, tragically, something she would become known and stereotyped for both on and off the screen.  Yet, Monroe bring a certain vapidness to the role, not because she is a bad actress, that is far from the case (refer to the films mentioned earlier), but because she knows that such a "desired" version of femininity requires that the woman strip away all notions of emotion or a soul and become, like the picture of her in which Richard constantly sneaks a glance, a object of desire without thought or reason.  Incidentally, it is no coincidence that the still of the dress being blown by the subway draft is the most famous scene of the film, despite being only a publicity still, it reflects this same non-animated form of objectification.  The beauty of Monroe while important to the film, particularly when Wilder's script breaks the fourth wall and has Richard suggest that the woman hiding in his house is none other than the real life version of Marilyn Monroe, is secondary to what she is stating about the nature of a desired body both in fantasy and reality.  To Wilder and to Monroe, it is one thing for her character's performance to be one of Marilyn Monroe, but it is secondly so because she is playing into a heavily muted version of herself, one that must only be sexualized because it is realistic to be anything else.  To Monroe this is to be laughed at, and while it may not have been realized at the time, it is certainly the case now, and easily stands as Monroe's funniest performance, and were it not for the unfortunate tragedies that would follow in years to come, I would imagine that this performance would stand up to be one of the single greatest strokes of comedy genius to ever grace the screen.

Key Scene:  All that I have mentioned culminates perfectly in the Rachmaninoff scene, although there are other wonderful moments throughout the film that combine together to make Richard's fantasy world one of the most foolishly funny visions in all of cinema.

This film, along with a ton of other Monroe classics is available in a bluray box set.  The transfer is stunning and the extras are wonderful, particularly the Hayes Code meter that you can have play throughout the film, showing the degrees of "obscenity" that the picture would have received.

Being Normal Is Vastly Overrated: Halloweentown (1998)

I promised to give a vast study of horror films in my themed month for October and certainly intend to deliver on that promise, which helps to explain the next film on my tour, the 1998 Disney television movie Halloweentown, a pick by my girlfriend for the list and probably the biggest genre stretch on my list.  However, to say that it is a stretch is not an attempt to undermine the work in the slightest, there are moments in this film that I recall from my younger days as being genuinely scary and ones that could still be frightful to the right group of youngsters.  It was fun to revisit this film, as I only had fleeting memories of the plot and had no idea the film included the consummate Debbie Reynolds.  Of course the plot is a bit fractured, but one can expect such occurrences when, firstly the film is made for television and secondly it is directed towards a youth audience.  Many of the characters exist a plot devices and manage to have a very cursory place in the brief movie, only clocking in at a bit over eighty minutes.  The plot it does possess though is well-executed and contains some moments of comedic brilliance as well as a few genuine scares, all culminating in a great commentary on embracing ones uniqueness and accepting even against stalwart reasoning that some things are, in fact, magic.  Finally, the make-up and costuming in this film are stellar, particularly the various beasts and creatures shown throughout the film and one scene of exceptionally good stop motion animation.  It is probably going to be the only family friendly movie blogged about this month, and one of the few I have blogged about to date, but it is certainly a movie for persons of many age groups as its humor ranges from simple slapstick, to some clearly adult oriented humor.

The story in Halloweentown begins on Halloween, as should be little surprise as three kids look longingly at the festivities from inside their house.  The children include a young girl named Sophie (Emily Roeske), an incorrigible nerd named Dylan (Joey Zimmerman) and the oldest daughter and eccentric Marnie (Kimberly J. Brown).  Despite their constant pleas to partake in trick or treating, their mother Gwen, played by Judith Hoag (who is likely better known as April O'Neil in the live action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film), denies their request.  She feels adamantly that they will be somehow ruined by the events of such a day.  Viewers are uncertain as to her concerns, until it is realized with the entrance of their grandmother Aggie (Debbie Reynolds), that they are related to an ancient family of witches.  Despite Aggie's less than subtle hints at their unique nature, Gwen denies them the right to explore this alternative life, instead wishing for them to have a "normal" life, despite being without a father figure.  Upon overhearing her mother and grandmother argue about her right to be a witch, Marnie follows her grandmother to Halloweentown via a flying bus to another world, only to be joined by Dylan and Sophie who share an equal curiosity.  Upon landing the group attempts to find their grandmother, but not before running into Calabar (Robin Thomas) Halloweentown's mayor.  He aids them in transportation to their grandmother's house via a taxi ride from a wise cracking skeleton named Benny, voiced by Rino Romano.  It is at this point that the children discover that trouble is afoot in Halloweentown and their grandmother is attempting to stop its occurrence.  Followed hot on the tail by an irate Gwen, the children and grandmother end up in a theater where it is revealed that Calabar is behind the evil in the town, freezing all who disobey him.  In the process of confronting Calabar, Gwen and Aggie are frozen by a spell and the children are left to complete Aggie's spell, which requires obtaining ingredients such as the hair of a werewolf and the sweat of a ghost.  They succeed in doing so and finally get the means to confront Calabar, and with a little help from a town local the group beats him and everything is returned to normal, with a suggestion that the three children, despite their mother's original denial, will indeed be trained in the dark arts.

The movies commentary is rather simple, as it should be considering that it is essentially directed at children.  However, the lesson taught is a very important one, especially for young adults and children. Instead of simply being a horror/comedy family film, Halloweentown posits something much greater in its suggestion that one should embrace uniqueness even if certain groups in society claim it to be, in this case, demonic.  Gwen represents a troubled single mother who holds falsely onto an idea that somehow by denying her heritage and identity that her children will exist in a better world, when it is clear that her disconnect and denial are only bringing more questions up within her children and arguably raising them to be social outcasts, as an early reaction with some of Marnie's friends suggests.  Aggie, in a maternal, and somewhat ancestral sense, claims this heritage and struggles desperately to keep her grandchildren practicing long after her passing.  The film also embraces a feminist ideology in that many of the spells require a group of women to unite together to make it more powerful, made all the more pertinent in that these women are of different ages.  The brief film also tackles notions of beauty and friendship, as occurs between Marnie and Luke (Phillip Van Dyke) a "dashing" young boy in Halloweentown who takes a liking to Marine, only to betray her, in what viewers come to discover was a Devil's bargain with Calaber to make him look better.  Essentially, Halloweentown contains a series of life lessons for young viewers and even a few reminders to parents on embracing their familial identity and heritage, even if it is not the mainstream idea of normal.  If anything the film denies denial.

Key Scene:  The obtaining of ingredients montage is quite fun and probably the funniest moment in the film.

I want to tell everybody to go out and buy this film, but I know it is for only a select few, not to mention that it is unusually expensive for what it is and, furthermore, it seems to sell out quickly after being stocked, at least that is what happened repeatedly at the Target near my house.

You Have No Power Over Me: Labyrinth (1986)

I have tragically been unable to procure any blogs for what appears to be twenty plus days, although considering that I have been knee deep in moving for the past week I figure it is slightly excusable.  However, knowing that this rather lengthy break leaves a gap in my movie reviews I completely understand that in order to return to with a new blog that it needs to be something spectacular and in my opinion the 80's cult classic Labyrinth provides for the perfect return. A spectacle in the very sense of the term, this Jim Henson directed film is otherworldly without being so fantastical as to dismiss accessibility to those less inclined towards the fantasy genre. The combination of some masterful puppeteer work and what is simultaneously David Bowie's best and worst offering to music, Labyrinth manages to be very fun and at times bizarre.  I am fully aware of its lack of success upon initial release and could expound on the possibilities for days, however, that is unnecessary and I would be more inclined to simply celebrate its cult status and demand its immediate viewing to all those who have not seen its glorious absurdity.  A film like Labyrinth reminds me that not every big budget film to come out of the 80's is indeed terrible; in fact, many were quite enjoyable and stellar offering to the world of movies.

Labyrinth focuses on the experiences of one young girl named Sarah (Jennifer Connelly) who is at wits end with her indifferent father and stubborn stepmother that seems more concerned with making it to their various outings than spending time with her.  This problem is only exacerbated by their continual dumping of their youngest child Toby (Toby Froud) onto Sarah.  Constantly seeking solace in a fantasy world known as Labyrinth, Sarah utters words from the novel that are supposed to cause her younger brother to be kidnapped by goblins.  At first loving the silence, Sarah immediately regrets her decision and decides to check on her brother, who has disappeared.  In a panic, Sarah attempts to redact her decision, only to encounter Jareth (David Bowie), the king of the goblins.  He explains that Sarah will only see her brother again if she is able to successfully find the center of his labyrinth within thirteen hours.  Accepting her fate, Sarah quickly takes to the task of finding her brother within the madness of the labyrinth, along the way she encounters various creatures of fantastical proportions from a grouchy dwarf named Hoggle, to various logic puzzles and riddles, all intended to test her wits and maturity.  Fed up with her successes, Jareth intervenes on many occasions to throw obstacles in Sarah's way.  Ultimately, however, with the help of a new set of friends and a newly found inner power, Sarah defeats Jareth by accepting that she has no control over her and that she truly loves her brother and would do anything for his safety.  Sarah returns home safely and finds Toby fast asleep, she thinks fondly of her encounters with the various creatures of the Labyrinth only to discover that within her imagination that she can revisit each and everyone of them on countless occasions.

While the film is littered with surprisingly excellent special effects and a very large amount of song and dance numbers, particularly the somewhat awkward "Dance Magic" bit, it is possible to glean a series commentary out of the film.  Sarah represents a young woman who is attempting to traverse through the world with a headstrong sense of independence, one that is ridiculed by her step mom who thinks she should be more concerned with her dating life.  The labyrinth, and to some extent Jareth, represent a imaginative world of oppression, quite similar to the real world she exists within.  It is only when she displaces her anger on someone weaker than her that she realizes her mistakes and for this, she must seek redemption.  Along the way, Sarah evolves from a stubborn girl who simply runs in one direction until she is tired to a born leader who helps to defend a town from a goblin onslaught.  More importantly, however, Sarah learns both the value of companionship and loyalty through Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus, all theoretical extensions of her personality as well as independence from a patriarchal figure head, as is evident in Jareth (despite his rather androgynous appearance).  The puzzles within the film evolve from very literal ones, as is the case with her encounter with the traditional Knight and Knave dilemma to breaking from her own restraints of dreams involving bourgeois extravagances that adhere to heteronormative notions of male and female relationships.  Each encounter within the narrative could easily be read as Sarah attempting to encounter a ridiculous social rule head on.  Of course, it could all just be an anti-drug film, as is evident in the peach scene.

Key Scene: A certain scene invoking the work of M.C. Esher that I have dubbed Jareth's Lament.

This is a great piece of 80's film that has recently been upgraded to bluray.  While I fully intend to obtain a copy of the film, it is perfectly acceptable to simply rent it instead.

Have You Got All The Troll Footage You Need?: TrollHunter (2010)

This was an impulse viewing if ever such a thing existed.  I was expecting to see an over-the-top special effects heavy movie in the vein of Cloverfield that was visually intriguing, but lacked very little beyond that.  Fortunately, for me, TrollHunter was so much more.  A very self-aware film, TrollHunter takes as much time perfecting the monster movie genre as it does mocking it, incorporating the found footage elements to make a heavy political statement while also dodging heavy reliance on technical wizardry to captivate audiences.  It is a fun movie that is thrilling not for its suspense, but because its genuine captivating qualities which range from humorous dialogue to enthralling imagery of Norwegian wilderness.  I am surprised that it took me so long to hear about this film and feel completely obliged to share it with as many people as possible.

As a found footage film, TrollHunter posits itself as a factual account claiming to be uncovered in a recent release of government documents.  It centers on a group of students who are intrigued by a recent rash of bear deaths in the area, believing it to be a direct result of unethical hunting practices.  However, they quickly discover that what they though to be the actions of a group are instead centered around the work of one mysterious and continually elusive man named Hans (Otto Jespersen).  When the crew finally catches up with Hans, they persistently demand he answer for his ways, assuming him to be the bear murderer.  Hans dismisses them and warns them to avoid his lifestyle because it will prove deadly if they do not.  The group refuses to yield to the warnings and follows Hans into the woods only to lose him instantly.  Taken back by disturbing sounds the group stalls only to discover Hans fleeing out of the woods while yelling out the word “troll.”  It is in this instance that the group discovers that the bear deaths are reflective of something much larger, literally.  Hans explains to the group that he is tasked with maintaining the troll population in Norway and that it is a process enacted by the government.  Realizing that they have stumbled upon cinematic gold, the crew follows Hans on his daily activities realizing that his job as troll hunter is as bizarre as it is lonely, which slowly leads to a bonding amongst the group.  As they continue their quest, they realize that the government’s insistence on hiding trolls is indicative of larger issues and that Hans is a pawn for the government who sees the trolls as a hindrance and wants nothing more than to destroy them all.  It is in this realization that Hans uses the documentary as a call for help to the dying trolls, hoping that all that view the material will realize the trolls indifference towards humanity and that a possibility of a harmonious existence.

  

In typical Scandinavian fashion, the film is incredibly liberal and blatantly uses the trolls as a commentary on environmental decay.  The film’s writer and director André Øvredal seems fit to blame the entirety of this downfall on conservative ideology, particularly that which is concerned with capitalist advances.  It is clear throughout the film that the government’s only reason for hiding the trolls is that as large, lumbering beasts they interfere with the extension of power lines and other forms of industrial evolution, which inevitably rely on destruction of the natural world.  To the government officials in the film murdering the trolls is a simple and cost-efficient answer to industrialization, particularly given that Hans is the only troll hunter in existence.  Øvredal also has no qualms about attaching the problem to Christianity as well, using Scandanavian folklore as inspiration.  Hans notes that trolls lust for the blood of Christians, which inevitably associates their negative relationship to the natural world.  The critique is logical in a liberal sense, because in many discourses Christianity is a root for modern oppression.  The films narrative is even careful to note its fondness of Michael Moore, who the crew cites as a role model.  Finally, the film is obviously a call to maintain the natural world through its cinematography, which often consists of long panning shots of the Norwegian landscape, which are simultaneously breathtaking, and a sobering reminder of the continually vanishing natural world and the hands of technological advances.  In the closing scenes, the film brilliantly edits a interview with the Norwegian Prime Minister to make it appear as though he acknowledges the existence of trolls, or in a metaphorical sense a nature in need of preservation.

As I noted this is a Norwegian version of Cloverfield, but is considerably better, and getting a copy on Blu-Ray should be understood.

Going to the Fourth World: Heavenly Creatures (1994)

Opening scenes often make movies and Heavenly Creatures has one of the most intense ones I have seen to date.  A young Kate Winslett and Melanie Lynskey are shown running through a forest with blood stained faces screaming at the top of their lungs.  Given this introduction, it appears as though Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures shares little in common with its cherubic title.  The film is intense, emotional and full of fantastical imagery and for a brief moment, viewers are invited into the 1950's world of a ever-changing New Zealand.  It is a cinematic film in every sense of the world forcing those watching to exercise multiple senses simultaneously. 


The film follows Pauline Parker (Melanie Lynskey), as she becomes increasingly infatuated with a fellow schoolmate Juliet Hume (Kate Winslett).  Based on the real life Parker's own diaries it is an intimate look into how a homosexual relationship formed amidst oppressive traditionalism and rigid morality guidelines.  The two girls create a world of their own complete with full of clay sculptures, purple skies, and orange fauna.  The world they create serves as a place for them to harvest their growing love as it slowly evolves from a friendship to something far more physical.  Ultimately, however, their love conflicts with the ideals of those around them and in order to prevent its continuation both girls' parents separate them to deter their "sickness."  Uncertain of their future the girls take part in a brutal act of rebellion intending to run away and spend their lives together.  As the closing statements explain this never became the case.

The film is great for two reasons.   The first is that, in my opinion, it shows how truly fragile not only young love is, but homosexual love as well.  Both girls display an instant affection for one another, yet cannot express it under the surveillance of their schools formality.  As a result, much of their time spent together is in a world of fantasy, one in which they set their relationship within hetero-normative standards.  It reflects practices of that period which involved one person passing as the opposite sex in order to make their relationship seem heterosexual, a practice that unfortunately still occurs today.  While the girls' relationship is centered in fantasy, it reflects these behaviors regardless.  The second great thing about this film is its dedication to Parker's diary entries.  The film seems to flow between events sporadically, often portraying moments in an order that leads the viewer to question the chronological order of narrative.  Furthermore, Parker's real-world experiences often infiltrate into her fantasy realm, as shown beautifully in the opera/dance scene in the Fourth World village.  This only heightens the notion that it is a film about inner experiences, as opposed to outward observation.

Besides being an excellent film, Heavenly Creatures provides an early glimpse into the cinematic style of Peter Jackson.  His use of make-up and prosthetic work within this film display faint glimmerings of what he would do with the Lord of the Rings series and, ideally, show what we can expect from him in the future.  It is a great watch and a film well worth owning.