I Don't Think Nikola Tesla Is A Good Role Model For Your Academic Career: Computer Chess (2013)

It is into a new year and I have just completed one of my many marathons that comprised the last year.  Some where a means to catch up with works in classic genres, while others were purely to cover cult cinema that I had sat aside.  Hell even one month was devoted entirely to watching as many films as possible, which in turn afforded me a chance to do some heavy duty research while also getting published in the process!  2013 was a great year for me and by extension a great year for movies.  The realization of this is occurring as I am now flailing about to catch up with a variety of release from last year that were either pushed aside for more explorations of classic cinema or became unwatchable when I was not afforded the chance to step away from school to catch a screening.  Fortunately, it is still quite sometime before Oscar and Awards season and I have a more focused chance to knock out a few of these films, although I was not planning on this endeavor leading to serious reworking of my top film list of the past year.  While Springbreakers is holding on strong at first, late entries by Nebraska nearly toppled it and the recent viewing of Computer Chess almost completely took the spot.  A film that is shot in the vein of mid-eighties nerd technology (i.e. Videtape) about the most seemingly underwhelming of subject matter, the layers of issues at play in Computer Chess are nothing short of enigmatic.  Tacking in both serious and comedic manners the questions of humanities place in a growing world of technology and artificial intelligence, Computer Chess plays out like a David Lynch inspired response to Primer one that is at once highly disconcerting and wildly entertaining.  I knew about fifteen minutes into the film that it would prove to be far less than normal indie experimental fare, but the turns it takes throughout particularly in the last fifteen or so minutes of the film are absolutely brilliant and worthwhile,  I only hope that the evocations to deeper inquiries that arise in this film can come to reflect a world of indie filmmaking that is in line with what has already been established her with Computer Chess and earlier in the work of Shane Carruth, whose own offering in 2013 was perhaps the most notably transcendental work of the year.  In which case Computer Chess becomes the most deconstructionist both in medium and message.

Computer Chess as its name eponymously suggests is about the playing of chess by a computer, often focusing on the challenges of a computer playing against a human.  Here, however, the narrative centers on an annual conference that includes the brightest minds in artificial intelligence and computing coming together to create their various machinery as a means to challenge other computer based chess programs.  The winner of the competition is awarded a sum of $75,000 dollars and is afforded the chance for their machine to play against the likes of Pat Henderson (Gerald Peary) a world renowned chess-master and the organizer of the event.  While the teams are represented by both school-based programs such as those at MIT, as well as by non-academic persons with interest in the subject, notably the socially awkward Michael Papageorge (Myles Paige), it is almost entirely focused on the occurrence of one teams computer as it appears to fall apart, working against itself in a way that is clearly not within the original intent of the program.  The team's leader Martin Beuscher (Wiley Wiggins) becomes a frantic mess, asking for passes and a chance to correct software malefactions, while his less talkative colleague Peter Bishton (Patrick Riester) works through the night testing issues with the hardware as well, even seeking out help late at night via test matches with other competitors in the competition.  When Peter and Martin's advisor emerges, things appear to be headed to a positive point, only to discover that much more has occurred with their chess program than could have initially been imagined, possibly extending to use by government figures for military tactics.  While almost entirely unaware of this reality, Peter wanders about the hotel looking for answers, eventually finding conflict when he stumbles into the space of a New Age self-help group that also appears to have a penchant for orgiastic behavior.   While the computer program continues to have problems, it is revealed in the closing portions of the film that it might well be an issue of artificial intelligence becoming too familiar with human replication and thus recreating it without permission a change that the film suggests might extend beyond a simple program to move pawns across a board.

This film is not your labyrinth film in a traditional sense, or perhaps it is, in that much like the other popular labyrinth film The Shining, the film does situate itself within a hotel, one whose rules and state of existence are quite illogical in the same was as The Overlook Hotel in Kubrick's film.  Here though the heady exploration of identity and replication both organically and mechanically takes on intense proportions, made all the more so by executing the narrative on a noticeably antiquated form of moving image capturing.  The medium is of particular note because it is the larger diegetic layer of display that helps manifest the labyrinth of Computer Chess into existence.  The fact that the narrative both philosophically and humorously navigates what it would mean for an artificial intelligence entity to become sentient enough to realize the difference between playing against another computer and a human is absolutely thought provoking, but tends to ask wherein lies the distinction, particularly in regards to a game like chess that is a series of strategic moves, the greats members of the game proving to play constantly, slowly becoming more sentient of the various possibilities which emerge in a game of heavy strategy.  It seems to be the lack of rhythm and repetition that causes a computer to distinguish itself from a more well-reasoned computer.  It comprehends hesitancy and lack of formality as human, which is juxtaposed quite brilliantly with the space being navigated by a group of people who break down things in a highly logical and factual manner.  Indeed, aside from the curiously intercut sequence of a group of the computer chess programers smoking pot while dancing around the subject of government involvement in artificial intelligence, the film wants viewers to be aware of the generally objective nature of the people in the tournament, making the emergence of paranormal and fantastical elements that much more bizarre, not because they happen, but because the characters seem so set on them happening within a logical framework, two in particular completely destroying any sense of human/technology divide in the process.  This film absolutely winds into dark corners of theoretically heavy discussions and comes out the other end all the more enigmatic, but no less enticing.

Key Scene:  Let's just say it involves an ultrasound.

This is on Netflix, you should set time aside accordingly.

Now Don't Bullshit A Bullshitter: All That Jazz (1979)

Bob Fosse is nothing short of a visionary, this is not intended to be specific to his skills a choreographer or to limit the consideration to only his work as a filmmaker.  His musicals in all their wildly revisionist nature prove to be an entirely different fare from the conventional work, particularly as it contrasts the spectacular, but often nausea-inducing showy works of the forties and fifties.  Using whispers, snaps and pulling heavily from the sounds of the natural world, Fosse creates a type of musical that works from the ground up making the diegetic and non-diegetic necessitate one another for a fully functioning film.  This is not, however, to say that his works are somehow entirely situated within reality.  As was certainly shown in my earlier review of Cabaret, but almost exclusively a product of All That Jazz, the otherworldly, or the afterlife, is always at play within the experiences of an individual, particularly one who is fracturing and falling apart at the seams.  Furthermore, where another director would play up the loving and earnest look at a person falling into their final days and hours, Fosse chooses to go with the real, looking at the plight of a man dying and his success and failures at reconciliation.  While I have encountered other attempts at the independent filmmaking approach to the musical All That Jazz is, undoubtedly, the crowning achievement, managing to use the metacinematic in a simple, but appropriate manner and never allowing for the lavish sets necessary for certain numbers to overpower the narrative.  While it is a far cry from the composition and symmetry of the illustrious Busby Berkeley musical numbers, it is certainly no less startling or awe-inspiring.  All That Jazz works not in spite of the traditional musical film, but because of its very limitless nature in the filmic language.  Indeed, Fosse reminds viewers that perhaps next to the expansive possibilities of animated films that the non-linear and extra-diegetic structure of the musical allow for exploration of the human existence well beyond the corporeal, the final result of such an exploration is absolutely riveting in this film.

All That Jazz focuses on the experiences of Joe Gideon (Roy Scheider) a theatre director, choreographer and filmmaker.  While Joe has managed to establish himself as a legitimate figure in both communities, the stress of such high demands, doubled with his life of philandering have led him to become reliant on a wicked blend of smoking and anxiety reduction pills to keep awake and productive.  On the coattails o f a newly anticipated theatrical show with a tinge for the erotic, Joe proves incapable of delivering to his expectations and when negative feedback emerges both in regards to his play and his newly edited film, he collapses at work.  When in the hospital it is revealed that he has been suffering seriously from angina pectoris, a particularly troublesome heart dysfunction that is a result of his high stress job.  The doctors at the hospital insist that if Joe hopes to survive he must severely limit the amount of stress inducing endeavors he engages in, specifically anything that involves a lot of movement.  Joe is completely flippant to such requests and continues to choreograph from his bedroom, while also taking in the various criticisms of his new film.  Furthermore, the seemingly unfazed Joe keeps up with his philandering ways, both sleeping with his dancers and attempting to make advances on his day nurse.  When it becomes more clear, however, that Joe is going to die from his angina, he begins to move through the various stages of approaching death, which is narratively overlaid by his recent comedic film's narrative, as the actor in the film states the various occurrences, such as bargaining and acceptance as Joe engages in each issue.  These challenges include Joe coming to assure his love for his young daughter and aspiring dancer Michelle (Erzsébet Földi), as well as a sort of truce with his ex-wife Audrey (Leland Palmer).  In the closing moments of the film, Joe is having trouble navigating between the reality of his hospital bed and his own execution of a musical about his death, the two seem to coalesce into a feverish nightmare, one that has him singing lead, while he caries about intravenous injections, images of his pumping heart serving as the backdrop for the scene.  Although it is a grand bit of spectacle, the film ends in a very matter-of-fact kind of way, asserting that in death finality comes to even the act of dreaming.

Temporal and spatial contrast are huge in the musical, as I have mentioned earlier, the escapist nature of the genre and the necessity of advancing time considerably result in musical numbers serving as transitory spaces between one event and another.  In All That Jazz, the various performances should also serve a similar factor, but it is almost as though in this situation the music and Joe's own relationship to the songs is stuck in some sort of liminal space.  These moments are liminal in that they reflect Joe as he is lost amidst two opposing forces, that which causes him to identify as one embodiment of the self or other.  This is done most innocently, although it might not be apparent, when Joe creates the Air Erotica musical number, wherein he must learn to navigate between his own creations as an artist and his own lustful and passionate desires, the backers for his show being confused by the graphic sexual nature of the various moments, completely overlooking the ways in which such a number might suggest a sexual politics that is far more complex than they could begin to imagine.  It is perhaps least innocent at a time when it would seem so, which occurs when Joe's daughter Michelle and his girlfriend Katie (Ann Reinking) jointly perform a song and dance number in his apartment.  At this point, Joe must decide whether he wants to fully commit to being a father figure in the traditional sense, or a paternal figure in a sexual sense, both girls seeking a degree of affection that is eerily and problematically similar.  These two sequences are somewhat similar in composition, it the final sequence, which features Joe as the lead in "Bye Bye Life" that absolutely traipses the lines of liminality, especially considering that it is performed, assumedly, in Joe's mind, wherein all that he witnesses and learns is wholly an internal struggle, completely detached from the corporeal space.  However, because it is about the death of Joe it has a inherent tie to corporeality, the stage thus becoming an embodied thing, something that Joe must navigate one last time free from the reigns of temporal and spatial control.  The liminal here is expansive, because in death all the spaces and boundaries appear to become definitively destroyed.

Key Scene: The "Bye Bye Life" number is the final portion of the film and it certainly builds to it in a perfected manner.

Get this film.  It is perfect.

Don't Do That Otis, She's Your Sister: Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer (1986)

I am constantly in search of a film whose opening shot thoroughly and evocatively establishes itself as something to be taken seriously, and am usually willing to extend this concession to an opening sequence.  Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer is one such film that uses an open shot that pans out disturbingly slowly affording viewers a realization of exactly what they are getting themselves into, followed by a series of back and forth scenes establishing the serial killer narrative which will unfold throughout the film.  In many instances this type of sequence would emerge somewhere in the middle of the front half of the movie to set the stakes for the remainder of the film, but that is not the case here, the stakes are known by the title and the viewer enters into the experience out of a sense of perverse curiosity.  Director John McNaughton's work in Henry is both clearly influenced by similarly abrasive auteurs like David Lynch, Michael Mann and David Cronenberg, while also creating examples of how to make aesthetically pleasing films about the most deranged and debasing of subjects and individuals.  The score for this film which could be easily lost in the violent milieu of on screen body horror and a non-linear, but, nonetheless, temporal diagetic track of the various murders, make for moments that should receive nothing more than abject disgust take on a level of serenity that challenges the viewer to first not find comfort in some sense of beauty, only to critically reprimand any sense of safety that might emerge by jumping back to the violence on screen.  I often find myself having to step back from critically engaging with a genre film, wondering if I am indeed reading too much into the narrative and am in some ways expecting more out of a director in the way of filmic theory.  With a work like Henry, however, I am certain that McNaughton is playing with cinematic conventions both in terms of the meta and the traditional genre as a means to push towards a new understanding on not only how a person reacts to cinematic violence, but, more importantly, how such preoccupations with simulated violence can allow for real societal degradation in the way of murder and rape to become ignored to the point of a troubling collective ignorance.

Henry begins with a series of shots of women, who have been brutally murdered while cutting back to images of the title character Henry (Michael Rooker) going about his rather monotonous daily routine, a clear suggestion arising that he is the one responsible for these murders, eventually verified when a woman he picks up hitchhiking is shown murdered in a living room.  Meanwhile the narrative introduces viewers to Otis (Tom Towles) a ex-convict whose work at a gas station serves as cover for his work dealing marijuana.  Otis' sister Becky (Tracy Arnold) arrives at Otis' house in need of a place to stay after the final falling out with her ex-boyfriend, an occurrence that is of little surprise to Otis,who knows of Becky's troubled past involving erotic dancing and bad relationships.  It is then revealed that Henry is Otis' roommate and the two are close drinking buddies.  Becky, intrigued by Herny's silent demeanor and overt sense of good manners, becomes instantaneously enamored with Henry, despite the frustrations and misgivings of Otis who has a rather unhealthy attachment to his sister.  After an intense altercation relating to this realization, Otis and Henry attempt to rekindle their friendship by a night out for some beers.  This night out quickly turns into buying prostitutes, which then involves Henry killing not only his prostitute, but Otis' as well when she begins to panic.  Initially hesitant to let Henry's act go unreported, Otis has a change of heart, realizing first that he would probably be arrested as well, but also because he seems to take a perverse pleasure in the act himself.  This leads to the two going on joint killing sprees, which are eventually recorded on a video camera they bum off of one of their victims.  All the while, Becky continually makes advances towards the apparently asexual Henry, leading to considerable jealousy on the part of Otis, who is suggested to be bisexual, if not outright gay, during a drug selling sequence.  As such, when he awakes at home to find Becky attempting to seduce Henry, he goes into a rage, eventually being shot by Henry, who then suggest that he and Becky leave to start a new life.  During their first night in a motel, Henry does not attempt to sleep with Becky, but merely suggests they go to sleep.  However, the film concludes with Henry driving a car down the road alone before stopping on the side of the road to unload a heavy blue folding suitcase, its contents become somewhat obvious given Henry's violent nature and his penchant for destroying women who are open in their sexual behavior.

Looking, as I have already established in quite a few films here on the blog and even at least twice this month concerning horror films, is something that is assumed to be male and carries with it a degree of objectification.  Other elements such as castration, death drives and fetishism fall into this looking and too become issues within Henry considering that the opening scene is an eye at the center of a screen looking at/confronting viewers, the deceased nature of the body responsible for this stare adds on a layer of death to the entire act.  In fact, every moment of this film possesses a considerable feel for voyeurism, as the cinematic world of Henry suggests one fully involved in the notion of cinema verite, despite being a fictionalized version of real events.  I would argue that through this low-key, realistic depiction of the life in a lower class space, McNaughton establishes a difference between the priviliged viewer (this would certainly have been the case for moviegoers at Indie cinema scapes in 1986) and the othered lower class person.  While Henry and Otis' behavior is clearly to be chastised the way the narrative flows and how the two are established as working class, affords those looking at the film to detach themselves from the still present violence by asserting that it is not something that would occur within their more well-to-do spaces.  It is a vicarious look of sorts, but in the sense that the one looking is hyper-privileged as opposed to longingly desiring an item.  Here, murder and the look upon its occurring is all associated with the primal, wherein, some portion of the psyche of Henry, and later Otis are open to being barbaric and ruthless, because they have not learned the counter to this behavior due to educational lack.  Indeed, one could even consider the gaze to be one of a death drive on the part of a privileged individual who has achieved a higher level on the hierarchy of needs, thus privileging them to look for experiences in the violent for purely philosophical or ethnographic curiosity.  Indeed, as I write this down I realize how similar this film and Steven Soderbergh's stunning Bubble become.  Both look with disconcerting pity on troubled lower class spaces, but where Soderbergh finds attempts at protection and belief in a higher calling, McNaughton discovers a sense of morally degradation.  The larger question, however, is not the ethical problems of the individuals in the respective films, but instead; how one who is given the ability to watch condemns or empathizes with the acts of those on display.

Key Scene:  The metacinematic moment involving Beck and Henry kissing, wherein Henry continually wipes his mouth, is a perfect syncopation of direction, writing and acting and is one of many great payoffs in a disturbing, yet incredibly engaging film.

Netflix Watch Instantly is a great venue to look into this film, although I intend on filling my shelf with a bluray copy in the near future.

My Father Taught Me To Kill The Sunflower: The American Astronaut (2001)

I am always surprised what I am able to dig up on Netflix in regards to independently produced cinema, it often ranges from the decidedly unwatchable The Pleasure of Being Robbed to the excellent and extremely low-budget Lo.  Of course, indie films are a hit or miss by their very existence alone and it is more so the case when the indie film attempts to exist within the space of a genre. The American Astronaut, a heavily experimental and noticeably independent film manages to move freely between the genres of the western (thus explaining its inclusion this month), the space travel film and even a bit of a musical as well, without ever seeming awkward or ill-advised.  Indeed, if I were to be shown this film without any explanation or context, I would be willing to posit that it was a newly discovered early work by either David Lynch or Guy Maddin, or, at the very least, somebody who is heavily and properly influenced by the aforementioned filmmakers.  What viewers are provided with The American Astronaut is nothing short of exceptional, between a maddening vision of a desolate and decidedly masculine future and the dreary black and white cinematography that allows for the darkness that clearly seems to be consuming the characters to stretch out and, at the very least, graze the eyes of those viewing this film.  It sticks to a vision and while it travels between locales at no point does the intensely dark, and at times comedic nature of the narrative world crack even in its most absurd and unusual moments.  What writer/director/actor Cory McAbee offers in his film is a prophetic, chiaroscuro vision of all that could go wrong with the future, should individuals not be willing to accept their absurd reservations in regards to socially liberal frameworks or prudish assumptions about the nature of sexuality and expressions of the self which are non-normative.  Each character exists in the space of The American Astronaut to be deconstructed, dismissed and ultimately reconsidered within a context of some "future" world which has institutionalized them to be disconnected, but as the film manages to cleverly suggest, perhaps this future is far less a distant even than a viewer might like to assume.

The American Astronaut centers on the travels of one Samuel Curtis (Cory McAbee) a sort of space bounty shipper, willing to move about the various planets transferring goods, both living and non, as a means to keep himself financially secure.  Viewers are introduced to Curtis as he is delivering a cat to a seedy space bar, where he meets up with his former dance partner The Blueberry Pirate (Joshua Taylor) who is purportedly in possession of a "real life girl" one that he hopes to trade a duplicitous overseer of a factory planet for a young man whose claim to intergalactic fame is that he had the great fortune of seeing a woman's breast.  It is explained that this young man will be then traded to the women of the planet venus to be used as their veritable sexual toy to procreate on the planet in return for their former single male figure who has died and needs to be returned to his family.  Given this seemingly absurd set of requests, Curtis is completely willing to engage with the actions, even seeming to embrace the task at hand, if only to get away from a planet that seems to take joy in capturing pictures of the traveller using the restroom.  Along the way Curtis continually runs into his nemesis the maniacal and death obsessed Professor Hess (Rocco Sisto) who appears quite focused on eventually killing Curtis because it is his "birthday."  Nonetheless, Curtis undertakes his missions with relative success, even helping to teach The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast (Greg Russell Cook) about living outside of his worker colony, engaging with him as though he is to be a son that will take on his job after his inevitable passing.  Along the way, the two person crew stops off in a floating barn and find themselves in contact with 1800's Nevada silver miners who have inexplicably existed in a floating space void and have given birth to a child known only as Body Suit (James Ransome) who they hope will be allowed to venture along the way with Curtis.  Curtis agrees in exchange for Body Suit's supply of cigarettes and chocolate.  Upon their arrival to Venus, Hess awaits Curtis now hoping instead to kill The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast, but realizing his tricks and having created a son out of him, Curtis tricks the women into believing that Body Suit is indeed their new male, abandoning him on the planet and fleeing from an infuriated Hess.

Sure that description makes it seem as though The American Astronaut is the farthest thing possible from a western, but this is simply not the case, especially considering that the travel takes on a sort of frontier element about it, not to mention many of the locations hearken back to the names and imagery of the old west, the only difference being that they exist in the floating world of outer space, and the clothing on the characters, while almost steampunk in its composition certainly embraces the genre as well.  I do not want to spend the whole time defending its westernness, but instead want to mention how insanely masculine this film is, not in a misogynist sense, but in a clearly deconstructionist one, McAbee is clearly playing with the nature of male interactions in a world that is assumedly void of female figures.  While it may play far too heavily into heteronormativity, The American Astronaut does want viewers to consider how stupid it is to believe that a idealized frontier that is entirely composed of patriarchal figures really proves to be on paper.  While Curtis is a decidedly rational individual, he also seems highly preoccupied with consummating a relationship with a woman, much as his pal The Blueberry Pirate and certainly the owner of the factory planet prove to be as well.  Hell, even a rejection of masculine desire in the context of The Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman's Breast is entrenched within his own embodiment of a masculine classical Greek figure, not a movement towards any embracing of the femininity.  Body Suit, of course, represents the most heightened of this lack of a female presence, indeed becoming frail and hermit like as a result, as opposed to be hyper-masculine as those who embrace maleness seem to assume would be the case with an all male commune or environment.  Of course, the all female colony on Venus is no better, in its misguided composition, being shown as feverish and foolish, again rejecting any notions of segregation or separation within a new space.  Sure The American Astronaut is a space western, but this filmic choice, helps viewers transcend a restrictive notion of gender politics, only to realizes that a separation is as foolish as an assumption that all is inherently equal all the time.

Key Scene:  The talk with the man in the barn is creepy and certainly one of the more hauntingly oeneiric portions of the film.

Netflix Watch Instantly...do it now, there is a high chance that it will not stay there forever.

Sometimes Things Need To Be Reset: The Comedy (2012)

When I warn people about films being abrasive and controversial to the point of having moments that are downright unwatchable, it is usually a result of some sort of graphic depiction of sexual violence, as is the case with almost all of Salo; Or the 120 Days of Sodom, or it is due to their sheer disregard for political correctness in the name of a larger statement on art and middle American values, as certainly occurs within Harmony Korine's Gummo.  Yet what one receives when viewing last years The Comedy, a film starring Tim Heidecker of Tim and Eric fame, is a film that is equally abrasive in its visual offerings, as well as main character, without the sort of artistic detachment or political statements of the aforementioned films, and before you continue reading this post, I want to make it absolutely clear that my noting of this films off-putting and disconcerting elements are not a sign of a critique in any way on my part, in fact, I absolutely become mesmerized with The Comedy.  Of course, the title is decidedly deceptive and will surely prove to be an unwanted encounter for many people on Netflix who see the title and expect an outright hilarious film.  Instead, under the brilliant directorial vision of Rick Alverson, viewers are provided with an indie work that throws caution to the wind in deconstructing exactly how disconnected a privileged white yuppie finds themselves, particularly in the face of real world oppression and suffering.  The title is more than apt for a film that is rather sparse on comedic moments, although some of Heidecker's improvisation is glorious, in that it takes comedy in much the same sense that Shakespeare did, allowing it to simply depict the absurdity of certain detached groups existences, complete with all their frivolous absurdity.  Of course, The Comedy clearly lands on the side of condemnation, but that is not to say that it is not aware of the possibility of realization, especially within regards to the main character, whose movement between a world of PBR-fueled awkward sexual encounters to a very real understanding of the facts of death, allow for a narrative of the most minor of advances towards maturity, yet in the way of this biting film, viewers are left asking the question of whether or not such an inconsequential change allows for a avenue of forgiveness for the truly degrading behavior enacted upon others by the privileged bodies that occupy the filmic space.

The Comedy focuses nearly entirely on the experiences of Swanson (Tim Heidecker) a well-to-do kid whose money seems to be very much tied to the financial success of an ailing father.  His wealth allows him to circle himself with other trust fund kids who spend their days guzzling a bizarre combination PBR and high-end bourbon, while spouting off terrible sex based jokes, or diatribe against the system that seems to support those with little.  Swanson in particular, seems set on making persons exist within an awkward state as a means to find some sort of validation for his malaise fueled existence, whether this involves invading the work of immigrant landscapers, or suggesting that Adolf Hitler might not have been a terrible guy had his ideas properly panned out.  It is clear that even through all this, Swanson possesses a crippling sense of loneliness, often exiling himself to trips on his boat, or going to an "urban" club by himself in search of sex, with persons of a particular racial background.  It never appears that Swanson has any direction to his actions, at one point taking a job as a dishwasher, simply because he happens to be in the area at the moment and applies for the position, much to the confusion of the employer.  It is not until he pays a cab driver an absurd amount of money simply to drive his cab that things become problematic, especially when he refuses to respect the drivers request of calm and normal driving when he makes cat calls at a girl he passes.  This less than close run in with trouble seems to do little to change Swanson, in fact, when he goes out with a waitress on his boat, he sits curiously indifferent when after taking a combination of drugs and alcohol she begins having convulsions.  The closing scenes of the film involve Swanson apparently going on a biking purge, only to follow this by more absurd drinking and viewing of old photographs and porn with his buddies.  Yet,  the closing moments of the film show Swanson playing at the beach, happily welcoming a young boy into a game of innocent splashing, suggesting a longing for childhood, although his simplistic movement through the world certainly implies that this desire is already a reality.

The beauty of the film The Comedy is that it manages to use the genre of pretentious hipster mumblecorp (in this case negative, although they can be good) film to completely reject the sort of disillusion relating to the struggles of rich white kids trying to justify their lives.  This can be horribly delivered and fall short as happens in The Pleasure of Being Robbed, or work when the conventions are undercut in the closing sequences of Entrance.  The Comedy is decidedly on the side of undercutting, but there is no degree of suggestion that this could be redemptive, the PBR-infused inquiries into the questions of life that do indeed exist in so many of these films come crashing down when Swanson uses such moments to push people away from one another, most notably himself, and viewing this occur within The Comedy made me realize that it often occurs in a variety of mumblecorp films through the "look how much smarter" I am moments, again Heidecker just blows it absolutely out of proportion.  Similarly these films often take for granted the characters abilities to move through their landscapes, even if completely desolate, at least this is very much the case for Swanson and his other pals, who use cabs unapologetically, and demand that the cab drivers provide them with their every request, or they will flat out refuse to tip them as a result.  It is an element of the "struggling yuppie" that they often ignore their ability to move freely away from their problems, or better yet mask them with drugs and booze, hell, Swanson's boat is the ultimate form of excessive escapism.  Another tragedy lies in the characters of such films working in dead end jobs while assumedly aspiring to do something else, with little gratitude for the value of employment, particularly in the abysmal economy wherein many of these films were produce.  Swanson, again, takes a job just for the hell of it, never really considering that the work could mean the livelihood to another individual.  Of course, the most intense and baffling scene occurs in a church and sort of proves the centrifuge for the downfall Swanson experiences in the second half of the film.

Key Scene:  The shuffle sequence in the church will have you in awe, I felt my mouth dropping in confusion and awe, both moved and disturbed simultaneously.

This is a recent addition to Netflix Watch Instant and should be viewed before it disappears for one reason or another.

Vagina Dentata! It's What's Inside Me: Teeth (2007)

It is perhaps fitting that I close out this month of women oriented film with the 2007 pseudo-horror thriller Teeth, first, because it plays nicely into the triple threat of metaphor that has been this and the last two films I reviewed.  Second, it is a great bookend with I Spit on Your Grave, which began this month of film, because they both deal with sexual oppression, particularly acts of sexual violence, and the subsequent revenge one woman undertakes to correct such issues.  Both very much consider what constitutes revenge, and do so with a decidedly gritty attitude and complete dismissal of any value in their respective culture.  In I Spit on Your Grave, the film seems to condemn a lack of education and rural seclusion as the means to women being degraded and defiled, setting up a certain vision of the world in which rape and violence occurs.  While Teeth is certainly a little more broad in its constructs, its semi-rural setting, doubled with two oppressively present nuclear chimneys, is no more specified.  Both films, do draw upon the very visceral and terrifying experiences of rape, yet, both also manage to make it central to one figure.  Where Teeth proves slightly more revolutionary than its precursor, is in its attempts to negate a certain sort of moral looseness with the type of woman who would be "subject" to rape.  The main character in Teeth is decidedly conservative and certainly does not seek out sexual encounters, furthermore, her acts of vengeance, in many instances are not entirely a result of her own fruition, instead; something her body naturally rejects, because unwarranted sexual aggression is always wrong...always.  It would be one thing if the film simply used the plot of a woman with vagina dentata as a means to make an exploitative film, however, Teeth rarely uses the main woman and her nudity as a visual element, as opposed to its rampant use in I Spit On Your Grave.  Instead, director Mitchell Litchtenstein clearly takes the narrative and discussion he posits seriously.  The film jams issues of conservative ideals of sexual censorship, a rape-positive culture and the problematic medicalization of the woman's body into a fast-paced film which is surprisingly dense with commentary.  One could read the closing moments of the film as nihilistic, but it, in my opinion, says much more about a challenge to continuations of sexual violence and instead embraces an outright destruction of their possible occurrences.

Teeth focuses on a girl named Dawn (Jess Weixler) who is coping with the trouble of growing up with her sick mother, stepdad and lecherous stepbrother Brad (John Hensley).  Dawn is a simple young woman who finds solace and understanding by serving as an abstinence coach at her local high school, promoting purity and the wearing of a promise ring, in order, to save herself for the beauty of her marriage night.  While Dawn clearly has an affect on the people she speaks with, it would appear as though her family and those in her town are far less inclined to embrace such ideals, whether it be Brad, who continually spends his days getting high and having sex with his live-in girlfriend, whereas when Dawn is at school she is ridiculed for being chaste and choosing to abstain from sex.  However, Dawn finds support in a fellow abstinence supporter named Tobey (Hale Appleman) whom she begins to grow fond feelings for, even at one point intensely sexual ones.  When the two take a trip to the local creek for a swim, it is revealed that Tobey is a born-again virgin, and when the two swim into a secluded cave, Tobey attempts to engage in intercourse with Dawn, despite her repeated yelling of the word no.  It is during the rape, that Dawn's vagina appears to bite off Tobey penis, much to both of their surprises, which leads to Tobey bleeding to death, while Dawn hermits herself in her house, feeling gross and unsure about her body.  Research leads her to discover that she possesses an anomaly known as vagina dentata, which essentially means that she has teeth inside of her vagina, a myth arising from various pre-modern civilizations.  During a trip to the gynecologist, Dawn assumes that everything is fine, until the doctor becomes a bit to abrasive and forceful with his "inspection" leading her vagina to bite off his fingers.  Dawn is now incredibly worried about her safety, and seeks solace with a young man from her school who had shown interest in her, eventually engaging in willing intercourse with him, resulting in no damage to the man, yet when they go for another round of sex and it is discovered that he had a bet going on his ability to land Dawn, her instincts kick in and her vagina dentata kicks in.    All the while it is revealed that Brad through indifference and focusing on sex, allows his stepmother to fall over sick to the point of needing hospitalization.  Knowing that Brad has expressed sexual interest in her, Dawn seduces him and uses her "mutation" to castrate him, a last hoorah against terrible male oppressors before she escapes town via her bicycle.  When it breaks down, she hitches a ride with an old man, leading to the closing moments where the man makes sexual gestures towards the man.  Instead of feeling threatened, Dawn simply looks out the window and smirks, knowing well that she possesses a means to ward of his advances.

The film is obviously a metaphor, it is rather clear in the title and poster/box art.  However, to simply focus on the vagina dentata element would be to tragically overlook the other layers of symbolism and authority that would make Lacan proud in their execution.  The idea of circles plays very much into the themes of the film, suggesting an image and notion of unbroken perfection.  When Dawn is initially a spokesperson for abstinence she makes continual note of her purity ring, not to mention the image of the circle that covers all the pamphlets, posters and paraphernalia involved in their campaign, but this metaphor certainly extends beyond this moment.  When Dawn's class discusses the genitalia of the respective sexes, the students are confused when they are shown a male's penis, only to turn the page and find the vagina covered by a censorship sticker, that is, of course, a circle.  The teacher claims that the school board voted to censor such imagery.  The circle as pure, ironically, covers up the anatomical object which is responsible for birth.  The circle continues to be relevant when Dawn makes an effort to remove the sticker to discover the image of the vagina and its anatomical correctness, which viewers are to assume does not reflect the mutated version she possesses.  Finally, the circle emerges brilliantly in the form of a solar flare, when Dawn attempts to give an abstinence talk after her being raped, in this instance the burden of purity shines upon her almost as if to draw attention to her lying.  Of course, other imagery emerges within the text, the obvious one being phallic symbols of oppression, again in a very literal sense in the anatomy discussion Dawn's class engages in, however, it also emerges in regards to the nuclear power plant chimneys that rise into the air directly over Dawn's residence, penetrating the sky and the sensibilities of everyone in contact, in the case of Dawn they affect her in a very biological sense.  This all leads to the clear castration metaphor, one, entrenched in a rhetoric of evolution.  Dawn's body is not an abnormality, per se, but as her teacher suggest when referring to rattle snakes a means to evolve to survive.  In this metaphor it is clear, that the film is reminding viewers that sexual violence occurs far too frequently and it is only a matter of time before women's anatomy learns to adapt to stop its occurring.

Key Scene:  Dawn's unveiling of the female anatomy is well-shot and seems to drive home the commentary on women's oppressed sexuality, which is the overarching commentary of the film as a whole.

This film is intense, clever and reflective of the possibilities of the horror genre to consider social issues.    It is quite worth checking out and certainly cheap enough to justify owning.

I Need You To Understand Why It Is Not Okay: Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011)

I had heard much talk about this decidedly independent film in 2011, but for a multitude of reason it went unwatched well after its initial release and farther into 2013, until I stumbled upon a copy at a local vinyl record store, making me realize that it was both a sign of it needing to be viewed, as well as a perfect addition to this month of women in film.  Initially I was uncertain about my feelings for this movie, I will admit that I thoroughly enjoyed it, but was cautious to give it praise for what may well have been nothing more than showy cinematography and layered metaphors, but this is not the case.  Between the absolutely phenomenal performances put on by the various members of the cast, as well as a non-linear yet forward moving plot, it is enough to make even the most inexperienced of cinephiles take note at its commitment to style and story.  It is a rare thing for a movie of this degree to be so realized, without sacrificing some degree of narrative quality in the process.  Director Sean Durkin used this film to come into the world of film in a big way, clearly taking no chances on the assumption that he would get follow up films, while certainly not as huge of a filmic statement as Beasts of the Southern Wild, Martha Marcy May Marlene, undoubtedly, offers viewers with something fresh and intense, without ever offering any sort of out or answer to its narrative twists and complexities.  It is challenging filmmaking at its finest, both easy to watch with its visual symmetry and sound styling, as well as equally challenging with its philosophical gravitas and societal condemnation.  Many speak of the best films allow viewers to enter a world of voluntary escapism in which they can ignore their problems, with a film like Martha Marcy May Marlene, the films images serve as a sort of counter-escapisim suggesting that much of what we do unconsciously avoids challenging our issues and misgivings.  This film asks those who engage with it to consider one woman's break from reality and reflect on what series of seemingly unrelated events could lead another person to doing the exact same thing.

Martha Marcy May Marlene while possessive of multiple title character names, focuses specifically on Martha (Elizabeth Olsen) a girl who has recently run away from some bizarre cult to seek a safe haven with her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson) and her slightly conservative husband Ted (Hugh Dancy).  While there it is clear that she is far detached from societal norms, in her desire to sludge around doing nothing all day or going skinny dipping in the broad daylight while children swim only yards away.   It is quite obvious, however, that Martha's disconnect is very psychological as well, as the narrative often jumps, without warning, to her experiences while at the commune, which is headed by Patrick (John Hawkes) who manages to simultaneously be disgusting and charismatic.  While Patrick is decidedly the patriarchal figurehead of the entire commune, Martha finds herself becoming close with Katie (Maria Dizzia) one of the other women in the group who seems to have completely committed to the seemingly utopian world created by Patrick, who ends up renaming Martha to the oddly alliterative Marcy May and eventually drugging her as part of a cleansing ritual, which leads to him having sex with her while she is unconscious.  This already problematic event is followed by Martha being involved in an unusual case of breaking and entering where a man is killed in front of her own eyes, despite her clear condemnation for its occurrence.  This series of intense and unexplained events lead to Martha being in a state of absolute disarray, helping to explain her initial fleeing from the commune, yet even leaving proves of little benefit and when she breaks down during a party thrown by Lucy and Ted they decide to admit her to a mental ward.  On the last day of staying with her sister, Martha sees a man across the river, who looks eerily similar to Patrick.  Saying nothing about it the film then cuts to a shot of Martha in the back seat of Ted's car, where she witnesses the couple almost run over a man, who then walks buy the car, again his identity is uncertain and they may well be the person she saw on the riverbank, who may well have been Patrick.  The final shot of the film is Martha looking back slightly paranoid, as though to assure her safety a thing that is never verified.

There is a lot going on within Martha Marcy May Marlene, some focusing on social commentaries on indoctrination and escaping depression through conspicuous consumption, yet the major commentaries, and pertinent to this month of blogging, are those concerning gender politics, in direct opposition to unquestioned patriarchal rule.  Little is explained about Patrick as a cult leader, yet his reign and importance are unquestioned, much like patriarchy in its most institutionalized situations.  This sort of backwards looking traditionalism which one often associates with the patriarchy is reiterated with the communes seeming desire to return to the past in a sort of totalitarian one for all way of living.  I say totalitarian and not socialist, because one cannot read a layer of equality into the world Patrick has created, aside from his assurance that everyone will receive food and a place to stay, it is clear that males possess superiority within their society, and even this is subjected to a higher degree of respectability for Patrick who apparently gets first choice on the new women in the commune.  Martha is clearly distraught from this experience and has trouble possessing a sexual identity afterwards, one that seems stuck in a sort of childlike state of exposure and social misdirection, she even wets herself at one point in the movie and instead of cleaning up the mess and telling her sister, she simply hides the stained dress under the bed, her shame is clearly a result of her negative sexual experiences, but her ability to deal with them is reflective of a person not mentally mature enough to understand her own issues.  It would be one thing if the commune were vilified and her safe place with her sister were idealized, however, both seem intent on pushing Martha towards normalcy, in which she accepts her own dependence on male figures.  Martha Marcy May Marlene is a film about oppression from many directions and a woman drowning whilst trying to navigate the tumultuous waters.

Key Scene:   The party scene is teaming with intensity and only one moment of many in which I became completely captivated by the monotonous, yet purposeful, pacing of the film.

I am quite fond of this movie, but realize that it may not be for everyone.  I would suggest renting the bluray specifically though because it is a beautifully shot film.

They Came In Here And Played God Damn Songs For Kids: Miami Connection (1987)

Stupid Cocaine!, was only one of the many phrases uttered in what may well be one of the greatest rediscoveries in the history of film.  Sure Miami Connection, is not on the level of somebody unearthing a great haul of Japanese Silent Films, nor is it really even something of great social relevance, however, what Miami Connection is indeed, is a reminder that sometimes a really awful movie can have enough heart, earnest misdirection and absurdity to emerge like a phoenix into the loving arms of cinephiles with even the most refined of tastes.  I often wax poetic on this blog about films reminding me that there are some serious issues occurring in our society as they relate to oppression, inequality and ignorance and while this is certainly not any less true on the blog today than it was before viewing this b-movie magic, I can say with a heavy degree of certainty that Miami Connection provided me with a welcomed escape from concern into a world of b-movie bliss.  One review of this rediscovered, now cult-classic suggested that it stands alone as a singular proof of the existence of God, and while I am certainly still an atheist at heart, I kind of got where the reviewer was going, because the perfect combination of absurdity and earnestness appears otherworldly almost transcendent of explanation.  A uneven stew of jump cuts, accidental breaking of basic filmmaking rules, the most incomprehensible storyline ever produced, and some of the most insanely misguided acting ever provides viewers with a spectacle for the ages.  Often when I am engaged with a film and can sense my own being pulled towards the screen it is for a deeply perplexing or philosophically engaging film, when it comes to Miami Connection it is due entirely to my own inability to comprehend the madness unfolding before my eyes.  Often with classic of a cult status they begin decent and split at the seams within moments, however, Miami Connection never has itself together, yet the film has so much heart and passion poured into it by the director, actors and all others involved that it almost formulates a perfect film in effort alone.  In all its synth rock and tae-kwon-do gloriousness, Miami Connection is a film for the ages and begs to be brought back to live and viewed by anyone willing to reconsider their understanding of cinema, a veritable gift from the movie gods if you will.

Miami Connection centers on the challenges faced by a Orlando based synth-rock band named Dragon Sound, who also happen to engage in tae-kwon-do during their free time.  The group consists of an ethnically varied group of men, including their leader and tae-kwon-do grandmaster Mark (Y.K. Kim), the bass-slapping lanky new wave kid John (Vincent Hirsch), the jerry curled Jim (Maurice Smith) whose quest to reconnect with his father proves a major plot point, as well as the unusually hairy John Oatesesque Tom (Angelo Janotti), as well as the soft-spoken, yet anti-drug use spouting Jack (Joseph Diamand).  The group struggles to be taken seriously as a musical act, considering that club promoters and musicians assume them to be a child's act with their kung-fu heavy performances.  Yet, while they do indeed get into a series of street fights over this issue of what could be described as band territory, it is, ultimately, a run in with a set of cocaine dealing ninjas that seems to push the narrative along, and yes you read that absolutely correct, the eventual villain within Miami Connection proves to be a ninja who deals in drugs in Florida, although that may not be as absurd as it sounds, after all it is Florida.  John, in all his Michael Phelps look-alike glory is also forced to contend with one of the ninja cohorts, who has not taken the dating of of his sister by John lightly leading to yet another set of fights, one in which the bearded brother is killed, although Jim reminds his girlfriend that it had to be done, and she certainly seems quite indifferent to it all happening.  Although the fights are important and the band's success is key to the plot...in theory, it all boils down to Jim finding his father and the last act of the movie certainly causes one to consider its possibility of occurring, ultimately, ending with a message of world piece and unity through nothing other than the martial art of tae-kwon-do, and of course, by ridding the streets of that "stupid cocaine."

I almost laugh at myself for trying to consider the critical theory as it relates to such an absurd piece of cinema, that is essentially about using the tenants of a martial art to create unity, however, there is seriously something to be said about how homoerotic the film Miami Connection proves to be, in fact, if it were not for the presence of John's girlfriend it would be really easy to describe the members of Dragon Sound as a group of gay orphans living in Orlando while practicing tae-kwon-do and music.  I mean nobody ever appears to wear a shirt and when they do it is lacking as much material as humanly possible, take for example their band shirts, which I would go out of my way to own, were it not for a considerable lack of sleeves.  While it may seem in jest to consider the homoerotic tendencies in this film, one must remember that it is assumed to be a group of young male orphans under the tutelage of an older sagely tae-kwon-do master, even if it is completely paternal, one cannot help but to consider the latent sexuality present in such a relationship, even if purely unconscious.  Again, I cannot ignore the severe lack of shirts being worn within this film, by both the members of Dragon Sound, as well as the villains they face who are disgusting and evidence of everything gross I experienced a few years back in Daytona Beach, and what my friend describes as equally disgusting in Panama City.  It is a particular strain of hypermasculinity in which the half-naked violent body seems to be praised, again tying to some obviously latent homoerotic desires, especially considering that the bad guys seem intent on using passive homophobic slurs as a means to criticize Dragon Sound.  Hell there is also something to be said about an Asian-American ninja dressed in white and his lackeys all dressed in black riding around on motorcycles, although it is much easier just to use the 80's as an excuse for that.  Ultimately though, Dragon Sound does some rather nice things in terms of promoting racial unity in America, and it is solely the result of group tae-kwon-do.

Key Scene:  The scene in which Jim professes his desire to take a shower before everyone else evolves into some god damn poetic realist art in a matter of minutes.

Buy this movie and buy extra copies to send to your friends with no explanation whatsoever.  It needs to be as much a force cult classic as it is an accidental discovery.  Trust me, there is a time in your film viewing life before Miami Connection and one after, the latter being much more enriched.  The folks at Drafthouse Films saved this work from obscurity so buy a copy from them or Amazon immediately as a  much deserved thanks.

Maybe If You Stopped Getting Drunk And Buying Stuff Off Craigslist: Entrance (2012)

I will openly admit that the first half an hour or so of this film had me really confused as to why the guys over at Battleship Pretension would even have the nerve to suggest this film, let alone fall out of their seats demanding that people go out of their way to watch it, of course I came around to their statement, especially for the back half of this movie which proves to satirically slap everything viewers have come to signify as low budget indie filmmaking.  Of course, Dallas Richard Hallam and Patrick Horvath's purposefully slow-paced horror film is by no means perfect and fails to properly deliver its premise in a timely manner, making a considerable amount of the film seems like superfluous, begging the question as to whether or not the last thirty minutes would not serve themselves better as a short film.  I am quite baffled by the clear disdain that has arisen towards this film, primarily from two parties, the indie film elites who find the horrific closing portions of the film unnecessarily gory, while on the other end horror fanatics who are incredibly dismissive of the lack of plot and terrible acting.  I wish to criticize both parties in their indictment, in so much as those who think the film is a travesty to indie film need to remember that most major success in the style often rely on a major absurdist event to bind the plot, where as horror films (at least the die hard ones) should never complain about inadequate acting and misguided plots, because they are a staple of the genre.  I will admit that the twist becomes rather predictable early on into viewing, yet no amount of assumption could prepare me for the very real intensity which happens when the film's bottom falls out and all hope of normalcy and reason disappear.  While Entrance has nothing on the absolute brilliance of Cabin in the Woods as a satire, it certainly manages to offer a new way to consider a filmmaking style as well as a genre, ultimately, making for a welcome and brief viewing experience far from the terrible film so many people seem insistent on reviewing.

In traditional indie film fashion Entrance begins by incessantly focusing on the most monotonous and irrelevant actions of a woman named Suziey (Suziey Block), a name I will admit is a bit excessive.  She seems content to drink heavily and work a few hours at her barista job, barely making enough to afford rent.  Her only point of happiness seems to exist with her close connection to her dog named Daryll, yet again not the greatest name choice ever.  Yet during a shower one night and overarching feeling of dread seems to consume Suziey and she hobs out of the shower to search her house, a quest that yields no results, but does little to avert her paranoia.  Seeking some sort of explanation for her disdain she resorts to a variety of actions, but when her dog goes missing she loses all sense of rationality and engages in some rather destructive behavior, some of which involves drunkenly sleeping with a man who attempts to leave unnoticed the next morning.  During one night of sleeping in a bed with her friend a light comes upon them off camera suggesting somebody is watching her, an act immediately followed by a photograph being taken.  While she cannot verify that any of these paranoid feelings are valid, Suziey, nonetheless, knows that she cannot stay in Los Angeles and plans to leave, but not without having one last party of drunken decadence.  During this party the lights go out and assuming it to be a circuit break, Suziey heads down to fix it, only to be attacked by a masked man upon successfully turning them back on.  After the unknown individual confesses his love for her he proceeds to kill the attendees of the party one by one, leaving only Suziey to share in his vision of unity.  In a disturbingly poetic last scene, the killer forces Suziey to look upon the L.A. nightscape with his arms around her, suggesting that her future, despite her misgivings, will invariably involve staying put.

The metaphor in this film is a beautiful thing, often in the works of indie filmmakers it is blatantly obvious and obnoxious, at least I felt this to be the case with something like The Pleasure of Being Robbed wherein the metaphor of robbing people was to reflect the main characters own inability to engage with society in a productive manner, yet her well-to-do appearance and unusual means to escape the malaise of her life just did not equate to a decent film.  Entrance instead uses the idea of being "killed" by your surroundings in a very literal manner to undermine the half-inspired diatribes of indie kids living in cites and situations which they think themselves always above.  The film completely displays that the monotony and "tragedy" of these hipster kids lives are actually not worth of being dead over, especially when they indeed die and plead for their well-being to magically return.  Of course, the film could have established this notion much earlier instead of making the paranoia be the main narrative focus for nearly an hour of the film, yet I cannot help but enjoy the means by which an intensity is built from the moment the shower scene occurs up until the final moments on the balcony.  If I were to produce any single critique about the metaphor it would easily be directed at the somewhat passive means by which the film deals with Suziey's apparent alcoholism, especially since in the death metaphor her own addiction proves the sole factor, aside, of course, from mass murder in keeping her stationary.  She could stop her path of destruction and move away when she pleases, but she is far to indifferent and attached to monotony to do so and a very real act of destruction forces her to accept that disconcerting fact.  Hell, Entrance really does some clever things with its cinematic output and it should really be reconsidered by the many parties who seem intent on dismissing if for single factors.

Key Scene:  The killer reveal is obvious in its timing, yet it is so intense that it still manages to be the best portion of the film, not to mention that it involves some rather impressive single shot takes.

This is a quick watch on Netflix and well worth spending an afternoon with, I am still somewhat on the fence about completely liking the film and would love to hear some more thoughts on its nature and execution.

What's Wrong With A Stroller?: Away We Go (2009)

In the wake of the seeming success of Skyfall, a film I have yet to watch and as reflection of the relevance American Beauty seems to lose as the decades continue, I was somewhat surprised upon beginning Away We Go to discover that it was directed by Sam Mendes, who has director credits for the previously mentioned and critically celebrated films.  I am uncertain as to why Away We Go managed to accrue much less praise considering that I found it to be incredibly provocative, well-executed and perhaps one of the most difficult films to watch without immediately exuding a heavy emotional response.  It combines all the sentimentality, quirkiness and obscure guitar heavy music one could desire from an indie film, yet with a director like Mendes at the wheel and well established comedic actors the film transcends this genre cornering both in its mainstream qualities as well as its vibrancy.  The actors in this film, most of which are playing considerably self-loathing characters, deliver performances of such a high degree that it cannot, and should not be ignored.  I would venture to pair this film with something like Up In The Air, although Away We Go focuses on a considerably younger group of people, nonetheless, it manages to tap into the life force of those it studies with such earnestly and vigor that it makes for a insanely watchable film.  It also does not hurt that the film is visually alluring and delivers some of the most jarringly beautiful cinematography one could ever excpect from a film which sells itself as a light comedy.  I actually wonder if it is not the terrible misappropriation of this film as a comedic piece that caused its initial demise, because while I certainly laughed loudly at moments throughout Away We Go its larger context and motifs reflect the most tragic of human moments, ones that seem doomed to continue and it suggest that only those with the strongest of love can transcend the absurdity, however, escaping such physical attachments still takes little account of the emotional and mental strains such a framework causes.

Away We Go begins with a couple discovering that they are to have a child, the couple Verona (Maya Rudolph) and Burt (John Krasinski) remain unmarried, although they are clearly mad about each other, an act that is a direct honor to Verona's parents who died when she was only twenty-two.  The realization that their lives will change irreversibly after the birth of their child, Verona and Burt plan a trip accross The United States and into Canada with the hopes of discovering the perfect place to raise their child, a decision heavily influenced by the announcement that Burt's parents will be moving to Belgium well before the birth of the child.  This trip allows for both Verona and Burt to reflect on their own relationship and what they have achieved with their young adult lives, which becomes quite blatant between each group they meet.  The first two people, one of which was a former coworker of Verona consume alcohol feverishly and demean their kids as they clearly live through their own disillusionment, blaming everyone but themselves for their unhappiness.  Verona's sister Grace (Carmen Ejogo) seeks solace within her sister, while also displaying some degree of jealousy towards what she sees between Burt and Verona.  In a meet-up with Burt's half-sister LN (Maggie Gyllenhaal) the couple realize the disaster that is "new age" parenting, a method in which LN and her partner Roderick (Josh Hamilton) seem far more concerned with embracing their own miseries and desires than providing any sense of normalcy for their children.  When they meet another couple, old college friends, they witness the problems of miscarriage and desire to fill a void of loss.  Even during an unexpected trip to Burt's brother adds a layer to their understanding of live, as they help him through the devastation of his wife's unexpected leaving of him and his daughter.  Defeated and more confused than ever Verona and Burt fall asleep on a trampoline and awake to decide that their best course of action is to return home and raise their child, although we are not quite sure in the closing moments of the film where exactly that home may be.

This film poignantly captures the woes of growing up in a world that problematically embraces individualized misery.  The characters noted above, all exist in their own severe depressions and become so preoccupied with the disdain that it causes them to distance themselves from one another.  This causes each to resort to some degree of false fulfillment, whether it be alcohol or hyper-protective parenting.  Even with some one like LN, viewers are shown a person who is so concerned with creating a cozy and unified existence with their child that they create a humongous bed for the who family to share, not realizing the irony in making such a large sleeping space, an act that has inherent intimacy about it.  Of course,  the exception to this action within the film comes through Verona and Burt, and while they are certainly individuals, there actions are often extensions of one another.  It is only when Verona reflects on her parents death that she steps away from Burt for any length of time, often waiting until he is either on the phone with clients or sleeping as to not suggest a separation from him.  It is actually their incredible closeness blended with an ability to organically separate and unify as necessary that allows for Burt and Verona to move throughout the film, eventually growing above everyone else pain and suffering.  They often contest whether they are growing up properly and worry about their futures in relation to those they have viewed, yet, one cannot help but feel as though their reassurance and comfort allows for fears to be quickly overcome and shared happiness to be explosively shared, as we see in the closing, heart-wrenchingly beautiful scene.  They choose to go about their lives, in both misery and happiness together, as opposed to the individualized concerns of those they encountered previously, made all the more pertinent by the fact that they are able to do so even without the ties of marriage.

Key Scene:  The closing moments of this film are exceptional and a worthy conclusion to such a fantastic and criminally underrated film.

The bluray for this is quite magnificent and incredibly cheap, a copy is essential.

I Haven't Lived. I've Died A Few Times: Harold and Maude (1971)

Harold and Maude has been one of the many films I was ashamed to admit to having not seen,  I intended to watch it some time ago, but then Criterion eventually announced that they would be releasing the film which caused me to wait even longer to view the work, not to mention actually purchasing the bluray which meant even longer of a wait.  Thankfully, and much to my elation, I have finally viewed what is perhaps the greatest dark comedy ever realized.  Harold and Maude is a harbinger of everything we as collective viewers have come to love about indie romantic comedies.  The influence on directors like Wes Anderson and The Duplass Brothers is not just likely, it is pretty damn obvious.  Within the narrative world of Harold and Maude we have two characters who simply cannot exist in a normal society for their actions and ideals are far to absurd and in some cases to dysfunctional to prove malleable with a strictly conservative social outlook, one that is brilliantly referenced throughout the film with various images of Nixon, Nathan Hale and a variety of pious religious figures.  Fortunately, for the films main characters, nobody else existing in Hal Ashby's world seems particularly normal either, even those who claim to the the torchbearers for respectable values.  Quirky is not the right word to describe this film, nor is off-beat quite right either, for the film is realized and is certainly aware of its rhythm and nature, all be it one that is not particularly traditional, however, I would argue that to be more of its historical place in American cinema than anything else.  Perhaps the Criterion put it best in the movie description by calling the film idiosyncratic, because it is essentially about two definitively idiosyncratic individuals coming together and learning not only to deal with their competing idiosyncrasies, but inherently different world philosophies, as well.  All heightened by some exceptional cinematography and a great, then Cat Stevens, soundtrack, Harold and Maude is a film that transcends its movie space into a greater vision.

Harold and Maude begins with title character Harold (Bud Cort), aimlessly wandering about his house, only to engage in what appears to be a hanging, an act that receives very little acknowledgement from his mother Mrs. Chasen (Vivian Pickles).  It is revealed that this is by no means Harold's first faux-suicide and much to the dismay of his psychiatrist and uncle the young man is quite obsessed death, going so far as to attend funerals in his free time and spending his inheritance money on what is perhaps the hippest hearst every filmed.  Realizing that her son is a social outcast, Mrs. Chasen attempts to set her son up with various blind dates, all of which fail miserably when Harold engages in various fake suicides while in their presence.  Finding no other alternative then to send Harold into the Army.  Along the way Harold meets a woman who also seems to have a penchant for crashing funerals, one who continually approaches him while at the various services.  The older woman, Harold comes to learn is an eccentric woman named Maude (Ruth Gordon).  Maude's carefree attitude and love for life instantly rubs off on Harold, who takes more than a liking to the old bohemian and begins spending a considerable amount of time with her, engaging in everything from the stealing of plants and cars to having picnics at wreckage sites.  As Harold begins to fall for Maude harder, he informs his mother of his feelings, leading her to completely reprimand Harold for his desires, sending him to various male figureheads to receive chastising remarks, the most unusual ones coming from a priest.  Fortunately, the two are able to spend a considerable amount of time together and on Maude's eightieth birthday, Harold throws a big celebration and opens up about the intensity of his feelings towards Maude, who informs Harold that she has taken poison and never intended to live past eighty.  Frantically, Harold attempts to save Maude by taking her to the hospital, only to get bogged down in paperwork.  Eventually, Maude dies and Harold is distraught.  The film juxtaposes him driving his hearst towards a cliff, only to exit right before the car flies over the edge.  Harold then plays a banjo he received from Maude as he walks back towards the road dancing.

The conservative oppressive commentaries are all to clear within Harold and Maude.  As noted the ever present images of Richard Nixon, Pope John Paul the Second and various other historically conservative figures inundate the mis-en-scene, often reflecting the issues facing Harold throughout the film, we see this quite uproariously in his initial conversation with his uncle about joining the armed forces.  It causes clear identity issues within the young man, particularly considering that he has some sort of detachment from his father, who we as viewers are to assume passed away prior to the point in which we are introduced to Harold.  However, another larger issue of maternal longing problematizes the narrative, something that is reinforced by a picture of Freud present in his psychiatrists office, as well as a unusual scene involving a wooden sculpture in Maude's train car residence.  Not only does Harold lack a father figure, his connection with his mother is so fractured, as well that he find himself constantly reflecting on death as a means to be buried and arguably return to the womb.  However, this is not to suggest that his relationship with Maude is a mother son one, because it does have a very sexual component to it that would make their relationship incestual and far less romantic.  It is by no means such a thing, if anything Harold is very much asexual and void of desires, the encounter between himself and Maude was a means of loving intimacy arguably transcendent of the act of sex.  Harold, and the same argument could be made for Maude, are seeking some sort answer to the longing in their lives, for Harold it is accepting life, while for Maude, despite seeing death while in the Holocaust, nonetheless, must accept that she cannot escape its inevitability.

Key Scene:  The moment where Harold and Maude share in a song at the piano might be one of the best filmed occurrences of two people falling in love ever .

Buy the bluray to this masterpiece, it is one of the best releases by Criterion in quite awhile and well worth owning to watch and revisit multiple times.

You Don't Go To Work Everyday. You Got To A Bar Everyday: Trees Lounge (1996)

It is fitting that right off of my month of horror films, I got into something like Trees Lounge.  The film is about gross people, living in a gross existence dealing with the gross experiences surrounding their lives.  However, as Steve Buscemi's directorial debut, this focus on less than amicable persons manages to capture a few moments of beauty within these somewhat uninspired lives, as well as catch more than enough of the tragedy one can expect latent within the films subject.  Furthermore, the film captures a few moments of comedy, as one could come to expect when considering Buscemi is in control.  A criticism could be directed at this film for being somewhat slow in its pace and a bit all around in what exactly it is trying to say, but I cannot help but find a simple adoration in what is both being said and not said within the film.  The actors, a mixture of notable stars, indie icons and flat out amateur individuals allows for something that both seemingly reflects a film about drifting personas as well as a conscious commentary on the cyclical nature of joy and pain as it reflects a larger concept of humanity. It is quite likely that Trees Lounge could have been so much more, but I would argue for a directorial debut that it too could have been so much less.  It is hard not to find something to love about this film, even if the characters are inconceivably unlikeable.  The soundtrack is magnificent and contains a level of hipness that could easily cause one to think that it is a Jim Jarmusch film, a notion that would be seconded by the somewhat cursory nature of the relationships between the individuals in the film narrative.  Trees Lounge does not exist as a film concerned with overdramatizing life and all its woes, instead; it simply portrays one man's desultory movement around a small town, in which he finds many half-hearted friends, a night of fleeting love and quite a few enemies, ultimately, realizing that a life he thinks to be uniquely his own has already existed, and its outcome is less than welcoming.

Steve Buscemi plays a double role in that he is the director, as well as the the main character of the film, Tommy, a down and out alcoholic, whose severe gambling habits have cause him to become unemployed, losing his job as a mechanic after stealing from his boss Rob (Anthony LaPaglia), who just happens to be living with Tommy's ex-girlfriend, and possible mother of his child Theresa (Elizabeth Bracco).  Nothing seems to fair well for Tommy, he continually seeks jobs as a mechanic, only to be turned down, leading him to continually drink his evenings away, until the passing of his Uncle Al (Seymour Cassel) causes him to revisit many of his detached family members during a funeral.  Many of these family members are less than receptive to their alcoholic kin only offering passive acknowledgement of his presence, save for a close family friend's daughter Debbie (Chloe Sevigny).  After taking up Al's former job as an ice cream truck driver, Tommy finally appears to have things going for him, even making a close relationship with one of his fellow bar fly friends Mike (Mark Boone Junior), as well as spending much more time with Debbie.  It is, in fact, during one night at the bar that Debbie's appearance spurs Tommy to spend more time with the young girl, eventually leading to a night of them making out.  Debbie's father and close friend of Tommy's Jerry (Daniel Baldwin) discovers what Tommy has done and enters into a fit of rage, resulting in chasing him down about a baseball field grabbing a bat to take to not only Tommy but his ice cream truck as well.  The film then displays Tommy discussing an alternate future with Theresa in which they both would be happy sharing a child together, before he eventually heads back to the bar to take his place in the seat of a former regular whose leave of absence was due to health issues, suggesting his own future in the process.

The basic premise of Trees Lounge does not sound as though it will make for a particularly watchable film, viewers are essentially provided with a variety of druggie alcoholic individuals who fail to take any credit for their lives, particularly in that they seem more content with numbing their minds from their despair than actually rising above their situation.  One could certainly make this case for Mike who desperately wants to rekindle a relationship between his wife and daughter, but cannot bring himself to leave the bar for a day or to provide an honest account of anything to his wife.  Instead of accepting his problems, Mike continually blames his wife for refusing to accommodate his selfish demands.  Similarly, Tommy continually complains about the issues of not having a job and how it is affecting his ability to traverse through a confrontational world, yet seems quite content to blow what little money he has on booze, or ignore job offers that he deems above his character.  These descriptions certainly reflect a film in which the characters are not redeemable, but a larger issue of lack of communication and community influences the narrative.  Tommy, Mike and a few other regulars know each other closely, however, when it comes to helping one another do anything but drunkenly walk home they could care less for their safety.  For example, Mike has an opportunity to employ Tommy within his moving company but ignore his requests, perhaps because he figuratively cannot hear Tommy's cries for help, or literally does not want his stoic, cool bar persona to become connected to his rather loathsome public persona.  Even when Jerry assumes that Tommy might be taking a liking to Debbie, he could have been more adamant about it not occurring, but a lethal amount of indifference causes him to shrug his shoulders and inevitably let it occur.  Characters in Trees Lounge are afraid to communicate and this lack of interaction causes for a fractured and, continually, doomed community, one which Tommy is likely never to escape, and perhaps we should on a very small level feel bad for him.

Key Scene:  The entire baseball confrontation is perhaps one of the funniest things to ever happen in an indie film.

This film is well worth watching, buying a copy is perhaps not that necessary, but, thankfully, it is on Netflix watch instantly making a viewing quite easy.