Only This Much Shadow Left: The Day I Became A Woman (2000)

I am going on the record as saying that were I afforded an unlimited amount of time, brain power and ability to master an understanding of cultural mores and language that I would wholly spill my time into understanding all things related to Iranian cinema.  While it is not my primary focus or even one of my sub-research interests as I become more invested in my academic endeavors I am quite certain in my assertion that it has produced some of the best films in the past two decades, hovering almost entirely around the wonderful offerings of Abbas Kiarostami.  However, he is far from the only director working in the country and others have produced keenly meta-cinematic works that manage to consider the state of identity in Iran both on a literal and metaphorical level, all lending in some degree to the impossible, yet perfect, blending of the realist and allegorical tradition of this countries cinematic output.  I adore these works, A Moment of Innocence and Close-Up being two notable works, however, upon the discovery that there existed a film by an Iranian woman that had achieved equal status demanded its being sought out, or more accurately introduced to me by a professor, and the result was nothing short of an evocation on art and the nature of the self when it is in contrast to competing notions of what one should do in a society whose history is a maddening conflation of contradictions as well as rich and proud history.  The Day I Became a Woman is the poetic and magical work by Marzieh Meshkini and it is nothing short of pure cinematic perfection.  Told in a tripartite narrative, this film manages to cleverly navigate tenuous boundaries of temporal and spatial existence to show that perhaps not everything is as idyllic in a country whose global exoticization, paired with a particularly tense relationship with the "western" world has resulted in a cinematic experience so inherently unique that to place another layer of non-normative identity upon it causes it to take on an ethereal and outright moving quality.  If cinema truly has the ability to move beyond the real into another layer of understanding, The Day I Became a Woman is the backbone to such an aesthetic argument.

Clearly divided between three stories, The Day I Became a Woman begins with the experiences of Haveh (Fatemah Cherag Akhar) a girl on the island of Kish who has just turned nine years old, therefore making her subject to the wearing of traditional chador (Islamic headdress for Iran).  Confused by this demand, enforced by her grandmother and own mother, Haveh simply wants to spend the day playing with her friend Hassan (Hassan Nebah).  While she cannot put off her becoming woman she is able to bargain for an extra hour of play with Hassan that is limited by his having to complete homework, thus resulting in her having only time to share an exchange of a lollipop with Hassan before being placed in the chador and carted off by her mother.  The second story centers on Ahoo (Shabnam Toloui) a young woman who is shown competing in a bicycle race with other woman on the island and while she seems content with simply riding with the pack when a her husband approaches on horseback demanding that she give up racing and return home, the panicked Ahoo continues to ride forward never stopping or appearing to consider giving up.  Indeed, as her husband and other men from her tribe approach demanding that she stop, Ahoo drives forward blowing past all the other women in her race, however, when the tribe gets their leaders involved, including some of Ahoo's brothers, their blocking of the road prevent her from moving forward, becoming a thing in the background of another riders line of sight.  The third portion of the story focuses on Hoora, or Houra (Azizeh Sedighi) an elderly woman landing in Kish in hopes of doing some extensive duty free shopping.  Houra, complete with a series of strings on her fingers to remind her of the items she needs, begins accruing furniture and appliances at an alarming rate, her source of money is confusing to all involved.  Yet when she completes her list, save for one item on her finger which she cannot recollect, she is not quite ready to leave, therefore she sets up her wares on the beach in a sort of house without walls much to the elation of the boys she has hired as help and the confusion of two women who have approached on bicycle, purportedly having just finished the race involving Ahoo.  Regardless, Houra has the boys build her a raft that allows her to float her goods onto a ship in the distance skyline, all the while the newly chador donning Haveh looking on with an enigmatic look that suggests both despondence and curiosity.

Time, space and identity are all clear themes within Meshkini's stunning film.  However, to some degree, these are also central issues in pretty much every film, although uniquely so to Iranian cinema and its bizarre world of hyper-censorship.  I, however, am fascinated with the ways in which Meshkini uses movement to suggest something transitory, if not constantly liminal.  The figures in her film seem to be caught in an impossible space between the world of representation and the reality the viewers are living.  Take for example, the innocent, yet highly sexualized sharing of a lollipop between Haveh and Hassan.  The continuity in this shot is off, but it would appear to be a choice on the part of Meshkini, as the two are now split off from the world, the cutting of the scene never showing the two children (or new adults?) in the same frame, it would break censorship, yet through a stroke of delightful precociousness, the two share in an intimate encounter, overlaid by suckling sounds on the overdub soundtrack that moves between the diagetic and non-diagetic simultaneously.  The two move in impossible ways because to depict them in a normal encounter would be to face off against strict censorship.  Incidentally, even in its cut off manner, censors still suggested that Meshkini remove the scene altogether.  Ahoo's movement is perhaps most evocative, because the constant shots from the forefront of her biking towards the screen invoke the same sense of terror that occurred in Arrival at the Train Station or the Klans ride in Birth of a Nation.  However, what is impending and fear inducing, is instead a shared encounter between Ahoo fleeing an oppressive past and the viewers, assumedly the women encountering the film.  The intercuts of Ahoo's peddling feet and the clomping of horses chasing the rebellious Ahoo suggest a movement both transitionally, but also metaphorically as she becomes animalistic in her flight from illogical oppression, but more importantly, an unseen predator.  Finally, it is worth quickly noting Houra's own movement which is decidedly more aided by the mechanical, whether it be her landing in the space on a plane or the aid of her extended wheelchair/pushcart, Houra represents a figure whose movement is figuratively disembodied and requires the help of others.  Her female identity overlaid by this and a desire to consume all that she never had speaks to immobility of women in the space of cinema and culture in wild and transgressive ways.  Again it is worth noting that the film was made within censorship restrictions, but manages to knowingly contradict them at every opportunity.

Key Scene:  The lollipop scene is seriously one of the most complex of cinematic encounters I have ever witnessed and this is in a film full of visually transgressive commentary.

The DVD transfer is not great, but aside from a Korean region 3 DVD it is the only option and it looks phenomenal regardless.  As such buying a copy is a MUST.

This Is Not A House, It Is A Machine: Thir13en Ghosts (2001)

This (Thir13en Ghosts) and the spelling in the title will be the only times I acknowledge the correct spelling of Thirteen Ghosts because it is a pain in the ass to type quickly and is frankly rather obnoxious in that it really serves no purpose aside from going out of its way to be different, or possibly to avoid some issues in copyright that were likely faced by the producers of this film.  Indeed, the trying to be cool that translates into obnoxiousness is perhaps the best way to describe what is occurring in Thirteen Ghosts, a bit of 2001 flare that was brought to my attention when I heard an employee at the great land of high film tastes Blockbuster, suggesting it to a customer, claiming that it was one of the better scary movies of the past decade or so.  To be fair, this Blockbuster was going out of business and I had a copy of Session 9 in my hand ready to purchase, incidentally a far superior film (my personal favorite of horror cinema) and a work that came out in the same year.  I, as is usual, am digressing from the film at hand Thirteen Ghosts, or what could also be described as the biggest squandering of potential committed in the digital age.  Thirteen Ghosts does a few really cool things visually throughout, but for every bit of great work done, even the glaringly outdated CGI, there are a ton of terrible narrative choices, only doubled by a lot of blatant breaks in continuity or signifiers of bad, or more appropriately lazy, filmmaking.  It is almost too obvious that all the film's budget was dumped into the makeup and special effects for this film, which do pay off, even if cheesy by contemporary standards wherein post-production has become exponentially better, allowing for the uses of such creatures to more evocatively work.  Indeed, for being little more than a barebones labyrinth narrative, Thirteen Ghosts never really amounts to anything remotely tangible, given minimally realized characters, placed in a space hat is clearly influenced by the point and click adventure world of only a few years prior, one could mistake this work as a misguided labor of love by Steve Beck, whose only two directorial efforts come in the way of somewhat obscure horror film remakes, but attaching the term love to this would suggest it was made with any degree of passion, which is far from the case and as much as Tony Shalhoub tries to save this film with his acting, there are only so many ways even the most season of actors can deliver the phrase "what is going on?"

Thirteen Ghosts begins with paranormal hunter Cyrus Kriticos (F. Murray Abraham) and his psychic aid Dennis Rafkin (Matthew Lillard) attempting to track down a violent ghost, one that Cyrus claims is necessary to an unexplained quest.  After fending off a few competing paranormal experts Cryrus and by unwilling involvement Dennis, are able to capture a ghost, but it is at the result of Cyrus' life.  The narrative then flashes forward to show the experiences of the Arthur Kriticos (Tony Shalhoub) a recently widowed father who is attempting to make due in a cramped apartment with his daughter Kathy (Shannon Elizabeth) and son Bobby (Alec Roberts), his teachers salary barely able to afford the aid of a maid named Maggie (Rah Digga).  When an unsuspected knock at the door reveals lawyer Benjamin Moss (JR Bourne) informing Arthur that he has inherited a house from his late uncle Cyrus he cautiously accepts the offer and travels with his family and Maggie in tow to the house, a building entirely made of windows covered in Latin writing, awaiting there is arrival is Dennis, passing as an electrician, who is equally eager to enter the house.  The unassuming Arthur allows him to do so and the entire group, including Benjamin, begin exploring the house cautiously.  It becomes clear rather quickly through a combination of Dennis revealing his true identity and the splitting of the group that the house is even more bizarre than its looks would suggest, indeed proving to be a large machinery that serves as both a caging device to a variety of ghosts, including Arthur's late wife, all intended to work together in an ancient configuration to open up what Dennis calls The Eye of Hell.   However, given that the process requires one last ghost, a sacrifice by a broken hearted individual, Arthur realizes that there is a real possibility that he might have to kill himself in order to save his family.  All through this endeavor, the ghosts, many of which met violent deaths chase the persons in the house, killing a few in the process.  After the arrival of another ghost hunter and the reemergence of Cyrus from what may or may not be the dead, it becomes clear that Arthur's task might be a bit different than assumed, but no less predicated upon making sure he and his children are not killed by the thirteen ghosts roaming the halls of the house.

The plot is rather straightforward in Thirteen Ghosts, as noted serving as a means to show off a set of creepy ghosts and a few, at the time, impressive tricks with CGI.  Where the film seems to fail is in its attempts to synthesize these various elements into anything productive, even kowtowing to prevailing trends in the genre at the time.  Clearly working in a post-Asian horror invasion, many of the ghosts are created more for a creepy factor than a sense of threat, although The Hammer (Herbert Duncanson) is wholly intended to be slasher.  However, the way creepy ghosts work is to provide them with a sense of constant impending dread, as is the case with The Girl in the Ring, or pretty much every spectral entity in The Exorcist.  Here the creepiest ghosts The Torso (Daniel Wesley) and The Great Child (C. Ernst Harth) receive little screen time a choice I am fully willing to blame on a director that was more comfortable going for slash and off screen shock than any degree of ambient horror.  In fact, I am usually a fan of filmmakers using editing tricks and subverting of the visual palette to add intensity to a scene, but this choice starts off heavy and becomes grating well before the film ends.  Steve Beck seems to think the use of the contrast image can serve as a metaphor for every type of mental break in a film, causing the ability of the characters identities to become distinct or varied pretty much impossible. Finally, the film seems to openly embrace lifting the most obvious tropes from post-digital horror films imaginable, whether it be an inclusion of a widowed father with two distantly aged children, one who happens to be an attractive girl.  Despite a passing suggestion at having an anger issue, Arthur is made to be a lovable loser void of any point of socially problematic behavior, and his children's vanity in the case of Kathy and ignorance in regards to Bobby are neither problematic or worthy of narrative chastising.  Finally, and most offensively, the character of Maggie appears to serve no other quota than allowing for a black character to be present in the narrative, her constantly loud behavior and means of "stopping" the recorded incantation are not only in bad taste, but border on outright racism, never mind the closing moment of the film.  Overall the film suffers from being poorly planned, executed and produced, which is a shame for a film with such wonderful special effects work throughout.

Key Scene:  The segment revealing all the ghosts simultaneously is the only thing of interest in this film and it comprises, at most, two or three minutes of the narrative.

Avoid this film unless you are really trying to see every ghost story put to film, I would strongly urge a look at Session 9 instead, the far superior 2001 film shot entirely on digital.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Will Civilize This Land: The Proposition (2005)

A certain sort of westernized frame work, coincidentally enough, leads to the western being a film whose setting must necessarily exist within the frameworks of America or its bordering nations, even when filmed entirely in Italy, as was the case for spaghetti westerns.  Yet, other nations have proven to offer their own spins and reconsiderations of the western genre, some create desert spaces to justify their presence instead becoming homages more so than actual situated westerns.  However, Australia, given its vast outback and problematic relationship with its own native populations proves to more than an appropriate setting for a western film, certified by the absolutely stunning and visually devastating 2005 film The Proposition.  Directed by John Hillcoat and based on a script by musician/writer Nick Cave, it is a desolate and bleak consideration of the world of the west, demanding in the historical context of failing British colonization that viewers truly consider what they find idyllic about any wild land, whether it relate to the Australian outback specifically or extend beyond to the entire running over of nations on a global scale.  The Proposition does not step away from the graphic, instead; the camera lingers on the the bloodied limbless bodies and the destruction brought about by feuding ideologies, never stepping away from the severely violent world, for to do so would be to betray the historical realities of such an era.  A wild gunman in the context of The Proposition is depicted with an appropriate degree of concerned gravitas, as opposed to unquestioned adoration, much as the initial villains of the film prove to be caught in their own cogs of performance and expectations that cause them to engage in behavior for which they are always ashamed.  Where a film like Saving Private Ryan would use blood in heavy does to cast a grit over poetic and angelic figures, The Proposition uses blood to stain their identities, reminding each person who navigates this near magical realist world that each solitary action has extended consequences which will forever affect one's ability to move about in the world, and in more problematic scenarios it will affect the ability of those closest to them in dire and destructive ways.

The Proposition begins in the midst of a historically infamous rape and murder of the family by the gang known as the Burns Brothers.  The trio includes the silent but authoritative Charlie (Guy Pearce), the youngest brother and wide-eyed accomplice Mikey (Richard Wilson), both of whom are hap hazardously led by the oldest and most notorious brother Arthur (Danny Huston).  When the shootout at the Hopkins family home goes sour, both Charlie and Mikey are arrested by Captain Stanley (Ray Winstone) a man whose desires to civilize the aboriginal peoples are constantly frustrated and detracted by the actions of the Burns Brothers and others.  Realizing that he does not possess the skills or men to track down Arthur who managed to escape during the fight, Stanley offers Charlie the proposition of Mikey's life in exchange for Charlie killing his own brother.  Charlie begrudingly agrees realizing that he values his younger brothers more innocent life over that of his villainous and maddened brother.  Charlie is also one of the few people who is capable of getting within range of Arthur's camp a location both the authorities and aboriginals fear.  While Charlie is tracking down his brother, a task that happens quite quickly, Stanley deals with his own affairs, particularly providing a safe space for his wife Martha (Emily Watson) to live.  Stanley attempts repeatedly to distract his wife from the woes of the outback, but when Stanley is approached by a superior and told that he must publicly flog Mikey for his actions, Martha is shown the tragic world of the outback and its layers of violence.  After a run-in with aboriginal people, Charlie makes it to the camp and reconsiders his willingness to kill is brother in the process.  Following an encounter with an aged bounty hunter Charlie is reminded of the psychotic nature of his brother, although he ignores this and suggest that they break their brother out of jail, a task that ends up in Mikey's death.  Arthur follows-up by exacting violent revenge upon Stanley, while a posse member rapes Martha in front of his eyes.  Walking in on this, Charlie kills both the posse member and shoots his brother twice, realizing it was, ultimately, his terrible  decisions that led to this point, although since he is his brother, he sits lovingly with him as the sun sets and he fades into death.

The Proposition is almost too otherworldly to be considered a realist western, in fact, as I briefly suggested in the opening paragraph there is a certain quality of magical realism about the film.  The character of Charlie seems far more a spirit who moves through the outback on a quest for self-understanding and meaning in the face of incredible suffering and alienation.  In fact, considering that this is very much set in the Australian outback one could read this as a walkabout of sorts for Charlie who must come to the decision as to which brother he is willing to lose.  Of course, the walkabout is not a trope of the western per se, but in some of the more revisionist and Native American oriented westerns the idea of the spirit quest certainly proves a continual theme.  I would certainly argue that the film is as much a spirit quest for Charlie as it is anything else.  Even when one considers that half of the narrative is tied to the experiences of Stanley, one could read this as a sort of clinging, on the part of Charlie to a previous world of traditionalism and civilization, and as Stanley comes to realize that his own notions of Britain as being a figure of civilized colonization to be a lie, so too does Charlie come to realize that the world is a malleable and constantly shifting space, one that allows him to inexplicably blow the head off of an aboriginal who has downed him with a spear, even if the act involved a bit of aid from others its initial dreamlike quality cannot be overlooked.  Much in the vein of a spirit quest, Charlie encounters figures who defy logic and seem to only exist on his spectral plane whether it be the drunken bounty hunter Jellon Lamb (John Hurt) or the grotesque version of Stanley post-beating by Arthur.  The question then becomes whether or not his quest is a success, the obvious answer would be to say no, because in the process he has lost both brothers, of which one could claim were at his own hands.  However, it is also quite possible that the his siblings serve as respective weights to the physical world, Mikey being the burden of fear and Arthur being he entanglement of sin and lust.  It is the loss of these in the final moments of the film that seem to allow Charlie a final respite, the camera jumping starkly back as he sits next to his dying brother, perhaps suggest Charlie's spirt leaving its corporeal cage.

Key Scene:  The whipping/singing scene is tragedy and beauty met in a jarring yet captivating manner.

This movie is excellent and helps to stand as a reminder that not al revisionist westerns need rely on humor to be engaging. The bluray is a must.

I'll Be Shooting For My Own Hand: Brave (2012)

It is almost always a sure thing that a film by Disney will at the very least look amazing, and it is only a notion extended when one considers that the best work by the company is often released by Pixar, which is exceptionally spectacular.  However, what is much less assured is to what social commentaries the films may make, for example, Wall-E serves as a gorgeous piece of 3D animated film while also being a surprisingly scathing critique of all things leading our technological society to brainless reliance on machines.  In contrast is Tangled, one of the more cinematic Disney film, that draws upon some excellent references to old school Robin Hood movies, as well as also containing a significant female character.  Yet, Tangled, like so many of its predecessors manages to regress into heteronormativity by its closing moments never really allowing the revolutionary gender politics it seems so intent on setting up in the films opening moments.  Brave, a film from last year, seemed to continually emerge as this sort of enigmatic feminist statement directed at kids, via a Pixar film, although, the more I think about it, I would argue that Pixar aims the narrative elements of its films at adults, while offering sound visual elements to capture children.  Regardless, Brave is, much to my surprise, quite embracing of women's singularity and manages to make a considerable portion of the narrative center around this element, as one young girl struggles to reject gender commodifications and perform in a way that she finds comfortable and liberating, regardless of the expectations of tradition.  Brave is both a highly entertaining film, as well as one that keeps its narrative focus direct and socially advanced.  It was quite easy for me to become captured in the flora laden landscape of the film occupied by vibrant characters and some of the best human-based Pixar animation to date.  It is an incredibly fast-paced film that is perfect for young audiences, yet manages to pack a heavy set of gender reconsiderations into its world in the process.  While it is by no means a superior film to Frankenweenie, I can better understand now, after viewing, why this film has received such rave reviews, and, ultimately, and Oscar.

Brave focuses on the young life of Merida (Kelly MacDonald) a princess, in a Scottish clan whose love for archery and living in the outdoors has emerged directly from the tutelage of her father Fergus (Billy Connolly) a king whose leg was lost defending his family and clan from a deathly bear attack.  This emphasis on athleticism and outdoor activities is much maligned by her mother Elinor (Emma Thompson) who hopes that Merida will willingly align herself with history and give her hand to a suitor from a nearby clan as a means of assuring peace in the area.  While Fergus is quite lacking in his support of such a decision, he does realize its necessity to assure clan peace, therefore, falling in line with Elinor when she forces Merida to follow the orders and give her hand to who ever wins a contest. Even after Merida attempts to win her own hand in the competition, the fact proves that she must still get married.  In a last ditch moment of frustration,  Merida visits The Witch (Julie Walters) who agrees to provide Merida with an escape in exchange for a metal amulet.   The spell takes the form of a cake that Elinor is to eat, Merida thinking it will only cause her mother to change her mind gives it to her in excitement, yet when Elinor becomes sick almost immediately after consuming the food things take a serious turn.  The spell Merida has obtained causes her mother to change, not her mind, but physical form into that of a bear, of course, leading to her immediate danger when Fergus senses the presence of a bear within his castle.  Escaping from the castle with just enough time to spare, Merida and her mother seek The Witch to alter the spell, but she is nowhere to be found, instead leaving a riddle as to how to reverse the spell, before her mother becomes like Mor'duu another person whose selfish desires led him to being turned into a bear.  Yet, the persistent chase of Fergus leads to a showdown in a stonehenge-like battlefield, where Merida brings a fixed tapestry that she had damaged earlier in frustration against her mother.  Realizing the seriousness of the matter, Fergus steps back and, with Merida in tears, Elinor finally becomes a human again, the family reunited and the clans at ease.  The narrative ends with Merida embracing her role as princess, but with the full knowledge that she can choose to marry, or not to, at her own convenience.

While I am fully aware that it is not a particularly radical film in its portrayal of unconventional gender roles, Brave, as a piece of animated film, could have been much more heteronormative and still probably made a ton at the box office.  However, the deliberate choice, on the part of the collective of directors and writers to make Merida her own individual, even in the closing moments of the film is quite a powerful thing.  The film is about choosing a lifestyle that is both comforting and rewarding, as opposed to preordained and mandatory.  Merida loathes the idea of feminine beauty and constant beauty regiments, emphasized by her unkempt hair and her disdain when it is trapped within a headdress.  Elinor does not seem so opposed to Merida's personal pleasures and enjoyments because she assumes that it is unnatural or playing against her gender, but because she is fully aware of the political consequences of her daughters choice not to act the part.  It is a larger commentary on institutionalization, internalization and fear of working against an unrealistic notion of the ideal.  In fact, I would not even suggest that this film outright rejects femininity, because, after all, it is Merida's fixing of a tapestry that allows her mother to return to human form.  I am not suggesting that now, textile and tapestry work is uniquely feminine, but within the historical context of the film that would have certainly been the case, therefore, the narrative seems to open up its necessity.  With both commentaries existing against one another it seems to be a film that draws out the necessity of possessing both masculine and feminine qualities, without being forced to exist within one spectrum at one time.  Furthermore, Merida's existence by herself in the films closing moments say that gender is not predicated on finding an other to fifth the dichotomy, but can certainly be its own stand alone element and should be entirely the choice of the individual in question.

Key Scene:  The archery contest is fun and hearkens back to the old Robin Hood films of the thirties.

This is not a film I feel is absolutely worth owning, however, it is quite enjoyable and certainly worth renting.

This Guy Took My Teddy Bear!: Ted (2012)

I remember distinctly a divide as far as reactions were concerned upon the discovery that Seth MacFarlane would be making his directorial debut in something not directly tied to the Family Guy franchise.  One side heralded it as a much needed movement towards the mainstream, although to be fair it is quite impossible to find an individual who has not watch an episode, let along entire seasons of one of the most prolific comedies of the past decade.  The other divide seemed content on dismissing it entirely referring to it as a cheap attempt by the director to cash in on his name and its ties to Family Guy while also engaging in his own filmic desires.  I am somewhat ashamed to admit that for a brief time I certainly fell into the latter category, having found myself growing away from Family Guy over the years and assumed Ted to simply not be for my palette.  However, I managed to catch up with MacFarlane when he hosted the season premier of Saturday Night Live and was completely enamored with the earnestness and vivacity placed into his skits and presence, furthermore, I was reminded that he is truly one of the greater comedic minds of the last decade, both in delivery and in accessibility.  While I have found myself attempting to rediscover Family Guy, at this point with little success, I did find Ted to be much, much more than I anticipated.  While I am one of the growing number of fans supporting the work of Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller as far as over-the-top absurdist comedy is concerned, I find myself watching the work of Harold Ramis and John Landis and wondering where the deceptively simple, normal guy in an unusual situation comedy went.  Thankfully, Ted has shown me that in the hands of Seth MacFarlane this type of comedy is certainly possible and, while he has a ways to go before getting to his level of perfection, MacFarlane is certifiably the closest thing American moviegoers have to a Harold Ramis...aside of course from the still living Harold Ramis, although to be fair it has been sometime since the comedic auteur has offered anything of notoriety.  Ted is far from a perfect film, but it easily falls on the side of being good and shows promise for a successful future for the still young MacFarlane.

Ted begins with the story of John Bennett (Mark Wahlberg) who has always been a slightly awkward person, so much so that he found considerable difficulties making friends as a child.  As such, when he receives a talking teddy bear from his parents for one Christmas, he makes a wish that it would come to life and be his friend forever.  Luckily for John, his wish is granted as a miracle of sorts and he awakes to his bear named Ted (Seth MacFarlane) talking and moving around.  Once verifying that he is not imagining it, John shares his new friend with the world. allowing to become an overnight sensation, which of course comes with its own set of problems leading to run-ins with law enforcement and a fall from popularity, although all along the way he makes sure to stay a dear friend to John.  Fast forward a few decades and John finds himself in a dead-end job, preferring to get high with Ted on a daily basis, as opposed to securing a promising future for himself and his girlfriend Lori (Mila Kunis).  Giving him an ultimatum, John is forced to choose a future with Lori over a comforting present with Ted, causing the disheartened bear to move out on his own and take up a job at a local grocery store, eventually creating his own relationship with an employee.  Yet, certain elements of his past are harder to shake and John continues to sneak away from work and events with Lori to hang out with Ted, leading to an accident in which Lori demands that John move out, much to the delight of Lori's asshole boss Rex (Joel McHale) who has been eyeing Lori for sometime.  John goes out of his way to win Lori back, partially from his own will, but also because Ted promises Lori that he will remove himself entirely from the couple's life if she gives John one more shot.  In the process of agreeing to this, Ted is kidnapped by a psychotic admirer and his son who has an apparent penchant for destructive behavior, leading to Ted reaching out to John despite his previous promise.  Lori in a moment of instantaneous understanding and compassion agrees to help John find Ted, leading to a crazy traversing of Fenway Park.  They eventually save Ted, although he is torn in half in the process, leading to a hopeful repair and a wish from somebody besides John for Ted return.  The film ends on a happy note as Ted returns comfortably back into John's life, while John is also able to mature and marry Lori in the process.

Buried deep beneath the profusely graphic excrement humor and jokes about old people being anti-semetic lies a very real commentary on the troubles of growing old and embracing adulthood that seem all too relevant to Seth MacFarlane, a comedian who is often criticized for being immature almost entirely as a result of his attachment to Family Guy, although I learned during Barbara Walter's "Most Fascinating People of 2012" that he began the show at 26, making him the youngest executive producer on a primetime show ever, a notable accomplishment for a person who is allegedly childish. Of course, Ted makes it very clear that there is a line to be drawn as to what is acceptable for a thirty year old man to be doing with his life and getting high, while making just over minimum wage at a rental car dealership is certainly not one of them, not to mention a problematic fear of thunderstorms that can only be placated by a talking bear.  Of course, in MacFarlane's infinite wisdom a complete disavowal of all these thing is not correct either, for a little light indulgence now and then along with a healthy attachment to one's childhood nostalgia can be a productive thing.  In fact, the narrative makes it rather clear what an unhealthy attachment to the past looks like via Ted's kidnapper who is a single dad who has allowed his son to become hyper-violent while living in his own grand delusion that allows him to dance to eighties mall pop music.  It is a very sound philosophical statement that exists within Ted one that reminds viewers of the very real responsibilities they must deal with on a daily basis, whether it be self-advancement or caring for the ones you love, while also not become so wound up with assuring everyones happiness that you ignore your own mental well being.  It also does not hurt that this film invests heavily in the possibilities of wishing for the unlikely.  A quick glance at MacFarlane's own struggles to get Family Guy on the air proves his own believe in having high ambitions.  Again the film is simple in its narrative, but it is in this muted approached to narrative that I hope MacFarlane is able to find comedic perfection.

Key Scene:  The party scene is pretty good and made all the funnier by some very self-referential humor on the part of MacFarlane.

This is a solid rental film and well worth checking out as it was easily one of the best comedies of last year.

The First Boy That Sees You Will Want To Marry You: Like Water For Chocolate (1992)

As part of a presentation I am working on I am reconsidering a set of Korean films for their commentary on eating disorders as a means to subvert gender norms and body politics within a contemporary discourse and while I know it is unlikely I am planning being asked about other ways in which food plays into a global narrative of gender and body politics, as such I am attempting to tackle a considerable amount of other films from global cinema which do deal heavily with food as a theme.  The first stop, as should be no surprise, is with the mesmerizing, sultry and sensational Mexican masterpiece Like Water For Chocolate, which has become an art house staple and cinematic treasure within the two decades following its initial release.  Mexican film certainly stands on its own two feet when it comes to an identity and culture, yet one would be really blind if they were to deny Like Water For Chocolate as a clear subscriber to two elements of traditional Spanish cinema, first being the heavy centering within the melodramatic tradition, perhaps the most important stylistic choice in Spanish film for the past century, as well as a clear consideration of magical realism which certainly occupies the space of the film, although it is certainly not as overbearing or present as other films from the country and certainly not on the level of some of the works drawing from Marquez or Lorca.  I popped in a considerably older version of the DVD which is not the greatest of quality and clearly one of the lesser transfers of the film, however, it is easy to pick up on the cinematic magic of the film and its exceptional style.  A film heavily influenced by sexuality and burgeoning desire, one quickly become intoxicated with the early twentieth century world actor-turned-director Alfonso Arau offers viewers.  Of course, one would be foolish to simply label Like Water For Chocolate as a pretty looking film with equally pretty people living within its its spaces, because its very direct gender commentaries and considerations of the spheres occupied by those genders is clearly at the forefront of the film.  It is no surprise that this film seems to grow a larger appreciation as years pass, because it is leaps ahead of its contemporary Belle Epoque a film I enjoyed, but am in no way enamored with, something I can certainly say about Like Water For Chocolate.

Like Water For Chocolate focuses primarily on Tita (Lumi Cavazos) a ethereal young woman who has been burdened with the unfortunate task of watching her mother, considering that she is the youngest daughter and tradition requires that she do so.  Yet, as the narrator of the film, one of Tita's sisters granddaughters, explains she was born with such striking features that the first man to lay eyes on her would undoubtedly fall for her, and this proves to be the case when she meets Pedro (Marco Leonardi).  Yet, Tita's mother Elena (Regina Torne) expressly forbids Tita from getting married, reminding Pedro that she is to take care of her until she passes, suggesting that the young man marries her other daughter Rosaura (Yareli Arizmendi) instead, something that Pedro agrees to do, realizing that it will still afford him an opportunity to see the woman he loves and eventually create a life with her.  Of course, as any good narrative proves, even the best laid plans come with obstacles, despite Pedro doing his best to put off intercourse with Rosaura it eventually happens and a child is born as a result, although, poor health on the part of Rosaura leads to Tita becoming the primary caretaker for the young man, much to Pedro's elation.  All the while, Tita comes to the realization that something about the cooking skills she as acquired from her late grandmother allow her to control the physical reactions of the world around her, using them, in fact, to ruin the festivities fo Rosaura and Pedro's wedding, as well as causing Rosaura to  become overweight and unsightly, completely destroying her desirability to her husband, who already has eyes for Tita.  All the while, Elena condemns Tita's every action and even when she dies her spirit returns to curse the young woman, resulting in fires literally occurring every time Tita and Pedro engage in physical intimacy. In the end, the passion of the two lovers proves to intense and Tita sacrifices them both to a fire, in order, to preserve the sanctity of everyone else in her lineage, although her history is clearly passed down through her cookbook, as the films closing moments suggest.

It is the lineage through food that sets the discussion up concerning femininity within the context of Like Water For Chocolate.  A film full of female interactions, it is both progressive and backwards moving in its execution.  Clearly the film embraces the power of matriarchal rule, creating a clear distinction between the power of Elena and pretty much every figure within the film.  Even Tita's sister Gertrudis (Claudette Maille) manages to take control of a small militia and become a rather uncommon female solider.  However, it is not easy to over look the oppressive acts occurring on the part of Gertrudis to her soldiers and much more blatantly in the relationship between Elena and Tita.  In fact, if one were to draw upon a feminist identity within the film it would seemingly be within the hands of Tita who is oppressed for a majority of the narrative and simply desires to engage in and express her own condemned and disapproved form of love, yet her jealousy and divisive engagements with other members of her family, who are invariably of the same sex means that these actions are to be questioned and to a considerable degree exist within the same oppressive realm of her mother.  Furthermore, little mention is given to the identities of the families various servants, including the main maid who is only used as a almost mammy figure after the loss of the families grandmother.  It is interesting that the feminine bonds disappear after the disappearance of the grandmother, because I would certainly argue that she proves to be the most egalitarian and progressive character in the entire film, despite fitting the description, on paper, of a person who would cling to conservative values.  The time period of this film reminds viewers that women's issues were prescient and to engage in conniving acts of back-stabbing is a decidedly internalized version of patriarchal oppression.  I know I ramble and make some rather unusual connections, it is not to undermine the very pro-feminine nature of Like Water For Chocolate, as it does end suggesting that descendants will undertake a new idea of femininity detached from distrust and jealously, yet the narrative is so heavily invested in these elements that it cannot, and clearly should not, be ignored.

Key Scene:  A scene involving quail and rose petal in its drawn out and grander execution is perfected magical realism if I have ever encountered it and boy does it scream cinematic brilliance.

Buy a copy of this film (no bluray as of yet), it is a must own and a definitive film from the Spanish speaking realm of global cinema.

Beau-ti-ful: Air Doll (2009)

Air Doll is a film destined to be something I thoroughly enjoy.  First, it was directed by Hirokazu Koreeda, whose film Still Walking received a more than favorable review and heavy admiration for its clear admiration for the late Ozu.  Secondly, the film focuses on issues of body and gender as it relates to East Asian cinema, a personal and well-vested research interest of mine.  Finally, if those two things were not enough, the film also includes the amazing Doona Bae, whose performance in Cloud Atlas was among one of the many enjoyable portions of the film.  Of course, a set of favorable things in my favor does not necessarily mean that it will equate to a good movie for other people every time, however, in the case of Air Doll, I think its cinematic leanings, Westernized cultural references and somewhat melodramatic soundtrack lend well to most film palettes, not to mention it involves artificial intelligence, allowing for even the most strict of sci-fi enthusiasts to find something to love in the film.  While the critics who claim the film to be a bit lengthy in its execution certainly have a right to do so, I cannot help but defend its drawn out nature as a necessity in regards to Koreeda's clear desire to promote the issues of human suffering and loneliness as realized through a being whose just come to terms with their own realization that they have emotions.  Hell, I would go so far as to describe Air Doll as a work influenced heavily by the ideas and writings of Albert Camus, although if said ideas were to be incorporated in to a Phillip K. Dick world.  Rarely do I ever possess a desire to go out of my way to read manga, although I probably should begin considering it since it does have ties to my research intestates, I really cannot deny my desire to read the graphic text on which Air Doll was based, because it is such a decidedly philosophical film that I cannot help but consider the ways in which the novel either intensifies or overlooks these reflections.  With is existential woes and considerable understanding of generational issues within contemporary Japanese culture, both in this film and Still Walking, I have began to actively seek out this directors other works as I can only hope they are filled with and equal degree of vigor and poetic earnestness.

Air Doll begins with the introduction of Hideo (Itsuji Itao) a middle-aged man working in a clearly draining and financially unrewarding job, taking solace only in his ability to come home and enjoy intercourse with a blow-up sex doll named Nozomi (Doona Bae), leaving the next day to return to his job of under-appreciation.  It is during his leave from the home that Nozomi begins to come to life as an almost spectral essence, one with a human form, but an opaque shadow.  Having only the realization that she has a heart, Nozomi attempts to navigate the world of urban Japan mimicking the actions of those she sees around her, whether it be an older woman bowing around various businesses or a girl singing a children's song.  Nozomi's curiosity with the world around her is so real and engaging that she actually finds herself successfully landing a job in a video rental store, all within the time frame of her owner being at work, thus being completely oblivious to her changed form.  As the days grow and Nozomi learns better how to navigate the world she is able to express emotions and intelligent conversations to the world around her, whether it be an old man reading poetry at a park bench, or with Junichi (Arata) whom she begins a relationship with, one which allows her to experience young love as well as continuing her curiosity with the world around her, taking particular notice of a young girl being sang "Happy Birthday."  Yet when she falls during work and accidentally punctures herself, it is revealed to Junichi that she is an air doll, something he reacts to by willingly filling her back up with air, in a noticeably sexual manner.  After this accident, Nozomi becomes considerably connected with the lonely individuals around urban Japan, sharing their sadness, as well as coming to terms with Hideo's own loneliness.  She eventually seeks to end her life by releasing her air, after talking with another woman and claiming that she did briefly find happiness in her moments of emotion.  Although it is implied that her sacrifice is witnessed by another woman who draws on its serenity to change their own life and seek out moments of beauty for herself.

Air Doll could be read as many things, an existential reflection on modernity and loneliness, a warning for our seeming willingness to attach emotional outpourings to artificial intelligence, or even a demand of its viewers to appreciate fleeting moments of beauty in a world of continued tragedy.  These are all very real themes within the film and certainly worth intense expansion, however, I cannot help but consider the feminist awakening considered within Koreeda's film, whether accidental or on purpose.  At the films onset, Nozomi is a body objectified, an issue faced by women for centuries, and still problematically confronted today, it is not until she realizes that she is capable of being a emotive and rational being that can seek her own desires that she comes to life.  This life could be read as a socio/political/economic awakening as a metaphor for women in contemporary East Asian cultures where they are still objectified within traditionalism.  As such, it is no accident that she seeks employment at a video store that draws heavily from Western culture, a means of inspiration on a very large level for non-Western feminist rhetoric, although they are beginning to create their own feminist voices and identities completely influenced by non-Western histories and philosophies.  Nonetheless, Nozomi's awakening allows her to move out of the domestic space and create her own sexuality, one that is awakened when she is "blown back up" by Junichi which could easily be read as Nozomi having her first orgasm and realizing that she too is capable of sexual gratification.  In regards to sexuality, it is no accident that the tube to represent Nozomi's vagina is constantly being cleaned both by herself and by Hideo, showing a far larger concern for the female sexual body than medicine tends to do so even in contemporary heath and body discourses.  Finally, her death at the end of the film suggests a feminist martyrdom, no different than Dreyer's Passion of Joan of Arc, one that pushes another woman to seek beauty outside of a domestic space, a veritable call to action which will hopefully open the eyes of a handful of other oppressed persons as well.

Key Scene:  There is a scene where humanized Nozomi is pretending to be a doll while Hideo lays beside her and watches TV, in which Doona Bae delivers the robotic movements of a doll, while also expressing a look of entrapment that is acting beyond perfection.

This pseudo-adaptation of The Little Mermaid is a must-own piece of cinema, and while it is a bit pricey the DVD transfer is gorgeous.

I'm Made Of Wax Larry. What Are You Made Of?: Night At The Museum (2006)

Sometimes a middle of the road, uncomplicated family friendly movie is exactly what a person needs to distract them from the very real and work heavy semester they will undertake in graduate school.  At least, this is what the Ben Stiller vehicle Night at the Museum provided for me last night as I attempted to forget about the fact that I will have very little free time until at least the end of April.  I will admit that I would never have given this family feature any credence, were it not yet another discovery as a result of buying DVD lots and being afforded copies of films that I had otherwise dismissed.  Of course, Night at the Museum was not a revelation in the same way some of the other films within this method of obtaining have proven to be, but that should not mean that I found it to be terrible.  For a feature focusing on one man's attempt to, on a cursory level, maintain the magical world of a museum coming to life at night, and proving his worth to a doubting son on a deeper level, it is really hard to think terribly about this film.  In fact, Night at the Museum gets its message out, leaves viewers happy with some decent special effects and certainly has enough cameos to make a viewer of any age ecstatic.  Furthermore, while I am wary to give Ben Stiller complete, unadulterated praise (despite adoring Tropic Thunder) it is hard not to love his commitment to such an absurd plot, so much so that you can believe him both as a man struggling to maintain his paternal identity, as well as a befuddled night guard placed in an absolutely incomprehensible level.  One cannot help but consider the possibilities of this notably star-studded film had the producers considered providing even a bit more time with the work, as opposed to clearly creating it as a quick money grabber, suitable for a handful of straight-to-DVD spinoffs.  Night at the Museum could have been a far greater and respectable film, but at the same time it could have been way worse and probably still made a considerable amount of money, it deserves acknowledgement at the very least and maybe even an earnest viewing cinephiles with even the most discerning of tastes.

Night at the Museum focuses on the constantly changing life of Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) a single dad living in New York, while attempting to make his various "big ideas" translate into money with little or no success, much to the disappointment of his ex-wife and son Nick (Jake Cherry) who is proving to take a liking to his mom's new husband and successful Wall Street broker Don (Paul Rudd).  Desperate to make a respectable living and assure his ability to stay close to his son, Larry agrees to take a job at a museum on the night shift, even though he has been warned of the headache that will invariably ensue with the notably odd job.  While the former employees seem quick to pass the torch to Larry, he, nonetheless, sees the work as a means to make money for doing next to nothing, however, during his first night on the job he realizes that working at this particular museum may be a bit more complicated than he initially assumed, especially since everything in the place comes to life thanks to an ancient Egyptian rune that adorns the wall above a sarcophagus.  Assuming it to be a bizarre hallucination it is not until Larry is confronted by the museum manager about some figurines being out of place that he realizes it is, in fact, something much more complex.  When it is revealed that the rune causing this magic to occur is of high value and sought after by a set of thieves with close ties to the museum, not to mention the threat by the director of Larry losing his job if he is to find another thing out of place, Larry plans a means to properly maintain the wily world of the museum.  This of course involves the help of his skeptical son and the eventual aid of one of the museums curators, for whom Larry has taken a liking.  It is through his ability to acknowledge history, as well as the promotion of unity amongst the disparate and famously jarring identities within the museum that Larry is eventually able to save his job, as well as the magic of the museum.  More importantly, Larry is able to gain the much desire respect of his son and assure their future together.

It seems a bit foolish for me to dig too heavily into the commentary within the film, but to ignore the notion of history within Night at the Museum would be equally foolish in my book, particularly its clear promotion of studying it in order to better understand one's own relationship with the world around them.  For Larry this has a very literal sense, in that he is forced to learn the ways of Mongolians, warring Romans and rambunctious cowboys, in order to maintain the museum from delving into complete chaos, not to mention learning the ways of a variety of animals as to assure that they do not maim one another.  This learning, while narratively manifesting itself with his relationship to the museum, nonetheless, reflects his own evolution, particularly considering that he is depicted as a spineless, self-loathing individual, emphasized by a poster in an elevator, as well as his own inability to get a job, or blame inventive competitors for his failures.  It is not until Larry gains knowledge that he is better able to navigate between his past failures and the promises of his future, going so far as to defy historically powerful figures like Attila the Hun, as well as deal with the tiny revolutions in his world, brilliantly visualized through the cowboys and Romans.  These tiny figures serve as an exceptional metaphor because in the films earlier portions it is clear that Larry is allowing for a series of small inconveniences and missteps to completely navigate his life.  Furthermore, it is no coincidence that when he learns to harness the power of a T-Rex and break a few members of the museum from glass freedom, or even tame an entire menagerie of animals that he finally asserts a self-esteem and authority that gains him respect from his colleagues, as well as his son.  Sure the antics of Larry taming the zoo have a great cinematic appeal, however, one must consider how these elements exist as a reflection of his life, as it is attached from the museum.

Key Scene:  Robin Williams is Teddy Roosevelt is Robin Williams...enough said.

Rent this film, by all means it is not close to worth owning, but who knows if you are in a bad mood or need to relieve some stress it is well worth affording a few hours towards.

Straight Lick With A Crooked Stick: The Skeleton Key (2005)

Often movies fail to obtain a viewership worth any credibility, usually resulting in their being relegated to lesser value and they become buried within the discount bin at a variety of retailers.  Often this is a result of terrible advertising on the part of producers, a wrong label in terms of is genre category or simply not coming out at the proper time.  This seems to be a combination of factors when related The Skeleton Key, a film even I had dismissed, passing off a copy to by trade-in pile with little concern for every viewing it.  Thankfully, a glance at my stack of soon to be dismissed DVD's spurred my girlfriend to suggest revisiting the film as she thought I might enjoy it, despite my verbal dismissal.  Reluctantly I popped this film into the DVD player and within five minutes the sweeping cinematography and thriller oriented narrative had captured me and I found myself longing for more of this criminally underrated film.  The performances are spectacular and the story is somewhat predictable but, nonetheless, quite intense...also it does not hurt that the film is set in New Orleans, which for all intensive purposes may well lend to being of the creepiest places visually.  Think back to my discussion of Easy Rider and the drug trip sequence...this, of course, was filmed in the catacombs of New Orleans.  The film also manages to properly and earnestly incorporate voodoo and hoodoo into its narrative, which is easily one of the most obtuse, yet surprisingly ubiquitous religious/magical practices in the Western world.  Furthermore, The Skeleton Key does not shy away from a metaphor or two within its narrative, drawing clear ties and connections between notions of past oppressions and lingering cultural consciousness.  This film delicately walks the line between being a flat out horror film and an expertly crafted thriller, never giving way to definitions of either.  In a year that witnessed works like Howl's Moving Castle and Cache relegated to lesser than something like Crash or Batman Begins, it is pertinent to revisit 2005 works and The Skeleton Key is perhaps a great place to start, because it is truly a work deserving repeated mention.

The Skeleton Key begins by introducing viewers to Caroline Ellis (Kate Hudson) an overly zealous nurse in a retirement home, known for her close attachment to the aging patients, often sitting with them during their last moments.  After a realization that the retirement home does nothing more than treat their patients like customers, constantly trying to fill beds, as opposed to help their comfort, Caroline leave the job and applies to work in hospice at a house located on a remote portion of the bayou.  Despite the worries of her friend, Caroline sees this as an opportunity to properly help people, while also keeping hours more appropriate for her finishing her Nursing degree.  Also, it is revealed that Caroline had a problematic relationship with her late father, adding a layer of guilt to her wanting to help the elderly, particularly men, in their last days.  Upon meeting the man she will help Ben Devereaux (John Hurt) and his wife Violet (Gena Rowlands) it is quite clear that their house does not exist on a earthly temporal plane and appears to be possessed by something otherwordly.  Yet, at the pleading of Luke Marshall (Peter Sarsgaard), the Devereaux's attorney, Caroline agrees to stay.  It is only a matter of hours into staying there that Caroline realizes she is engaged in something very intense, specifically upon discovering a room full of voodoo materials and a recording of a chant, which is apparently related to transferring the soul of one person into a younger body to assure their continued existence.  Things fall apart around the Devereaux estate and Caroline becomes more paranoid, planning to save Ben from the house after it becomes apparent that he desperately wants to leave.  All the while the history of the house unfolds around Caroline in what reflects a history of brutality and darkness, resulting in a change of identity that becomes the point of centrality for the entire narrative, as such I will not spoil this here, suffice to say Caroline survives...to some degree.

The film clearly has a cultural commentary about it, one centered on racial tensions and past injustices, it is no coincidence that the film finds its narrative entrenched in New Orleans, perhaps one of the most intersected populations in The United States.  While the film is, on the surface level, concerned with notions of possession and hoodoo magical practices, a larger issue of cultural memory and acknowledgements of brutal pasts overarch the film.  It is no coincidence that the original procurers of the spell to transfer bodies were two assumedly former slaves, who were working as servants in the Devereaux household.  An incredibly violent scene of their lynching and burning after being caught showing the children hoodoo, suggests a larger narrative of Southern memories of racial violence.  Thus the failures of all characters to acknowledge these past injustices, lead to their cyclical involvement with the problematic possession.  The spectral force serves as a metaphor for passing on memories of injustice and oppression.  It proves difficult to possess or get Caroline to believe in hoodoo, not because she is susceptible to superstition, but because she refuses to play into the ignorant bliss of an idyllic Southern past, one invariably predicated on slavery.  Thus the presence of a spectral force transplanted via two black servants is intended to keep the tragedies of the past alive, because ignoring them allows for someone like Violet to continue in her racist ways, possessed or not.  It is when Caroline begins ignoring her own acts to sever racist ties to the past that she becomes open to the hoodoo, another layer of metaphor thus emerging, and if it is not all sinking in at this point keep in mind that the male servants name was Father Justify...a bit of an on the nose reference to retribution.

Key Scene:  When Violet initially explains the history of the house to Caroline, the film then cuts to a past which combines color and black and white imagery along with a slew of frame altering after effects, that make for one of the film most intense scenes, both in terms of what is being shown, as well as in how it is shown.

This is a film worth obtaining, it is super cheap.  I have a DVD copy, but plan to upgrade to Bluray as it is a truly spectacular film.

The Truth Is, We're All Fighting For Salvation: George Washington (2000)

My recent review of Beasts of the Southern Wild heralded it as something so uniquely its own that I praised it incessantly suggesting that it was indicative of something new in filmmaking.  While I still thoroughly enjoyed that work and still think it reflects a grand change in independent cinema, I had never had the great pleasure of viewing George Washington, a directorial debut by David Gordon Green, whose, unfortunate, movement into stoner comedies has led me to never look into his ouevre.  However, George Washington sat as one of the early works I desired from the Criterion Collection and thanks to a recent subscription to HuluPlus I was able to watch this poetic film.  As for critical opinions there seem to be two fields of thought towards this film, the first suggests that it is a prententious exploitative film that borrows far to heavily from the playbook of Terrence Malick to be considered artistic and a second group who finds the cinematography, storyline and sheer atmospheric magic of this film to be indicative of rural southern life during its movement into a new millennium.  I am firmly within the latter grouping and found George Washington to be an exceptionally beautiful film about coming-of-age in a world of absurdisms, one that causes an individual to have a magical realist outlook towards the world, while also dealing with some intensely real issues.  The images in this film melt off the screen, at times literally peeling away and flow so smoothly despite changing subject matter that the comparisons to Malick are obvious, yet to suggest that this film rips his work off is to both discredit Malick and to misunderstand Green's film.  There are things such as the breaking on the filmic space by causing the image to distort that do not fit within the stylings of Malick, while the poetics and free floating narration of the film are clearly similar.  Yet, where Malick seems to go further into pondering, Green finds answers in the present, all be it ones equally ambiguous.  Furthermore, there exists an underlying humor to George Washington that is currently extinct within the work of Malick, but from what I understand he is to be making a comedy in the coming year...so that could all change.  Regardless, George Washington is a thing of beauty and incredibly visceral, yet understated.  You may have seen moments of this film elsewhere, but its collective offering is purely its own.

George Washington centers around everything but the first president of The United States, and while the main characters name is indeed George (Donald Holden) nothing else about him is presidential, of course this is 2000 well before the election of Barack Obama.  George is a young African-American boy who lives with his fiery-tempered uncle and subdued mother, and voyages around his rural Southern town wearing a football helmet, because of a rare skull condition that makes heavy contact and wetness detrimental to his survival.  His friends include the wise-cracking Buddy (Curtis Cotton III), who has an unusual penchant for wearing a velociraptor mask, Buddy's off and on girlfriend Nasia (Candace Evanofski) and Vernon (Damian Jewan Lee) a large boy who uses his authoritative figure in very few situations.  Aside from the young groups explorations and pontifications we are also provide a semi-regular glimpse into the some of the lives of working class young adults in the community, focusing specifically on Rico (Paul Schneider) who is often seen engaging in conversations with the youth.  The life they young people lead is not particularly easy and constant references to their lower-class living pop up throughout the film and, as such, their adventures often lead them to unusual places whether it be conversations in the pews of churches or the recitation of Shakespeare in a dilapidated community recreational hall.  One of these unusual encounters occurs in a bathroom, in which, George furious at Buddy for knocking him into the wall, pushes Buddy back, ultimately, causing him to slip on some water and bust his head open, an accident that proves fatal.  Panicking the group attempts to hide the body of Buddy in an abandoned house outside of town, only for George to feel guilty and eventually place the body in the river to be later discovered.  While the group never confess to their accidental murder, Vernon, along with a young girl named Sonya (Rachael Handy), who was also present at Buddy's death attempt to steal a car and escape from the city, with terrible results.  On the other hand, George attempts to counter his actions by going out of his way to save lives, donning a wrestling leotard, cape and his helmet he becomes a super hero in his mind.

George Washington manages to catch so many social reflections and philosophical inquiries within what appears to be a rather limited narrative net.  We as viewers are asked to ponder both the state of social equity as it relates to class, race, gender and even regional difference, but most importantly what role one's age has on their ability to confront the tragedies of the world, both affecting them and their loved ones.  George's room is by no accident adorned with a photograph of a smiling George H.W. Bush who appears to linger over his every reflection and action.  As is now well known, Bush, and his successor, failed to properly provide concern for the southern rural poor, despite playing heavily on this identity to earn votes.  By extension, however, George learns of these oppressions by not experience them himself, but seeing them through the pain and suffering of his psychologically troubled uncle, brilliantly named Damascus (Eddie Rouse).  Even George's interactions with Rico problematize notions of oppression, because while Rico is certainly quite open-minded in his race relations, even dating a black girl during the film, his progressive ideals do not necessarily reflect that of his entire town.  When George saves the life of a young white boy, the mother comes to thank George personally, and it is impossible to ignore her trepidation as she approaches the house that to her clearly houses the other.  Yet these elements of the film are entrenched within the eyes of the youth who are its subject, death, poverty and racism are not facts to them, but moments of uncertainty that are better explained by notions of fantasy and humor than grounded reason.  It is perhaps Nasia's professing on challenging god or Buddy's brilliant dinosaur Shakespeare monologue that manage to show that not all their ignorance is unintentional, instead; they choose when to ignore tragedy in life, as some awful things simply must not be acknowledged because no amount of explanation and maturity can justify their existence.

Key Scene:  The film has many, but I will constantly remember the one of Buddy quoting Shakespeare in a velociraptor mask.  It is forever burned into my memory, quite welcomely I do admit.

I watched this on Hulu and while it was a great introduction I cannot wait to purchase a copy and neither should you.

Everybody Loses The Thing That Made Them: Beasts Of The Southern Wild (2012)

If this spectacular indie film is any evidence as to how the rest of 2012 will shape up in regards to film, I am ecstatic.  Easily the best film I have seen this year, Beasts of the Southern Wild is an emotive ride through a rather unconventional world, complete with moments of genuine sweetness and biting reality.    At no point in this film do you feel as though you are losing out on quality and, if anything you feel as though the movie ends far too soon.  Relying heavily on handheld cinematography and gritty imagery, this is a cinematic pseudo-anthropological study of persons residing in a world that has literally been taken off the map.  Vehemently opposed to traditions of filmmaking, Benh Zeitlin creates a world that is inhabited by those often deemed voiceless or inconsequential in film narratives.  Each character is in someway a victim of a societal oppression, whether it be gender, class, race or most importantly place of residence.  Beasts of the Southern Wild is a film about humanity in the grandest of terms that plays out with poetic magnitude and pertinent social commentary.  Furthermore, and perhaps most astonishing is the films focus on a child actor, often a risk, Zeitlin's directing and the films sincere quality help make a tricky method explode brilliantly off the screen.

The story of Beasts of the Southern Wild is the story of Hushpuppy (Quvenzhane Wallis) a young girl who lives in a flooded portion of Mississippi with the eponymous name of  The Bath.  She lives in an incredibly rural world, ruled by bartering and communal help, having only the guidance of her temper-fueled father Wink (Dwight Henry) and the random advice of her school teacher Miss Bathsheba (Gina Montana).  Told through Hushpuppy's point of view, we are shown a young woman struggling with a detachment from her mother at a very young age and a father who is slowly falling apart as a result of heart disease.  These very real problems are paralleled with Hushpuppy's visions of beasts from days of yore rising from the melting snow caps to come prey upon her and her insecurities, something she says they can sense from miles away.  While the films begins in a light-hearted manner, the realities of living off the grid begin to interfere, as Hushpuppy and her community become the point of forced intervention by health outreach programs who see their lifestyle as not only primitive, but dangerous, particularly their living in a world that is constantly threatened by flooding.  Eventually being evicted by government agents, Hushpuppy has a taste of the "civilized" world something that bothers her to such a degree that she sets out to find her mother.  After swimming a great distance she ends up in a floating dance hall/brothel where a woman who very much matches the descriptions of her father's memories.  Sharing fried gator with her she attempts to make her realize she is her daughter, however, the woman leaves without acknowledging this fact, resulting in Hushpuppy returning to the island, with the food in tow, just in time to give it to her father before he dies, resulting in one of the films most heart-wrenching scenes.  The film closes with Hushpuppy spouting words of affirmation to her life up to this point, as she leads the residents of The Bath on a march down the road, in what we as viewers can assume is their dire future, however, no fear exists on the face of this girl who has grown years in the matter of a few days.

Beasts of the Southern Wild is perhaps the most well-executed film bildungsroman since The 400 Blows, particularly in that it manages to transcend the traditional formative youth experiences in favor of something far grander philosophically speaking.  Of course, Hushpuppy does go through the traditional formative moments, whether they be forced acknowledgement of her gender, or the inevitable realization of death and these are necessary to such a narrative.  However, I would posit that the experiences in this film are far more complex and reflective than most films about children, excluding the previously mentioned Truffaut film of course.  I mean to say that Hushpuppy has a few moments of internal reflection that would cause the Buddha to be proud, most notably her acknowledgement that she is a small puzzle piece in a big puzzle, something that is simply explained but difficulty realized.  Furthermore, she comes into contact with her power as an individual when spiteful, in one scene she strikes her father in the chest out of frustration, causing his heart problems to reemerge.  She realizes in this moment that her anger out outlashes can have very serious consequences.  Furthermore, she encounters her mother, or someone similar, an experience which causes her to reflect on the value placed on a woman who, ultimately, left her alone.  This realization inspires courage and self-determination within Hushpuppy, something that allows her to stand face-to-face with the beasts that she so greatly feared, affirming her role as a leader to future generations.

Key Scene:  The movie has far to many great moments to simply pick one.

This movie is emotive and realized.  Under no circumstance should you miss checking this out whether it be in theaters or on bluray it is to be viewed immediately.