We Must Always Be On Guard For The Mischievous Lip Drift: Bernie (2012)

I can only describe Bernie as one very specific thing and I realize how obscure it sounds even as I elaborate, but to me, one could only define this absurdist masterpiece as a Louvin Brothers song that has been put to film in an homage to the mockumentary stylings of Christopher Guest, while clearly taking heavy influence from the underlying social tensions of American Psycho.  Seriously, that is exactly what I felt while watching this film, which technically came out in 2011, but has not seen wide release until the past year or so, making it a contender during awards season, as well as proving to be one of the most overlooked works of the last year, in a very literal sense, considering that people did not simply watch it and dismiss it, but actually completely avoided it all together.  I am fully aware that he film contains two of the most off-putting actors in Hollywood, in Jack Black and Matthew McConaughey, but both are doing some excellent work in this film, particularly Black who goes against his garrulous and bombastic traditional role, for something much more reserved, but equally grandiose in its spectacle.  It is great to see Richard Linklater back in the game providing viewers with some really great work, quite reminiscent of his early films, Slacker in particular, wherein a society is clearly in a state of crumbling disillusion but can only manage to deal with such issues by either condemning those around them or living vicariously through those doing far better than themselves.  It is clear from the onset that viewers are to take Bernie lightly, the title cards intercut throughout the film, along with the incorporation of interviews by the townspeople manage to undermine any sort of legitimate commentary on the nature of deception and psychological breakdown, but as Linklater reminds viewers, on more than one occasion throughout the film, as much as one may mock the characters within the film, at the end of the day they are truly based off of real individuals making the humor become far less laughable and incredibly real, much like The Informant!, but with an even higher degree of scathing social criticism, directed wholly at the "heart of America."

Bernie, centers on the title character, played by Jack Black, who is a flamboyant, but well loved assistant funeral director in the small Texas town of Carthege.  While everyone is rather certain on the homosexuality of Bernie they do seem intent on claiming him to be one of the most standup guys they have ever met, and find him to be a true gift to the elderly community, particularly the older women who welcome his hospitality in a time of great sadness.  Bernie, in fact, takes a particular liking to one of the older women in the community, Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLaine) who is initially dismissive to the awkward advances of Bernie, but comes around after a few visits, realizing that he is indeed the only nice person in the entire town, never mind that Marjorie made a reputation as an incredibly mean individual turning down those who requested loans at the bank she ran in place of her late husband.  Things boil over for Bernie, when, after quitting his job at the funeral home and becoming solely dependent on Marjorie, he realizes that she is only using him as a chauffeur, caretaker and general servant with little care for his happiness, going so far as to openly chastise him for spending too much time with his two hobbies: flying and musical theater.  During one day at Marjorie's house, Bernie becomes incapable of starring at the old woman over-chewing her food any longer and shots her with a hunting rifle and subsequently stuffing her in a meat freezer.  The town goes on assuming that Marjorie is simply suffering from a bad stroke, yet when Marjorie's stock broker expects fowl play on the part of Bernie he manages to obtain a search warrant, where in they discover her body.  At this point Danny Buck Davidson (Matthew McConaughey) a Texas district attorney enters the picture with hopes of prosecuting the murder, yet when he realizes that even after Bernie openly admits to the crime, the townspeople still believe him to be innocent, leading to Danny moving the trial to another county, a rare occurrence, especially since the notion of a "fair trial" would hinder Bernie.  Within his new trial Bernie is found guilty and sent to jail, where he continues to receive visits from the people of Carthege who presume him innocent.

This movie is a scathing film, although its lightheartedness and concern for the opinions of the common person would lead many a viewer to assume otherwise.  Linklater, however, manages to even trick viewers into believing Bernie to be an incredibly likable guy.  In constructing the narrative in such a way the film causes one to consider what effect community involvement and outreach play into the judgement of a character.  Sure Bernie is a great role model within the church and goes out of his way to spend money on those less fortunate than himself, but the narrative constantly sneaks in reminders that he is not an entirely functional person and certainly exploits others when the situation proves beneficial, whether it be the sale of coffins, or the use of an aging woman's money to engage in lavish world travels.  Bernie's dandy veneer is always to be questioned, yet Linklater's incorporation of praiseful words by the townspeople make that difficult to do, not to mention how likable Black makes Bernie seem, nonetheless, he is quite capable of murder and deceit and certainly has no problem using devious tactics throughout the film.  Secondly, the film questions the notion of a "good and wholesome" middle America, one where nothing bad can happen and when it does it is clearly the result of muckraking by outside forces, in this case the folks of Carthege believe Danny Buck Davidson to be using his political aspirations to destroy a stand-up guy like Bernie, and while this may have a degree of validity, it is clear that Danny really does realize how disillusioned everyone in the town has become in relation to the town hero.  It is no accident that it is only through creating a cultural/social difference between Bernie and the common folk in the trial that Danny is able to secure a guilty verdict, by a simple question of what wine pairs best with fish.  The townspeople point to this moment in the trial as an assured moment of his demise, it made him certifiably different and therefore capable of fault.  Linklater seems to suggest that as long as an individual can obtain insider status within the "heart of America" they can get away with anything...even murder.  However, one cannot forget that Linklater is merely adapting a very real story, one that causes me to consider my understanding of human nature far more than I imagined I would upon initially viewings this superb dark satire.

Key Scene:  I laughed the entire time Jack Black sang "Love Lifted Me" in his car, and proceeded to laugh through the rest of the film, but his opening moment is so ridiculous that it is hard not to become entirely occupied in the narrative unfolding.

Another gem watchable on Netflix, do yourself a favor and watch this film, I can only assume that you will want to pass it along as did I, because it is in need of as many fans as possible.

It's About Time You Start Telling The Truth: Bubble (2005)

I am sure my love for the experimental in filmmaking has come through on more than one occasion here on the blog, just as my adoration for Steven Soderbergh's The Girlfriend Experience, however, I for some reason had managed to completely overlook his earlier work Bubble for quite some time, which is a minor tragedy because the film is incredibly profound and quite intense.  As Soderbergh often does, Bubble dances very eerily between the world of documentary non-fiction and cinematic fiction, considering that it is an artistic film that happens to incorporate everything one demarcates as being cinematically sound.  The film is at once both absurdist theatre and tragic reality, but exists in such a vacuum of immediacy that one finds the ending emerging while still trying to comprehend the films opening scenes.  It is hard not to quickly place a film like Bubble in with the works of Dogme 95, however, where this movement pushes towards conceptualizations of filmmaking over what is being said, Soderbergh simply enjoys making experiential pieces, in which what is being said, as well as how it is being said play equal parts in the manifestation of his often eccentric and dark social commentaries. Bubble is beautiful in its starkness and watchable in the far off possibility that something this bizarre could indeed occur.

Bubble centers on life in an unspecified American factory town, in which everyone is working class.  The narrative focuses specifically on Martha (Debbie Doebereiner) an overweight woman, who occasionally offers unwanted opinions to those around her between spraying eyes and lips onto dolls.  She serves as a chaffier and voluntary maternal figure to Kyle (Dustin James Ashley) a overworked young man who takes on the burden of a sick mother and the bills in what appears to be a single parent household.  Thingis in Martha and Kyle's world are not inspiring by any means and are, in fact, rather dull until the factory hires a new girl named Rose (Misty Wilkins) who instantly becomes the point of affection for Kyle, desite Martha's rather blatant misgivings.  Despite her concerns, Rose and Kyle go out on a date to a local bar, only for the two to return Kyle's place for a bit of chit-chat, all the while Martha has been stuck wathing Martha's kid from another relationship.  While returning it becomes clear that Rose is being followed by an ex-boyfriend who confronts he after Kyle's departure an act that occurs in front of Martha, who tries to put in her two cents before going home for the night.  The next day brings shock as it is discovered that Rose is dead.  All roads appear to lead to either Kyle, or Rose's pothead ex-boyfriend, however, as the filmmaker would have it, another character emerges in the last moments that completely undermine the entire set of assumptions

The honesty in Bubble is almost impossible to watch, whether it be the stagnant camera or the monotonous tones of the actors, everything in the film adds to the droning nature of the narrative.  Furthermore, a film that outright claims to be a crime story, spends a considerable amount of time focusing on the introduction and going-ons of the characters, particularly the inner-turmoil of Martha who is shown in church as well as engaged in longing gazes directed towards Kyle and his new female friend.  Soderbergh, in a moment of either accident or brilliance, incorporates images of working class identity has the characters continually drinking and eating from fast food chains, implying a general lack of physical health, which will in turn drastically affect mental health within the film's world.  Furthermore, the lines delivered clearly have a forcedness to them, but not in an obnoxious way, but in a manner to add validity to what is being said, considering that in the narratives of reality one is constantly at a loss for words.  This loss of voice is quite important to a film like Bubble in that so much of it is awkward pauses between characters, are real occurrence yet it rarely happens in a cinematic piece, even one with a decidedly indie or cinema veritae feel.  Not to mention this film does a lot with gender, religion and escapism as they relate to working class America.

Key Scene:  The moment with Martha in church is human tragedy on a poetic level.

Bubble, like many of the director's films, is currently on Netflix Watch Instantly and is well worth one's time to check out.  It is a complete reconceptualizing of crime thrillers and a success in "big-budget" experimental film.

I Can Control When It Grows: Big Man Japan (2007)

The monster movie is surely a staple of Japanese cinema, makings its glorious emergence with Godzilla.  Sure, King Kong came before and Cloverfield has proved successful, but nobody makes these hybrid horror/social drama's quite like Japan, and Hitoshi Matsumoto's Big Man Japan is certainly indicative of this.  Combining a mockumentary style with glorious CGI, the film becomes both a fun viewing and a contemplative film on the tragedies of aging in a society that values freshness and spontaneity.  Big Man Japan is neither a high-brow art house endeavor, nor is it a low culture schlockfest.  Instead, it is an earnest look at one man's struggle for meaning as he realizes the world around him is decaying and that all things he and those around him once valued have become consumed by media and its capitalist tendencies.  The film is certainly unique in its composition and questions what role viewers have in a situation and to what extent a filmmaker can claim poetic license when creating a work.  Having recently finished a book on Japanese cinema, it is interesting to consider that so much of the film is preoccupied with tradition, yet manages to undermine such things as frequently as possible.  Big Man Japan is so bizarrely different simply because it refuses to adhere to any singular definition.

Big Man Japan, in documentary format, follows Masaru Daisato, played by the director, a man who is better known as the title character.  His duty is to defend Japan from various monsters that appear at random throughout different cities.  Although he is always victorious, Masaru has become disliked by citizens for his continued destruction and decaying strength.  Persons in the community have gone so far as to throw rocks in his windows and vandalize his house in protest, particularly his consumption of electricity, which he uses to power up.  Masaru is clearly affected by such ridicule and is shown living a hermetic and desultory lifestyle far distanced from everyone, with the exception of his manager Kobori (Ua).  Kobori clearly has personal interests in mind considering that she uses Masaru's giant form as a means to advertise for various companies via tattoos, which are always colorful and counterproductive to intimidating Big Man Japan's foes.  His foes throughout the film range from a clearly Freudian one-eyed giant monster to a one-legged monster that jumps around like a child.  Masaru is even forced to fight two monsters that are far more concerned with intercourse than defeating him.  Things are going rather lackadaisically until a red demon monster randomly attacks Masaru causing viewers to take a new interest in his bouts.  Despite clearly having no interest in fighting this demon, Masaru ends up engaging in the fight and getting severely beaten.  At this point in the film, a screen is displayed that states that the film will now go to real footage of the bout, which is nothing of that nature and is more in line with low-budget monster shows that would be displayed on televisions in Japan.  Confused Masaru is saved by a group of costumed blonde fighters known collectively as Super Justice.  After the group obliterates the demon they fly away with Masaru in tow.  The film ends and the credits depict Masaru joining with Super Justice as they reflect on the fight, while ridiculing Masaru for his cowardly nature.

The film is loaded with a variety of commentaries and is ripe with possible criticisms; however, the most apparent upon this viewing was a focus on inner turmoil and a desire for redemption.  Masaru, as the film notes, comes from a long line of Big Man Japan's, he being the fourth in the lineage.  It is clear that he is nowhere near as loved as his grandfather and has no relationship with his father, considering that he died relatively young from electrocution.  It clearly plagues Masaru, as he repeats on countless times throughout the film that he longs for a return to simpler times in Japan, times in which he would be seen as heroic as opposed to being an outdated oaf.  In fact, Masaru's only friend appears to be an aging karaoke club owner, who seems only to love him out of pity.  Similarly, Masaru is dealing with being employed to a job that is considered wrongful in some individual's eyes.  What he does destory cities, but as he argues it is a necessity.  The turmoil caused by such a dilemma is clear and only further perpetuated by the fact that Masaru is scraping by and is by no means wealthy.  These things combined, help to explain the emergence of a demon within the narrative and to some extent some of the monsters he face, particularly the one that is nothing more than a small child.  Masaru is unable to defeat that red demon because he is ill-equipped to fight it.  Metaphorically speaking he is incapable of dealing with his own depression and thus his personal demons.  The film is clever in its answer to dealing with depression in that it provides us with an absurdist answer.  It is clear that Matsumoto understands that each persons turmoil must be dealt with differently and by ending the film in such a way only suggest the benefits of laughter.  At the end of the film, Masaru is shown engaged with people who at the very least tolerate him, something that was a far cry from his previous lifestyle.  It is clear too that the film promotes the necessity of a welcoming environment to a person and their stability.

Big Man Japan is extraordinary in every sense of the word.  If you even like Japanese film or monster films in the slightest, this is a necessary film to own. 

Rolling Paint Cans And Questions Of Human Nature: Close-Up (1990)

As I noted in my original post for this blog, I find cinema to reflect society in uncanny ways almost to the point that it is a clear refabrication of our own reality.  While many films do not do this in a semiotic sense, given their fantastical elements or historical distancing, some films manage to merge this line so perfectly that the boundaries of factual reality and fictive narrative become blurry, and this is certainly the case for Abbas Kiarostami’s cinematic tour de force Close-Up.  A hybrid between a documented account of a poor Iranian attempting to pass as a famous director and an imagined revisiting with the imposter some years later leads to something heartbreakingly real about the nature of forgiveness, guilt and self-identity in a politically disparate country that cares little for the impoverished and misdirected.  Despite being released in 1990, Close-Up has a timeless nature about it that makes it instantly accessible to even the most burgeoning of moviegoer, a notion that is only intensified by the stagnant, yet masterfully composed cinematography, which is delivered most eloquently in the quite lengthy shot of an aerosol can rolling down a hill.  It is easy to call the film thought provoking, but it is something much greater than that and is incredibly contemplative and philosophically engaging.

Close-up, as noted in the introduction, is about a case of identity fraud which occurred involving a man of rather low class impersonating the great Iranian director Mohsen Makhmalbaf.  The incident begins when the Hossain Sabzian lying to a woman about his identity while riding on a public bus.  Her suspicions are quickly dismissed as the elderly woman notices Hossain reading a copy of Mokhmalbaf’s screenplay for The Cyclist.  Hossain/Mohsen furthers his credibility by claiming that he rides on public transportation as a means to find material for his upcoming films.  Enthralled by the interest of such a respectable director, the old woman invites Hossain/Mohsen to return to her house and meet her family.  Over a length of time, Hossain/Mohsen continually visits the family and claims to be interested in using their home in his next film and at one point convinces the family to give him a large sum of money for his next project.  It is not until one of the young male members of the family discovers a article about Makhmalbaf receiving an award recently, that the man attempting to pass as the famous director is not, in fact, who he says to be, particularly considering that he is much older than the director looks in the picture.  The film intercuts these encounters with courtroom footage involving the family criticizing Hossain for his behaviors, although through long confessionals it becomes quite clear that Hossain is not in a great state mentally, considering after a large amount of evidence against him, he still claims to be the director.  The film closes with an encounter between a journalist friend of the suspicious family member and his imposter, in a gutwrenchingly real scene of fandom and obsession, which involves taking photos of the Hossain for an article outing his lies.  At this point, it seems like a great melding of fictive ideas and factual statements, but what makes Kiarostami’s film that much more brilliant is that the cast members throughout the film are indeed played by their real-life counterparts, merging the factual and fictional into a new level of uncertainty. 

It is this choice by Kiarostami to use the actual persons of the historic event that makes it such a uniquely honest film.  If it were intended to be a fictional rethinking or a political diatribe the director could have easily hired actors to ham up or file down the performances to fit his agenda.  Set up in such a way, as is the case with Close-Up, it instead becomes an extension of documentary filmmaking that while forced, nonetheless, manages to mirror reality quite magnificently.  Furthermore, the questions of human identity that are interspersed throughout the film become that much more meaningful, when we as viewers find ourselves relating to the characters on a very real level, considering…well, the realness of each individual.  It also questions what role an artist plays in documenting an event, while the scene involving the rolling aerosol can may seem like a artistic insertion of modernist zeal, it allows viewers and even the journalist who kicks the can to question what mark they are making in such an event, and how clear such markings have on the outcome as a whole.  The addition of such a seemingly mundane scene, arguably proves to become one of the most important scenes in the film.  The most important part of the film, however, is its dealings with human nature and the ability to forgive.  The simple fact that Kiarostami was able to gather all the individuals again for such a reunion is powerful enough, but to get them to verbalize their desires for forgiveness and understanding on film is a statement to the possibility of society on a global scale.  It is clear why this film was such a global success; it is definitively one of the most positive outlooks into our future ever made

I could tell you that buying this film is necessary simply because it is in The Criterion Collection, however, it is far greater than that and is probably one of the films that is necessary to own, if you were limited to only a small selection of films.  It is by far one of the best films I have watched this year, and ever for that matter. 

Death Is But A Moment, Cowardice Is A Lifetime Afflcition: The Trip (2010)

The Trip is one of those rare occasions in which the film's poster completely counters what the film ends up being.  In the image on the advertisements, we are provided with an image of Steve Coogan looking distressed as Rob Brydon laughs unabashedly.  With this picture it is easy to assume that the film is to be an uproarious comedy that will deliver constant laughs and little in the way of profound character study.  The Trip, however, is not a normal comedy, but a very sobering look at one mans attempt to deal with his fading into obscurity and increasingly distancing behavior to the world around him.  At first this discovery bothered me given that I wanted to laugh and enjoy myself, yet despite its incredibly dark undertones the movie was quite hilarious and incredibly profound.  It is an excellent independent film, which has just enough of a spark to flow for two hours and while the film relies heavily on the same set of jokes it manages to remain consistently funny and endearingly honest.  It is traditional in its film style and linear narrative, but beyond that it is something quite unique and watchable.  The Trip is a reminder that English film is still alive and while their comedy is certainly not the popular American style it is hilarious in its own right.

The Trip follows Steve Coogan, playing a slightly more pretentious version of himself, as he agrees to take up a job as a food critic for a national newspaper with the hopes of re-winning the heart of his American girlfriend Mischa (Margo Stilley).  It is apparent, however, that Steve also desires to advance himself out of a failed attempt to rehash his fading comedy career.  Mischa, distancing herself from Steve, decides not to partake in the trip with him leading him to invite his old friend Rob Brydon, played by himself in a much more ignorant manner.  The two then take it upon themselves to travel across London eating at various restaurants and attempting to rekindle their clearly broken relationship.  Instead of simply discussing their lives and activities the two attempt to outdo each others' comedic form, leaning heavily on impersonations, particularly that of Michael Caine.  Their argument over who provides a better impersonation of the aging actor becomes a center for the two's attempts to outshine each other in regards to their careers.  Rob is clearly more successful than Steve, given his popularity on a popular British sketch comedy show, while Steve is known for his work in independent films.  Furthermore, Rob has become a family man, content with having a wife and child, while Steve continues to sleep with different women every night and fails to earn legitimate work at any point during film.  The two continue to travel together, despite a clearly growing resentment on the part of Steve, who finds Rob's continual use of impressions and puns irritating.  After confrontations and Rob's eventual realization that he is a point of envy for Steve, the two resolve their issues and depart humbly, but without great fondness for one another.  Rob returns to his happy family life and clearly finds it rewarding, while Steve is shown alone in his apartment drinking and slouching in despair.  The two have changed in no form from their trip, except for having eaten foie gras crackers.

The Trip is a film about studying the values of human desires, particularly finding a happy medium between qualitative and quantitative desires.  Steve desperately wants his life to take a financial boost, particularly his global career as a comedian.  He desires this far more than he does ensuring a relationship with his girlfriend, or anybody else around him for that matter.  Throughout the film, Steve struggles with constant nightmares about people hating him or encountering far more successful actors and awaking to realize that these fears and desires are actually not occurring.  Even after ridiculing Rob for one of his characters on his sketch show, Steve is shown fighting off tears in a hotel mirror as he fails to recreate the popular character.  It is clear that he is at one point willing to sell out in order to gain global recognition.  This occurs when he is offered a spot as a villain on a television series in the United States.  On the other hand, Rob simply desires to please the people around him, mostly by making them laugh at groan-worthy jokes.  He is clearly elated with his wife and child and the money he makes seems secondary.  Rob's desires for quality allow him to gain quantifiable rewards, at one point he admits that he was surprised by his success, particularly given that it is rooted in a rather idiotic character.  Steve by the end of the film realizes that Rob's success is not to be envied given that he earned it earnestly and without corruption.  Steve appears as though he will change his life and approach things from Rob's perspective, however, the film closes before he can do so and as such we as viewers are uncertain that Steve will indeed change.

The Trip is a solid piece of film that is incredibly viewable.  However, it is not worth owning so a rental will do just fine.

Here’s A Killer Who Understands Bureaucracy: The Poughkeepsie Tapes (2007)

The deluge of found footage films has produced a mixed bag of films over the past decade or so, with highlights including The Blair Witch Project and the Paranormal Activity franchise.  This fascination with discovered footage has proved to be a fascinating source of narrative material for a fictional approach to filmmaking and seems to be a fad that will continue for at least another few years.  However, in 2007 the Dowdle Brothers released a fake documentary about a psychologically depraved serial killer that has forever changed my understanding of what is possible with not only a found footage film, but also horror movies as a whole.  The understanding of the affects proper editing, narrative delivery and cinematic composition can have on the human psyche are  apparent in the Dowdle’s work as viewers are both captivated and disturbed by the film.  It is a film that truly stands on its own as a psychological thriller on a low-budget, and between its gritty realism and absurdly sadistic killer it will have you checking the corners of your house and behind the shower curtain for many days.  Not to mention you will never look at blurry VHS images the same way again.

As noted, the film is set up as a pseudo-documentary in which the police have discovered nearly a thousand tapes shot by a serial killer to recording everything from his sexual fetishes to his grotesque torture and murdering of women.  This then fuels the narrative of the documentary which focuses on an unnamed man who begins his serial killing by kidnapping and murdering an eight year old girl and upon doing so he realizes that he is not only excellent and murder and torture, but that he thoroughly enjoys engaging in the behavior.  The killer continues on to kill a couple who stop to help him with assumed car trouble and the psychotic killer is so deranged that he takes the husband’s head and places it in the stomach of the woman.  These discoveries are intertwined with police, FBI, psychologist and forensic scientists commentaries of the events many of which leave the experts baffled, particularly the killers fascination with a particular woman named Cheryl Dempsey.  As the commentators note, the killer takes a particular fascination with Cheryl and stalks her at length before breaking into her parents house to both kidnap her and killer her boyfriend and of course all of these events are shown in the killers recordings.  It is then shown that the killer debases Cheryl through torture and mutilation causing her to become almost slave like to his every demand.  Realizing the media attention he is receiving the killer decides to change his modus operandi, but manages to have a one-on-one confrontation with Cheryl’s mom, in which he offers help to find Cheryl.  Before Cheryl’s mom can stop the killer he flees from the scene chuckling maniacally.  The killer now takes up killing prostitutes while continuing to torture Cheryl, which includes making her don medieval garb and a bizarre rubber mask that is only topped by the killer’s own disturbing bird skull mask.  The killer becomes so good at killing prostitutes that he is also capable of tricking investigators into believing that the killer is indeed a police officer named James Foley, who while innocent is incapable of providing an alibi and is eventually a victim of the death penalty.  Upon the death of James, the killer sends a map to the police labeled with the words “missed one” and the location of another body, implying that James had nothing to do with any of the killings in which he was punished.  Tragically, James is cleared of all charges posthumously, however, these events are overshadowed by the attacks on 9/11.  The film then cuts to the discovery of the murderers house and his tapes.  This seems to be a rather calm incident until the SWAT team opens a crate to find the body of Cheryl clinging to the last threads of life.  In perhaps the most haunting scene of the film the documentary interviews Cheryl who is incapable of doing anything but stating “what do you want me to say” to the interviewer, a clear sign of the mental damage caused by her captor.  Viewers are then informed that Cheryl killed herself shortly after the interview and within weeks her grave had been pillaged and her body remains missing.  The film closes with experts discussing the very real fact that the killer is still on the loose and that of the large collection of footage twenty-seven tapes remain missing and they can only speculate as to the reasons why the killer kept them in his possession.  One expert also states that they should keep an eye out as to where the documentary is shown, because he is certain the killer will be unable to resist seeing his own “art” played on screen.

The film is brilliant first and foremost for its fresh and disconcerting approach to horror filmmaking.  It is apparent, but subtle, that the Dowdle’s are pulling their inspiration from decades of horror films.  When I say this I do not simply mean American films, but foreign horror films as well.  It is easy to pick up the influences from such horror films as Rosemary’s Baby, Eyes Without A Face and Audition, as well as an understanding of horrific imagery as it relates to cinema as a whole.  Each extreme angle and blurry shot adds an affect of uncertainty that makes the film almost unwatchable due to its blatantly disturbing nature.  However, the film is also an incredible stud of the problems faced by investigators and government when trying to catch a killer that works so craftily within a convoluted justice system.  The killer, as the experts note in the film, understands that by severing bodies and dumping them in separate counties that it will increase the investigation process exponentially.  However, he is also clever enough to pray on victims who already work outside of the law, such as prostitutes, because he realizes that a demand for social justice will be far less for these women than an average person.  Furthermore, the killer is so deranged that he is incapable of committing similar murders and often kills out of rage, yet at other times his murders are quite premeditated.  This constantly shifting murder streak causes the FBI to fail miserably at profiling the killer, because his methods are so complex that it spurs one agent to state that the man most likely works for them.  Finally, and perhaps my favorite factor in this film is its narrative choice.  Most found footage films preoccupy themselves with focusing on a paranormal entity, whether it be demonic or spectral and while this is fine, it certainly results in a sense of detachment when viewing.  It is nearly impossible to detach yourself from the seeming authenticity of this film and this factor makes the film all the more disturbing, not to mention the multiple layers of criticism in which a feminist theorist like Laura Mulvey could provide.  However, that is a heavy bit of theory that I would rather not cloud this review with, but in the future expect an article on it somewhere.

The Poughkeepsie Tapes is currently in a limbo and has yet to be released on any physical format.  Netflix currently has a copy in its saved queue, but it could be sometime before we see a mainstream release.  However, if you search Youtube or other media sharing websites it should be rather easy to find a copy.  My only piece of advice for viewing this one is to stick around after the credits, trust me it is probably the best scene of the entire movie.

All Over The World, Kids Are Getting Down: The Boys & Girls Guide To Getting Down (2006)

Some films dance around the edge of being genius yet in the end fail to offer anything impressive.  Paul Sapiano's indie comedy The Boys & Girls Guide to Getting Down is precisely such a film.  It is an "insiders" guide to hipster culture as it relates to Los Angeles and nothing more.  In fact, the film could easily been a blog or book and delivered the same amount of humor or advice.  It has moments of humor, and a few notable tips on bar hopping, but in the end, it simply exists as another teen comedy complete with swearing, nudity and textbook stereotyping.  The film, despite its flashy graphics, has all been done before...much better.

The film is a mockumentary of sorts, focusing on a large cast of characters attempting to obtain everything from free drinks to one-night stands, showing little concern for much beyond this point.  It is apparent that the film is focused on helping individuals maintain one of Maslow's most basic needs and at no time attempts to step up the next block of the pyramid.  The film breaks down every essential to young adult nightlife including house parties, drug deals, and even promotes drunk driving.  In the end, it leaves little to be learned beyond the simple fact that a bunch of young rich kids can act irrationally with no real repercussions. 

I have no in depth commentary for this film, as it provides nothing but basic advice, which is completely idiotic and on more than one occasion life threatening.  It is a mockumentary that attempts to be brilliant, yet looses itself in the humor so much that its message is tragically uninspired.  Unless you really desire to see young adults going at it for sport, I would recommend avoiding this film.