He's Got His Boots On The Wrong Feet: The Longest Day (1962)

I am a sucker for the big budget Hollywood spectacle film, particularly when Steven Soderbergh is afforded the chance to direct some of the biggest stars in a crime heist movie on three different occasions.  It is not every day, however, that I can actually sit down and enjoy these works, particularly since many of them are rather lengthy endeavors, necessitating a fair amount of screen time for the various performers.  When I do though the rewards are rather clear, the last example being How the West Was Won, a film so absolutely engaging and expansive, both narratively and literally in its use of Cinerama a work so captivating that it catapulted directly to the top of my favorite westerns of all time in the process.  To achieve the same sort of feat with a war film would seem a bit more daunting, particularly since it is predicated on depicting rather graphic elements, particularly when said film is set in and around the storming of the beaches of Normandy.  While my theory can really never be tested, I would like to formally posit that the deciding factor in the success of such grand Hollywood narratives, rife with all-star casts might be the figure of John Wayne, present in the aforementioned How the West Was Won, he too is featured prominently in 1962's The Longest Day, a work that is also made possible by the directorial efforts.  While the film seems to sell Wayne as the major figure, it also consists of a variety of other notable Hollywood leading men, such as Robert Mitchum, Henry Fonda and even features Sean Connery, who was then just becoming a star for his role as James Bond.  These cameos were all absolutely delightful, but the absolute piéce-de-résitence comes in the form of a rather brief appearance by Rod Steiger, who is by far one of my most adored of actors, mostly for his sleezy and slimy roles, although he plays it straight here.  This is a tangent I know, but it is worth noting.  The Longest Day at a runtime of just under three hours succeeds at telling a story of the scale of the days leading up to and immediate aftermath of D-Day, looking at all person involved, both allied and enemy, never forgetting to accept that such a depiction can only succeed if it is capable of showing both the higher up strategy and the on-the-ground grit.  The Longest Day is what a war film should aim to achieve and it is all the more successful if you happen to have Mitchum and Wayne in your corner.

The Longest Day focuses on the invasion of Normandy, agreed by most historians to be the big moment of change in a lengthy and hard fought war.  As such, narrative plot would seem rather redundant as it is a well-known historical event, particularly in regards to its tragedy.  Yet, what The Longest Day does is not provide viewers with an absolutely linear narrative of the events, but three interlocking experiences of American, British and German forces during the events.  The American experiences focuses specifically on the planning of the beach storming, with figures like Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Vandervoot (John Wayne) and Brigadier General Norman Cota (Robert Mitchum) prepping their men for what will, undoubtedly, be a very grueling and life threatening mission.  Vandervoot takes a very technological approach, whereas Cota seems quite ready to dig his feet in and push alongside his men.  Meanwhile other figures emerge from the American forces, whether it be the waxing poetics of a wary Destroyer Commander (Rod Steiger) or the adamant demands of Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. (Henry Fonda) that he live up to his father's reputation.  The British forces center on their own technological endeavors, particularly creating dummies to airdrop and distract German soldiers, their key figures include the somewhat existential Flying Officer David Campbell (Richard Burton) and the wise cracking Scottish soldier Private Flanagan (Sean Connery).  Indeed, this is all juxtaposed with the frantic worrying of the German soldiers whose own insistence on their superior status is put into question when they realize that they are not only incapable of verifying when the American storming might happen, but that they are equally ill-equipped to stifle the French Resistance occurring in the areas with which they have occupied.  This is not to say that they do not fight with poise, indeed, they kill many Allied troops, some before they even land on the ground, causing much frustration for Vandervoot and while it is certainly a hard-won victory, the Allied forces do secure Normandy, the closing moments depicting Cota as he drives off in a moment of celebration, the camera panning out to the various soldiers working away at rebuilding the area, however, suggests that this victory is only a minimal achievement.

War films are all about depicting the emotional toil and physical strain of the endeavor.  For some directors this means a venue to explore the futility and fragility of the human psyche in such a space, perhaps most evident in Kubrick's war films, certainly Full Metal Jacket and Paths of Glory (and to a lesser extent Fear and Desire).  Other directors see it as a moment to praise those who take their burden with great dignity and pride, most obvious in Saving Private Ryan, but it could be argued that it works this way in Oliver Stone's Platoon as well.  The Longest Day manages to traipse, ever so carefully, between both worlds, noting that it is not simply a matter of depicting valiant individuals, because during war it is a matter of destroying the enemy and many individuals on both sides of the fight are merely there out of forced necessity.  This was certainly true for Nazi inscription of soldiers, but the zeitgeist at play in World War II America caused such a fervent patriotism that to not join the war effort was tantamount to treason.  As such, The Longest Day captures the humanity of war for all those involved, save for a few sly and ill-willed Nazi officers.  Accepting the death that is necessary in such a narrative, The Longest Day manages to both deal with images of the dead in a very stoic and dignified manner while also not overselling the image in any degree of exploitative nature.  It is a careful navigating between both worlds, but one that pays off successfully when it is later referenced if only in very indirect terms in the closing moments of the film as the soldiers, fresh off of their storming of the beach, drag themselves up the hills working in a near zombie-like fashion never allowed a moments rest.  Furthermore, while the film does situate the narrative around central figures like Wayne's Vandervoot and Mitchum's Cota, it does not glorify their presence as anything more or less important than the lowly ranking cooks and infantrymen.  Indeed, this film paints the picture of the barracks with such a loving stroke as to capture both the glee in the homosocial bond and the constant threat of death that leads to an anxious dialogue and bonding between each member of the crew.  Despite its decidedly masculine orientation, this film depicts World War II with poise and dignity in a way only twenty years detachment from its occurrence could ever hope to achieve.

Key Scene:  The soldiers hanging from power lines is about as stark a war image as you can get without actually encountering actual footage.  What makes the scene work, however, is Wayne's reaction, one that is so sincere as to suggest he is looking at the real thing.

I snagged this bluray up as a result of the downfall of Blockbuster.  Considering that others, undoubtedly, invaded the store and did the same it should show up on Amazon in the coming days.  I suggest you grab a copy immediately!

I'd Love For The Alarm To Ring Right Now: [REC] (2007)

For the few people who have been reading my blog since its inception over two years ago will be more than aware of my constant quest to find the perfect found footage films, delving far back to the somewhat unbearable, yet historically relevant Cannibal Holocaust and engaging with more contemporary works like The Bay and Chronicle in hopes of finding more hope for the genre's continued success.  [REC] was one film within this cannon that I had been meaning to undertake and had let percolate on my DVD shelf for nearly as long as I have had this blog up and running.  Suffice it to say, the wait was more than worth it, proving to be one of the most narratively, cinematically an jarringly engaging works within the found footage horror sub-genre I have ever witnessed.  While it will still pale in comparison to the revelation that was The Poughkeepsie Tapes, [REC] begins in the most innocuous of manner, only to end in one of the more dark and disturbing of spaces ever committed to in found footage.  [REC] beyond being a stellar work within the sub-genre, also stands on its own as a work of horror filmmaking at its height, using a variety of traditional tricks for the genre to create an ambiance and general sense of dread from the very opening of the film, always aware that in regards to this particular style of filmmaking, much of the fear and anxiety comes from not only what the camera accidentally captures, but from what it will always fail to catch, particularly when the device used to capture the events begins to fall apart on itself.  Indeed, if, as I and others have suggested, the found footage sub-genre exists as a sort of commentary on the post-modern nature of horror filmmaking  then [REC] is this notion at its most realized, resulting in a slew of sequels as well as the ever present American remake.  The joint direction of Jaume Balageuro and Paco Plaza manages to become both a look at what can scares viewers within the purportedly honest filmmaking style of found footage horror, while also extending the unique lens of this sub-genre to consider very deep issues of social divides, both rooted in physical and philosophical differences, never at one allowing those engaging with the film a moment to catch their breath and regroup themselves emotionally.  If cinema, as Tom Gunning suggests, is a thing of attractions, [REC] considers how this attraction can occur without being a necessarily pleasurable experience.

[REC] begins as many found footage films do, in media res, focusing on journalist Angela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) as she and her unseen cameraman Pablo (Pablo Rosso) capture footage for their informative expose show While You Are Asleep.  It is during this particular night on the job that they are tasked with filming the work of a firefighting crew, Angela hoping that since the job is particularly rife with physical challenge and danger that she will be able to cut together a particularly engaging episode of the show.  Despite meeting interesting people at the job, including the strong-willed and likable Manu (Ferran Terraza) it appears as though the evening will be rather underwhelming, until the station receives a call to aid in the opening of a locked apartment, where the neighbors and owners confessed to hearing screams coming from the room.  Upon arrival, the Angela, Pablo and the firefighters find almost the entire apartment complex awaiting their arrival with looks of concern and confusion upon their faces, begging that the crew immediately resolve the issue.  Upon entering the locked room they discover an older woman disheveled and half dressed jumping about her room and making disturbing shrieks and gargling noises.  Assuming her to be on some sort of drug trip or suffering from high degrees of hysteria they attempt to approach her in help, only to have one firefighter be bitten by the maniacal woman, immediately going into shock after the events.  When another firefighter plummets to his death and other individuals start taking severely and violently ill, the apartment residents and the crew attempt to exit the building only to be stopped by a SWAT team informing them that they are now in a quarantined space, incapable of leaving until a health inspector has entered and can provide the necessary tests and vaccinations.  Yet when this occurs and more outbreaks take the other residents and at one point the health inspector himself, Angela and Pablo begin planning their own escape, only to realize that what was initially believed to be a disease that spreads through saliva might well be the result of a much more sinister force, leading them in a face to face encounter with a truly disturbing entity.

[REC] avoids the pitfall of many a found footage films where a director, who usually doubles as a writer on the film, finds it necessary to make every character involved hyper-aware of the situation, dropping dialogue and narrative hints that suggest a complete understanding of every obstacle and a even more keen understanding of the presence of a camera in the situation.  Balaguero and Plaza do no such thing, realizing that the camera in the space of this film can be both a point of benefit for catching moments of human degradation and occasionally triumph, but often fails to do so with any degree of cinematic pleasure.  At first, I found myself frustrated with the particularly blurry and shaky quality of this found footage film only to realize that in its stylistic endeavors this breaking down of the visual aid is perhaps more accurate than most, never fully painting an accessible picture of the events, only half revealing the narrative elements, because as is the case with films like this the work is supposedly a rediscovery of an item that was never afforded a means to edit itself into cohesion.  Of course, films like The Bay and The Poughkeepsie Tapes change this by making the narrative work within the frame of a documentary style.  Nonetheless, [REC] is wholly an incomplete document and, as such, carries with it a certain degree of eeriness as a result.  I do not mean to say that this lack of full cohesion makes it an incomplete experience, but instead a decidedly more accurate one, causing the narratives of distrust, paranoia and perversion to become believable, so in that by the time viewers are shown the reveal in the closing moments of the film it is both baffling, but not so inconceivable as to drive away those watching from continuing on the thrilling ride.  At times [REC] does become aesthetically profound, whether it be something as simple as a girl, moments away from turning via the disease confronting the camera, or a defeated lingering on a man in a hazmat suit entering the building, [REC] kowtows to the possibilities of the cinematic form to be gripping even in its least technical performances, and almost as a way to play with the audience, the film calls attention to its very narrative in the closing line of the film, only to immediately follow this with a title card and notably non-diegetic music playing over the credits.

Key Scene:  The hazmat suits preparing to enter the building is a moment of tragic serenity in an otherwise non-stop thrill ride of film.

[REC] is readily available to all those interested in viewing the film, which, in my mind, should be everyone.

Acting Out Their Dreams, It Came To Be: How The West Was Won (1962)

Epic of epics...all is epic.  I begin with this play on the classic Bible verse because I am rather certain that How The West Was Won may well define the greatest of filmic endeavors.  Sure a ton of people love Gone With The Wind, but it also has a tone of social problems and suffers from historical detachment, where as this sprawling western, even in its set of troublesome imagery, is so grand and epic in proportion that it required an entirely new filming style all its own to be undertaken.  Shot in Cinerama, a film and projection style that required three cameras of film to be recorded and, subsequently, projected separately, to view this film is to see something break the very wide boundaries of the cinematic western landscape.  I have a nice television and one of decent size and even I found myself hoping that it would extend beyond the edges just a bit more, as though my widescreen television was somehow preventing this film from reaching its full potential.  If this new style were not enough, How The West Was Won is also set up in an episodic format showing a somewhat connected history of information answering the statement in the title.  With directors like John Ford offering segments, as well as sections including a veritable who's who of Classic Hollywood stars, How The West Was Won is easily one of the greatest achievements in the dwindling days of the old style system that would be turned on its head only years later.  Borrowing heavily from the cinematic experimentation of Abel Gance and the desire for the grand of D.W. Griffith, How The West Was Won is definitively and undoubtedly a masterpiece.  I really wish I had saved this as the last film of the marathon, because it is easily the culmination of all that is glorious and adored about the western as genre, is a what one should think of when considering a film to be "sweeping" in its narrative.  It has a two and a half hour runtime, but with the intermissions, fully realized storyline, even if segmented and some of the most awe inspiring cinematography I have seen in a film in quite some time, the winding down of this film and its brilliant burst into the future came all to quickly and left me hoping for another set of stories.

How The West Was Won, as noted, is a series of stories, all focused on creating narrative as to how the west, or more specifically, the expansion westward influenced the persona and history that would be America.  The film begins with a story entitled The Rivers focus on Zebulon Prescott (Karl Malden) and his family as they make their way west via a large raft, making said journey along with another family.  Along the way they meet a fur trapper named Linus Rawlings (Jimmy Stewart) who one of Prescott's younger girls takes a liking to, despite Rawlings's suggestion that he is not the marrying type. Although when their paths repeatedly intersect it becomes clear that marriage is a necessity. The next story The Plains  centers on another member of the Prescott family Lilith (Debbie Reynolds) living as a showgirl in St. Louis, only to discover that she has obtained through the donation of a wealthy admirer a stake for gold in California, which leads to her being followed by gambler and pseudo-admirer Cleve Van Valen (Gregory Peck) whose debonair manners woo many women, but he proves to need real feelings to eventually win over the suspicious Lilith.  The next section focuses on The Civil War and the experiences of young soldier Zeb (George Peppard) whose parents are Linus and Eve (Carroll Baker) of the earlier river story.  He, despite Eve's reluctance joins the war effort and becomes a hero after taking down a rebel deserter who infiltrated the ranks of the Union in order to assassinate high ranking officers, one of which is played brilliantly by John Wayne.  Next the section called The Railroads focuses on the invasion of the "iron horse" into the plains and its particular affect on the native populations, a group which wild man Jethro Stuart (Henry Fonda) attempts to protect, only to realize that he can only promise natives safety and trust for himself and not the entirety of the colonizing white man.  Finally, the film ends in a section titled The Outlaws in which Zeb who is now a marshall in a western town takes on an infamous enemy and outlaw named Charlie Gant (Eli Wallach) resulting in an intense and high-paced shootout on a moving train.  After Zeb slays Gant the film focuses on Lilith and the rest of the Rawlings family returning home, before the film takes to a visual flight from the desolate landscapes of the old west to the modernized and skyscraper heavy modern world of Los Angeles suggesting an evolution over a length of time, but one that is always tied to the endeavors of the early settlers.

I cannot get How The West Was Won out of my mind and it is almost entirely due to its unusual cinematic style.  The triptych style of Cinerama filmmaking allows for the narrative to unfold as something very much out of a story book, each character moving throughout the space from being minor almost incomprehensible characters in the background of shots to larger than life figures occupying the space at the center of the screen.  The sort of wide-angle/fisheye visual style that results form this particular filmmaking style also intensifies the emotions of characters within the narrative, Jimmy Stewarts fumbling suaveness heightened to a point of inescapable charm, or Debbie Reynolds's ethereal beauty consuming the entire space of a shot, making each scene melt behind her.  Similarly, it allows for an understanding of how truly consuming the landscapes of the west would have appeared to  the initial settlers, with plateaus and valleys seeming to stretch on into some eternal distance, again a result of the way the juxtaposed images create a new degree of depth.  What is also magical about this particular style is that it captures action and movement in a degree that arguably has the same effect as 3D or IMAX in that the images pop-out of their space when coming into the screen, although Cinerama has an extra layer, because it will also as easily pull a viewer into the centrifuge of a piece of action, the oncoming train scenes and the barrel rolling wagon scene serve as two opposing examples of the possibilities that this new depth allowed.  It was a brilliant choice to cast huge names in these roles, even in uncredited parts, such as Lee Van Cleef and Harry Dean Stanton, because their larger-than-life personas match the intensity and grandiose nature of the filmmaking.  Think here of John Wayne's presence, even if incredibly brief, he steps into the room occupies the space and seems so at ease that one forgets that he is only occupying one of three possible frames.  However, what proves to be the most rewarding element of this style is the moments when the films flicker differently if ever so briefly. My favorite one being a moment when Lilith is dancing and she appears to leap through a frame without touching the ground, these accidents, could be chastised as problematic, but in this context they add a layer of mythology and adoration to something that is decidedly larger than life.  Cinerama aimed at blowing the lid of of filmic possibilities, and in the same vein How The West Was Won aimed to do the same for the genre.

Key Scene:  While every moment is excellent, I would say to get a full feel for what is made better by the choice to use Cinerama then The Railroad section is perhaps the best example of all the elements working simultaneously.

While I watched this on the DVD version, I cannot begin to imagine how much better it would look on bluray, particularly since it offers the option to watch it is "smile box" format which aims to recreate the feeling of attending an original Cinerama screening of this work.  I mean look how much I had to minimize these pictures just to fit them into the blog format.

Fear, Belief, Love. Phenomena That Determined The Course Of Our Lives: Cloud Atlas (2012)

Cloud Atlas will stand to be the most ignored work of 2012, only receiving half-inspired reviews by critics, mostly for its cinematic and effects elements, not to mention a complete snubbing by the Academy for any sort of nomination, ignoring even its stellar use of costuming and make-up to transport actors between different eras and spaces.  While I usually ridicule the absurd reviews written about films via Netflix, I cannot help but agree that a viewer must be "open" to a film like Cloud Atlas, especially since it does not exist in any sort of cinematic convention, aside from its sheer grandiosity and willingness to exact some melodramatic elements as necessary.  For some absurd reason, Cloud Atlas has been describe as a messy film, one that throws together stories without assuring their unison, but this is simply not the case, for the vision helmed by The Wachowski's and Tom Tykwer is exceptionally ambitious, perfectly crafted and perhaps one of the most rewardingly perplexing philosophical statements ever offered in the history of cinema.  While I am not committed to the handful of people suggesting that this will prove to have a similar impact as Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey, in where it was initially shafted only to reemerge as a stellar, much accepted masterpiece, I do think as individuals come around to this film over time they will too come to realize it is a sleeper hit for one of the greater cinematic offerings ever, or at the very least in the last ten years.  Perhaps in a year that seems to embrace cinematic traditionalism, or complete independent artful offerings, Cloud Atlas fell to the wayside as something in-between, yet I would contest that a majority of audiences, as one Netflix defender seems adamant to argue were unwilling to open their minds to a vision of existence that dismisses Western ideals of a higher being and power through force, as well as undermining the means by which films navigate the producer/finance oriented systems of America specifically.  An expertly directed film involving dueling visions has never merged so seamlessly or beautifully and should not be overlooked.  Beyond the beautiful music, the masterful acting and a perfect script one can quickly connect with this film on a very emotive level, drawing moments of beauty and heartbreak from the genre-varied set of intersecting stories.

Cloud Atlas in a nearly three hour passion project proves to cover so many varied stories that, nonetheless, engage with one another on a very connected level, in that faces and memories move throughout.  The film begins with the narrative of Zachry (Tom Hanks) a man living in post-apocalyptic Hawaii who serves as the intersection between a set of narratives which are best briefly described, because any attempt to explain their interconnectedness would only ruin the complexities and beauty of their unfolding.  The first portion focuses on a young man named Adam Ewing (Jim Sturges) as he traverses across the Pacific Ocean falling victim to a disease only to be aided by a stowaway slave.  Second their is the narrative of a relationship between two gay lovers set in early twentieth century London, in which Robert Frobisher (Ben Whishaw) leaves the arms of his lover Robert Sixsmith (James D'Arcy) to seek a job as an assitant to the great conductor Vyvyan Ayrs (Jim Broadbent) in hopes of paving his own musical career, despite a stained reputation as a homosexual.  The next narrative focuses on emerging journalist Luisa Rey (Halle Berry) as she uncovers the lies spouted by a big-time oil company, particularly the hired killing being exacted by tycoon Lloyd Hooks (Hugh Grant).  Next is the contemporary narrative of Timothy Cavendish (Jim Broadbent) whose stroke of bad luck as a publicist leads to his being locked in a retirement home, only to plan an escape.  Next is the futuristic world of Neo-Seoul and the life of Sonmi-451 (Doona Bae) whose only world seems to be engaged with being a servant to wealth full-breed persons, it is not until her eventual freeing from a regimented lifestyle that she realizes the lies of Neo-Seoul and the very real world existing layers below the skyscrapers.  Finally, we are brought to an earlier time in Zachry's life in which he deals with his tribes threats from a warring rival, as well as his own religious convictions, mostly the fears of an evil figure known as Old Georgie (Hugo Weaving).  This essentially only covers everything that happens prior to the credits...it is that serious of a vision and ambitiously complex.

Having only given a cursory explanation as to what occurs in the film, I will hopefully be able to glean some of the the philosophies occurring within the film, as well as some of the social commentaries.  My personal favorite (not to discredit the other exceptional portions of the film) would have to be the world of Sonmi-451, in its clear drawing upon not only the Allegory of the Cave, which so greatly influenced The Wachowski's earlier work The Matrix, as well as the tips of the hat towards many classic sci-fi dystopic films, notably Logan's Run and Soylent Green.  Furthermore, my girlfriend keenly noted this particular sections ties to the meat industry and American consumption habits.  The other sections deal with variants of philosophy and social injustices, whether it be the narrative of Adam Ewing and abolitionist philosophy as it relates to human slavery, or the notion of Nietzschean evolutions of good and evil as they relate to Zachry's internal struggles and ideas of moving away from the safety of normalcy.  The narrative also asks viewers to consider othered bodies cinematically and throughout history in the images of a gay couple (which led to one woman's obnoxious condemnation throughout the screening I attended, assuring that it was not an issue relevant only to the 1930's), as well as images of various racial bodies.  Hell, the film even considers the means by which we, as a society, deal with the aging body.  Finally, the film clearly condemns the acts of big oil companies, in so much as they are willing to kill persons to assure a future reliance on oil, a very real occurrence that has been well documented in a variety of outlets both political and social.  However, it is absolutely the Buddhist approach to universal and transcendent interconnectedness that makes this movie a beautiful thing, going so far as to use a very prescient ocean and drop of water metaphor to make some connections, a statement that is backed visually throughout.  I would love to elaborate more, but doing so might ruin the initial viewing experience that is certain to be rewarding, although I cannot wait to reconsider this film many times in the future.

Key Scene:  While I am partial to a certain scene involving a China shop, as well as Hugo Weaving's performances as Old Georgie (Not to mention the role he plays in the Timothy Cavendish section) each portion of the narrative has at the very least one moment of transcendent cinema that will leave viewers in moments of breathless exaltation.

I know I say this for a lot of films, but I truly urge you to watch this in a theater, it is meant to be grand and cinematic and one can only appreciate the ambitions of The Wachowski's and Tykwer by seeing this on the largest screen possible, and yes I added twice as many pictures because it is necessary to show the cinematic scope of the film.

Magnetic Roses, Stink Bombs And Cannon Fodder: Memories (1995)

While I have been ashamedly voiceless on this blog about my love of Akira, both as a perfected piece of anime, as well as being transcendent of its style into an exceptional piece of cinema, I have not shied away from defending Japan's long standing animation tradition as deserved of receiving discussion in the same voice as the auteurs and the larger cinematic history.  I cite Miyazaki and Kon as particular examples of this, although I must give all credit to Katsuhiro Otomo for my love of anime as a genre of film, in fact, Akira is easily one of my favorite films of all-time and were it not for the unfortunately high price of the available bluray copies I would own this masterpiece in the highest definition possible.  Memories, like Robot Carnival, which I have yet to see, stood as one of the works that sat on my shame list for not seeing, fortunately, I finally got around to watching it and it was more than a revelation, three unique yet undeniably bonded stories about the idea of reflection, one cannot help but bow to the unique cinematic magnitude offered only within animation.  The first story Magnetic Rose is sci-fi perfection made all the more gripping by the writing of the late Satoshi Kon, whose desire to challenge and undermine viewers assumptions burst through perfectly.  Second, is Stink Bomb, which is easily the weakest of the three stories, although this should not cause concern, because its deceptively light-hearted narrative allows viewers to consider the tradition of various filmic genres in Japan as well as a controversial relationship with the Western world.  Finally, to say that Otomo's own offering to the compilation, Cannon Fodder, is unique is a blatant understatement.  Watching the disheveled, dystopic clearly steampunk influenced world Otomo depicts, one cannot help but have everything they have understood about animation completely reconsidered, because the poetics and artistic level exuding from a half-hour anime short manage to provide for a deeply moving and heartbreakingly tragic piece of cinema on innocence and its unknowing loss.  Memories is everything one could want from a compilation piece, unique stories, powerhouse names providing these stories and a revelation on human existence worth many revisitations.

Memories exists, as noted, of three different stories, the first being Magnetic Rose, which borrows heavily and respectfully from the world of Alien, however, where Scott's film contest the nature of consciousness and a desire to live, Magnetic Rose, under the writing of Kon asks viewers to reflect on how memories influence our desire to support or destroy the world we live in.  It centers on a crew answering a distress call from a large ship at the center of a space ship graveyard.  The emergence onto this large vessel reveals a grandly realized simulacrum so deceptive that it proves to trap even the most rational of minds into the cold abyss of space.  The second story, Stink Bomb, centers on the accidental consumption of government funded medicine by a lab assistant who thinks it to be heavy power cold medicine.  The pill, however, causes the hapless scientist to become a walking weapon of nuclear warfare, in that he emits such a foul odor that it causes anyone in its path to lose all control of their nervous system and pass out for lengthy amounts of time.  In the process, the young chemist comes to understand the backdoor dealings involved in the world of pharmaceuticals, as well as the levels of transnational corruption involved in such engagements.  Finally, Cannon Fodder, centers on a city whose sole job appears to be firing off cannons at an nondescript location in the faraway distance, looking specifically at one boys struggle to transcend his working class identity via aspirations to become a high ranking officer in the system of cannon firing.  The narrative, as should be obvious, considers the issues of class mobility and consciousness, as they relate to the problems of an overtly regimented, clearly fascist form of bureaucracy.  The three coalesce beautifully and manage to reflect on levels of the personal, the national, the global and to some degree the universal, showing both the beauty and tragedy in each.

It seems as though the particular approach to memories within these three distinct stories manages to piggyback of these varying notions of interactions, firstly considering the idea of personal memory, which clearly affects the actions and eventual submission of the astronaut Heinz who clearly suffers from his accidental involvement in the untimely death of his daughter, something that is eventually exploited by the corrupt computer to cause him to stay onboard assuring his death.  This personal notion of memory is also challenged by a universal one in so much as the junk and rocks floating freely throughout space represent a physical memory that can either be seconds or billions of years old, all of which move towards a magnetic center overtime, a hugely realized commentary on existential woes.  Furthermore, Stink Bomb suggests the lingering effects of a historical memory, particularly one that is formed between The United States and Japan in regards to nuclear warfare, in focusing on the accidental emergence of a nuclear weapon at the hands of a clumsy scientist, viewers are asked to consider the very human element involved in even the thought of testing nuclear warfare.  The unconscious bodies littering the streets of tokyo take on a very real call back to the tragic loss of persons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  It also considers the way in which dueling memories of the act of nuclear warfare affect how groups engage with one another, which is excellently depicted in the splintering relations between the Japanese and American generals throughout the work.  Finally, the film considers the issue of fabricated memories, explored in Cannon Fodder via a fictional fascist state in which the entire town fires cannons day by day with little or no question to its purpose.  In fact, the only point of contention emerges via a brief scene in which a few works demand that the chemical used to launch the cannons be cleaner thus equating to safer working conditions, ideas of armistice are irrelevant.  In a rather Foucaldian ending one cannot help but consider why the boy is ashamed of his father, particularly since it appears as though the ever-present search lights and indoctrinations of this town demand that he aspire for greatness, although the promise of his future is of course a guise, any one familiar with the history of fascism will easily pick up on this idea.

Key Scene:  There is a moment of childlike animation in Cannon Fodder that is completely unexpected and would be foolish or irrelevant in most animated films, yet its commentary and evolution into another image is so tragic that it cannot, and should not, be overlooked.

This, unfortunately, is currently only available on DVD, but that does not mean it should not be purchased, it is well worth owning and revisiting regularly, it has certainly inspired me to look back on Akira in the weeks to come.