Holes Are Interesting, There Are Books About Holes: Cosmopolis (2012)

I am astounded by the amount of negative feedback mounted agains this, David Cronenberg's most recent filmic offering.  Well...actually I am not entirely astounded, but more so begrudgingly understanding in the derisive attitudes directed towards the piece.  Existing in an ethereal space that is both within the confines of the alienating cinematic stylings made famous by the Canadian auteur, while also managing to deconstruct the very relationship technology and space has to film output, Cosmopolis is far from Cronenberg's most viscerally engaging work.  Beginning and ending with some decidedly upbeat music from composer Howard Shore, one would almost immediately dismiss it as a work by the director whose use of the body as a space of cinematic violence has become a trope of sorts within his career, causing one to immediately compare other works that incorporate such themes and imagery as being always in contention with his, usually superior, offerings.  Suffice it to say, Videodrome, Existenz and many other Cronenberg works proved to be well ahead of their times, the two former pieces proving as, if not more, enigmatic as was the case during their original release.  While I would not go so far as to suggest that this is on par with those two films, I do think people are under-appreciating the winding, if decidedly monotonous styles of this film, which for all intents and purposes is focused on one young man's limo ride through a city.  Yet, Cronenberg who is ever prescient in his cinematic endeavors seems to use this car as a larger metaphor for the individual attachment to society by way of technological detachment.  Existing in a space of the heightened simulacra on a level of starkness compared only to Cronenberg's own work, or perhaps the more jarring work of Lars Von Trier, Cosmopolis constantly demands that the viewer move beyond what is portrayed in the foreground of a scene, to scrape away at the layers of depth within a moving image, at times even needed to dig deeper to find something in the very skin of the film itself.  Cosmopolis is about penetration, both in a literal and metaphorical sense and while it may seem as though Cronenberg is a filmmaker whose movies are primarily for his own enjoyment, it is rather obvious that he expects viewers to engage with the films on a tangible and textual level wherein simple observation bears few results if not absolute indifference, but a focused eye and mind can see something both poignantly disturbing and decidedly prophetic.

Cosmopolis centers on the day of Eric Packer (Robert Pattinson) a son of a wealthy mogul, who has had his own success in the stock trade, thus spending much of his time simply cruising about the city and trying to get laid, either by his former fiancee or by many of the various women he encounters.  When told by his security guard that he ought to consider limiting his travels in lieu of an upcoming visit by the president, Eric stubbornly refuses and demands that he be taken across town to receive a haircut.  Along the ride, Eric meets with various acquaintances, whether it be tech gurus like Michael Chin (Philip Nozuka) and Shiner (Jay Baruchel) or people with whom Eric has had past sexual relationships, often re-consummating the relationships as occurs with Didi Fancher (Juliette Binoche) and Kendra Hayes (Patricia McKenzie).  Ultimately, however, Eric seems most intent on recreating a relationship, purely one of sexual means with his ex-fiance Elise Shifrin (Sarah Gadon) who is decidedly uninterested in his advances.  When a local religious leader and spirited social activist dies, a moment of civil unrest arises, all while Eric idly passes the time in his car, drinking, pontificating and at one point even receiving a prostate exam.  Eventually, the constant burden of having to worry about his security guard Torval (Kevin Durand) being extremely cautious with his whereabouts leads to Eric tricking him into deactivating the lock on his gun and killing the guard.  This shift allows Eric to move more freely about the city even enabling to finally get his haircut although it requires the opening of a barber well past business hours, a moment wherein the barber and Eric's driver share in stories of their past days as taxi drivers.  This moment proves to be the last of Eric's encounters, before he finally meets up with Benno Levin (Paul Giamatti) a hermit and hypochondriac that has purportedly spent the entirety of the day trying to kill Eric.  When in his sights, Benno fails to kill Eric, but instead of fleeing Eric climbs the stairs to his apartment and enters into his house, only to be confronted by Benno, the two sharing in a perplexing and winding confrontation before Eric assumedly succumbs to his fate, sitting facing the camera as Benno utters a few words, the screen fading to black before any shot is fired.

I want to reemphasize the way in which this film is seemingly working on a layer below the tangible, wherein, the to use a term in corporeal cinema, the skin of the cinema has been penetrated.  There are moments in Eric's limo where it would seem like the CGI is being executed in a very poor manner, making it quite clear that the outside is different from the interior, I would argue that this is not poor filmmaking, but a directorial choice on the part of Cronenberg to show Eric's movement from complete technology based detachment to the real which moves towards complete attachment to it in the closing moments of the film when the now less certain Eric enters the space of Benno's gross and filthy apartment, complete, no less with a mound of broken computer monitors.  It would seem to be in this bookended nature of the film that Cronenberg is tackling the issues of how a social understanding of the world fueled almost entirely by that which is attainable through social outlets.  The movement in and out of individuals within the space of Eric's vehicle represent the transitory and desultory nature of communication in this age, right down to what appears to be a cinematic recreation of a booty call.  Eric cannot seem to understand the physical barriers confronting his ability to travel the town during the presence of the president, because his world does not exist outside of the car and, therefore, he cannot physically understand such a thing as a barrier, a metaphor that perfectly extends to the seemingly unlimited amount of access he is afforded purely as a result of wealth.  Indeed, he is shown rather early in the film attempting to buy the Rothko Chapel, a space purportedly made for the community, which Eric hopes to possess for himself through financial means.  This acquisition without physically viewing an item takes on yet another layer of online identity as Eric can now consume the world from the comfort of his car computer, never being forced to deal with a grounded understanding of things.  Even events of heightened intensity are dealt with in a detached manner, watching a riot occur from the safety of his walled in car/computer, much as was the case with watching the Occupy Movement or in more violent examples the uprisings in the Middle East.  It is fitting that when he does finally leave his car and computer space it is to get a hair cut an act of physical destruction that leads to the further, assumed physical destruction of his body in the closing moments of the film.  The computer has allowed a person access to pretty much anything they could desire on Maslow's hierarchy of needs, yet the feeling of destruction and, ultimately, death must be felt in the flesh and in the real.

Key Scene:  It should be no surprise that the best scene in this film involves Eric receiving a prostate exam while talking to another woman.  Aside from Robert Pattinson knocking this scene out of the park in acting terms, it also takes on a wonderful layer of metaphor and psychosexual politics.

This is watch instantly on Netflix, however, it is worth obtaining on bluray, the lack of popularity has led to it dropping in price considerably, which both a shame and a benefit to those looking to obtain a copy of the film.

Think Of 'Em Like Moving Two By Fours: Tucker and Dale Vs Evil (2010)

The revisionist horror film is almost a thing that is ad nauseam in post-digital filmmaking.  Indeed, it would appears as though every hip post-film school punk thinks themselves capable of creating a masterwork in horror that is in comparison to Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Exorcist.  This is not to say that decent digital horror films do not exist, there are quite a few examples of next level horror films that have emerged in the past decade, but for the most part they are indicative of sloppy filmmaking that masks itself under excessive gore and formulaic plot.  Tucker and Dale vs Evil in all its absurdity does manage to reconsider some of the elements necessary to horror films and even cleverly engages with some of the classic horror cinema texts from which it pulls.  Of course, given that the entirety of the film is predicated upon one misunderstanding based on social stereotypes the jokes surrounding this run thin by the end and seem less than stellar.  That is not to say that Tucker and Dale vs Evil is not an enjoyable viewing experience, but purely to note that it loses its flare by the closing moments.  The highlight here, however, is Alan Tudyk, who as I noted along side Trey on my appearance on the podcast Drive By Nerding, when Tudyk shows up in anything I will seek it out and consume it, because even with his decidedly comedic choices, he turns in some of the best acting available.  Where Tucker and Dale vs Evil works as a film is in the moments that it clearly makes sure it is not taken seriously, layering on blood and nudity as though it is almost an afterthought, noting that as a genre film it is somehow only taken seriously when such extremes are depicted, by not taking these "necessary" moments as anything but fabrication viewers are allowed to dig a bit deeper and consider the implications of villains and heroes in the horror film canon proper, and like any good revisionist work of genre filmmaking, Tucker and Dale vs Evil leaves those who encounter it considering the very nature of the presumably entrenched tropes of hillbilly slasher movies.

Tucker and Dale vs Evil focuses on two coinciding stories, one focusing on a group of college kids taking a weekend trip to the woods, ranging from the likable and well-meaning Allison (Katrina Bowden) to the seemingly devious and decidedly maniacal Chad (Jesse Moss).  Along with a few other friends they are hoping to get drunk in the woods and engage in all the wild behaviors possible.  Meanwhile Dale (Tyler Labine) and Tucker (Alan Tudyk) also have high hopes of their own, as two self-associating rednecks they take pride in their acquisition of a vacation home, planning on spending the weekend engaging in renovations of the space.  At a local gas station the two groups cross paths, Dale taking a liking to Allison, but when approaching the group, Dale in his stalky demeanor and carrying of a scythe like pole only manages to scare the group, however, their paths reconvene when later that night while fishing, Tucker and Dale spot the group going skinny dipping, even catching Allison as she begins to undress on a high rock.  Scared, Dale shouts causing Allison to fall in panic and become knocked unconscious.  In guilt, Dale takes Allison back to their cabin and begins bringing her back to health, much to the frustrations of Tucker, but more so to the panic of Allison's friends, particularly Chad who mounts a wild plan to get his girlfriend back.  This plan falls completely to the wayside, however, when each attack leads to Dale or Tucker accidentally killing one of the member from Chad's group, either by dodging their attack and leading to their being impaled or by accidentally allowing them to fall into a wood chipper.  Ultimately, Chad becomes wildly vindictive in his attempts to seek revenge upon Tucker and Dale, at one point capturing Tucker and chopping off one of his fingers.  As a past story of murders in the area unfolds, it becomes clear that Chad is perhaps not as well-meaning as he appears, just as Tucker and Dale are not quite as brutal, and in the end Chad is destroyed and Dale is able to win over Allison.  Tucker who now possesses a new finger, seems quite content to be able to enjoy a fresh PBR from his hospital bed.

Tucker and Dale vs Evil works in a lot of regards.  The gore is so synthetic and absurd as to be nearly endearing in its absurdity and much of the dialogue is so heavy handed that one might think writer/director Eli Craig lifted every bit of it from eighties horror films.  These things are great and some of the highlights of the film, but what makes this film clever and a decidedly post-genre comedy, is the way in which it deals with the homoeroticism latent to the psychotic hillbilly horror film, particularly the classic in this regards Deliverance.  Wherein violently sexual encounters are used in a very demeaning and metaphorically visceral way in the cult classic starring Burt Reynolds, the homoeroticism of Tucker and Dale vs Evil becomes humorous in how much Craig makes the viewers acknowledge its potential, made all the more intriguing by the sort of connections made to rural folk life in hilly southern country that is entirely predicated upon Deliverance and the infamous "squeal like a piggy" scene.  Tucker and Dale obviously share a longing with one another, a desire to be together that is not necessarily sexual, but still borders on being wildly homoerotic.  Whether it be their initial encounter with the ill-fated police chief wherein Dale finds himself in a compromising position with Tucker, or their countless mishaps that land one on top of the other, it is clear that their embraces linger on far longer than one would expect for purportedly heterosexual men.  Craig's equally lengthy shots of the scenes ask viewers to first laugh at the absurdity, but then consider why exactly it is funny, when the situational bit wears thing.  In a society that is far more open to diverse sexual identities this is executed beautifully and becomes a great study on individuals burgeoning into their comfort sexually.  For Dale it is a movement towards heterosexuality, but it is rather clear that in the relationship between himself and Tucker that it is Tucker who truly possesses the homoerotic desire, almost affirmed by his acquiring a woman's finger in his hand transplant, one that Dale says fits, a clear suggest that his desire for men is fine, although not best directed at Dale.  This is all minimally discussed in the film, but, nonetheless, exists and makes for a wonderfully subversive film, masquerading as an absurdist horror comedy.

Key Scene:  Any of the moments involving Tudyk waxing poetic about beer are quite wonderful.

Neflix. Watch. Instantly.  In contrast to most of the garbage available, this is well worth your consideration.

There Was A Man Down There!: Zombie (1979)

Certain blog posts about films beg questions as to the larger meaning of life, or the nature of good versus evil as shown in societies most basic engagements.  At times films flail to answer these questions and in other situations they deliver such an assertive voice on an issue as to become a significant moment in cinema, as well as a work of art that proves important well beyond its inception, as is the case with something like 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Zombie, the gore-fest horror film by Italian director Lucio Fulci, ask questions as well, or more appropriately causes those who view it in all its shlock-filled glory to inquire about the various oddities and curiosities which unfold throughout the film.  For example, who in their right mind only goes swimming in a thong, but feels it absolutely necessary to wear a gaudy swim cap in the process.  Or, how one could find themselves in such a situation as to allow a slow zombie the chance to catch up with them, push only their hand through the room and then drag their eye into an exposed piece of wood.  Hell, it even posits a possible world where people feel so incapable of stifling their sexual desires that they consider having sex in the middle of a zombie infested forest, only to be genuinely surprised by their being attacked.  In all these ways, perhaps Zombie really does transcend its restraints of traditional gore cinema and become a focused look at human nature on par with the great works of the auteurs, who knows, because between the terrible, and I have seen enough to know this is particularly bad, voice dubbing and video transferred blurriness. Yet, Zombie, as a work that does, for all intents and purposes, exist in its own cinematic space manages to move through cult cinema circuits, word-of-mouth and devoted cinephiles with the same adoration given to the works of Kubrick or Welles.

Zombie, is of course about zombies, but that does not mean that Fulci does not approach the narrative without earnestness.  Indeed, the film begins pseudo-in media res, with a beginning shot of a shadowy figure shooting a body moving about that is bound and blanketed in a white sheet, before nothing it is now feasible to leave the island.  The film then opens with an abandoned yacht floating into the harbor of New York, wherein two unsuspecting cops are attacked by a zombie creature, only to shoot it into the depths of the city's harbor.  The cops confused by the events question Anna Bowles (Tisa Farrow) who is the owner of the yacht, only to discover that she was engaged in an elicit affair, leading to the secrecy behind the yacht's appearance.  Anna explains that the attacks are likely attached to the work her father does on a tropical island, leading to her and reporter Peter West (Ian McCulloch) being sent to ascertain exactly what is occurring and what exactly is happening to the diseased attacking bodies.  Given their trouble traveling the duo gain the help of boating experts and semi-professional nudists Bryan Curt (Al Cliver) and Susan Barrett (Aurretta Gay).  Upon arrival at an uncharted island known as Matool, the group meets up with Dr. David Menard (Richard Johnson) who explains that the island is particularly subject to a disease that causes all those who die in its spaces to rise from the dead with an uncontrollable desire for human flesh and despite the dangers clear with such a disease, he insists on staying to continue research.  This continual occupation in the space of the island leads to the various members of the group being attacked, whether it be Dr. Menard's wife being attacked post-shower by a decidedly voyeuristic zombie, or the previously mentioned attacks on the couple having sex.  Eventually, the only survivors of the vicious onslaught are Peter and Anne, who bring along the zombie corpse of Bryan as evidence, yet when they get close to New York they discover via radio transmission that the city, and presumably much of The United States is under the spell of the disease.

Zombie is not made to be taken too seriously, although it is clear that Fulci has some semblance of a social critique at play, one no less on the nose than any other zombie film of the time, particularly the work of George A. Romero, from which, this film heavily and unapologetically borrows.  Indeed, its proper Italian title is Zombi 2, as Zombi represents the Italian name for Romero's wildly successful Dawn of the Dead, a personal favorite of mine in the genre.   I say all this to suggest that the metaphors in this film, much like their predecessor are intended to be on the nose, precisely because a zombie film affords an othering, wherein all characters are aware of the evilness they are versing, thus making any sense of previous social divide moot.  Take for example the race and gender elements of Romero's original film Night of the Living Dead and how they are briefly acknowledged and immediately transcended in favor of focusing on the push for survival and the irrelevance of all previously constructed notions of society.  Indeed, Fulci is aware of this commentary and by setting his film on a remote island only furthers the detachment of the film's narrative from such institutionalized structures, therefore affording a degree of subversion to bodily depictions in the film.  However, Fulci also seems to be bending the genre, albeit, unintentionally by heavily relying on elements of the exploitative for his film, the wild use of gore, at time really jarring and at other moments so artificial as to be humorous manages to work on an almost, dare I say, Brechtian level, both drawing the viewers into the films intensity while also chastising and alienating them for taking any joy, even if purely visceral, in such excess and faux social critique.  Zombie wants its viewers to be unsettled by not only the infestations and body horror of the film, but by the fact that it is indeed being paralleled to a society that is equally disconcerting when placed under a microscope, showing that the same worms that spills out of the eyes of the various zombies, manifest themselves metaphorically through capitalist and scientific endeavors in the Western world.  Furthermore, should you think this all implausible, Fulci's closing scenes drive this home with great zeal.

Key Scene:  Shark versus Zombe.

This DVD is surprisingly cheap for its cult like status, but I am aware it might not work for everyone, therefore, renting might be an ideal course of action.

The Happy Childhood Is Hardly Worth Telling: Angela's Ashes (1999)

The adaptation of Frank McCourt's memoir in all its high sentimentalism and Irish charm would have been a standout hit and well-received classic were it to come out any other year but 1999.  As many podcasts and bloggers have noted before me, 1999 has proven to be a standout film for contemporary cinema evidenced by the seemingly unstoppable amount of great, if not, at the very least, unique and important works.  In its two and a half hour undertaking, Angela's Ashes is an absolutely watchable film that has some true moments of heart-wrenching honesty and all around great performances, and given that I often see copies of McCourt's novel at second hand book stores, it is clear that it at one time or another was a widely acclaimed and read book, however, I am also aware that the heavy handedness of the text and subsequent sentimentalizing nature of the film are exploitative in their nature.  For the moments in the film that chronicle the emergence of first love, it is also important to note that these evolutions too come with loss and the film is never sure what to make of the ebb and flow of such natural occurrences, resulting in a linear narrative that manages to fail in its climactic structure.  Of course, I am hardly a person who advocates for such straight forward methodologies when concerning filmmaking, but the particular stylistic choices of McCourt's memoir and the directorial nature of Alan Parker.  The suffering Irish family is a trope culturally at this point and it is simply a matter of how committed the director or author are to the subject as to its success and Angela's Ashes is far from being as intense as My Left Foot.  I do, however, want to make it expressly clear that I am not against Angela's Ashes, I get the narrative it is trying to create and the methods it uses are certainly executed to the highest degree, but given that it was released relativley recently it is hard to embrace it for anything than traditional, deciding to play into the highly stylized romanticizing of poverty and suffering that would be blown into excess a year earlier with Titanic and as witty and energizing as the narrator's coming of age tale proves to be, it is simply not enough to justify its extended runtime and general lack of narrative evolution as characters move from point A to point B, only to realize that point A was the desired location after all.

Angela's Ashes, despite its suggestive name, actually focuses on the childhood and young adult experiences of Frankie McCourt, who is played by a handful of actors in this film since he ages throughout the lengthy temporal narrative.  Regardless, the story begins with Frank as a child and the realization of death when his parents Malachy (Robert Carlyle) and mother Angela (Emily Watson) suffer from the loss of a child due to it being born in the winter in their impoverished living conditions.  This sad misfortune begins the process of them moving from America back to Ireland, the exact opposite of what many were doing at the height of the Depression in both countries.  Upon arrival in the religiously and politically divided country Frank realizes the true powers of stereotyping as he is mocked by his classmates for being a "yank," as well for having a father who is lazy and from the North.  Nonetheless, Frank and his brothers are strong-willed children and they manage to survive even though their father hardly works, and when he does the money he earns is quickly wasted at the local pub.  Frank seems always keenly aware of these tragic actions on the part of his father and continually strives to make a path for himself in the world, while also attempting to earn money for his family, particularly his suffering mother.  Yet, when it becomes quite clear that their only means for survival is to completely remove their father from the live and work as live-in servants to a wealthy bachelor, Frank begins to question his place in the family, becoming quite critical of the discovery that his mother is providing sexual favors to the man for money, and finally moves out when he discovers that she would rather side with the man than her own son for the sake of economic safety.  Frank moves out on his own and finds work as a telegraph courier, which leads to his first sexual encounter with a young woman dying of tuberculosis, which gives him his last push into adulthood via an awakening to lust and death near simultaneously.  After a large sum of money falls in his way, Frank seizes the opportunity to truly begin his life in the only fashion he knows how, by moving back to America, although in the name of narrative closure it is suggested that he returns fondly upon all of the moments of his young life.

It is perhaps this emphasis on fondness that makes the film slightly more frustrating than rewarding, and I realize this is somewhat absurd coming from me, a person who loves when films take leaps and go against the grain of traditionalism.  However, in regards to Angela's Ashes the issue emerges when McCourt's text is vaguely adapted to make negative characters seems sanctimonious or something other than terrible.  Obviously the example I am referring to is Frank's father, Malachy who spends nearly all of his screen time drunk.  Of course, as children Frank and his brothers are less likely to pick up on these problems, and instead; embrace his more light-hearted paternal moments, which would be fine if the film also did not seem content with this methodology.  The fact of the matter is that Malachy is blowing his earnings on booze while allowing his children to go hungry and even worse for his wife to be so malnourished that when she gives birth it results in sick babies who die within hours or days of arriving into the world.  At no point is this truly challenged, sure Angela kicks Malachy out of the house and society seems intent on chastising Malachy, but it is so much more entrenched in his Northernness than in his alcoholism.  I must confess that I have not read the book so I am uncertain as to how Malachy is depicted in the context of the memoir, but it seems as though any attempts at defending his near atrocities should be undercut by the realities, something that the film manages to avoid on a regular basis.  While Malachy's character is the biggest problem of the film it is certainly not the only vague depiction of oppression, the film seems to have a unbalanced and wavering depiction of many of the institutions of the era, particularly the charity based organizations of the government and the Catholic church, as well as the role teachers played in Frank's upbringing.  I am not suggesting that Frank McCourt did not find success without a strong sense of self-worth and determination, but the film is a bit too self-aware about his post experience introspection to see where he was aided and hindered as a child, which causes the films sentimental nature to be more misguided than endearing.

Key Scene:  When Frank begins his affair with the young woman with "consumption" it is one of the few moments of absolute narrative and cinematic cohesion and it is hard not to get emotive at its beautiful depiction of loss of innocence.  If only this film were that consistent throughout it may well have been one of the highlights of a year of excellent film.

Angela's Ashes is not a bad movie, in fact, it is quite good.  My issue arise with some of its obtuse moral statements and considering that it is rather expensive on DVD, I cannot suggest you go out of your way to see it in the near future.

I Disappear, And If You're Smart, That Scares You: Jack Reacher (2012)

I am a big fan of films that are decidedly ambiguous in their moral commentary, it is not necessary, in my worldview that one must be provided answers to all life's large questions through a deeply engaging film, in fact, this is one of the many reasons I am enjoying the string of work coming from Paul Thomas Anderson.  However, with that in mind I am completely bothered when a film attempts to embrace some degree of moral ambiguity, only to make it blatantly clear that it has created a fine line between right and wrong.  The recent adaptation of Jack Reacher, from the novels of Lee Child, seem to exist in this problematic realm.  Before being critical I want to note two things.  First, I understand that this is an adaptation, therefore, it will be impossible to create a perfect reflection of any ideal character or subject study from the text, because you will invariably be required to cut elements out.  Second, aside from a few moments of less than stellar acting on the part of Cruise and a few of the other performers, this is a solidly composed and well-delivered film from a formalist frame of reference.  These elements help to explain why it got such surprising reviews even from people who found themselves to have preconceived notions about its assumed terrible nature.  I am bothered though because the version of the screenplay that does emerge on the screen is something of an absurdity, because it manages to paint an image of Jack Reacher, an ex-military police officer, as being something far beyond the morally straight, in his quest for truth, even if it means a bit of deception along the way.  Unfortunately, whatever version of the script this idea emerged never really came to fruition and instead viewers are provided with a character, and even villains who are supposed to navigate a grey area of moral values, only to end up reaffirming them, something I will elaborate on a bit later, because while I am quite critical of its implementation, I am also aware that this action film is a few strides ahead of its contemporaries, almost moving into the space of the superhero film.  Of course, the biggest travesty of this film is to include both Robert Duvall and Werner Herzog in the cast and only provide them with what probably amounts to a collective of fifteen minutes of screen time.

Jack Reacher begins with a tragic and unexplained shooting that leaves five victims dead, leading to a quick investigation on the part of the police force that pins the murders on ex-Army sniper (Joseph Sikora) who is immediately put into custody and severely beaten by fellow convicts who see him as a ruthless and psychotic killer, however, before this occurrence he asks for the help of man named Jack Reacher (Tom Cruise) and before the attorneys can even attempt to hunt down the man, Reacher emerges from nothingness to involve himself in the case.  Reacher is a decidedly enigmatic individual, using only cash transactions and a completely nomadic lifestyle to avoid detection of any degree, as a clever aside he even changes his name when meeting people, always choosing a Yankees second baseman as his moniker.  However, Reachers arrival does not solve the case by any means and the district attorney and his young gun aid are set on putting Barr on death row, although the D.A.'s daughter Helen (Rosamund Pike) seems to insist that him having a fair trial is of the upmost importance, even if he is assured to be guilty.  Reacher seems solely concerned with obtaining a factual reason for each killing, believing that Barr's previous indiscretions as an ex-sniper void him of criticism and that there is clearly another layer of motive.  All the while, Reacher begins navigating the crime world and discovers that there are crime syndicates out to get a particular building company, and that Barr was likely framed by this syndicate led by The Zec (Werner Herzog) a grotesque giant of a man whose will to survive led him to chewing off his own fingers and completely losing any sense of relation to the world.  Reachers continual investigation leads him to also discover that the attorneys supposedly in charge of helping individuals are likely tied to the syndicate, putting Helen in an incredibly tense situation as her choices to delve deeper into the investigation result in her being a subject of scrutiny by her father and his aide.  However, Reacher knows that by finding one person to affirm Barr's character, he will be able to make it to the killers, finding this in Cash (Robert Duvall) a cantankerous old man whose work at a shooting rage allowed him to come into contact with Barr, as well as another man who Reacher suspects to be the real killer.  Of course, this is not the end of the film there is a large, excessive shootout leading to the death of nearly everyone involved, with the exception of the clearly delineated good guys.

I mention that the film ends with the good guys winning, because it spends so much of the film suggesting that everyone is capable of morally questionable decisions when in the appropriate setting.  For example, it is not necessarily within Helen's moral goodwill to invade the victims of the shootings homes, yet when told that it will help her case she does so with fervor, much to the anger of a father, who clearly seems intent on blaming Barr for his daughters death, completely throwing innocence out the window.  Even the attorneys on the case seem indifferent to morals, in fact, this becomes very clear by the end of the film, but as Helen makes clear, her father only chooses to pick cases he knows he can win, because such a reputation allows him to have sway over criminals even if they are innocent.  Reacher himself also navigates some questionable ethical territory when he steals multiple cars and creates an overblown police chase an event that causes a ton of damage and fails in his ultimate goal of leading the cops directly to the real criminals.  Furthermore, once his car is immovable he is afforded aid by a group of citizens who see his fleeing from a ton of cops as something to embrace, one man even offering him his hat to allow for a disguise as he hops on the bus and is driven away.  People within the context of this film seem uncertain about what role authority plays, particularly since it seems subject to its own levels of corruption.  One of the more intriguing conversations in the film centers around Reacher and Cash considering the threat of gun violence on the livelihood of his shooting range.  Reacher knows that he only need to mention that Barr was a frequent visitor to his range to get a paranoid soccer mom to get the place shutdown.  It is a decidedly valid threat and causes the film to exist in another layer of gun rights commentary, however, even when one assumes this to be an underlying theme it too is undermined and inconsistently discussed throughout.  Also, The Zec, proves to be a less than stellar character, whose willingness to but his body into pain in the name of survival has its own degree of intrigue, and his admittance to having no clue about his real identity speaks volumes to his complexity, but he is killed moments later, for what is a rather inexplicable reason.  Nothing is fully fleshed out in the moral world of the film and it is frustrating, thankfully, its showiness makes that somewhat bearable.

Key Scene:  The car chase was quite enjoyable, it had been sometime since I had seen one with any degree of excellent execution, aside from the obvious ones in a certain Ryan Gosling flick.

This was a free theater screening for me and made it somewhat less terrible I imagine, although I can say that it is worth renting, if only as an example of how not to approach moralism in film.

Experiments In Film: Fires In The Mirror (1993)

Dealing with a narrative that pits perhaps two of the most oppressed minorities in history against one another in the face of an inexplicable death and subsequently blaming for its occurrence is a nearly impossible thing to put into visual form, considering that it requires a person to acknowledge the multiple voices and interactions and engagements that surround its most heightened moments, not to mention the seemingly irrelevant moments that, nonetheless, factor heavily into the rhetoric surrounding an event well before its initial inception.  All of this is damn near impossible to do with success, and it is certainly only worsened when one attempts to perform all of these identities on their own.  However, for a considerable portion of the early nineties, Anna Deavere Smith found herself attacking issues of race riots, specifically looking at a problematic and fiery riot which occurred in Crown Heights in 1991 following death of a young black boy and a later a young Hassidic Jewish man, in what was allegedly retaliation agains the elderly Jewish man who ran the boy over.  Of course, while much of the film, although to be more accurate it is a video recording of a one person show Smith had put on, seems intent on considering the odds and angers between Jewish and African-American groups uncomfortably navigating the same condensed and oppressive spaces, it is certainly not the only element of the ideology being spouted and countered throughout the film.  Smith constantly moves between race, gender and identity to look at the ways in which political leaders such as Al Sharpton affected the movement, as well as the way in which theories about race and religion undermine the possibility of successfully understanding the misunderstanding that led to unnecessary bloodshed and an equally frustrating riot in a urban subdivision of New York.  Fires in the Mirror manages to be about as bias as possible in its consideration of who really suffers loss in such a situation, while making bold and expansive considerations of the way identity changes and molds itself to fit a moment or idea, much as Smith does within the context of the one person show.

The film seems to embrace Judith Butler's notion of performing gender as being just that, a performance.  Particularly, Butler seemed to suggest that a person could use and remove certain gendered signifiers to help those they interact with better understand their gender in the moment, although even this is rather fluid and subject to change in the matter of seconds.  Smith takes this idea and more than runs with it within Fires in the Mirror, in once scene playing a white statistician, while in another Angela Davis, she even embodies the unconventional role of a Australian Hassidic Jew, all the while creating a narrative of the possible layers to the death of two young people and the dueling riots of two groups who felt they had been victims of an injustice.  One could certainly argue that Smith wants to extend Butler's notion of the performative to add elements of race, class, nationality and even more unusual religious identity, reminding viewers that in most instances common ideals win out and rationality emerges, however, when one finds trouble navigating the liminal space between respect and understanding things can truly become complicated and the moments hesitation when commenting on a disruptive topic can prove fatal, it certainly did in the case of Crown Heights circa 1991.  Of course if this were entirely dramatization one would be hesitant to embrace its masterful quality.  However, Smith does not simply adapt her own play by gleaning from accounts to create an ideal fictional appropriation, instead; she actually embodies the persons she interviewed, going so far as to use their exact words in her play and nothing more.  This seems to occur most successfully with the maternal figures, however, her portrayals of elderly Jewish rabbis and reluctant eyewitnesses are equally powerful and no less captivating  Finally, if this direct approach is not enough, the viewers is also provided with the repetition of images and film from the riots affirming its reality, even if they are watching a beautifully executed simulacrum of the original events.  In the films closing shot, prior to a montage of images, one cannot help but understand that at the root of all the political rage and racial hatred, very real loss occurred and to not give that a voice, even through a simple shot at close would be to do a terrible injustice.

This is a gripping and masterful work and I am ashamed to have gone this long without seeing it, and cannot urge you enough to watch it immediately, to do so, or to find out more information about Anna Deavere Smith, click on either of the images below:

I Saw Death Rising From The Earth: A Scanner Darkly (2006)

I recently stumbled upon the madness that is cultural outpour via Nerve.com, a decidedly counterculture forum.  I particularly enjoy some of their deeper delving into insanity through experimentation with over consuming various things, whether they be legal or illegal.  However, I as a cinephile and part-time film critic was particularly intrigued, and, subsequently, enraged by their various "ranked" listings, where they take it upon themselves to put things like director's films in chronological order.  It was one particular post titled Philip K. Dick Adaptations from Worst to Best that caught my attention.  I am no scholar of Dick's work and have not seen a considerable amount of the films mentioned, however, I have attested to my love of Blade Runner and quickly assumed that it would be this film that would easily steal the number one spot on the list...this was not the case.  The folks at Nerve.com went with A Scanner Darkly, a film I was familiar with, but had only seen clips of up until that point.  I was perplexed and decidedly upset by the choice, feeling as though the perfect Blade Runner had no business in any spot but first.  However, I knew that to truly affirm this statement I would need to watch A Scanner Darkly in its entirety and really synthesize it as a film before making a definitive statement.  So upon watching it I can say this, Blade Runner is still a considerably better film, but damn if A Scanner Darkly is not a menacing, dystopic piece of cinema that is deserved of high, high praise.  I am not entirely familiar with the book on which this is based, but looked it up and discovered it to be written in 1977, which is baffling, especially since watching it now, some seven years after its filmic release, I cannot help but consider how both prescient and ahead of its time the text really was and still is, particularly in its consideration of the maddening effects of drug culture on identity, self-respect and interactions between various persons consuming such psychologically altering substances.  Of course, I am aware that some of these reactions are a result of Richard Linklater's adaptation and filming, particularly his use of rotoscoping, to give it an otherworldly feel, while still touching dangerously close to reality, in fact, if one blurs or clouds their vision during the viewing, it suddenly becomes all too real and incredibly disconcerting.  The implication are heavy in this film and its stylized nature certainly attracts viewers, the message brilliant and while again not Blade Runner, certainly exists within the higher tiers of science fiction filmmaking.

A Scanner Darkly centers on a post-drug war America that finds itself in a heavily Orwellian state, one where phone calls are traced and video recordings invade even the most intimate of actions.  However, despite these intrusive technologies, drugs, nonetheless, manage to intrude into society, via various dealers and drug circles.  One drug, in particular, Substance D proves debilatating in its psychotic alterations, leading heavy users to suffer from split brain psychosis and intense and visceral paranoia.  As such the police force for Orange County invests in methods to destroy the trafficking of the drugs, using agent Bob Arctor (Keanu Reeves) to infiltrate a high-powered Substance D ring, involving the anarchistic, yet maddeningly militaristic Barris (Robert Downey, Jr.) and his stoner-like pal Ernie Luckman (Woody Harrelson).  Perhaps the groups most troublesome individual is Charles Freck (Rory Cochrane) whose addiction to Substance D, has all but entirely destroyed his mind.  As Arctor's involvement with the group heightens, so does his burgeoning friendship with the group, particularly one with sexual implications with a come-and-go guest in the house Donna (Winona Ryder).  It is during a day at work that Arctor is informed by his superior Hank, who, like Arctor wears a "scramble suit" which is a constantly shifting identity suit that makes the identification of their creator's form so rare that it only occurs about one in every million manifestations.  Needless to say, the double duty of attempting to continue to mask his presence as Arctor while also getting "closer" to breaking up the drug ring proves far too much to handle, only worsened by his continual use of Substance D, within the confines of his work.  He begins to become the subject of tests by the police psychiatrists, only to be told that his brain has now split and is beginning to work against itself.  It is one night, after a failed attempt at romance with Donna that Arctor's insanity splits and he finds himself seeing persons present in situations they are not present, which results in him being entirely pulled of the case where he was to investigate himself.  It is during his last "talk" with Hank that he realizes his boss may well be Donna undercover, leading to the final break from sanity, leading to his being placed in rehabilitation.  It is during his rehabilitation that he is sent to a farm to aid in "growing items," which is intercut with a scene of Donna, known, out of cover as Audrey, talking with a superior about his possible memories of a drug, which will allow him to hopefully undercover the truth that the farm using addicts from Substance D, is, in fact, the same place growing and harvesting the chemical.

The film is absolutely baffling and nearly incomprehensible on first examination, after all, it is Dick's very moving text that is both a cautionary tale against drug use, as well a work created to pay homage to his friends whose lives were invariably damaged by the drugs of the era.  It is perhaps this framework that makes the narrative so complex, because Linklater's adaptation makes it clear that it neither condemns nor praises those involved in drug use.  In fact, it shows the layers of dependency and paranoia that emerge as a result of such engagements.  For example, Barris is always spouting ideas about being watched by the government and being steps away from getting narc'ed out.  This would be illogical in most film settings, but this is the entire narrative of the film, Barris is continually in contact with a friend who is essentially awaiting a moment to bust him for his use and distribution of Substance D.  Furthermore, Arctor's misery seems to stem from his concern that he is alienated from the society around him, believing that the performances he puts on are meaningless, because what results is his failure to earnestly connect with any one on an earnest level.  The irony extends itself when one considers that, as part of his job, he must wear a suit that continually alters his identity, so much so that he is never himself, but on the rarest of occasions.  Tragedy, emerges then when he does seem to have a moment of genuine connection between another person only to be denied that pleasure, when she claims to be too involved in drugs, but what proves to be the likely alternative is that she knows engaging with him could destroy the larger plan to exploit him to attack the drug producers down the line.  In fact, Arctor is even told that he is insane, leading to his questioning every action, even the moment when he does realize that Hank, is indeed Audrey/Donna he is so unstable that to question it would be to affirm his own fall into psychological instability.  The result, of all this, I would suggest is not to condemn the drug users for their eventual fall out, but instead, to critique the nature of drug trafficking, both in its indifference to those it hurts, as well as the way in which the government uses it to their advantage in one moment, only to turn their heads and condemn it in another breath.

Key Scene:  The moment when Arctor catches a glimpse of Donna in the scramble suit is so built up and delivered with such succinct certainty that it is hard not to be completely blown away by its occurrence.

The bluray is phenomenal.  Show Dick and Linklater some love and grab a copy.

I Got A Black Belt In Barstoolin': Foxy Brown (1974)

I would have been quite foolish to have gone the entire month without including a film from the blaxploitation explosion which occurred in American film during the 1970's, particularly, since the genre is full of some rather intriguing and unusual depictions of women, in some cases quite problematic, however, on occasion the women who possess spaces in these films did so with such a degree of authority and strength that they would become symbols of power and pride for women, particularly those of color, for decades to follow, and even be remade in loving homage by Quentin Tarantino.  At least this is the case for Jack Hill's 1974 blaxploitation classic Foxy Brown, which is a funky, fresh and absolutely thrilling look at the effect on drugs and urban black populations in the seventies.  Of course, sticking it to the man and promoting a drug-free culture within the African-American community was nothing new to blaxploitation films thematically and the idea was certainly not uncommon within the political debates occurring in urban communities during the era, however, one cannot ignore the masterful and, admittedly, awesome ways in which this rather run of the mill story unfolds in the world of Foxy Brown.  Like many of the era's classics, it is rife with some terrible acting and some of the most haphazard editing techniques ever comitted to film, which have come to signify some of the more negative elements of the genre, yet, it is also a film with an excellent soundtrack, some fun over-the-top fighting scenes and enough interracial relationships to make CPAC and the American Family Association go up in arms.  These are, obviously, the things that have made these low-budget urban flicks last and remain cinematically relevant.  Foxy Brown is an exception to its counterparts, with its strong and sensual female lead who is unarguably victim to the male gaze and cinematic objectification, yet her existence and abrasive confrontational attitude stand to confront this objectification head on, making Foxy Brown a girl of revolutionary means both cinematically, socially and historically all at once.

Foxy Brown, surprisingly enough, does indeed focus on a woman named Foxy Brown (Pam Grier) a black woman who seems to have it hard enough navigating the unwelcoming world around her, especially after her boyfriend became a victim of assault for working undercover to bust drug trafficking.  Even when he returns to society, it is as a new man, undergoing plastic surgery to change his alias.  Things seem to be great between Foxy and the new version of her boyfriend, yet her wily brother Link (Antonio Fargas) finds himself tied deeply into drugs himself both as a user and a dealer and quickly becomes financially indebted to the wrong people.  Realizing that Foxy's new lover is indeed the old narcotics officer, he rats him out for his own safety, leading to his murder.  This illogical murder and death of her lover, which has now essentially occurred twice, leads Foxy into a decided mode of revenge, in which, she seeks out all those involved in the wicked trade beginning with the lowly henchmen and working her way up to the druglords.  Along the way she meets an group of terrible, mostly white, people who find her foolish attempts, at the most humorous, always standing in her way, whether it be the simultaneously suave and gross Steve Elias (Peter Brown) who takes a sexual interest in Foxy, yet cannot remove himself from his oppressive state as a higher up in the drug trafficking.  Foxy also comes into contact, multiple times, with a woman named Katherine Wall (Kathryn Loder) who sees Foxy not only as a threat to the success of her brothel/drug ring, but her own power at a sexual figure as well.  After making quick work of everyone from the drug pushers to high-end politicians, Foxy finds herself at the point in which she must destroy the drug distributors at the root, and she recruits the help of her local Neighborhood Justice Comittee to end the terrible engagements.  This, of course, involves a ton of guns and shootouts, but Foxy eventually obtains what she wants, both justice for the wrongs exacted by drug dealers, as well as revenge for the people who were directly involved in the murder of her lover.  Despite being sexually objectified, beaten and forced to take heroin, Foxy moves from the situation a bigger and more threatening, not to mention enlightened woman.

So many a critics, particularly with a feminist lens in mind, have dismissed this film, and many other of the era for their heavy use of nudity and the naked female form, for what seem to be inexplicable moments.  I get this reading, trust me it is a film far from being void of problems, however, where I want to draw the line with a film like this is its distinct use of metaphor and message.  The body of Foxy is exploited and objectified, not for the sake of male gaze in a cinematic sense, but as a very real call to attention of these issues occurring on a large scale, especially within the urban community.  The film rejects the notion of black women as being highly-sexualized, in fact, Foxy inverts this notion and uses the bigotry to her advantage, playing up on this assumed sexuality to get a politician caught in a controversial act.  Similarly, the idea that the black woman is to reside in the back ground to the black male political cause is also rejected within the film, it is Foxy who saves her brother, and while she does require the help of a group of black men to, ultimately, take down the drug dealers, it is her image of empowered black woman that ends the film, leaving no question as to where she stands in relationship to the rest of her community.  However, what I think puts many theorists up in arms, is a scene depicting Foxy fighting a group of white, lesbian women in a dive bar.  They find her presence problematic and not entirely welcome, and one might anachronistically read this as a division of women, yet, one must remember that the film was released in 1974, at this point in time the National Organization for Women was still predominantly white women, and only two years earlier when Shirley Chisholm ran for president, NOW back a white male, to avoid the fears of losing in supporting a black woman.  It is a film of layers, to read into the nudity is a necessary one, without question, however, it extends to something much larger and more revolutionary.  Foxy is a woman, one of color and she fights against the man, which evolves far beyond the simple assumptions of rich white male wealth, essentially, this is a key moment in analyzing intersectionality, far before it became socially and theoretically acceptable to do so.

Key Scene:  The bar scene is everything one could want from a blaxploitation film in all its cheesy, yet awesome glory.

This film is super cheap, I do not foresee a bluray version coming out anytime soon, therefore, a DVD copy will suffice.

Noodles Are Synergetic Things: Tampopo (1985)

In many instances a film has a reputation that precedes itself, often getting mentioned within circles of those in the "cinematic know" if you will.  These movies are exceptional and for many reasons fail to make it into the traditional top 100 film lists that flood a burgeoning cinephiles exploration.  For a long time one such film for me was that of Charles Laughton's The Night of the Hunter, easily one of the greatest achievements in cinema, despite for some time only being witnessed by a handful of film students, becoming an excellent reference in one of my favorite films of all time.  Other films, like House becoming a point of reference due to their sheer inconceivability, while also being a thoroughly enjoyable film.  It is perfectly balanced between these two lines that we find a film like Juzo Itami's Tampopo, with its surrealist concern for deconstructed linear narrative being paired so well with classicist cinematic stylings.  I would venture to say that Tampopo in all its zany and incomparable antics exists with such a concern for the sensory that it is much like the food varied and depicted throughout.  Where my uncertainty with something like Tampopo lies is when describing its cinematic intentions, considering that it manages to be both a light-hearted pseudo-romantic comedy, while also being a biting critique of the effects of patriarchal tradition and Western influences on a Japan, that at the time, was still attempting to assure its grounding on a global scale.  The film also exists within the realm of the meta, allowing for viewer to become engaged with a drawn out depiction of urban Japan, while also considering the very intimate experiences of a somewhat definable protagonist, or in this case group of protagonists, yet the late Itami is careful not to leave too much certainty with any character, often taking the the viewer's assumptions averting and reverting them throughout.  Tampopo is a film that could be viewed differently and rewardingly every time, always changing and hopefully evolving, not much different than the way one's tastes change from youth to old age.

Tampopo begins with a direct addressing to the audience by a sly and aggressive Yakuza member simply referred to as Man In The White Suit (Koji Yakusho) who demands that all those viewing the film should avoid eating during the movie, as not to cause teh narrative to become inaudible over crunching and mastication, of course, this man will reappear throughout the narrative, apparently existing within and outside of the cinematic space simultaneously.  Other minor stories fill in the blanks, whether they be the Man and his erotic consumption of food with his lover, or a set of Japanese business man looking perplexed at the menu in a French restaurant, only to be educated by a younger member.  Yet another narrative focuses on the false notions of Western eating etiquette, while yet another considers an old woman entering a gourmet shop only to squeeze and destroy various foods much to the chagrin of the employee on duty.  However, the larger narrative focuses on milk truck drivers Goro (Tsutomo Yamazaki) and Gun (Ken Watanabe) who decide to stop into a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop after a night of driving and reading about the art of noodle eating.  However, the shop they decide to stop in is run by the widowed Tampopo (Nobuko Miyamoto) whose lack of a husband as a guide has led to her flailing business, as well as a disconnection from her son who is repeatedly bullied at school.  Tampopo is not void of her own dealing with tough individuals and is confronted constantly by the drunk Pisuken (Rikia Yasuoka).  Goro attempts to divert the aggression of Pisuken only to be beat up in the process, leading to his being awoken the next day by Tampopo to food and a frank discussion of her inability to cook noodles.  Realizing the truth in his statement Tampopo begs Goro to help her excel at the craft, something he agrees to wholeheartedly, thus beginning their journey through the Japanese urban landscape to create a hybrid of all the secrets relating to the art of noodle cooking.  This journey takes Tampopo, Goro and a variety of other characters from the world of Japanese decadence to the slums of the city, each providing a necessary element to the larger art of running a noodle shop.  in the process Tampopo and Goro become romantically involved, Tampopo's son confronts his bullies and even Pisuken comes around to joining the cause, making an assumed success out of a once flailing business.  The film then closes on a shot that suggests that the love of consumption starts at an incredibly young age.

Tampopo runs in the same vein as a Monty Python sketch film, say Meaning of Life to be exact, but manages to somehow carry the philosophical and political levity of something like Godard's Weekend.  I absolutely loved Tampopo as a piece of cinema and want to make note of some of its more clever social critiques, however, I was by no means blinded by some of its egregious issues, for which I plan to mention as well.  Firstly, Tampopo is a film expressly concerned with intersectionality, whether various intersections allow for one to gain or lose respect in a society.  For example, it is not only a point of failure that Tampopo's son is of a lower-class status, but his lack of a paternal figure causes him to be ridiculed as well.  In opposition, would be somebody from the group of businessmen eating French cuisine, so involved in their world of masculine, wealthy privilege that they completely ignore Goro and Tampopo on the street, nearly trampling them in the process.  Even in this privilege, however, the group refuses to acknowledge ignorance, or in this case their own "otherness" in regards to a Western ideal, blindly following one of the groups orders for salad, soup and a beer.  The film also takes note to mention the idea that enlightenment and knowledge are not synonymous with wealth or power, especially considering that the homeless individuals are much more finely tuned to the niceties of life than any other character, white suit donning Yakuza excluded.  Finally, the film also considers the tragedy related to aging in East Asian countries and the manner with which elderly individuals are relegated to the corners of society, something just addressed in Ann Hui's A Simple Life a film I blogged about last week.  In fact, the only real failing of identities within Tampopo appears to come with the title character herself, while it is great that she is able to find her place in a mad urban landscape, the narrative does suggest that she is only able to do so with the help of a bevy of masculine figures, completely discounting the earnest efforts she has made, while also adhering to every domestic role imaginable.  Essentially she is both housewife and breadwinner and the narrative seems hesitant to make note of this fact, although, its closing does seem to suggest that all power comes from the feminine, so a complete dismissal is far from appropriate.

Key Scene:  There is an excellent homage to Chaplin about midway through the film that is hilarious and poetic in its simplicity, and proves to be one of many highlights in the stellar work.

This is a must own for anybody who enjoys cinema and while it is certainly not the cheapest thing ever it will prove a great investment for years to come.

Where Is Your Male Driven, Fact-Based Logic Now?: Red Eye (2005)

I am enjoying the recent string of thriller/horror films I have been encountering, in so much as quite a few have proven to be rather incredible pieces of social commentary and genuinely enjoyable genre works.  More so, viewing quite a few of the movies have been in an attempt to expand my film consumption to more middle-of-the-road works that I had dismissed upon initial release based on either their trailer or assumedly lackluster premise.  Red Eye was certainly a movie that I scoffed at upon its initial introduction, a vague trailer about plane hijacking and a then unknown to me actor named Cillian Murphy simply did not prove enough to make a, then film illiterate, teen venture to undertake the film.  However, as I have come to appreciate both the theoretical approaches, as well as the means by which films are created, I must admit that I was quite enthralled by Wes Craven's surprisingly non-violent horror film.  To be honest, it is nowhere near a perfect film and certainly suffers from some wishy-washy performances, mostly on the part of Rachel McAdams and clearly has some plot gaps in an effort to make it a quick fix thriller, but the creation of tension within a small amount of space for more than a half of the film.  I have also been quite unfamiliar with how to conceptualize what is becoming an extensive field of post-9/11 cinema discussions, most of which center on disaster and horror films, Cloverfield being perhaps the most notable example.  I mean to say that as a film Red Eye works in the collective memory of viewers who have a particular concern for depictions of terrorist attacks, especially those centered around flying.  Of course this is not the only extent to which something exists within the post-9/11 framework, but I will elaborate on that in a bit.  Regardless of how one discusses Red Eye theoretically or critically, it is nearly impossible to discount how solid of a thriller it proves to be by combining some of the traditional methods of horror/thriller filmmaking along with just enough of an espionage twist to provide for a film that is as fresh now as it was almost a decade earlier.

Red Eye begins with the act of a wallet unassumingly being moved from a dresser drawer, quite ineffectually, before viewers are introduced to Lisa Reisert (Rachel McAdams) a headstrong hotel manager, who knows the ins-and-outs of working in the customer service industry so much so that she is able to guide her seemingly inept employee through dealing with particularly unruly customers while also reeling in the emotions from recently attending her grandmothers funeral.  Meanwhile Lisa is subject to the constant inquiries and concerns of her loving father Joe (Brian Cox) as he knows she is under heavy amounts of stress both from her recent loss, as well as the preparing for a big name political guest.  The addition of plane delays only add to her headache and all seems quite set for a spiral into emotional insanity, until a man named Jack (Cillian Murphy) appears.  Jack's natural charm and seeming ability to predict Lisa's every concern and hesitation causes her to spring at the opportunity to seek solace in his lack of frustration.  While they simply share a bit of chatter over drinks at the airport bar, it is not until Lisa realizes that they will be sitting next to one another on the flight that she feels the connection to be more than a coincidence.  Jack continues his charm well onto their flight, but once they reach an altitude were landing is out of the question, Jack's persona takes a dark turn as he reveals that he has been stalking Lisa in order to blackmail her into moving the high profile guest into another room of her apartment allowing his fellow hired hands to kill him for big name clients.  The narrative then moves into Lisa and Jack's battle for the safety of the guest, as well as Lisa's father who is being carefully watched by another hitman prepared to kill him if she fails to adhere to Jack's demands.  Quick wits and determination allow for Lisa to escape from Jack when the plane lands, as well as allowing for her guest to avoid death, but she is not free of Jack quite yet as his desire to succeed at his job is superseded by revenge, although with the help of her father, Lisa is able to get the best of the insane man and return to her job, however, her ways of dealing with unruly customers are certifiably different.

What then makes Red Eye a specifically post-9/11 thriller aside from the obvious ties to airplanes and the threat of political terrorism, well, in order, to really conceptualize this we must first consider how Craven formulates characters within the narrative, primarily Lisa who is the protagonist within Red Eye.  It is no accident that she is returning from a funeral at the films beginning a indirect reminder of the deaths occurring on that tragic day, yet she is also attached to various psychiatric consultations and forms of depression, initially suggested by her father and reaffirmed by Jack who mentions her relationship with psychiatrist, while not directly mentioned this could have a post-traumatic element about it, in so much as it is a character attempting to deal with the irrationalities of her existence against an illogical humanity that could in her case be so cold and distancing, but also so inhumane as to blow up buildings.  The various persons on the plane as well as some of her hotel's customers help to reconsider the face of America in the wake of the terrorist attacks, particularly the means by which frustration, paranoia and a general concern for escapism emerge within the parts of the narrative focusing on the airport and the airplane.  Hell, even the flight attendants make comments about their self-identies and their projected social identity with heavy post-9/11 implications.  However, the largest element that can be drawn from this ideology emerges through the reasons for Jack's violent actions, for  a better portion of the film they revolve around financial gain, although even he is unsure why a political figure would need to be murdered, he simply understands there is profit to be made in volunteering to assure its execution.  The factual nature of the desired acts, without a theoretical framework for doing so certainly emerges within a post-9/11 discourse considering that America was well aware that they needed to exact revenge upon their wrong doers, yet were not sure of were exactly to do so, nor how to best achieve this, leading to a series of financially heavy actions with a mixed bag of results.  Finally, it is no accident that the attempted assassination is directed at a whole family, invoking an American ideal in the process, not to mention the Russian mercenaries engaging in said assassination attempt, using a RPG of all things.  I have yet to do any formal research on post-9/11 film theory, as I am sure this post shows, but I just wanted to conceptualize some of its points as they seemed fit to Red Eye in a multitude of ways.

Key Scene:  The tension in the power outage scene on the airplane is palpable and certainly not the only emotionally heavy moment in the film, which again relies so little on heavy violence to get viewers anticipations heightened.

This is a cheap pickup on DVD and at the moment no bluray appears to exist, nonetheless, it is a solid fixture in any collection, either well-established or burgeoning, and like so many reviews seem to agree, do not trust the trailer for this film, it completely fails to sell what your really receive with this excellent work.

There Cannot Be True Despair Without Hope: The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

So I am admittedly pretty late to this film as far as the blogging game is concerned, considering that pretty much ever non-classical oriented blog I follow touched upon this film within days of its release.  I am also open in not being entirely thrilled with Christopher Nolan as a director, although I am more than willing to offer him praise for his cinematic grandiosity and willingness to try for something big every time, more than a few of my friends and fellow cinephiles are remiss to even offer him that much praise.  The Dark Knight has become somewhat of a cult film, not that it was lacking a huge acclaim, but the death of Heath Ledger seems to have cemented it as a bit transcendent of traditional film criticisms and considerations, not very different from what James Dean's death has seemed to do for Rebel Without A Cause.  The Dark Knight Rises, thus had some rather incredible expectations to film, mostly revolving around a demand that the villian prove equatable or grander than that of Ledger's Joker, a task that was doomed from the start, considering that on paper and in performance The Joker at least relating to The Dark Knight truly is something rare in cinema, on the same level as your Tyler Durden's and your Monsieur Hulot's all be it in a different genre and via a different manifestation.  Detached from all I know about this trilogy and my own personal relationship with the films of Christopher Nolan I am not entirely opposed to what viewers are given in what is assumedly the final installment for this particular manifestation of "The Batman."  Sure it suffers from some plot cohesion throughout and certainly throws special effects and the tools of melodrama into those voids, but the exceptional acting on the part of all involved, not to mention Tom Hardy who gives a performance equal to that of Heath Ledger, even if the awful choice for Bane's voice manages to throw it off a bit.  The film, even if Nolan denies its validity, invariably focuses on a heavy bit of political rhetoric and goes a long way to show that just because a film engages with a large viewership does not necessarily mean that it needs to dumb its material down or offer traditional roles.

So where does this particular installation of The Dark Knight Trilogy pick up, well we are shown a Gotham City still reeling from the loss of their long deceased knight in shining armor political figure Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), while the city seems on the verge of complete cleanup from criminal activity, even if Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman) seems to demand a cautious eye be kept on the streets.  Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) has decided against retaining his role of Batman, primarily because the alias has become the scapegoat for Dent's death, instead; living a life as a recluse and fending off attempted robberies by a catlike female burglar named Selena (Anne Hathaway).  Meanwhile Bruce Wayne's shrinking wealth has lead to the freezing of funds towards an orphanages where Officer Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt)  a "hotheaded" policeman found shelter as a child, leading him to come into the world of Wayne Enterprises, which also happens to be the company at odds with tycoon Daggett (Ben Mendelshon) seems rearing to overtake, going so far as to request the help of superhuman escaped convict Bane (Tom Hardy) in his endeavors.  Bane, however, has his own set of plans which involve breaking Batman and his place of power in Gotham City, in the process attempting to return power to the hands of its people, in a marshall law form of political and societal rule. While the narrative deals with these emerging issues, as well as Officer Blake's attempts to find his own identity within his role as law enforcer, Bruce Wayne struggles with how best to reemerge as The Batman, especially since to do so assures his being apprehended by law enforcement.  Eventually, though the aid of Selena, who by now is clearly to be Catwoman, he is able to encounter Bane, who does indeed break Wayne's back and locks him at the bottom of a prison, from where he escaped by climbing out of after some time.  Upon emergence from the prison, Wayne returns to full-on Batman mode coming to the point of having Bane in his death grips only to discover that the true enemy was much closer at hand than even he realized.  Bane and his group have managed to set a large scale nuclear bomb to explode in the city and it is up to Batman to sacrifice himself to assure its detonation far from Gotham City, a task that leads to his assumed death, but if the closing moments of the film suggest anything, his legacy is far from over.

I could afford this portion of my post to discussing the political elements of The Dark Knight Rises, but this seems to be a considerably contentious ground to cross and the readings I would favor have been done to a heavy degree, although I was rather fond of this one, even though I am not entirely committed to the more Christian inclined elements of the argument.  Instead, however, I want to consider the philosophy of despair and notions of imprisonment that seem to help manifest the character of Bane, who is half-Nietzche and half-Camus in his rhetoric.  The notions of hope and despair, at least in the way Bane visualizes them seem straight out of the texts of Beyond Good and Evil, in so much that he seems to suggest for good to exist there must also be bad and vice versa, except Bane applies these ideas directly to finding a way to maneuver through darkness, something he believes Batman has taken for granted, yet he also shows Batman that it is his own ties to the light (i.e. goodness) that seem to make him so susceptible to weakness, clearly making specific reference to his deep loss earlier in life, as well as years earlier with the loss of his love interest.  Bane too is interesting because he seems to thrive off of despair, yet one cannot ignore that he lives within a exoskeleton that helps him ignore physical pain on a large scale, thus freeing his mind to deal with his own existential woes, ones transcendent of the physical.  As for the notion of climbing out of a seemingly inescapable prison one cannot help but consider Camus' Myth of Sisyphus in where a man is cursed to push a boulder up and down between two hills for eternity never achieving any progress.  The climb out of this prison proves similar not in that it results in Wayne's being returned to the bottom, but that he realizes that the prison is only a small scale of the climb that he must make within Gotham City or even his own personal life, something that is endless, until it is of course interrupted by "death."  The prison too does help to conceptualize Nietzsche in that it creates an oppressed group of lesser "bad" individuals who are separated from the good and suppressed not through the panoptic gaze of traditional prison setups but through their assumption that their is some good in the world, yet their badness makes it out of reach and only an impossible vision to obtain.  This assumption of obtaining goodness/freedom is enough to keep most prisoners dwelling at its bottom, although when an individual does break out it proves, as is the case with The Dark Knight Rises, to completely throw notions of darkness and light into complete chaos.  Mind you this film is nearly three hours long so my apologies for missing any major key points in my brief synopsis.

Key Scene:  As over-claimed as it may be, the football stadium scene is so cinematic and surprisingly detached for most moments from either Bane or Batman that it almost seems out of place in the film.  Yet, certain statements and events bring viewers back to its very real attachment to Gotham City.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable film and hopefully a praiseworthy completion to a sound trilogy.  Of course, we cannot be for sure where this particular vision of the franchise will go as the ending opened up possibilities for Robin becoming a fixture of Gotham City as seen by Nolan.  Rent it or buy it depending on your preference for blockbuster films.

No Man Is A Failure Who Has Friends: It's A Wonderful Life (1946)

When people start talking about the "best" films for various occasions, themes and genres debate immediately arises as to what one uses to define each situation, particularly when such categories engage in multiple decades.  However, when it comes to debates about the best Christmas film of all time it seems nearly universal that people believe Frank Capra's It's A Wonderful Life to be heads above any of its competition, a surprisingly interesting phenomenon to emerge, considering that it is hardly a movie solely centered on Christmas time and, further, it has such a heavy element of darkness and sadness that one would be hard pressed to play it without concerns for shedding a tear or two.  However, after having the great opportunity to see an high definition transfer of this seminal work, I am more than willing to give all the credit to this film for its general well-regard.  Of course, It's A Wonderful Life certainly exists within a history of cinema which was incredibly exclusive, focusing primarily on a white middle class society, with a male at its helm.  Yet, the inherent likability of Jimmy Stewart, paired with a narrative so simple and direct that viewers nearly have it ingrained in their memories from birth, making for a film which causes generations to pass its perfection on from one age to another.  Seeing this film now, for the first time since childhood, also allowed me to appreciate some of the more experimental and revolutionary elements of a film that I figured to be wholly melodramatic, whether it be the fade from grey to blurry to normal picture as we are introduced to George Bailey for the first time, or the talking stars bit...something seemingly more appropriate for Night of the Hunter.  Also, for as oft quoted as the bit about bells and wings has become, I was surprised by how little of the narrative centers on the famous scene.  Essentially, viewers are provided with one of the greatest single character studies in the history of film, so directly focused on understanding the intricacies of human suffering and sacrifice, without engaging in any level of pretentious preachiness.  Even the latent Christian elements of the film appear to take a back seat to karma like understanding of human existence.

The story of It's A Wonderful Life is extravagantly simple, we are dropped in medias res on the town of Bedford Falls praying for the well-being of George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart), who from what the film suggests is suffering from a bit of bad luck.  Quickly viewers are transferred an image of the cosmos as spectral stars discuss a means by which to save the ailing George who is about to commit suicide, agreeing to send an angel in need of wings named Clarence (Henry Travers), the film through the angels begins to recount the experiences of George, in an attempt to explain why he has been driven to the point of seriously considering the end of his life.  Beginning with a moment in which he saves his younger brother in a sledding accident to only lose hearing in his ear, we are shown a hard-willed George who is also incredibly self-sacrificing when his actions assure that others will be aided.  Progressing at a perfect pace through George's growing older we are led to believe that George has given up aspirations of world travel in order to help maintain his father's business, save his town from being bought out by the terrible capitalist Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore), or assuring for the comfort and well being of his wife Mary (Donna Reed) and their children.  Yet even after these varied forms of sacrifice, a bit of trouble financially on Christmas Eve and an accidental misplacement of money by his uncle at which he risks losing everything causes him to toss away hope and stand on the local bridge with thoughts of ending it all.  However, when a loud splash is heard, George jumps to the rescue of none other than Clarence, who explains openly that he is an angel and after George exclaims that he wishes he had never been born, provides him with such an experience, one in which all his friends are miserable under the ruthless and greedy hands of Mr. Potter.  Taking joy in realizing that even in this moment of misery that he has helped countless members of his community, George pleads to return to his life, one which leads to his return home to the open arms of his family and the monetary support of an entire community, George realizes that his unquestioning willingness to help others has proven more bountiful than he could have imagined.

As the young Woody Allenesque theater manager at my local theater suggested when introducing the film, viewers are led to seriously consider what "a wonderful life" truly is while watching this film, which is certainly true, but such a reading is far too simple since the film makes it quite clear that it is going to undermine capitalist desires and American individualism within nearly every scene, at times even vilifying its existence via Mr. Potter.  Instead, I really think the film, despite its latent Christian metaphors and imagery, asks viewers to consider, at the very least, the philosophy they use to engage with daily life, one that is not centered in materialistic obsessions in the slightest.  While George Bailey certainly does not find himself void of physical desires, particularly in his younger years, he is not obsessed with money or physical signifiers of success like his brother, business patrons or even his wife at times, but instead his own happiness, which proves far to intertwined with the happiness of others.   This approach to the world is nearly identical the that of a zen buddhist, in so much as he often tosses away worldly desires with the hopes of making sure others are comfortable, while also engaging in some seriously positive karma.  One could see him as a fool for such actions, but that would suggest that he engages in them with assumptions that he will receive compensation at some point, however, it is clear from the onset that he offers help out of earnest, not out of ulterior objectives.  Of course, one cannot completely ignore the Christian elements to George, as he is exceptionally Christlike in his endeavors.  Of course, George's form of Christianity is a far cry from the nonsense and bigotry seemingly tied to so many contemporary sects of this particular belief system.  While I am not a Christian myself, I would make a strong case that It's A Wonderful Life exists as a transcendent example of exemplary behavior both in a religious and social context.

Key Scene:  The world without George scenes are stellar and really become more intense of the big screen, culminating in a moment where Jimmy Stewart's scare visage consumes the screen...I felt my heart leap considerably.

So apparently this film comes on television some 300 plus times a year.  Watch it at any point, although it is a bit mesmerizing on the big screen and well worth watching in that context if possible.