This Kid Is Flat Out Magic: Speed Racer (2008)

I will preface this review by noting that I once dressed as Speed Racer for a costume during career day in high school.  This will assuredly make my reactions to all things relating to the franchise particularly notable, especially something like a live action remake of the film.  I will admit that I was wholly aware of this film when it came out in 2008, but purposefully avoided seeing it because at the time I did not want my nostalgia, and frankly, still rooted adoration for the film negated in any serious way.  I had been told, prior to getting into the film that this was not good by the general film going public who were assumedly expecting something in line with The Wachowski's other works prior, such as The Matrix and V for Vendetta.  I admit that Speed Racer, in its seizure-inducing visual styles and seismic like pacing, is a far cry from the previously mentioned films, but when it comes to a directing duo such as Andy and Lana Wachowski repetition is simply not a thing of interest.  Speed Racer was critiqued for not appropriating the franchise and was dismissed as being all thriller with absolutely no filler.  I find both of these accusations to be indicative on individual critical lenses that cannot accept that the film is managing to do both of these things in such a synchronized way as to completely move beyond a space of live action remake to a complete revisioning of the world of Speed Racer.  Between a noted choice to create a cyberspace for the world, one that incorporates CGI graphics with a very early pixelated look and the after effects added to many of the motions undertaken by the character it is a noted shame that Speed Racer did not receive a greater degree of praise for its absolutely thrilling use of special effects.  The Wachoswki's clearly took their source material to heart and managed to create something that was both true to the material as well as infused with their own cinematic points of interest, the delightful uses of kung fu in the film being a great example of just this occurrence.  Indeed, Speed Racer the film is not the cartoon, because as a live action film it cannot perfectly recreate that which does not exist in the real.  Between the vibrant colors, purposefully measured acting of the performers and a keen eye for narrative scope, Speed Racer gets as close to the cartoon as possible without relying on cel animation to exist.

Speed Racer focuses on the title character of Speed (Emile Hirsch) who is a member of the independent racing family The Racer's.  While Speed has become the new hope for racing in the family he is living under the shadow of his late older brother Rex (Scott Porter) who died in a car crash much to the sadness of his father Pops (John Goodman) and Mom (Susan Sarandon).  Nonetheless, Speed proves from a young age that he is simply tied to racing, therefore, spending his days becoming better at the sport, letting it even invade his dreams.  Supporting Speed are the other members of his family Sprite (Paulie Litt) and a pet monkey Chim Chim (Willy and Kenzie), alongside Sparky (Kick Curry) the Racer's mechanic and Speed's girlfriend Trixie (Christina Ricci).  When Speed makes a name for himself during a big race, he becomes the object of affection for various racing companies, including the corporate power figure Royalton (Roger Allam).  Despite being offered lavish goods and the highest training, Speed refuses to join the Royalton racing team, thus leading to him becoming a target of the other drivers who are part of a fixing scheme that is affecting the professional racing circuit.  Approached by the enigmatic and stoic Racer X (Matthew Fox) in unison with Inspector Detector (Benno Fürmann) Speed is asked to help create a team that will directly counter the corruption in the sport.  Although initially hesitant, Speed agrees to join when another racer Taejo Togokahn (Rain) also joins forces with him and X.  Unfortunatley, during the race it is revealed that Taejo is under the strings of a larger corporate scam, leaving Speed no choice but to enter into a highly contestable race and prove that he is not only the best racer in the circuit, but that he can achieve victory without playing into the scheme of fixed matches.  After the affirmation of Racer X, who Speed believes to be his deceased brother, Speed takes on the greatest racers in the industry and even manages to catch one of them in the process of cheating.  In victory, Speed ushers in a new era of racing where skill and compassion trump deception and wealth.

If this were any other filmmakers work, I would be inclined to read the narrative on a very cursory level, completely overlooking the possibility of gender politics, ethics and even religion at play in the film.  The Wachowski's however, are not any other filmmakers, and whether it be their masterpiece The Matrix, or their more contentious recent film with Tom Twyker Cloud Atlas it is certain that they take narrative to be something that works on layers and pulls from various sources to create its details.  Speed Racer is a lengthy movie considering its subject matter and potential intended audience, but it is very much in this length that the film can be discussed for its use, or lack thereof, of linear narrative to create identity and empathy in a film.  It would be simple to read this as a film about Speed Racer coming into his place as the future of a name in racing and it is very much that, however, the layers of performing the part of prodigal son, unwilling patriarch and thing of spectacle all emerge within the fantastical frenzy of the film.  The way figures move throughout the film in a layered, free floating manner suggests that as much as the narrative is decidedly predicated upon the decisions and actions of Speed, it is also in unison and constant engagement with the other figures in his life, both those incredibly close to him like Trixie and those almost wholly detached, such as the announcers whose voices and visages emerge in as almost a high a frequency as the main characters.  This all coalesces to suggest that every motion or action is in regards to a layer of contingent events that if altered even in the slightest could change the entirety of the narrative.  For example, Racer X knows that by revealing his identity to Speed in a very real sense could prove the very change that would minimally alter his ability to win the Grand Prix.  In a more cinematic and metaphorical level, Speed while still a good sport, nonetheless, has to learn that the best way to win a raise is not to be straightforward from beginning to end, but does require navigating outside the boundaries of the track, because these spaces are of equal importance to his advancement.  It is when he must use the Mach 5 to climb the side of the mountain, in the process skipping a section of the track, that he moves into a new space.  The Speed that is capable of unquestioned victory learns that linearity is futile, when those around are willing to help and hinder such progression, even if in an accidental manner.

Key Scene:  The outdoor kung fu fight is an excellent aside, in a film that is for all intents and purposes about race car driving.

This film is without a doubt one of the most underrated films of the past decade, alongside the other Wachowski work Cloud Atlas.  It pops of the screen and demands a bluray purchase unlike any other film.

Fortune Is Allied To The Brave: Clash Of The Titans (1981)

I am riding the wave of repetitive blog posts in the New Year!  While it was not a goal of mine to compose a single blog for every day of the year,  as conferences and school will, undoubtedly, get in the way, I am currently afforded plenty of free time and know that there is little excuse as to not make an earnest endeavor to tackle this possibility.  I am also plowing through movies at a fast rate and figured that reflecting on at least one a day would be beneficial.  As such, viewing Clash of the Titans yesterday proved to be the most promising blog post, not because it was in any way the best viewing experience of the day, but more so because it offered me the best chance to navigate a theoretical framework, this one inspired by existentialism, a near and dear philosophical framework of mine that I have become far too detached from in recent years.  Clash of the Titans is a film that has become adored some three decades later not for it being a particularly key narrative offering in the fantasy genre--the middle portion actually drags quite a bit--but has been noted for its interesting use of claymation in a moment when special effects were still moving into the world of CGI, but not completely feasible.  Works like this and Repo Man attempted audacious things with lesser special effects forms and in both cases excel at this incredibly.  What manages to make Clash of the Titans that much more enjoyable is the variety of noted performers who offer their services to the narrative, whether they be the likes of Maggie Smith who would have still been establishing herself as an actress, or the more prolific performances by the great Laurence Olivier and star of the most adored of Twilight Zone episodes Burgess Meredith.  Hell, this film even includes Ursula Andress in a non-Dr. No role which is also a nice thing to see, as she has become unfairly attached to that film.  Clash of the Titans, at first glance, would appear to be a very childish narrative with the special effects magic to reinforce such notions, yet as the narrative unfolds and ethical boundaries become crossed, it becomes rather evident that not only is this a tale with enough tragedy and happenstance to prove quite adult in its scope, it is also a film that considers whether or not the presence of a divine force is truly a blessing, or if the bizarre workings of the natural world are simply out to get even the most well-intentioned of persons.

The Clash of the Titans focus on the deliberations and defiances between the gods of antiquity as the plan to move for power with their respective mortal beings, some of which are through divine ordination their offsprings.  Zeus (Laurence Olivier) in particular is concerned with the well being of his own child Perseus (Harry Hamlin) who is but a small child who has been banished alongside his mother to a remote island to live out his days, an act undertaken by Thetis (Maggie Smith) who has allowed for her own earthy child Calibos (Neil McCarthy) to run wild and act in the most vile of manners.  As such, Zeus with his infinite power has turned the evil Calibos into a figure that properly reflects his own terrible actions.  In a vengeful act, Thetis relocates the young Perseus to a remote island where he is to fend for himself, while attempting to reclaim the kingdom an act which is predicated upon him achieving the affections of a young princess, as well as returning the head of Medusa to a city.  If Perseus fails to achieve this task, Zeus and Thetis come to an agreement that he will release the monstrous Kraken upon the land, much to the concern and confusion of Poseiden (Jack Gwillim).  While Thetis does her best to put up obstacles for Perseus, Zeus is able to recruit the help of the other goddesses in the temple, specifically, Athena (Susan Fleetwood), Aphrodite (Ursula Andress) and Hera (Claire Bloom).  In doing so, Perseus is provided with a set of weapons and devices that makes his navigation of the new lands slightly less challenging, although he still is forced to face off against a variety of mythological beasts, including giant scorpions and Cerebus, al leading to his eventual confrontations with both Calibos and Medusa.  Fortunately, Perseus is also afforded an earthly guide through the figure of Ammon (Burgess Meredith) a poet and oracle of sorts that helps Perseus to translate the messages from the gods and make the best use of the gifts he is given.  While it would appear as though Perseus simply lacks the necessary strength to overcome the powerful Kraken, a last minute boost from his animal companion Pegasus proves enough to succeed, thus making his status as a king amongst men certain, even pushing to a reality where he might achieve the status of a Titan himself.

I think the last time I discussed the notion of game theory here on the blog was in regards to the surprisingly enjoyable and decently executed The Cooler, wherein William H. Macy's character represents a figure who is some how divinely unlucky, predisposed to have the world against him, although it is later evidenced that his playing in a larger game of performances and backstabbing had something to do with this.   Nonetheless, game theory denotes a reality where contingency and chance play as much a role in the occurrences of a character as do their skill and prowess, often times luck, or the lack thereof making for the ultimate deciding factor.  Indeed, I would most comfortably apply the ideas of game theory to the likes of film noir where they are most fitting.  With this in mind I still think a case could be made for Clash of the Titans working within this framework in a notable and interesting way, if not outwardly evidenced in the way that Perseus and other figures within the narrative are literally the pawns of the gods rivalry, ones that can be molded, moved and revived merely by a waving of their respective hands.  This realization takes the paranoia latent in the game theory as it relates to something like a crime thriller and puts it into its most realized form as it is a game, and regardless of what Perseus, Calibos or any other earthly figures might attempt, it is still contingent upon the gods playing a larger game with their bodies.  Of course, that is not to say that the skill and precision of the earthy manifestations do not still play a factor.  While both Zeus and Thetis could do their best to give various advantages to their pawns a randomness is still at play.  Suffice it to say, the battle between Medusa and Perseus could have gone a variety of ways and from a statistical standpoint (something key to game theory) Perseus should have lost out, but his low victory percentage is raised ever so slightly by possessing a shield and sword as to make victory feasible.  This paired with his own self-growth made for a push to Titan like statistical probability, all overseen by the hands of Zeus, that allow for him to easily destroy the Kraken.  Game theory, by pure narrative necessity, might be at its most realized in Clash of the Titans.

Key Scene:  The Medusa battle, despite using a now well-dated special effects method is still incredibly cinematic and highly engaging.

This film is well worth your time, but probably is of keen interest to me from a theoretical standpoint, as such I strongly urge a rental first.

Hurt Him. Hurt Him, To Save Him: Moulin Rouge! (2001)

This film is a mess.  A beautiful, cinematic, saccharine and unadulterated mess.  It is also a perfectly realized mess, something that could only come from the feverish mind of post-modern prodigy Baz Luhrmann.  While I am not a complete Luhrmann apologist, based almost primarily in his excessive appropriation of the misunderstood artist moniker, one that he claims is affirmed by his own vilification for 'ruining' classic texts.  While this is debatable, his visionary work Moulin Rouge! stands in a world all of its own, between its mash-up of classic songs into a GirlTalk like musical, or his near seizure inducing visual layering, everything Lurhmann offers his viewers is potent and pleasure inducing.  Between a haptic camera and quickened heartbeat at work in this film it is quite easy to lose out to the visuals of the film and overlook the very well executed, even if decidedly simplistic, story.  I have not seen all of Luhrmann's work and while I am holding out high hopes for Strictly Ballroom I am playing it safe in assuming that this is his current masterpiece.  Sure The Great Gatsby has an equal pacing, but problems like Toby MacGuire's acting and a hesitancy to go down a few of the darkest corners of the novel lead to a film that is not entirely perfect.  Moulin Rouge! is not perfect either, but damn if it is not as close to being such as possible.  I understand that the style of Luhrmann is not for everyone and I am willing to concede to this point of critique in some cases, simply attributing the frantic and overly referential nature of his oeuvre as a point of frustration.  In some cases, however, the critiques being mounted against this particular filmmaker are from individuals who also happen to think Quentin Tarantino is a consistently rewarding and masterful filmmaker, never seeing past his equally pastiched and kitschy veneer to realize he is doing precisely the same things in his films.  If critics and cinephiles alike are to concede to Tarantino being the bad boy of the post-modern styling, then it should also be extended to suggest that Lurhmann is in contrast its angst-laden rebel, the latter using culture in a far more curious and, I cannot believe I am saying this, far less pretentious manner.

Moulin Rouge! follows the experiences of Christian (Ewan McGregor) a struggling writer who has moved to the most rundown parts of Paris in hopes of discovering a space where he can blossom as a wordsmith, telling his disappointed father that his pursuits are purely inspired by the notion to understand the complexities of love.   The problem with Christian's noble aspirations is that he has never himself been in love.  Moving, however, into a dilapidated apartment, Christian immediately comes in contact with a variety of weird and wonderful characters including the squeaky voiced Toulouse-Lautrec (John Lequizamo) who is part of an acting troupe that is headed by the bombastic but keen Harold Zidler (Jim Broadbent).  When they realize that Christian is indeed skilled as a writer they employ him to help compose a play, hoping that his prowess will convince local burlesque dancer and object of affection for many Satine (Nicole Kidman) to join in the production.  By using a combination of his poetry and his actual attractions, along with the fortune of being mistaken as a duke, Christian immediately attains the affections of Satine.  However, when the real Duke (Richard Roxburgh) emerges things prove troublesome as Satine is quickly required to avert her burgeoning desires for Christian and replicated them, if falsely, towards The Duke.  This is made all the more troublesome by Satine's suffering from tuberculosis.  The Duke an admittedly possessive man threatens to buy out the Moulin Rouge club from Zidler should Satine not agree to be his property, the worried Zidler agreeing immediately.  While Satine understands the gravitas of the situation, she and Christian continue to use the guise of preparation for the play as a means to further their relationship, stealing kisses and glances behind The Duke's back.  When Satine's sickness immobilizes her for an entire evening, The Duke assumes her to be galavanting with Christian leading to his final demand that he be removed from the picture entirely, in turn leading to Zidler telling Satine that she must end things with Christian.  However, when Satine does this, Christian refuses to accept this as a reality and crashes the final production one that is garish and almost nearly fatal.  Tragically, however, even when their love is rekindled, the reality of Satine's sickness causes her ultimate demise, though not before forgiveness is afforded to all involved.

Upon doing some very basic research for this film, I discovered that Moulin Rouge! is often referred to as a jukebox musical.  This is a term often applied to musicals, specifically theatrical, that appropriate the songs of one artist into a larger narrative, notable examples including ABBA, Bob Dylan and The Beatles.  Yet, Moulin Rouge! is a bit more complicated than this and as Baz Luhrmann has suggested, he intended his work to be palatable to the MTV Generation of music listeners.  This claim helps to better ground the idea of the film, one that is both sporadic and hybrid in its musical composition, indicative of a TRL Top Ten, while also heavily visual, bowing to the music video generation, wherein how the music looks plays as much into the nature of the song itself.  Think about the seeming inextricable connection between Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball as a song and as a music video.  Of course, nearly every musical intends for the visual nature of the film to take precedence, but often does so in a linear and formalist structure, wherein Luhrmann rejects this for layering and subtext.  Indeed, the film begins by showing a stage, thus calling attention to the projected nature of the film, but within the film there are often extra layers of staging, whether it be the wonderfully lavish production of the play in the closing moments of the film or the various dioramas that appear either in possession of the characters or as spaces in which the characters occupy.  It is in this execution that Luhrmann's use of special effects becomes quite interesting.  For a filmmaker like Tarantino this is almost always used to emphasize a degree of violence, moving it from bloody to hyper-violent.  In contrast is Luhrmann's invocation of the cgi to achieve a degree of meta-theatrics, already at play agains the layering of music, this causes the film to work almost like a gyroscope always rotating and viewers attempt to keep focus on the center.  Indeed, when this is achieved it is often the most climactic moment in the film where everything comes to a jarring halt evoking emotion by stripping away the melodramatic elements.  Indeed, this is perhaps as post-modern as the musical can get, by working in the opposite direction from the hyper showy to the simplistic.  Moulin Rouge! really is quite a fascinating work of cinema.

Key Scene:  The Kismet-inspired final production scene is magical.

I am sure quite a few of my readers are opposed to Luhrmann for various reasons and may have already encountered this film in the past.  I would strongly urge you to revisit this film and consider it from a counter-structuralist standpoint.  It is as impassioned an argument for rethinking the language of cinema in the post-digital age as one can hope to find.

Your Guy's Got A Camera. Mine's Got A Flamethrower: C.H.U.D. (1984)

A lot of the cinema I encounter defies any sense of my logic as to how it exists in a final form, one that suggest that it was actively pursued and produced with the intent of expecting great success.  For example, while I was washing clothing at the laundromat this morning I noticed that the Hallmark Channel (one of the television staples of this particular establishment) was playing The First Daughter, a particularly underwhelming and indeed quite terrible piece of cinema whose release should never have seen the light of day.  Glancing at the film while far more intrigued by my book on the history of Technicolor, I noticed that everything about the film was half-assed and clearly rushed, exploiting outdated racial stereotypes and the most derivative of romance genre tropes.  The First Daughter should not cinematically exist, but the reality is that it does.  In another world completely is a film like C.H.U.D. whose cult status is undenied and certainly grows over the years, even being the subject of a delightfully irreverent Criterion April Fool's Joke, complete with an "analysis" of the film's many meanings that puts some of my overanalyzing of films to shame.  Watching C.H.U.D., one becomes aware almost instantly that the film is completely and undeniably bad, both in the ways evident of most 80's genre films, but also in terms of very basic filmmaking skills and visual narrative cohesion.  When watching C.H.U.D. I felt very much aware of this factor and kept wanting to dismiss it as one of the failures in regards to the varied viewings I have encountered so far during this, my second, horror film marathon.  Looking for a way to write the film off, I realized that as the creatures began to emerge and as Daniel Stern's acting slowly became more fractured and what could only be described as clear inspiration for Matthew Lillard that I was enjoying the very implausibility of C.H.U.D.  Indeed, even if I were at the point of writing the film off, the emergence of a young John Goodman into one scene pretty much assured its lasting viewing power.  While I gave C.H.U.D. a rather unimpressive three stars on Letterboxd, I still adore its endearing crappy qualities.  It is not a "so bad its good" type of film, but one so terrible in its execution as to allow a degree of schadenfreude to occur in watching it unravel completely.

The film begins with a woman walking her dog down an alley, only to be grabbed and drug into the sewers by the hand of some green creature, thus setting up a film about a monster attack by creatures known as Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers, or C.H.U.D. The creatures, however, are not the main focus of the film, but instead looks at a group directly affected by the emergence of these green fleshy humanoids.  Firstly there is the tense relationship between photographer George Cooper (John Heard) and his model girlfriend Lauren (Kim Geist) one that seems to be a challenge of creative establishment and sexual authority.  Occurring in line with this narrative are the experiences of a police captain named Bosch (Christopher Curry) who is attempting to uncover a string of murders where the bodies of the victims are appearing in the sewers of the town.  Knowing that his best source of information comes from A.J. Sheperd (Daniel Stern) whose work providing food and shelter for the homeless has resulted in his being labeled as The Reverend.  When Bosch explains the situation he is adamant that it is not the homeless population engaging in the attacks, but instead; a group of deformed humanoids who are the result of chemical dumping by the NRC, a group whose work directly ties to nuclear engineering.  The evidence emerges at it is clear that the creatures are indeed former humans whose exposure to toxic waste has led to them becoming neon-eyed monsters bent on violent revenge.  Despite apparent restrictions, the NRC continued to dump the waste, although the leaders continue to deny it as a fact, even when footage and eye witness accounts blatantly suggest otherwise.  Bosch, whose wife died at the hands of the toxic creatures, seeks to bring justice to the NRC, as well as his late wife, whose body is discovered in the mix of the corpses underground.  A.J. begins confronting members of his homeless community who have come into contact with the C.H.U.D.'s while Lauren has her own above ground contact with one of the fiendish creatures, all leading up to Bosch finally confronting the owner of the NRC, in a battle to expose the truth whose results, with the aid of A.J. and George have some rather fiery results.

C.H.U.D. is a film that clearly caves a bit under its own metaphor, hoping that by going for an idea in a big way that the important elements will exist underneath with little or no need for detailed elaboration. This, unfortunately, is not entirely the case and the film becomes almost about a lot of things and never fully about anything, and I certainly do not mean that in the way it has been endearingly appropriated to talk about Seinfeld.  Furthermore, in a perfect world I could write about this film with the same detached absurdity that Criterion did with their faux-release of this film, but they delivered it with such an earnestness that I would be foolish to step on its perfection.  So what could one make of the various almost realized social narratives.  Well there is a rather clear, albeit on-the-nose, connection made between the spaces that become victim to nuclear dumping, usually associated with impoverished spaces that are dangerously close to urban dwellings.  In C.H.U.D. dangerously close means underground, suggesting that cities exist on the exploitation of those below, or those with the least amount of class mobility, even becoming monsters in the eyes of the exceptionally wealthy and association that is, in turn, internalized by those without.  The creatures who occupy the space of monster in the film are clearly a creature within the filmic narrative, but they also carry along with them a metaphorical representation of the desire to attack the oppressive hegemonic structure, as well as the hegemony's own assumption that the lower class is so barbaric and uncivilized as to literally be a bug-eyed monster whose only desire is to blindly destroy the structures and well-established ways of society, never mind that these structures are based solely on economic privilege and social standing.  It is no less noticeable that the figures in the film who most sympathize with the figures of the C.H.U.D. are contingent on their relational attachment to privilege, whether it be Bosch and his particular frustration creatures primarily as a result of his wife's death, but also indicative of his relation to enforcing authority for the hegemony.  In contrast is A.J. whose empathy for the creatures is considerably higher, even when faced with a threat on his life, because he seems to accept and understand that their grotesque nature is very much the result of ill-willed politicians and corporate leaders who have knowingly destroyed the bodies of humans in the name of their own capitalist endeavors and their assured success.

Key Scene:  The what would now be called a cameo on the part of John Goodman.

This is and has been on Netflx for awhile, should you be looking for a late night future, this is certainly a worthy consideration.

Man Is Foolishly Oblivious To Danger: Goke, Body Snatcher From Hell (1968)

I have seen a lot of Japanese films in my day.  Indeed, before I decided to focus primarily on South Korean cinema I considered throwing my hat into the ring of Japanese film scholarship, which has come quite a long way since the labor intensive work of Donald Richie and the many off shoots that followed.  While I certainly still incorporate Japanese cinema into my research when possible, it has now become more a labor of love to engage with the country's cinema in all its glorious forms whether samurai or kaiju related, even stepping into the lush and evocative world of Kurosawa on occasion.  I say all this with reference to one of my particularly adored genres within Japanese cinema, the shoe string budget horror films that were released throughout the sixties and well into the late seventies, including the wonderfully wacky House and the schlock heavy, but well-regarded Matango.  Indeed, I am, as such, always on the look out for a new film in this bizarre cannon to consume, realizing that in the space of these non-traditional, low-budget films exist some of the most pointed and scathing critiques of the many facets of Japanese society and the manner with which it relates to a larger global context.  The delightfully eerie Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell is certainly a case of this, right down to its use of a white European (perhaps American?) character and her lost Vietnam soldier as an extension of larger post-colonial woes in a country that was then still finding its footing on a global scale.  At times some of the special effects in the film could give the worst of the b-movie nonsense a run for its money, but given the clear admiration and care for the filmic out come of his product, director Hajime Sato manages to make a shoe-string budget into something spectacular, through heavy use of red tones, a healthy does of fake blood and enough hand drawn animation to make even the most stern of film viewers smile in disbelief.  Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell will never exist in a world of perfect cinematic output, but it is also far from being incurably bad, in fact, it is precisely in its willingness to not take itself seriously that the very critiques and condemnations it spouts become almost prophetic, even if only in a satirical sense.

Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell begins with a group of individuals flying on an airplane from Tokyo to  Osaka, wherein the flight stewardess Kuzumi Asakura (Tomomi Sato) attempts to layout a general flight plan only to be repeatedly interrupted by birds killing themselves by flying directly into the plane. Paired with a disturbingly red sky the other members of the crew and the passengers begin to grow anxious of their safety on the plane.  When information suggests that their might be a man on board with a bomb, the captains order an immediate search of all the persons present, including the somewhat befuddled Neal (Kathy Horan) an American widow, as well as a prestigious senator named Mano (Eizo Kitamura).  When a sudden light floats above the ship, the captains lose control of the plane's computers and the aircraft spirals downward, landing damaged on a desert like area, assumedly between the two cities.  It is at this point that the crew becomes suspicious of a particular man on the ship known only as The Hijacker (Hideo Ko), whose possession of a rifle makes him a prime suspect for a political assassination that happened prior to the flight.  Noting the inherent survival nature of the situation, a psychiatrist in the group named Momotake (Kazuo Kato) suggests that the group be incredibly aware of each action they commit as the wrong phrase or move could send the entire group into a frenzy, a warning that proves futile when it is revealed that not only is The Hijacker dangerous on purely an assassin level, but that he is indeed a creature that consists entirely in blob form, using the human body as a vessel to transport itself and destroy the other members on the plane in a manner quite similar to a vampire.  Nonetheless, figures like Mano in a foolish quest to quench their thirst drink large amounts of whisky, only worsening his suffering, while Neal, already reeling from the trauma of her loss, begins to act in bouts of hysteria bemoaning the war in Vietnam and the general downfall of humanity.  Matters come to their worst point when it is revealed that the aliens, who refer to themselves as Gokemidoro, show that they are capable of transferring between bodies at a quick rate, consuming the life force of all those they encounter.  The closing shots depict two remaining survivors traveling about the streets of Japan in a quest for survivors, only to be told by the spectral voice of a Gokemidoro that no human will be spared, as the camera then pans out to show the true destruction wrought not only on Japan, but the entire world.

While a well-argued case for this not really being a horror movie, but more so a science fiction thriller could be made, I would like to instead say that the survival aspects of the work are precisely what make it fall within the framework of a horror movie, as deemed so by Criterion who released it as part of their stellar and repeatedly rewarding Eclipse box set When Horror Came to Shochiku.  In fact, the psychiatrists speech during the film notes that in times of survival one can see humanity turn to its most inhumane, tapping into base animal instincts and maliciously seeking their own survival over that of others.  The narrative in Goke certainly evokes this sort of sensibility, but manages to take it even a step further, using this moment of survival to allow characters to challenge deeply entrenched notions of oppression, privilege and accessibility.  This is absolutely the case when Tokiyasue (Nobuo Koneko) exploits the well-being of Mano by offering him the initial drink of whisky, thus affording his increasing suffering and drunkenness as a point to show the horrors and injustices he has condoned while in office.  Similarly, there are multiple through lines between the figure of Neal's dead husband and his oppressive behavior both in regards to how he navigates as a continued colonial identity in Japan, while also proving quite hazardous to Neal who appears to be at a complete lack without the privilege attached to a white male in society.  Of course, the horror does not extend at these oppression, one can certainly look closer and note the manners with which Japanese women become a doubly othered figure in the narrative, neither possessing the whiteness or the maleness to be taken completely seriously, despite, at times being the most rational in a situation.  As such, Goke, in its low-budget ways becomes a wonderful look at the spectrum of intersectionality and the ways this oppression occurs even in the face of a near fatal accident, suggesting that as long as oppressors exist in the framework of a society, hegemony will exist and perhaps that is where a real horror lies, if not in this realization the purposeful juxtaposition of the Gokemidoro with the violence occurring in reality (Vietnam, political assassinations and riots) certainly drives the point deeply in a viewers psyche.

Key Scene:  The airplane crash!

This particular film is part of an Eclipse series that is full of great Japanese horror films, in which this piece of brilliance is not even its best offering.

Must You Hide Behind The Image Of Another Man: Legend Of The Seven Golden Vampires (1974)

There are no shortage of genre hybrid films in the history of cinema, and given a push towards the digital/indie market in a more contemporary setting these, along with anthology films seem to be taking the market by surprise.  Many of these films are decidedly revisionist and while highly enjoyable also possess a degree of detached irony or situate themselves as a critique of one genre through the inclusion of the other.  I have no problem with this, but it takes a considerable amount of the cinematic zeal out of it when one becomes aware of the layers of commentary going on within the directors offering.  I, as such, assumed that genre hybrid films were always to be a thing I would pursue if in a particular mood or hoping for something completely off-the-wall, returning to Singing Cowboy films being a constant.  Yet, when creating my list for the kung fu marathon, I was recommended by a stalwart cinephile and purveyor of all things excellent to check out, amongst other things Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires.  Admittedly the name alone was enough to pique my interest, although I also assumed that it would be a film entirely entrenched within some of the more badly executed Chinese films of the seventies, ones that implode within their own excessiveness.  However, when I began watching the film and was given "A Hammer/Shaw Brothers Production" to read, I went crazy.  When one considers the genre of horror films, Hammer is the grandfather of all things gloriously macabre, whereas, an argument that the Golden Age of kung fu cinema began and ended with the work released by the producing brothers.  At first, it appears as though Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires will be nothing more than a cleverly edited film that is two distinctly different stories using the Hammer and Shaw names as a marketing ploy, but this fear is quickly squashed when the icons and bodies famous to the Gothic horror begin to interact with those of the Shaw Brother world, breaking visual boundaries through the space of genre, while also doing a surprising amount to ease racial and language based tensions during a time when foreign cinema, particularly that of the art house style, where reading subtitles was one of many concerns.  This intersection of crossover foreignness, even if decidedly Westernized represents a moment in cinema that is near impossible.  The fact that Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires  even exists is a feat all its own, the realization that it is also a great movie is simply a wonderful added benefit.

Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires, begins with a flashback to Transylvania in the early 19th century, as a shaman from China seeks out the castle where the infamous Dracula (John Forbes-Robertson) resides.  Finding him asleep in a mausoleum, the shaman is quickly horrified to discover not only that Dracula desires to come back to live, but that he also intends to use his body as a vessel, thus changing his appearance bend then affording himself the opportunity to find new bodies to feed off of in China.  After this prologue, viewers are introduced to Lawrence Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) who has taken up residence as a professor at a Chinese university, claiming that Dracula's influences have stretched to the Far East and have led to a set of vampires ruining the Chinese countryside.  Many of the students flippantly dismiss Van Helsing with the exception of Hsi Ching (David Chiang) who claims not only to have proof that the Seven Golden Vampires Van Helsing discusses exist, but that he and his brothers have been sworn to protect their villagers from the constant attacks of the undead monsters.  Requiring proof of this, Van Helsing travels with Hsi, and brings along his son  Lelyand Van Helsing (Robin Stewart) and a wealthy baroness named Vanessa Buren (Julie Edge) to finance the  trip.  The group eventually meet up with Hsi's siblings which include a variety of martial arts experts, including his sister Mai Kwei (Shih Szu) with whom Lelyand takes to liking.  While Van Helsing is driven by ambition to complete his mission, he is also aware of the dangers befalling anybody hoping to fight one, let alone, seven vampires.  The skills of Hsi and his siblings, nonetheless, proves high and they take out the vampires one by one, watching them melt away after being destroyed, Lelyand even throws his fists about in a pub fighting inspired version of martial arts, although he seems constantly concerned with his ability to protect his new love interest Mai.  Ultimately though, the villain still remains to be Dracula and as such it is Van Helsing who must confront him, demanding that he return to his original body before fighting him, eventually stabbing him with a spike and causing the count to decay in front of his eyes.  Exhausted, both physically and mentally, Van Helsing sighs, hopefully, having forever rid the world of Dracula's evil presence.

So what makes this work as a hybrid?  It is tricky to decide whether or not it is the nations varied influences that make this film work, or what they pull from the respective genres, but it seems simplest to suggest that it is a combination of both.  For example, the film clearly lifts its ambiance and costuming from the world of Hammer, the makeup of all involved carries that faded pastel look that made Hammer iconic, whether it be the sickly green of Dracula's face or the bright, yet florid blood that covers anybody dying or injured.  Furthermore, even when in pagodas the sense of the setting possesses the decadence, indicative of a Hammer film, right down to the seemingly inescapable amount of cobwebs covering the walls.  This is one element, the film seems more invested in the Shaw Brothers martial arts stylings when considering the editing and production of the film.  For example, there are a heavy amount of zoom-in and pan outs throughout the film, one notable one involving a beheaded frog, that capture the frenetic nature of the action of kung fu cinema, which are far less present in the slow-pacing moodiness of a Hammer film.  The two put together become nearly transcendental, playing off of one another much like a great improvisational jazz set.  Culturally the films seem to be a exercise in well-thought out symbiosis.  Take the dialogue interactions throughout the narrative.  Scenes between the British characters have the rat-a-tat-tat of choppy, loquacious British demeanor, while scenes involving the Chinese character, take on the drawn out waxing poetics of honor, family and identity that are very present within the genre.  At times, the two come together and you can witness the Chinese character playing with language in ways that would be more indicative of a Hammer film, whereas, Van Helsing at times will draw out his speech and ideas to represent the narrative leanings of a quest to become a master, in his case of killing Dracula.  These are only a few examples, issues of religion and fraternal bonds also emerge, wherein the two cultures ideas are initially separated, only to converge in the most thrilling of ways.

Key Scene:  When the fight starts involving vampire deaths, the movie's hybridity takes on a new level.  Never has a drawn out melting vampire shot felt so frantic.

The DVD is a bit pricy, but trust me this is more than worth the investment.

We're Going To Wake This Town Up Ourselves: The Blob (1958)

Before getting into the amazing cinematic gem that is 1958's The Blob, I want to thank Michael and Jill at Sittin' On A Backyard Fence for giving me the opportunity to be involved in the TCM Summer Under the Stars blogathon, because it is allowing me to both revisit some of my favorite pieces of cinema, while also catching up with at least one film I have never seen, in hopes of capturing a new gem.  As such, my first entry focuses on The Blob, a work I have often described as a "fine wine" of the b-movie genre, because unlike many of its counterparts it is a film that seriously does seem to become more rewarding with age.  Everything from the earnest attempts of the amateur church actors to the stunning performance by Steve McQueen make up for a highly watchable film, one that carries an considerable amount of believability despite being about a large mass of goo attacking a small town.  Of course, much of this has to do with the aforementioned acting that contains balance of professionalism and amateurishness, thus reflecting what a small town in the grips of a natural disaster might look like, however, that is only one part of the equation.  For being a film that barely clocks in at eighty minutes, The Blob is a wonderfully cinematic experience, using surprisingly thrilling special effects that seem just as real fifty years from its release, as I am sure they did when initially shocking moviegoers way back when.  I would be entirely ready to call The Blob a piece of cinematic perfection purely from a structuralist standpoint, considering that a scene like The Blob invading the movie theater stand as one of the great moments in metacinema, however, this film, much like many b-movies, affords  itself a high degree of social commentary under its guise of simply being a schlocky horror film.  Considering its release date in 1958, it is a film decidedly coming to terms with an imminent Cold War, a ideology that literally influences the film, however, when one considers some of the other classics of Cold War horror, it becomes clear that The Blob is far from paranoid propaganda and, indeed, is something more indicative of considering lingering trauma, the fears of unquestioned authority and a general study of the pains of moving away from youthful innocence.

The Blob begins, as you may know with one of the iconic opening songs, written by a then relatively unknown musician by the name of Burt Bacharach.  The upbeat and swinging song manages to become a point of irony when the film immediately shifts to an image of a young couple making out quietly in the woods.  The couple Steve (Steve McQueen) and Jane (Aneta Coursat) are young and foolish, especially Steve who gets caught in his own web of faux seduction, when Jane calls him out for using the same rehashed pick-up lines to woe her into laying in his arms.  Yet, their moment of bickering and subsequent fondness are undermined when an unusually large shooting star fills the sky, one that catches the attention of not only Steve and Jane but a group of young men from town, who pass the couple, demanding that they race them backwards through the streets of town.  When caught by a local deputy known by his first name Dave (Earl Rowe) Steve and Jane agree to settle down and not get into more trouble through the night, a promise that is immediately broken when they discover a man on the side of the road flailing and screaming with an arm that appears to be covered in a large mucous-like blister.  Confused the two rush the man to Dr. Hallen (Stephen Chase), their local physician, who is equally baffled by the mass that appears to be expanding.  Assuming that the doctor has things under control, Steve and Jane leave, but when Steve witnesses Dr. Hallen being attacked in his office, the two head to the police station to warn of an attack by some sort of monster.  Given that the two have already been caught speeding, Dave and the rest of the police force are skeptical, particularly when an investigation seems to suggest vandalism and not a monster attack.  Frustrated the police return the couple to their parents and plan to investigate further the next day.  Steve is certain that he saw a monster and with the help of Jane, leaves his house to investigate, discover that there is indeed a large blob attacking the city.  Throwing all understanding of authority to the wind, Steve wakes the town up in time to avoid a huge attack at the local theater, thus leading to the police acknowledging the problem.  After a fearfully being trapped in a dining car, Steve, Jane and a handful of other people discover that the blob is fearful of cold things and using CO2 fire extinguishers, manage to keep the monster at bay long enough to have the government transport it to the frozen tundra of the arctic, with the suggestion that such a method of suppression is only temporary.

Indeed, it is the very notion of having to freeze this beast that carries the most anachronistic reference to the Cold War, wherein a decidedly scientific form of attack destroys a monster that expands inexplicably consuming humans in its path.  The idea of an entity growing and consuming those around it was one of the major fears of the Cold War, especially in regards to communist rhetoric and ideology.  I would posit, however, that the narrative of The Blob, is not one of a cautionary tale against the assumed threats of communism, although, a case could be made for it being a drawn out fire safety PSA!  I would be more inclined to suggest that much of The Blob is concerned with dealing with lingering traumas and the affect they have on youthful bliss.  Many references are made to characters having experienced loss in their past, particularly the police chief whose wife, it is suggested, died in an unfortunate traffic accident.  His particularly vindictive attitude towards the teens in his town, exists because the other person in the accident happened to be young.  Yet his angry disillusionment is not the only one that exists, indeed another man makes considerable note of his own angst as a World War II veteran who finds the decided decadence and indifference of late 50's America baffling and disconcerting.  As such, a particular malaise seems to cloud over the town, affecting Steve, Jane and the other teenagers, not physically but emotionally, making it as though they are criminals and trouble even when at their most innocent, or in the case of Steve most inclined to help.  The presence of The Blob, then comes to represent a physical manifestation of this malaise and trauma, one that the the adults and authorities in the community want to ignore, because doing so allows them to attain a degree of power and complacency through ignorance, yet when the monsters reality becomes far too large to ignore, Steve and the other young people's wild delusions of grandeur become a reality.  The adults must face their literal monster(s), one that continues to grow until they learn to freeze and suppress it, although it does always carry the possibility of reemerging.  Also, it is worth noting that the movie theater scene, could almost exist now as a metaphor about the way Cold War propaganda seeped into American culture, here in a very literal sense.

Key Scene:  While the movie theater moment is the obvious answer here, I want to make note of a monologue Steve McQueen gives earlier in the film after the realization of the blob coming from space. He speaks about things becoming not about him and Jane, but about the universe as a whole, thus changing the meaning of every action.  For a film of such a low budget and action oriented plot, this has to be one of the great existential moments of pondering ever filmed.

I had a chance to catch up with the Criterion bluray.  It is spectacular and a crisp transfer.  One that is almost worth nabbing for the menu screen alone and to check out more excellent posts from The Summer Under the Stars blogathon, head on over to Sittin' on a Backyard Fence and ScribeHard on Film for blogs about Steve McQueen movies, as well as a ton of other great stars from the classic years of Hollywood.

Fortune Favors The Brave, Dude: Pacific Rim (2013)

If this proves to be the only summer blockbuster I upon its release in 2013 I will be more than content, because to be honest it is the perfect escapist big budget film, one that is greatly aided by its 3D option, not to mention including fully realized and expertly executed CGI, something that would seem second nature at this point in movie technology, but is sadly often lacking.  I could have gotten behind this film were it solely a movie about big ass robots fighting equally large sea monsters, because I am a burgeoning kaiju-fanatic who will consume pretty much any piece of media that involves large monsters both within its traditional Japanese framework, as well as outside of this into the more "non-traditional" types of kaiju.  Hell, the fact that Guillermo Del Toro directed this movie only added an extra layer of enjoyability, one that is at times completely noticeable (so many nosebleeds in this movie) while at other times the directors hand seems decidedly absent.  I want to be quite careful, however, in separating this film from what I would decidedly call cinema, because even with its ties to the cinematic tradition of kaiju and a director who has certainly made works deserved of the moniker, Pacific Rim is a summer movie, one that does not take itself too seriously nor should it, because it exists primarily to rake in the money of moviegoers hoping to escape the sweltering heat in exchange for gratuitous amounts of damage.  The acting in this movie is exceptionally awful, and I recently caught up with Sharknado, and there are moments of dialogue so on-the-nose that it is almost cringeworthy.  Indeed were it not for the saving presence of Clifton Collins, Jr., Charlie Day and Ron Perlman I would be inclined to write the cast off completely.  Furthermore, despite being a movie that clocks in well past two hours, Pacific Rim avoids delving too deeply into some of the more philosophical and societal issues in which its entire narrative rests, again indicative not of it being a bad movie, but one whose primary focus is to entertain, admittedly, however, my hyper-analytical mind desperately hoped for more to pull from for not only my critical analysis as it relates to this blog post, but for prospective academic papers in the future.  Ultimately, Pacific Rim stands in a homage to all that is kaiju, a genre Del Toro, undoubtedly, adores, and takes very seriously.  It will not go down as a great film, but over the years, I would not be surprised to see it gain second wind as a piece of underrated science fiction.

Pacific Rim is set in the near future, a time when the world is under the constant attack of a group of sea monsters known as kaiju, whose namesake literally means giant beast.  While the global community initially attempted to fight the incessant attacks of the beast with traditional military power, their continual attacks lead to the jaegar (the German word for hunter) initiative, involving the building of large mechanized humanoid machines co-piloted by two or more individuals.  A particularly adept piloting duo being Raleigh (Charlie Hunnam) and Yancey Becket (Diego Klattenhoff) set out to continue their reign as the world's most respected jaegar pilots.  Tragedy strikes, however, when during a fight with a particularly brutal kaiju, Yancey is ripped from the cockpit and killed, leading to a traumatic experience on the part of Raleigh, who has not only lost his brother, but is mentally scarred considering that in order to successfully co-pilot the persons involved must engage in what is known as drifting, or sharing memories to create a symbiotic fusion.  Needless to say this loss drives Raleigh into retirement for years, during which the scale and frequency of kaiju attacks increase until it becomes quite obvious that the global community will eventually fall under the pressure.  Years later, Raleigh finds himself employed as a construction worker building a wall of hope in Alaska one that the world's political leaders believe will keep the monsters at bay, a foolish notion that is quickly dismissed when a monster breaks through the wall of Sydney in a matter of an hour.  Desperate to end the problem Jaeger leader and former pilot Stacker Pentecost (Idris Elba) reenlists Raleigh into the program, knowing that his unmatched skills are necessary as the kaiju attacks continue to strengthen.  Initially hesitant to join the cause, Raleigh, nonetheless, agrees to helping knowing that he would rather die inside a jaeger than on the scaffolding of a futile wall.  It is at this point that Raleigh is introduced to the last vestiges of the global jaeger program, including only four functioning robots, one from China, one from Russia, another from Great Britain and his own former machine Gipsy Danger.  Of course, training must commence for a new co-pilot for Raleigh, which is found in a Chinese woman named Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi).  All the while two scientists Newton Geizler (Charlie Day) and Gottlieb (Burn Gorman) attempt to discover the larger reasons for the kaiju attacks.  The discovery so large and unprecedented as to seem impossible, ultimately, taking every last effort and possible body/jaeger scrap to take down the attacks.

Pacific Rim is about the big ideas of a cause, focusing on the actions that will have the greatest effect for the largest amount of people, indicated in the opening moments of the film when while on assignment Gipsy Danger is told to ignore the presence of a small boating ship of ten people, because their main concern is preventing large scale damage by an impending kaiju attack.  Yet, favoring the safety of even a singular person, Raleigh and Yancey save the vessel, thus leading to Yancey's demise. This sacrifice for the lesser in the name of doing what is right comes to serve as the metaphor for the film as a whole, the problem being that while Del Toro is clearly trying to play upon this idea it usually gets lost in the battle sequences and cinematic layers of the film, or when called upon seems so highly-stylized as to be part of the idea of the gradiose as opposed to the small.  This is most obvious in the super over-the-top moment when the fight between a jaeger and kaiju leads to zooming in on a Newton's Cradle to show it being slightly affected by the attack.  The moment is assumedly intended to carry the metaphor of the "butterfly affect" theory suggesting that even the slightest of movements play into a larger outcome and to alter them in the slightest could change the course of time.  Pairing this with the act of drifting is rather intriguing, because the result is a shared mental bond between two persons, one that leads to their complete understanding of even the most internal and oppressed of thoughts.  Again the film could deal with these implications in rather intriguing and engaging ways, but, particularly with the father son relationship of one jaeger, or the burgeoning relationship between Raleigh and Mako.  Hell, there is even the possibility of a unison between the humans and the extra-terrestrial/subterranean kaiju monsters.  The problem is that the concern for the spectacle gets in the way of the metaphysical considerations of the film, because while the fight sequences are tight, well-edited and highly engaging, the drifting sequences might well be the most cinematic moments in the film, even when they exist in moments of complete CGI fabrication.  I feel as though the initial film asked a lot more questions, which were quickly muffled by studio execs whose only concern was audience response.  The film also deals with some fascinating masculinity issues, perhaps on accident, but it is something I hope to cover in the future via an academic piece.

Key Scene:  There is a moment when Geizler and a kaiju come face-to-face that could on its own justify the entire existence of 3D films.

This will likely be the peak of summer blockbusters and I would strongly encourage you to seek it out, because I am quite certain its awe will fail to transfer to the home entertainment setting.

Exterminate All Rational Thought: Naked Lunch (1991)

I am both regretting, as well as beginning to appreciate the #100filmsforJune marathon I have decided to undertake along with a ton of other members on Letterboxd.  I am regretful because it is proving to be an incredibly daunting and time-consuming process, especially considering that I am trying to avoid repeat viewings per the stipulations of the marathon.  However, it has thus far afforded me an opportunity to catch up with a few blind spots within my film literacy a problem that I hope will be noticeably altered by the end of the month.  One such blind spot for me, as mentioned with my previous post concerning Sunshine, is that of underrated or overlooked science fiction films, which made a viewing such as Naked Lunch excellent, primarily because it falls within the confines of lesser known science fiction, while also affording me the very welcomed opportunity to fill in a gap on my desired viewing list with the psychosexual madness of yet another Cronenberg film.  While I would not say that Cronenberg hits every work out of the park, I do find most of his choices engaging and, at times, deeply profound.  Works like Videodrome and Existenz have become staples of consumerist fears and the detachment of the body in regards to an omnipresent, artificial entity that can fulfill even the most base of human needs and desires.  As should be little surprise, Cronenberg takes lens in Naked Lunch and spins a web of insanity relating to some absurd hybrid of drug culture and repressed heterosexuality.  What comes out of his cauldron of visions is a film that is parts Terry Gilliam and Ken Russell, engaging the very fabric of human life and its fractured psyche during a state of dependence that parallels nicely with the narrative of Linklater's A Scanner Darkly which provides for yet another layer of fitting parallels, in that both manage to perfectly adapt rather dense and challenging texts from equally prolific authors into a world all their own, using similar metaphors and messages to paint their facsimile of society in such a way that it is entirely implausible to the point of viewers finding safe detachment, while also being incredibly prescient and a cause for very real feels of discontent and dismay.

Naked Lunch is set inconceivably in fifties era New York and follows the life of exterminator Bill Lee (Peter Weller), a rather interesting job in the context of this world considering that both bugs, as well as particular pesticides prove to be highly addictive drugs, so much so that his girlfriend Joan (Judy Davis) is a strung out addict to bug powder herself, often stealing large quantities from Bill's work supply to get her fix, which, in turn, leads to his being fired from his job. Later that evening in an attempt to get people out of his house, Bill and Joan do a William Tell routine that involves him shooting a glass off of Joan's head, only for it to go awry and result in her being shot.  During an arrest related to his assumed murder Bill begins his own hallucinations as a result of repeated work around bug powder, where in he sees a large insect who informs him that he is to be a secret agent in a alternate world known as Inter Zone where he will serve as a writer for the various alien-like bugs that inhabit the world.  During his work for a particular bug, one named Clark Nova, after the typewriter which it manifests itself though, Bill is told that he is to find one Dr. Benway (Roy Scheider), an endeavor that leads him to meeting doppleganger of his deceased wife.  As this navigation towards Dr. Benway continues, Bill comes to realize that the entirity of Inter Zone, as well as its extended alternate universe Annexia are riddle with drug addicted individuals, many of which actively engage in gay relationships, and that a larger narcotics trade orbits around the trafficking of a particular bug based drug known as "black meat."  Of course, getting to the center of the issues is far from simple, particularly since Bill himself is navigating various drug induced trips, yet after a constant shifting of mind states, he eventually comes to realize that it is indeed Dr. Benway who is the veritable kingpin of the narcotics pushing and in an attempt to flee to Annexia, he, as well as the doppleganger of Joan, is stopped by border police, also dopplegangers of previous characters themselves who demand that Bill prove he is a writer.   After pulling a pen out of his pocket as evidence, Bill, for no obvious reason, recreates the William Tell accident from earlier, thus bring the acid trip of a film full circle and Bill no closer to a sort of meaning and happiness he so clearly seeks throughout.

Much like other Cronenberg films, the narrative and its visual stylings seem to have a particular fascination with flesh, penetration and the seemingly inextricable connection between the mind and body as it relates to identity and survival.  This cinematic theme within Cronenberg's films furthermore always seems to have a psychosexual layer added as well, one of invasion and intrusion that is made all the more grotesque by the perfectly disgusting creatures that Cronenberg's crew makes for his films.  While I know I am not going to do any justice to this thematically, I feel it necessary to talk about the particularly unusual way in which the psychosexual elements relate to homosexuality between males.  Much like Barton Fink, the film has a drifting writer character to seems to be struggling with something larger than himself that is forcefully and unsuccessfully being repressed only to blow apart in troubling and destructive ways.  I would argue that both the character of Barton, as well as Bill are dealing with their respective oppressed sexualities, ones that are necessariliy oppressed for fear of violence and desertion from society.  In Cronenberg's film, this repression means that Bill must shack up with a drug addicted woman who he "accidentally" kills not out of malice, but out of a desperate hope to escape to something desirable, an escape he and the other openly gay characters of the film seem to pursue via wild hallucinogenics.  The escape only proves mildly beneficial for Bill, in that he is arguably surrounded by other gay males, although the price is pretty severe because the various drugs essentially allow for his feuding id and superego to go unchecked resulting in some bizarre drug induced visions. Of course the image that will be easy to pick up to the non-Freudian thinking viewer will undoubtedly be that of the various writers and other figures suckling at the flaccid stem of the white bug hoping to receive the liquid that emerges upon the completion of "good writing," which, of course, extends to include a good sexual performance as well.  Bill while madly struggling to repress his feelings cannot help but desire this secretion, much as he cannot change his desire for other men.  Of course, there is also the bug whose back, and apparent form of communication very much resemble the anus, suggesting a point of sexual pleasure, as well as verbal interaction whose implications both within the context of sexuality and Freudian psychology are many and multifaceted.

Key Scene:  The bug farm scene and the revelation of Dr. Benway's disguise are a fitting way to bring this narrative to a near close and defy all the logic in the film, which was minimal to begin with.

This is an excellent film and Criterion has recently put out a bluray, I would strongly encourage obtaining a copy when finances allow you to do so.

If I Am Not Me, Then Who The Hell Am I?: Total Recall (1990)

It seems as though Ray Bradbury and Philip K. Dick will be doing a battle of sorts for my favorite sic-fi author whose work has been successfully transferred to film.  A handful of reviews have considered each author and their works as they have been adapted and Total Recall only proves to be the most recent case of this, a film that I had wanted to see for awhile, but always put on the back burner for a variety of reasons.  I am glad to have finally obtained a bluray and popped it into my player, because it was a very redemptive experience on a large scale.  For whatever reason I had written of Arnold Schwarzenneger as a respectable actor, despite being fully aware that he is excellent in the Terminator series amongst other things.  Furthermore, a very terrible experience with Showgirls, as well as a less than stellar response to Basic Instinct had me strongly reconsidering my notions of what constituted Paul Verhoeven as a great filmmaker, aside from Robocop.  Finally, I was rather certain that highly stylized, special effects film had lost their magic by the end of the eighties, but this film seems to really be the swan song of that era and baffled me with its continually experimental and fresh use of visual elements to create a highly watchable and active film.  One would be hard pressed to really criticize Total Recall as a film, because, while it has its moments of terrible acting and occasionally bends under its ambitious plot, it manages to be solidly executed and perfectly timed considering its both inclusive character plot and larger philosophical considerations.  Total Recall, much like Die Hard is just a fun film to engage with, one will find viewing this film to be viscerally enjoyable and visually mesmerizing while also being aware of its general badass nature, particularly in some of the more bizarre moments of special effects and cgi, which manages to exist within the world without the weird showiness present in more contemporary works.  I have not paid the remake a visit to this point, but I feel as though it will only be a let down, because this version is something extraordinary and indicative of what is truly possible with science fiction films that are fun and easily accessible, yet not so watered down as to be insultingly straight forward.

Total Recall centers on the experiences of Douglas Quaid (Arnold Schwarzenneger) a construction worker whose life within his gorgeous wife Lori (Sharon Stone) is constantly at odds given his preoccupation with his dreams about roaming Mars with a brunette woman only to result in his death when his helmet breaks and he suffocates in the toxic air.  These dreams lead Quaid to pursue answers through Rekall, a corporation that specializes in aiding people with their desires through a dream state.  Quaid takes up this opportunity only to result in a technological error that leads to him being woken up while being put under for his unconscious experience.  This awakening finds him with a severe case of memory loss and the knowledge that he must return to a certain place to assure his safety.  However, when Quaid awakes he is also fully aware that he is now a wanted man, one who apparently has ties to a man named Hauser who worked on Mars.  As Quaid begins to navigate this space it becomes clear that the people he assumed to be his friend were spies themselves, even Lori who attempts to kill Quaid when he returns to their apartment.  Despite being completely against odds Quaid's desire for survival affords him the ability to appropriate technology to his advantage, even using brawn when necessary. While running from pursuers, Quaid learns of a deeper layer of exploitation occurring in his world, one that has led to mutations in individuals, specifically groups whose living close to the surface of Mars.    Furthermore, Quaid realizes that his identity as Hauser has layers of problems, some that tie him directly to the exploitation of the persons on Mars, fortunately, Quaid meets a woman named Melina (Rachel Ticotin) and she helps him to realize his past, as well as make larger sense of the dreams he was having at the beginning of the film.  Quaid takes it upon himself to correct the wrongdoings by the large corporation, and uses both his newly obtained technology, as well as a keen awareness of the group and their hubris to his advantage, eventually saving the citizens of Mars.  The closing scene shows Melina and Quaid happily embracing, although it is quite possible that this entire world was simply the result of Quaid's initial dreaming at Rekall.

My relatively recent review of A Scanner Darkly, also an adaptation of a Dick work, considered the problem of reality and physical experiences, and it is certainly a theme in Blade Runner, a personal favorite of mine, again a result of the influence of the great science fiction author.  I would certainly place Total Recall within this context, but where the other two films seem intent on considering the issues of providing validity to a non-sentient being possessing "experience" while the other considers how experience is affected by layers of drugs, Total Recall seems to consider the idea of imagining into existence justice and egalitarianism in the world.  Quaid is certainly not a perfect person, but one can easily see from the onset of the film that he is a just and aware individual who simply wants his presence to validate those around him for something relevant, even if he can be a bit snappy and standoffish in the right circumstances.  The way the narrative, which is quite assumedly the vision of Quaid, plays up on the lesser versus the one's with unyielding power has various layers, whether it be the delusion of unwarranted power and how this affects the psychological outlook a person might have or the way a lesser individual internalizes their oppression,  suggests that Total Recall is decidedly entrenched in denying anything "performed."  It could easily possess layers of Marxism, psychoanalysis and in the right context a feminist reading and each would be able to draw upon the "dream" nature of the narrative to advance a reading of rejecting power, particularly those with such sway that their authority is even difficult to undermine in the unconscious state of the world of Total Recall, assuming of course that the film is an entire dreamscape.  Total Recall is concerned, firstly, with the issues of assuring one's presence in reality when each interaction is predicated upon a series of lies, or at the very least performances for and against expectations, and even if this rather obtuse consideration of the film is frustrating, its clear criticism of capitalist endeavors, much like what occurred in Robocop, is well worth celebrating.

Key Scene: The X-ray machine sequence could have been in a film this year and still been as captivating.

Total Recall on bluray is super cheap and certainly will prove a great film to have on hand for various situations.

She Finally Got Harry All To Herself: Attack Of The 50 Foot Woman (1958)

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is one of those movies that everyone is quite culturally aware of even if they have never seen the film, which was certainly the case for me up until last night, yet I could have identified a shot of a towering woman next to power lines with very little difficulty.  As a B-movie, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman suffers from some absolutely awful special effects, while also possessing some moments of incredibly captivating cinematography and experimentation, a moment involving a crystal ball immediately comes to mind.  Given the title of the film alone, it is really obvious as to why it would be included in this month of women in film blog posts, yet clocking in at barely over an hour, I was taken back by how little of the narrative is focused on the iconic image that every seems to glean from the film.  In fact, for being a film with such a straightforward title, it is ostensibly about a couple of guys dealing with the wrath of a woman, whose vengeance is more than justified.  It is of course a movie from the fifties, and a B-movie at that, it is always a dangerous risk to assume that any film from that era and style is anything but highly misogynistic.  Of course, that is not to entirely dismiss the film, considering that its metaphor on woman uprising against the wrongdoings of her husband, when it does occur, is with such intensity and commitment that its almost as large as the woman to which the title refers.  I would never place this film on the same very high pedestal as that of Carnival of Souls, but I do think that its much better than simply a cult classic and exists as a very key text when considering the depiction of women, particularly within American cinema.  It also manages to keep within the framework of the fear of the unknown, in this case, giant martian aliens, as a metaphor for concerns of nuclear fallout and the Cold War.  Sure a thousand arguments could be made for how Attack of the 50 Foot Woman could have been so much more than what is offered, but to be fair, it also could have been so much less, what is given is considerably revolutionary, if not quite hilarious at times.

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman focuses primarily on a town whose recent visitation by aliens, in the desert at the outskirts of their town, seems to affect little in relation to their daily lives.  In fact, the opening sequence of a newscaster explaining what exactly is occurring in regards to the giant orbs and martians occupying space outside the town, yet, aside from a few passive mentions of it, the townsfolk seem quite indifferent to its existence, instead, spending much more time focusing on the issues and arguments of a popular couple in town.  The two people in question, Nancy (Allison Hayes) and Harry Archer (William Hudson) are constantly at odds with one another, particularly Nancy towards Harry, who is seemingly always attempting to win over the affections of a much younger woman named Honey Parker (Yvette Vickers).  In an attempt to ignore the face of reality, Nancy continually consumes alcohol and bemoans Harry for his actions, yet in his slick ways, Harry always flashes his charm to get Nancy to forgive him in the end.  However, when she returns from a drive out to the desert spouting about seeing a giant green man, Harry believes her to have completely insane and, as a result, drugs her into submissive indifference.  Problems grow, literally, when the drugs Harry has given Nancy begin to react to something in her body, which it is later revealed changed upon her encounter with the martian in the desert.  A series of doctors and nurses come in with the intent of fixing the problem, however, as she continues to grow the efforts fail and a giant version of Nancy breaks from the confines of her chains and begins a quest to find Harry.  The enlarged version of Nancy is so focused in her goal that she begins, unintentionally trampling everything in her path, much to the distress of two hapless cops, until she makes it to the bar where Harry is hanging out with Honey.    Harry attempts to shoot at Nancy to no avail, and grabs him from the bar and raises him above her head.  It is not until a cop uses a riot gun to blow up electrical wires onto Nancy that she is subdued and returned to regular size, killing both herself and Harry in the process, but as an onlooker notes, she has finally obtained the one the she desired, the sole possession of her husband.

The main embrace of this movie is rather obvious in its clearly stated metaphor.  A woman grows to incomprehensible proportions and exacts her wishes and desires upon a man who has to a great degree done her wrong, particularly in his willful infidelity and indifference to destroying her body in the name of comfort, but considering that this portion of the narrative is so very brief, it is important to consider the larger commentaries of the film.  Firstly, it does ask questions about what role a woman has in deterring her husband from doing wrong by her, when she has little power within a societal or legal context.  Essentially, Nancy is able to bemoan the actions of her husband but cannot forbid him from doing so, similarly, the town seems to look down on Harry's relationship with Honey, yet they also know that it is out of their jurisdiction to correct his behavior and, purposefully, play ignorant to Nancy inquiries.  While the out-lash is blown to giant proportions, again, very literally, it is quite possible that the film connects a link between violent and single-minded outbursts, in this case the trampling of cars, power lines and buildings, to being tantamount to a fit of alcohol induced rage on the part of Nancy.  Nancy is indeed a lush, the film makes that quite clear, and, in fact, serves as the major factor into peoples refusal to believe her initial claims about seeing giants.   The problems faced by Nancy and Harry also find themselves comfortably entrenched within class privilege, their house is extravagant and Nancy possesses both fine jewelry and enough money to be a functioning alcoholic, therefore, they can also comfortably blow their issues out of the water, where as, others would be forced to internalize such issues, particularly women, whose reliance on men would require them to cower in fear and dependency, as opposed to blow up in revolution and independence.  Nancy is not the ideal figure for woman's radical stand against the patriarchy, yet considering the time period and her well-to-do status she is the realistic figure.  If it were not for the rather defeatist, and clear homage to King Kong, ending,  its frank consideration of privilege and societal navigation, and, ultimately, reconsideration of gender power dynamics would be damn near perfect.

Key Scene:  When Nancy finally breaks out of the house, her destruction of the domestic is so well realized and visually driven that it is hard not to revel in its occurrence.

This is an awesome b-movie that stands in considerable opposition to the male-oriented works of the same time, if only for the last ten minutes.  What makes it greater is that it has some moments of visual magic that are quite fresh to even by expanded cinematic palette.  I highly recommend grabbing a copy for your collection.

Never Look Into My Eyes: Beauty And The Beast (1946)

I had the fortune, all be it for some rather unfortunate circumstances, of finally getting a new slightly bigger television.  Along with this acquisition came the realization that I had moved from living in a 720p world, to one in the 1080p world and boy is the difference spectacular.  While I decided to break-in the new cinematic machine with a revisiting of "The Trolley Song" from Meet Me In St. Louis a recent bluray upgrade, this was quickly followed up with popping in the long overdue viewing of Jean Cocteau's French surreal masterpiece Beauty and the Beast, which is often present on various top ten films of all-time lists.  I have often held the Disney film in high esteem, mostly for nostalgic reasons, but also because it does have some moments of legitimate cinematic mastery, however, to be rather blunt about it the animated film does not have shit on this black and white, oneiric film.  Incorporating a variety of simple yet powerful filmic tricks, a stellar cast and what may well be the single greatest make-up job in the history of special effects. Beauty and the Beast jumps out of the screen, regardless of what aspect ratio or pixelation you may be viewing it in.  While I certainly suggest watching this in the biggest and brightest format possible it is such a magical film that it would not lose its charm even on a small screen in a low-fidelity setting.  Cocteau who is also known for his maddeningly experimental Orphic Trilogy, understands the perfect balance between a traditional and accessible narrative and the true artistic expression available by working within the unconscious framework and this easily comes across within Beauty and the Beast, so much so that, as one random review on Netflix suggests, it manages to capture the interests of both grown adults and very young children, more so than the previously mentioned Disney movie.  If the pure visual nature of the film were not enough to demand it moving up in relevance in discussions of film, it also manages to make a far less problematic commentary on burgeoning love and what role patriarchy plays in Belle's oppression than the latter Disney film.  I go on this tirade not to discredit the animated version, but because I truly am riding the waves of adoration well over twenty four hours after an initial viewing.

This version of Beauty and the Beast begins with the provincial setting, but Belle (Josette Day) is not a single daughter, but actually the daughter forced into servitude to her father, partially out of genuine love, but also because of an outright refusal by her two sisters to do anything that would undermine their feminine ideals or vain attempts at perfected beauty.  Their father, a man who deals in problematic money transactions is informed that a certain amount of his recent acquisitions have been taken as a means to pay off his debts, ultimately, forcing him to travel through the dangerous woods of the forest outside his town at night.  During this trip he decides to pluck a rose to return to Belle who requested it as a gesture of simplicity.  Not realizing that the roses belong to The Beast (Jean Marais), Belle's fater is informed that he is to stay imprisoned to the Beast, unless, he is willing to sacrifice his daughter to him in his place.  When Belle's father returns to tell the tale, Belle throws herself into the sacrificial ring, primarily because she believes herself guilty for her father's troubles, but yet again, also a result of her sisters and their lack of concern for anything outside their comfort zones.  Despite the contesting of her love interest Avenant (Jean Marais), Belle goes to the forest and lives with the Beast who continually makes gestures of kindness and romance towards Belle, for whom he becomes instantly infatuated, even proposing to her nightly, despite her continued refusal.  Belle, despite her lack of desire for marriage, learns to love the Beast as a friend and seems content to live in his world, until she learns of her father's sickness and begs to return home to check on him, a wish the Beast grants on the grounds that she return in a week.  Belle agrees happily, but is tricked by her family into saying, much to the mental strain of the Beast.  Avenant and Belle's brother manage to return to the Beast's house and attempt to break in and steal his riches.  Belle learns of the plans and finds her way back just as Avenant climbs into a forbidden room housing the goddess Diana who shoots Avenant with an arrow, ultimately, transferring the curse of the Beast upon him and allowing for Belle to fall for the Beast who is now human and just so happens to be a prince as well.

I made visual notes of the difference between this absolutely cinematic surrealist masterpiece and its grandiose and also cinematic animated counterpart.  It was not until a recent discussion about the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast that I realized that the film, at the very least, passively supports women existing in verbally violent relationships, simply because they know the male figure's temper is a result of other forces, when, in fact, these assumptions, in no way make his demeaning and spiteful actions any less terrible.  In Cocteau's world, the Beast is just the opposite and is actually quite caring, loving and egalitarian, essentially allowing Belle to move freely through his housing, and remember her entrapment is not the result of his doing ultimately, but instead; her father who allowed her to go in his place.  This also ties back to the notion that were it not for Belle's father and his obvious monetary issues, for which he places the onus on Belle because the family simply treats her as a doormat to be walked upon.  Hell, even the charming Avenant clearly possesses ulterior motives for his romantic gestures towards Belle, most of which seem to have a devious sexual desire about them.  The Beast's difference becomes not a thing of physicality, but morality, he seems to navigate world void of capitalist desires or the false notion that one will find understanding and unprecedented happiness through continual gains monetarily.  An otherness narrative also emerges within this narrative text, because, unlike the Disney version, viewers are led to assume that this transformation is irreversible and it is not until the closing moments of the film that we realize that love and distance from the greed of the rest of the world can help the Beast return to normal from his disaffirmed self.  Even his own disfigurement is suggested to be a result of the terrible actions of his others, in this case their wrongdoings with a witch who curses the Prince, since his parents refuse to believe in its possibility.  When Angela Lansbury sang "A Tale as Old as Time" it is quite possible that this cinematic treasure sat in the back of her mind.

Key Scene:  The moment when Belle first walks into the Beast's castle in slow-motion with the candelabra held by human arms is certifiably one of the highlights of surrealist filmmaking on the whole.

Buy this bluray, it is a staple of the Criterion Collection and was clearly made with much time and dedication.