The Sign Outside Does Not Say Possibility of Vacancies: Bug (2006)

I will navigate toward a film if it involves a variety of things, some of these include specific details like the acting of Michael Shannon, or the incredibly engaging post-structuralist cinematic leanings of William Friedkin.  In more general terms I am always intrigued by a film that decidedly limits itself in terms of cinematic space or revitalizes what one would assume to be a genre focus that has been wrung dry of any critical possibilities.  Imagine by elation when I discovered that all of these elements were on play simultaneously in the 2006 film Bug, which for a variety of different reasons appears to have come and went with little to no flair, despite it being a rather stellar work in not only the genre of horror-thriller, but also a rather well-executed exercise in narrative filmmaking that works within a linear framework, but still manages to reject any degree of normalcy.  I would even boldly assert that while, Friedkin has always been one to push the cinematic narrative conventions within the real of traditional industry filmmaking, Bug is a work fully entrenched within the experimental and to a degree the avant garde.  Perhaps this films  biggest injustice was its being marketed as a horror film, something that is, undoubtedly, true about its existence and is certainly what led me to engaging with it in the first place, only barely making the cut for inclusion this month, but it is so much more that simply a genre piece with well-delivered elements.  Friedkin's Bug is a very thought out and pin-pointed working of the cinematic tool and its ability to capture the human psyche, particularly one whose fracturing extend not only outside a singular body, but might even occupy multiple versions of self-hood within even a single extension.  Friedkin's film makes sure not to flail about with some of the traditional narrative establishment elements, instead choosing focus his time on the hyper-specific elements of his two main characters, resulting in allowing Michael Shannon to shine, as is usually the case, however, much to my surprise, once the usually underwhelming Ashley Judd does find her footing within this film she manages to exude her own very respectable performance, culminating in a film whose veneer is so thin that realizing one is watching a revolution in cinema practices unfold is only one of its many fantastic elements.

Bug centers on the character of Agnes White (Ashley Judd) an apparently down and out on her luck woman who has holed herself up in the walls of a motel room, avoiding the calls from her recently paroled ex-husband by engaging in heavy consumption of alcohol and self-medication through a lethal cocktail of various pills and narcotics.  While visiting a friend at her job one night, she tangentially meets Peter Evans (Michael Shannon) a ex-military soldier who is considerably soft spoken, but, nonetheless, quite nice to Agnes who takes a quick liking to his simple earnestness.  After an string of incredibly open discussion about their pasts and personal opinions Agnes invites Peter to stay in her place, if only for a non-platonic comforting figure, a notion that seems to parallel Peter's own desires as he ends up spending the night sleeping on the floor at the foot of Agnes' bed.  When Agnes awakes she discovers, not Peter, but her ex-husband Jerry (Harry Connick Jr.) in her house she panics, but again the reemergence of Peter seems to save the situation, his calm attitude diffusing the situation with Jerry. It is not long after this encounter, however, that it becomes clear that Peter might not be as well of as it would suggest, admitting to paranoia surrounding being bitten by bugs, after the two awake during a bed bug attack after a night of intercourse.  What begins as an innocent consideration of a person who is really picky about what things touch his skin, unfolds into something far more complex as Agnes realizes Peter is deeply invested in notions of conspiracy theory and his own body being a vessel of experimentation for the American government, causing him to begin invasion proofing the house with a combination of insect killers and eventually lining the place with aluminum foil, even going so far as to attack a man claiming to be an advisor to him when he was allegedly in a mental hospital, this reaction part of what Peter believes to be a larger conspiracy.  After the murder of this man, Peter questions the loyalty of Agnes one last time, before the two complete an ultimate cleansing from the invasion of bugs, in that they burn the room down, self-immulating themselves in the process.  A snippet in the middle of the credits, however, suggest that a world of normalcy exists somewhere after the plot has ended, perhaps even the possibility that nothing truly occurred in the first place.

I cannot even begin to fathom what I might consider in terms of the critical theories and themes running throughout this movie.  There are the obvious approaches which consider the film for its varied and violent depictions of a particular sect of paranoid schizophrenics whose fears lead to layers of self-mutilation that in its most intense forms extends onto other posies. A sort of Münchausen by proxy in an extreme cinematic form.  Another reading could also look at the ways in which this segments the body horror film into a very small space, looking at two individuals personal identity struggles and the ways in which the outside world is infesting its demands and purportedly "ideal" way of existing upon them, while they react in an allergic and grotesque way.  I could also attempt to tackle the psycho-sexual issues at play in this film, particularly those considering the paternal and maternal in relation to a lost youth or childhood.  All of this is working within Friedkin's Bug and to great success I might add.  Where I think another narrative might emerge is that the film also carries a degree of addiction narrative about it, both in regards to Agnes and Peter, who seem to constantly be either consuming or injecting things into their bodies that are far from healthy, each shade deeper on this scale resulting in their falling apart as humans in very real and tangible ways.  For Peter his decaying is in a much more psychological way, although this fracturing from reality also leads him to remove teeth from his mouth again also a possible result of unseen drug use.  Agnes' own fractured identity as a result of addiction seems somewhat more apparent beginning with her blatant alcoholism and her deep depression induced at the reminder of losing a child, although its factuality is always up for debate, perhaps being a direct result of her alcoholism in the first place.  The narrative, as such, becomes an issue of two addicts coming together and feeding off one anothers' drive to destroy, ultimately, doing so not only to bodies that are completely healthy and trying to help, but to their very space of living, as if to break from the confines of existence itself.

Key Scene:  Michael Shannon and teeth.  Michael Shannon and Ashley Judd talking about variants of insects.  Michael Shannon doing anything.

This is a cheap enough DVD to buy, I assure you it is worth the minimal investment.

Some Boys Run Away, But I Wouldn't Advise It: The Devil's Backbone (2001)

Including a Guillermo del Toro film in a month of horror films is almost a giving, considering that despite his movement through a few different genres, he manages to perfectly entrench himself within the horror film tropes, often using them in wildly inventive and engaging ways both in terms of pulling from a classical understanding of Gothic style horror, while also infusing it with his own understanding of the supernatural as it emerges within Mexican culture.  Indeed, at this point one can even begin considering the particularly auteur elements of del Toro since it is possible to pick up visual and narrative themes between something like Cronos and his much larger, yet equally engaging Pacific Rim.  Furthermore, I had all but convinced myself that del Toro's masterpiece was Pan's Labyrinth one of my earliest emerging cinephile experiences, and quite possibly the work that pushed me into an understanding that film could be something much larger than the traditional three act structure and move a viewer towards a more profound understanding of the themes at work.  I was, as such, surprised when The Devil's Backbone, his 2001 offering began to unfold in front of my eyes, because what I was viewing was not only excellent, creepy and indicative of all things praised aside del Toro's name, but it was miles ahead of the stunning and near perfect Pan's Labyrinth.  In this film, which doubles as a consideration of the Spanish American War through a paranormal metaphor and orphanage setting, becomes a clearly sentimental, albeit in a somewhat unsettling way, film that possesses a view of the world that could only exist through the eyes of somebody who understands the innocence and, at times, ignorance of youth.  Yet, del Toro realizes that his films are not at all intended for a young audience, although I am sure he revels in the thought of them encountering their oneiric, surreal feel, thus fusing his films with a high degree of psycho-sexual tension, doubled in wild ways through the steam punk world he has come to embrace.  This particular composition never allows for viewers to feel a sense of safety, despite it being a visually sumptuous film, often inserting the presence of spectral figures with no warning or non-diagetic cue, to del Toro, the other side of perception is constantly present and to awake to its intrigue and possible threats would be enough to drive a movie comfortably, the fact that there is also a well-developed and engaging storyline is yet another factor speaking to the proficiency of del Toro as a filmmaker.

The Devil's Backbone focuses on the existence of a minimally ran orphanage for boys during the Spanish Civil War, one that exists purely out of the goodwill of its founders Casares (Federico Luppi) and Carmen (Marisa Paredes).  Growing considerably in age, both Casares and Carmen rely on the help of their groundskeeper Jacinto (Eduardo Noriega), as well as his romantic love interest a teacher at the orphanage named Conchita (Irene Visedo).  The boys at the orphanage seem quite content to go about their lives in a rather desultory manner, despite their limited space, always minding the presence of a ghost they purport to exist.  Indeed, when a new child arrives named Carlos (Fernando Tieve) they make sure to bully and haze him into encountering the presence of the ghost named Santi, although they are unaware that the hyper-prescient Carlos noticed the ghost the moment he arrive at the orphanage, marked by its unique possession of a defused bomb sitting in the center of its courtyard.  Despite an initial confrontation with the orphanage bully Jaime (Inigo Garces) Carlos is able to befriend him through proving his trustworthy nature, while also showing a genuine interest in the whereabouts of Santi and precisely what led to his disappearance, or as Carlos and Jaime assume demise.  Meanwhile, it is revealed that Jacinto and Carmen have been in cohorts, the decidedly younger groundskeeper engaging in sexual acts with the disabled Carmen in exchange for the promise of sharing in the large amount of gold stashed away in the orphanage's safe.  This all happens as the Spanish Civil War slowly begins to encroach upon the space of the orphanage, causing paranoia amongst the children, as well as Carmen and Jacinto who see their wealth becoming threatened by the invasion of greedy soldiers.  Furthermore, during a confessional moment on the aprt of Jaime, Carlos discovers that Jacinto is actually the one responsible for the death of Santi, attacking him when he is caught rifling through the safe by Santi who had been spending the evening catching slugs with Jaime.  This leads to an act of vengeance that is jointly executed by the young boys of the orphanage and Santi's spectral presence, but not before the destruction of the orphanage by a vengeful Jacinto.  Yet, considering that Santi proves to be far from the only ghost in the space of the orphanage, the group is able to overpower Jacinto and leave the orphanage to engage in a quest all their own, clearly grown from the experience.

A lot of things could be stated about del Toro movies, doubly so when he clearly situates them within such an event as the Spanish Civil War.  As such, perhaps the most obvious way to consider this film is to look at the way trauma affects a persons bodied identity, especially intriguing within the context of the film being about paranormal presences.  Carlos and the fellow boys at the orphanage reflect a group of children suffering from abandonment, some by their parents choice, while others were drawn to the space when their parents died in the violence of the war.  Not having a means with which to speak to their anxiety and pains of loss, they work actively to reject any sense of oppressive forces or authoritative figures occurring, whether it be through embodying silence in face of authority figures, or acting out violently against one another, whom they deem equal enough to fight, a survival of the fittest mentality kicking in, not because they are animalistic, but because they only understand individualistic survival they faced after loss and abandonment.  Gender embodies itself far more fascinatingly through a figure like Carmen, who herself has become a victim of amputation, although the narrative is far less specific in how this occurred.  What is made clear through her character is the way in which her lack has caused her to feel considerably less worthy as a woman, doubled by her age in relation to Conchita, with whom Jacinto is romantically involved.  Realizing that her power is fading, Carmen asserts power through the incorporation of money and its power, accepting her advancement and bodily privilege must be bought, nevermind that she hides the gold in her already heavy prosthetic leg, the castration element to this metaphor becoming wildly clear.  Ultimately though, the most interesting character is the spectral figure of Santi, whose association with the deformity known as "devil's backbone" causes his already paranormal spatial existence to become a thing of impossibility.  By causing him to be a figure floating through the world, doubled by his blood constantly flowing and rising upward with an airy quality, del Toro infuses Santi, the same sort of wandering nature of the other boys in the orphanage, although where they seek survival and hesitation to bond with others, Santi only wants two things, to rekindle with his friends despite being bodily detached form doings so, while also exacting revenge on the threatening patriarchal figure of Jacinto.  The fact that del Toro adds on scenes of killing and execution happening in the war only make the narrative idea of body, identity and to a degree sacrifice that much more fascinating.

Key Scene:  Carlos' first lengthy encounter with Santi is something fresh and eerie in terms of paranormal horror cinema and del Toro executes it with perfection.

But the Criterion bluray for this film. It is absolutely mesmerizing.

Sometimes Truth Defies Reason: Frailty (2001)

Whenever I take upon a viewing marathon, particularly one that involves me watching a ton of films of a specific genre I attempt to do a bit of research and find some examples of criminally underrated films that for a variety of reasons were overlooked and written off, yet prove to be the highlights of that particular year in filmmaking and even stand on their own against the giants of the genre.  While 2001's Frailty is not a perfect film, nor could it compete with the likes of The Exorcist or its contemporary masterpieces in the same ambiance and from the same year, particularly Mulholland Drive, it does manage to allow the important influence of these respective works wash over the narrative and make it become a visually engaging work with a narrative that could only work with the right levels of earnest dedication from all those involved.  Flowing in a simulacra of saturated filmic space, created by the mesmerizing cinematography of Bill Butler, Frailty manages to possess precisely this degree of direction and certainty, only benefitted by the always rewarding, if not initially realized, acting of Matthew McConaughey.  The fact that this is the feature length directorial debut of Bill Paxton, perhaps better known for his role on Big Love, makes the discovery of something like Frailty that much more rewarding.  Essentially, there is no quantifiable reason as to why a person would like Frailty on paper, nor is there an explanation as to how people would have sought it ought upon release, because it would appears to be a derivative and contrived piece of filmmaking with little to offer to the genre.  Derivative it is not, perfectly seasoned with a blend of horror classics and an understanding of a changing landscape in narrative filmmaking, Frailty manages to step up and compete with the other great puzzle films emerging around the time, such as Memento, The Machinist and in small ways the masterwork Zodiac.  To have been the person who rediscovered this film must have really been quite the revelation, not because it is has now become a much adored contemporary classic, but because it clearly appears to be remerging in the most word of mouth way possible.  I certainly know it will receive a healthy dose of acknowledgement on my part, right beside a few of my contemporary overlooked horror films in Session 9 and the science-fiction survival nightmare that is The Cube.

Frailty begins at the FBI headquarters in Dallas, Texas wherein a man introducing himself as Fenton Meeks (Matthew McConaughey) explains to Agent Wesley Doyle (Powers Boothe) that he is rather certain about the whereabouts of the God's Hand Killer, suspecting it to be his mentally unstable brother, who has recently committed suicide.  Suspicious for obvious reasons, Agent Doyle demands that Fenton provide some substantial evidence to such bold acquisitions, leading to Fenton telling a rather lengthy back story about his childhood growing up with his brother Adam (Jeremy Sumpter) in a single parent household with their father, played by Bill Paxton.  Things, while tough financially, are relatively easy going until in the middle of the night their father claims to have seen a vision of angels explaining that it is the job of not only himself, but Fenton and Adam to become slayers of demons in the name of God.  Thinking that it is simply a wild delusion of grandeur, Fenton, and to a degree Adam, write off the entire incident and continue on with their daily lives, even going so far as to overlook their fathers repeated returning home with items related to the killing of demons, the most disturbing being the various weapons he purports to be key to the act of slaying.  Yet, even this does not truly cause the children to step back and critique the situation, but when the father does indeed bring home a woman, bound and kills her with an axe, claiming that her sins had resulted in her becoming demonic, both the children appear to be initially hesitant, particularly Fenton who immediately questions the behaviors of his father and their larger implications on society.  This questioning on the pat of Fenton, leads to a divide between himself and Adam who sides with their father and betrays Fenton's desire to run away.  This leads to Fenton being locked in a cellar until, as his father says he is able to see God, at which point he will be released.  Through eventual dehydration and becoming stir crazy, Fenton claims to have seen God and then begins joining in the killings, as though it were something forever engrained in his psyche.  These actions carry the narrative back into the present where Agent Doyle and Fenton arrive at the alleged place of the burials.  It is at this point, where it becomes convoluted as to whether the narrative told was indeed through the yes of Fenton, or through those of Adam, perhaps even existing as a bizarre and troubling version of both.

Frailty could be interpreted as many different narratives, all having to pull from a decidedly complex narrative, that masks itself in a deceptively obvious form of linearity.  One could certainly make a case for it being a narrative of split-personality disorder, wherein one character is, in fact, extending his former reflections into multiple characters to help rationalize the terrible actions he committed, a reading that is further suggested by the general synthetic look of the film, one where glossy shine makes each action seem impossibly fabricated.  Another could simply be a study of the nature of evil and whether or not ridding the world of such entities should be deemed murder, the Texas setting for this reading making the narrative that much more complex.  I, however, am rather convinced that it is actually a metaphor, albeit obvious at times, about a troubling past with child abuse that was exacted upon children by a father figure.  Indeed, the narrative suggests that the family is void of a maternal figure, but the ways in which food magically appears in scenes and domestic chores happen to always be complete, would suggest that the memories spouted by Fenton are missing an element purposefully, perhaps an abused wife so minimized at the hands of an angry father that she has become literally non-existant in the narrative.  I know that the film suggest she has passed away, but considering its willingness to alter and shift factual understanding at a moments notice make such assumptions quite tenuous.  The reading of it as such a film is reinforced by particular images of Fenton possessing bleeding hands from working all day digging an impossibly large ditch.  Sure these could be callouses, but considering the father's reaction and awkward willingness to help heal the damage it could equally be read as one such act of abuse.  The fact that Denton is also depicted falling asleep during class, reflect his worry of the visions of God trouble facing his family, but again, it also could indicate an individual so emotionally distraught in the space of his home that he can no longer rest without severe anxiety and distress.  Add these images and subtle narratives to the notion that Adam and Fenton have considerably altering views on the nature of their father's goodness, and such a narrative begins to become rather blatant.  Indeed, should nothing else sound plausible, turning ones attention to the nailing the hatch shut on the shed scene, pretty much makes it a fact.

Key Scene:  The vision of the first weapon sequence is rather basic trick cinematography and special effects, but it occurs with such a degree of realized execution as to completely change the pace of the film, and is only one time when which this occurs in the stellar film.

This DVD and bluray is cheap, I would recommend the latter as it is a decidedly cinematic film and well worth a blind buy.

My Revenge Will Seek You Out: Black Sunday (1960)

Also known as The Mask of Satan, Black Sunday is essentially how the world became aware of Mario Bava, horror provocateur and cult cinema mad man.  Now I am fully aware that he made movies well before this work, as well as even more output following, but with its recent bluray release and the access it has to horror fans via Netflix Watch Instantly, it has gain a new level of adoration.  Admittedly, I was far from completely enamored with this film, but it does have me curious about undertaking more work by the Italian director, primarily as a means to see how much German Expressionism might seep into this other work.  Also, I am deeply intrigued by some of the special effects that unfold during this film, proving equally baffling to Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity which I also saw yesterday, although the spectacle is certainly favored in the latter, the execution is no less dynamite.  I guess my hesitation in fully embracing a work like Black Sunday resides in having a considerable trouble getting behind works of gothic vampire horror, because in my mind their dreary setting, ambient soundtracks and general appeal is often squandered in some half realized narrative of sex and lust, which is overemphasized and always undermines anything worth a damn in the film.  While Black Sunday certainly has moments where this threatens to be the demise of the film, for the most part, the narrative manages to side step any egregious errors and remain watchable and poignant.  I am also completely aware of the film having a now fifty year history behind it, making its pristine look that much more captivating considering the life and rediscovery of horror films to be a less than prevalent act since it is a genre that seems content to begin its history within the late seventies.  While Black Sunday will never be on the level of something like Carnival of Souls it does manages to contain several moments of pure cerebral and surreal intensity, and at this point the dubbing in such a film is more endearing than grating, say nothing of the absolutely ethereal performance delivered by Barbara Steele who may or may not have had the aid of a prosthetic mask.

Black Sunday begins with a historical event focusing on a series of executions in a non-descript Moldovan town, where villagers and clergy men use various tools and religious iconography to destroy a series of demons in their village, one an older man and the other a younger woman, suggesting their ties to satan.  Using masks that are lined with spikes, the villagers slay the creatures dubbed vampires and bury them within coffins in an underground labyrinth.  The narrative then flashes forward two hundred years to focus on Dr. Thomas Kruvajan (Andrea Checchi) and Dr. Andre Gorobec (John Richardson) who are traveling through Moldova in hopes of making up time in route to a medical conference.  A minor vehicle accidents leads to their having to hole up in a local castle, where they immediately discover the tomb of Asa (Barabara Steele) the woman murdered for being a vampire some two centuries earlier.  This bizarre discovery is only made doubly so when they return to their carriage to find Katia (Barbara Steele) who takes on an uncanny resemblance to Asa.  An accident earlier, involving Kruvajan, results in his blood reawakening the vampire of Asa, who begins wreaking havoc on the two doctors as well as Katia, eventually even bringing back to life Javuto (Arturo Dominici) her partner and half of a Hall and Oates vampire cover band.  Between the two of them, they attempt to offer the doctors a chance at eternal life in exchange for their blood, while the fascination implemented by both Asa and Javuto is strong the two doctors are able to deny the advances, instead turning to Katia for suggestions on how to slay the assumedly immortal beasts.  After a series of scenes with Asa attempting to pass as Katia, only to fail to turn her when she finds a crucifix around Katia's neck, the return of Gorobec affords him the ability to slay the real vampire in Asa, turning her in the moment to an shriveled up corpse, while Kruvajan knocks Javuto into a fire, burning his body permanently. Katia now free from the spell of the vampires, awakens as young and jovial as ever.

I have not seen nearly enough gothic horror films and only marginally more vampire flicks, so I would be hard pressed to claim myself an authority on either.  Furthermore, I am hesitant to appropriate things such as tropes to such a specific genre of films.  Nonetheless,  I have the space and certainly cannot help but consider the particular way in which the "intellectual" figure emerges within the space of these films.  Of course, since they are classic works in gothic horror the figure of the intellectual is always male, driven by his unbridled desire for truth and scientific fact, he often finds himself in curious situations only to become involved out of a quest to explain that which is inexplicable.  In many of these films, particularly the Dracula films "proper," this intellectual is represented through the figure of Van Helsing, but even in these instances there is an acceptance of the paranormal as a fact in the world, one that is confronted with goodness to overcome the evil.  In Black Sunday one can certainly pull many elements of the traditional good versus evil narrative, but it is clear, particularly in their dual presence, that the intellectual is intended to be seen as the ultimate savior in a world of violence one exacted by and upon all involved, whether it be the blood thirsty vampires or the villagers who kill these creatures without even the slightest attempt to understand their actions.  Indeed, that is not to say that the intellectual within the space of a gothic horror film is void of character flaws.  The major cause for concern with such figures, despite their deep understanding of science, human nature or archaic folklore still seems to revolve around some degree of sexual repression, whether by choice or social situation.  The relationship between Gorobec becomes particularly fascinating as one watches him fall for Katia, and assumedly Asa in the process, it is precisely this infatuation that nearly leads to his point of intellectual privilege becoming undermined and leading to his own turning into a vampire, void of any sense of rational thought when, in such a scenario, his need to devour would overcome his desire to learn and understand.  Interestingly, this film also reconsiders the intellectual to a degree by affording Katia a considerable opinion in how to slay the creatures, one that proves both well-reasoned and useful.

Key Scene:  The simultaneous aging and return to youth of Asa and Katia is cinematic magic even by contemporary standards.

This is on Netflix, take a chance to watch it as it is an undisputed classic and certainly a higher end work in vampire film.

You Only Live For Tomorrow: The Man From Nowhere (2010)

One of the more interesting elements of engaging with this kung fu marathon was what I knew would be its affects on contemporary action films, particularly ones that are much more in line with the action/crime thriller than the special effects laden, high flying fight sequences of their predecessors.  While I could have picked from a variety of different Chinese films for this, I decided to branch out slightly and consider a film from South Korea, because, after all, it is my area of research interest and an excuse to catch up with yet another film I had been meaning to check out, this time Jeong-beom Lee's The Man From Nowhere.  I say it is only a slight departure from the Chinese films so far, in that it does indeed involve Chinese characters, despite its decidedly South Korean setting, although transnational narratives are far from unusual in South Korean cinema, or much of East Asian cinema for that matter, when one considers proximity and politics.  Despite all this I was quite hesitant to include The Man from Nowhere on this month of viewing, because for all intents and purposes it did not appear to be a kungfu film proper, nor even a film whose fight sequences exist with a martial arts based setting.  Yet multiple "top martial arts films" lists included this, which I felt justified its inclusion, and while  guns are uses in this film on a few occasions, I was quite happy to discover that this is, at its heart a martial arts action thriller, especially considering that when action does occur it often does involve a considerable amount of very intense and well-choreographed hand-to-hand combat.  Considering its contemporary style and the state of South Korean cinema, however, the fighting is not poetic or evocative of rhythmic dance, but is, instead; quite brutal and jarringly stripped of its stylized elements, drawing attention to the scars and aftermath of very real physical engagements.  Sure it is amazing to watch the protagonist deliver a viscerally filmed beat down, but it always follows with images that remind viewers of the physical tolls such brutality takes on the enemy, as well as the body of the hero.  It also does not hurt that The Man From Nowhere might be one of the best shot action films I have ever seen.

The Man From Nowhere, despite being a South Korean film, shies away from completely non-linear narration, excluding a few flashbacks, yet manages to provide a gripping story in the process.  The film primarily focuses on the drifter Cha Tae-sik (Bin Won) a pawnbroker, who seems entirely detached from the world around him, aside from a friendship he has formed with a young girl named So-mi (Sae-ron Kim) whose mother, a strung out heroin addict often abandons her to the streets in drug fueled indifference.  Content to exist as a pseudo-guardian angel to So-mi, Cha merely moves about his world, although when he fails to help her escape trouble with the cops she dismisses him and suggest that he is just as bad to her as the rest of the world.  It is revealed, however, that So-mi's mother has recently been involved in a high scale drug heist and upon failing to deliver the necessary goods becomes wanted by the mob, who take little time finding her and destroying her, also kidnapping So-mi in the process.  Cha, is also confronted by the mob, who want their drugs which have been hidden in an item So-mi has pawned.  When the mob members assume that Cha was involved and attack him, it is revealed that his fighting abilities are excellent, destroying one man while disarming another in seconds.  Word of this gets to the various higher ups and they enact a plan to exploit Cha for his skills with the false promise that he will be afforded the return of So-mi after a completion of the various tasks.  Unfortunately, as Cha realizes he is being played into part of a larger mob and police battle, landing himself briefly in jail, all the while worrying for he safety of Cha.  Upon escape through a bit of cleverness on Cha's part, he takes it upon himself to hunt down the mob, while the police discover that his skill set is the result of a past life in the Korean equivalent of the CIA, where he lost his pregnant wife in a hit put out by a mob member.  This insurmountable loss, helps to explain Cha's unchecked drive as he enters the mob's secret hide out, only to discover that they are exploiting young children for free labor in meth production and eventually trafficking them sexually.  Cha then loses all sense of self-control, killing all the mob members and destroying the lab, eventually chasing down the boss of the mob and shooting him in his car, all before finally discovering that So-mi is indeed safe.  The closing moments depict Cha playing father figure to the now parentless So-mi, before he heads off to jail for his necessary, albeit, illegal killing spree.

Ethics are a thing that play heavily into South Korean cinema and something that I have discussed ad nausea in relation to the countries contemporary cinema, whether it be in the misappropriation of meaning through religion in Secret Sunshine or the notion of justified revenge that exists in Sympathy for Lady Vengeance.  In these films and many others, it is clear that a moral compass is far harder to align than one might like to admit, and it would certainly seem to extend to the narrative space of The Man from Nowhere as well.  However, I would posit that, unlike the previously mentioned films, it is made quite clear that Cha and So-mi are good characters, whereas the mob boss and So-mi's mother are less so, although it does not justify the latter's brutal death in the slightest.  The police, perhaps serve as a bit more of a grey area in terms of ethical outlook, but they are certainly far from corrupt and are merely attempting to execute their jobs while working against an economically powerful and transnationally fueled crime syndicate, therefore, any interference, even in Cha's taking out of major figures, proves detrimental because it means they find themselves bogged down in paperwork and rediscovering leads.  Indeed, The Man from Nowhere plays out much more like a sporadic and intense game of chess than one of insidious warfare.  There seems to be a set of agreements about how events should occur, yet, what is less certain is how many individuals are playing in the game.  In this game, Cha is somewhat of a wild card, not because he acts in a counterintuitive manner, but because where the mobsters desire money and safety and the cops desire justice, Cha merely wants to assure the safety of So-mi at any cost, driven to act more violent as he comes to realize her chances at survival are dwindling.  Indeed, his breaking out of the jail is interesting, because he seems to understand that the cops are not terrible people, but, nonetheless, serve as a barrier to his ultimate concern, therefore, he maims them temporarily, as opposed to the mobsters whose exploitation of children and those without power is loathsome and deserved of death.  Indeed, by the end of this film I found myself drawing parallels to the killing spree enacted by Liam Neeson in Taken, although in every tangible and qualitative way The Man from Nowhere is a far better film than Taken, which I already adore greatly, I think that only speaks to the wonder in this recent South Korean masterpiece.

Key Scene:  In the case of this film it is a singe shot, which shows Cha after he has fallen out of a window only to land on a large net.  I let out a distinctive gasp of amazement, something that rarely occurs when I watch action films.

This is available streaming on Netflix and Hulu and I am sure it will look just fine, however, this bluray is beyond amazing and worthy of owning.  I waited with baited breath for Jeong-beom Lee's next offering.

Depression Is The Inability To Construct A Future: Side Effects (2013)

If it were not for the absolutely amazing and impeccable work being put out by Paul Thomas Anderson I would be in line to call Steven Soderbergh the best director currently working in film.  Always consistent and always pushing his limitations the rather unfortunate news that he is considering retirement is of great concern to film critics and cinephiles the world over, especially since he is making a conscience decision to move onto other non-film related endeavors.  Given his keen concern for perfection I am sure his next ventures will be met with much success, but it is still a bummer to think about, especially since films like Contagion and Bubble have received high praise and are certainly among some of my favorite films of their respective years, and I am a defendant of both The Informant! and Magic Mike as being highly underrated, yet keenly engaging films.  In fact, Soderbergh as a filmmaker represented on this blog is just short of the recently reviewed Kim Ki-duk for having the most films in which I have written full reviews.  Where Soderbergh does seem to be winning is in the area of receiving the most comparisons, scrolling through some of my past reviews it is rather clear that I associate a certain sort of deep focus minimalism with the director and deservedly so because he continually delivers a high quality product in a packaging that is clearly distinguishable as his own.  This is certainly not an exception for his most recent film Side Effects, which comprises itself of a handful of actors Soderbergh has relied on in the past and visually defines his auteur status, even if this proves to be his last film, aside of course for his highly anticipated HBO movie, Behind the Candelabra which is about, of all things, Liberace, a subject so sensitive that it could only work in the delicate surgeon-like hands of Soderbergh.  If Side Effects proves to be his final feature film then so be it, while it will certainly not stand to be his best work, it is still an exercise in excellent filmmaking and takes a plot with twists and deception and never allows viewers any moments to reside if comfort.  I was one of two people in the theater watching this movie, but when a certain, very violent scene occurred I was aware of my own gasps of astonishment, as well as those of the other person.  Unsettling would be the word to describe these moments, but considering that it is generally an absolutely bleak and stark film, one could never really define the viewing experience as welcoming.

Side Effects in all its multi-person narrative centers on two main figures, the first being Emily Taylor (Rooney Mara) a woman who is suffering from various degrees of psychotic breakdowns as a direct result of losing her illustrious and well-to-do lifestyle after the arrest of her husband Martin (Channing Tatum) after being found guilty for insider trading.  She is happy about his release from prison, but when the stress proves too much she drives herself into the wall of a parking garage, thus leading to her being hospitalized for suicidal tendencies.  It is there that she meets the doctor on duty, psychiatrist Jonathan Banks (Jude Law) whose hopes of finding success and a great future for his fiancee and her daughter have led him to take up extended shifts, as well as agreeing to more work with experimental pharmaceuticals.  However, when a combination of anti-depressents and anti-sleepwalking medicine lead to Emily violent stabbing her husband, Jonathan's involvement with the girl is put into question, especially since it appears as though he was solely responsible for the misdiagnosis and its subsequent fatal results.  In the process, Emily's former psychiatrist Victoria Siebert (Catherine Zeta-Jones) steps prominently into the picture spouting advice and opinions about Emily's past mental issues.  When it becomes evident that Victoria has her own interests at heart and that Emily is consistently attempting to undermine Jonathan's well being, he takes it upon himself to delve deeper into the case and prove that his actions were not to be blamed for Emily's terrible acts.  Of course, the added burden of this preoccupation with innocence leads to his being chastised for poor performance at work, which causes his fiancee to question his motives, only worsened when a set of compromising pictures surface, suggesting that Emily and Jonathan had a relationship that extended beyond patient/client lines.  This last form of loss leads Jonathan to throw everything at proving his innocence, an act that proves beneficial, although incredibly trying for the young doctor, however, he proves that deception is afoot and that proving one's sanity may well be more difficult than arguing for their insanity.

Much like his stellar film Contagion, or any film by Soderbergh that focuses on a specific subject, Side Effects deals with the world of prescription drugs, to be specific anti-depressants, in a near ethnographic manner.  The low key manner of his filmmaking and concern for story and character over visual flair leads one to constantly have to remind themselves that what they are watching is indeed fictional and far from full truths.  Perhaps this works exceptionally well in regards to this film, because it is decidedly concerned with the frail line between reality and illusion and to what degree one can cross those lines in the name of escapism or self-preservation.  At various points throughout the film each of the main characters engages in their various forms of deception, each with their own ulterior motives and desires, it is not a question of the ethics of the act of lying or purposefully deceiving the world, because as many Soderbergh films have done in the past, this is a relational issue.   People in the world of his films, and, to some degree, the world outside the theaters, are prone to deception as long as it assures the happiness of those around them.  I would be hard pressed to find even the most sanctimonious of people who do not lie in the face of despair or sadness to push towards the possibility of happiness.  This certainly seems to be the case for the relationship between Emily and Martin, they had an entire life of all they desired predicated upon high degrees of lying and deception and when the light is thrown upon this lie, it is hard to maintain the performance even in the most intimate of settings.  As such, Side Effects brilliantly captures the world of pharmaceuticals to great detail, but that is only the surface commentary of the film, because at a much deeper level Soderbergh seems intent on considering how we use drugs, and the chemical deception they provide to mask our delusional view of the world around us, as well as an excuse to actually go of the deep end when it proves advantageous.  To the world of Side Effects, drugs are a secondary problem to the general acceptance of lying for sanity's sake.

Key Scene:  Soderbergh goes Hitchcock via a Psycho style scene and boy was it intense to watch on the big screen.

This is a great film and considering that it could be his last theatrical release, I feel as though you owe it to yourself and the great auteur to seek it out at your local cinema.

Lust Awakens The Desire To Possess: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring (2003)

It has been a bit of time since I watched a Korean film, let alone reviewed one within the context of the blog and I felt that an injustice since it is the country within which I place my primary focus academically, particularly in regards to the Korean New Cinema movement.  With this in mind it was a high possibility that if I were to pick a film completely by chance that it would fall within the directorial scope of Kim Ki-duk, whose works are wide ranging and nearly all controversial.  In fact, I have to my recollection reviewed at least four of his films on this blog already, which may well be the highest for anyone yet.  I would be hesitant to call him the Takishi Miike of South Korea considering that it suggests a heightened state of shock value, but Ki-duk's films are certainly not for the easy going or those seeking a visually light film.  Even in the case of Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring, one can realize that underneath the veneer of beautiful cinematography and a poetic reflection on the nature of adoration and sacrifice lays a highly graphic and terribly abrasive consideration of the nature of sexual awakening, violence against those things without power and the general issues of growing up and learning to navigate a curious and ever changing world.  I would pair this particular film with Ki-duck's The Bow, although wherein that film the director seems terribly preoccupied with the idea of entrapment and its justifications in the name of "protection," Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring is near wholly concerned with the ability of beings to move through the world with complete lack of hindrances.  One can see the notion of burden throughout the film, but the metaphors are layered and near impossible to read as any singular statement.  Furthermore, the episodic nature of this particular work, divided into seasons, as the title implies, help contest even the possibility of forming or obtaining burdens as something that is seen as fleeting and capable of appearing and reappearing at a moments notice.  This film, like other Ki-duk works is not suggesting a single possible answer or degree of oppression, but is constantly aware that as things they are subject to repeated change, especially in their decidedly intangible nature.


Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring focuses on the "closed off" world of an aging monk and his student a very young boy.  I put closed off in quotations because the world is entered through two doors via a point of view shot, yet nothing seems to be restricting this world aside from a doorway.  Segmented as noted before the first section follows the young monk about the natural world of the expansive monastery, where he finds humor in tying rocks to various creatures and watching them struggle to move.  Enraged by his behavior the elderly monk forces the young boy to carry a rock on his back while he goes about attempting to amend his wrongs.  Some of the animals, however, have died as a result of his cruel experiment, leading to a deep sadness in the boy.  The narrative then moves forward a few years and witnesses the arrival of a mother with her sick teenage daughter, roughly the same age as the boy who is now a teenager himself, despite the outset desire to heal the girl, the young man becomes infatuated with the woman and the two begin a sex heavy relationship, only to be discovered by the old monk who demands that she leave at once.  Angry, the teenage boy follows behind and leaves the monk alone, thus leading to the next section of the film, where the young monk returns somewhat older, heartbroken and bitter for placing his faith in a woman who eventually cheated on him.  Upon return, the old monk makes the man carve words into the dock of the pier of the monastery until his anger is minimized, during which cops appear to seize the man for what one can assume to be either assault or murder.  This moves then into the next section of the film, where the previously young man returns to the monastery to take up residence, during which time he is visited by a veiled woman and her child, one can assume this to be his former lover, although it is never outright shown.  During a night of panic, the woman runs outside onto a frozen lake only to slip into an exposed portion and die from drowning, leaving the man to take care of the child, which, of course, leads to the final section of the film, which depicts the former student now serving as an aged monk to a younger generation.

The cycles of this film are clear, what is less clear is the tangible, spatial elements of the film.  One can easily argue that the film finds its grounding in a sort of chronological structure, which is partially true, however, given that the moments between each episode do not represent a flat out seasonal change, and appear to extend beyond simply a temporal space suggest something much grander at work, a notion only made all the more obtuse when one realizes that the actors playing the assumedly same parts change, therefore, adding a surreal and almost mythological element to the film.  I would even make a case that Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring is very much concerned with what occurs in the liminal spaces of not only the world of the narrative, but the relationship between viewers and the screen.  It is no accident that the doors always open up into the world essentially telling those who are watching to engage with the work, or to step into its realm, for to not do so would be to disregard the intimate, yet always changing world of this secluded monastery.  In fact, everything is always on the move, much like in his film The Isle, Ki-duk's world is placed on water, which can obviously be read as a variety of things, however, in the spiritual regard of this work, and the other previously mentioned Ki-duk works, it only seems to add to the lack of grounding as a suggestion that any plans or attempts to anchor down to a place are futile, and in the particular location likely to result in death.  These "weights" which metaphorically appear in the form of the young boy tying rocks to animals, extend to the narrative, whether it be sexual desire, the dream of escapism or perhaps even notions of spiritual answers themselves.  The climb up hill carrying the burden of a stone in the next to final act seems to best sum up the entire narrative, in that, climbing the hill is already problematic, but one must only carry the burdens that they have brought upon themselves, and nothing more, every individual is given a chance to chose their outcomes, even in the most seclusive of situations.

Key Scene:  The rocks on the animals metaphor is so on the nose, but considering how inherently violent it is, I felt it to be an audacious and well-executed portion of the film.

This is another cheap Korean film that stands out as well-worth owning.  Not only is it an exceptional Korean film, but it is also a great art house work on a global scale.

It's A Call For Help Intended As A Private Communique: Zodiac (2007)

In the past few years Mad Men has been given a ton of praise for, amongst other things, its incredible ability to capture the imagery, culture and general state of mind of the era it is depicting, both in the decaying stature of white, male privilege as well as the ever so faint heartbeat of the change that is moments from emerging in America.  David Fincher's criminally underrated Zodiac is certainly a film with a similar attachment to such a style, all be it set a decade later and over a much longer period of time, transition seamlessly and poetically, making even his clear moments of large periods of transition seem effortless and completely within the framework of the lengthy film.  As of late, I find myself bemoaning everything that is associated with Fincher's Fight Club, mostly for its following and fans who believe it to be the sole moment of revolutionary cinema.  I am certainly behind the quality of Fight Club as a film, but much like the blind supporters of the beatniks it has its rather obvious flaws, ones that seem to emerge with age.  Of course, this is not about what will, undoubtedly, prove to be the dynamic directors most well-remembered tim but is, instead; about what might tragically be his most overlooked.  Zodiac is a meticulously designed and deceptively straightforward film, that manages to take one of America's most baffling serial killer cases and turn it into a gripping human drama that is both narratively tight and cinematically profound.  This, of course, is of little surprise, after all, we are talking about a filmmaker who always proves consistent, even when doing something completely out of his comfort zone with The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.  Even his Netflix series House of Cards stands shoulders above most things being circulated in theaters at this very moment.  Much as it seems to be the case with so many of Fincher's films Zodiac demands that its viewers be both fully invested in their characters day to day activities, while also understanding that since they engage with an inherently terrible system that all persons are susceptible to failure, greed and ultimate a brutal downfall, and that doing the right thing is rarely reward, if not outright punished.

Zodiac, as should be little surprise, follows the emergence and tracking down of the infamous Zodiac Killer, who spent a considerable portion of the seventies randomly killing individuals in, and around, the San Francisco Bay Area.  Of course, as is the case with most crime thrillers the killer is only the secondary subject, Zodiac instead focuses on people attempting to solve the puzzle and rather literal enigma that is the killer who called himself Zodiac.  Firstly, there is the established, all be it, cynical  news reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) who sees this case as a means to blast his career to the next level, pulling no punches in his attempts to track down everything he can regarding the case.  Within the same news agency is Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal) whose life as a cartoonist takes a sharp turn when he decides to decode the letter from the Zodiac, an act that leads him to become irreversibly obsessed with the case, skipping work and eventually ignoring his live-in girlfriend and children with the hope of meeting and aiding in the arrest of the killer.  Finally there is the cop assigned to the various Zodiac related deaths, David Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) who realizes that the paperwork and legal expectations of his every action result in it being nearly impossible to ever arrest or come close to the killer, who made quite certain that his tracks were well-covered.  At various points throughout the narrative the three interact, although never simultaneously, in some cases Robert and Paul work together within the confines of their office, while in another situation Robert approaches David after a film screening at a local theater to explain his unusual relationship to the case and while David continues work on the case, it is eventually Robert who takes the reigns on finding the killer, in the process becoming uncertain as to whether it is justice or curiosity that keeps him going.  In the end, enough minor pieces of information assemble to allow Robert to make eye contact with the killer, in a brief but tense moment and the film then cuts to one of the Zodiac Killer's survivors identifying him in a photograph, allowing after nearly a quarter century for the killer to be brought to trial.

Zodiac is a film that is fully aware of its length, never rushing through a scene or overlooking an aspect to assure a comfortable runtime, which is something, unfortunately, that appears to have worked against it in its box office numbers.  I, however, found the film to be excellent and worth every moment invested, I would even go so far as to say that I was a bit upset when the credits did begin to role, because I thoroughly enjoyed its subject matter and execution.  I, however, say all this to consider what is going on within Fincher's relatively calculated and contemplative film.  The answer seems to be rather obvious, it is a film about tracking down a killer who is not only excellent at being elusive, but also seems keenly aware about the general misdirection and time spent organizing and justifying efforts within the police force, which allows for him to enact random murders and various misdirections, all while those chasing him are still getting the go ahead.  This woe of bureaucracy does, however, come with a certain degree of safety.  When David engages in situations with the individual who does prove to be the Zodiac killer he is afforded the comfort of back up and an advantage in the way of guns and safety, where as, when Robert begins his independent investigation he is forced to navigate spaces alone, although in the films most tense seen this loneliness rears its ugly head when Robert comes to encounter a person whose ties to the Zodiac make his every movement worth questioning to the point of paranoia.  So Zodiac seems to suggest that dealing with crime requires a navigation between the protections of bureaucracy, while also remembering that many rules are to be altered as necessary.  Of course, as the narrative also suggests, living in such a liminal world can prove detrimental, at least that appears to have been the case with Paul.  Another layer is of course the notion of time and authority, something that is always working against the characters best interests even in the brief moments of earnest happiness or positive encounters within the film.  Yet it also suggests that with time, all injustice will eventually be reprimanded.

Key Scene:  There are two time transitions in this film one of a tower being built and the other solely using music that are brilliantly jarring and help to yank the viewers back in after long narrative lulls.

This is cinema gold and was long out of print on bluray.  It has recently returned to shelves and is worth grabbing before it witnesses another tragic fate.

I'm Erect. Why Aren't You Erect? Showgirls (1995)

Do you remember that one episode of Saved By The Bell where Jessie begins abusing caffeine pills as a means to both take care of her school work, as well as attend practices so her and the other girls can perform for a talent show, only to eventually have a complete mental breakdown which leaders to her sing-crying the words to "I'm So Excited" in the befuddled arms of Zach?  Well, one could call Showgirls the extension of that moment from the show some seven to ten years later, even using the actress Elizabeth Berkeley in the lead role.  Showgirls is far from one of those films that has received a cult status because it clearly exudes some degree of cinematic ingenuity, or is a terrible production that covers up a sound narrative, in fact, for the most part, Showgirls is a decidedly unwatchable film in the traditional sense, excluding of course any moment involving the infallible Kyle McLachlan.  The film suffers from some chewed up scenery in the acting department, not to mention a misguided plot that is only fleshed out in a literal sense.  Even the glossy realism mixed with dystopian dreariness that signifies some of director Paul Verhoeven's other works, such as Basic Instinct and Robocop falls apart when the gross day world of Las Vegas enters the picture and consumes any sense of harmony or possible beauty.  Showgirls is at once a set of misguided social commentaries ranging from the objectification of women to the exploitative failures of art, as well as a film that clearly cannot take itself any more seriously, despite dealing with a subject so harsh and debated that any degree of trepidation with plot choices, would assure its failure, something clearly problematized within the film.  The fact that Showgirls because a home video success probably speaks volumes to a pre-internet age in which nudity on the scale within this film meant needing to get creative in one's access, but that, of course, says little for a cinematic appreciation, as much as it does for the ingenuity of a sexual oriented mind.  The absurdism of its existence seems to be the sole factor in the cult status of this sex fueled narrative.

Showgirls begins with the introduction of Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkeley) a down and out, attractive young woman who has decided to hitch hike to Las Vegas to take up dancing as a means to escape her troubled life.  It is within being offered a ride to Las Vegas that she first realizes the deception of the city when her belongings are stolen and she is left abandoned in a casino.  Fortunately for Nomi, a aspiring designer named Molly (Gina Ravera) agrees to take her in and help her get on her feet, even landing her a job as an erotic dancer in somewhat sleazy club.  Yet, Nomi realizes she is destined for something much larger than this when she watches a performance of a erotic dance review called Goddess, which is headed by a star performer named Cristal Connors (Gina Gershon).  At this moment, through deception and a considerable degree of hard work, Nomi begins to climb the ladder of  performance artist in the sin-laden city meeting a classically trained dancer turned bouncer named James (Glenn Plummer) as well as Cristal's lover, the lavish playboy Zack Carey (Kyle MacLachlan).  It is through these varied interactions that Nomi is introduced to the backdoor dealings of Las Vegas, particularly as they relate to advancing as a dancer, she even forms an intimate relationship with Zack, one that leads to a night of wild passion and a heavy degree of distrust from Cristal.  However, when this use of sex does not afford Nomi a chance to understudy for Cristal, the enraged dancer takes things into her own hands by pushing Cristal down the stairs causing her to get a fracture and thus become incapable of performing.  Nomi is then thrust into the spotlight, a place that she realizes is far from comforting, both in the realization of her awful actions by friends like Molly, as well as the jealousy that emerges from other dancers, and even Zack who in a fit of rage digs up information on Nomi's past life, revealing a history of drug addiction, prostitution and violence.  Nomi realizes that escape is, again, her only option and she begins hitchhiking out of Las Vegas, meeting the same man who stole her goods in the films opening scene, although this time she is fa more prepared.  Also she kills a man along the way, but that seems, surprisingly, secondary in the larger narrative.

I would be hard pressed to find a film, excluding the infamous Salo: or 120 Days of Sodom that better captures the sense of decadence and its presence within a modern society.  While the previously mentioned film is decidedly fictional, or at least a viewer strongly hopes that is the case, Showgirls despite its stylized sexuality and preponderance of violence, truly reflects a world that could be Las Vegas.  It depicts the city as a fictionalized dreamscape in its nightlife, one where aspirations can occur, only to cast a less than welcoming hue over everything when the morning light comes.  The characters within the film suffer from their own delusions and excesses whether it be James and his desires to be both a critically acclaimed choreographer and a master of erotic dance, or the dancers throughout who expect their children to be well-spoken and mild mannered but see little issue within bringing them into their foul-mouthed and nudity heavy dressing rooms.  It is easy to see how decadence formulates within Cristal and Zack who spend lavishly on libations and sexual gratification, only as a means to counter their clearly problematic relationship, in fact, the scene in which Zack and Nomi hook up at his house is  so decadent that a viewer will find it damn near incomprehensible, not to mention that Kyle MacLachlan relishes in throwing down some excellent over-the-top acting during the scene.  Yet it is Nomi who seems most apt to describe as decadent, because while viewers are led to believe that she is truly trying to escape her past, her actions often reflect and individual who is self-loathing and purely wants things for her possession, even if she intends not to take them seriously, this is certainly the case with her desire to become a Goddess dancer, something she obtains, but then completely overlooks its importance by gorging on junk food and partying her days away.  Nomi is a decadent and self-involved character who the narrative hopes you will find sympathy for, yet it is so clear that she possesses no desire to change, thus making her a decidedly unlikeable and problematic character.  Who knows maybe this is the major flaw of the film.

Key Scene:  Kyle MacLachlan, champagne, sex and swimming pool.  It is really more of the cultural humor within this scene than anything else.

I mean, I would suggest only watching this if you really have a curiosity about its place in cult history.  It is not endearing like other cult classics and does not have any hidden cinematic value.  I would pass on to something else if given an option.

It Has Nothing To Do With The Hall-u-cen-o-gens: Seven Psychopaths (2012)

The hyper-masculine world of the works of Martin McDonagh have been criticized for their terribly misguided use of gender as a means to appropriate hipness and violence, and while this criticism certainly holds a degree of validity, I would contest that artistically speaking, McDonagh's male-oriented films exist partially as a undermining of masculine dominance, as well as a reappropriation of gender divides, ones that cause the male figures to immediately accept the illogical nature of their existing within a wholly single gendered dichotomy, after all, McDonagh is coming out of a post-war Ireland that still seems uncertain on its own future, certainly as it relates to a male ideology.  Furthermore, the detractors of McDonagh's work seem quick to attack the unconventional playwright and filmmaker, without giving equal consideration to the work of Tarantino or Mamet who engage in similar practices with, often less guided motives.  It is rather clear that MacDonagh uses his hyper violence, hyper-masculinity and penchant for political incorrectness, as a means to create a conversation through the absurdity, essentially not much different than the way in which Stephen Colbert uses a falsely absurdist variation of conservatism to undermine the illogical nature of the outdated mode of thinking.  Sure it will be difficult for Seven Psychopaths to obtain the sort of cult following that MacDonagh's earlier work In Bruges received, but this is near entirely a result of the film being championed from the get go by fans of the playwright turned directors earlier work, not to mention the casting of a decidedly cult oriented cast with Waits, Walken and to some degree Harrelson.  What can be said in relation to the directors earlier work is that it takes a decidedly poetic turn in the closing moments of the film, something that In Bruges certainly does, however, in the metacinematic nature of this most recent film by McDonagh, the viewer is provided with very clear foreshadowing to such events, although no amount of preparation truly informs how badass a McDonagh shootout will prove to be, certainly not the multiple and multifaceted ones within Seven Psychopaths.

Seven Psychopaths, like a class McDonagh offering, begins in the hyper-violent and only excels from there with the introduction of a masked killer known as the One'Eyed Jack killer, who is apparently one of seven psychopaths who are to comprise the plot, the title of which is to be the inspiration for the films main protagonist the writer aptly named Marty (Colin Farrell) who is struggling formulating his script aside from knowing that it includes a vengeful Amish man and a suicidal ex-Vietcong.  In fact, his relatively absurd plot seems mundane compared to the unusual job of his friend Billy (Sam Rockwell) and his partner Hans (Christopher Walken) who specialize in dog kidnapping to obtain larger reward money.  Unfortunately, Hans and Billy make the mistake of kidnapping a dog named Bonnie who happens to belong to a high end mob boss named Charlie (Woody Harrelson) a man whose devotion to his puppy is so great that he undertakes a veritable killing spree to assure its safety.  All the while, Marty attempts to properly formulate his script, taking inspiration from the events surrounding the dog, as well as the newspaper articles about the One'Eyed Jack killer, not to mention meeting other psychopaths along the way, particularly the enigmatic Zachariah who, along with his former lover, took it upon themselves to be serial killers of serial killers.  Needless to say, no matter how well Billy, Hans, and eventually Marty, cover their tracks Charlie chases them down, although at this point it is a meeting well-embraced by the crew, especially Billy who believes the shootout to be the perfect ending to Marty's script one with a ton of gore and the quick destruction of Charlie.  Yet when the actual shootout occurs it pans out considerably differently, with a varying set of deaths and a damn perfect use of music.  Luckily for Marty, a message left on a voice recorder helps Marty to find a perfect idea for his films closing moments, although an intercut after the credits begin remind Marty of some of his failed obligations, which may or may not have some deathly results.

What then is the moral/social commentary/philosophical pondering of McDonagh's most recent offering.  It is certainly not a poignant reflection on the state of violence within a global community, because many of the characters fail to be reprimanded for their agressive choices, just as it is certainly in no way an evocation of gender equality, as the female characters within the film serve as narrative boosts for some of the more reserved characters, but with that in mind it also does not create a clear divide between those who are inherently good and those who have a chance to be good, but succumb to the bribery and falsity of wrongdoing, which seems so integral to In Bruges.  Instead, within Seven Psychopaths, McDonagh appears to draw a line between those who are the necessary observers and recorders of change and revolution and those to are direct harbingers in its occurrence.  As the narrative reveals, Billy is actually the One'Eyed Jack killer and sees violence as an absolutely legitimate way to deal with the wrong in the world.  Destruction, to Billy, is the only way to assure the cessation of evil.  As for Marty, he seems far more inspired by considering how this corruption or insanity evolves and emerges, often becoming so lost in its possibilities and misguiding that he clings to alcohol as a means of coping.  In the middle ground are the characters like Hans who seems to traipse perfectly between Billy and Marty's methodologies, thus creating a sort of aggressive passiveness (which I have decided is distinctly different from somebody being passive aggressive)  that can drive a guilty person to take their life out of fear and frustration, not to mention Zachariah who clearly cannot come to deals with his passivity in the face of his aggressive lovers violence, although his choice not to be aggressive when his lover was actively killing a man takes on an aggressive connotation, because he clearly has come to disapprove of those actions.  Thus the closing scene involving a self-imolationg Buddhist monk takes  on another level, in so much, as he is engaging actively in an act that is intended to be passive resistance against the war, even if completely self-destructive.  All of this, of course, results in some unusual religious and social commentaries, but I think it only proves the intense and introspective elements of this film without question.

Key Scene:  Waken, voice recorder, fire and considering of sexual-orientation terms...what more could one ask for in a film.

An action heavy film with quite a glorious soundtrack, Seven Psychopaths is a bluray purchases through and through.

All This Just So Daddy's Little Girl Can Score A Dime Bag: Casa De Mi Padre (2012)

When I see Will Ferrell's name attached to anything, I, like most people, assume at the very least that his performance will prove funny, even if the rest of the movie falters and never really manages to find its grounding, this was certainly the case with Old School and a ton of other comedies involving the well-established funny man.  However, I remember seeing passing trailers and hints at the absurdity that was to be an almost all Spanish language film in which Ferrell, a decidedly not Spanish actor would play the lead.  The absolute brilliance of such a film, both conceptually and risky could not be ignored, yet it seems as though the movie came and went with little or no noise whatsoever, probably due entirely to the fact that anybody who were to attend this film would be subjected to reading subtitles, a veritable death sentence to assuring sales, particularly in regards to American comedy.  Yet, Ferrell, as well as the remainder of his cast, many of which are well-established Spanish speaking actors, provide for a thoroughly hilarious film that is as post-modern as they come and almost appears to be in the vein of a Tarantino film, although in the case of this film, it does not have the underlying hipness and relies solely on absurdity...to some degree satirizing the overly aggressive stylized nature of both action films and old school spaghetti westerns.  The film, Casa de mi Padre, directed by long time Saturday Night Live writer Matt Piedmont, provides a complete undermining of what viewers have come to accept as visually consumable comedic film, while also reinforcing some of the traditional tropes and absurdities. Where I found Casa de mi Padre to be somewhat out of the ordinary was within its rather serious considerations of what it was satirizing and the methods by which it was doing so, specifically in its use of humor to consider the troubles of a transnational border trade and the manner with which language barriers affect its success, as well as how failures to communicate challenge its suppression.  Undoubtedly, much of this films assured production must have laid in the hands of one Will Ferrell and its passionate execution, should be, to some degree, credited to its main actor.

Casa de mi Padre focuses on the initially simpleton lifestyle of ranchero Armando Alvarez (Will Ferrell) who desires to make the best of his families land and longs to find companionship with a woman who shares his feelings.  While his father Miguel Ernesto (Pedro Armendariz Jr) seems to dismiss his every action and thought as stupid, due heavily to blaming Armando for his wife's death, Armando nonetheless takes life with strides and lives by his promise to keep his name honorable.  However, with the return of the family's prodigal son Raul (Diego Luna) and his fiance Sonia (Genesis Rodriguez) things in the world of Armando Alvarez quickly become altered, due to a combination of his own burgeoning feelings for the extremely attractive Sonia, as well as a realization that his brother is tied into the drug trade across The United States and is quickly becoming enemies with Onza (Gael Garcia Bernal).  To make matters much worse, Armando and his family become the point of attack by government officials who see them as central figures in the trafficking of drugs, this operation is led by a hyper-patriotic "American" speaking officer named Greg Parker (Nick Offerman).  While Armando pleads with his brother to extract himself from the life of drugs and violence it is not until a violent shootout on the day of Raul and Sonia's wedding which results in Miguel's death that any serious thought is taken on ending the tragic lifestyle, which of course means that they must take down Onza a task which results in a huge shootout and the death of Raul.  This death while, unfortunate, affords Armando the means to create a relationship with Sonia, one that allows him to exact revenge on his mother's attempted racist and take down corrupt American drug agents.  Also at some some point in time a Bengal Tiger plays into the plot, but that is just one of the many extra elements to a heavily packed non-traditional comedy.

So if this is a comedy can one really take anything it is saying about the American-Mexican drug trade with any level of seriousness, perhaps not, yet the level of detail placed on considering the rhetoric of those involved as well as the misunderstandings of the lesser persons involved in such a world cannot be overlooked.  Agent Greg Parker beautifully represents the trouble of illogically conservative individuals blaming Mexico for their drug problems, as opposed to considering the social breakdown in America leading to young children desiring to get high, it is a classic example of wrongfully placed blame, in this case by Americans onto Mexicans for their inability to end drug use.  Similalry, we are provided a dueling vision of The United States via brothers Armando and Raul, one seeing it as a glorious place of golden paved streets and endless dreams, while the other deems it a filthy place full of terrible persons that act like children, of course, neither is completely right or wrong in their claims, yet they both fail to consider how their own country has its share of problems, many of which are eerily similar.  This is where language seems to emerge as a point of criticism, the assumptions shared by both groups seem to be based on their inability to explain certain ideas or notions, outside of their cultural context and it is not until Armando shares a conversation with another agent at the end of the film that both sides realize that much of their disdain and contempt for the other side is grounded in stereotypes and lies promoted by higher forces.  There is also a considerable amount of the narrative focused on honor and sacrifice, and a suggestion that both values are necessary to assure safety and civility in one of the most tenuous yet seemingly crossable borders in the world.

Key Scene:  There is a moment where Will Ferrell literally shows his ass multiple times and it proves to be a laugh out loud moment during a generally funny film.

This is yet another reward from the Watch Instantly category as I attempt to wrap up some of the missed films of the year.  It is great and certainly worth checking out and I am ashamed it did not receive more hype upon release.

I Think We Both Have A Light In Our Stomachs: Goon (2012)

Another one of the films that technically borders on the line between being counted as a 2011 or 2012 release, this sports comedy falls in the later by a matter of seven days, and is yet another one of the films  that seems to be receiving a lot of hype as 2012 wraps up, particularly since this movie seems to have come and gone with little or no noise whatsoever.  I will admit that much of my ignoring of this film exists solely because it involved Sean-Williams Scott, who I had dismissed as one of the many members of the American Pie series.  However, my recent, somewhat favorable review, of the film had me reconsidering what value the typecast Scott might have, particularly in such a unique film.  Furthemore, the brief reviews and mentions I glanced at before watching this comedy, seemed to really emphasize how out of the norm Scott's performance proved to be, not to mention some rather excellent offerings from Liev Schreiber and Eugene Levy as well.  I could attempt to tell you that this is a film about hockey, and that it is a well-written, all be it incredibly raunchy comedy, however, I am quite concerned that explaining that will do little to cause you to want to see the film.  If we are being honest, few sports comedies manage to transcend their focused audience, and when they do it is because they really are not sports comedies at heart, take Talladega Nights for example.  Goon contests what narratives and images can occupy a sports comedy and manages to do so with a zeal and vigor so perfected that I often thought I was watching Major League.  Now I will admit, certain of the dismissive condemnation I may receive from some, that I have never seen Slap Shot, which could well affect my immediate liking of this work, however, should I get around to watching that I will keep Goon in mind whilst creating a review.  At the moment, Goon stands to be a considerably enjoyable movie, with just enough of a heart beat not to be middle of the road, hell if I were to ever create a top ten sports comedies list there is a pretty good chance that it could sneak onto the list.  Goon is no Caddyshack, but its hard hitting style should not be overlooked.

Goon centers primarily on the experiences of Doug Glatt (Sean-Williams Scott) a super-kind, if not a bit brain damaged, bar bouncer whose life seems headed nowhere fast, much to the condemnation and dissaproval of his adoptive Jewish parents Dr. Glatt (Eugene Levy) and his wife Mrs. Glatt (Ellen David).  If it were not for the endearing support and admiration of his foul mouthed friend Pat (Jay Baruchel) it would seem that Doug would have little of value to push him through his meaningless days, however, during a minor league hockey game, Doug attacks a player who comes into the audience hurling homophobic slurs, as he sees them as a direct insult to his gay brother.  This trouncing of a brutish hockey player causes him to catch the eye of a minor team that hires him to be their goon, eventually leading to his being moved up one division higher to protect a hyper-paranoid wunderkind named Xavier LaFlamme (Marc-Andre Grondin) who has been off his game since receiving a concussion from league bully Ross Rhea (Liev Schreiber).  At first, Doug's concern for friendliness and  simple-mindedness seem destined for failure, yet after a few moments of dumb luck and the eventual support of an intimate partnership with a newly found girlfriend named Eva (Alison Pill) things finally come together for Doug.  This journey still takes time, however, especially since Xavier is initially jealous of his loss of respect on the team, however, once he realizes that Doug only seeks to assure the larger teams success he and the team come around to Doug's place as a goon, as well as a hockey player.  Of course, the emergence of Doug as a new superstar is not complete until he faces of with Ross Rhea, which serves as the films climax, an intense fight, not of violence means, all though it is quite bloody, but one that passes the metaphorical torch from the old school bruiser to the young goon.  It is done out of respect, so much so that Ross demands that the referees stay out of the way.  Doug eventually lands a devastating blow to Ross, despite taking heavy damage himself and we are shown his team scoring the necessary goals to make it to the playoffs.

Sports movies often lack considerable critical depth beyond promoting an underdog story of sorts and this fact is extended exponentially when considering sports comedies, which possess heavy amounts of satire, yet Goon is so unusual in the ways with which it deals with Doug's evolution and growing up that it is a very backhanded bildungsroman of sorts, in so much as it is as much about the underdog proving himself, as it is about Doug creating his self-identity and learning to navigate the world around him.  In one of his conversations with Pat, a disparaged Doug admits to desiring to find the one thing that makes his life worth anything, which he accomplishes via being a bruiser for a semi-professional hockey team.  His identity is not solely formed by this experience alone though, much of his evolution occurs with his initially problematic relationship with Eva, who must break-up with her boyfriend to be with her new found love, of course the veritable nice guy, Doug overs his cheeks to Eva's ex who bludgeons him in frustration.  In this moment, Doug learns when to accept punishment, something he had been giving out up until this point.   Also, one could agree that travel is a very large part of formulating one's experiences and is quite often present in the traditional bildungsroman and it is certainly something that Doug engages in during the narrative, both moving between borders of national creation as well as spaces in which he is welcome and unwelcome, at times by his own accord, while at others as a result of external forces.  Combining these things together, one cannot ignore the evolution Doug goes through within this rather fast-paced film and what could seem like ninety minutes of punches and curse words actually is a well thought out study of a person's coming of age story, even if it is a bit late in the game.

Key Scene:  The final fight scene between Doug and Ross is legitimately on a cinematic level equal to that of Raging Bull.

Yet another offering via Netflix you should do yourself a favor at watch this soon, perhaps with some friends as a few cold Canadian beers.