You Kind Of Look Like Betty Crocker: The Stepford Wives (2004)

There are a handful of films that for some reason or another just end up with a bad wrap, I often argue that this is due to choosing and awful time to be released, or having an actor whose offscreen persona manages to be so distancing as to affect ticket sales or the reputation of the film, fortunately for this remake of The Stepford Wives it appears to be the aforementioned issue of timing, something that can be transcended as we look at the film nearly a decade later.  Having never seen the original, although I am quite interested based on the DVD cover alone, it is quite clear that the revamp of The Stepford Wives is not a perfect film, however, I do not believe that anyone was expecting it to be such a thing.  The satirical jabs set-up in the film are often to misdirected or on-the-nose to really become effective and the mixture of veteran actors and comedic performers causes a clear divide between film and viewer, making it hard to become wholly involved with Frank Oz's narrative.  Of course, as a out and out satire it is not fair to criticize these points too heavily, because within this particular cultural framework tradition and the rules of filmmaking are certainly allowed to be undermined, yet, while viewing the film one cannot help but feel that it is falling victim to over cutting of scenes and key plot points at the hands of producers.  It also cannot be ignored that this film was released in the wake of a post-9/11 hyper conservative American landscape that seemed to sop up anything spouted from the good ol'boy president in office.  Furthermore, The Stepford Wives does a rather intriguing thing with feminist theory that, to some degree, undermines some of the key figures and commentaries of second wave feminist rhetoric and could damn well be a third wave feminist masterpiece, in so much, as it confronts issues of intersectionality, in the very fact that the film ignores intersectional bodies, excluding two gay characters.  This movie is certainly above middle of the road quality and deserves reconsideration, if only for Christopher Walken probably being given the most appropriate role of his entire acting career.

The Stepford Wives begins with an awards ceremony for a major television network headed by Joanna Eberhart (Nicole Kidman) whose female-empowering television has become a means for her own iconic cultural place, yet when one of her shows causes a man to lose his wife, he exacts revenge by attempting to shoot her during the ceremony.  The insanity of this situation leads her to be released from the network, which also causes her husband Walter Kresby (Matthew Broderick) to step down from his position as vice-president and suggest they move to the suburbs.  Along with their two children the family moves to Stepford, the hyper-idyllic gated community in where the ideal image of woman is ripped right out of a 1950's home decor catalogue.  The gender divide is rather clearly established within Stepford, women are to be subservient to their husbands, while they shoot off to a large mansion to enjoy the masculine pleasures of life, most of which revolve around scotch and sports.  Realizing the absurdity of this lifestyle, Joanna befriends the Jewish anti-oppression writer Bobbie Markowitz (Bette Midler) and the outspoken gay male Roger (Roger Bart) who is attempting to meet at a middle ground with his gay republican partner by living in the suburbs.  The trio makes their own world within Stepford, all the while the community pretending not to notice, although their condemnation is rather obvious.  It is not until Roger disappears one night and becomes inexplicably altered into the ideal male political partner that Joanna becomes suspicious, a fear that is reaffirmed when Bobbie turns into a blonde housewife days later.  It is revealed that Mike (Christopher Walken) a former employee at Microsoft has discovered a technology that allows men to implant chips into their wives heads to make them submissive and able to reaffirm their place of power in a traditional hegemony.  Walter wrestles with whether or not to submit Joanna to this treatment, which leads to a climactic garden party in which all assumptions of submissiveness, power and whose hands are really in control of this idyllic community come into question.  Needless to say oppression is completely undermine and the power of the Stepford syndrome is eventually removed.

I mentioned that this film probably suffered from coming out at a terrible time.  The American landscape in 2004 certainly did not want to question anything, serious fears of another terrorist attack still gripped our nation and to question anything our government did in the name of our protection was tantamount to claiming to be a communist during the Cold War, as such the undermining of the ideal American image, no matter how illogical, was a death sentence during this time and, I would contest, that The Stepford Wives suffers from this mind frame.  Were it to have come out in the past five years, it would probably have been an entirely different story.  Another issue arises in that many people seem to dismiss this is a feminist friendly film, sure on a cinematic level it does not display anything but white , privileged bodies, however, I would contest that the ironic and undermining ways in which they do so is entirely intended to draw attention to issues of intersectionality.  Even the gay characters depicted are so overdramatized as to be a point of critique.  Furthermore, and spoilers ensue, another attack comes in that the main villain in this film is that of a woman seeking traditional values, many feminist thinkers would seemingly have a problem with this depiction, but it should not be ignored that many women do internalize traditional patriarchal values and heavily effect the ability of progress.  However, the character in this scenario specifically seems to be doing so because she was once a powerful woman who could not handle the stresses and strain of constant work and pressure.  It seems again on a passive glance to suggest latent femininity, however, it is wrong to read the film as such.  The women who desire the suburban housewife lifestyle of submissiveness are no less stressful and have very little to show for it, the classic cult of domesticity at work.  The woman who desires to have simplicity in making a family in the suburbs is blindly following the male patriarchal oppression because her stress has opened up a chance to internalize a false ideal.  Sure the film is a bit tenuous in how it depicts this idea, but I promise you it is in there somewhere.

Key Scene:  The introduction of Mike is a pretty funny scene and really sets up the illogical way in which Stepford presents itself for the remainder of the film.

This is an exceptionally cheap movie to purchase and while it is not great anyone who seriously enjoys discussing feminist theory or theories of oppression should own this movie as it provides for a great point of discussion.  This is also secretly a horror film, something people seem reticent to admit.

Top Ten Thursdays: Best Film Discoveries of 2012

Oh it has been a long time coming, I cannot recall the last time I actually compiled a top ten list and here I find myself attempting to throw one together in the last hours of the day.  I figured that since I did a similar list last year and plan to hold off for a few more weeks before discussing my favorite films of 2012, it would be an opportune time to discuss some of the works for years earlier that proved to be revelations to me and worth repeating.  As was the case last time, they must be things that I had not seen prior to this year and nothing that came out this year, although I cannot think of something that would break this list, although I have seen some stellar cinematic offerings.  Hopefully the key to this will be brevity, because I have at some point written blogs about all the films I have chosen and will post links to them with each.  Looking back makes me realize that I watch a whole heap of films last year, many of which were indeed quite good, although a good few of them were downright terrible, needless to say, it is not an easy list to compile and only drives me to see more great films as this year winds onward. Viva la cinema...or something like that.

10. An American Werewolf In London (1981)

Leave it to a rather raunchy and satirical horror comedy to break into the top ten, but I cannot get this movie out of my head, something is just too damn perfect about it, not to mention it having the greatest closing song in film history.

Review Here




9. The Straight Story (1999)

I will blame this on having just finished season one of Twin Peaks, yet The Straight Story was not the only first time with a Lynch film viewing this year, it just proved to be something far grander than I could have possibly imagined.

Review Here






8. Stardust Memories (1980)

I have found my definitive Allen film, although I look forward to digging through more of his back catalogue this year, I can only hope I turn on a few more people to the genius of his hidden gem.

Review Here






7. Harold and Maude (1971)

This viewing had been a long time coming and boy did it live up to the hype.  A deserved cult classic, Harold and Maude exudes magic and clearly serves as a stepping stone for Anderson and others, not to mention a single artist soundtrack on par with The Graduate.

Review Here





6. Pather Panchali (1995)

I broke down and bought a less than stellar bootleg of this film because it gets referenced and praised so damn often, despite being clearly ripped from a VHS recording, the cinematic zeal of Ray pops of the screen, here's to this finally being the year Criterion gets it out on bluray.

Review Here






5. Lonesome (1928)

Safety Last was so close to making the list, but I had to give way to the film that has allowed me to completely reconsider the art of silent film, even if this is "technically" an early talkie.  Not to mention I cannot get the words to "Always" out of my head.

Review Here








4. Close-Up (1990)

No film better captures the vision of my blog than this revelation by Kiarostami, I can only hope to obtain a copy for my personal collection sometime this year.

Review Here





3. The Poughkeepsie Tapes (2007)

I am convinced that I am chairing a single person committee to save this film from obscurity, but, seriously, just writing about this dark horror film gives me chills.

Review Here







2. Take Shelter (2011)

Easily my biggest oversight on my best films of 2011, this film beats out everything else that came out in 2011 and could stand to become one of my favorite films of all time.


Review Here





1. Secret Sunshine (2007)

This is the year that I found my focus and plan for academic study, all centering on South Korean cinema, fortunately, Secret Sunshine and a transcendent performance by Jeon Do-yeon came along to not only reaffirm my decision, but my faith in film as a whole.  If it were not for Do The Right Thing and Cool Hand Luke, this would easily be my favorite film ever released.

Review Here




Honorable Mention

Safety Last (1923)
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
Zazie Dans Le Metro (1960)
Woman In The Dunes (1964)
Earth Girls Are Easy (1988)
Away We Go (2009)

Documents Never Lie: Memories Of Murder (2003)

For somebody who has become a self-proclaimed academic on South Korean cinema, it has been quite awhile since I have reviewed or even watched anything from the country, which led me to dive into Memories of Murder, an early offering from one of my favorite South Korean directors Bong Joon-ho, probably best known for his massively realized monster movie The Host, if not for his spastic and cinematic Mother.  The later, as well as Memories of Murder, focus heavily on violent crimes and catching the culprits, however, where Bong avoids reality and grounding in his later work he seems completely at ease with depicting an uncomfortable amount of realness in his early work.  Memories of Murder is wickedly funny, while never failing to remind viewers that rape and murder are real acts, often, if not always, leading to the untimely death of those attacked, in this case every one being woman.  Bong is such a stellar director that even when noting that the film is based on true events, he manages to create such a gripping and melodramatic narrative that it is hard not to get lost in the spectacle and execution of the film, its elaborate nature and seemingly layered element of deception cause viewers to justifiably assume the work to be entirely fiction.  However, one may feel about the events depicted in the film, or whether Bong was even justified in portraying such freshly given wounds on screen, one cannot deny the means with which he uses this narrative to paint a picture of divides in Korea that still haunt the continually progressing nation.  Set, for the most part, in 1986, the film represents a rural area of South Korea, clearly affected by colonization, but not via a physical presence.  Bong, in Memories of Murder, creates a film that contests notions of identity and assumed privilege, particularly as it relates to notions of masculinity, age and education.  So very realized is this film, that one often has trouble situating its time period, as it is clearly not intended to visually represent contemporary Korea, yet the visual realm is not archaic either, instead existing in some area of transcendent cinematic space where metaphor and meaning are undoubtedly universal.


Memories of Murder begins, as should be no surprise, with the discovery of yet another raped and murdered body, in what has become a string of violent attacks in a rural South Korean community.  The main figure in the investigation proves to be Detective Park (Kang-ho Song) a traditionalist as far as detective work goes, although he is not adverse to twisting the words of suspects to assure the moving along of his investigations.  Park's partner Detective Cho (Roe-ha Kim) on the other hand seems to resort to violence at the flip of a hat, assuming that he can beat a confession out of any person he assumes to be guilty.  There wily tactics yield little results, mostly because they lack proper higher police education, which leads to the calling in of a Seoul based detective named Detective Seo (Sang-Kyung Kim) whose main objective appears to be linking the crimes into a series of murders enacted by a single serial killer.  Seo and Park constantly but heads, mostly as a result of Park's pride and desire to retain an alpha dog status, something Seo's intelligence seems quick to threaten.  However, as the clues begin the collect and the dueling detectives realize that one another possess some undeniable investigation skills, they slowly piece together a list of legitimate suspects and even chase down a variety of other criminals in the process.  Yet when they come to a standstill as a result of waiting for the FBI, who possess far better technology, to analyze some DNA, another murder occurs, driving Park specifically to chase the assumed culprit down himself.  Park, Seo and the assumed criminal meeting an an intense semi-shootout at a train tunnel entrance, only to be forced to let the suspect go when it is shown that they only possess inconclusive evidence.  The narrative then moves to the present as Park revisits a crime scene, only to be told by a passing girl that another man had been there only moments earlier, perhaps the killer whose whereabouts remain unknown even today.

It is hard to make any definitive statement about Memories of Murder in regards to critical theory, as so much of Bong's intent is clearly a result of his personal conviction in calling attention to the fact that this  killer has yet to face justice.  The clear choice of the camera to linger on the beaten and bruised bodies of the victims is an all to visceral call to demand that justice be sought with little rest during the process. Of course, to overanalyze this element of the film would be counterproductive, because the very act of Bong making the film proves this argument valid.  Instead, it is far more interesting to consider the way masculinity serves as a point of contention in the film, especially between Park and Seo whose desire to catch the killer seems more to do with selfish pride than with proctoring justice, especially for Park who has his communal identity to maintain. It is then no coincidence that all the victims in the film are women, one's who cannot defend against an intensely aggressive masculine antagonist, ultimately, causing Park and others to serve as saviors to a weaker sex, a problematic underlying issue of internalized oppression invariably emerges.  It is also interesting to consider the suspects when reading it through a masculinity critique, as it is clear all of Park and Seo's suspects appear to engage in varying degrees of gender betrayal/transgression, whether it be one culprit who dons women's underwear for sexual gratification, or another suspect whose telling feature is his unusually soft hands, something which is the result of his job in clerical work.  The final confrontation of the train emerging from the tunnel as a means of losing their assumed victim then takes a clear phallic meaning as it explodes out of the entrance severing any possibility of apprehending the suspect.  Masculine oppression is at the root of crime in this film, however, it is also the barrier that results in a killer never being found, in fact, the only persons who seem to be able to clearly identify the perpetrator are females, unfortunately, their voice in the narrative is relegated or ignored even in the closing moments, a masterful and biting commentary by Bong no doubt.

Key Scene:  There is a confrontation between Seo and Park in a karaoke bar in which they are both peeling bananas.  The biting nature and satirical composition of this moment hand me bursting at the seams with laughter.

This is certainly one of the premier films in South Korean cinema's history and it is somewhat pricey on Amazon, yet purchasing a copy is well worth the money, it is seriously a spectacular film.

I Think The World Is Just Too Loud: Julien Donkey-Boy (1999)

It is a fact, every time I think I have made some huge stride in understanding my place on earth and the meaning of my existence, I end up watching a Harmony Korine movie and everything I took for granted or valued becomes completely arbitrary and irrelevant in the face of artistic expression at its finest.  Some time ago a gave heavy praise to Korine's most recent experimental work Trash Humpers, although I flailed at the task of conceptualizing its brilliance and cinematic importance with words, because to be honest it is about the most indescribable thing on Earth.  Korine's earlier work Julien Donkey-Boy follows more in lines with this seminal film Gummo, while also adhering, for the most part, to the insanely strict rules of Dogme 95, a film style influenced heavily by minimalism and cinematic distancing.  By no means narratively linear, Julien Donkey-Boy focuses on the world of a schizophrenic boy and in doing so manages to provide viewers with a narrative and visual composition indicative of an individual suffering from such experiences, of course this is the manner and method familiar to the controversial young artist, yet it manages to serve for the inner convictions of the title character.  Unlike many of Korine's other works both in and out of the film medium, Julien Donkey-Boy seems quite reverent to notions of religion and exudes a particular celebration of those with severe physical and mental disabilities.  Taking digital camera work and then transferring it to 8mm only to blow it up to a larger frame size, the grainy quality of every shot in the film creates a serenity and surreal composition that allows for a viewer to freeze at any point in the film and become witness to a piece of still artwork and effort I have only seen happen one other time in Terence Malick's The Thin Red Line, which, by no coincidence, is one of Korine's favorite films.  Finally, if there is any one doubting the validity of this surprisingly humane offering, it goes without saying that the inclusion of Werner Herzog in the cast should all but secure its brilliance...seriously his scenes are magnificently absurd, and at times poetically perfected.

Julien Donkey-Boy follows the forays through a few days in the life of Julien ( Ewen Bremmer) a highly schizophrenic young man who works as a aid to blind youth in his community.  Despite clearly taking great pride in his work he is often the victim of severe verbal attacks and points of degradation by his irate German-American father, played masterfully by Werner Herzog.  Simultaneously, viewers are provided with the desultory acts and engagements of a pregnant young girl named Pearl (Chloe Sevigny) who is assumedly the sister of Julien.  Both Julien and Pearl, with no particular purpose engage with various groups in their community, whether it be an overly optimistic drummer with no arms, or a exceptionally garrulous employee at a thrift store.  Throughout their experiences is the intercutting of a hyper-expanded image of a young girl ice skater spinning to "O Mio Babbino Caro," perhaps one of the most used opera pieces in cinema, here of course with a bit of diagetic irony, as to adhere to the rules of Dogme 95.  It is revealed that at some point prior to the narrative Julien's mother has died, affirmed when his father attempts to pay him money to dance with him wearing his deceased wife's dress.  Perhaps the most centered moment of the film occurs when Julien believes he is talking with his mother on the phone, even though viewers are quite aware that it is Pearl on the other end.  The remainder of the film is a series of fleeting moments, ones involving games of bowling, stretching for wrestling and a surprisingly intense scene at a predominantly African-American church.  Yet when Pearl suffers from a slip on the ice while skating, her miscarriage completely regrounds the films closing moments into something very real, very tragic and a jarring reminder that the world of a person with mental issues is not to be taken frivolously.

This earnest study of a person with a severe mental disorder is not to be undervalued, certainly not in the hands of Harmony Korine, whose films often involve characters with real life disorders, as is the case of little persons in Gummo, or a fictional study of person's with dissociative identity disorder.  Hell anybody who has seen an interview with Korine will often find themselves wondering if he does not suffer from some issues himself, particularly his inspired monologue on playground in the documentary Beautiful Losers.  Yet, Julien Donkey-Boy is starkly different from the other films in Korine's oeuvre, in some much as it seems to earnestly attempt to recreate the life and issues of suffering from schizophrenia, whether it be dealing with an overbearing and frustrated parent, or facing ridicule from a community that does not obtain the understanding or care to learn to cope with a person with mental challenges.  Furthermore, in a manner that is as uniquely meta, as it is "Korinesque" he causes viewers to also take note of what a schizophrenic person might experience via visual and aural editing that is often repetitive and always jarring, especially during the scene following the church visit, as well as the drawn out scene involving a smoking performance artist, which has moved quite high into my list of the most disturbing things I have ever seen in film.  Ultimately, Korine takes measures to make a surreal work that is visually alluring, however, it is always his intent to provoke and often disturb and Julien Donkey-Boy is absolutely no exception, although, it is hard to condemn Julien for his actions in the closing scenes, unlike those on the bus with him, we know well of his past experiences which explain his seemingly grotesque actions and to be fair, would another individual not act similarly given the same set of obstacles?

Key Scene:  The church scene would be common place in many other films, but in the hands of Korine, especially given his reputation, it is transcendent cinema at its fullest.

You should own a copy of this movie, it is cooler and far more important than ninety percent of the films you already own.  I promise you of that fact.

All Noise And No Action: Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (2011)

A deceptively simple film, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia displays what is possible in the burgeoning Turkish film culture in near epic proportions.  While the film was initially released in Turkey in 2011, it has come state side within the last year, causing it to receive serious hype and Oscar buzz and deservedly so since it proves to be a stroke of brilliance by director Nuri Bilge Ceylan who would receive a co-award for the Grand Prix prize at Cannes.  The film is hefty and heavy both in its length and its commentaries, manages to exist in the matter of less than twenty-four hours, while also maintaining relatively minimal setting changes.  Viewers are likely to initially become involved with the cinematography of the work, perhaps looking over the rapid dialogue, much of which is lost on the ears and eyes of non-Turkish speakers.  Once Upon A Time in Anatolia reflects one of those rare treasures of a film where you can clearly see every decision and moment carefully working under the hands of the director.  At no point is a pause, a lingering shot or quick glance by an actor accidental, in fact, I would gladly compare this film to Kiarostami's Close-Up, although Ceylan's film is far less concerned with the metaphysical nature of filmmaking.  Furthermore, the film makes no apologies about its cultural references and actions being non-Western, although the entire film has a certain element of familiarity about it, after all it is from Turkey, a global location nearly perfectly divided between the Western and Eastern world.  Also, any cinephile will be quick to realize that the phrase "once upon a time" gets thrown around quite frequently when discussing film titles, whether it be large areas and concepts like the West, or moments in a nation's identity as is the case with a certain Scorsese film.  Yet, what makes Once Upon A Time in Anatolia distinct with its title choice, is that it is indeed about time in a very specific sense, and not a broader period, making its fairy tale reflection all too appropriate, as well as terribly ironic, considering that nothing about the world Ceylan depicts could ever be considered idyllic.

Once Upon A Time in Anatolia, again is deceptive in its seeming plainness, particularly concerning a plot almost entirely focused on searching for a buried body.  This task of uncovering a secret takes up nearly two hours of the plot, only to become shoved to the side when those involved return to their precinct to piece together the murder.  Like early Kevin Smith films, or a Wilt Stillman film, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia is about the conversations and the reflections shared between people, whether it be waxing poetic about buffalo yogurt and lamp chops, or truly contesting the nature of human existence.  Characters include the no-nonsense prosecutor Nusret (Taner Birsel) whose job is to find this body, even if it means driving his team to passing out, yet even his bullheaded ways can lead to moments of serene humor, as is clear when they finally discover the dead body and he fancies its features to that of Clark Gable.  Similarly there is the doctor Cemal (Muhammet Uzuner), a somewhat reserved man who seems to consider all occurrences relative to their factual explanation, yet even when he receives some distinct factual discovers, the irrationality of the acts which led to their happening cause him to consider every sort of grounded notion he previously held, leading to a rather heart-wrenching moment in which he stares out a window and considers the fate of children, a group in which the narrative seems particularly concerned for, in that adults terrible decisions invariably affect their future.  Finally, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia is distinctly about the fleeting moments of poetics that go unnoticed, whether it be as simple as an apple floating down a creek or a man falling in love with a young woman lit only by candlelight.  A film chiefly concerned with time, Ceylan manages to layer the various forms of time into a lengthy, yet absolutely watchable meditation on cycles, transcendence and expectations in regards to various temporal existences.

I mention time as being something of notoriety within a film that boldly uses time within its title.  I recall taking a humanities course during my undergraduate studies, in which an art theory professor contested that Edvard Munch's The Scream possesses well over twenty different types of studies on time within its seemingly simple execution.  I remember thinking, at the time, that it was the most pretentious thing I had ever heard, however, as I learned more about theory and the manner with which time affects ones existence both philosophically and physically I began to understand his argument.  I would, as such, argue that Once Upon A Time in Anatolia considers various forms of time, although nowhere near as many as the classic painting.  For example, the film on an obvious level considers the battle against time, in that the crew must find a buried body in which they fight against the physical affects of erosion on the body over time.  However, the conversations in the film suggest a serious concern with existential time, as well as lingering on the past, both variants of time that the human existence has very little control over, unless of course we manage to build time machines at some point. Perhaps the most poignant and emotive consideration of time in this film comes when the older men attempt to rationalize the world of children something they see as being destroyed constantly by their terrible decision, yet at no point do they seem intent on changing their ways.  Instead, it takes physical confrontations by children for them to reflect on the tragedy of their wrongdoings, at moments coming via attacks by rocks, while at other instances as a pseudo-play being acted out through a window sill in the police precinct.  Time in this film, as always, is profusely relative, however, it seems to suggest that on rare occasions it can coalesce with cinematic and poetic magnitude.

Key Scene:  The apple rolling down the hill scene has certainly occurred before in cinema, yet it is so well placed in this film that it is hard not to revel in its beauty.

Another offering via Netflix that should not be overlooked, because considering its "foreign" nature it could disappear without explanation.

It's A Harvest Cake: Drag Me To Hell (2009)

It is really hard to say how I come to get certain films in my Netflix queue, however, I am sure when I push them into the top ten I have likely read an article about them or have had them highly recommended by a friend or fellow blogger, at least that was the case with Sam Raimi's 2009 film Drag Me To Hell, which I was up until now completely unaware existed.  Yet, while wasting hours away reading articles on Cracked.com, I discovered one about crazy hidden messages within films and they made particular note of this film.  Knowing that I could not keep my curiosity at bay I had to see if it was truly the huge metaphor on eating disorders that everyone seemed set on commenting.  While this is clearly a means of study within the narrative, to relegate the movie to nothing more than that is quite unfair, because what Raimi offers in this special effects laden and visually striking horror film is an absolutely perfected bit of genre work, perhaps his best since Evil Dead 2.  Unlike many horror films that pace their jumps over spaces and gaps, Drag Me To Hell often layers jump scares throwing multiple ones within a matter of a few seconds, to the point that by a few minutes in I found myself on the edge of the sofa pacing my breaths as to not become to shocked by any unexpected scare.  Of course, since this is a Raimi film one can expect a considerable degree of schlock to emerge, however, knowing this going in it becomes bearable and quite acceptable, lending way to quite a few moments of  noticeably stellar cinematography and editing, all causing viewers to deeply question what value and validity they place on the reality portrayed.  Furthermore, Raimi is a clever director and throughout Drag me To Hell viewers of his cult series The Evil Dead will pick up multiple references to his well-known works, whether they be extended trips to tool sheds, cabin vacation plans, or a particularly familiar car.  Combined together, Drag Me To Hell becomes an exceptional bit of genre filmmaking, one that deserves more consideration and may well inspire me to revisit some of my favorite works from 2009 to see where I would place this on the list.

Drag Me To Hell begins in with a Mexican family bringing their young boy to a seance woman with the hopes that she can cure him of a curse he has received after stealing a necklace from a gypsy, yet failing to do so the boy's body is literally pulled through the ground by demonic hands, to what viewers can assume to be hell.  This then cuts to our main character Christine Brown (Alison Lohman) as up and coming bank lender who is vying for the position of assistant manager at her job, although her chances are growing worse with the competition of Stu (Reggie Lee) a shark of a loaner who is far better at making tough decisions with his clients.  Realizing she must step her game up to assure the position she takes a hard stance on her next appointment, the elderly gypsy woman Mrs. Ganush (Lorna Raver) who has been late on her payments twice already, and even when the woman begs on her hands and knees Christine refuses as a means to make a statement.  This leads to the woman attacking her and yelling assumed gibberish before being hauled out by security.  Stunned but firm in her decision, Christine heads home from work only to be attacked by the woman in the parking lot, in a fight that seems to witness Mrs. Ganush pulling super human feats of strength and after knocking out Christine she grabs her button and places a curse on it, one that becomes a point of paranoia and fear for Christine, much to the demise of her loving boyfriend Clay (Justin Long) who is initially skeptical, particularly when she seeks help from a spiritual advisor.  Eventually though, no amount of denial or hope that she will sleep off nightmares allows for Christine to get better and after vomitting blood at work, she takes it upon herself to find a way to end the curse, which leads to some dark travels through black magic and satanic rituals.  Eventually following the demands to free herself from the curse, Christine obtains the promotion and is gearing up for a stress-free life with Clay, yet a last minute confession of her own greed and lack of concern for humanity quickly changes events and the film's closing takes a turn for the darker.

Much is made of the eating disorder commentary throughout the film and, believe me, it is certainly present.  Between the oral fixation and various amount of things leaving and entering mouths throughout the film it is clear the the psychological decaying is certainly related to consumption or the lac there of, which is reemphasized by Christine's not eating throughout most of the narrative, except for two moments in which she eats ice cream, something that she knows will upset her lactose-intolerant stomach.  This is of course tied to a horrible body image, something that is depicted in her moment looking at her life on a farm which is juxtaposed with a pig, as well as her abrasive interaction with Mrs. Ganush's granddaughter.  To simply pinpoint the film as concerning eating disorders seems to overlook the large commentary on the physical and psychological affects of stress, whether they be shown through the decaying sanity of Christine or the crippled body of Mrs. Ganush they clearly suffer.  Raimi seems quite content to blame many of these issues on financial failures, making particular note of Christine's failure to do the humane thing in response to assuring she receives a promotion, made all the more problematic by the fact that she is not seemingly hurting for money, especially since Clay seems to be doing well as a psychology professor.  The notion of being drug to hell takes on in this reading a very physical sense, the closing scenes are intended to suggest her punishment for doing the incorrect deed, however, it could also become an interesting commentary on her misguided efforts to deal with a problematic body image, which result not in her success, but instead in her eventual suicide.  Perhaps the button does not represent the curse, but a memory of her negative body image so internalized and damaging that it leads her to kill herself.  Of course this is all just conjecture, after all it is a Sam Raimi film, which means it could all just be moments of intense shlock violence with no sort of logical connection, but it is just too damn good for that to be the case.

Key Scene:  The first moment in which the fly factors in heavily is so slow paced and simple that it seems a bit out of place compared to the rest of the film's moments of suspense, yet it also possesses one of the cooler film tricks I have seen in quite some time, nearly breaking the fourth wall, or the dream world of the narrative as well.

This is a hidden gem and is super cheap on bluray, I added a copy to my wishlist to get in the next month and you should make similar plans.  Help me make this a more well respected film by passing it along to friends.

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.