You Think Wrestling Is A Show? Life Is A Show: The Foul King (2000)

I seriously dread ever having to make a top ten thursday that focuses specifically on Korean films, although it has been quite awhile since I have even composed a list of such a manner so perhaps my fear is even more centered in the concern that I will never actually be satisfied with any list upon viewing other items that fall into its categories, even with the most absurd of categories.  Regardless, I am getting back into the pace of things with Korean cinema, as I know my planned Western month and impending Bond project will invariably block time from movies that I really want to see, as opposed to ones I should be watching, or am watching happily in the name of research.  As such, I wanted to dig into the corners of Korean Cinema and find some items that I had desperately wanted to view since first being informed of their existence and while Peppermint Candy seems to be the largest gap in my Korean film viewing to date, The Foul King was another that I longed to see upon hearing about its absolutely zany plot and action oriented narrative.  My trip through the Korean filmic landscape over the past year and some change at this point has afforded me a ton of different viewing experiences, some of which, for obvious reasons, exist decidedly within the horror genre, while others of equal enjoyment found themselves entrenched within the romantic comedy realm.  However, The Foul King seems to be in a world of Korean filmmaking all its own, drawing heavy influence from the works of Seijun Suzuki, while much to my surprise using some of the filmic stylings that one can only hope helped guide Aronofsky in his methodology as it pertains to my personal favorite of his The Wrestler.  Of course, considering that it is a relatively recent Korean film, The Foul King is anything but straightforward in its narrative.  Sure it is a linear film in many aspects, but it finds itself so informed by the impossible and the cinematically evasive as to be a constantly evolving narrative whose fixations on the crumblings of masculinity and the desire for destruction as a means of escapism.  The Foul King is a film that may well have suffered from a loss on the cutting room floor, but what viewers are given in the way of social commentary is good, if not absolutely perfect.

The Foul King focuses primarily on Dae-ho (Kang-ho Song) a out-of-his-luck bank clerk, whose diminutive relationship with his boss becomes a point of contempt and disdain for all that is wrong in his life, both financially and emotionally.  When his boss oversteps his boundaries and places the young worker in a headlock, Dae-ho takes it upon himself to seek out an alternative method to fight back against the authoritative boss.  When he is turned down by a friend who does tae-kwon-do, Dae-ho finds an add for professional wrestling and realizes that such and endeavor will provide him the skills necessary to fight off his boss.  However, the trainer and head of the gym refuses to aid Dae-ho, particularly after he expresses an interest in the classic wrestler known as The Foul King who would rely on elaborate cheating method to assure victory.  Yet Dae-ho is incredibly persistent and when the gym head is forced by mafia leaders to heighten the action of his matches he agrees to take on the aspiring wrester.  During his training Dae-ho comes to realize how truly exhausting and challenging wrestling can be, even when it is fake, learning to choreograph elaborate fights, along with the methods necessary to "cheat" without getting caught.  After some bumpy roads Dae-ho finds a bit of success in the ring and eventually builds up enough of a reputation to be scheduled to fight against renowned fighter Yubiho (Su-ro Kim).  Meanwhile, Dae-ho is still finding trouble with attaining respect at work, as well as at home where his father criticizes him for being a failure, as such, Dae-ho pours everything into this fight, even though he is expected to throw the fight in the name of entertainment.  After a long drawn out fight with Yubiho, one that delves into a real brawl, Yubiho does indeed defeat Dae-ho, but not before the young wrestler has earned a new degree of self-respect and willingness to strive for more than mediocrity in his daily life, even if he still finds it hard to be fully successful in every single endeavor.

The Foul King is such a straight forward "turning a new leaf" narrative.  Dea-ho is a simple character with simple desires and the film does not at any point attempt to layer a ton of metaphor onto this quest. However, that is not to say that The Foul King is not something short o brilliant.  In fact, I was completely enamored with the film from its excellent and highly artistic opening moments and found Dae-ho to be an absolutely intriguing character.  What the film does is takes something such as the concerns, particularly in a masculine context, for workplace advancement and parallels them nicely with the issues of competition and phallic power in professional wrestling.  Dae-ho would be quite content to simply move through his unproductive life, however, when he is attacked inexplicably by his boss in the bathroom it becomes a question of his own power and authority as a male and he seeks a physical venue to challenge to oppressive force.  The latent homoeroticism of things like wrestling and contact sports, allow for the attack by Dae-ho's boss to take on a new form, and other suggestions of homosexuality as being present in an unwarranted context play into this narrative nicely.  In fact, I found myself laughing each time a wrestler was shown training at the gym, inevitably they would be show working with a punching bag that was blatantly intended to be phallic, it would be near impossible to call it anything else.  Of course, the film does not suggest that homosexuality is bad by any means, it only notes that the issue of sexual advances and exploitations based on economic means is problematic and to work against this would be the ideal.  It is also a narrative that draws a clear line between being a person with low work ethic and a person who blatantly cheats.  While neither are ideals in any sense, it is clear that Dae-ho's cheating in the ring is for show, where as Yubiho's use of steroids and violent temperament are more detrimental to the safety of his opponents and the sanctity of the sport, a fine parallel with his boss whose constant attacks are borderline assault, as opposed to well meaning reprimands for the young banker's immature behavior.

Key Scene:  It is a rare feat to have the opening shots of a movie suck me in immediately, but this is the case with The Foul King.

This film is, unfortunately, hard to come by on DVD, but is available on Netflix.  However, there appears to be about one copy in circulation so it might be awhile before you get your hands on a copy.

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.

Have I Changed, Or Has The City Changed?: Memories Of Underdevelopment (1968)

With the viewing of this film earlier this week I can now say definitively that at some point in my life I have seen every film on the TIFF essential 100 list.  This might seem a little silly for those who do not regularly read my blog posts, but this has been an endeavor that was well over two years in the making.  Many of the films on the list were quite easy to come by, but since it is an incredibly diverse and decidedly globalized list some of the works were just near impossible to find, particularly Memories of Underdevelopment, which as you may know is a Cuban film about revolution set in the heart of the sixties.  Fortunately, my attending a rather big name school for graduate studies has afforded me the chance to watch a copy, all be it, on a VHS player, but it is by no means the worst venue for some of the films I had to dig up, I think specifically of Wavelength and Pather Panchali when reflecting on this quest.  It is quite appropriate that I ended with something like Memories of Underdevelopment, because it stands apart from so many on the list (all quite excellent films in their own rights) as something uniquely its own.  A hardened cinephile will quickly recognize the various cinematic traditions exploding on the screen, whether it be flares of cinema verite, or a heavy use of Fellini's humorous absurdism, in fact, one can even pick out a healthy dose of American rock'n'roll influence, despite being a film made in Cuba during the height of its revolution.  What makes Memories of Underdevelopment such a powerful film, however, is that despite its clearly personal commentary on the state of Cuba politically and its inevitable extension to those occupying the spaces of the multiracial, multi-classed island, the film somehow manages to exude a certain degree of awareness about the larger questions of humanity, personal struggle and the ever present concern of aging and existential angst.  Filmmaker, Tomás Gutiérrez Alea blows the lid off of cinematic conventions, by layering cinematic tricks, with masterful metaphors never allowing the narratives decidedly non-linear structure to ever provide any degree of comfort or intimacy to the viewer, yet the message is so personal and impassioned that it is hard not to be fully gripped from the violent opening of the film to its introspective closing moments.

Memories of Underdevelopment has a few narratives interwoven within the particular experiences of Sergio (Sergio Corrieri) a well-to-do Cuban whose travels and living in Paris have clouded his judgement of Cuba both as a country and as global political identity.  Sergio purposefully uses the term underdeveloped to refer the the nature of Cuba as it moves towards the seventies, suggesting it to be indicative of its relationship with countries like the United States, as well as a reflection of the larger social landscape.  Of course, Sergio is quite well off, therefore, he is able to more easily move about Cuban streets and, subsequently, engage with people of various classes.  Yet, as a single bachelor, Sergio spends a considerable portion of his time attempting to hook up and manages to find success with an young girl named Elena (Daisy Granados) whose doe-eyed demeanor is both built up as a point of attraction for Sergio, as well as a sign of weakness which he is happy to exploit.  Of course, his involvement with Elena is far more fleeting and desires nothing more than casual sex, yet, when it is revealed that Elena is indeed a virgin, and expects Sergio to now wed her after their intimate encounter, Sergio moves into a panic, attempting to avoid any degree of commitment.  It is, however, revealed that Elena, aside from still being a teenage, is also suffering from a high degree of mental illness, or at the very least a severe case of depression.  These changes result in Elena's family stepping in to seek reprimands for Sergio's behavior, although the wealth and well-being of Sergio allow for him to escape without as much as a scratch, able to float about Cuba with his condescending gaze fixated on all those lesser than him.  The film shows this rather simple narrative while continually intercutting between popular film and political footage, with a rather obvious yet incredibly poignant message along the way.

The notions of class and privilege cannot be ignored within Memories of Underdevelopment, and certainly should not, considering the political climate in Cuba at the time of the film's release.  Firstly, Sergio is intended to be a loathsome character, his Westernized, views of the world allow him to look at his country with some degree of disgust, suggesting that the people are to some degree underprivileged and, therefore, decidedly less than he is, especially since he has seen the "better," and considerably whiter parts of the world.  It is no irony that the people he seems to condemn the most are of considerably darker complexion than himself and as a result less connected with the Western ideal.  This frame of reference helps explain how he goes about seducing and taking advantage of Elena, who is noticeably darker than himself, her suffering from a mental disorder, only helps to convince of his ability as the closest thing to a "white oppressor" to take advantage of the mentally troubled and, as a result, savage Cuban woman.  It is a narrative that steeps itself within the realm of colonial criticism, which is no small irony, given that Cuba would be dealing with a colonial gaze via America, whose concerns for their production of weapons would lead to high levels of hostility, leading to surveillance and infamous photographs at the Bay of Pigs, completely unbeknownst to the people of Cuba.  Much in the same way, Sergio lives in a high rise condo and uses the lens of an expensive camera to spy upon the people around his building, whose class and racial complexion are othered and exploited, even gazed upon at Sergio's leisure.  It is, in fact, these sequences that seem to sum up the issues of the film beautifully.  The film seems to ask what good can come from change and a desire to alter the landscape of a country that is being passed down and decided by a for so high up as to be literally detached from the ground.  Their understanding of the problems does not speak to the deaths happening on the ground, only the lofty ambitions to be equal to the West, although this idea, as the narrative seems to hint, will never, and can never happen.

Key Scene:  There is a nice repeat montage of some dancing and striptease scenes in the middle of the film that is experimentally sound and metaphorically powerful.

This is a doozy to come buy and does not appear to be receiving an American release in future, as such I strongly recommend watching it but will leave you to your own devices to figure out how to do so.

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.

If You Lose The War, Don't Blame Me: The General (1926)

I have long adored Buster Keaton as being both a brilliant filmmaker and a master of the slapstick comedy genre.  In many ways one can tie Keaton to all the best elements of the silent era, whether they be the great narratives, captivating visuals or senses for a cinematic landscape that is capable of intense specifics and grand generalities.  The General is certainly Keaton's most well-regarded film, one that often gets placed as number one in his oeuvre as well as being in top hundred lists on a near regular basis, in fact, if I am not mistaken it has also managed to find its way onto the most recent incarnation of the Sight and Sound poll.  While I will probably always be partial to Sherlock Jr., I certainly found myself completely captivated by the world of The General and even became aware of myself laughing out loud at many moments in the film, something that seems to be a rare occurrence when I engage with movies these days, let alone a silent era film at that.  Perhaps it is the universality of the narrative, or the genuine zeal of the stunts and comedy in The General, but damn if it is not a well-perfected bit of film, that leads me to suggest that it is no far extension to mention the late Keaton in the same breath as other major cinematic figures, whether they be Welles, Kurosawa or Renoir.  I know that Chaplin would prove more successful and that Harold Lloyd would commit to a higher degree of insanity, but one of my many adorations towards Keaton is his seeming ability to effortlessly weave both the serious elements of his film, in this case, the trials of war, with complete absurdity, thus allowing viewers to, unknowingly, become fully aware of the more serious and to some degree illogical elements of war.  Of course, it is not necessarily the ideal commentary one would hope for considering the clear positive and negative sides of the war, however, it is a film from the twenties, and is certainly far more critical of The South than say, The Birth of a Nation, furthermore, it is not unlikely that Keaton stages his protagonist on the side of the Confederacy as a means to layer on the irony.  If all of this manages, however, to not be a selling point it is worth remembering that this film possesses the single most expensive scene in all of the silent era pictures, and is well worth it as far as the history of cinema should be concerned.

The General focuses on the attempts of railroad engineer Johnnie Gray (Buster Keaton) to become a soldier with the Confederacy, almost entirely to assure the well being of his fiancee Annabelle Lee (Marion Mack) and the upkeep of his locomotive The General, for where the film obviously draws its title.  Upon discovering that Gray is a engineer the South rejects his desires to enlist and say that he should stay at home, however, the officers fail to explain their decision to Gray who assumes it is a negative choice, leading to his repeated attempts to join the Confederacy, particularly after he is egged on by his fiancee's brother and father.  Annabelle not realizing precisely why Gray is not enlisted, threatens to leave him unless he shows up in the clothing of the Confederacy.  Time passes and during an unusual event, Annabelle becomes a prisoner to escaping soldiers, leading to Gray chasing them down on a pushcart, which leads to the mid-section of the film which is a glorious and lengthy set of chases and re-chases between Gray and the soldiers in blue, often taking turns throwing things into one another's paths to slow down their already specified mobility.  During a night when Gray sneaks into the enemy camp he discovers their plans, which revolve heavily around a specific bridged trade route and after taking the lead in his locomotive, he is able to draw the Union soldiers towards the bridge, which he has started on fire, causing the passing trains to pass over the bridge, only to have it cave in while riding over it, leading to the destruction of the trade route in the process.   This is followed by a thorough trouncing of the soldiers on the part of the South, a barrage which directly involves Gray, at one point he becomes the bearer of the Confederate flag.  In the end, however, Gray obtains the thing he truly desires, via reuniting with his fiancee who has forgiven him and understands his situation, the two are shown kissing, while Gray half-heartedly salutes the passing soldiers, considering that his efforts on the train led to several degrees of promotion in one fell swoop.

The General is a lot of different things, whether it be a early reflection on the filmic possibilities concerning an anti-war statement, a fear of modernization blocking from human interaction, even in a negative sense, or perhaps most obviously it is a romance.  One with these suggestions can create arguments as to their validity and relevance to the respective film, however, there is an undeniable and outspoken consensus that this is easily one of the greatest comedic films of all-time, in not the to few concerning America specifically.  The question then arises as to what precisely makes The General such a stand out comedy, often placed higher on lists than any other Keaton film, and in many instances well above the first mention of Chaplin.  I would suggest that a ton of the support and eventual critical success of the film is its purposeful commitment to some of the more traditional tropes of Westernized culture, although completely reverting and reappropriating them to fit the desired situation.  It is no small feat to move a large train forwards and backwards, let alone choreographing one's movements through that area as well, much like Lloyd and Chaplin the shear athleticism is baffling and to center it within a comedic context is something entirely its own brilliance.  Keaton would often forces his way through scenes to make the moment work, diving, twisting and dodging accordingly all in the name getting the ideal shot or sequence.  Where the slapstick elements not enough, however, it manages to be further brilliant by the genuine comedy of the plot and the passing of being a soldier for either side, by simply switching coats, a mockery of Benedict Arnold, while also earnestly considering what it means to identify with one side during a war.  Perhaps the real humor in the film, however, comes at its most scathing moment, wherein Gray ignores all the killing he has done now that he has repossessed the affections of his fiancee, suggesting he would literally kill to win her back.  As noted before, it is seemingly simple, however, it has layers of irony and criticism when one pauses to truly place the situation against the backdrop of the war occurring simultaneously.

Key Scene:  The match cut of Keaton dropping stuff of the train while the following train and soldiers continually pick the stuff of the tracks is filmmaking 101, but few have used the match cut as well since...oh yeah there is also this really cool train crash sequence.

Buy this movie, it is a backbone for any collection.  I certainly plan on upgrading to blu in the near future.

Nature, Mr. Allnut, Is What We Are Put Here To Rise Above: The African Queen (1951)

I has been roughly six full years since I have decided film to be my biggest passion in life and since then I have seen a variety of films and sought out both the masterworks of film, as well as obscurities and absurdities in between, always taking very seriously the earnest suggestions of individuals along the way.  During the first six months or so of my endeavors I was strongly encouraged to watch The African Queen by a person whose love for classic movies and John Wayne seemed to assure that I would enjoy this work very much.  At the time, however, The African Queen was very much out of print and quite hard to come by and it was something I had always hoped to visit but never remembered to go out of my way to obtain a copy for, which to view.  In the past year, however, copyrights appear to have changed and not only is this lovely film available in both DVD and Bluray formats, it is now also watch instantly on Netflix, making this long unavailable classic open to a whole new generation of burgeoning cinephiles, and this is a gift of a film, with value extending well beyond its more than a half-century of age.  At once a war, romance, travel and religious film, paired with problematic commentaries on gender and colonization, The African Queen is nothing short of cinematic perfection and the commitment to stellar acting on the part of both stars Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart quickly snatch viewers into the world of the film, never allowing their hold to loosen, even in some of the films most over-the-top and unbelievable moments.  I can now understand why the individual who recommended this movie was so adamant that I see it immediately, and while it only took me six years to get around to doing so I am completely grateful for the initial recommendation, it is quite obvious that films like The African Queen in all their earnestness and mass appeal only come along one in awhile its newest reemergence only speaks to its historical place and the necessity of it being revisited many times, both in regards to the growingly masterful of oeuvre of John Huston, whose films are always a pleasant surprise to me, as well as a fine piece of film regardless of time or place.

The African Queen primarily focuses on two characters, the first being Rose Sayer (Katherine Hepburn) a devout woman of the Methodist faith who, along with her brother Samuel (Robert Morley) have taken it upon themselves to bring the name of Jesus Christ to the native peoples of Africa, even going so far as to build a church in their village.  The second character is the carefree Charlie Allnut (Humphrey Bogart) who is willing to do anything to make money and assure the livelihood of himself and the functionality of his dear ship The African Queen.  Yet when the village is attacked by enraged Nazi's Samuel dies and the only persons left surviving, along with a few villagers who quickly flee are that of Rose and Charlie, who begrudgingly become companions in an attempt to escape the inevitable return of the German soldiers.  Using The African Queen as a means of navigation they travel down river, aimlessly until Rose suggest that they use the oxygen tanks on board, as well as other supplies to exact revenge upon the Nazi warship called the Louisa.  Charlie at first is dismissive because he associates his livelihood with the boat and sees Rose as a prudish simpleton, hoping only to escape their situation and unload her as quickly as possible, yet as many a story note, confined cohabitation can lead to forced intimacy, whether it be their need to get out of the rain or the necessary task of removing leeches off of a half-naked body, at some point animosity turns into admiration and eventually becomes adoration and Rose and Charlie eventually find themselves in the throws of passion, as best they could be shown circa 1951.  With a new drive and the companionship of one another the two take upon their journey to torpedo the Louisa, a task that proves a failure due to rain and unforeseen bouts of tumultuous water. They are at this point captured by Nazi sailors who have them set to hang, only to be saved at the very last moment by the sunken African Queen and its bunches of compressed air, which help to destroy the ship and afford Charlie and Rose an escape to safety.  They are shown swimming away in what can only be assumed to be a happy future together.

This film exudes sexuality, but that is not to to say that it is graphic or visually erotic, in fact, it exists entirely within the realm of metaphor and manages to use the sexualized image to a degree that would cause one to think of early surrealist work by Luis Buñuel.  Take for example the scene where Rose must clean herself in the river, it is not a scene of nudity, but certainly is a modest one by the standards of the era.  Viewers, however, share the same ability to see Rose as Charlie does, often only seeing her foot or hand peak above the boat or out of the side of the water.  It is a point of curiosity that has a certain degree of sexual curiosity about it, affirmed by Charlie looking way from Rose as she boards the boat, but as he does so his gaze become almost nearly direct with the viewer, allow those watching to see his eyebrows raise and eyes move about, clearly imagining what is occurring behind him, as do the viewers, because he blocks their line of sight.  Gaze is problematized because viewers are forced to ignore the next layer, while relating to the confrontation of Charlie's gaze which is reflecting the request for modesty on the part of Rose.  Nonetheless, the entire scene is frothing with sexual tension, only to be heightened by moments of removing leaches from Charlie's body, or the "release" of all the gin, which proves to be the upswing in regards to Charlie who takes a new liking to Rose despite being initially frustrated at her actions.  Other minor moments of Charlie repairing the boat, or Rose salting Charlie's leech bites have degrees of sexual tension, all leading up to the moment where they drown themselves in passion, working in unison to repair the boat motor, a choreographed moment of such intimacy that it is impossible to ignore, and should anyone be unsure about this, the monsoon scene that affords the two the final lift out of the river, undoubtedly, affirms their passion for one another, even if on an incredibly metaphorical level.  I mean, one could even see their swimming way from the exploded Louisa as a post-intercourse moment of ecstasy.  This of course is one reading, but a grounded one that I cannot help but support.

Key Scene:  The hanging scene is surprisingly jarring visually and reminded me of the very real crime that was going on during the particular period in which the film was set.

This well worth owning, but can easily be watched via Netflix.  For those who, like myself, will instantly fall in the movie, the bluray can be obtained for relatively cheap.

Retain, Even In Opposition, Your Capacity For Astonishment: Lincoln (2012)

I will do something that happens all to often on this blog, in my open choice to recant a previous belief that in regards to Oscar nomination for best male in a lead performance that nobody had anything on the excellent Joaquin Phoenix whose presence in The Master leaked through its crackled surface and glossy veneer to cut at the very question of a likable human being.  I was sure that even with my undeniable zeal for Daniel Day-Lewis that his performance would be lesser than what Phoenix provides.  While I still very much adore Phoenix and think his performance may well be the best of his career, when I popped Lincoln into view, I was aware from the moment that Lewis and his method acted version of Lincoln filled the screen that his acting would without question be far superior to his absolutely excellent counterparts.  It is something far different than There Will Be Blood, but, nonetheless, manages to show a very honed set of skills that jump out to viewers, each lengthy monologue welcomed with just the right amount of score by the infallible John Williams is more than enough to cause a viewer to become heavily invested in the film, so much so, that when it finally does end and the credits emerge the emotive drain is hard to ignore.  I mean to consider that alongside Day-Lewis' Lincoln are a slew of other respectable actors including, amongst others Tommy Lee Jones, Joseph Gordon Levitt, James Spader, Hal Holbrook and Tim Blake Nelson, and that is only naming a few.  I am not one to hold Spielberg in contempt for his particular style of filmmaking, especially in regards to its heavy handed nature, instead, I am fully aware of the stylistic choices he makes as a director and allow for them to permeate my experience, something I have attempted to do with more recent Michael Bay films with no success.  Even the detractors of Spielberg cannot deny the absolute magnitude and cinematic zeal of Lincoln, an absolutely inspiring narrative that is only made the more precise by a decidedly on-the-nose Tony Kushner script, Lincoln is what one should aspire to when making a biopic, in all its absolute intensity and surprising modesty.

Lincoln, despite being a film about one of America's most well-regarded presidents, nonetheless, considers a very specific portion of his presidency, the months leading up to the signing into affect of the Thirteenth Amendment, ultimately, and legally abolishing slavery in the Union, soon again to be The United States in a completist sense.  As history has shown, this was an incredibly complex process and one that Abraham Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis) had to face while also handling the woes of his personal life, firstly, dealing with his mentally-troubled wife Mary Todd (Sally Field) and his gung-ho son Robert (Joseph Gordon Levitt) who felt it necessary to join the war effort to assure his self-worth, despite running the very real risk of losing his life.  Being the brilliant man that Lincoln was he is fully capable of navigating the various rungs of his administration, gathering respect from most everyone he talked with given his penchant for long-winded stories and breadth of factual knowledge, despite being almost entirely self-educated.  The problem emerges, not when opposition emerges, because Lincoln and his conclave of politicians are sure that they can obtain swing votes, it is the though that pushing the amendment through will only occur if a suggestion of its necessity to a peace agreement can be created, something that is problematized when the officers of the Confederate Army find themselves desiring piece talks.  Lincoln facing the decision to prolong slavery with the posibility of instant peace or ignoring these request with an assurance that the enslavement of man will end in The United States leads him to a multi-tiered moral quandary, which is only solved while rambling about geometry with a scribe one night.  Along with the help of Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones) and the surprising swing votes of a handful of democrats the amendment is able to pass and slavery is subsequently abolished, not long after a crippling Confederate army surrenders and Lincoln allows them to flee accordingly.  While this is not a film about his entire life, it does, nonetheless, include his assassination, although it happens out of the scene, instead focusing on the trauma faced by his youngest child.  The film closes with an aging Lincoln offering a speech on prosperity and the human will, before somberly fading to black thus ending the epic narrative of a few months in America's bloodiest war.

Lincoln is an example of the classical Hollywood style properly realized.  I know many film lovers who suggest that Clint Eastwood is the last classicist making films and while I would tend to agree with that in the fullest, I would also argue that Spielberg possesses a certain degree of classicism, the only difference is that he came to his through evolution as a filmmaker, whereas Eastwood began as an actor in the world of Western classics and took this style into his movies.  One only need to break down any shot in Lincoln and realize that the stoic staged presence of each actor, paired with a set that defines the idea of chiaroscuro, as wall as the previously mentioned John Williams scores, make for everything one must have experienced when attending a film during the alleged "classic" era of Hollywood.  Even the sort of bombastic, hyper intensity one comes to expect from Day-Lewis is reigned in within this film, although, it is not ironic in the slightest, considering that the probable expectation would be this intensity seen in There Will Be Blood or Gangs of New York for such a major and visioned figure in American history.  Instead, Day-Lewis goes the way of simplicity with his version of Lincoln, finding himself far more concerned with portraying the man in his most humane, humble, a bit awkward socially and completely occupied with the notion of justice and a greater truth.  Similarly, much in the way of classical style the film is inundated with notable actors and faces, however, when this often happens in newer films characters constantly attempt to one-up one another, often making a mess in the process.  Lincoln is much more in line with the classic stylings and respect for large casts of respected actors, in the case of this film it is clear that everyone involved works in the space of Day-Lewis while also realizing that it is his space and they have just been fortunate enough to briefly share it for awhile.  A combination of hyper-intellectual dialogue on the part of Kushner, masterful scoring and a roster of classic style actors makes the case for Spielberg existing in the realm of classicism more and more with each film he makes.

Key Scene:  As much as I do not want to side with the Academy the monologue they picked for Day-Lewis when showing his performance in Lincoln is certainly the highlight of the film and is one of many brilliant moments.

This is obviously worth watching and I would even say worth owning.  It is a reminder of the power Spielberg has when committed to directing something visionary.