Harmonies on Film

Persepolis (2007): A-

2008-01-19T17:33:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud. Screenplay: Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud. Cast: Chiara Mastroianni, Catherine Deneuve, Danielle Darrieux and Simon Abkarian. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics. Runtime: 95 min. Rating: Pg-13.

Based on Marjane Satrapi's own animated series—and brought to life by herself with the help of Vincent Paronnaud—Persepolis is a technical triumph as much as it is a striking evocation of growing up, a testament to what the cinema can transcend through artistry coupled with humanism. As brazenly honest as films about their own creators go, Persepolis recounts Satrapi's (Voiced by Lopes as a young girl) coming of age from 1979's Iranian revolution to her move to Vienna in the 80's during her adolescence (she is voiced by Mastroianni an adolescent and an adult). It is, indeed, a time of political crisis in Iran, as in each frame their is an echo of threats and distrusts, from her father's (voiced by Abkarian) hope to her mother's (voiced by Deneuve) rightful unwillingness to comply with the government. Each chapter—the film is framed by time segments—contains its own joys and laughs; but as a whole, through the austerity of the animated images comes a poignantly simple, unpretentious and utterly sincere tale of what it means to grow up through a time of war and suffering. That it does this through its masterful aesthetic design—from the beautiful eyes of little Marjane to each unique frame—only helps to create a marvel of animation. But none of this is fake. No, Persepolis, as truthful as stories come, is a work of true expression. Unlike so many of today's superficial films, you can feel the director spilling her emotions in every frame.

The Lives of Others (2006): A-

2007-12-26T15:54:00.001-05:00

Director(s): Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck. Screenplay: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck. Cast: Martina Gedeck, Ulrich Mühe, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur, Thomas Thieme, Hans-Uwe Bauer, Volkmar Kleinert, Matthias Brenner, Thomas Arnold, Ludwig Blochberger, Werner Daehn, Marie Gruber and Udo Hübner. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics. Runtime: 137 min. Rating: R.

It's rare that first films from a first director get my full support, but The Lives of Others is really something special, both beautifully portrayed and written. It's also clear, of course, that Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck has skill; even though it's only his first film, some of the content of the film is so remarkable that it immediately brings to mind a feel of veteran mastery.

The film takes place in East Germany, 1984. There are two good men, but they are never shown on the same frame together. One, Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), a successful playwright; the other, Capt. Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe, who gives of what is the best supporting performance in recent memory), the Stasi officer who spies on him. Georg, tall and intelligent, leads something of a charmed life, enjoying a measure of official favor without losing the respect of his fellow artists, who are not all as lucky, or as circumspect, as he is. Capt. Wiesler, a first-appearing evil teacher of law at the local university, is handed down the case of 'Operation Lazlo'. With the excellent score playing in the background, one immediately sees the apartment bugged cameras on the first floor and the Capt.’s memorable face as he listens in. It is pale; his features are bland -- not too sharp, not at all soft, except for his steel blue eyes.

Critics have already been diminishing the film, claiming that it is flat as a character study. In some ways, they are right, though I suspect that some critics are simply not buying what it's selling (there is a study cached among its excellent tone, its final shot evoking this). Yet The Lives of Others is truly something special and rare, disturbingly accurate and really quite extraordinary. In the end, however, it proves to the viewer not only keen filmmaking skill, but rather the ability of mankind to change upon its surroundings. It's rare that a beginning film reach out to me the way this one did, but The Lives of Others is a most exciting film.

Zodiac (2007): A-

2007-12-25T00:00:00.000-05:00

Director(s): David Fincher. Screenplay: James Vanderbilt. Cast: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, Anthony Edwards, Robert Downy Jr., Brian Cox, Chloë Sevigny, Elias Koteas, Dermot Mulroney, Donal Logue, Clea DuVall, Philip Baker Hall and John Carroll Lynch. Distributor: Paramount Pictures. Runtime: 155 min. Rating: R. Year: 2007.

Exhilarating, unshakeable, mesmerizing, baffling, and adept beyond belief, David Fincher's Zodiac neither lacks ambition nor audacity. Combining all aspects of Fincher's works from his cynical Se7en to his brilliant Fight Club, Zodiac is of the rarest—and dying—kind of Hollywood thrillers, both simplistically alive and meticulously astute.

Both a superb character study and a film about true obsessions, Zodiac chronicles various people as they try to uncover the true killer that terrorized the bay area for more than 22 years. The first scene—the film's seemingly drawing introduction— is truly unshakeable: a young couple is stationed at a very high altitude (possibly a mountain). As they wonder along with their business, a car stops. It is seemingly dark, allowing the eyes watching the film to see nothing. The car waits and pulls away. The couple is startled, but as they are caught up in their oblique emotions the man in the car returns and comes out. "You gave us quite a scare", says the young man. As a memorable rock tune plays in the background, the couple is shot down relentlessly. So comes the first death, so comes the mesmerizing Zodiac. A string of other murders pursue, and thus we are introduced to the characters. For one, San Francisco Chronicle "boy scout" cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal), compulsive but a good man. The second, a hard boiled Mark Ruffalo as David Toschi, the main investigator in the case. And finally, the brilliant, boozy, ascot-wearing Francisco Chronicle reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr., exhibiting his usual quirky, attractive idiosyncrasies.) They each part their own way, all finding info on the killer but never anything conclusive. Graysmith, on the side of Avery, smartly cracks codes from the zodiac sent to the Chronicle, which gives good credit to Gyllenhal. Overall, he plays his part well, both compulsively pitched and shaky (his character). Shot on state-of-the-art HD by Harris Savides via a process that required absolutely no celluloid or tape, Zodiac gives off somewhat of a rich, smoky feel, often felt as if it were shot with a Mini DV. This also gives a feel of realism towards a film that is not supposed to be interpreted that way at all. Such a toned-down aesthetic (full of fades to black) is matched by David Shire's taut score and the director's conspicuously reserved camerawork, which favors both masterful crane-shots and visual close-ups giving the audience it's grab towards emotion. Years pass by and still there is nothing, yet, Graysmith develops an obsession towards finding the killer. Convinced that former military man and convicted pedophile Arthur Leigh Allen (John Carroll Lynch) is the Zodiac, Graysmith finds himself incapable of doing anything substantial about it, his reward for going crazy and alienating loved ones and colleagues proves his obsession. He ends up writing a book all about the Zodiac, and this is where the film comes from; the taut script seems to be original but isn't, both juxtaposing key informative points and the reality of character.

Although Zodiac looks like the average, done-deal, it truly isn't. Mixed with stunning casting (especially Ruffalo, who finally proves himself), a beautiful chronology that never seems to slog the film's pace, and a feeling of overall realism, Zodiac really is a director at the top of his game. The film is in its own world, unique in its own ways, but also glares a sense of naturalism. Zodiac embeddes the beauty of itself in our minds, creating a stark, unforgettable journey that truly must be seen to be believed.

After the Wedding (2006): B+

2007-12-24T17:41:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Susanne Bier. Screenplay: Susanne Bier and Anders Thomas Jensen. Cast: Mads Mikkelsen, Sidse Babett Knudsen, Rolf Lassgård, Stine Fischer Christensen, Mona Malm, Christian Tafdrup and Niels Anders Thorn. Distributor: IFC Films. Runtime: 119 min. Rating: NR. Year: 2006.

Susanne Bier's After the Wedding was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the Academy Awards this past February. And deservingly so. Yet another richly complex foreign language film, After the Wedding is illuminating, a film whose deep rofoundness reaches an unfathomable cathartic level past any simple contrivance. Jacob (a silently effective Mads Mikkelsen), from Denmark, runs an orphanage in India. This is where Bier's film starts, and she uses a DV—just a simple part of the film's proving aesthetic—to film it. The first shot is of kids lining up waiting for Jacob to feed them. When summoned to Denmark to sustain the orphanage, a kid, quite close to Jacob who lives there says, "You won't come back". Jacob laughs at him, claiming that he hates rich people. Once in Denmark, Jacob meets the obscenely rich Jørgen (Rolf Lassgård), who immediately cuts business and invites him to his daughter's wedding. Jacob goes, but a secret ensues: Jørgen's daughter (Stine Fischer Christensen) (spoiler alert!) is really Jacob's, and Jørgen's wife was once his girlfriend. The film surprisingly avoids soap-drama machinations; for one, Bier's film is concentrated on the human catharsis, and second, more than anything, the actors stop this from occurring. The whole cast—especially Rolf Lassgård, who plays Jørgen—acts magnificently, and without this aspect such a film would be down the drain. Bier's aesthetic is appeased by the film's own poetic milieu— the extreme close-ups, flowers, the house, and taxidermied animals, are just signs of precious life itself. Another one of After the Wedding's stratagems is that someone is dying—it's (spoiler alert!) Jørgen. Many scenes are purely emotionally arresting. Bier knows this throughout; as the film moves along, scenes become stressed and everything is evoked into turmoil. Bier plays with this aspect mostly through Jørgen—whose death waits quite soon—and not even after his death is the film satisfactory: Bier still plays with Jacob. More than anything, After the Wedding is just simply a character study—a complicated, but superb one. The circumstances are complex, but connaissence it does not lack; the depth of each character is immeasurable for just one viewing.Demoralizing to its very core, After the Wedding is richly multifaceted and rough, but posses a harmonious spiritual center. Multiple viewings, will, no doubt, reveal more, but from one viewing, Bier's film is emotionally stable, with a cathartic thrust of gold.

By the end of the film, Jacob is forced to stay in Denmark as part of a deal he signed with Jørgen. This is Bier's last and most unpredictable trick: the kid was right.

Juno (2007): B

2007-12-23T23:34:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Jason Reitman. Screenplay: Diablo Cody. Cast: Ellen Page, Michael Cera, Jennifer Garner, Jason Bateman, Olivia Thirlby, J.K. Simmons, Allison Janney, Rainn Wilson and Lucas MacFadden. Distributor: Fox Searchlight Pictures. Runtime: 92 min. Rating: PG-13.

The brilliance of Juno is in the way it presents itself to the audience. After the pretentious, smug, absurdly overrated Thank You for Smoking, I walked in with low expectations; totally unlike Jason Reitman's previous film, Juno is a wonderfully unpretentious character study that, in the long run, ends up being more touching than any recent comedy has the right to be. The film stars Ellen Page—and inhabiting it perfectly—as its titular character Juno, a sixteen year old who finds herself knocked up by her best friend (Michael Cera); abortion seems to not exactly be Juno's most-wanted option, as she opts for foster parents (Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman) to take care of her child once born. Reitman unpretentiously frames his narrative through seasons, while Cody's witty script seems to beautifully encapsulate Juno's overall psyche through each one. And while the film's first fifteen minutes or so are incredibly dull and dowdy in their familiarity, Juno marvelously finds its soul—by the end, it achieves an unfathomably graceful, almost pitch-perfect harmony.

The Savages (2007): B

2007-12-23T23:16:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Tamara Jenkins. Screenplay: Tamara Jenkins. Cast: Laura Linney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Philip Bosco, Peter Friedman, Gbenga Akinnagbe and Cara Seymour. Distributor: Fox Searchlight Pictures. Runtime: 113 min. Rating: R.

Tamara Jenkins' new film, The Savages, deals with the ubiquitous dilemma of dealing with the elders when they can no longer care for themselves. While the film takes a different approach then the brilliant aesthetic qualities and profound themes of Away from Her, Jenkins' work clearly stresses this as its theme, its modus operandi a more comical yet nevertheless biting portrayal of a similar situation to that as Sarah Polley's work. It is one, conversely, about two siblings, playwrights Jon and Wendy (Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney), forced to roadblock their "lives" in favor of taking care of their Dementia-diagnosed father (Peter Friedman); all three go into the whole nursing home crisis, the narrative dutifully dramatizing their plight through comedy and extraordinarily well framed character development. However, it's Hoffman and Linney's pas de deux, bent to Jenkins' acutely stinging writing, that is what robs the show—despite the fact that, unfortunately, it is aestheticized with a buoyant, often un-moving manner. Jenkins can't exactly avoid genre conventions—moments are contrived and predictable—yet The Savages has this bleak, rare sting that comes to it all in a remarkable fashion; while at first light, there is a cached profoundity to the film, ultimately the film's true virtue.

Atonement (2006): C+

2007-12-22T21:20:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Joe Wright. Screenplay: Christopher Hampton. Cast: Keira Knightley, James McAvoy, Romola Garai, Saoirse Ronan, Brenda Blethyn, Vanessa Redgrave, Juno Temple, Patrick Kennedy, Benedict Cumberbatch, Harriet Walter, Michelle Duncan, Gina McKee, Daniel Mays and Alfie Allen. Distributor: Focus Features. Runtime: 122 min. Rating: R.

Oscar season continues with Atonement, Joe Wright's overly-calculated adaptation of Ian McEwan universally acclaimed novel. However moving and faux-imaginative as its primary themes suggest, the film's roadblock is its ostensible and black marked raison d'etre: Academy Awards. The film starts circa the late 1930's, as the war starts to arm up; it is the tale of Briony (Saoirse Ronan), a young girl whose primary love is to write (almost the first thing we hear in the film is the sound of the type-writer, slightly incorporating itself into the film's score). Naivety, however, causes havoc in the family itself, as the child finds herself falsely accusing the gardener, played by the solid James McAvoy, of raping her sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley)—though they are both in love—as well as, incidentally, a member in the extended family; one could say, indeed, that it is an indignant plan—Brinony herself being herself a striving writer—though it certainly doesn't stop the whole dilemma from entering the war, as Cecilia and her love find herself separated at the cost of the girl' stupid little mistake (the titular "atonement" comes into play later in the film.) Fashioned in faux-chronological order, the narrative itself feels strained of naturalness, though nevertheless one able to portray its characters emotions. Yet the film's main problem, however, is in its uneven feeling: however dire their situation is, Atonement refuses to go deeper, almost even afraid to scrap true emotions, despite its harshly realistic ending; one could say that, ironically, Wright has dubiously diminished the themes of his work to please its audience. Artistically, however, the film proves its virtues through a magnificent color palette and cinematography (including a stunning eight-minute tracking shot on the beach, perfectly queued and felt), with both Knightely and McAvoy proving an interesting chemistry on the frame. Moving it is, though the clash of these two ideas ultimately renders Atonement as a semi-beautiful, semi-flawed, semi-felt, and finally, semi-poignant concoction.

2007 New York Film Critics Online Winners

2007-12-12T15:50:00.000-05:00

Top 11 Films:
Atonement
Before the Devil Knows You're Dead
The Darjeeling Limited
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
I'm Not There
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men
Persepolis
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
There Will Be Blood

Picture: There Will Be Blood and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Director: P.T. Anderson (There Will Be Blood)
Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis (There Will Be Blood)
Actress: Julie Christie (Away from Her)
Supporting Actor: Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men)
Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett (I'm Not There)
Screenplay: Wes Anderson, Roman Coppola and Jason Schwartzman (The Darjeeling Limited)
Cinematography: Robert Elswit (There Will Be Blood)
Music/Score: Jonny Greenwood (There Will Be Blood)
Foreign Language: Persepolis and The Lives of Others
Documentary: Sicko
Animated Feature: Persepolis
Debut Director: Sarah Polley (Away from Her)
Breakthrough Performance: Ellen Page (Juno)
Ensemble Cast: Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

Participants: Ethan Alter, Chris Barsanti, Fred and Mary Ann Brussat, Marcy Dermansky, Edward Douglas, David Edelstein, Jurgen Fauth, Ed Gonzalez, Susan Granger, Ron Henriques, Brandon Judell, Harvey Karten, Glenn Kenny, Kurt Loder, Maitland McDonagh, Prairie Miller, Scott Nash, Michelle Orange, Louis Proyect, Rex Reed, Julian Roman, Chuck Schwartz, Dana Stevens, Armond White, Kam Williams, William Wolf, Stephanie Zacharek

So, as the year comes to an end, the NYFCO releases their top films list. (I linked them all up to cin-o-matic.) To be blunt: There Will Be Blood has robbed the show, and I really cannot wait for it - my top ten list will probably come out after watching Persepolis and that film; in the meantime, I am working on a few more reviews before the year ends. A great selection of some of the best films of the year are available over at Slant, and it was released today: 2007 Year in Film

Drama/Mex (2006): B-

2007-12-07T07:22:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Gerardo Naranjo. Screenplay: Gerardo Naranjo. Cast: Fernando Becerril, Juan Pablo Castaneda, Diana Garcia, Martha Claudia Moreno, Miriana Moro and Emilio Valdés. Distributor: IFC First Take. Runtime: 93 min. Rating: NR.

Gerardo Naranjo's sophomore feature, Drama/Mex, is as unhinged as its protagonists. The film plays out as an Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu hybrid, dubiously and forcefully trying to connect three stories that are uncoiling in Acapulco. The first is that of Fernanda (Diana Garcia), who runs into Chano (Emilio Valdes), her ex boyfriend, at a cafe; the next thing you know, they're in bed. In this case, the drama is that, familiar as it may seem, she already has a boyfriend named Gonzalo (Juan Pablo Castaneda). At the same time, another tedious narrative thread follows Mariana, who, just after being hired by fellow prostitutes, spots Jaime (Fernando Becerril)—a pretty-damn-old man who has such meaningless life that he basically goes to the city to kill himself—and gets him to feed her, entertain her, and shelter her. Despite its grand and promising opening sequence, filled with ambition and audacity, the main problem with Drama/Mex, of course, is its callously exasperating narrative; jaundiced to its very core, it ends up going all over the place, as we now find Gonzalo attacking Chano, Jaime at the club, Fernanda running all over the place, and Mariana buying anything she can. What starts out as a finely nuanced, audaciously handsome drama evolves into a frustrating imbroglio, with a familiar ending that fails to unite its narrative threads; culminating happily, yet with a profound feel—and, as odd as it may seem, such disaster can be pliantly interpreted, even appealingly. Indeed, Drama/Mex is not entirely with out its merit: Naranjo's mesmerizing camera work fits its milieu perfectly, and the fact that he studies his characters first, before sending them to ruin, is proof of its boundless self-confidence—all of which are perpetuated by the miraculous cast which beautifully portrays the dubious situations.

The Violin (2005): B+

2007-12-03T16:18:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Francisco Vargas. Screenplay: Francisco Vargas. Cast: Ángel Tavira, Gerardo Taracena, Dagoberto Gama, Mario Garibaldi, Fermín Martínez, Silverio Palacios, Octavio Castro, Mercedes Hernández, Gerardo Juárez, Ariel Galvan, Amorita Rasgado and María Elena Olivares. Runtime: 98 min. Rating: NR.

A strikingly accurate, yet minimalistic and starkly self-reflexive depiction of war, Francisco Vargas Quevedo's The Violin may be one of the greatest Mexican films—an independent one at that—the country has released in quite some time. The film has been adapted from a 15 minute short of the same name—also directed by Vargas—though its unforgettable story of war is no less humanistic and tender, particularly given its violent opening scene: one is thrust into the depths of peasants in the midst of torture, their captors in search of rebels running a civil war against the military. This really plays as the ending, given its main narrative thread is Don Plutarco (Angel Tavira), an old, very wise man who passes as a violin player in order to seize ammo for his cause of the civil war. In his path lies a music-loving commander, who ultimately really ends up friending Plutarco until the film's last scene. Yet The Violin rings with an unfathomable amount of tenderness, whether portrayed through the lens of Vargas' austerely sumptuous black-and-white cinematography to non actor Angel Tavira's incredibly realistic role; the man won best actor at last year's Cannes. And Vargas' realization of the camaraderie amongst the peasants is also surprisingly and warmly portrayed, essentially giving the film its humanistic feel. That Vargas' storytelling is unique and rarely found makes The Violin another fantastic testament against the evils of war.

Live-In Maid (2004): B

2007-12-03T15:28:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Jorge Gaggero. Screenplay: Jorge Gaggero. Cast: Norma Aleandro, Norma Argentina, Elsa Berenguer, Hilda Bernard, Monica Gonzaga, Susana Lanterí, Claudia Lapacó and Marcos Mundstock. Distributor: The Film Sales Company. Runtime: 83 min. Rating: NR.

Jorge Gaggero's first feature, Live-In Maid, is a pleasant surprise. The film stars Norma Aleandro as Beba, a bourgeois woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown right before late 2001, when Argentina's economy, already substantially weakened, reached an unprecedentedly bad state. This said, the film's other main protagonist is Dora (Norma Argentina), Beba's live in maid who's already worked at the there for thirty years. As Dora starts to realize that her quite moody boss has barely enough money to pay substantial victuals (as well as her own wage), she decides to take off. It's here where Gaggero's film, especially as his exceedingly nuanced script and wonderful camera work further evoke the time and place, reaches superlative heights—an aspect that only aids the film's astute commentary; essentially, Gaggero recognizes them—especially Dora—as real people. As Beba and Dora's relationship heightens off of the realization that each has his/her identity, their, as well as the film's intimacy, grows by a fantastic amount. Gaggero's script also recognizes the warmth among them; at times funny, piercing, and poignant, it gains heft as it goes along—finally resulting, despite superfluous aesthetic thrust, in a true friendship, as well as something to truly ruminate about.

Paprika (2006): B+

2007-11-27T21:20:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Satoshi Kon. Screenplay: Seishi Minakami and Satoshi Kon. Cast: Megumi Hayashibara, Toru Emori, Katsunosuke Hori, Toru Furuya, Akio Ohtsuka, Kouichi Yamadera, Hideyuki Tanaka, Satomi Kohrogi, Daisuke Sakaguchi, Mitsuo Iwata, Rikako Aikawa, Shinichiro Ohta, Shinya Fukumatsu, Akiko Kawase, Kumiko Izumi, Anri Katsu, Eiji Miyashita, Kouzo Mito, Yasutaka Tsutsui and Satoshi Kon. Distributor: Triumph/Destination Films. Runtime: 90 min. Rating: NR.

From the opening scene to the last, it is clear that Paprika is Satoshi Kon's own paradoxical confession. His new film, an exhilarating, mind-blowing and audaciously satisfying anime, is about Paprika, the peppy dream-detective alter ego of the cold-as-ice Dr. Atsuko Chiba (Megumi Hayashibara), who, after hearing about the theft of the D.C Mini—an object that allows for dream eavesdropping—is forced to stop the dream invader using the actual hacking people's dream sleep as well as stop the dreams that are merging among them. Although Kon's narrative is more complicated than anything imagined, one must realize it is a dream. And don't dreams progress in such a way? Paprika's brilliance comes from Kon's breakneck attention to tempo. Switching from REM sleep to real life, his narrative is so aesthetically developed that it's no wonder that it is so entertaining. Also his ability to shape his characters—specifically Chiba—into cold, one-dimensional characters recalling noir. More than that, however, Paprika is proof of the Japanese advancement in the animated genre that truly leaves American counterparts stuck in the sandbox.

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T12:01:00.000-05:00

Some new reviews can be found below on films that just made DVD (my favorite being Ratatouille), but really the thing that tops the cake is No Country for Old Men, which is as of now probably the single best thing I have seen all year. A review for Todd Haynes' new film, I'm Not There, will soon be up, but in the mean time, happy Thanksgiving!

Ratatouille (2007): A-

2007-11-22T11:53:00.001-05:00

Director(s): Brad Bird. Screenplay: Brad Bird. Cast: Patton Oswalt, Ian Holm, Lou Romano, Brian Dennehy, Peter Sohn, Peter O'Toole, Brad Garrett, Janeane Garofalo and Will Arnett. Distributor: Walt Disney Pictures. Runtime: 110 min. Rating: G. Year: 2007.

Given that most of this year's animated films have mostly been pure deceptions, one could easily say that Ratatouille is nothing short of a miracle. It's more fun than any movie about a rat discovering his true obsessions—then almost being killed—has the right to be. An affectionate, blithe and gleeful concoction that marks Pixar's return to form, Ratatouille finds director Brad Bird—whose Incredibles is one the finest animated film I have ever seen—keenly at it again, now picking up the story of Remy (Patton Oswalt), a rat gifted with senses able to cook and read. Clearly, he's infatuated with the art of cooking—an aspect that, unfortunately, sees him perpetually out of place with his family: while he wants to cook, all they care about is survival. As Remy's senses grandly start to flourish, one now finds him ardently idolizing chef Gusteau (Brad Garrett), even enough to sneak into a rural human home to watch the chef’s food show. From its title sequence on, Ratatouille gradually escalates in not only fun, but brilliance, as Remy now—after being separated from his family—finds himself in the hands of Lunguini (Lou Romano), a slim, partly slow garbage-boy, who has, luckily, found himself a job at Gusteau's restaurant. At his first day's job, Lunguini finds himself "accidentally" ruining a soup. Led by Gusteau, whose ghost claims himself to be a figment of his imagination, Remy is able to fix the soup before it goes out the the customer. Some random food critic gets it (and loves it), and from there, the conundrum starts: after the evil, head chef (Ian Holm) orders Lunguini to kill Remy—who was found in the kitchen—Lunguini, with the threat that he will not be able to live up to the mean chef's standards and knowing that Remy is his only chance of survival in the kitchen, opts not to, now letting Remy live with him.

Remy now controls—by grabbing onto the slim garbage-boy's hair—Linguini like a marionette, and from there, plot is induced. Narratively speaking, Ratatouille, is, first and foremost, a prime example in which objectives of characters are masterfully used. Its invigoration proves, undoubtedly, Bird's ability to pick up whatever narrative he chooses and bend it to a work of art. As odd as it may seem, Ratatouille is also a brilliantly sophisticated metaphor: from Gusteau's phrase "Anyone can cook" to Remy's raison d'etre, the film juxtaposes the fact that anyone—even a rodent—can do anything to change the course of history. The fact that Remy's naïveté leads him to believe that humans are forgivable creatures is also figuratively used to aid Ratatouille as a whole.

Pixar's animation is, as usual, flawless: from Remy's humorously big, yet cute eyes to the beautifully framed mise-en-scene of Paris, Ratatouille is, for all intents and purposes, delectable. Indeed, as unfortunate as it may seem, the film does not top The Incredibles, but nevertheless, this droll paean to life is a marvel—definitely one of those films nearly flawless in creation, and profoundly received in the heart.

Rescue Dawn (2006): C

2007-11-22T11:45:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Werner Herzog. Screenplay: Werner Herzog. Cast: Christian Bale, Jeremy Davies, Steve Zahn, Marshall Bell, François Chau, Craig Gellis, Zach Grenier, Pat Healy, GQ, Toby Huss, Bonnie Z. Hutchinson, Evan Jones, Abhijati "Meuk" Jusakul, Tony B. King, Richard Manning, Garrett D. Melich, Kriangsak Ming-olo, Yuttana Muenwaja and Teerawat Mulvilai. Distributor: MGM. Runtime: 126 min. Rating: R.

Given the origins and continuance of Werner Herzog's still-growing oeuvre, it's safe to say that Rescue Dawn, his newest film, is not up to par with his other works. Recreating the magnificent Little Dieter Needs to Fly into a motion picture, Herzog now eschews a Hollywood-esque narrative that results in exactly something that one didn't expect: another conventional POW escape film. Despite the ethereally realized evocation of time and place, Rescue Dawn is a fine-grained disappointment, not because of the fact that the film fundamentally does not work, but because the result could have added to so much more; the fact is, the film simply seems robbed of Herzog.

Rescue Dawn, unlike most of his films—including the masterful The White Diamond—only encapsulates two of the directors current thematic obsessions: obsessed heroes and nature. Herzog sees Dieter Dengler (a fantastic—like usual—Christian Bale) as a god, which gives him space to aestheticize the former with the latter. While on his first bombing mission over pre-Vietnam War Laos in 1966, Dengler is hit by incoming enemy fire, subsequently crashing on Laotian territory. After being captured by local Laotian soldiers, Dengler—who had just wittingly refused to sign a paper claiming the U.S.'s harms—is put into a POV camp with fellow inmates (among them played by Zahn and Davies). After careful planning and timing, the inmates escape. Up to this point, Rescue Dawn plays as an efficient, barely Herzog recognizable action film. Herzog's camera-work still proves the keen adeptness of the director's skill, but such an aspect is even, as odd as it may seem, quite rare. His script, as usual, is pretty much impeccable, proficiently capturing Dengler's relentless drive to escape.

The thick, mountainous cinematography evokes a fantastically real atmosphere of escape (yet I do not know how the hell Scott Foundas of LA WEEKLY can compare this to Robert Bresson; the latter was a master at escape, turning everything into art), but as surprising as it may seem, Rescue Dawn, through out, lacks that kind of direction-less trance that was conjured in his masterpiece Aguirre: The Wrath of God and subsequent Fitzcarraldo. More than anything, Rescue Dawn, unlike all of his previous films, lacks that and one more thing: the metamorphosis into an eloquent spiritual, transcendental journey. Powerful scenes in the film prove quickly forgettable—much of it, thanks to Klaus Badelt's heinously Hollywood-esque score—and the ending is the true meaning of a disappointment: essentially, it reeks of furthermore Hollywood sentimentality—to the degree that one can not (or dares not) consider it as a Herzog film anymore. It's crystal-clear that the great director could have done so much more with the ending, and it is really quite pernicious, because such a realization of Rescue Dawn's sentimentally familiar end fails to perpetuate it as a heavenly composite of the film's collective whole, something that leaves the viewer visually—and deceptively—circumvented. The acting pas de deux on display in the film clearly redeems the film from any type of inscrutable nightmare, and as the abhorrent score plays during the finale, one can't help but to wonder why Herzog's hallucinatory spell was broken. The act of self-reflexivity has been stripped away, and all is left is pure Herzogian convention. For all it's flaws, At least one can thank MGM that it's a Herzog film.

Ocean's Thirteen (2007): C+

2007-11-22T11:40:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Steven Soderbergh. Screenplay: Brian Koppelman and David Levien. Cast: Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Matt Damon, Elliott Gould, Al Pacino, Eddie Jemison, Don Cheadle, Shaobo Qin, Casey Affleck, Scott Caan, Bernie Mac, Carl Reiner, Eddie Izzard, Ellen Barkin, Julian Sands, David Paymer, Vincent Cassel, Andy Garcia and Oprah Winfrey. Distributor: Warner Bros.. Runtime: 122 min. Rating: PG-13. Year: 2007.

There's no denying the slight slickness and rendered fun of Steven Soderbergh's Ocean's Thirteen, but the problem is exactly that—everything is slicked up to say to the point of monotonous anesthetics. This time around, it's the whole gang getting payback on some rich-ass casino magnate (Pacino) for putting the gangs idle, Reuben (Gould), in the hospital. Their plan, you ask? Steal the money from his new, shiny hotel, just waiting, yes waiting, to get robbed. The cast doesn't really act—they're just having their fun. Is it entertaining? Yes. Is it good acting? No. Still Entertaining? Yes. The script, as usual, is a load of randomly placed, moronically realized garbage, yet the actors love it, and they use it to their cannon. Is it good acting now? No. Along side Soderberg's slick but uneven camera movements, slick mise-en-scene, and slick cinematography, Ocean's Thirteen still has that insouciant charm, but after the film's unexpected climax, it wears down. I suspect that the easiest comparison to the film is definitely a sugar high. Take your pick.

La Vie en Rose (2007): C-

2007-11-22T11:34:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Olivier Dahan. Screenplay: Olivier Dahan. Cast: Marion Cotillard, Sylvie Testud, Pascal Greggory, Emmanuelle Seigner, Gerard Depardieu and Clotilde Courau. Distributor: Picturehouse. Runtime: 140 min. Rating: PG-13.

Usually, biopics have a tough time balancing an adequate narrative with the life of the subject. Olivier Dahan's newest film, La Vie en Rose, is no exception to such a precedent. A hideously esoteric affair so claustrophobic in essence to the point in which you want to run out of the theater for a breath of fresh air, La Vie en Rose fails to lucidly encapsulate singer Edith Piaf's (played by Marion Cotillard) life, shamelessly taking key points in her life and ripping them to pieces through an erroneous and essentially blemished narrative; one of pure mediocrity, it jumps all over the place sans any particular raison d'etre: one day, Piaf is 6, the next day, she's 45, the next day, she's 24, and the next-next day she is dead. Piaf's life makes for an appealing premise: the girl—poor, un-cared for by her mother, and most of the time sick—suffered much when little; indeed, if anything, the film does accurately capture her suffering, but it's when Dahan starts framing certain scenes as clichés that the problems start. I don't know what the hell such a glitched narrative is of good use for, but here, it ruins everything—as Piaf grows up, she discovers her talent, then sings, gets drunk, almost gets married, is born (oh, whoops, wrong order), sings, collapses, then, as unfortunate as it may seem, dies. The film is so caught up in the fundamentals of the incoherent narrative that it leaves everything—specifically Cotillard's dazzling performance—un-cared for, also blatantly leaving you monotonously awed at the screen in desperation. Piaf's life was, indeed, tragic, but the film only lays tragedy upon tragedy, and death upon death in such a melodramatic way that all you want to do is leave. Hideously manipulated, La Vie en Rose has, for all intents and purposes, failed Piaf, as its final shot dares not evoke a tragic ending—more proof that La Vie en Rose is as commercial as French films get. And that is not, not, a good thing.

No Country for Old Men (2007): A

2007-11-18T15:45:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Joel Coen and Ethan Coen. Screenplay: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen. Cast: Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin, Woody Harrelson, Kelly Macdonald, Garret Dillahunt, Tess Harper and Barry Corbin. Distributor: Miramax Films. Runtime: 122 min. Rating: R.

Joel and Ethan Coen's superlative new film opens with sublime shots of a small Texan desert, paralleled by a Tommy Lee Jones voice-over. It's an exhilarating establishment of a story, with the each shot increasing in sunlight until the beautiful landscape is fully-lit. The camera subsequently pans to a man—a cow stunner in hand—being arrested; he gets in the cop car, and the voice-over immediately comes to a close. It is a moment of beauteous exactness, where space, time and even fear are accounted for; without a doubt, this exactness of time and space is one of the many trademarks of The Coens' No Country for Old Men—a stunning, searing masterpiece, raw and beautiful by turns. It is that rare work of art that thrills the senses and the mind, while unequivocally reaching a cinematic apex in filmmaking and storytelling.

No Country for Old Men is the first film not coming from the Coens' own material. Adapted from Cormac McCarthy's brooding, coldly written novel, the material nevertheless seems to compliment the siblings' style, with comedy, grimly original characters, and a wry script in hand; the film also undoubtedly marks their return to form, dropping the disappointing feel of The Ladykillers and continuing the exceptional neo-noir-type genre of their masterpieces Blood Simple and Fargo. (One could even say their is a hint of The Big Lebowski, particularly in its narrative backbone.) The film stars Josh Brolin as Vietnam vet Llewelyn Moss, who, while hunting in a barren desert similar to that of the opening shot, stumbles upon trouble: dead men, drugs, and two million dollars; needless to say, he runs with the money, having not a clue what is expected. Leaving his naive wife (Beth Grant), he subsequently chooses to abandon everything, in turn taking the money and running. Yet more than the police is after him; the man from the opening shot, Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) wants the money and his life, but what comes is more than cat and mouse—it's a massacre to the environment that Moss flees to. Anton is a psychopath, simply crazy, his face unforgettable—to these eyes, he could be one of the most scary villains in quite some time, representing an unstoppable inhuman force. If, then, Chigurh represents what one could call an inhuman machine, then Moss represents the exact opposite: humane. Following McCarthy's lead, this is one of the many moral themes the story represents, though I suppose this is one of the biggest, given its main connection to its title that, upon second viewing, seems explicitly lucid.

The film—and its narrative therein—is so brutishly constructed, so perfectly realized, so caught up in its nihilism that it's almost as if what is happening is real. This happens, in specificity, because of the way the Coens are able racketeer an insinuating tension throughout; they get it all right. The film reaches a cinematic nirvana because of its perfect tension—basically another element mastered by the Coens. Roger Deakins's sublime cinematography perpetuates the events on screen in a transcendent way, as his shots echo the film's austere mise-en-scene with exact precision; every empty space, every little light—it all seems to become part of the film's stark collective whole. Landscapes, motel rooms, houses—the way the film is framed also seems to exude a balance in between tranquility and brutality; as the camera tracks, at any given moment, one won't know what comes next. Yet this is one of the Coen's auteristic trademarks, and this film is no different: it's also wryly funny and cunning. This is why it's so unique, also given the film's acting. Bardem's tour-de-force is transcendently matched with McCarthy's description, and to these eyes he is creepy as hell—albeit truly unforgettable (and worthy enough to be called one of the best performances of the year). Jones, Bardem, and Brolin together finish up the film's perfection, as the camera captures each countenance in every scene with unforgettable shots. These actors have found their film.

The last quarter of the film is centered on Jones's sheriff—who is caught up in the whole thing. He is a man who no longer fathoms the extents of the universe he once lived in, as he explains how he cannot keep up with his job, or even his routine. Here, the film changes from cat and mouse to a striking moral balance, as both Moss and Chigurh's missions seem to, metaphorically, be complete. The Coen's don't blatantly dodge such a conclusion, yet it's definitely new ground for them: much like the opening shot, No Country for Old Men's finale is of the sheriff telling his wife a dream—which is, in context, a strikingly similar idea to the film's main idea that, also upon second viewing, I suspect many will oversee. But the moral is there, and it perpetuates the whole of the film itself: a triumph in every sense of the word, No Country for Old Men really ends up being not only a testament to brilliant filmmaking, but a meditation on the way society works now.

American Gangster (2007): C

2007-11-11T09:12:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Ridley Scott. Screenplay: Steven Zaillian. Cast: Denzel Washington, Russell Crowe, Josh Brolin, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Lymari Nadal, Ted Levine, Armand Assante, Cuba Gooding Jr., Carla Gugino, John Hawkes, Ruby Dee, Clarence Williams III and Idris Elba. Distributor: Universal Pictures. Runtime: 158 min. Rating: R.

That American Gangster has received a surprising amount of critic appraise does not exclude it from an overall category found around this time of the year: Oscar bait. Pas de deux acting, historical topics, famous actors—you name it. Essentially, there's no way to escape this, as director Ridley Scott's newest concoction bears all of these trademarks mixed in a 70's milieu, the ultimate result being a tumultuous yet impeccably well-designed archetype unable to escape a sudden sense of familiarity all around; in recreating an embracingly deft milieu of the 70's, however, Scott, like in Blade Runner, has found an acceptable match. Not letting back, Denzel Washington plays Frank Lucas, a criminal mastermind in terms of drugs and getting drugs—he gets his stuff straight from Thailand, this being an impetus for many people to use heroine quite more back in the 70's. Working in faux-intelligent parallelism, Scott also adds Russel Crowe's Richie Roberts to mirror Lucas's actions: both start out with nothing, ultimately crescendoing—the former in his drug money, and the latter on the investigation. More cast, in essence characters, are added, boiling the whole situation up above the norm, ultimately climaxing in a gripping shoot-out—yet again technically cool but not felt.

Without a doubt, this quality lacks throughout: however technically it succeeds, the film will never be able to escape its superficial ways and find a deeper meaning, this being American Gangster's main dilemma. Scott seems to have a certain amount of respect for both, though ultimately it's shown in, without a doubt, the film's best scene: the two men talking face to face. Respectively, the pas de deux works efficiently as usual, Washington giving a charismatic performance and Crowe adding what little he can to his do-good character. The film rests on their shoulders, as well as its vivid sense of place; yet its clunky running time also leads to narrative deficiencies throughout. However, an interesting success of the film is the way it manages to balance out Washington's performance with grimacing scenes of tension. There should be more of these; there aren't.

The Best of Cin-o-Matic: No Country for Old Men

2007-11-10T11:29:00.000-05:00

No Country for Old Men: 9.1

Well, there's no getting around it: No Country for Old Men is the most critically appraised film of the year, getting a 9.0 on cin-o-matic - higher than last year's Pan's Labyrinth; but less than Army of Shadows (9.5) and Killer of Sheep (9.8!). The former, never before released in the U.S, was my top pick for the best film of last year, and the latter, never thearatically released since 1977, is, as of now, my top pick for the best film of the year as well. Nevertheless, I approach No Country with great excitement - a review will be posted soon, as well as my ultimate thoughts on Ridley Scott's overrated American Gangster.

Terror's Advocate (2007): B

2007-11-05T15:43:00.000-05:00

Director(s): Barbet Schroeder. Cast: Jacques Vergès, Abderrahmane Benhamida, Bachir Boumaâza, Isabelle Coutant-Peyre, Lionel Duroy, Hans-Joachim Klein, Magdalena Kopp, Gilles Ménage, Anis Naccache, Siné and Martine Tigrane. Distributor: Magnolia Pictures. Runtime: 135 min. Rating: NR

Dictators. Terrorists. War Criminals—I don't know where the hell to start, except to say that Jacques Vergès has basically defended them all. Director Barbet Schroeder's new documentary centers on the man himself, a slick, even quite narcissistic defender of all, starting from iconic Algiers bomber Djamilla to Nazi war criminal Klaus Barbie, as well as Holocaust denier Roger Garaudy and famous terrorist "Carlos". "I'd even defend Bush!", he says. Respectably, the tone to match with this type of subject is slick as the man himself, and Schroeder vividly aestheticized his material by transcending a myriad of talking heads and old archival footage throughout; the film is chronologically structured, and as it goes along, it seems to luxuriate and crescendo in its rhythm. When Terror's Advocate chooses to become an unnecessarily complex political thriller, it does stray away from its primary subject; yet nevertheless, Schroeder's film is elegantly made and fascinating.

Cheers To The New Radiohead Album

2007-11-04T20:23:00.000-05:00

A salutation to the new Radiohead album -- which is definitely the best thing I've heard all year, partly because I am a huge fan but also because of the songs' transcendence; this may be a new path for Radiohead, at the same time, however, retracing precious roads. I am curious, though, to see if there'll be any music videos for any of the songs. Anyhow, below, from Youtube, is one of the songs (15 Step):

Resurrecting the Best of War Films: Terrence Malick's 1998 Masterpiece The Thin Red Line

2007-10-31T14:40:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Terrence Malick. Screenplay: Terrence Malick. Cast: Sean Penn, Ben Chaplin, Nick Nolte, Woody Harrelson, Adrian Brody, Jim Caviezel, John Cusack, Elias Koteas, John C. Reilly, George Clooney, Travis Fine. Distributor: Fox 2000. Runtime: 170 min. Rating: R.

On December 7, 1942, the world, like on many occasions during World War II, short-circuited. In an attack launched by the Japanese to so call "get the main target out of the way", 2043 men were killed and 1178 were blatantly injured. Almost immediately, The United States called for war. It was that same year, however, that the Unites States advanced to the Guadalcanal, a small island on the Solomon Islands that, a few years before this attacked, had been occupied by the Japanese. Director Terrence Malick's The Thin Red Line begins here, on the Guadalcanal, as soldiers prepare to seize the island. Full of poetic grandeur hardly seen in films anymore, both literal and with the possession of an unfathomable emotional heft, Malick's superlative masterpiece is one of the greatest anti-war films ever made, both that rare work of art that thrills the senses and the mind as well as evidence of brilliantly martyred American filmmaking.

Whereas films like Steven Speilberg's Saving Private Ryan were good in its creation, and essentially spoon-feed their audiences, The Thin Red Line differentiates the average narrative. From the first shot—an alligator, sweeping out of the water, a symbol of the death—it is clear that Malick knows how to bend poetry to his canon, an act of auteurist self-reflexivity in keeping with the director's belief in the powerful influence of history on the here and now—and history is by far Malick's favorite subject. In his recent unqualified masterwork The New World, he brought one the story of Jamestown Virginia, with Pocahontas and Smith through, yet again, visceral poetry. Whereas that sociologically and emotionally encased itself in a swirl of hallucinatory images, both unforgettable yet light in creation, The Thin Red Line forms a miasma around the viewer, also unforgettable yet compulsively watchable. Although Malick's style is the same, the director now eschews an unprecedented aesthetic development, resulting in the pinnacle of his career.

As Malick's camera scrolls around the frame, soldiers are met: the ranking officer in the fray is Lt. Colonel Tall (Nick Nolte), an aspiring Patton who's finally found his war. Under him are Captains Staros (Elias Koteas) and Gaff (John Cusack), Sgts. Keck (Woody Harrelson) and Welsh (Sean Penn). Along side them, arguably the main protagonist—the only one Malick attaches a subplot to—is Witt (James Caviezel), a young, yet austere and cynical person, both shy yet silently intelligent. In less outré hands, characters would be shamelessly studied and carved to pieces, yet Malick, in another one of his stratagems, fashions them as two-dimensional archetypes; excluding Witt, characters are not as well known as they could be. As the soldiers prepare for battle, fear eats their faces, a stark reminder that among soldiers, there is no heaven, no hell, no salvation; only war, and the existential fear of death crossed with the undeniable will to survive.

The first quarter of the film is spent spiritually analyzing fear, and it is when the Japanese launch their attack that Malick's film awakens from its miasmatically dreamy core. It's still a mesmerizing dream of a film, yet through war and suffering, Malick also finds beauty. As bloody as it is, soldiers are shot, mortally wounded and even stabbed by what the Japanese would call Banzai Charges (charges in which they would lunge with and brutally attack the enemy with their bayonets). Yet there is a difference in between what André Bazin of Cahiers du Cinema used to call "The Cinema of Cruelty". The Thin Red Line, albeit causing suffering among viewers, has an undeniable vérité outlook.

As the film progresses, a company of seven people is sent to capture a hilltop. Among these men is Witt, whom near the top, decides that alone he will go scouting. Here, Malick, like a bit before this moment, analyzes Witt; from a memory, as vivid as real life, one now sees his wife, whom, even in the darkest of times, gives him aspiration and light to continue. Yet, later in the film, Malick destroys this sentiment with news of her leaving Witt, yet another example of the mortal results of existentialisms of war. Although they are able to seize the bunker, many have been already wounded.

Many critics and audiences have a hard time with Malick's films: like Terrence Davies, he's a poet working in a medium whose audience is unused to unconventional expressions of thought and emotion. Much like his own realistic and masterfully ravishing mise-en-scène, Malick has essentially created his own genre, one of the first, besides David Lynch and Luis Buñuel, to ever do this. In this film, as well as in The New World, Malick's narrative also eschews inner monologue from the characters. His fluent screenwriting skills are, indeed, thoroughly shown through this. They, again, reveal nothing of themselves, rather revealing simple thoughts. "Who Creates this evil?" asks Witt in his own one near the end. More than anything the film is two things: a silently riveting comment against war itself, and a prime example of the auteur's atmospheric cinema, in which attention to tenor, tempo, and etherealness are placed above all other concerns. If anything, it is this aesthetic that makes Malick's films so special; it is a gift of a true, rare auteur.

Performances in The Thin Red Line are magnificent as well. As shown in Malick's still growing oeuvre, the casting is always perfect. Nick Nolte, giving yet another ferocious performance in his own personal banner year (later that year, he also starred in Affliction) joins Sean Penn, Elias Koteas and Woody Harrelson (whose death scene here is among the film's most accessible, wrenching moments) as stars who manage to emerge with strong personalities intact. In its own poetic world, The Thin Red Line is just about flawless, its editing, as well as one of the best cinematographies ever to be made in Hollywood, simply masterfully exposed.

The exquisiteness of The Thin Red Line and how it reveals itself to its audience is flabbergasting—like a flower encased in time, only to be eroded by the unmistakable and relentless path of nature. It's this purity of presentation and spirit that gives the film its universal attraction. The New World, the final shot was of a tree, unforgettably swinging, a sign of Pocahontas's spiritual and tribal end. In The Thin Red Line, it is of a weed plant, stuck in the sand, resembling something the soldiers could never do: escape and be free. With the gray clouds swinging overhead and the ocean's waves approaching the shore, one finally realizes that Malick has created one of the greatest works of his time, an appropriate sentiment for a film whose meaning—both in cinematic skill and poetry—is to likely never be forgotten.

Redacted; A. O. Scott Article: An Analysis

2007-10-29T18:05:00.000-04:00

An official selection at this year's New York Film Festival, Brian De Palma's Redacted (which I look forward to with great admiration) has been claimed as quite controversial. The film is De Palma's own self-meditative project on the war in Iraq and the way it has been told through the news, though it seems to bare a lot of consequentiality to the real. Hence, its title - “redact”: to select or adapt (as by obscuring or removing sensitive information) for publication or release.” It also seems very violent, as it ends with the rape and killing of an Iraqi girl. (It shows the faces of real people, ultimately giving the film its quasi-faux-doc aesthetic.) De Palma, who has an excellent oeuvre (my favorite being The Fury), has found himself in trouble with Magnolia Pictures – the people who will release his film – because of this aspect. A. O. Scott, who wrote the article linked below, then references the aesthetic and ethical qualities to this film; it seems as critics who mis-understand this paroxysm will easily nail it. He then analyzes the films that arise – from trash like The Kingdom to the honest In The Valley of Elah. Simply put, films about the war seem to be subconsciously infiltrating the cinema. “When filmmakers leave such touchy, serious political issues alone they tend to be scolded for complacency or cowardice. But to describe even a movie as angry and confrontational as Redacted as an exercise in finger-wagging or sloganeering is to miss the point. What is notable about this new crop of war movies is not their earnestness or their didacticism — traits many of them undoubtedly display — but rather their determination to embrace confusion, complexity and ambiguity.”, he specifies. In balancing aesthetic and ontological components, filmmakers often find themselves quite desperate, and a film who is able to do that is quite a rarity. The only one I can think of is Terrence Malick's 1999 masterpiece The Thin Red Line. He then zooms in on Rendition, a film in theaters now. He continues to mention how, ironically, while the films may have anti-Bush agenda, the do not name any particular person in office. Documentaries, such as Charles Furguson's powerful No End In Sight are actually what keenly serve as the “muckrackers” - an example can be said: Michael Moore. Scott then talks about symbolizations in film. These images – what do they mean? And so, as it comes to a close, he continues to suggest more films – such as Platoon, the excellent Vietnam film directed by Oliver Stone – and then zooms in on the futility of The Kingdom. It is simply there to entertain – there is no meaning behind it. “And this may be the lesson that filmmakers need to absorb as they think about how to deal with the current war. It’s not a melodrama or a whodunit or even a lavish epic. It’s a franchise.” Indeed.

Original Article: A War On Screen
("Redacted" image courtesy of Slant Magazine.)

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead (2007): B+

2007-10-28T21:04:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Sidney Lumet. Screenplay: Kelly Masterson. Cast: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Ethan Hawke, Albert Finney, Marisa Tomei, Rosemary Harris and Aleksa Palladino. Distributor: THINKFilm. Runtime: 117 min. Rating: R.

"May you be in heaven half an hour... before the devil knows you're dead," reads the opening title of Sidney Lumet's new film, named after the latter part of this irish toast. It refers to the brutish case of two brothers, Andy (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Hank (Ethan Hawke), who have planned to rob their sympathetic parents' jewelery store—and while I won't go as far as to reveal Before the Devil Knows You're Dead's ending, what happens after is a catastrophe, as it seems. In crafting a successful caper picture, Lumet, whose Dog Day Afternoon ranks high on one of the best New York films ever made, has done it: whether via the fraught narrative—jumping back in forth among the characters and time, ultimately adding a unique feel for the film—or brutal control of tone and atmospherics, this is a hard-boiled film. Yet masqueraded by its bestial surface, there is a certain and ambiguous message throughout: that of family. This moral tie at first is not as illustrated, but as the brothers' family joins the matter as it crescendos in irreversibility, it becomes furthermore lucid: what the hell is wrong with these people? As usual, Lumet's tight, bleak direction helps elevate what could have been an archetypal rip off to superlative level. Along with Phillip Seymour Hoffman's and Ethan Hawke's excellent acting, this is a film of startling brutality and methodicalness, told with the feeling of total conviction and some sort of incredibility.

Michael Clayton (2007): C+

2007-10-27T16:19:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Tony Gilroy. Screenplay: Tony Gilroy. Cast: George Clooney, Tom Wilkinson, Tilda Swinton, Sydney Pollack, Sean Cullen and Michael O'Keefe. Distributor: Warner Bros.. Runtime: 119 min. Rating: R.

With Michael Clayton, screenwriter turned director Tony Gilroy evokes the dashing breed of studio film more common in the 70's and 80's. A scrupulous endeavor, for sure—yet nevertheless flawed. As the title suggests, Clooney plays Michael Clayton, a "fixer" at a gigantic NYC based law firm, his partner Marty (a subdued, typical Syndey Pollack) playing main man as well as the runner. Yet the film chronicles and centers on Clooney, as he finds himself in the middle of one of the biggest cases in the law firm's history: a man (the great Tom Wilkinson), off his medication, finds himself naked and chasing around one of the primary witnesses in another case. Another firm—led by Tilda Swinton's (magnificent as usual) character—is on it as well, and from there the show is on. Formidably, Gilroy has no problem establishing a nifty tone with the film's narrative threads, but it's his decision to throw in superfluous subplots and contrived narrative structure that abates what could have been a flawless concotion. At times, surprisingly, the film looses its wonderful rhythm, but the wonderful palette of emotions—mimicked by excellent cinematography—is able to balance out to match Clooney's character. But you walk out with a grimacing sensation—satisfied but still hungry; not unlike its main character, this is a film that is smartly overcomplicated.

Vive Le Cinéma de Robert Bresson

2007-10-25T20:22:00.000-04:00

A tribute - ironically for my French Class - to one of the greatest filmmakers of all time: Robert Bresson.

Offside (2006): A-

2007-10-17T21:27:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Jafar Panahi. Screenplay: Jafar Panahi and Sahdmehr Rastin. Cast: Sima Mobarak Shahi, Safar Samandar, Shayesteh Irani, M. Kheyrabadi, Ida Sadeghi, Golnaz Farmani, Mahnaz Zabihi, Nazanin Sedighzadeh, M. Kheymeh Kabood, Mohsen Tanabandeh, Reza Farhadi and M.R. Gharadaghi. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics. Runtime: 99 min. Rating: NR.

An easy stand-out at this past year's New York Film Festival, Jafar Panahi's Offside is simple yet tough, a film who’s unlikely reflexivity is both a reason for exaltation and contemplation. Carefully accumulating and juxtaposing details to form a web of metaphors and meanings, the film chronicles a group of young women who, not allowed to enter sports events due to Iranian law, disguise themselves as boys in order to enter Tehran's Azadi Stadium to watch a World Cup qualifying match. Using a slyly complex verité aesthetic, Panahi beautifully captures the discriminatory effect of Iran's society and blatantly captures high scenes of tension to natural comedy. The film commences with a man searching for his daughter (He comes back later), then marvelously switching - much like his standard narrative - to men on a bus spotting a scared woman in the corner. The film advances, and, as predicted (Spoiler alert), she gets caught. Using hand held DV camera work and partly shot live at the game, the frame gives the film its sense of realism, which effectively, not only gives the thoughts of these women, but also a “fly-on-the-wall” like observation. The girl is put in a square like barrier with others, all begging and pleading to get out. In a brilliant vignette of the film in which a girl tries to escape by going to the bathroom, Panahi again superbly captures emotion, distrust and comedy through one beautiful long shot. Such images, although easy, illusory and figurative, strike with a rare quality. So, while Offside first creates a light-hope sentiment within, a deeper, more abstract contemplation lingering in retrospect will welcome the true riches in the film, which itself is a rarity of sorts. On such a level, and even at first site, Offside is masterful.

Killer of Sheep (1977): A

2007-10-15T14:47:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Charles Burnett. Screenplay: Charles Burnett. Cast: Henry G. Sanders, Kaycee Moore, Charles Bracy, Angela Burnett, Eugene Cherry and Jack Drummond. Distributor: Milestone Film. Runtime: 83 min. Year: R

Around the seventies, when films like Annie Hall, Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Saturday Night Fever ruled the age, Charles Burnett silently crafted Killer of Sheep, his thesis film for UCLA. Thirty years it has eluded us—that is, until now. The result, although aging those thirty-years, is a masterpiece; an authentic and one of a kind piece of raw American poetry that simply and silently observes life in the Watts ghetto of Los Angeles.

An unshakable and insightful study of citizens living right above the poverty level, Killer of Sheep is both open-ended and observatory. The magnificent fly-on-the-wall observes the life of a slaughterhouse worker, Stan (Henry Gayle Sanders), who grapples daily with poverty, misbehaving children, and the allure of violence. Stan is a simple guy, diligent, smart, and fatigued. He has a family including two kids, both entirely the opposite of the other. Stan's daughter (Angela Burnett, the director’s child—one of the most preternaturally talented performers I have ever seen) is the playful and learning type, while the other—his son—is never home, discourteous, and always getting himself into trouble. The characterization in Killer of Sheep is both extraordinarily untouched, but it is meticulously observed and felt; every single character—although not all are important—has an underlying purpose and reason for being where they are.

The camera work in Killer of Sheep, much like the film itself, is perfect, like if one could be observing the town through his/her DV camcorder. Shooting in 16 millimeter and operating it himself, Burnett's camera observes everything, and is seemingly everywhere. Everything is important too, because every close-up and tracking shot only brings us closer to the undistinguished characters themselves; the more the camera observes, the more one feels closer to them.

Burnett shot Killer of Sheep over a series of weekends on a shoestring budget of just under $20,000, using friends and relatives as actors. This needn't be a reason to demean the film; if anything, one must take it as a sheer pleasure: the acting of his family members essentially makes the film beautiful sans outside reason, making it truly fathomable. Yet again, Burnett's camera simply observes; much like the Italian neo-realism age, Killer of Sheep's milieu speaks for itself—one could even call it American neo-realism.

At its core, Killer of Sheep is masterfully comprised of evident economic denial, hidden desire, and pure living; in other words: untainted life. There are many scenes in Killer of Sheep that demonstrate this; the most memorable demonstrating the cruelty of Stan's son towards his sister: while Stan drinks coffee at his table with a neighbor, his son aggressively asks his daughter where his bee-bee gun is. The daughter, wearing an unforgettable dog mask, shrugs. The response from the brother is, of course, hurting her. Stan gets up and starts chasing the son; he's already out the door.

In 1990, Burnett's opus magnum was declared a national treasure by Congress. 17 years later, it has finally gotten a spot on the big screen, a DVD release date also due for later in the year. Easily one of the finest observational films ever made, Killer of Sheep more than lives up to its official designation as a national treasure: it lives up to life itself.

Into Great Silence (2005): A

2007-10-15T14:39:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Philip Gröning. Screenplay: Philip Gröning. Cast: The Carthusian Order of Monks of the Grande Chartreuse. Distributor:Runtime: 162 min. Rating: NR. Distributor: Zeitgeist Films.

In 1984, novice filmmaker Philip Gröning asked the Carthusian monks of the Grand Chartreuse if he could film them. They said it was too soon, and thus, 16 years later, Gröning received a call: they were ready. A sublime mix of transcendence and cinéma vérité, the result, Into Great Silence, is a masterful trip inside the monastery, a 162 minute voyage that spellbinds, entrances, and makes you become one with the film itself.

Filming by himself on hi-definition video and Super 8 for only a few hours a day, using only available light and sound, Gröning was required to live and work among the monks, both observing them and becoming one with them. He structures the film in an unscathed and natural way, both accurately capturing the monks’ daily routines yet also flowing by seasons. Each season has its own pleasures, which range from the playful walks of the monks in spring and summer to the moody yet harmonious mise-en-scene of the winter. Sublime to its very hushed core, Into Great Silence does take some getting used to, specifically because the monks hardly utter a word; the beginning of the film is a four minute opening shot of a monk praying in his solitary room. It is after this, however, that the film resembles true life itself: rarely have documentaries portrayed such an unhurried sense of time, yet all of the film passes faster than you wish it to, each minute counting to the very last.

Gröning's masterful shots of the Grand Chartreuse are let alone one reason that elates the film, yet more than a placed and planned camera, the shots almost resemble spying. It is undeniably true, as weird as it may sound, that the monks have gotten used to the camera. Months go on, and they blatantly ignore it, which only goes for the better. In what follows, Gröning takes us through more than just the random praying of the monks, but also of them playing (there's a scene of the monks going sledding), cooking, eating and sewing, all daily activities of the monks (excluding the playing aspect.)

One need not be religious, or even agree with the existence of god and the fact of locking oneself in a monastery, to enjoy a film of this caliber. Nevertheless, Gröning has created a film of its kind: the type that will keep you thinking and enjoying its quiet pleasures—only through simple images—for a long time, yet also one that could gratify film lovers without a limit to its quiet sense of aptness.

The Dream-like Versus Reality

2007-10-12T21:54:00.000-04:00

The Beacon Theater, October 10 -- I found myself, with a friend, at the hands of dreamily unforgettable musical experience: PJ Harvey live. As she played her classic songs from Dry, Rid Of Me, and more, that strong, blatantly emotional Harvey was there; yet what I did not expect was that ability to contrast that with her newest masterpiece, White Chalk. It was a mesmerizingly surreal contrast of old and new, dark and light; it seemed the only breather was among each song. A whole new side was revealed. (Slant Magazine's article on the concert, by Sal Cinquemani, is definitely meant for a great read. Also on the forum, you'll find my comments and more.)

In the "real world", below there's a review for 12:08 East of Bucharest, one of the greatest releases of the year so far. Soon, after this heavy amount of school work, a review for the abortion documentary Lake of Fire as well as that culminant New York Film Festival article will appear.

12:08 East of Bucharest (2007): A-

2007-10-12T14:36:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Corneliu Porumboiu. Screenplay: Corneliu Porumboiu. Cast: Mircea Andreescu, Teo Corban and Ion Sapdaru. Distributor: Tartan Films. Runtime: Rating: NR.

Winner of the Camera D'or at the 2006 Cannes Film Festival, Corneliu Porumboiu's first feature, 12:08 East of Bucharest is, furthermore, proof of Romania's budding as a cinematic powerhouse; it ranks among The Death of Mr. Lazarescu as one of the finest films the country is yet to release so far—and much more is on its way, including Cristian Mungiu's 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days, which won the Palme D'or at this year's Cannes Film Festival. A superficially light affair that is sly, light and wry in essence, 12:08 East of Bucharest gains heft as it goes along, willfully possessing a cachéd wit. The film starts with various establishing shots of Vaslui, a small, calm Romanian town only waiting for trouble. It is after this, that one meets the egotistical local talk show host named Jderescu (Teo Corban), who, after all his primary guests canceled, is forced to invite Manescu, a seemingly innocent drunk (Ion Sapdaru) and Piscoci (Mircea Andreescu), a wise, sympathetic yet kid looking old man who is wittier than the whole town, to answer one question: was there, or was there not, a revolution—against Ceausescu's communist regime—on December 22? A film in which everything is cannily significant of something yet does not over do or blatantly dramatize everything, 12:08 East of Bucharest is a simply told gem, characterized by wise humor told through extremely well developed characters; it's also the type of film that gains steam as it goes along: its opening, much like Gus Van Sant's recently seen Last Days, is often frustrating, yet it's there for a purpose; it establishes issues of race, town-issues, characters, and most of all, Porumboiu's perfectly realized aesthetic.

Half way through the film—when the men blabber on the talk show—is when the acuity begins: as the men discuss the question, they start to contradict eachother; callers complain about whether or not the truth is being told; Pisosci drifts away, both in talk and wit; Manescu threatens to leave the show; Jderescu's egotism almost costs him his reputation—and all of these, as hilarious as it is, are perpetuated by the amateur cameraman who fails to competently use his three tripod-aided set-ups. Porumboiu uses all of this to his cannon, ultimately brining hilarity to a new level.

An embarrassment of riches that ranks among the year's best so far, 12:08 East of Bucharest is a masterful trifle that uses hilarity perpetuated by unmistakable pathos to a superlative level. Ending on a deeply resonant tone, 12:08 East of Bucharest's final shot is exactly where it commenced—just another piece of brilliance for a film already overwhelmed by such an aspect.

Rated R

2007-10-06T23:33:00.001-04:00

Not even a week of blogging and already an "R" Rating. I think I might have said hell too many times; or was it death? -- oh well. Screw you, justsayhi.

In other news, Below, a film also rated R, you'll find a review for In the Valley of Elah, Paul Haggis' newest film.

In the Valley of Elah (2007): C

2007-10-06T21:47:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Paul Haggis. Screenplay: Paul Haggis. Cast: Tommy Lee Jones, Charlize Theron, Susan Sarandon, Jason Patric, James Franco, Josh Brolin, Jonathan Tucker, Rick Gonzalez, Francis Fisher, Barry Corbin, Brad William Henke, Wayne Duvall and Brent Briscoe. Distributor: Warner Independent Pictures. Runtime: 117 min. Rating: R.

Paul Haggis continues his chaotic style of filmmaking with In The Valley of Elah, a well-intentioned but lopsidedly and dully aestheticized tale "loosely" based on true events (really a 2004 Playboy piece). At least one thing is for sure: this film surely beats the hell out of Crash, which can now definitely be considered as almost a complete failure in the director's primary conceptions, as well as filmmaking in general. Yet while Elah is definitely proof of some sort of progression in Haggis' narrative style, the film still critically suffers many of the same elements as Crash; simply put, unfound is the ability to tell a story sans any sort of lame pretensions or superfluous subplots, as well as archetypal characters. Yet timeliness does come to its cannon: what it does have to say about Iraq, it says it clearly and with conviction, proof of progression in administering the director's politics in with the whole mess. Essentially, the film stars Tommy Lee Jones as Hank Deerfield, a retired Army sergeant and Vietnam veteran looking for his son, fresh out of Iraq, who has randomly and mysteriously disappeared. As usual, Haggis is able to characterize him adequately, but he never rises from the level of a predictable, contrived cliché. With the help of local policeman—or shall I say, policewoman—Emily Sanders (Charlize Theron), the two go on a quest to find who killed Deerfield's son as well as the reason. As usual, the narrative is littered with unnecessary and stupid contrivances, that not only lag the film down but also dilapidate the film's opening warmth; yet it never reaches the zero level as Haggis did with Crash. But I can't help but wonder, especially as the last shot of the film is put into motion: is there really a necessity of adding on this faux sense of emotion and random parallelism among the characters? Must is also be necessary to throw in a subplot involving Emily and how she got her job? No. The film is critically stricken by these aspects.

By chance, Haggis has assembled one hell of a cast, including the pensive, masterful Tommy Lee Jones; that poetry that the film lacks, the few shards of brilliance that the film is able to conjure—it's all him. Along with the solemnly typical Charlize Theron, these two are the foundations of the film, and you can thank god for it. Jones is also to be found in the new Coen Brothers film, No Country for Old Men, which opened tonight at The 45th New York Film Festival; both films are the start of the fall season, and here's to hope that No Country will at least have those old people at the academy more entertained than Elah.

Review Overload/Cin-o-matic

2007-10-05T21:11:00.000-04:00

Given that you can already see the same logo on one of the bars on the left, I think it's no longer necessary to share my opinion: that it is the best damn movie site on the web. (Better than Yahoo, Metacritic and etc...) As an editor of the site, I simply just like to pass it around and have people, at the very least, just give it a look; people often underrate it via the fact that "it only started in 2004" or other similarly idiotic reasonings. Anyway, enjoy!

(And below you'll find somewhat of a review overload of both films just on DVD and films still somewhat in theaters.)

The Valet (2006): C-

2007-10-05T21:07:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Francis Veber. Screenplay: Francis Veber. Cast: Gad Elmaleh, Alice Taglioni, Daniel Auteuil, Kristin Scott Thomas, Richard Berry, Virginie Ledoyen, Dany Boon, Michel Jonasz, Michel Aumont, Laurent Gamelon, Patrick Mille, Michèle Garcia and Philippe Magnan. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics. Runtime: 83 min. Rating: PG-13.

The Valet lamentably trembles in the shadow of this year's Avenue Montaigne. Both exude an immeasurable amount of pretentiousness that lead up to the each film's demise. Whereas the latter was about following the pathways of love, this one is about uncovering them, as the film's main narrative follows François (Gad Elmaleh), a valet at a shmancy-dancy restaurant, and his journey of ill-fated luck. It all starts when industrialist Pierre (Daniel Auteuil) is photographed with his longtime mistress, fashion-plate Elena (Alice Taglioni); he covers his ass by telling his wife (Kristin Scott Thomas) that the gorgeous blonde was not with him but with the passerby next to them in the tabloid snapshot, that person being François. Aesthetically, The Valet evokes not a single shard of brilliance—everything in the film is blown up to a matter of acute pretension, from the overheated spy-like music to predictable comedic sequences that in the end, muster not a single laugh. Much like Avenue Montaigne, the film lacks nuance, something that brings back the feeling of Hollywood once again. And what the hell is up with that ending? Does one really need yet another laugh?

Day Night Day Night (2006): C-

2007-10-05T21:03:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Julia Loktev. Screenplay: Julia Loktev. Cast: Luisa Williams, Josh P. Weinstein, Gareth Saxe, Nyambi Nyambi, Frank Dattolo, Annemarie Lawless, Tschi-hun Kim, Richard Morant, Jennifer Camilo, Rosemary Apolinaris, Jennifer Restrepo and Julissa Perez. Distributor: IFC Films. Runtime: 94 min. Rating: NR.

An official selection at this past New Directors/New Films, Day Night Day Night, directed by NYU grad Julia Loktev, follows a young beautiful woman as she prepares for a suicide bombing in Times Square. Her name is never specified: in the credits, she is known as "She" (Luisa Williams). The first half of Loktev's film follows her in preparation: she waits for her handlers, takes a long bath, brushes her teeth twice, eats Ramen noodles, memorizes back up addresses in case anything goes wrong, and finally, she gets the bomb, seemingly loaded in a yellow back pack. Loktev neither studies anything nor acquaints us with characters: it's all experimental. Not only does this blatantly bring the film down to a superfluous level of ennui, it gives the viewer nothing to work with. Loktev's camera is also a bit of a fiasco, as she essentially just picks up the camera and shoots; this said, the film is sans any aesthetics, and this is critical. But more than anything, Loktev has taken a keen and brightly thought out idea -- especially how the viewer never finds out who, where or what She is from - and left is desperately grasping at straws.

Although Luisa Williams plays her part well, she has nothing more to work with but herself. It is, indeed, a hard role, particularly because the film is, most of the part, with out any dialogue. But as the second half of the film progresses -- as She prepares to bomb Times Square -- one can't help but ruminate: why do we need this?

Knocked Up (2007): B

2007-10-05T20:59:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Judd Apatow. Screenplay: Judd Apatow. Cast: Katherine Heigl, Seth Rogen, Paul Rudd, Leslie Mann, Jay Baruchel, Jonah Hill, Jason Segel, Martin Starr, Alan Tudyk, Kristen Wiig and Harold Ramis. Distributor: Universal Pictures. Runtime: 129 min. Rating: R.

What differentiates Knocked Up from any other rom-com hybrid is its slyness. As with The 40-Year-Old Virgin, director Judd Aptow basically takes a loser, a problem, bases the story on that. Although the idea sounds easy to mock, his formula works; and although The 40-Year-Old Virgin was a tad bit funnier, Knocked Up has more grace.

Relatability is, indeed, quite an appeal to Knocked Up's inner core, as its narrative eschews unwanted pregnancy via the story of Alison (Katherine Heigl) and Ben (Seth Rogen), a mismatched couple whose different lives are accidentally entwined by a one-night stand that results in the previously mentioned pregnancy. Via unique characters and sly comedy, Aptow, who is quite possibly making the finest comedies in Hollywood, ties aspects of maturity, avoiding trite machinations and predictable endings. As Ben - a junkie, lazy boy - prepares for the baby, Allison opts for a little connaisance among characters, which leads to some fine comedy. As the narrative continues, we meet more characters, such as Alison's strong-willed sister, Debbie (Leslie Mann), and her similarly unhappy, wisecracking husband Pete (the typically brilliant Paul Rudd). The cast, as well as Aptow's au-fait script, elate the movie beyond the norm, the product being, as evident from the opening shots, something with buoyant energy sans any particular triteness. And as Aptow's camera adequately captures tension, lament, and comedy, Knocked Up's brilliant last shot evokes a new hope for Alison and Ben.

Black Book (2006): C+

2007-10-05T20:49:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Paul Verhoeven. Screenplay: Gerard Soeteman and Paul Verhoeven. Cast: Carice van Houten, Sebastian Koch, Thom Hoffman, Halina Reijn, Waldemar Kobus, Derek de Lint, Christian Berkel. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics. Runtime: 145 min. Rating: R.

An official selection at this year's Film Comment Selects, Paul Verhoeven's Black Book can be classified (as Noel Murray of The Onion says) as one of the most fun movies ever made about how people basically suck. This is hardly an excuse for good film making, however: while the premise of Verhoeven's film is a well crafted and enticing one, it does not repay for the serious narrative deficiencies, especially when such a plot eschews and tries to balance morality with thrills.

The whole plot is based on a memory, which can be a sorry excuse for a beginning narrative: a beautiful Dutch Jew named Rachel (star-in-the-making, Carice van Houten) infiltrates Nazi HQ as part of the Dutch resistance. From there, Rachel, as the blond Ellis, plays a Mata-Hari-ish spy to seduce Gestapo chief Müntze (Sebastian Koch). Here is where the infuriatingly well-thought out conundrum starts: with twists and turns, Ellis finds herself in between both the Nazis and the resistance, only to find more culprits on both sides. Despite being voluptuously directed, the film lacks salient emotion; like only half a film is there. Near the middle of the film, Verhoeven decides to add on pretentious Hollywood-esque vignettes; the battle sequences in the film are likely to be considered similar, yet they still are well shot and portrayed.

Claiming to be a "based on true events" epic, Black Book also lacks the connaissence in the characters, who, although admirably portrayed, are not anything more than archetypes. Because the machinations of the film are somewhat conventional and move quicker than they should -- even though the film is notably long -- Verhoeven's latest lacks sentiment and provocation, something that, for the topic of resistance, can only be ruminated down to a solemnity-lacking, solely fun piece of trivial reiteration.

Blame it on Fidel (2006): B+

2007-10-05T19:32:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Julie Gavras. Screenplay: Julie Gavras and Arnaud Cathrine. Cast: Nina Kervel-Bey, Julie Depardieu, Stefano Accorsi, Benjamin Feuillet, Martine Chevallier, Olivier Perrier and Marie Kremer. Distributor: Koch Lorber Films. Runtime: 99 min. Rating: NR.

No other film at this year's annual Rendez-Vous With French Cinema managed to beautifully capture an evocation of history as much as Julie Gavras's (daughter of the legendary auter Costa Gavras) sensational film, Blame It on Fidel. Whereas overrated trash like Avenue Montaigne robbed the festival's inner core, this is the one film that truly stood out, not only for its daring ambition but its wonderful ideologies and insights; more than that, though, there's one factor that truly elates this wonderful film: its true simplicity. Gavras evokes Paris, 1970; the truly brilliant Nina Kervel plays Anna, a girl who savors living in her bourgeois ambiance; but it's when her parents, Marie (Julie Depardieu) and Fernando (Stefano Accorsi), take a trip to Chile—where Socialist politician Salvador Allende is in the process of campaigning to become the country's next president—that her life shatters: they return to Anna and her younger brother, Francois (Benjamin Feuillet), as new people, devoted to the struggle of oppressed peoples everywhere. Through Anna's naïveté, Gavras is able to bring a simple, yet extremely acute vision: the gaze of a child seeing the world, for the first time, clearly. As Anna's missing of the bourgeois life continues to the point of her about to run away, her parents only get more involved; yet just as her fathers political shattering subsides, she comes to her own. It's here when Anna respects the fact that choice is what life is made of, and she subsequently realizes that she can live in such a way. Despite a wee bit of structure problems in the beginning, Gavras's film develops to a fantastic accomplishment, whimsically and charmingly seeing Anna's and Francois's angst through wit, hilarity and grace; the script eschews such assurance that it magnificently buoys off of the characters. Funny it also is: throughout the film, she's constantly being nagged by Francois's naive questions. Narratively, such subjects fit perfectally; and though an exquisite score, graceful camera-work and lighting—a heartbreaking scene in which the news of Allende's death is magnificently aesthetized through a light-to-no-light backdrop—Gavras brings forth a superlative film; one that many will be able to connect to as well as simply feel.

Salvador Allende (2004): C

2007-10-05T14:36:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Patricio Guzmán. Screenplay: Patricio Guzmán. Distributor: First Run/Icarus Films. Runtime: 100 min. Rating: NR.

An official selection at last year's Cannes Film Festival, Salvador Allende is the real story about the famous socialist president who rose to power in the 1970's. The film's main structure is on Salvador Allende, but through out the 94 minutes, the film can get easily exasperating. Salvador Allende identifies its main points very clearly and accurately, but the way it portrays them is rather daft. The film also seems like a directors debut; many scenes are useless, and badly structured. But what saves the film is all on facts. The in-depth analysis of the real story about Salvador Allende makes the only compelling part. Some parts of the film make it a "must-see'", but I'd recommend it only because of its facts.

(This review was written way back in October of 2006, as coverage of a mini Human Rights Festival at my local art-house theater.)

Away From Her (2006): B+

2007-10-05T14:28:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Sarah Polley. Screenplay: Sarah Polley. Cast: Julie Christie, Gordon Pinsent, Michael Murphy, Olympia Dukakis, Kristen Thomson and Wendy Crewson. Distributor: Lionsgate. Runtime: 110 min. Rating: NR.

With Away from Her, actress-turned-director Sarah Polley eschews poignancy and turns it into a tacitly graceful piece of not only picturesque, but remarkable film making. The brilliant Julie Christie plays Fiona, an admirable woman who is losing her mind to Alzheimer's disease. From the beginning - three superb shots of Fiona and Grant (Gordon Pinsent) cross-country skiing: the first showing them parallel to each other, the second on divergent courses, and the third depicting them side-by-side once again - to the end, Sarah Polley will not only thoroughly study the characters and the disease itself, she will be able to put one in a position that the viewer would be able to find him or herself in. Based on the magnificent short story "The Bear Came Over The Mountain", found in an old edition of The New Yorker, the film begins with Fiona putting a newly washed pot in the freezer - evidence that what is to follow is only more of her deteriorating state. Indeed, as her condition worsens, she moves to an elderly care facility. There, she becomes involuntarily infatuated with fellow patient Aubrey (Michael Murphy), causing Grant an inexorable amount of not quite jealousy, but yearning.

The narrative, told through the eyes of Grant, is as follows: as Grant nears the home of Aubrey and his wife Marian, (a solemn Olympia Dukakis), reminiscences of Fiona ensue. It haunts Grant through the conversation with Marian, and it is only after this that the narrative is straightly told. One could argue that the narrative is fragmented, and indeed it is; yet it is done with deep intent, meant for a deep measure of self-reflexivity. This result is, undoubtedly, uniquely existential and powerful.

Julie Christie gives, indeed, the best performance of the year so far; her face and her voice are the type that stay with you for days, especially as her condition deteriorates even further. Polley was right to choose Christie, even though, at first, the actress said no. She is truly radiant, something that is really quite rare in modern-day performances. Also brilliant is how the film takes themes (such as one of Bach's Preludes and Neil Young's dreamy "Harvest Moon") and sticks them onto the film's illustrious aesthetic. In the end, Away from Her is, more than anything, a beauty; but unlike other films with relative subjects, this one is mature, its spirit: timeless.

The Cranes Are Flying (1957): A

2007-10-04T21:20:00.001-04:00

Director(s): Mikhail Kalatozov. Screenplay: Victor Rozov. Cast: Tatanya Samojlova, Aleksey Batalov,Vasili Merkuryev, Aleksandr Shvorin and Svetlana Kharitonova. Runtime: 94. Rating: NR. Runtime: 97 min.

A testament to the portrayal of the evils of war in film, as well as a richly timeless creation in post-Stalin politics filmmaking, Mikhail Kalatozov's The Cranes Are Flying is a work in which expression is thoroughly multifaceted in every aspect of filmmaking -- while breaking your heart. A woman (Tatanya Samojlova), Veronika, and her recently found true love, are brilliantly unified and illustrated via a shot of cranes. This exquisite image also comes back to haunt her: the next time they appear, the resonance of the image is shattered -- [Spoiler Alert] someone is missing. Tonal shift is key in the film, especially as Veronika's sense of dejection increases; via desolate, even tacit camera-work and mise-en-scene, Kalatozov is masterfully able to take her mood and increase it in melancholy in an insinuating matter. By the beautiful, unforgettable last sequence, you weep not for the events in her life, but to the hope that she will one day -- quite similarly to Grigori Chukhrai's 1959 masterpiece Ballad of a Soldier -- refind herself in the confines of her memory.

Film Criticism, The Man From London

2007-10-03T15:03:00.000-04:00

A few great links on if Film Criticism is truly worthless (by Paul Schrodt, over at The Stranger Song ) and Béla Tarr's latest near- masterwork, The Man From London (by Keith Uhlich over at The House Next Door):

Is Film Criticism Worthless? , By Paul Schrodt

The Man From London, By Keith Uhlich

Both links greatly express opinions on both matters, especially the former, which is an acute article that I bring up because I myself have run into such a situation. As Paul says, it's not worthless at all; even more so, I see it as an art. Keith Uhlich's article on Tarr's latest greatly expresses the film, as it truly is another near- masterwork, although not so much in the steps of both his masterpieces, Werckmeister Harmonies and Satantango.
(My take on it will also come up soon, as part of a culminant New York Film Festival article that I'm planning to do.)

Eastern Promises (2007): B+

2007-10-01T14:21:00.000-04:00

Director(s): David Cronenberg. Screenplay: Steven Knight. Cast: Viggo Mortensen, Naomi Watts, Vincent Cassel, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Sinéad Cusack and Jerzy Skolimowski. Distributor: Focus Features. Runtime:100 min.Rating: R.

Anna (Naomi Watts) stumbles across the dead body of a 14 year old Ukranian prostitute; as her conscience pecks at her to find out exactly who is responsible, she takes it upon herself to crack the case—and sooner or later, in typical Cronenbergian fashion, characters—including Nikolai, played by he fantastic Viggo Mortensen—deadly secrets, and insidious doings are uncovered. Throughout the film, hints of his masterpiece A History of Violence are mimicked, particularly in tone and tension; as usual, there's this whole creepy and perfectly realized mood that more than efficiently perpetuates the fine acting with the causticly stark narrative. Gradually escalating it progresses (climaxing with naked Viggo fight scene, which is pure mastery; it unfolds in almost real time, and you can even feel the death just as in the last sequence in Violence), Eastern Promises is, furthermore, proof that Cronenberg is one hell of a director; it is an enthralling and hellish film, as well as an unforgettable one.

Once (2006): A

2007-09-30T19:47:00.000-04:00

Director(s): John Carney. Screenplay: John Carney. Cast: Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová. Distributor: Fox Searchlight Pictures. Runtime: 85 min. Rating: NR.

To deny the pleasures of director John Carney's soaringly sublime, impetuous Once is to not only deny oneself of an absolutely divine film, but a simple ambiance—filled with music, compassion and delectation—to escape to. Once plays out, though it may be a bit premature to say so (to me at least), as the finest romantic musical I've ever seen—a film constituted by fine characters, warmheartedly brilliant songs, and the catharsis of the characters. For the first, and maybe the only, time this year, one can finally derive sheer cinematic pleasure from a film—one can finally feel safe in the character's songs, emotions, and actions. Indeed, in all honestly, the work done in Once is that of true sortilege; even at first sight, the film is such a small miracle that it torpedoes anyone's initial misgivings within seconds. How many films can do that?

Screw Once's generic title, as well as its hijacked tagline. The film is as loyal to its primary country and source as they come. Its unpretentiousness is also clearly visible at first sight: the film truly has nothing to prove—even Carney has said so—yet such ideology is what ultimately aids the film. Without any hesitance, coyness, and pretentiousness, Glen Hansard plays the guy and—also without any hesitance—Marketa Irglova plays the girl. Proof of the point illustrated above is exactly this: they don't even have names in the credits. (Who needs them, anyway?) The sweet son of a dying vacuum repair man, the guy, while earnestly trying to make a living as a guitar player, meets the girl on a street in Dublin. From there, their friendship picks up almost immediately, as he now now discovers her skills as a singer and a piano player. Narrative wise, one ought to think, at first site, that such a simple, clichéd narrative would fall on contrivances; yet with a firm, keen, and undeniably opulent grip, the young Irish director is able to masterfully pull it off, taking scenes and overflowing them with lusciousness: from script, to its perfect video-shot aesthetic, every scene that ought to be contrived is not, and every scene that is not contrived breathes with a pulse of pure and picturesque originality. Also shot with compulsory, often brilliant feel of the French New Wave (Umbrellas of Cherbourg, anyone?), Once is so pitch perfect in the realization of its characters that, much like the rest of its perfect whole, one could even think it's a dream.

Music also plays a supremely important part in Once's tone. Carney recognizes these songs not as random, ludicrous obligations, but as a way for characters to let their feelings go away from themselves—essentially, a catharsis. Indeed, music is not forced, but when it comes, one can feel him/herself soaring in the magic of the film. As music continues to drive the guy and the girl further along, one now learns about their lives: she's married, and has a very cute daughter and he, after his ex-girlfriend moved out, is of to London to his ex. While I won't give away and ruin more narrative, I will say this: although Once's initial misgivings about it suggest more cliché, the narrative (as well as the script) eschews such poignant new trails that such clichés are washed out; in simple terms, it's flawless.

This said, the end of the film comes like an enthusiastic, yet extremely heartbreaking blow: emotionally satisfying, because one lingers in the feelings of the characters, but sad, not film wise, because of their parting. Essentially, as Ella Taylor magnificently puts it, "you come out of it not wanting to switch on your car radio, make small talk or do anything but shelter in its beguiling ambiance for as long as you can to avoid re-entering the real world. " How often can one find such films as these? How often can such films manage to create such an emotional release inside? How often does one see such a film as this one? Once.

Exiled (2006): B

2007-09-30T19:38:00.000-04:00

Director(s): Johnnie To. Screenplay: Szeto Kam Yuen and Yip Tin Shing. Cast: Anthony Wong, Francis Ng, Nick Cheung, Josie Ho, Roy Cheung, Lam Suet, Richie Jen, Simon Yam, Lam Ka Tung, Cheung Siu Fai, Tam Ping Man, Hui Siu Hung and Ellen Chan. Distributor: Magnolia Pictures. Runtime: 100 min. Rating: NR.

In retrospect, the films of Johnnie To—or of any director working in such a medium—can be easily diminished to nothings. Many people will bash these films for a lack of any sort of coherent narrative entity and the fact that visuals seem to be first priority. But this is precisely what To's films are all about: typical gangster, even senseless, narrative coupled with masterful visuals and ubiquitous slickness. By diminishing his films, one is basically diminishing a subsequent genre known as the western—and To's newest concotion, Exiled, is no less that than any other type of western out now. A glorious, wondrously effectual film that's smashingly relaxed and presented, his new film takes place in Macao, as two mysterious Gang Members—Blaze (Anthony Wong) Tai (Francis Ng), we later learn—arrive at a home to kill a once-member of their gang, Wo (Nick Cheung). The beautiful yet immediately austere sequence leads to a stunning shoot out scene—an aspect that the viewer will clearly return to throughout the film. Wo later is to rejoin the gang, as a new pair of enemies haunts them: Boss Fay's (Simon Yam) men. Breathtaking scenes overlap one another with To's perfect realization of the characters—and not to mention the true mastery behind the film, its cinematography. Quite frankly, in these types of films, photography does not get much better then this. (With the glide-cam and dollie, To is able to, without any doubt, administer a certain tone to the film—one that's almost pitch-perfect in the western genre.) To's characters are also marvelous, as each possesses a wry personality; by the film's ending—albeit ridiculously and excessively cool—one senses what is the outcome and what they must do. It is also by the film's ending that one realizes something that the completely awful The Departed was unable to do: transport the viewer to a world only existential in that of film.

The 45th New York Film Festival: Take 1

2007-09-30T17:36:00.001-04:00

Well, it's going on now (though tickets are also now pretty scarce):

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days
Cristian Mungiu, Romania, 2007; 113m

Actresses
Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, France, 2007; 107m

Alexandra
Alexander Sokurov, Russia, 92m

The Axe in the Attic
Ed Pincus & Lucia Small, US, 2007; 110m

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead
Sidney Lumet, US, 2007, 117m

Blade Runner: The Definitive Cut
Ridley Scott, US, 1982/2007; 118m

Calle Santa Fe
Carmen Castillo, Chile/France/Belgium, 2007; 163m

The Darjeeling Limited
Opening Night
Wes Anderson, US, 2007; 91m

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Julian Schnabel, France/US, 2007; 112m

Flight of the Red Balloon
Hou Hsiao-hsien, France, 2007; 113m

A Girl Cut In Two
Claude Chabrol, France, 2007; 115m

Go Go Tales
Abel Ferrara, US, 2007; 96m

I Just Didn't Do It
Masayuki Suo, Japan, 2007; 143m

I'm Not There
Todd Haynes, US, 2007; 136m

In the City of Sylvia
Jose Luis Guerin, Spain/France, 2007; 90m

The Last Mistress
Catherine Breillat, France, 2007; 114m

The Man From London
Béla Tarr, Hungary/France/Germany, 2007; 135m

Margot at the Wedding
Noah Baumbach, US, 2007; 93m

Married Life
Ira Sachs, USA, 2007; 90m

Mr. Warmth, The Don Rickles Project
John Landis, US, 2007; 89m

No Country for Old Men
Centerpiece
Joel and Ethan Coen, US, 2007; 122m

The Orphanage
Juan Antonio Bayona, Spain, 100m

Paranoid Park
Gus Van Sant, US, 2007; 85m

Persepolis
Closing Night
Marjane Satrapi & Vincent Paronnaud, France, 2007; 95m

Redacted
Brian De Palma, US, 2007; 110m

The Romance of Astreé and Céladon
Eric Rohmer, France, 2007; 109m

Secret Sunshine
Lee Chang-dong, South Korea, 2007; 142m

Stellet Licht (Silent Light)
Carlos Reygadas, Mexico/France/The Netherlands, 2007; 130m

Useless
Jia Zhangke, Hong Kong, 2007; 80m

Once the fest is over, get my take on the ones I've seen or will see, as well as general commentary on the rest.