Cinemathematics

On Beauty In Cinema

2009-08-25T08:07:00.005-04:00

I'm a sucker for a beautiful image. I'll often overlook problems others see in a film if there's one image that sticks out as truly beautiful to me. That was the overpowering force that led me to love The Curious Case of Benjamin Button so much more than all those people whose opinion I often agree with (see this take on the film). It doesn't even have to be a particularly ambitious or grandiose shot to take my breath away. In Benjamin Button, it was Tilda Swinton's face. There is a scene in Button where Brad Pitt and Tilda Swinton are about to consummate their affair. They take the elevator up to her floor. In this midst of this sequence, there is a shot of Tilda's face, the brim of her hat barely peeking into the frame. The shadow of the brim covers her entire face. It's the sort of sublime close-up that is just rarely seen. From that moment on, I couldn't say I disliked the film.

It is with this perspective that I ended up drooling all over Duplicity. You would think this should come as no surprise to those familiar with the works of Academy Award Winning Cinematographer Robert Elswit. This is the man who photographed each of Paul Thomas Anderson's films, as well as Syriana and Good Night, and Good Luck. His previous work with director Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton, earned Gilroy and Academy Award Nomination. Though everyone remembers that final shot, with Clooney in the cab driving nowhere as the credits roll, there was another image that struck me. A board room. A few men enter from the right. It seems simple, but that sort of shot is entirely about compositions, angles, and the proper use of space. In most films, that would be a throwaway shot, one not worth working on. Here, it becomes a work of art, another morsel to tantalize the viewers who are truly willing to see it. Most people will not notice it, distracted as they are with the mechanics of the plot of yet another legal thriller. But that image is still there.

If there's one scene that perfectly exhibits what this film is about, it is the opening credits. Two private planes land at a private airport in the rain. The passengers of each plane climb down the stairways, until the two important people exit the plane. You know they're the important people because they're Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson. And as the credits begin to appear on the screen, these two Academy Award nominees begin to fight each other. This wrestling match is presented in slow motion, making this battle a ballet. You wonder at the beauty of these bodies flying through the air, the faces so extraordinarily stretched for comic effect. This is not a movie you should not take seriously. It is something you can sit back and enjoy, because you know you are in good hands. The ballet is rendered with such precision for the facial expressions and the portions of the screen left blank that you cannot help but stare in joyous wonder.

As you may have noticed by looking at a calendar, it is 2009. As you may have noticed by reading any number of film blogs on this here internet, that means it's been 70 years since the glory year of 1939. Of course, this gives us the opportunity to look down our noses at the modern film industry. The film industry we see in 2009 is nothing like it was 70 years ago, for better or for worse. The one constant in discussions of the old days is how great directors worked within the studio system to put their own individual marks on films with stars. In this way, Duplicity is quite possibly the closest we can get to the 30s. Gilroy and Elswit certainly know how to craft an image, and Julia Roberts and Clive Owen bring as much charm as they can manage to a light and breezy script. Forget the simplistically complex plot structure -- I need to give immense credit to Gilroy for stylistically separating each time period and storyline so easily and recognizably -- for just one second. This is a film more about the moment than anything else. As Odienator so perfectly stated about Ocean's 13, this is a film you should go to so you can have a good time. I think that was what did it in. People went in expecting a plot. The plot is there to adorn scenes of Julia Roberts in an American flag bikini and lines about how they finally managed to freeze pineapple for your pizza. The plot probably falls apart when you think about it too much, but I was too distracted to really think about it.

This is not a movie that asks you to shut your brain off. Despite what I said above, the film still asks you to think about what is going on in every scene and how it relates to everything else we've seen. The dialogue is amazingly witty, and I don't know if I've said enough about how this film engages your eyes before all else. But the film still works on multiple levels. You can focus on the images, the plot, or the dialogue. Whatever you want, this film has got it. This is the film I was waiting for all spring, and it's the film I never got this summer. It's a rare breed of film, one that shouldn't be lost to the discount rack of your local Best Buy.

M. Tati's Holiday

2009-07-13T21:04:00.005-04:00

I don't love M. Hulot's Holiday. I guess I like it. As far as comedies go, I've seen better. Maybe that is because it's just not my style. The slapstick is much more subdued than I've seen in any other movie. Without much of a non-diegetic score or dialogue, comedy moments just happen. Nor does the comedy really escalate. Gags never pile to create a greater comic effect. Hulot's car may be a bucket of bolts, but that never goes anywhere. Hulot may be a wunderkind at tennis, but it never goes anywhere after the original set up. Nevertheless, the film is truly wonderful and worthy of awe at every moment.

The most obviously noteworthy element of M. Hulot's Holiday is its sound effects. Like Chaplin before him, Tati knows the value of sounds when there is little dialogue. Hulot's car wouldn't be funny if it weren't for the puttering pops that erupt from the vehicle. The blaring noises from Hulot's record player and the wind coming from outside the hotel serve to comically annoy the normal guests at the hotel. Even the boinging sound of the door swinging in the dining room serves to comically underline every scene in the dining room. But sounds are hardly the only element of the film that deserves praise.

Immense credit for this film should go to cinematographers Jacques Mercanton and Jean Mousselle and (uncredited) editors Suzanne Baron, Charles Bretoneiche and Jacques Grassi. One of the primary visual devices involves multiple layers of action. One person is in the foreground, and something unrelated goes on in the background. This serves to teach the viewer how to watch this movie; every inch of the frame has something worth seeing. In fact, this film serves as a wonderful education to the young cinephile as to how to watch films. Everything is worth noting, and repeat viewings will invariably lead to the revelation of previously unnoticed details. But the cinematography would be merely a pleasant distraction without the brilliance of the editing.

Editing is supposed to bridge gaps. Good editing will create connections. In The Testament of Dr. Mabuse, Fritz Lang combined sound with editing to make connections between the criminals and police. Here, Tati uses his chief cinematographic trick to transition between characters. Scenes on the beach transition to scenes in the dining room by presenting the audience with a shot of a couple in the dining room looking out their window at the action on the beach. Suddenly, the characters in the foreground have become the characters in the background, which gets at one of the major themes in the film: we're all part of the community. This idea is best presented in one great cut.

The first shot is of a man drying himself off. A beautiful girl walks past him, and he stares. His wife calls to him, but he doesn't respond. In one shot, Tati has set up and executed a wonderful little joke. There is no cut to the wife and her frustration. Only the man watching this girl. The cut is to a God's-eye view of the beach. The girl enters from the lower right side of the frame, but she is just one element among everyone else at the beach. That joke was merely one bit of humanity among a massive group of such interactions. The film may be titled Mr. Hulot's Holiday, but it's really about everyone at that beach resort.

Mr. Hulot's Holiday is one of the best examples of pure, plotless but beautiful and well-constructed filmmaking. Without a plot to distract the viewer, one can soak in the precision and beauty of the cinematography, editing, and sound design. If I were trying to introduce someone to the art of filmmaking, this would be one of the earliest films to teach them about the power of editing and how cinematography can blend with editing to create a rich tapestry of film. I just wish the film were funnier.

For a more modern take off on the character of Mr. Hulot, I present this:

He may not be as good at editing, but he gets the laughs in.

Sundae Monday's Summer Just Got a Whole Lot Better

2009-06-02T16:06:00.004-04:00

With the summer upon us, I have a lot of time on my hands. Fortunately, to fill a tiny part of that time, David Lynch has returned to us. Though he is not the actual director of this series (those would be David's son Austin Lynch and the mysterious Jason S.), Lynch's name and fingerprints are all over INTERVIEW PROJECT. Every three days for the next year, there will be a new video available at the above website. Each video will feature three or four minutes of an interview with a random person that was made on a cross country journey. Having only seen the video below, I think it falls perfectly in line with The Straight Story, Twin Peaks, and Wild at Heart in presenting Lynch's fascination with America with a capital-A. He has been focusing more on Hollywood lately, but he always seems to return to the world outside of his Inland Empire to examine where our country is. Where the project goes from here, and what sort of message, if any, we can take away from this, I can't begin to guess. Though the website has the higher quality video, it will also be available on YouTube. This is Episode 1: Jess

Sundae Tombday

2009-03-24T13:04:00.002-04:00

Before I get into any shenanigans today, I want to point out a wonderful website for those of you who don't like your favorite videos being pulled from YouTube for copyright infringement. YouTomb is a searchable database provided by MIT cataloging every video that has been pulled from YouTube. It is an impressive piece of work, and they keep a blog for various findings, such as Warner Music Group's recent rampage through the internet. This is definitely worth checking out. And now, for no particular reason...

In Praise of Season 3

2009-03-16T10:53:00.003-04:00

This is supposed to be a movie blog, but nothing's really happening in the film world, and this is too big to pass up.

It may not have the best line of dialogue -- Starbuck's "Bitch took my ride" from Season Two's "Scattered" -- or the best episode -- still for my money Season One's "33" -- but Season Three of Battlestar Galactica still holds up as the best of the show's four seasons. It gives us an entirely new perspective on the universe we have been watching for two seasons. It opens with one of the series best plot arcs, and it concludes with a pair of revelations that put major parts of the series in a whole new perspective. In between these we finally get to see how the other half lives. This was a season to expand the universe we knew, and at the same time it gave us some of the show's most memorable moments.

Admittedly, Season Three has two definite clunkers -- "Hero" and "The Woman King" -- but even those have something to offer the series. "Hero" reminds us of some of Admiral Adama's worst moments, foreshadowing Lee's impassioned speech in defense of Gaius Baltar in the season finale "Crossroads: Part 2". "The Woman King" reminds us that these people come from twelve separate planets and that these people still discriminate. Throughout the series, we have been given brief glimpses into the sort of people from each planet -- people from Geminon are more inherently religious, people from Saggitaron refuse normal medication. "The Woman King" reminds us that the world outside of the major characters features the same sort of discrimination that still exists in our own world. This theme is revisited in "Dirty Hands," when Baltar reveals that he changed his accent to hide the fact that he was from Aerelon. There has always been overt hostility to the Cylons, as best represented by the mutiny arc of Season Two, but the discrimination between people from different colonies is rarely represented. This part of the fleet could only emerge in Season Three.

Season Three also seems to know what to do with Baltar better than any other season. Baltar began the series as a womanizing self-centered bastard, something which essentially continued until he was elected President at the end of the fleet. The first half of Season Three sees him as a prisoner of the Cylons, while the second half keeps him as a prisoner, but this time of Humans. The first half of the season allows Baltar to serve as a filter, allowing the audience access to the Cylons and their way of life. Baltar is not a character who does anything but observe. During the second half of the season, Baltar's storyline returns its focus to the all-important Baltar. As a prisoner, Baltar begins to get sympathy from various people in the fleet. He begins to become some sort of combination of Karl Marx and Adolf Hitler (or Martin Luther King Jr, if you want your prison writings in a less controversial style). He begins to change. It's almost as if all the bizarre and terrible things forced upon him over the course of Season Three forced him to better himself. Of course, this all comes crashing down in Season Four, but we can still dream in Season Three.

Season Three is the season that fills out the characters that we thought we knew so well. Some characters, like Karl "Helo" Agathon, will never change, and some, like Caprica Six, change so far in the background that we don't notice until their arc is almost through. Caprica Six, in particular, seems to have little purpose recently except to show how much Baltar hasn't grown. However, the major characters of a television series traditionally go through changes, especially on a show about the end of humanity. Episodes like "Unfinished Business" give us a way of actually seeing important moments that create these changes. The will-they-or-won't-they romance between Lee Adama and Kara Thrace was finally consummated in a flashback. In a later flashback, Kara has married Samuel Anders, giving us an actual reason to care that he is a Cylon (what kind of relationship happens between a secret Cylon and a woman who just came back from the dead?) as well as giving us a deep look into the character of Kara Thrace. These sorts of major character moments appear throughout the show, but in Season Three, these moments come to the forefront, giving the feeling of a much expanded universe.

The New Caprica arc is often cited as the series at its best; it features the unparalleled special effects work of "Exodus: Part 2", and it allows the viewer to draw easy comparisons with modern day issues. It was the show at its most relevant, before it burrowed back into its own mythology. Battlestar Galactica has always been more than a simple sci-fi show. The miniseries features a monologue by Admiral Adama questioning whether or not the human race deserves to go on living. Of course, this is quickly put to the test, and the show continues probing difficult philosophical and practical questions. The arrival of the Battlestar Pegasus in Season Two provides a stark contrast with Galactica's humanitarian view of the universe; Pegasus stripped civilian ships of their usable parts so that Pegasus was better equipped to fight the Cylons. Season Three gave the most prevalent relevance to modern society, but it also featured the end to the relevance.

Season Three of Battlestar Galactica presented the biggest step forward in the overarching plot up to that point. The discovery of New Caprica led to an interesting arc, but it ended at the same place it started. The revelation of four previously unknown Cylons placed things in a different light. The beginning of Season Two featured Colonel Tigh taking over the fleet, which looks very weird with the knowledge that he is a Cylon. The vast majority of the show consisted of events that never had a permanent effect on the fleet. Pegasus came and was destroyed in "Exodus: Part 2". Helo was abandoned on Caprica until someone came to rescue him. Chief Tyrol got married and had a kid, but then his wife died and it turned out the kid wasn't his. Nothing became permanent until the revelation of the Final Four Cylons. This is the sort of change that came about in Season Three. Before Season Three, this was a show without a direction; things would happen, but this was a show that could go on for years. In Season Three, it became a show with drive and a direction.

Dan Eisenberg, Published Author

2008-11-12T16:48:00.003-05:00

I disappeared. I kinda had to. Things have been rough lately, and very very busy, leaving no time. But I'm back, at least for now. The special occasion is my first published review of a film. My take on Synecdoche, New York can be found here. Apparently the editor really liked it. Meanwhile, I'm scoping out actuarial positions. Those two don't quite mesh, do they. Oh well, contradictions abound. As a little welcome back, I present my current thoughts on the extended holiday season.

Sundae Monday's (Hopefully) Back From Summer Vacation

2008-08-18T11:33:00.004-04:00

I didn't go anywhere this summer. A year in London was enough for me. Alas, lately my mind has been departing from this world and entrenching me within the world of pop culture. Well, mostly past pop culture. Along with keeping up with Mad Men, The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, in the past week I have consumed or am in the process of consuming Paul Sherman's Big Screen Boston, Watchmen (the only thing on this list I haven't finished yet), the first season of The Sopranos, the third season of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Monsieur Verdoux, La Strada, Hoop Dreams, The Takind of Pelham One Two Three (can you tell I've been watching way too much Hulu?), Halloween (the original), Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, Fahrenheit 9/11, and the film to which the clip below belongs, An American in Paris, all while listening to The Velvet Underground & Nico, OK Computer, The Bends, Unknown Pleasures and Modern Guilt all for the first time. I hope to write something about any one of these in the near future (most likely Halloween or Big Screen Boston). But on to the clip.

This clip comes from the final dance number in An American in Paris, which lasts 18 minutes. It is quite simply stunning, both in Gene Kelly's choreography and in E. Preston Ames and Cedric Gibbons' art direction. The scene takes place entirely within the daydreams of Jerry Mulligan (Kelly) after he has lost the love of his life (read: our little boy has a crush on his best friend's girl), and it has the feel of what we would see in the heads of Robert De Niro or Julie Christie at the end of Once Upon a Time in America or McCabe & Mrs. Miller, respectively. Those two characters, depressed by their worlds, escape through opium and the films end with them lost inside their heads. If they were musical in nature, their minds would look like Mulligan's dreams. However, the film pulls back from Mulligan sinking into his mind by pulling an It's a Wonderful Life: happy endings for everyone (except that other guy who loves Lisa. What a loser)!! It's a testimony to the power of this dance scene that I went from desperately wanting Lisa and Jerry back together to wishing Jerry's pain would never end. That may sound sadistic, but it's hard not to want pain when it's so beautiful and well crafted.

Gary Busey Attacks Sundae Monday

2008-07-28T21:48:00.003-04:00

Gary Busey is insane.

Gary Busey is brilliant.

Gary Busey has made insanity a good marketing tool.

Gary Busey can play guitar.

Gary Busey makes absolutely no sense.

Gary Busey is the man.

Remeber Two Years Ago...

2008-07-28T11:33:00.004-04:00

...when X3 had the biggest opening weekend ever?

Yeah, me neither.

That No Talent Ass-Clown

2008-07-28T10:59:00.004-04:00

Will it ever be possible to see Roberto Benigni and not hate him? I found myself asking that question as I watched Jim Jarmusch's Coffee and Cigarettes, the opening scene of which features the above "comic" "actor" alongside personal hero Steven Wright. The whole thing felt off, and I want to blame Benigni. The scene opens with him drinking coffee, and that just annoyed me. He's Roberto Benigni! He doesn't need coffee, especially with that much sugar. That instant filled me with dread. Watching Benigni fidget as he stirs in more sugar felt wrong. But I know I can't blame this on Benigni, especially with Jarmusch's awkward script. That doesn't mean that the situation was awkward, but that the awkwardness that should have arisen needed to feel more natural. Jarmusch nails the right tone in later segments, particularly "Twins" and "Renee", but here it feels as if Jarmusch saw some great talent to work with and couldn't find the right words to put in their mouths. The same thing happens in "Cousins", which features a conversation between Cate Blanchett and Cate Blanchett. "Cousins", at least, derives some humor from the visuals it presents; the normal checkered table or tablecloth is replaced by a checkered pattern on the coffee glasses and the staid room that does not allow smoking works as a better foil for Blanchett's Shelly than Blanchett's Cate.

Is it irresponsible to blame Roberto Benigni for his work in one of the worst scenes in Coffee and Cigarettes? Of course I would get away with it; after Life Is Beautiful, Benigni has been decried as a terrible actor, and one whose very presence can take down a movie. How does he look in his other collaborations with Jarmusch, the much lauded Night on Earth and Down By Law? His presence was a major bringdown to Coffee and Cigarettes. Is it possible to overlook his most famous role when watching him elsewhere?

HAhAhaHahahahaHAHA

2008-07-21T21:15:00.001-04:00

L'Sundae Monday C'est Moi

2008-07-14T23:40:00.002-04:00

I would be posting more, but I'm reading my annual book (73% Baby!). This year it's Paul Sherman's Big Screen Boston. I plan to give a thorough treatment once I get through it, which shouldn't be too long. It's certainly a good read. But I want to take a moment to celebrate this glorious day in French history.

...But With Computers

2008-07-13T22:35:00.003-04:00

Viewed 20 years out, Jumpin' Jack Flash holds up remarkably well. This primarily stems from the fact that the advanced technology of the film is instant messaging. If it were remade today, Terry Dolittle would have been contacted on her Blackberry. But if it were remade today, there would be excessive emphasis placed on the technology and super-smart hackers. Jumpin' Jack Flash remains refreshingly simple and straight-forward because it is about the human relationships here.

There are two classic films which have a significant influence on Jumpin' Jack Flash: North By Northwest and Laura. The influence of Laura can be written off as mere coincidence -- both films spend considerable time following someone falling in love with someone they might never meet -- but direct references to Hitchcock's cameo and the auction house scene beg comparisons. Now, Jumpin' Jack Flash is no North By Northwest, and Whoopie Goldberg is no Cary Grant. However, Flash has a much better handle on its comedy. Throwaway lines like "It's time for Gilligan's Gulag" pepper the film and add necessary relief to the spy action.

The suspense is generally the film's weakest point, primarily because it focuses so much on the actual plot. North By Northwest glides so easily because it knows that the plot is just an excuse to spend time with Cary Grant. Jumpin' Jack Flash actually wants us to care about the espionage and the British Consulate. Besides an enjoyably creepy performance from John Wood, the main thrust of the plot was unnecessary and deterred from where the film succeeds so well. That and the fact that the Consulate's henchman is Jim Belushi. That was just cruel.

One of the best aspects of Jumpin' Jack Flash is the way it manages to make Terry's scenes alone with the computer compelling, primarily through the use of Jonathan Pryce's voice for Jack. This device only arises after Terry goes to Jack's apartment and hears his voice, which tells us that we are distinctly seeing things from her perspective and hearing the conversations in her head. Most films don't give us such privileged access to our protagonist's minds, and this works greatly to the benefit of the film. Also, giving Whoopie Goldberg a voice to act against gives a way to show her come to care and eventually love Jack without it seeming exceedingly creepy. We all hear the sensual British voice that Terry does, and we all grow to like Jumpin' Jack Flash.

The Stuff that Films Are Made Of

2008-06-25T22:40:00.004-04:00

This is definitely not an entry into the Bizarro Blog-A-Thon over at Energetic Eye Theatre. You should not go there, and you would be a fool to read any of the horrible entries by other people. I hope you hate this post.

Hicks. Spaceships! ZOMBIES!! Could anyone ask for more from filmed entertainment? It's a simple collection of scenes that are helpfully explained to us by a narrator. The special effects are lovingly analog, and any inconsistencies in lighting are hardly noticeable next to the overwhelmingly strong acting, particularly by Martin Landau as the old man. The set design is evocative and contributes significantly to the overall mood of absolute terror. I don't know how else to properly analyze this scene. It's an example of just what the movies are capable of accomplishing compared to that, this

is embarrassing. Reading? That's why they made books. Zombies are why they made movies.

But I'm Not Wearing Any Sundae Monday

2008-06-23T19:48:00.005-04:00

This week is going to be all over the place because there's a lot going on right now.

First, I want to mention the passing of George Carlin. He will be remembered for his roles in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, Dogma and Shining Time Station. But he will be best remembered for his stand up comedy. Carlin is held among the highest ranks with Richard Pryor and Lenny Bruce. Enjoy those Seven Words:

If you haven't seen it yet, you should go and see The Animation Show Year 4. I think that The Animation Show is extremely important in the world of animation for giving a decent release to a collection of short films, something which is sorely lacking from the rest of the film world, except that time in February when the Academy Award Nominated Shorts get their own program. But The Animation Show attracts a different sort of audience. Hopefully someone like Judd Apatow can curate something similar for live action shorts. A man can dream. Some films from this year's lineup are available online.

Finally, I want to share this for those of you who did not see it this past Thursday. Stephen Colbert has spent over two years trying to find what he terms a formidable opponent. He finally has.

Another 100 Movies...

2008-06-18T01:26:00.003-04:00

It's that time of year again: AFI has unveiled another collection of 100 movies, this time partitioned into collections of 10 by genre. First, we need to remember that comedy and romance both have their own AFI lists. Genres such as Fantasy, Gangster and Western seem like they would make good lists, but Epic? Is Epic a genre? I always thought of it as a scale. Animation is a medium, not a genre, but I guess I'll take it for my beloved Fantasia. Even the definitions of the limitations of each genre are questionable. Field of Dreams has about as much baseball as Jerry Maguire has football. It seems that the genre of Fantasy is more about simple wish fulfillment than what most people think of as a Fantasy film. This could have been a wonderful opportunity to showcase some of the work of Ray Harryhausen, but AFI preferred to let Jimmy Stewart talk to a non-existent rabbit. Where is the fantasy in Harvey? But I don't want to just gripe. There are many things that went absolutely right about these lists.

This is most apparent in the creations of the Gangster and Western lists. Both lists are able to combine undisputed classics (Stagecoach, White Heat) with genre revisions (The Godfather, The Wild Bunch). Of course there are wishes that loose genre definitions could have broadened the Gangster list to include crime films like, say Night and the City (if The Third Man and Lawrence of Arabia count as American films, than so does Night and the City), but that is a minor quibble in the face of the solid lists produced here.

This praise also goes to the Romantic Comedy list with entries ranging from It Happened One Night and Adam's Rib to Annie Hall and Moonstruck. But when raising what is now considered a predominantly feminine genre, I can't help but raise the call of the Siren: where's the melodrama? Surely we could have been spared the Courtroom Drama list and all the A Few Good Mens that come with it. Musicals would also be a pleasant addition to this list of genres, if only because it would give us a reason to look back on Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire again.

If there is one genre which didn't need the representation here, it is Animation. There are lists without surprises and then there is this one. Every list should have at least one entry that makes you look twice and adds a bit of interest to the list; that entry that's obscure enough to make you want to put it on the top of the rental list. Fantasy has The Thief of Baghdad, Western has Red River, and even Science Fiction has Invasion of the Body Snatchers (oh to see the '78 remake on that list instead). Animation by its nature has no obscure great films; well, at least none that could make this list. Classic animation is naturally equated with Disney from very specific periods. There aren't any films between Cinderella in 1950 and Beauty and the Beast in 1991. There are four films from the first Disney Golden Age (1937-1942), and two from the second Golden Age (1990-1994). Even in the similarly limited scope of the Gangster genre, there are films that aren't as noticeable on other lists, such as White Heat and Scarface: The Shame of a Nation. The only thing worth noting in the Animation list is the inclusion of Shrek, the only non-Disney film and itself a parody of Disney fairy tales.

Once again, we are given a list with 100 movies from AFI. Though many will dismiss it as too predictable, the inclusion of films like The Godfather and Lawrence of Arabia should be taken as givens. What makes each list exciting are those odd selections that you can't expect and inspire a reevaluation of that list of movies you need to see. This inspires me to seek out Red River and National Velvet, and that is all I can ask of a list like this.

Sundae Monday Had a Birthday

2008-06-18T00:55:00.002-04:00

This past week marked my birthday, so everyone gets some Cake for Sundae Monday:

mmmm...that was tasty. And now that part of the Cake where it starts to turn a bit bitter:

A Threatless Summer?

2008-06-11T09:36:00.002-04:00

This summer's action films seem to lack urgency. With the exception of Lord of the Rings: Prince Caspian, which I didn't see, villains in action films don't really pose a threat to people other than the hero. Of course this will change, judging from the massive destruction on display in the trailers for The Incredible Hulk and The Dark Knight, but I want to take the opportunity to savor a strangely personal slant to the summer so far. The prime examples are Iron Man and Indiana Jones and Insert Joke Title Here.

Iron Man is merely the latest superhero movie to hit theaters, but it is also one of the most unusual. It goes through the typical superhero motions (origin story, testing powers, showdown with villain), but it puts the most emphasis within this arc on testing powers. It also doesn't hurt that Robert Downey Jr owns the movie in a way few actors do in any movies, nevermind superhero movies. When people think about the exciting part of the movie, they don't think of the battle between Tony Stark and Obadiah Stane; they think of Stark's first experiments with the Iron Man suit. The thing that struck me most about that final confrontation was how it almost felt as if Stark and Stane weren't fighting in a city. There was one car thrown, but there was never a strong threat that if Stark were to lose, then Stane would go on a rampage destroying the city. Stane, by manner of being a businessman, was acting in self-defense. He wanted to be able to sell his weapons to whomever he desired. Granted, those people are terrorists, but that fact never really gets enough attention as a way that Stane is a horrible person. The impact of selling to terrorists would have been amplified has the terrorists used their newly purchased Stark Industries weapons to attack the Western World in some way. When Stark returns to Afghanistan to take vengeance on those who attacked him to start the film, we see the terrorists using the new Jericho missile to level mountains in Afghanistan. We don't see this as an attack on our troops, and the missile seems to be far from any actual people. So where's the threat? If we're supposed to hate the terrorists and Stane for providing them with weapons, then we need to really see the impact.

Speed Racer wants us to hate the evil corporations, embodied by the character of E. P. Arnold Royalton. Royalton is the greasily seductive power of wealth and privilege before he is spurned by the Racer family. Then he turns to destroying Speed, both physically and mentally. It is in this attempt at mental degradation that Royalton reveals the threat to greater society that he and other corporations pose. When Royalton explains to Speed that the results of every race is fixed, he briefly mentions that this is why some company has a monopoly on the production of some motor product. I forget the exact details, but this does constitute a legitimate threat to the free market and society as we and the Racer family know it. However, this tidbit, which adds much more malevolence to the character of Royalton and all he represents, is largely forgotten in favor of the popular line we use with Barry Bonds -- he's ruining the purity of the sport! I know this is a kid's movie, but they could have at least put a little more in how Royalton is actually harming the world.

Indiana Jones has a long history of fighting terrible people, and preventing them from becoming unstoppable terrible people. Though we don't learn until the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark what the ark actually does, we know that the Nazis want it and that it's probably some sort of weapon. And that picture at the beginning showed lightning bolts coming out of it. We know from the very beginning of Last Crusade that the Holy Grail gives eternal life. That doesn't sound very threatening, but think of it this way: think of the film Downfall. Now think of what Downfall would look like if Hitler and his top advisers were immortal. What the Hell does the Crystal Skull do? We don't know, but at least it's super-magnetic, which is to say that it attracts multiple metals, including gold, as if they were iron. I'm going to forget for a second just how weird it is to look at the skull and see its magnetic powers seemingly turn on and off throughout the movie. But I don't even really get what happened at the end. The Crystal Skull was just another piece in a puzzle that allowed an alien to come back to life so it could leave Earth? Then why not just let the Commies take it? Add to that Shia LeBeouf in the major action set piece as Errol Flynn and Tarzan King of the Apes and you've removed all the tension from the film. Of course, this film tried to compensate by vastly increasing the deadliness of its creepy-crawlies. Where the first three films had snakes, bugs and rats for simple gross-out phobia-inducing purposes, this one features both a scorpion and massive CGI red ants that will eat a man alive. Come to think of it, the scene with the scorpion is the perfect symbol for this movie. We think that there may actually be a threat to Indy and the Kid, but it turns out to be harmless.

If there's one thing that Kung Fu Panda has going for it, it's the genre of the Kung Fu Movie. Like Iron Man before it, this is a rather unadventurous genre movie, but it goes through the motions with solid execution. The Kung Fu Movie also includes various anime, allowing the opening to be visually splendid in the style of a show like Samurai Jack, which completely disarmed me and put me at ease for the rest of the movie. The only problem with the storyline is that the Kung Fu Movie is always a personal one. There may be some spy elements to Enter the Dragon, but those are minimized in favor of Bruce Lee's personal stake in the tournament. Similarly, there is an attempt to make the threat of Tai Lung more than it really is. When news comes that Tai Lung has escaped from his prison, the village is immediately evacuated. This stands in contrast to the explanation for why Tai Lung would come back so angry in the first place. Tai Lung is looking for personal vengeance on Po and Master Shifu simply because he couldn't fulfill what he believed his destiny would be. He never mentions anything about the village, and there is no reason to believe that he would harm those who are in the village. In this light, such important emphasis on the safety of the village seems silly.

This summer has been a strangely personal one so far in Hollywood. Tony Stark must destroy his mentor, while Po and Indiana Jones must protect theirs. The outside world hardly matters to these heroes, and it is rarely shown to the audience. All of this leads to a feeling of less tension and fear regarding the villains and the possibility of succeeding. These movies don't have a temple collapsing around dozens of people while Indy reaches for the Grail. There is no train running to the center of Gotham that will spread Ra's Al Ghul's fear drug to everyone in the city, nor has Doc Ock sent a train hurdling toward its doom that only the hero can stop (I think the real question is: Where is Iron Man's train system?). We simply have one guy in a mechanical suit fighting another guy in a mechanical suit in a parking lot. A collapsing temple that threatens 5 people, one of whom is too greedy to see that there is a collapsing temple around him. You know there's serious trouble when we need M. Night Shyamalan to come around and threaten the whole world.

Where's My Sundae Monday

2008-06-03T13:34:00.002-04:00

This is an addendum to last week's Sundae Monday. This week is solely focused on the work of the Pixies and unofficial videos to be found on YouTube. This first one is one of the most frightening videos you're likely to find on YouTube. Enjoy Tame:

Next is a video for Where's My Mind composed of footage from its most conspicuous use in pop culture:

This is a video for Hey made from Enigma videos:

I'll leave you with the official video for my favorite Pixies song:

Sexism v Racism

2008-05-31T21:48:00.004-04:00

I haven't seen much of Sex and the City; I caught a few episodes with my flat's feminist in England. I thought its use of voice-over was much better used than in a show like Grey's Anatomy. By placing each episode within the framework of Carrie Bradshaw's column, the writers found a way to center the episode on a certain theme without it feeling overly contrived. We view things from Carrie's perspective, so she picks what to include or exclude from her column, and so what we see. I have nothing against the show. If I were channel surfing, I would gladly settle for it, though I would never actively seek it out.

I haven't seen the Sex and the City movie, nor do I plan to in the foreseeable future. Though they had little effect on me, the reviews, combined with the expected large box office gross, raised an important question: Does this film deserve its success? At first glance, the answer is a resounding no. But we must also look at the broader cultural context into which this film is being released. I don't think of myself as a feminist, but I do believe that there should be more films about women and for women, if not for everyone. Looking at the releases of the past months, only Baby Mama stands out as something with a female name attached as something more than the love interest or victim. This is a film made for an underserved portion of the audience, and there should be more. In order for there to be more, we need more films like this and Baby Mama to succeed at the box office. Therein lies the dilemma presented whenever a film like Little Miss Sunshine breaks out for indie film: Is it a good thing for indie film (or films starring women in this case) if a bad one manages to become a big success?

Before you answer this, consider an additional dimension to this problem. One of the first things I read about the film was that they had cast Jennifer Hudson in her first post-Oscar role as Sarah Jessica Parker's personal assistant. This strikes me as simply wrong. In the midst of this glorious ode to feminism (I'm not going into the politics of the show. Armond has done enough in that regard) sits the ultimate symbol of the racial divide in the city and this country: a black woman practically a slave to a white woman who is obsessed with shoes. If we're talking about gender equality with a film about four women, then we need to talk about racial equality and typecasting the only prominent black woman in the movie as a personal assistant.

Given this summer's lineup, I would be inclined to give Sex and the City the benefit of the doubt. We have no films between now and The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2 coming out in August that feature a woman as the main attraction (where is the original entertainment? But that's a whole other rant). Should we settle for mediocre product simply because it is centered on female characters? Buying a ticket suggests I am comfortable with more bad movies about white women and don't mind the casual racism apparent from the advertising. Not buying a ticket indicates that I don't care if Hollywood doesn't give us another female oriented film for months. What is a boy to do?

Sundae Monday's Grungy

2008-05-19T21:55:00.005-04:00

I am not a big fan of Nirvana. It's a generational thing. This post is entirely about Nirvana. Before I get into it, I feel that I should provide proper context, starting with 70s punk. For the record, when I refer to the Big Four, I mean the most popular grunge bands to come out of Seattle in the early 90s: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains.

I have always lived in the shadow of Nirvana. When Kurt Cobain shot himself and essentially ended the grunge movement, I was seven years old and had just seen my first music video on MTV (for the record, it was Green Day's "Basket Case"). I didn't learn who Nirvana was for a long time, as I was brought up in a home that favored the works of Billy Joel and James Taylor. By the time I finally did get a chance to listen to Nevermind, Nirvana has already been proclaimed the greatest and most influential band since the Beatles. Nevermind is now the usual runner-up in any list of the greatest albums ever made, behind some Beatles album, usually Sgt. Pepper's. With my expectations placed so high by the rest of society, my first couple of listens inevitably led to disappointment.

Since then I have found it difficult to approach Nirvana's work, in much the same way that I find it hard to try listening to the 60s work of the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and Bob Dylan. You can yell at me that I need to listen to these "seminal" works immediately, but that only makes me shrink from the discs. When something is so highly rated, especially works that require a certain context, it becomes increasingly difficult for a modern listener to hear these works with fresh ears. Some bands that play important historical roles can be appreciated on their own terms, like the Sex Pistols. Listen to "God Save the Queen":

You don't need need to see their appearance with Bill Grundy or the context of the 70s to see them as outrageous and rebellious. It's harder to appreciate the works of the Ramones without recognition of how their simplified song structure flew in the face of the growing movement of progressive rock, as exemplified by the works of Pink Floyd, Yes, and King Crimson. Listening from 30 years in the future, the Ramones sound like surf-rock on speed: faster with more edge. Just compare the Ramones' "Rockaway Beach"

with the Beach Boys' "I Get Around":

Where the Sex Pistols had a distinct message that was carried through their lyrical content and their musical style -- anarchy reigned in their music -- the Ramones had a much subtler message. Their revolution was strictly musical. Blitzkrieg Bop stands as a message on the state of music at its time. It's a call for simplification that seems just as relevant now in the face of the music of bands like Tool.

Nirvana's music came as a similar call to arms. However, the excessive musicianship of prog rock that punk reacted to had been replaced by the superficiality of hair metal in the late 80s. Nirvana wasn't about returning rock music to its simplistic roots; it was about removing the sheen exemplified by Poison, Def Leppard, and Bon Jovi. In this way, the grunge movement wasn't the changing of the guard that everyone thinks it is. Nirvana simply replaced one style with another. Deliberately inane lyrics ("a mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido") replaced overwhelmingly stupid lyrics ("every rose has its thorn, just like every night has its dawn, just like every cowboy sings a sad sad song"). The movement was one of stylistic concerns. There was no return to the good old days when rock music was just three chords. Nirvana's sound stemmed directly from the underground music scene that had blossomed during the 80s.

With the exception of Alice in Chains, each of the Big Four is immediately credited with a distinct set of influences. Pearl Jam's relatively clean sound and big guitar hooks echo the late 60s work or the Rolling Stones and the Who. Soundgarden, before breaking big with Badmotorfinger, were labeled a Led Zeppelin/Black Sabbath hybrid. Nirvana is the most distinctly punk-influenced of the Big Four, as noted in Kurt Cobain's statement that "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is his version of a Pixies' song. Nirvana never developed a musical team like Mike McCready and Jeff Ament or Kim Thyil and Ben Shephard. In fact, it often feels as if Cobain prides himself on how simple the music is. One of the most interesting things about the video for Nirvana's "In Bloom" is how it directly references pop music from the 60s when "In Bloom" is one of the most strikingly pop-y songs of the grunge movement:

Kurt Cobain wrote good pop songs and then slathered them in distortion. Verse, chorus, verse, chorus, musical break, chorus. Though this template is unavoidable in all music, Nirvana's use of this structure was particularly apparent. Verses were often quiet, and choruses were usually much louder. If I were to intellectualize this to an absurd degree, I would say that this is Cobain's way of emphasizing the traditional pop song structure so as to make his audience recognize the utter sameness in the songs they normally listen to. I think that this is giving our friend Kurt a bit too much credit. I think he just like a good pop song but wanted to hang out with the cool kids. If you want to look at a nice twist on a normal pop song template, look at Soundgarden's Rusty Cage:

Here, the musical break never really ends, as it changes the entire rhythm of the song. That is what draws me to Soundgarden rather than Nirvana; Soundgarden attempts to make more than simple pop songs. Nirvana never really seems interested in the music they make. It's hard to look at Nevermind as a good album without placing it in its context. Even so, of the albums released in 1991 by the Big Four, Nevermind comes in a distant third to Badmotorfinger and Ten, respectively. Nevermind isn't as interesting rhythmically as Badmotorfinger or musically as Ten. Without a personal stake in the music, I lean away from Nirvana's simple style.

A quick thought on my earlier comment about one style replacing another; look at these two videos:

Look at the way shots of the band are intercut with death. The band isn't presented in glamour shots like they would in a Poison video. The Toadies use stark lighting as if to highlight their flaws, and shots of Soundgarden are often dominated by the lights in the background in an effort to hide the band. These techniques are common in grunge and alternative videos, as they reject what was once considered the standard for a rock video and try to rebel by fitting another sort of conformity.

Though I would prefer to listen to Badmotorfinger or Vs. on any given day, I would say that the one album that just gets better with every listen is Alice in Chains' Dirt. Often listening to that album, I feel like this is what Hell should sound like:

Layne Staley sounds like he is screaming in pain, and the guitar sounds like a car revving up about to drive off a cliff. Even songs written by Jerry Cantrell that don't thematically fit in with the majority of the album, which is devoted to Staley's heroin addiction, never sound out of place. The prime example is Rooster, which to my mind is the ultimate song about the Vietnam War:

Dirt is an unrelentingly bleak album, but its sound and lyrics cohere so perfectly that it transcends its boundaries to become truly beautiful. It is an album born of pain, so its grand themes suit it well. I never get that sense with Nevermind. But before people just think I hate Nirvana, I want to present what I think is Nirvana's best song:

I don't hate Nirvana. I just don't get it. I feel like someone is trying to tell me a joke and ends it with "you had to be there." Can someone tell me from an objective point of view, what is so good about Nirvana?

Sundae Monday's Back in the US

2008-05-19T21:46:00.002-04:00

That Nirvana post is definitely going to be coming in the next week. It may end up as next week's Sundae Monday with the amount of videos I intend to include. I would have done it this week but things have been too busy with returning home from London and everything that goes with it. So this week I present a very nuanced and accurate portrayal of the people whom I called my neighbors for nine months.

Sundae Monday's Film Marathon Part II

2008-05-13T10:33:00.003-04:00

The Sundae Monday that was too big for one post or for Monday. Let's just call it Two for Tuesday. Part One can be found below, or here.

Days of Heaven

Alright, I admit my philistinism. I don't get it. It is certainly beautiful, and some passages have a near biblical feeling. The birds work wonderfully, and some symbols are graceful in their presentation. That said, some elements just don't work for me, especially Linda Manz. I would be happy to entertain a defense of the film, and I'll gladly take a beating from critical society if it makes me appreciate the film more. I'll stop embarrassing myself now by declaring the locust scene simply amazing:

A Generation

This is certainly a good way to start a career. Andrzej Wajda takes Italian Neo-realism and moves it to the east in this tale of communist resistance to the Nazis in Poland. In some ways, especially in its use of characters, this is the most distinct of Wajda's war films. Kanal and Ashes and Diamonds fit more comfortably into predetermined narrative structures, and so they are much easier to digest. A Generation, however, provides little by way of plot, playing out as a series of disappointments and losses that are the inevitable result of war. Though the blatantly communist propaganda is awkward (got to get it by those censors somehow), it is insignificant when placed against the rest of the film. I couldn't find a clip from the film, so I will let this nice girl tell you about Wajda:

Kanal

Well that is certainly a step in some direction. I'm not sure if it's forward, and I'm not sure if this direction is the right one. Wajda is certainly more sure of himself than he was in A Generation. Sometimes, such as in the film's opening shot, the aesthetics stifle the narrative. In a sense, the film is too well-made. It's formal excellence overshadows any attempts at genuine suspense in the story, though the setting of the sewers makes for wonderful dread and atmosphere. If there's one thing this film doesn't lack, it's atmosphere. And nihilism. This is one of the most nihilistic films I have ever seen. Have fun:

Ashes and Diamonds

If A Generation was a bit too raw and Kanal was too polished, then Ashes and Diamonds finds a happy medium. There is a set narrative here, and its visual style never overshadows what is going on. The film also provides one key ingredient that is lacking in the previous films: laughter. With his first writing credit on one of his directing efforts, Wajda reveals a sense of humor that provides a nice counterpoint to yet another WWII tragedy. It also sets up a crucial narrative point, making it a narratively economical way to to add something extra to the film. This is also the first of Wajda's films to feature a fully developed romance. Ashes and Diamonds deals in a certain amount of imagery that, depending on your view of the film, is either pretentious or gloriously epic. I think you can guess which side of that fence I fall on.

This was fun. Now that I have a little bit of free time, I hope to write a bit more, depending on what tickles my fancy. Finals limited my cultural intake to the television, music and political worlds, so I need to get back into film. This was a good start. Have a good week.

Sundae Monday's Film Marathon Part I

2008-05-12T17:45:00.010-04:00

Finals are over! Have been since Thursday. Almost as if to celebrate my freedom, the Prince Charles Cinema hosted a marathon of films in celebration of Europe Day. After that, I caught Days of Heaven at the National Gallery, and the Wajda War Trilogy at the BFI Southbank. This would make for a total of 11 films, except I fell asleep for most of Persona and Knife in the Water, so I'll go with 9 1/2 films consumed this weekend, only two of which I had seen before. This week's Sundae Monday will give me an opportunity to collect some of my thoughts on these films while providing you with some wonderful accompanying visuals. This section covers the 5 1/2 during the From Europe With Love film marathon.

La Belle et la Bête

This film is like a play on screen. The sets are wonderful, and the actors EMOTE in a way that you just cannot find these days. The use of technology is admirable, but the most impressive thing about it is how seamless it is. The dissolves are absolutely stunning for the time, and they help to elevate the film in its realism, even as it reminds us that this is a fairy tale and cannot be real. The film is technically impeccable, but it never overshadows the story at its heart. Here is the first meeting between Beauty and the Beast:

8 1/2

8 1/2 is much better than it was a month ago. Who would have guessed that a film mired in dreams, fantasies, and symbolism would be better on the second viewing? The harem scene is an incredible way to show how our memories and fantasies must compete for our attention. I was a bit surprised to look upon an early dream scene and feel that it could have been ghost-directed by Ingmar Bergman. More on that connection later. Since that scene is unavailable on YouTube, so instead I present the single most stunning image in a film full of them. Pause at the 15 second mark.

Tamara

Director Szabolcs Hajdu is certainly one to watch, if you get a chance. His shots are relatively long and well composed, and his narratives are certainly unique. If I were judging solely by Hajdu's technical abilities, I would have nothing but glowing things to say about this film. Alas, the plot is very challenging to someone unfamiliar with a Hungarian point of view, and I don't think that should necessarily be praised. Perhaps the film's weakest aspect is its sense of humor. It trots out stale jokes; some of them are beaten to death, and some of are revealed to early, draining the humor from what could be an entertaining situation. Even so, I would heartily recommend this to someone looking for new talent. This clip doesn't have subtitles, but you don't really need them.

Rhythm Is It!

I can't wait for the inspirational film about inner city students who learn to express themselves through dance that will come from this documentary. Another lobotomized "based on a true story" film that will suck the soul out of what is actually an interesting story about an English dance teacher in Berlin and his counterpart leading the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. The film executes its climax very poorly, and I'm not even sure why they included the section focusing on the conductor of the orchestra except to introduce the music the kids will dance to. That said, most of the film is an interesting look at how teens react to discipline and challenges that doesn't come from their normal lives. However, more than anything else, this film reminded me of how much I love Fantasia, particularly the scene scored to The Rite of Spring. As a child, I was obsessed with dinosaurs, and I watched this part to no end. With that massive bias in mind, this may be the single best scene in cinema:

Don't Look Now

My first thought after this film ended: Don't you hate it when you accidentally look into the future and see your own funeral? I get that all the time. Pisses me off. But seriously, this is a masterpiece of atmosphere in the uniquely 70's horror sort of way. 70's horror films used the zoom and little twinges in their soundtrack in a way that seems foreign to a modern viewer whose main horror intake has come from the post-Alien/Halloween era of horror films. I'm not sure if this is my cup of tea, but I plan to explore it further when given the chance. Enjoy the opening:

Persona

As I mentioned above, I missed most of this when I fell asleep at 3 AM. I saw the beginning and the end. In fact, my viewing experience is remarkably similar to the first time I tried to watch La Dolce Vita (There's that Bergman/Fellini connection again). Based solely on those two viewing experiences, I would have to side with Fellini. Persona mostly overwhelmed me with shock imagery, while La Dolce Vita started with a helicopted carrying a statue of Jesus. What's not to love? I woke up to a image of Bibi Andersson and Liv Ullmann merged together ala Brudlefly and spent the rest of the time confused. The final scene didn't depend on context and felt profound and moving, even without the preceding film. Based on these very limited experiences, I have to go with La Dolce Vita, though I hope to see all of Persona soon (since that first experience I did get a chance to see La Dolce Vita in full. Worth the wait). In that vein, this is what I woke up to:

I have no thoughts on Knife in the Water at this time. Expect Part II soon.

Nine Inch Sundae Monday

2008-05-05T18:37:00.003-04:00

As I increase my confidence in the Chinese Remainder Theorem and Sallust's history of the Catiline Conspiracy, I figured I would take a short break. In case you didn't know, Nine Inch Nails is pulling a Radiohead. Their new album, which was announced two weeks ago, was released on their official website today. I figured this would be as good a time as any for me to actually discover some of their music. I know their main radio hits and have liked a number of them, so I'm looking into actually trying to listen to what Trent Reznor has to offer. What is most surprising to me is the fact that radio stations don't play "Closer" often, despite how big a hit it was. Rather, the three most often played songs are:

Head Like a Hole (talk about quick and annoying editing):

Down In It (slightly less headache inducing):

and The Perfect Drug (Reznor channels his inner Zappa):

to finish, here is the video for Nine Inch Nails' new single "Discipline". Proof that Trent Reznor has a sense of humor. Who'da thunk it?

Stop It America, You're Pissing Me Off

2008-04-29T18:42:00.003-04:00

I am not a big fan of Nirvana. It's a generational thing. This post has nothing do with Nirvana. I hope to talk about Nirvana at some point in the future. I just didn't want to look for a picture concerning what I'm talking about now.

I don't consider myself old or particularly out of touch with popular culture, but I don't know Miley Cyrus. I heard about a concert movie, and she presented a song from Enchanted at the Oscars. And apparently she's worth $1 BILLION. Why should I care? Why can't I go anywhere on the web without something about Miley Cyrus and Annie Liebowitz? I refuse to read it on principle because I know it's about a 15 year old girl who was photographed topless. There is no nudity, unless the censors suddenly don't like people's backs. I understand that people see this girl as the latest embodiment of innocence, but putting her on a pedestal and forcing the girl to apologize for something that even hints at sex is just stupid. Let's just remember another former alumna from the Disney factory: Britney Spears.

I don't want to talk about this anymore. Stop caring about this, America. It's not worth your time, and it's not worth the web space. This is really pissing me off. I need something to feel better.

That hits the spot.

Why Is This Sundae Monday Different From All Other Nights?

2008-04-21T16:00:00.002-04:00

If you know me, then you know I never hide my religion. Jews have a certain knack for humor, but if you had a Jewish mother, you would laugh too. Passover is the time of year that makes me happy to be a Jew, in no small part because the food and family provide great comfort. You can keep your Christmas. I'll just have some matzah ball soup. And so it is that I yet again revel in the wonders of Jewish humor.

A basic primer for all the Goyim out there:

This is just plain funny:

Matzah!

Everyone who celebrates Passover ends up with more matzah than they can stomach (there's only so much matzah pizza a man can eat). Here are some suggestions for what to do with your leftovers:

On a completely separate note, I will not be posting for at least another two weeks. Having six exams and a paper will do that to you. I look forward to seeing you again if I survive.

Stand Up For a True Artist

2008-04-18T19:43:00.002-04:00

I'm sure you've heard about the petition to get Uwe Boll to stop making movies. I have never seen an Uwe Boll film, nor do I plan to unless forced (or given a choice between Bloodrayne and, say, Failure to Launch). But who are you to shut this man up unless he has truly offended you? Isn't he this generation's Ed Wood? Don't we need that? If you have seen one of his films, and find it worse than a mediocre and insulting film like Fever Pitch (no true Red Sox fan can like that movie), then sure, ask for your money back. But the amount of signatures on that petition (206864 as of this writing) is far too many for people who have found themselves legitimately offended by the works of this man. I would be willing to bet that there are significant numbers of signers who have never seen a film by Boll but just like making fun of bad movies. To those people, I must ask: Why?

Has Uwe Boll made a movie that has truly scarred you? What about his films do you object so highly to? If it's the videogame thing, then you should start up a petition for Andrzej Bartkowiak as well (was Doom any better?). Did he tarnish the reputation of good actors too much? Can you think of any other actor besides Ben Kingsley that once had a reputation to be tarnished? If we're going that route, then Jon Avnet deserves a petition for what he has done to Al Pacino in 88 Minutes. There is nothing truly horrible that Boll has done that hasn't been done by another director.

What I find most impressive is that he keeps getting hired. After all, his films are bombs, so the laws of economics should do what this petition is doing without anybody needing to express their hatred of him. He succeeds by working outside the studio system and making movies on his terms. If there were a tightly adherent cult that praised his movies to the stars, he might be seen as an auteur of sorts. As is, he is decried so far and wide that people (myself included) will never see his movies to see what the big deal is. In fact, if I could easily obtain a film of his, I might watch it simply to spite this petition. And maybe then I would realize why this petition is there. Oh the circular logic is amazing.

Sundae Monday Goes Hardcore (Punk)

2008-04-14T18:50:00.002-04:00

As I'm sure you all know, the political world exploded this weekend because Barack Obama started preparing for Passover in Pennsylvania (my mother always preferred horseradish sauce to the more traditional radishes for the bitter herbs). Normally I don't venture into the world of politics, and today is no exception, no matter how much I was tempted by this video of Obama talking about Hillary's gun past. He can't even keep a straight face. I was nearly on the floor. But this week revolves around my discovery of BlankTV, apparently a one-stop source for alternative music. This ranges from Iggy and the Stooges to Black Flag, Fugazi, Yo La Tengo, Wolfmother, and any number of other alternative of punk bands. If you're at all interested in alternative music, you should check it out. And now some videos!

Let's start with the Ramones:

The Kooks:

Rancid:

Street Dogs:

Gang Green:

and finally The Only Band That Mattered:

Keep in mind this is only a fraction of what I found that I know of. There is so much to explore that I could literally spend hours discovering new bands. As I said, if you like alternative music, then this is the place for you.

Which Wajda?

2008-04-11T18:30:00.002-04:00

I find myself in a bit of an awkward situation. My flight back to Boston is in sight (May 15), and I plan on spending my last week consuming an unreasonable amount of films in London's rep houses consuming films I doubt I'll be able to see back home (at least for a while). The BFI Southbank Cinema is spending the month of May focusing on Andrzej Wajda, of whom I have seen no films. In fact, the only reason I even know his name is because of the Criterion boxset. Though I plan on watching as much as possible, I do have a budget. BFI has a day when they are showing all three of the films in the boxset back-to-back-to-back. Should I spend my time and money on that, or should I go for more obscure titles from the retrospective? It seems unlikely that I will get a chance to see the more obscure titles for years, but should I give up the chance of seeing the three war films on the big screen knowing that I can relatively easily see them on DVD? I'm constantly told that films like these are meant for the cinema, but I can I give up what may be my only chance to see the more obscure films? I really don't know what to do. Please help.

A Sundae Monday Primer

2008-04-08T11:53:00.002-04:00

This week's collection of videos was inspired by last week's episode of South Park, an altogether disappointing affair, considering it was a satire on the WGA strike. The highlight of the episode was the spoofing of some internet phenomena, which led me to realize how out of the loop I have been on some things. I will readily admit that there were some things here I hadn't seen before the episode, so I figure that someone reading this might be in the same boat.

First, Samwell's "What What (In the Butt)":

And its reinterpretation, featuring one Leopold Stotch:

Next, "Chocolate Rain":

Tron Guy:

"Numa Numa" Guy:

Star Wars Kid:

Sneezing Panda:

Dramatic Chipmunk:

Chris Crocker:

Laughing Baby (Seriously, how did this get 44 million views?):

Afro Ninja:

And now you can watch them all kill each other:

Feel the Paine

2008-04-02T18:06:00.003-04:00

There's nothing quite as enjoyable as being forced to watch a good movie for a class. Even while focusing on the cinematography in The Third Man this evening, I couldn't help but truly discover Bernard Lee. You may know him as Sergeant Paine, or perhaps as M in the James Bond films. Watching him this time around was a revelation. Major Calloway (Trevor Howard) doesn't have the one-liners he almost certainly would if the film were more modern. Instead, that job goes to Lee. He is so casual delivering lines like "sounds anti-British" that you don't even get the joke for a minute. His presence also serves the film's greater themes, as he is the only character to be genuinely amusing. His death is the saddest moment in the film. Lee would have been 100 in January, so consider this a late tribute. I was unable to find any scenes online that highlighted Lee, so below you will find The Third Man in its entirety. Amazing thing that internet.

Sundae Monday, Dear Reader

2008-03-31T17:04:00.004-04:00

Before I get to this week's videos, I want to tell an amusing anecdote from earlier today. Today I went out to the Cine Lumiere, which happens to have some of the best programming in London (a Marcello Mastroianni retrospective followed by a week of Colossal Youth? Oh Hell Yes). This evening there was to be a showing of Robert Altman's The Player, which I haven't seen. After a lengthy introduction, the lights dimmed and the film began. A title card came up "Players." Hmm. I know the film is a satire, maybe this is a joke, right? Wrong. It turns out that the theater accidentally received a 70s tennis film instead of Altman's take on Hollywood. The worst part? They wouldn't even let me watch Players. Sigh. Ah well, c'est la vie.
,
This week I present "Wizard People, Dear Reader." If you have read any reviews of the SXSW entry We Are Wizards, then you may have heard the name Brad Neely. He recorded an audio narration to the film version of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. One of the wonderful things about this is it both hilariously comments on the action of the film and allows a viewer to deconstruct the film on a purely visual basis, if one were so inclined. It's telling that Neely introduces his narration as "a book on tape," even though he is clearly narrating the film. There is nothing particularly exciting about the film visually, and this underlines the fact. It's still worth watching all 34 parts on YouTube because they are hilarious. Just keep in mind that Neely takes liberty with names, so you shouldn't be surprised to hear about Hagar the Horrible, the Wretched Harmony, Professor Hardcastle McCormick or Professor Snake (in this version, Snake is a woman). I'm just posting a few of my favorite moments, but feel free to check out the rest.

Chapters 1 & 2 ("Magical deeds are afoot Dear Readers. Magical darkness a must"):

Chapter 8 ("Holy Balls! He bought the Turkish Owl!"):

Chapter 19 ("Wink Wink, Harry. Wink Wink"):

4 Shots, 3 Locations and 2 Reasons to Watch This Movie

2008-03-30T15:45:00.007-04:00

Do I have to turn in my movie blog by saying that I wasn't completely won over by 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days? The film certainly had its moments, but for a subject that should be so viscerally emotional, I felt the film was far too cerebral in its execution for a subject like this. Now that I have mentioned my big gripe with the film, I will say that I would recommend this film to anyone. The second half of the film makes up for the detachment of the first half with some wonderfully intense moments. What's even more amazing is that the intensity stems not from the action on screen, but from Cristian Mungiu's presentation.

This is best signified by the now well known shot that sits still focusing on Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) as she sits at her boyfriend's mother's birthday party. As conversation continues on general inanities, the camera remains fixed on Otilia worrying about the fate of her friend Gabita (Laura Vasiliu), who is currently undergoing an abortion. The camera traps us in this uncomfortable space with Otilia, and the result is as mesmerizing as it is unbearable. This shot is one of four distinct shots that show how 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days succeeds so greatly in its second half.

The second shot takes place back in the hotel where Otilia got a room for Gabita to have the abortion. We learn shortly after Otilia arrives from her boyfriend's house that the abortion is complete. Cut to a static shot of the fetus sitting in the bathroom on a towel. We can still here the conversation going on in the main room, but our view does not change. This shot pushes the film into dangerous territory by actually presenting us with that one thing we never see. The intellectual horror of the previously mentioned shot turns into a much more visceral repulsion. This is what was outlawed, and this is what Gabita and Otilia risked so much for. Is it right? I cannot comment on that. I was too busy being astonished by the sheer audacity to show that. I should also point out that the point of view is not detached from a normal person's perspective looking down on a small bloody mess. No, Mungiu doesn't want the audience to get away so easily. He places the camera at floor level giving the fetus its big close-up. The image is immediate and still makes me shudder.

Where the first two of these four shots were very specifically static, the third one is as kinetic (maybe more so) than images from the Bourne Trilogy. Otilia has been tasked with disposing of the fetus (that poor girl has to do everything, doesn't she), and she takes to the streets at night to find an appropriate place to get rid of this little bundle. As she runs through the darkened streets, the cameraman runs with her. This isn't a particularly new thought in the film (the cameraman walks along with Otilia earlier, and we see the shakiness there), but, as before, the intensity is ratcheted up to a whole other level. Now the cameraman is running and can barely control the camera. If the shot had taken place during the day I might have been sick to my stomach. As it is, the darkness saves the shot by shaking black figures against a black background. We are left with the sounds of Otilia panting as she runs around desperately trying to get rid of this fetus. Coming so soon after we witness the fetus, it is necessary that we barely make out the images on the screen, lest someone get sick. The lack of light allows Mungiu to convey just how intense the situation is without making us queasy, which is just what he needs to do.

The fourth shot, the final one of the film, was, at least to me, the most impressive. The ordeal is done; Gabita no longer is pregnant, and Otilia has disposed of the evidence. There is nothing more to do than grab a meal at the restaurant in the lobby of the hotel. As they settle into their seats, they do not speak a word to one another. The waiter comes with specialty menus, since there is a party going on in the other room of the hotel and this is all the kitchen has. Neither Gabita nor Otilia is in a position to complain, and so the camera settles in to watch them from a distance. What originally seems another static shot quickly reveals itself to be slowly pulling away from them. An odd little light appears on the right side of the screen. Slowly more lights begin to appear on the screen and ambient noise of the street rises on the soundtrack. By now it is apparent that the camera is looking from outside the restaurant window. Their story is over. The rest of the world is surrounding us, if only we will look. Otilia turns her head slightly to the left, and she looks straight at the camera. Her face shows the disgust of a woman who had to go through hell, and she is focusing that anger at the viewer. This is the first moment that the fourth wall has been broken, and its impact is immediately felt. In fact, nothing else can be felt, as that is the last image of the film. This shot simultaneously announces the film as a pro-choice film (at least that's how I read it. Who are you to tell that woman she cannot do what she thinks is best for her body?) and ends the film on a perfect note. For all of the film that preceded this moment, Mungiu has tried to make us uncomfortable by putting us in Otilia's place. With this final shot, he makes us uncomfortable by removing us from Otilia's place. We are a part of the rest of the world, and we have to deal with that.

Sundae Monday's Press Announcement

2008-03-24T20:04:00.002-04:00

If you didn't know, R.E.M. has a new album coming out. Said album is supposed to be their best in over a decade, and that news has me very excited. In fact, you can listen to it RIGHT NOW!!! Just click this link and enjoy. I haven't had a chance to listen to it enough to turn in an opinion, but that's not why you come here. This post is about R.E.M.'s single "Supernatural Superserious" and a hilarious press announcement. Let's start with that:

Next is the video for "Supernatural Superserious." If you don't like it, you can make your own by clicking here. You can take the original video footage and edit your own version. This is a wonderful idea, both in getting the audience to interact with what they are consuming and revealing the process behind the creation of a music video like this one. One of the things I noticed about it was how the editing was deliberately not synced to the rhythm of the song. It has become commonplace to use this sort of editing, and it's nice to see a break from the tradition. Enjoy, for tomorrow you shall get new Raconteurs (that they announced last week!?! Jack White, you are one crazy SOB):

I Know Mabuse, And You Sir Are No Mabuse

2008-03-23T15:18:00.003-04:00

The 1,000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse is the sort of film you would get if you let James Cameron direct Terminator 3, which is to say a very well made film that still pales in comparison to its predecessors. Fritz Lang approached the idea of Dr. Mabuse at three times during his career: first as a rising silent film director, second after the immense success of M just before he had to flee Germany, and the third as his final film. The 1,000 Eyes doesn't feel like a final film though. Its technical aspects are as accomplished as they were for The Testament of Dr. Mabuse, though less emphasis is placed on that new fangled sound element. Here, the most distinct feature is the editing, and the viewer can clearly tell that Lang and his editor Walter Wischniewsky are having a lot of fun. Fortunately, the fun isn't limited to them. The cutting on the opening scene hinges on the word "murder," and different scenes are connected by the similarities of sounds. It's entertaining to watch, and saves the film from becoming a bore.

If The Testament of Dr. Mabuse is a commentary on the impending Nazi rise to power, then The 1000 Eyes is all about Cold War paranoia. There are only two major characters who aren't hiding major pieces of their identities (including, strangely enough, the American), but each character only gets one about face. Once the lovably jolly insurance salesman starts noticing things, it's abundantly clear that he's hiding behind a facade. In fact, it's abundantly clear that a twist is coming, but the plot is too full of them to really involve the audience. By the end of the film, I couldn't really tell what the danger was, except that involved a nuclear plant. That's the film's main flaw: it spends too much time in what originally appear to be inanities like the relationship between the American and a suicidal girl. We feel no sense of great danger from this sense of Mabuse because the film is too detached from where the danger is. Similarly, the reasoning behind how some random guy got his hands on the Testament of Dr. Mabuse or how it could have influenced him is not given, leaving us with some random madman with some sort of plan to take over the American's nuclear plant and . . . destroy the world?

This is one place where The Testament is a much better movie. We don't know the extent of the Doctor's plans, but we see that there are people dying and buildings destroyed in this plan. This plan is complete and utter anarchy, and we can clearly see that. The new Mabuse's plan is so vague that it's hard to picture how exactly it will be so destructive. It become a matter of distance. This incarnation of Mabuse is too far from the original, who died at the end of The Testament, and the grand evil plan is too distanced from what we see. Mabuse isn't even responsible for the massive spying system installed in the hotel (damn Nazis). This aspect continues the idea of Cold War paranoia, but it never becomes a significant piece of the story. We can see somebody is watching our hero, but the implications are never addressed.

Perhaps the worst aspect of the film is its pacing. When watching The Testament, it was fun to watch these different story strands slowly coming together. There was a sense of destiny to the plot, a feeling from the very start that things would come together and that it would be exciting to watch. The 1000 Eyes, on the other hand, feels like a collection events tangentially related. There's an American and the girl he saved from suicide (the whole hypnosis aspect is barely mentioned), an insurance man just hanging around, and a police inspector looking into the murder of a television reporter. Only one is even related to the name Mabuse until well over half way into the movie. By that time, I was just hoping the movie would end so I could watch a movie worthy of Lang's talent. Maybe Dr. Mabuse: The Gambler, the movie that started the tale of the good doctor.

Happy St. Patrick's (Sundae Mon)Day

2008-03-17T19:08:00.003-04:00

I would have posted something this week, but I spent the majority of the week "going green" (read: St. Patrick's Day weekend in Ireland). Last week gave me the opportunity to catch Fritz Lang's The 1,000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse, so I should have a review up this week (the short version: well made but still disappointing). In the meantime, it's important to show a little Irish spirit for St. Patrick's Day, but I won't be putting on Dropkick Murphys. Instead, I present the Pogues. Enjoy this one with your Guinness.

Sock It to Sundae Monday

2008-03-10T11:57:00.003-04:00

Sock puppets are making a comeback. For enthusiasts, it has been a long time of watching old Sifl and Olly episodes on YouTube, but now SockTube gives us exactly what we need. SockTube gives us parodies of movies as performed by sock puppets. They have performed all five Best Picture this nominees, and a few from this new year. All of the Best Picture nominees have massive amounts of spoilers, except Michael Clayton, considering nobody appears to have actually seen the movie. Each of these has some amazingly funny moments, but my favorite has to be There Will Be Blood "mousetrap smaller mousetrap bigger mousetrap!").

First, Juno:

There Will Be Blood:

Atonement:

No Country For Old Men:

Michael Clayton:

And now some non-Oscar nominees.

Semi-Pro:

Step Up 2: The Streets:

Butterknife: Bongo Board

2008-03-08T17:36:00.002-05:00

While I'm talking about things in a timely and topical manner, I've decided to go back and start catching up on the Butterknife episodes I haven't written about. At this point, Butterknife has announced itself as a very physical series. Plastic Hassle revolved around people sitting and talking to each other, but Sicilian Style and Key Witness use the physical awkwardness of Ronnie and Mary for great comic effect. This week's episode, in particular the second half with Ronnie and Mary, seems a combination of elements from all three previous episodes. Ronnie and Mary try to balance on the titular board and then talk about Mary's day at the hospital. Though the physical aspects of the episode aren't as funny as Ronnie having to use a 3 point turn to get away from the guy who has confronted him or Mary getting stuck under the bed, they continue to tell more about how close Mary and Ronnie are.

The first half of the episode is unlike anything we've seen before in Butterknife. In fact, the emotional directness of the conversation reminded me of the voiceovers from Eric Rohmer's first two moral tales. If Sean Williams had extended his discussion of how he treats his girlfriend, it could have served as the same sort of obsessive narration as in The Girl at the Monceau Bakery. This sort of discussion is fascinating to watch, especially juxtaposed with the physical nature of the second half of the episode. Though it isn't my favorite episode so far (I don't know if the series will ever quite beat Mary and the bed), this certainly indicates good things for the future of Butterknife.

Vertigo Is Too Good For This

2008-03-04T12:23:00.003-05:00

A year or so ago, AFI updated its 100 Years 100 Movies List. Though personal favorites like Fargo and The Third Man fell off the list, it was a general improvement. The Searchers and City Lights rose into the Top 20. Sunrise and The General made the list. The African Queen and Forrest Gump dropped (though Gump shouldn't be on the damn list). They even put my favorite Hitchcock in the Top 10. I love Vertigo immensely, but should it be in the Top 10? Based on its merits, of course. However, when we consider what this list is meant to do, Vertigo seems much more comfortable in its original place, below Psycho, Rear Window and North By Northwest. Allow me to explain.

This list is a list for beginners. It's for those teenagers who are starting to get into film and want some indication of quality that does not include the Star Wars Trilogy or the LotR Trilogy in their entireties. Any cinephile who knows his/her way around the internet knows that They Shoot Pictures, Don't They? is the ultimate source for generally accepted great movies. But the AFI list wasn't designed by cinephiles for cinephiles. It has decidedly middlebrow tastes (hence the Forrest Gump) with a slight eye for quality (hence the Citizen Kane among others). But if someone with little cinematic experience goes into Vertigo, they may come away with a bad taste in their mouth. After all, Vertigo needs you to understand a few things before you go see it.

As Ed Copeland so eloquently states, a full appreciation of Jimmy Stewart in Hitchcock's films, and particularly Vertigo, depends on a basic understanding of Stewart's collaborations with Frank Capra. Before you watch Vertigo, you should watch either Mr. Smith Goes to Washington or preferably It's a Wonderful Life. Without one or both of these, you can't appreciate just how wonderfully Hitchcock perverts our notions of the Average American Man.

Secondly, Vertigo is often described as Hitchcock's most personal or self-referential film. After all, for the first third of the film, Jimmy Stewart plays a man who stands off in the distance and watches a woman. He, like LB Jeffries before him, is an obvious surrogate as voyeur. However, Vertigo departs from this formula by expanding our knowledge beyond Scottie's and making Judy the audience protagonist. This is utterly shocking, though it takes a better understanding of Hitchcock to understand just why this is so surprising. Hitch's playing with the notion of the Hitchcock Blonde, but that requires knowledge of Hitch and his blonde ambitions. Though any number of Hitchcock films would help satisfy this void, I've always thought Baby's First Hitchcock (TM 2008) should be North By Northwest. It's Hitch's most straightforward thriller, and a good way to introduce a new viewer to some of the usual ideas and techniques Hitch uses in his presentations. Maybe add Rear Window or Notorious, or The Man Who Knew Too Much (either version, really). But a good experience with Vertigo requires much more than just an open mind.

Trust me on this one. I had only one Hitchcock film under my belt the first time (Rear Window, for the record). The experience was not a pleasant one, and I spent a good couple of years convinced that Vertigo was one of the most overrated films I had ever seen. I didn't understand just what Hitch was doing and how carefully he created his world and the overwhelming sense of doom that covers the movie. A second viewing, this time with some Capra and a lot more Hitchcock behind me, it was exceedingly obvious that my first experience was a mistake based on a general lack of knowledge of Hitchcock and understanding of his themes. Vertigo is a film that grows with every viewing, and especially with a greater understanding of what makes a Hitchcock film a Hitchcock Film. Just ask Marianna Martin. She can tell you exactly what comes with a well informed viewing.

Of all the good decisions that the AFI made in their updating, and there were quite a few, this is easily the worst. Someone who approaches this list with a pair of fresh eyes will look for the films at the top of the list, and they will find a deep, complex and challenging film. That film probably won't hit them in the right place, because there is so much more that should be experienced. As much as it hurts me to say it, this is a film that deserves to be much lower on this list. It is too good a film for its position.

Give the Sundae Monday Toys

2008-03-03T12:04:00.003-05:00

Before I go into this week's Sundae Monday and catch up with a few weeks of Butterknife, I just want to point out yet another site you need to read on a regular basis. You may know about Garfield Minus Garfield, but if you don't, it's a blog devoted to removing Garfield from the normal Garfield cartoons. The results are slightly creepy but completely hilarious. An example:

I've been thinking about Sarah Silverman and Jimmy Kimmel and the "I'm F*cking [insert Goodwill Hunting star here]" videos that have stormed the internet (no swearing until it comes out uncensored). I was going to write about the problems I have with Kimmel's response video, primarily stemming from the reliance on 80's nostalgia (the presence of Joan Jett and Huey Lewis does not make Kimmel some kind of genius), but I got lost on YouTube watching Sarah Silverman videos. Silverman has a definite schtick, and if you're on that wavelength, then few comics today are funnier than her. If she's the kind of person you don't like, well then you should probably skip this Sundae Monday.

For the record, NSFW. You've been warned.

First, Sarah speaks for all the good little Jews out there who wonder why Santa has forsaken them:

Next, Sarah loves a bit of gorganzola:

Sarah wasn't just in The Aristocrats, she was an Aristocrat:

Sarah doesn't understand Jews driving German cars:

Sarah Visits the Elderly!

Finally, Sarah gets serious:

Ma-bu-se

2008-02-26T16:16:00.008-05:00

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse is the sort of film that deserves, if not a critical reappraisal (does anyone actually dislike it?), then at least a rediscovery. Fritz Lang's follow-up to M follows similar themes using similar techniques on a much grander scale. Though this is accurate, I'm afraid it will make Mabuse look like the Casino to M's Goodfellas. Mabuse is a masterpiece, every bit the equal of M. Lang refines his use of sound to make far greater statements than simply suggesting the presence of evil.

M was unique for presenting a number of undeveloped characters surrounding Peter Lorre's Hans Beckert. The only character we knew there was Becker, making him, a child murderer, the audience surrogate by the film's end. Mabuse works in a completely opposite manner, giving us numerous protagonists surrounding a barely developed central villain. We primarily follow Tom Kent (Gustav Diessl) and Inspector Lohmann (Otto Wernicke, reprising his role from M) as the former works within Mabuse's criminal organization and the latter works to investigate why an informant (Karl Meixner) has gone insane. Tom eventually refuses to commit murder for the organization, leading to a direct conversation with Mabuse, literally the man behind the curtain. Here is where Lang's film goes from being a well-crafted thriller to flat out masterpiece.

This is the second film Lang made in the sound era, and it continues his fascination with the new technology. In M, Lang used sound, specifically a whistle of "In the Hall of the Mountain King", to signify the presence of a murderer we didn't even need to see to fear. In Mabuse, Lang uses sound to hide criminal activity we can see. The opening scene, which features the above mentioned police informant in a counterfeiting factory, is covered with the sound of machines running. As such, the action on screen is acted silently, both adding suspense and commenting on how simultaneously useful and useless this new technology really was. Similarly, a key moment in the film, the murder of a doctor who is about to reveal the true identity of the criminal mastermind, the henchmen sent to kill him use the sound of car horns to cover the sound of a gun. Sound here masks the evil in a reversal of Lang's tactics in M. But Lang saves his most potent commentary for the revelation of Mabuse. In fact, he plays with the techniques he developed in M to play tricks on the audience. In M, we know there is a murderer there without seeing him because of his whistle. There is no killer in Mabuse, only the whistle. The revelation is still shocking today, and it sets up an "anything goes" dynamic for the rest of the film.

Being an international film from the 30s does wonders for helping the tension of the ending. It is an international film, so the good doctor may yet get away, but it was made during a time we associate with moral uprightness, so the good guys might prevail. Were this made in Hollywood, we would have no doubt that the doctor would be vanquished and order restored to the world. If it were made today, the doctor would lord over the ending like Noah Cross. Its setting is perfect for its unpredictability, though the film hardly needs you to know its setting to be thrilling. Mabuse is the perfect sort of genre film: technically perfect, ambitious, and willing to play off of the viewers' expectations to make things more thrilling.

Sundae Monday Laughed So Hard It Cried

2008-02-25T00:51:00.003-05:00

I did. Jon Stewart's opening monologue made me laugh so hard I cried. And hey. I was right about Elizabeth. The Lesson? If a movie exists solely as a fashion show, and it gets nominated for Best Costume Design, it will win.

Atonement: the movie that showed off the raw sensuality of Yom Kippur (I'm still chuckling)...

Sick of the Oscars

2008-02-24T12:33:00.001-05:00

Yeah, I said it. I'm not sick of the Oscars, merely the buzz that has consumed online media. I was going to post my predictions (the only really original idea I have is Elizabeth: The Golden Age for Best Costumes the same way Marie Antoinette won last year), but I simply got overwhelmed by this post at The House Next Door. So much to parse, so little new to be said. This past week has been nothing but build-up. With primary season hinging on March 4 and Oscar season ending tonight, nothing significant has happened recently (scratch that. Nader's in to screw over the Democrats once again!); speculation reigns with an iron fist. Of course I'll be watching the Oscars tonight (I don't live blog. There are enough of those already), but if you need me, you can find my attentions shifted to The Testament of Dr. Mabuse or Jia Zhang-Ke.

The Backlash to the Backlash to the Backlash

2008-02-18T15:59:00.004-05:00

Juno is a difficult creature to approach, if only because so much has been written about it that it is impossible to go into it without some sort of predisposition. I make no pretenses about this: I went in with the attitude that I would find something to grapple with on an intellectual level. I decided beforehand that, no matter how it worked on an emotional level, I would find something positive to say about it on a more technical level. I came out with comparisons to Ken Loach and Alfred Hitchcock. Allow me to explain.

Juno is told squarely from the perspective of the titular protagonist. As such, the film matures as our heroine comes of age. The early scenes with Rainn Wilson's drug store clerk and Olivia Thirlby's Leah give way to scenes with more mature and less quippy characters like Jennifer Garner's Vanessa and JK Simmons' Mac. The beginning is deliberately off-putting as we become accustomed to this world. The quippy nature of the dialogue early in the film reminded me in a way of the beginning of Ken Loach's The Wind That Shakes the Barley. At the beginning of Barley, the characters speak with very thick Irish accents. In fact, the accents were so thick that I had trouble understanding what the characters were saying. As the film progressed, however, the accents faded towards more generic British accents, as the contested area of Northern Ireland became more British and less Irish. In both cases, the dialogue is deliberately off-putting as we enter a world that we are initially unfamiliar with. As the films progress, we become more accustomed to this world, but the situations also move closer to what we consider normal. In this way, Diablo Cody's annoyingly quirky dialogue fades to serious discussion of the pregnancy as Juno slowly grows out of her hipster persona.

Juno doesn't completely grow out of the persona, probably because she is surrounded by people who are or were hipsters. In Hitchcock's Rear Window, L.B. Jeffries and Lisa Fremont look out their window and see various images of themselves in the present and future. There are the newlyweds who barely leave the house, the social bachelor and his flirtatious female counterpart, the old maid, and the unhappily married Thorwalds. Each of these images play as potential situations for Jeff and Lisa to follow in their relationship. Similarly, Juno is faced with a number of options as a maturing hipster. Rainn Wilson's character of the drug store clerk is the defiant hipster. He won't sell out to The Man, and he quips just as much, if not more, than Juno. If Juno wants to stay just as she is, she will become the clerk, immature but more clever than everyone else. But nobody wants that.

Juno's dad, as played by JK Simmons, is a more ideal possibility. You can just tell by listening to him that Juno inherited her smart mouth from him. The nicknames he gives to his daughters (June Bug and Liberty Bell) show a spark that has, for the most part, faded into civil domestic life. He has given up parts of his hipsterdom, and in return he has a happy marriage of over a decade and a nice suburban family. He chooses his own road, but he knows how the game must be played.

Mark, as played by Jason Bateman, is a hipster posing as a normal guy. He's unhappily married to a yuppie, though he maintains his independence through his Herschel Gordon Lewis VHS tapes and his guitars. Though he originally finds himself happy in his marriage, Juno awakes his inner hipster, and he suddenly wants out. The film views the character turn negatively, as we find ourselves aligned with Juno is asking "Why are you doing this, you douche?" He is ultimately just another selfish hipster who is afraid of responsibility. He remains a possibility for Juno's future, even as Juno decides she doesn't want anything to do with him.

The most interesting possibility comes from Vanessa. The only reason I consider her in this is because of the first scene where we see her without Juno. As Vanessa and Mark decide on the color of the baby's room, we see Vanessa wearing a vintage Alice in Chains tee shirt. Though this could suggest any number of things, such as that she has raided Mark's closet for useless clothes while she paints, I would like to believe that this hints at a more lively past than we would otherwise envision for Vanessa. She, like the drug store clerk, is a negative possibility in the other direction. She is a former hipster who moved to the opposite side of the field when she decided that the hipster life wasn't for her. Though she eventually warms to Juno (or do we just warm to her?), she maintains that yuppie sensibility that plays as the exact opposite of Mark's hipsterism.

Juno is surrounded by these possibilities. By connecting with Paulie Bleeker, she seems to grow up and choose the same path as her father before her. But she's not completely grown up, and neither is the film. The romantic duet of "Anyone Else But You" is a more mature gesture than Juno would have made at the beginning of the film, but she is still singing a hipster indie song with Paulie. And just to remind us, in a very Hitchcock way, Jason Reitman gives us the track team running through the final scene. Continually used as a punchline, the track team is one of the most distinctively hipster elements of the film, as we are meant to scoff at their ridiculous uniforms. By inserting them into the final shot, Reitman reminds the viewer that though our heroine has matured, the rest of the world isn't quite as mature.

Juno didn't really connect with me. I found the strings trying to pull on my heartstrings too visible. Is it one of the best of the year? Not in a year when the sublime The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford gets little recognition. However, as teen romantic comedies go, this one has a lot more to it than the quips. It's a film easier to appreciate than really like, if only more people could appreciate its depth.

Butterknife Monday: Key Witness

2008-02-11T19:48:00.000-05:00

This week featured a very different episode of Butterknife than we're used to. This is the first we hear of Ronald's job as a profession for which he is paid, this is the first we see of any contact outside of his wife and his job, and this is the first time we have a scene featuring Mary without Ronald. Each of these makes for interesting viewing, yet it's Mary getting stuck under the bed that resonates. In fact, both segments which revolve around Ronald's non-professional life are more directly relatable than those of previous episodes. Who hasn't felt silently judged when reading in public? Maybe only the neurotics. Mary getting stuck under the bed is the funniest scene yet produced for the series, and the image of Ronald and Mary's feet hanging over the bed is a wonderful image to close the episode.

I've Abandoned My Boy

2008-02-09T11:05:00.001-05:00

I was surprised to find that the following clip is online. It contains easily the best acting of 2007, and it is the reason that Daniel Day-Lewis should win the Oscar. This scene, which also perfectly sets up the finale of There Will Be Blood, reveals a great deal about Daniel Plainview and his personality. We watch as he at first resists his conversion, then accepts it in the hopes that it will be over soon. He reacts with anger to Eli as he shouts "I've abandoned my son," and he seems like he might cry as he wails "I've abandoned my boy." These emotions are able to present themselves simultaneously in Day-Lewis' performance. Even in the moments before, when Bandy holds out Plainview's flask, his look shows hatred for the bottle that has put him in this situation and yearning to escape via that same bottle. This isn't the showy acting that so many complain about at the end of There Will Be Blood. This is solid lived-in acting, the sort that deserves awards but usually doesn't win them. Of course, Plainview gets the last word in this scene with his hilarious "Yes I do." This is a marvel of acting.

Butterknife Monday: Sicilian Style

2008-02-04T19:36:00.000-05:00

This week's episode of Butterknife, "Sicilian Style" is a great improvement over last week's "Plastic Hassle". The episode begins with Ronald getting someone's address, and his cleverness proves a nice counterbalance to the inanity of last week's set-up. I can only hope that as the series progresses, an overarching plot can develop. Though the time we spend with Ronald and Mary is certainly captivating, it would be nice to tie Ronald's professional life with a purpose. It's interesting to see how Joe Swanberg and company show the minutiae of his job without any real purpose, but it feels aimless at this point. If we maybe saw someone who hires Ronald or if we get a real sense that his job has a point, then the series would become must see material. As it is, the show's improving, but it still has some way to go.

Color Me Beautiful

2008-02-02T10:28:00.000-05:00

This is a contribution to the Deeply Superficial Blog-A-Thon over at South Dakota Dark. If you have little to no interest in anything deep concerning your media, head over there. It's so much fun to be shallow!

It's one of the eternal questions for any good movie watcher. Color or black and white? Orson Welles once said that black and white is an actor's best friend, and after thinking about it for a while, I agreed. An actor in a black and white movie just looks better than an actor in a color movie. Look at Ingrid Bergman:

Can you even make a comparison there? Faces are what Hollywood was built on. In Norma Desmond's day, they didn't need dialogue. They had faces! Can you name me one actor who looks better in color than black and white? (Well, besides Paul Newman. Those blue eyes are dreamy...) Where are the indelible faces of the color era? No, color has the landscapes. Just think of John Wayne in Stagecoach and The Searchers. Take a look at these examples:

Both of these scenes show the introduction of John Wayne's character, and he dominates both scenes. However, you can't help but wonder at the Ringo Kid's face in Stagecoach. And The Searchers? His face isn't nearly as striking. But that doesn't mean color has no advantages.

Color allows for the beauty of the world around us. It can be used to surreal effect as in this scene from Vertigo:

It's hauntingly beautiful. Color can also lend atmosphere to a period piece, such as in Once Upon a Time in America:

It's as if we're watching an old photograph tell its story. And then of course there's this:

That you just can't get from a black and white film.

So what say you? Color or Black and White? Faces or everything around them? What's your preference?

Butterknife Monday

2008-01-28T18:42:00.001-05:00

For those of you who don't know, today is the premiere of the first episode of Butterknife, Joe Swanberg's latest web series over at Spout. It stars Ronald Bronstein of Frownland fame and his wife Mary. If this first episode is any indication, then things will certainly be interesting. I say interesting because it's not quite good, but it's on its way there. It's nice to see a domestic life of a private eye not in ruins, and real interaction between a husband and wife. Instead of only seeing things from our the perspective of our unnamed hero (Ronald), we hear about Mary's day working with children at a hospital. In fact, even though Ronald is the main protagonist, we barely see from his perspective. On the contrary, we see everyone's perspective of him. Every time that he has a conversation with someone, we see Ronald almost head on, which almost makes it seem as if he's addressing the camera. The fact that he never directly addresses the camera adds a feel of a documentary to the proceedings, as if this is a talking head commentary on his everyday life. It certainly has me intrigued.

I was thinking of making Sundae Monday into Butterknife Monday as long as it's running, with video goodness interspersed throughout the rest of the week. Is that a good idea, or should I simply let chaos reign over Mondays?

BUTTERKNIFE 1: Plastic Hassle

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RIP Heath Ledger

2008-01-22T18:14:00.000-05:00

In lieu of a Sundae Monday post this week, I (along with everyone else within reach of a computer) would like to mention the news that Heath Ledger has passed away. Some will say they are sad because we will not have him there to deliver characters as rich as Ennis del Mar to the screen. I won't say that because its selfish. We shouldn't wish him not dead so that we can enjoy him more. Now that his time has come, we must appreciate what he gave the world.

The Best of 2007

2008-01-15T05:54:00.001-05:00

I haven't seen enough to give anything close to a Top 10 list for the past year in film. Life often intervenes too heavily, and spending the final 4 months in England, where a movie ticket normally costs $18, didn't help anything. The one major advantage to England was the University Library, through which I've been slowly exposing myself to classics. Add in my new-found love of television and you end up with films I've seen in a theater that I could count on my two hands. I don't mean this as an excuse, only some information before you go biting my head off for not having seen Michael Clayton or Juno, among others.

Honestly, I've been surprised by a number of Top 10 lists I've seen. They don't include the one movie of 2007 that was undeniably perfect. That doesn't mean I would have it on the top of my list, but it's saddening that people feel the need to relegate Ratatouille to the subcategory of animation. I know it seems unfair to say this after it has received so much attention, even placing in the Top 20 of the Indiewire Critics Poll. However, it is the sort of masterly film that deserves our attention as a well produced genre film that we are happy to give a film like Eastern Promises.

Its technical precision is every bit the equal of a film like There Will Be Blood. Those two movies just serve different purposes. There Will Be Blood dares us not to like it. It gives us a protagonist who hates mankind, and it has what may end up as the most bizarre ending of the year. This is catnip to critics, who love to think beyond the box yet simply end up in a different one. Ratatouille is a perfect commercial movie. It gives us a likable underdog hero who only wishes to follow his heart, no matter who stands in his way. Nevermind the fact that it challenges the audience by giving us a hero who cannot speak for the majority of the movie, we are immediately drawn in by Brad Bird's visuals and only later seduced by the all too human characters of Remy and Linguini. Ratatouille also has the distinct ability to mask its actors. By using the voices of Patton Oswalt, Brad Garrett, Will Arnet, and Janeane Garofalo, we get a veritable buffet of comic actors at the top of their game who can sink into their roles without being recognized. Why don't they get as much praise as Daniel Day-Lewis? Probably because Day-Lewis is magnificent until the final act, where he hams it up and stamps his name on the Oscar. He claims the film for his own, while Oswalt and company relinquish control to Brad Bird, who continues to prove that, despite mistakes like Cars, Pixar is moving in the right direction.

I don't mean to say that There Will Be Blood is bad (it's not), merely to point out that there are more commercial films that deserve as much praise as those we love that lay just outside the norm. Critics love There Will Be Blood because it's a film for critics to love. It's challenging and well-made. I could only wish there were more films today with its audacity. But in praising these sorts of films, along with Zodiac and the ending of No Country for Old Men, don't critics forget that there are praiseworthy films which are simply well crafted movies that follow the rules? Where's the praise for Gone Baby Gone? Have people already forgotten Planet Terror in their rush to hail Death Proof as yet another Tarantino masterpiece? It seems a film these days is hated by critics if it plays by the rules, even if it does a good job within those rules. Must we hate Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix because it ends with a major confrontation and pyrotechnics, even though it makes its showdown is much more interesting and effective than either of Chris Columbus' movies? Where's the love for Hairspray? It was a toe tapping musical and has generally been accepted as a first step towards accepting Adam Shankman as a good director. Why doesn't it get on people's Top 10 lists?

There has been a movement away from films which satisfy the audience. Is this a symptom of films in a post-9/11 world, as so many are eager to point out? Or is it a symptom of critics who don't want to be satisfied? Critics don't merely highlight the films they like. They point readers in the direction of films they think deserve attention. Harry Potter doesn't need the critics' attention. We know it's coming out, and for the most part we know what to expect. But in the clutter of the three-quels and the Transformers of the world, we need someone pointing us to Rescue Dawn or 1408. However, instead of giving a list, I only give one movie. My favorite of 2007.* A musical that's qualified to satisfy.

Romance and Cigarettes is a wonder to behold. Watch the following clip:

As it comes in the film, "A Man Without Love" is the culmination of everything that has come before it. We've already heard the song playing on Nick's car stereo, and Kitty, Nick's wife, has just confronted him with his affair. Now that he feels the pain of the song, he begins singing. This is where the movie reveals its genius. Instead of immediately joining Nick's singing with Englebert Humperdinck on the soundtrack, we are reminded of how alone Nick really is. These two lines before it become karaoke also reveal the mechanics behind the film. We must remember that behind the original version is a person actually singing the song. These are real people with real emotions. That wasn't conveyed more beautifully this year than in those two lines.

The storyline is conventional without adhering too closely to cliches. Nick eventually ends the affair, but he doesn't win back Kitty. This isn't a happy ending, but the film isn't going for that. Its combination of surreal musical numbers with astute melodrama combine to tell a true to life story. I might even go so far as to say that the musical numbers heighten the reality of the drama by portraying what these people think about their situation. Is there any song more appropriate for Kitty's heartbreak than Janis Joplin's "Piece of my Heart"? Why do we need words to express how we feel when these songs have done that job already? John Turturro taps into this idea wonderfully, simultaneously revealing the pop culture subtext to our everyday lives and adding depth to the characters by revealing their true feelings. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for Christopher Walken saying "With other chicks, I'm Barry White. I go to the meat market!"

Romance and Cigarettes is not a traditional movie musical in the way of Hairspray or Sweeney Todd, yet it doesn't force us to question the concept of the musical, as Once did. It was too small to make any true impact, and I find that disappointing. It uses a fairly standard melodramatic premise to better examine the lives we lead and the characters we make ourselves. Christopher Walken's character, Cousin Bo, is ridiculously over the top. He isn't a realistic character by any stretch of the imagination. And yet, in this way, he is real. We all know someone who is too far out there to begin to describe. Bo is the embodiment of that person we all know. In a world full of normal, down to Earth people, we need Bo to remind us that there are people like that.

We need more simple, well-constructed genre movies as much as we need gonzo auteurs like Paul Thomas Anderson and David Lynch. That is my great hope for 2008, that we can see more great films which are satisfying and well made. That, and world peace.

*I have decided not to count Silent Light as it is coming out in America in 2008. When it does come out, you can be sure I will be first in line for a ticket and shouting about it on this blog.

Sundae Monday Liked the Golden Globes

2008-01-12T11:37:00.000-05:00

Maybe it was exhaustion from watching not one but two major upsets on Sunday. Maybe it was an extended hangover from the thrill of staying up til 4:30 in the morning to watch my beloved Pats make the Jacksonville Jaguars (the one team nobody wanted to play in the playoffs) look like any other team. Maybe it was because I stayed up til 2 in the morning to watch the damn Globes, but I liked them. It gave me the information I wanted without needing to wait 3 hours to get it. The banter wasn't exactly the greatest, but this was a rush job. Would you honestly rather have had 3 hours of random celebrities making jokes even worse than Billy Bush did? Don't answer that. And honestly, I'm much more excited about the TV winners than the film winners. (Go Mad Men! Go 30 Rock! Go Billy Bush for telling people they should watch 30 Rock!) The only downside to the Globes this year is the possibility that the Oscars may follow the same path. I need my random Errol Morris short films about movies!

Sundae Monday Hates the iPhone

2008-01-07T05:04:00.000-05:00

I haven't talked about David Lynch much lately. Too many movies this year, not enough reviewings of INLAND EMPIRE. I guess that happens sometimes. But much as he won everyone over last year by hanging out with a cow. Now he comes back with his thoughts on the iPhone, amusingly edited as if it were an iPhone commercial. Though you have to give credit to the man. He's right on the money with this one.

My Milkshake Brings All the Boys to the Yard

2008-01-05T12:21:00.000-05:00

This post will not have spoilers for There Will Be Blood. It will discuss the ending in vague terms, but will not discuss specifics, unless you count a setting too specific for you.

If you have a computer, an internet connection, and a vague interest in movies (and I'm assuming that since you're reading this then all three apply), then you couldn't help notice all the attention paid to PT Anderson's There Will Be Blood and its completely insane ending. Along with No Country for Old Men, The Sopranos, Zodiac (to mention only the popularly mentioned titles), Blood has made 2007 a year for unsatisfying endings. This undoubtedly frustrates some, but for others it shows directors willing to challenge their audience with the unexpected. Whether you like it or not, you must admit that Blood's final scene is utterly compelling, primarily due to Daniel Day-Lewis' utterly over-the-top performance. I personally think the ending fits very well.

The film reflects Daniel Plainview's life and his outlook. It begins without words, with silent gestures and Jonny Greenwood's wailing score to underline how Daniel Plainview's life truly begins. Next Plainview is a well-spoken child lying to his parents (the Sunday family) for a front on his allowance. As the film goes on, Plainview becomes more vocal in his hatred for those around him, like a teenager discovering how cruel the world can be. He grows more cantankerous, and the film starts to see everyone the way he does. Our trust of Plainview's half-brother dissolves throughout his appearance in the film, and the late introduction to Bandy immediately invokes our hatred. Characters introduced later and later in the film are increasingly despicable, and even our view of H.W. is soured. Paranoia creeps over the whole film as it does a man like Daniel Plainview, and madness settles in.

It's clear that the final interaction is Plainview's last hurrah. An old man shut in his house for fear and hatred of all other people, he has no glory left. His days of towering above everything else on the plains are numbered. Now, lying asleep on a bowling alley, there is nothing left for him. When he utters the final words of the film, "I'm finished," there is a melancholy there of a man recognizing that there is nothing more to his life. And so, just as the film opens with Plainview's discovery of oil, the true beginning of his life, it ends with the recognition that the world has no more use for him. His life might as well be over.

The fact that the film's final scene takes place in a bowling alley seems to have drawn a number of people to think that the Coen Brothers' The Big Lebowski makes for an appropriate way of viewing this scene. My impression based on its location is probably closer to that of Armond White. Though he barely mentions Altman's Secret Honor in his review, and with no relation to the final scene, I found myself thinking of Richard Nixon, who had a bowling alley installed in the basement of the White House. This is by no means a well thought out theory, but it's simply another thought to add to the piles that have written about the movie. The location helps to make the film feel significantly more modern than it had up to that point, and the inadvertent Nixon reference only adds to that feeling. This modernity also helps lend a timeless nature to the character of Daniel Plainview. His sort of success that breeds paranoia and madness isn't new (most notably Citizen Kane), and it will never grow old. But the Nixon connection also takes the film in unexpected directions. After all, we now have Plainview connected to the President. Kane was defeated in the run for governor, and even Noah Cross appears like an outside force using money to control the system. But here Plainview is the system. That is a scary thought, and it makes There Will Be Blood even more intriguing.

Sundae New Year's Eve

2007-12-31T18:12:00.000-05:00

In 6 hours it will be 2008. I haven't seen nearly enough films to actually compile a Top 10, though I can tell you right now that the numbers 1 & 2 (I'm not sure of which is in which position) are Carlos Reygadas' Silent Light and John Turturro's Romance and Cigarettes. Reygadas may be the most spiritual filmmaker working today, and Turturro has an incredible eye for depth within his frame.

On this, the last Sundae Monday of 2007, I look both backward and forward. In honor of Time's Man of the Year, I present this:

And then my look ahead is at my most anticipated film of 2008:

I have watched this trailer dozens of times and it never fails to amaze and excite me. I especially love the prevalent duality that I'm sure will make the film at least worth watching. Happy 2008!

Sundae Boxing Day

2007-12-26T18:57:00.000-05:00

In honor of Boxing Day, I present the greatest boxing scene in cinema history. Enjoy this with your servants, who you have given the day off.

It's a Wonderful Sundae Monday

2007-12-18T23:47:00.000-05:00

As a last little bit for my It's a Wonderful Blog-A-Thon. First, I would like to thank everyone who participated and everyone who read. Second, a Blooper Reel!

It's a Wonderful Blog-A-Thon

2007-12-16T03:01:00.004-05:00

Welcome, folks, to the It's a Wonderful Blog-A-Thon. There will be posts throughout the day on my various takes on the cinematic "classic" It's a Wonderful Life. I happen to think it's overrated, and I will spend my posts attempting do deconstruct various aspects that annoy me about the film, including a more feminist perspective on the world without George Bailey and a look at various inconsistencies which tug at the string that hold It's a Wonderful Life together. This post will be updated throughout the day with posts from all over the internet. If you wish to contribute, simply write a piece and let me know either by commenting on this post or by emailing me at deisenberg@gmail.com. Enjoy the reading.

Jacqueline over at Another Old Movie Blog writes about George and the housing crisis.

I examine Mary in the world without George.

M.A. Peel looks at how angry George can get.

Weepingsam at The Listening Ear gives a wonderful defense and analysis of the film.

It's a Logical Life

2007-12-16T03:01:00.003-05:00

This a contribution to the It's a Wonderful Blog-A-Thon. Enjoy.

This may just be me, but some things about the logic of movies bothers me. People doing stupid things annoy me to no end, though I've been working on that to great success. However, if a film's internal logic breaks down and we're supposed to simply accept it, I find myself questioning what happened.

At the beginning of It's a Wonderful Life, Clarence is called upon by higher angels. He is told that George Bailey will throw away God's greatest gift at 10:45 Earth time. Clarence remarks that this gives them 1 hour to be properly introduced to George Bailey (and yet Clarence is George's Guardian Angel? Sounds a bit fishy). Given the blurry introduction and pause later in the film, it is clear that we see things from Clarence's perspective. Clarence may see more, but there is nothing we see that Clarence does not see. Clear? Ok, jump 75 minutes into the movie and we get to the day in question, when George will attempt suicide. I wouldn't question something like this except it sorta plays as a MAJOR PLOT POINT! Considering how much time is given to the romance of George and Mary, this problem ends up significant. I can appreciate time condensed with the magic of editing. A man's life is summed up in 75 minutes. However, you can't make the 75 minutes it takes to tell the story take 60 minutes. In this light, the romance of George and Mary, a very impressive screen romance, seems unnecessary or frivolous. A man's life is in danger, yet the only being who can save him is delayed by learning about how George met his wife?

I don't get Nick. Nick is the bartender at Martini's bar, and in the world without George, he owns said bar instead of Martini. He is a gruff character, and without question he throws Mr. Welch out of Martini's bar. We don't know anything about Mr. Welch. He could come to the bar everyday after work, yet Martini doesn't care. But we're not supposed to question this. In the world without George, Mick throws Mr. Gower out for panhandling and George for just being strange. Nick is supposed to come off as cruel here, indicative of the world of Pottersville. Yet there is nothing here that seems different about Nick. In this case, the world is no different with or without George, yet we are supposed to think the world is different. There is little doubt that Nick would throw a stranger out of Martini's bar is they acted as strangely as George in Nick's bar. Why is this supposed to be so shocking?

Wanna Play Old Maid?

2007-12-16T03:01:00.001-05:00

This is my first entry to the It's a Wonderful Blog-A-Thon. Enjoy.

The world without George Bailey is inherently inferior world. Mr. Potter owns the town, Mr. Martini cannot his house and bar, and Ma Bailey is an old maid with a boarding house. George witnesses all of this first hand. Uncle Billy is in an insane asylum. Surely this is the worst thing that has happened on a personal level, right? This should be the thing that George shouldn't want to hear. His beloved, lovably goofy uncle has been driven to insanity.

And yet there is one thing that Clarence doesn't want George to know about the world without him. It's about his wife, Mary. You see, without him, she's an *GASP* old maid. This is something that George simply cannot take. The question becomes, why is this the worst thing that can happen to Mary? The beginning of the romance was an uphill battle for George. Sam Wainwright was, as has been mentioned multiple times in the first hour of the film, very interested in Mary. Mary's mother was very excited about Sam. Couldn't Mary be married to Sam?

That is one of the keys to my disappointment with It's a Wonderful Life. The world without George Bailey is exaggerated to such a crude extent that it loses all meaning. It also refuses to show anything truly horrible. We never see Potter reveling in his wealth. We never see Uncle Billy in the madhouse. We only see Mary without a husband. There is nothing more horrible here than a wifeless woman. This is an example of Frank Capra's candy-coated worldview, and in this case it fails.

Capra likes to paint a sympathetic view of America, showing the small towns as idyllic places where the people in communities help themselves and each other. Often this look at American is entertaining. It gives people like Henry Fonda and James Stewart an opportunity to charm audiences and it makes for simple entertainment. It's certainly a pleasant way to spend 2 hours. But when everything turns sour, the sugar sweet world just tastes wrong. George Bailey's life is useful, of course, but he doesn't need the stability of the world to show that. Mary doesn't need to be an old maid if she doesn't have George. But Capra makes her that way, and that's just not fair.

The Sundae Monday Holiday Special

2007-12-11T16:21:00.000-05:00

Real life has taken over, leaving my poor blog to suffer. And at the worst time too, what with this It's a Wonderful Blog-A-Thon coming up THIS SUNDAY!!! My how time flies. But alas, I've been up to my ears in Huguenots and Roman elegies, with barely time to watch movies (expect a post on Silent Light in the relatively near future. It's too good to be left unpraised).

I hope you're feeling that holiday spirit. I know I am. Decorations have been coming up and my resistance to all things Christmas has been falling down (well, except the massive commercialization part). With Chanukah ending tonight, it's important to remember that there's more than just Christmas out there. I hope you take a moment to remember the ever important Life Day ceremonies going on all across the galaxy right now...

Moronic

2007-11-30T18:20:00.001-05:00

I've seen a lot of movies in the past two months, and amazingly, the one that has most stuck with me is Lars von Trier's The Idiots. I'm still trying to decide whether or not that means the movie's actually any good.

Aping a documentary style, The Idiots tells the tale of a woman (Bodil Jorgensen) who abandons her normal life to live with a commune of people who spend their time trying to find their "inner idiot." Jorgensen's character, Karen, only dominates the action at the beginning and end of the film, leaving the middle to the Idiots and their pranks. Their leader is Stoffer (Jens Albinus), a man utterly shameless in his childishness.

Stoffer is the key to understanding The Idiots, right down to his name. We learn at one point that his full name is Christopher, but he has shortened it to Stoffer instead of Chris. This backwards mentality dominates the film, right down to its style. If von Trier had used the same style as in Festen, the first Dogmen film, the subject matter would have clashed with the aesthetics, creating a giant mess.

Thomas Vinterberg made a very traditional movie with Festen, even though he followed the Vow of Chastity to the letter. von Trier, on the other hand, made a film that challenged traditional realistic filmmaking. It confronted the audience with its falsity by claiming some semblance of truth. The hand-held camera automatically gives the viewer the feeling of actually being there to witness the events on screen. von Trier goes a step further with the documentary angle by forcing us to realize that we are not mere flies on the wall. The camera is a real presence, and these are people reacting to it. Instead of a more realistic feeling, which should naturally come from Dogme's rules, we are more detached than ever.

This sort of anti-logic extends throughout the story. The only person who actually commits to the Idiots' philosophy is the one who should have no part in their actions. The leader is a coward, afraid to act like an Idiot before his family and friends. There is an entirely unexciting orgy, shown in all its graphic glory, yet the only true moment of sexuality features both participants fully clothed. Nothing is what it seems, and the most sympathetic characters change all too quickly. von Trier turns everything on its head, leaving the audience baffled and abused. Is that a good thing? Who knows, but it makes for some fascinating cinema.

Black Sundae Monday

2007-11-26T19:03:00.000-05:00

This past week marked one of the most important dates on the calendar. That's right, Black Friday has come and gone again. The official start of Christmas Season (I still saw chocolate Santas out before Halloween, sadly), Black Friday is a magical time when half the radio stations in America begin playing 24 hour Christmas music, the supermarkets start stocking egg nog, and I start growing my traditional Chanukah shrub. As I am currently in England, I didn't get a chance to properly participate in the most important part of the Black Friday celebration. I hope you did.

The Art of Documentary?

2007-11-25T09:39:00.000-05:00

I guess it's only appropriate that the week when this year's Oscar documentary shortlist was released and heavily criticized is the week when I finally got to catch up with the Academy's best doc of 2003. The Fog of War is an undeniably intriguing look at Robert McNamara and his role in WWII and the Vietnam War. Was it the best documentary of the year? Possibly. I personally preferred Spellbound, but that matter is entirely up for debate. What I want to know is: what makes a good documentary?

As I read AJ Schnack's passionate attack on the Academy's choices, I was forced to confront my own knowledge (or lack thereof) concerning the art of documentary filmmaking. I barely know any history of documentary and the Academy, but Schanack, who is at this point the de facto online source for documentary info, talks about the 90s as a dark era when the only docs even nominated had to be about the Holocaust. Of course, I'm exaggerating Schnack's thoughts, but his recent post talks about a return to the Bad Old Days, which of course indicates that the Old Days were indeed bad. And then there's the matter of Errol Morris and Michael Moore.

These men were, until 2002, routinely overlooked by the Academy for their "groundbreaking" documentaries. I put quotes around groundbreaking because I haven't seen a Morris film besides The Fog of War, and even if I had, I wouldn't know what makes it groundbreaking. I've seen multiple people talk about Morris' aesthetics as new and original for documentary, but there has never been any proof. Is there a book on Morris or Moore that could help explain what makes these men such legends in their field? Are there any essays that help explain their place in documentary history and their accomplishments? Of course I plan to see Roger and Me and The Thin Blue Line, but until I get that chance, I would like to know where I can inform myself and be able to participate in any discussions on docs. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Sundae Monday Kurosawa Style

2007-11-19T18:56:00.000-05:00

Part 3 of my contribution to the Kurosaw-a-Thon over at filmsquish.com The list keeps growing over there. Well worth a look.

It seems to be very popular now for major film directors to make commercials. From Wes Anderson to Michel Gondry to Michael Mann to David Lynch, directors love adding a unique touch to the world of commercials. And wouldn't you know, Akira Kurosawa did a few commercials too. During the making of Kagemusha, Kurosawa made these ads for Suntory Reserve. Each one features Kurosawa, and a few show off the presence of Francis Ford Coppola on the set. My personal favorite is the fourth one, the one with the least voice-over. Enjoy.

Rashomon

2007-11-18T14:05:00.000-05:00

This is the second half of my contribution to the Kurosaw-a-Thon over at filmsquish.com. Lots of good reading over at the hub. You should check it out.

This is the second story upon which Kurosawa's Rashomon is based. You can read the first one, "In a Grove," here. Enjoy

"Rashomon" by Ryunosuke Akutagawa

It was a chilly evening. A samurai's servant stood under the Rashomon, waiting for a break in the rain.

No one else was under the wide gate. On the thick column, its crimson lacquer rubbed off here and there, perched a cricket. Since the Rashomon stands on Sujaku Avenue, a few other people at least, in sedge hat or nobleman's headgear, might have been expected to be waiting there for a break in the rainstorm. But no one was near except this man.

For the past few years the city of Kyoto had been visited by a series of calamities, earthquakes, whirlwinds, and fires, and Kyoto had been greatly devastated. Old chronicles say that broken pieces of Buddhist images and other Buddhist objects, with their lacquer, gold, or silver leaf worn off, were heaped up on roadsides to be sold as firewood. Such being the state of affairs in Kyoto, the repair of the Rashomon was out of the question. Taking advantage of the devastation, foxes and other wild animals made their dens in the ruins of the gate, and thieves and robbers found a home there too. Eventually it became customary to bring unclaimed corpses to this gate and abandon them. After dark it was so ghostly that no one dared approach.

Flocks of crows flew in from somewhere. During the daytime these cawing birds circled round the ridgepole of the gate. When the sky overhead turned red in the afterlight of the departed sun, they looked like so many grains of sesame flung across the gate. But on that day not a crow was to be seen, perhaps because of the lateness of the hour. Here and there the stone steps, beginning to crumble , and with rank grass growing in their crevices, were dotted with the white droppings of crows. The servant, in a worn blue kimono, sat on the seventh and highest step, vacantly watching the rain. His attention was drawn to a large pimple irritating his right cheek.

As has been said, the servant was waiting for a break in the rain. But he had no particular idea of what to do after the rain stopped. Ordinarily, of course, he would have returned to his master's house, but he had been discharged just before. The prosperity of the city of Kyoto had been rapidly declining, and he had been dismissed by his master, whom he had served many years, because of the effects of this decline. Thus, confined by the rain, he was at a loss to know where to go. And the weather had not a little to do with his depressed mood. The rain seemed unlikely to stop. He was lost in thoughts of how to make his living tomorrow, helpless incoherent thoughts protesting an inexorable fate. Aimlessly he had been listening to the pattering of the rain on Sujaku Avenue.

The rain, enveloping the Rashomon, gathered strength and came down with a pelting sound that could be heard far away. Looking up, he was a fat black cloud impale itself on the tips of the tiles jutting out from the roof of the gate.

He had little choice of means, whether fair or foul, because of his helpless circumstances. If he chose honest means, he would undoubtedly starve to death beside the wall or in the Sujaku gutter. He would be brought to this gate and thrown away like a stray dog. If he decided to steal ... His mind, after making the same detour time and again, came finally to the conclusion that he would be a thief.

But doubts returned many times. Though determined that he had no choice, he was still unable to muster enough courage to justify the conclusion that he must become a thief.

After a loud fit of sneezing he got up slowly. The evening chill of Kyoto made him long for the warmth of a brazier. The wind in the evening dusk howled through the columns of the gate. The cricket which had been perched on the crimson lacquered column was already gone.

Ducking his neck, he looked around the gate as he drew up the shoulders of the blue kimono which he wore over his thin undergarments. He decided to spend the night there, if he could find a secluded corner sheltered from wind and rain. He found a broad lacquered stairway leading to the tower over the gate. No one would be there, except the dead, if there were any. So, taking care that the sword at his side not slip out of the scabbard, he set food on the lowest step of the stairs.

A few seconds later, halfway up the stairs, he saw a movement above. Holding his breath and huddling cat-like in the middle of the broad stairs leading to the tower, he watched and waited. A light coming from the upper part of the tower shone faintly upon his right cheek. It was the cheek with the red, festering pimple visible under his stubby whiskers. He had expected only dead people inside the tower, but he had gone up only a few steps before he noticed a fire above, near which someone was moving. He saw a dull, yellow, flickering light which made the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling glow in a ghostly way. What sort of person would be making a fire in the Rashomon ... and in a storm? The unknown evil terrified him.

Quietly as a lizard, the servant crept up to the top of the steep stairs. Crouching on all fours and stretching his neck as far as possible, he timidly peered into the tower.

As rumor had said, he found several corpses strewn carelessly about the floor. Since the glow of the light was feeble, he could not count the number. He could only see that some were naked and others clothed. Some were women, and all were sprawled on the floor with their mouths open of their arms outstretched, showing no more sign of life than so many clay dolls. One would doubt that they had ever been alive, so eternally silent were they. Their shoulders, breasts, and torsos stood out in the dim light; other parts vanished in shadow. The offensive smell of these decomposed corpses brought his hand to his nose.

The next moment his hand dropped and he stared. He caught sight of a ghoulish form bent over a corpse. It seemed to be an old woman, gaunt, gray-haired, and nunnish in appearance. With a pine torch in her right hand, she was gazing into the face of a corpse which had long black hair.

Seized more with horror than curiosity, he drew no breath for a time. He felt the hair of his head and body stand on end. As he watched, terrified, she wedged the torch between two floor boards and, laying hands on the head of the corpse, began to pull out the long hairs one by one, as a monkey kills the lice of her young. The hair came out smoothly with the movement of her hands.

As the hair came out, fear faded from his heart, and his hatred toward the old woman mounted. It grew beyond hatred, becoming a consuming antipathy against all evil. At this instant if anyone had brought up the question of whether he would starve to death or become a thief -- the question which had occurred to him a little while ago -- he would not have hesitated to choose death. His hatred of evil flared up like the piece of pine wood which the old woman had stuck in the floor.

He did not know why she pulled out the hair of the dead. Accordingly, he did not know whether her case was to be judged as good or bad. But in his eyes, pulling out the hair of the dead in the Rashomon on this stormy night was an unpardonable crime. Of course it had never entered his mind that a little while ago he had thought of becoming a thief.

Then, summoning strength into his legs, he rose from the stairs and strode hand on sword, right in front of the old creature. The hag turned, terror in her eyes, and sprang up from the floor, trembling. For a moment she paused, poised there, then lunged for the stairs with a shriek.

"Wretch! Where are you going?" he shouted, barring the way of the trembling had who tried to scurry past him. Still she attempted to claw her way by. He pushed her back to prevent her ... They struggled, fell among the corpses, and grappled there. The issue was never in doubt. In a moment he had her by the arm, twisted it, and forced her down to the floor. Her arms were nothing but skin and bones, and there was no more flesh on them than on the shanks of a chicken. No sooner was she on the floor than he drew his sword and thrust the silver-white blade before her very nose. She was silent. She trembled as if in a fit, and her eyes were open so wide that they were almost out of their socket, and her breath came in hoarse gasps. The life of this wretch was his now. This though cooled his boiling anger and brought a calm pride and satisfaction. He looked down at her, and said in a somewhat calmer voice:

"Look here, I'm not an officer of the High Police Commissioner. I'm a stranger who happened to pass by this gate. I won't bind you or do anything against you, but you must tell me what you're doing up here."

Then the old woman opened her eyes still wider, and gazed at his face intently with the sharp red eyes of a bird of prey. She moved her lips, which were wrinkled into her nose, as though she were chewing something. Her pointed Adam's apple moved in her thin throat. Then a panting sound like the cawing of a crow came from her throat:

"I pull the hair ... I pull out the hair ... to make a wig."

Her answer banished the unknown from their encounter and brought disappointment. Suddenly she was merely a trembling old woman there at his feet. A ghoul no longer: only a hag who makes wigs from the hair of the dead -- to sell, for scraps of food. A cold contempt seized him. Fear left this heart, and his former hatred returned. These feelings must have been sensed by the other. The old creature, still clutching the hair she had pulled from the corpse, mumbled out these words in her harsh broken voice:

"Indeed, making wigs out of the hair of the dead may seem a great evil to you, but these that are here deserve no better. This woman, whose beautiful black hair I was pulling, used to sell dried snake flesh at the guard barracks, saying that it was dried fish. If she hadn't died of the plague, she'd be selling it now. The guards like to buy from her, and used to say her fish was tasty. What she did couldn't be wrong, because if she hadn't, she would have starved to death. There was no other choice. If she knew I had to do this in order to live, she probably wouldn't care."

He sheathed his sword, and with his left hand on its hilt, he listened to her meditatively. His right hand touched the big pimple on his cheek. As he listened, a certain courage was born in his heart -- the courage he had not had when he sat under the gate a little while ago. A strange power was driving him in the opposite direction from the courage he had had when he seized the old woman. No longer did he wonder whether he should starve to death or become a thief. Starvation was so far from his mind that it was the last thing that would have entered it.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a mocking tone, when she finished talking. He took his right hand from his pimple, and, bending forward, seized her by the neck and said sharply:

"Then it's right if I rob you. I'd starve if I didn't."

He tore her clothes from her body and kicked her roughly down on the corpses as she struggled and tried to clutch his leg. Five steps, and he was at the top of the stairs. The yellow clothes he had wrested from her were under his arm, and in a twinkling he had rushed down the steep stairs into the abyss of night. The thunder of this descending steps pounded in the hollow tower, and then it was quiet.

In a Grove

2007-11-18T06:53:00.000-05:00

This is the first part of my contribution to the Kurosaw-a-Thon over at filmsquish.com. Head on over to the hub for some great Kurosawa writing.

Instead of writing yet another interpretation of Rashomon, I have decided that it would be much more informative to reprint here the two stories upon which Rashomon is based. Both of these stories can be found in the Criterion DVD for Rashomon.

"In a Grove" by Ryunosuke Akutagawa

The Testimony of a Woodcutter Questioned by a High Police Commissioner

Yes, sir. Certainly, it was I who found the body. This morning, as usual, I went to cut my daily quote of cedars, when I found the body in a grove in a hollow in the mountains.

The exact location? About 150 yards off the Yamashina stage road. It's an out-of-the-way grove of bamboo and cedars.

The body was lying flat on its back dressed in a bluish silk kimono and a wrinkled headdress of the Kyoto style. A single sword stroke had pierced the breast. The fallen bamboo blades around it were stained with bloody blossoms.

No, the blood was no longer blowing. The wound had dried up, I believe. And also, a gadfly was stuck fast there, hardly noticing my footsteps.

You ask me if I saw a sword or any such thing? No, nothing, sir, I found only a rope at the foot of a cedar nearby. And ... well, in addition to the rope, I found a comb. That was all.

Apparently he must have made a battle of it before he was murdered, because the grass and fallen bamboo blades had been trampled down all aroudn.

A horse was nearby? No, sir. It's hard enough for a man to enter, let alone a horse.

The Testimony of a Traveling Buddhist Priest Questioned by a High Police Commissioner

The time? Certainly, it was about noon yesterday, sir. The unfortunate man was on the road from Sekiyama to Yamashina. He was walking toward Sekiyama with a woman accompanying him on horseback, who I have since learned was his wife. A scarf hanging from her head his her face from view. All I saw was the wife. All I saw was the color of her clothes, a lilac-colored suit. Her horse was a sorrel with a fine mane.

The lady's height? Oh, about four feet five inches. Since I am a Buddhist priest, I took little notice about her details. Well, the man was armed with a sword as well as a bow and arrows. And I remember that he carried some twenty-odd arrows in his quiver.

Little did I expect that he would meet such a fate. Truly, human life is as evanescent as the morning dew or a flash of lightning. My words are inadequate to express my sympathy for him.

The Testimony of a Policeman Questioned by a High Police Commissioner

The man I arrested? He is the notorious brigand called Tajomaru. When I arrested him, he had fallen off his horse. He was groaning on the bridge as Awataguchi.

The time? It was in the early hours of last night. For the record, I might say that the other day I tried to arrest him, but unfortunately he escaped. He was wearing a dark-blue silk kimono and a large plain sword. And, as you see, he got a bow and arrows somewhere.

You say that this bow and these arrrows look like the ones owned by the dead man? Then Tajomaru must be the murderer. The bow wound with leather strips, the black lacquered quiver, the seventeen arrows with hawk feathers -- these were all in his possession, I believe.

Yes, sir, the horse is, as you say, a sorrel with a fine mane. A little beyond the stone bridge I found the horse grazing by the roadside, with his long rein dangling. Surely there is some providence in his having been thrown by the horse.

Of all the robbers prowling around Kyoto, this Tajomaru as brought the most grief to the women in town. Last autumn a wife who came to the mountain behind the Pindora of the Toribe Temple, presumably to pay a visit, was murdered, along with a girl. It has been suspected that it was his doing. If this criminal murdered the man, you cannot tell what he may have done with the man's wife. May it please your honor to look into the problem as well.

The Testimony of an Old Woman Questioned by a High Police Commissioner

Yes, sir, that corpse is the man who married my daughter. He does not come from Kyoto. He was a samurai in the twon of Kokufu in the province of Wakasa. His name was Kanazawa no Takehiro, and his age was twenty-six. He was of a gentle disposition, so I am sure he did nothing to provoke the anger of others.

My daughter? Her name is Masago, and her age is nineteen. She is a spirited, fun-loving girl, but I am sure she has never known any man except Takehiro. She has a small, oval, dark-complexioned face with a mole at the corner of her left eye.

Yesterday Takehiro left for Wakasa with my daughter. What a misfortune that things should have come to such a sad end! What has become of my daughter? I am resigned to giving up my son-in-law as lost, but the fate of my daughter worries me sick. For heaven's sake, leave no stone unturned to find her. I hate that robber Tajomaru, or whatever his name is. Not only my son-in-law, but my daughter ... (Her later words were drowned in tears.)

Tajomaru's Confession

I killed him, but not her.

Where's she gone? I can't tell. Oh, wait a minute. No torture can make me confess what I don't know. Now things have come to such a head, I won't keep anything from you.

Yesterday a little past noon I met that couple. Just then a puff of wind blew, and raised her hanging scarf, so that I caught a glimpse of her face. Instantly it was again covered from my view. That may have been one reason; she looked like Bodhisattva. At that moment I had made up my mind to capture her even if I had to kill her man.

Why? To my killing isn't a matter of such great consequence as you might think. When a woman is captured, her man has to be killed anyway. In killing, I use the sword by my side. Am I the only one who kills people? You kill people with your power, with your money. Sometimes you kill them on the pretext of working for their good. It's true they don't bleed. They are in the best of health, but all the same you've killed them. It's hard to say who is a greater sinner, you or me. (An ironical smile.)

But it would be good if I could capture a woman without killing her man. So I made up my mind to capture her, and do my best not to kill him. But it's out of the question on the Yamahina stage road, so I managed to lure the couple into the mountains.

It was quite easy. I became their traveling companion, and I told them there was an old mound in the mountain over there, and that I had dug it open and found many mirrors and swords. I went on to tell them I'd buried things in a grove behind the mountain, and that I'd like to sell them at a low price to anyone who would care to have them. Then ... you see, isn't greed terrible? He was beginning to be moved by my talk before he knew it. In less than half an hour they were driving their horse toward the mountain with me.

When he reached the grove, I told them that the treasures were buried in it, and I asked them to come and see. The man had no objection -- he was blinded by greed. The woman said she would wait on horseback. It was natural for her to say so at the sight of a thick grove. To tell you the truth, my plan just as I wished. So I went into the grove with him, leaving her behind alone.

The grove is only bamboo for some distance. About fifty yards ahead there's a rather open clump of cedars. It was a convenient spot for my purpose. Pushing my way through the grove, I told him a plausible lie that the treasures were buried under the cedars. When I told him this, he laboriously pushed his way toward the slender cedars visible through the grove. After a while the bamboo thinned out, and we came to where a number of cedars grew in a row. As soon as we got there, I seized him from behind. Because he was a trained, sword-bearing warrior, he was quite strong, but he was taken by surprise, so there was no help for him. I soon tied him up to the root of a cedar.

Where did I get a rope? Thank heaven, being a robber, I had rope with me, since I might have to scale a wall at any moment. Of course it was easy to stop him from calling out by gagging his mouth with fallen bamboo leaves.

When I disposed of him, I went to his woman and asked her to come and see him, because he seemed to have been suddenly taken sick. It's needless to say that this plan also worked wll. Ths woman, her sedge hat off, came into the depths of the grove, where I led her by the hand. The instant she caught sight of her husband, she drew a small sword. I've never seen a woman of such violent temper. If I'd been off guard, I'd have got a thrust in my side. I dodged, but she kept on slashing at me. She might have wounded me deeply or killed me. But I'm Tajomaru. I managed to strike down her small sword without drawing my own. The most spirited woman is defenseless without a weapon. At last I could satisfy my desire for her without taking her husband's life.

Yes ... without taking his life. I didn't want to kill him. I was about to run away from the grove, leaving the woman behind in tears, when she frantically clung to my arm. In borken fragments of words, she asked that either her husband or I die. She said it was more trying than death to have her shame known by two men. She gasped out that she wanted to be the wife of whichever survived. Then a furious desire to kill him seized me.

Telling you in this way, no doubt I seem a crueler man than you. But that's because you didn't see her face. Especially her burning eyes at that moment.

As I saw her eye to eye, I wanted to make her my wife even if I were to be struck by lightning. I wanted to make her my wife ... this single desire filled my mind. This was not simply lust, as you might think. At that time if I'd had no other desire than lust, I surely wouldn't have minded knocking her down and running away. Then I wouldn't have stained my sword with his blood. But the moment I gazed at her face in the dark grove, I decided not to leave without killing him.

But I didn't like to resort of unfair means to kill him. I untied him and told him to cross swords with me. The rope that was found at the root of the cedar is the rope I dropped at the time. Furious with anger, he drew his thick sword. And quick as a wink, he sprang at me ferociously, without speaking a word. I needn't tell you how our fight turned out. The twenty-third stroke ... please remember this. I'm impressed with this fact still. Nobody under the sun has ever clashed swords with me twenty strokes. (A cheerful smile.)

When he fell, I turned toward her, lowering my bloodstained sword. But to my great astonishment she was gone. I wondered where she had run to. I looked for her in the clump of cedars. I listened, but heard only a groaning sound from the throat of the dying man.

As soon as we crossed swords, she may have run away through the grove to call for help. When I thought of that, I decided it was a matter of life and death to me. So, robbing him of his sword, and bow and arrows, I ran out to the mountain road. There I found her horse still grazing quietly. It would be a waste of words to tell you the later details, but before I entered town I had already parted with the sword. That's my confession. I know that my head will be hung in chains anyway, so give me the maximum penalty. (A defiant attitude.)

The Confession of a Woman Who Has Come to the Shimizu Temple

That man in the blue silk kimono, after forcing me to yield to him, laughed mockingly as he looked at my bound husband. How horrified my husband must have been! But no matter how hard he struggled in agony, the rope cut into him all the more tightly. In spite of myself I ran stumblingly toward his side. Or rather I tried to run toward him, but the man knocked me down. Just at that moment I saw an indescribable light in my husband's eyes. Something beyond expression ... his eyes make me shudder even now. That instantaneous look of my husband, who couldn't speak a word, told me all his heart. The flash in his eyes was neither anger nor sorrow ... only a cold light, a look of loathing. More struck by the look in his eyes than by the blow of the thief, I called out in spite of myself and fell unconscious.

In the course of time I came to, and found that the man in the blue silk was gone. I saw only my husband still bound to the root of the cedar. I raised myself from the bamboo blades with difficulty, and looked into his face; but the expression in his eyes was just the same as before.

Beneath the cold contempt in his eyes, there was hatred. Shame, grief, and anger ... I don't know how to express my heart at that time. Reeling to my feet, I went up to my husband.

"Takehiro," I said to him, "since things have come to this pass, I cannot live with you. I'm determined to die ... but you must die too. You saw my shame. I can't leave with you alive as you are."

This was all I could say. Still he went on gazing at me with loathing and contempt. My heart breaking, I looked for his sword. It must have been taken by the robber. Neither his sword nor his bow and arrow were to be seen in the grove. But fortunately my small sword was lying at my feet. Raising it overhead, once more I said, "Now give me your life. I'll follow you right away."

When he heard these words, he moved his lips with difficulty. Since his mouth was stuffed with leaves, of course his voice could not be heard. But at a glance I understood his words. Despising me, his look said only, "Kill me." Neither conscious nor unconscious, I stabbed the small sword through the lilac-colored kimono into his breast.

Again at this time I must have fainted. By the time I managed to look up, he had already breathed his last -- still in bonds. A streak of sinking sunlight streamed through the clump of cedars and bamboos, and shone in his pale face. Gulping down my sobs, I untied the rope from his dead body. And ... and what has become of me since, I have no more strength to tell you. Anyway, I hadn't the strength to die. I stabbed my own throat with the small sword, I threw myself into a pond at the foot of the mountain, and I tried to kill myself in many ways. Unable to end my life, I am still living in dishonor. (A lonely smile.) Worthless as I am, I must have been forsaken even by the most merciful Kwannon. I killed my own husband. I was violated by the robber. Whatever can I do? Whatever can I ... I ... (Gradually, violent sobbing.)

The Story of the Murdered Man, as Told Through a Medium

After violating my wife, the robber, sitting there, began to speak comforting words to her. Of course I couldn't speak. My whole body was tied fast to the root of a cedar. But meanwhile I winked at her many times, as much as to say, "Don't believe the robber." I wanted to convey some such meaning to her. But my wife, sitting dejectedly on the bamboo leaves, was staring at her lap. To all appearances, she was listening to his words. I was racked with jealousy. In the meantimes, the robber went on with the clever talk, from one subject to another. The robber finally made his brazen proposal. "Once your virtue is stained, you won't get alone well with your husband, so won't you be my wife instead? It's my love for you that made me violent toward you."

While the criminal talked, my wife raised her face as if in a trance. She had never looked so beautiful as at that moment. What did my beautiful wife say in answer to him while I was sitting bound there? I am lost in space, but I have never thought over her answer without burning with anger and jealousy. Truly she said, "Then take me away with you wherever you go."

This is not the whole of her sin. If that were all, I would not be tormented so much in the dark. When she was leaving in the grove as if in a dream, her hand in the robber's, she suddenly turned pale, and pointed at me tied to the root of the cedar, and said, "Kill him! I cannot marry you as long as he lives."

"Kill him!" she cried many times, as if she had gone crazy. Even now these words threaten to blow me headlong into the bottomless abyss of darkness. Has such a hateful thing come out of a human mouth ever before? Have such cursed words ever struck a human ear, even once? Even once such a ... (A sudden cry of scorn.) At these words the robber himself turned pale. "Kill him!" she cried, clinging to his arms. Looking hard at her, he answered neither yes nor no ... But hardly had I thought about his answer before she had been knocked down into the bamboo leaves. (Again a cry of scorn.) Quietly folding his arms, he looked at me and said, "What would you like done with her? Kill her or save her? You have only to nod. Kill her?" For these words alone I would like to pardon his crime.

While I hesitated, she shrieked and ran into the depths of the grove. The robber instantly snatched at her, but he failed even to grasp her sleeve.

After she ran away, he took up my sword, and my bow and arrows. With a single stroke he cut one of my bonds. I remember his mumbling, "My fate is next." Then he disappeared from the grove. All was silent after that. No, I heard someone crying. Untying the rest of my bonds, I listened carefully, and noticed that it was my own crying. (Long silence.)

I raised my exhausted body from the root of the cedar. In front of me there was shining the small sword which my wife had dropped. I took it up and stabbed it into my breast. A bloody lump rose to my mouth, but I felt no pain. When my breast grew cold, everything was as silent as the dead in their graves. What profound silence! Not a single bird note was heard in the sky over this grave in the hollow of the mountains. Only a lonely light lingered on the cedars and the mountain. The light gradually grew fainter, till the cedars and bamboo were lost to view. Lying there, I was enveloped in deep silence.

Then someone crept up to me. I tried to see who it was. But darkness had already been gathering around me. Someone ... that someone drew the small sword out of my breast in its invisible hand. At the same time blood again flowed into my mouth. And once and for all I sank down into the darkness of space.

Knights of Sundae Monday

2007-11-12T17:45:00.000-05:00

The western is dead, right? Didn't Unforgiven and Dead Man kill it once and for all? I guess not, with the recent success of 3:10 To Yuma. What's even more fascinating is the adaptation of the western into a sci-fi setting. Since the west has been conquered, the only direction we can go is up. This is an idea that should be used more than just in Firefly and Serenity. And so this week I submit another sci-fi western with a bit of kung fu thrown in for good taste.

Rossellini's Faith

2007-11-07T13:11:00.000-05:00

This is my entry in the Film + Faith Blog-a-Thon over at Strange Culture check out the hub for some good reading on film, faith, and that grey area where the two meet.

Roberto Rossellini's The Flowers of St. Francis could have been a very boring film. St. Francis of Assisi (Brother Nazario Gerardi) has little contact with anyone outside of the group of monks he leads, and the stories which focus on him revolve around his advice and his meek nature. Thank goodness, then for Brother Ginepro (Brother Severino Pisacane). His stories involve his interactions with the world around him, and it gives the viewer an opportunity to witness what happens when the faithful meet the faithless.

The first time we meet Ginepro, he has given away his robe to a poor man. His reasoning? The poor man asked for it, and Ginepro couldn't refuse such a request. This is the perfect introduction, as it tells us everything we need to know about Ginepro's character. He is absolutely devout to his beliefs, but he is too simple to understand when he should limit his adherence for his own sake. He won't look out for himself unless specifically ordered by St. Francis. Of course, sometimes he even goes against that. Later in the film, Ginepro has given away a new robe to another poor man. This time he says because the poor man asked in God's name. Ginepro didn't give away the robe, as St. Francis specifically ordered against, but he didn't prevent the poor man from taking the robe off his back. His devotion to St. Francis' message is astonishing, but it pales in comparison to his actions before Nicolaio the Tyrant (Aldo Fabrizi).

Ginepro is an extremely naive character, as shown by his belief that Nicolaio's subjects would appreciate his sermons, even after they have severely beaten him. When Nicolaio asks who he is, Ginepro can only respond that he is a worthless sinner. That is what he believes, and it almost gets him killed. This entire sequence shows exactly where Rossellini stands on the matter of faith. Though Nicolaio almost kills Ginepro because of his faith, it is Ginepro's resilience that saves his life. A lesser man would have fought back against Nicolaio, sealing his fate. Ginepro only looks back with a smile on his face, taught humility and passivity by St. Francis. That saves his life, and reveals Rossellini's beliefs. Even if God does not exist, it is better to have faith in a falsity than to lack any faith at all. Ginepro is the filter through which we can see Rossellini's true feelings, and as such his part is the most important in the film.

Sundae Monday's Got Faith

2007-11-05T18:23:00.000-05:00

Of the blog-a-thons coming up, the Film+Faith Blog-a-Thon over at Strange Culture sounds the most exciting, and is the only one I'm sure I'll be participating in. This also serves as a chance to remind all of you that I have my own Blog-a-Thon on December 16, which I have dubbed the It's a Wonderful Blog-A-Thon, because it will be a wonderful blog-a-thon.

This week's video ties into faith, or at least a kind of faith. Consider this an early entry into the Film + Faith Blog-a-Thon. This is an animated short called The Monk and the Fish. Following the trials of a monk as he tries to catch a fish, the film is about the monk's determination, which shows his faith in the ability to catch the fish. His determination is shown throughout the shot, but the part that really stands out is the monk's attempt at spending the whole night awake with candles by his side to catch the fish. Unlike most cartoons, where the fish would jump, causing the splash to douse the candles, the fish here is innocent. The monk's determination isn't forced by a hostile foe, but by his own drive and faith. His faith is only rewarded when he simply stops trying. Only upon admitting absolute failure can he and the fish move on. The monk is rewarded for admitting the limitations of his ability, though his faith goes unshaken.

The short is absolutely beautiful, and I was fortunate enough to catch it on the big screen with its full colors (the best approximation can be found here. The watercolors create an almost magical feeling, which is matched by the lighthearted action and the score. The score may be the best part of the film, as it matches the action beat for beat while still impressing on its own merits. It never grates on the ears and continually finds something new to add. Enjoy.

Sundae Monday and the Beatdown of the Colorado Rockies

2007-10-29T20:51:00.000-04:00

I was going to use this pre-Halloween post to talk about all those things that scared me as a child, but that can wait for another week. This week featured the ascent of the Boston Red Sox to the top of the World Series for the second time in four years. Sometimes I get scared thinking about the fact that this guy is our closer, though:

The Forgotten Auteur

2007-10-28T19:16:00.000-04:00

At the end of the year, everyone will look back on what filmmakers are no longer with us. People will mourn Bergman and Antonioni, and some will mourn Adrienne Shelly. Few people will remember that this year we lost Ousmane Sembene, one of the great unrecognized directors. When his death was announced, I had no idea who he was. A little research gave me a basic introduction, and in the months since, I have seen Xala and Black Girl. This is hardly a comprehensive look at his feature films, but it is more than most people get, and his films deserve to be seen much more.

Sembene's films are surprisingly even-handed. His main characters are fully developed and three-dimensional, and Sembene is not afraid to show the negative sides of his protagonists. Though this comes naturally with the story of Xala, Sembene easily could have made the titular Black Girl into a martyr for Africa. He didn't, and the film benefits greatly from the character's negative aspects. Xala tells the story of a despicable man, yet we align ourselves with him and his plight. This kind of complication adds to the film's depth, and it tells of Sembene's storytelling abilities.

Sembene is also a strongly feminist director. His female characters are relatable, and his stories often involve women struggling against their positions in society. Black Girl is about an under-appreciated maid trying to prove her worth to herself. Xala involves a man and his third marriage. Occasionally, Sembene diverts from the main story to show the man's daughter reacting to her mother's position. This conflict is just as compelling as the man's attempt to undo the curse placed on him, because it is rooted in real characters facing real conflicts. It's also not metaphorical, unlike most of Sembene's stories.

This isn't meant to say that his metaphors are overbearing in any way. They're not. In fact, if I hadn't been told about it beforehand, I probably wouldn't have recognized the metaphor behind the powerlessness in Xala. It's there for the deeper interpretation, but it coexists with the surface plot in a way that allows a strong interaction without either one dominating. This sort of storytelling stands out in an age when subtlety may be the rarest narrative device that filmmakers use. Sembene was one of a kind, and his films should be seen much more widely than they are.

Sundae Monday and the Close-Up (Part II)

2007-10-22T15:44:00.000-04:00

One last time before I move on to something else, I'll throw in another entry for the Close-Up Blog-A-Thon over at The House Next Door. This one is a music video for The Strokes' "Reptilia." I don't have anything to add this time, so enjoy

Damn Dirty Apes

2007-10-18T18:25:00.001-04:00

This is another entry in the Close-Up Blog-A-Thon over at The House Next Door. Be sure to check out the hub for some great writing. Also, I would like to apologize for my computer refusing to take an adequate screenshot. Unfortunately, there will be no pictures to supplement my arguments. Sorry about that.

The first close-up of 2001: A Space Odyssey seems out of place. On the African plains, night is falling. We see a leopard, and its roars dominate the soundtrack for the rest of the scene. We watch a group of apes huddling for safety among a group of rocks. We see Moonwatcher, the leader of this group, watching over the others alone. Two apes hold each other closely, the first real sign of affection among the apes. And then the close-up.

An ape's face dominates the screen, its eyes wide and constantly moving. This is the first time we have seen an ape's eyes up close, and we see the fear the leopard inspires. This sort of emotion is something we've yet to see so far, and it's something we won't see again until we're introduced to HAL. This is an ape that has human qualities, and it turns out to be more human than David Bowman or Frank Poole. This sort of revelation can be shocking.

In fact, David doesn't truly show emotion until he has already gone to Jupiter and through the monolith. HAL, often described as killing the crew members with ruthless efficiency, acts out of fear. In the infamous scene where HAL reads David and Frank's lips as they talk about shutting him down, most people see HAL as uncaring and calculating. I see it as a creature learning about a threat. Is HAL really supposed to just sit idly while Frank and David turn off all his mental capabilities? No, like any sentient being, HAL needs to fight back. His actions are motivated by the fear of being shut down, and his protest to Dave explicitly tells the audience that this is a being capable of emotion. Dave has never shown fear. He reacts to every situation with pure logic, yet we align ourselves with him because he has become a representative of our species. But the humans here are less human than HAL, and they are less human than the apes we saw before. Dave needs something extraordinary to happen for him to become human.

That something happens when he passes through the monolith. First he is literally transported, but then he is mentally transported. Once we see the first extreme close-up of Dave's eyeball, I believe we see things shown in his mind. By passing through the monolith, his mind is being altered just as the apes' minds were altered. Dave is learning about the origins of the universe, and so are we. This, I think, explains his state when his ship finally comes to rest in the bedroom. His mind simply isn't ready to process the information that has been given to him. Then we return to a normal close-up of Dave. He is finally frightened. He must become human to surpass humanity. It is only at the end of his body's life that his mind is truly ready to move to the next level. Once he is beyond the state of being human, he does not need to have fear. This is reflected by the close-up of the Starchild. The Starchild is calm, for he is beyond a human state.

The close-up is used in 2001: A Space Odyssey to show the emotion that is so rare in this film. Apes are scared. HAL is scared. Dave is not until his mind is altered. The Starchild is peaceful, maybe even happy. The first glimpse of happiness in the film comes from a being that is beyond human. What does that say about us?

Sundae Monday's Ready for it's Close-Up

2007-10-16T18:47:00.000-04:00

It's Tuesday, I know, but I think that alone can prove to you that my life has become extremely busy of late. My screen capture software isn't exactly doing it's job, so I may need to do my actual entry into the Close-Up Blog-A-Thon over at The House Next Door without the proper screen shot. But this is a start.

The function of a close-up often depends on the genre. If in a comedy, it is there for a punchline. In a horror film, it is there to scare us. But what about in a horror-comedy? Surely there is no better example to look at than Evil Dead II. This is a scene which consists almost entirely of close-ups, and its effect is immediate. We begin with a deer's head, a hunting trophy. Suddenly, it turns toward the camera with possessed eyes and laughs at us. The laughter is unsettling, and the look of the deer adds immensely to the sense of fear and unease. Most important is the fact that the angle is from Ash's position, and the deer ir practically looking into the camera as he laughs at us. The lamp laughs at us. If the bookshelves could look in a certain direction, they'd probably be laughing at us. All of this is cut with close-ups of Ash slowly losing his mind. Finally, we cut back to Ash.

He looks straight into the camera and laughs at us too. We are suddenly completely alone in a house full of what appears to be demonic beings, and they finally have control over our protagonist. The demented look is frightening, yet has hints of hilarity in them. As Ash moves away from the camera, his laughing becomes more goofy, and he interacts with the lamp. Comedy is restored once the close-ups have ended. But the scene isn't over.

We return to Ash in close-up one last time in the scene. As the camera moves closer, his hysterical laughs turn into screams of anguish. Our hero is back on our side, and he's scared. The humor has evaporated from the situation, and the horror is fully reinstated with the return of the close-up.

In this scene, the close-up is a scary thing. Everyone is laughing at us, and there is no escape from it. Enjoy.

Sundae Monday's in the Crossfire

2007-10-08T11:24:00.000-04:00

I've been spending the last week reacquainting myself with the music of Frank Zappa. His sense of humor is incredible, as is his skill in composing music. However, the first entry under "Frank Zappa" over at YouTube is not a performance, or a music video of any sort. It is an episode of Crossfire from 1986, and it's amazing to look at it in contrast with a more modern version. First is Zappa in '86, then comes Jon Stewart in 2004.

The first glaring difference is the production designs. The '86 version, with its sparse set and black background, forces the viewer to deal with the speakers and what they have to say. It is more confrontational, while the 2004 version adds colors and a sleek design that could easily distract.

I think the key here is the studio audience, or lack thereof. Frank Zappa wasn't playing to a crowd, while Jon Stewart barely did anything else. The popularization of the news has led to a decline in quality, as can be clearly seen in the comparison. It's almost enough to make one wish Robert Novak was still talking about the issues. Almost.

I'm Lost

2007-10-05T17:52:00.000-04:00

About a year ago, I wrote about my decidedly negative thoughts on Pan's Labyrinth. This week found me back with Guillermo Del Toro's "masterpiece", and though I found much more to appreciate, I didn't find much more to like. Maybe another viewing would fully win me over, but right now the film falls into the category of a film I respect much more than I like.

Since enough has been said in reviews about the film, I'm going to cheat and just put some things you should pay attention to next time you sit down with Ofelia.

- The not-so-subtle references to "Alice in Wonderland". The fancy dress Ofelia is given, along with plot points revolving around going down holes and forbidden foods, acknowledge the film's place within its genre's history while allowing the film to branch out in its own way. It's telling that Ofelia's "Alice in Wonderland" dress ends up with mud all over it.

- Repetitions of the opening shot. Of course, it's there in the end, but it's also referenced in other parts of the film. Most notable is the shot of Ofelia after completing her first task. As she walks out from under the tree, she leans against it and the camera zooms in. It recalls the opening shot and points to it as a victory of sorts. Depending on what you believe about the ending, it is a victory, and this shot in the middle of the film lends to certain interpretations of the ending.

- Del Toro's compositions. Early in the film, Del Toro gives us some wonderful deep focus shots. Their beauty adds to the luscious world he has created, and even if you don't like the film, you can appreciate the craft that goes into it.

- The lack of graphic violence. After watching this film, I recall hearing somebody discuss The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. They said that most people recall it as an extremely bloody film when very little is actually shown. In the same way, there is significantly less blood throughout Pan's Labyrinth than most people remember. The scene where a man is beaten to death with a rock is shown completely in shadow. We never actually see the Captain torture anyone, though it is strongly implied. Del Toro often lets us imagine the worst without us realizing. This stands in stark contrast to someone like Tarantino who constantly emphasizes the violence in his films, or lack thereof.

It Came From Sundae Monday

2007-10-01T15:14:00.000-04:00

A lot has been made of David Cronenberg's latest, Eastern Promises. Unfortunately, I left a day after it came out in the US, and it's not out yet in the UK. This is one of my most eagerly anticipated films of the year, after A History of Violence topped my 2005 list, and the reviews have me more excited than ever. And so, keeping Mr. Cronenberg in mind this week, I have found one of his earliest short films. From the Drain has inklings of the Cronenberg we would get to know later, but it still lacks the greatness of his features. A tight set bound piece effectively portrays the claustrophobia these men must be fearing, and the film has a very strong use of zooms and close-ups. There is a zoom towards the mouth of man who fears the tendrils in the drain. This echoes the early zoom towards the drain itself, as if to suggest that his vocal fear of the tendrils is just as responsible as the drain for the presence of the tendrils. It gives a wonderful look at the man who would make Videodrome and Naked Lunch. Enjoy.

The Power of a Shot

2007-09-29T06:01:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I ventured out to see my first film in a British theater, and I felt compelled to blog about it. After all, I have significantly less time to trek to a theater, and the costs are significantly more. A trip to the theater becomes an event for me, as I will be doing it so rarely. But I digress. The film in question was Apichatpong Weerasethakul's beautiful Syndromes and a Century. I'm glad I picked this, as it is well worth my time, and yours as well. As it slowly makes its rounds, I would highly recommend you give it a go. It is a true art film, yet its sense of humor manages to make it bearable to those who aren't swept up by its beauty.

Syndromes actually made me recall American Beauty, strangely enough. There is a shot at the end of Syndromes, that of smoke being sucked into a ventilation shaft, which struck me with the force of a hurricane. In fact, I may go so far as to say that the shot made me believe in the presence of the divine. Here's where American Beauty comes in. We all remember this scene:

I felt some inkling of that as I watched that shot. My feelings were not nearly so intense, but I thought that it's hard to imagine something so beautiful could just happen without something higher up. I didn't feel great comfort, that somehow God is here and everything will be alright. No. I just felt the presence. Upon further reflection, it felt stupid to feel this way.

After all, this shot wasn't something natural. Even if you dismiss the scene from American Beauty as pretentious, it can work within its context. He saw something that was natural within his world. That bag's movement is not natural for us. There were probably fans blowing at it from just off screen to create that movement. And so we cannot feel the same feelings as he does because it's not real. In the same way, that shot in Syndromes and a Century was probably carefully crafted with fans and a smoke machine. There can't be a divine presence here. This was man-made beauty.

And yet, if this doesn't prove the presence of God, then it at least exemplifies the power of film. The director, through a slow build up and the persistence of a certain tone throughout the film, can take us places we've never been before. It can make us feel things that should be embarrassing, yet I don't feel embarrassed about it. This was a moment that reminded me why I love film, and why I write about it. It's the feeling I hope for every time I step into a theater or pop in a DVD. If only for a few minutes, I can feel something this powerful.

What moments in film transport you? What movies remind you why you love movies? What shots strike you as especially profound?

In Defense of Halloween(2007)

2007-09-27T07:58:00.000-04:00

The title is a bit of an exaggeration, as I haven't seen Halloween. I think this was a film doomed to the critics because of its very existence and place in history. This sort of group-think, especially when it comes to a remake like this, can be dangerous and limiting in our views on cinema.

First of all, we must properly define a remake. Recent talk about the "remake" of Halloween has got me thinking. Does the new version of Hairspray count as a remake, or is it a film adaptation of the stage adaptation of a film? If half the contents of the "remake" did not exist in the original, does it still count as a remake? If Batman Begins can count as a series reboot, then shouldn't Halloween? And wouldn't we rather have Rob Zombie's version, background story and all, than merely another generic slasher movie starring Michael Myers? Wouldn't that be the greater disservice to John Carpenter? Zombie at least tried to push the series in a new direction, something most directors wouldn't have done.

Speaking of Batman Begins and Halloween, I'd like to explore the idea of the backstory as plot device. In this piece over at Lazy Eye Theatre, Piper chides audiences who went to see Halloween, partly because of the presence of a backstory to attempt to explain Michael Myers' homocidal ways. Then shouldn't we chide all the people who went to see Batman Begins or Spiderman or even Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? All of them begin with backstories for their characters which help to properly explain the origins and psychology of their main characters. In fact, it is standard protocol for modern superhero movies to include a backstory for both the superpowers and the emotional character.

This is best exemplified by Batman Begins and Hulk, whose use of fear and father issues, respectively, became the main core themes of the films. I cannot speak personally of either Halloween, but I would be inclined to believe that Zombie would use something prevalent in Michael Myers' home life as an underlying theme. Feel free to tell me if I'm nowhere near the truth. However, I will probably need to see the evidence and draw my own conclusions.

As for the notion of Carpenter's Halloween being an "untouchable," a film that has attained classic status and should never be touched with a remake, I point the the 50s. Ninotchka and The Philadelphia Story were both remade as high profile musicals in the 50s, Silk Stockings and High Society, respectively. Both Ninotchka and The Philadelphia Story are film adaptations of a book and a play, but it hardly seems credible that the studios decided to return to the source material for the new films. Likewise with Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Though Burton did adapt from the source material rather than update Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the project probably was developed in the studio system as a straight remake which got retooled once Burton signed on.

Studios love to remake films. And most of the time, the result is uninspired, if not plain bad. Halloween was going to be remade, whether Rob Zombie directed it or not. It wasn't his idea to remake it, but he did the work. And he created something different. For those genre purists, the film must automatically be bad. After all, it is a remake of an established classic, and nobody should ever make one of those. But Rob Zombie's Halloween doesn't look like a straight remake. It looks like a reinvention. The difference is subtle, but it is there. It is an attempt to create something different, except it uses names we've heard before. Much like Michael Mann's Miami Vice, this reads as a movie that would be much better received if it only had a different title and different character names. I am personally of the belief that both films were going to be made, and both men thought that a straight remake or adaptation would be absolutely terrible. They sacrificed some credibility to prevent worse films from being made, and I think both made the right decision.

Peter Bart Hates Sundae Monday

2007-09-24T20:45:00.000-04:00

It seems Peter Bart hates you for contributing to the astonishing anomaly of blogging. With his newest blanket attack on all things that feature the word "blog", he ponders bloggers' obsession with the traffic that visits their sites. Consider me Exhibit A for the defense. I don't care about traffic so much as comments. I believe that the invention of blogging has created the ability for discussion that was sorely lacking from film criticism, and I would only be happier with my blog if it got more comments. But Bart only seems to be interested in Perez Hilton as the archetype for bloggers everywhere, so I decided to dedicate this Sundae Monday to someone who couldn't be bothered to even look for this blog.

This week's clip provides what I assume is both variations on the characters Bart thinks we all are. On one hand is the complete moron, a product of the internet who has no attention span and no intelligence. The other half is the Fanboy, the obsessive statistic counter who prevents Bart from properly spinning the films he wants, so we must all be geeks, of course.

Peter Bart, we are neither of these characters, and I hope someday that you will come to realize that we have brains beyond mere statistics. But until then, just keep thinking what you do. Someday we might fit your exaggerations.

Announcing the It's A Wonderful Life Blog-A-Thon, December 16

2007-09-23T08:13:00.000-04:00

There are some films that everyone is supposed to love. They are the ones that appear on those lists, announcing to the world that if you don't like this film, there must be something wrong with me. I guess there's something wrong with me. I've never particularly liked It's a Wonderful Life. In fact, I don't understand how so many people like it. I don't mean this to be mean spirited, but I just don't get it. I would like to, though. I want to see what everyone else sees, even if I choose to continue disliking it. And so, in this effort of greater understanding, I propose a Blog-A-Thon.

This will be a simple affair. One day, one film. Write anything you want, as long as it has to deal with James Stewart's final collaboration with Frank Capra. If you feel the same way as I do, please contribute. If you think I'm dead wrong, explain. The key here is discussion. Too often we let films sit on lists without a proper defense. This is your chance to defend a film you think is great, or it could be your chance to take an overrated film down a peg or two. Whatever you want to say, I will take it. I can assure you that I will have my attack planned out. I think I will go for the left flank first...

If you wish to participate, you can leave a comment here, or you can send me an email. I will leave reminders as the day gets closer, so feel free to let me know whenever you want. Even if you don't participate, please tell everyone you know about this. This is my first Blog-A-Thon, and I hope it will be a success, but that all depends on you.

Sundae Monday Learns the Alphabet

2007-09-17T12:18:00.000-04:00

Two days in England and I still don't have an internet connection. Fortunately the internet cafe near where I live now is only 1£ per hour, but this one will be quick. As soon as I get the internet in my room, I'll be up with my look back at this past summer. A sidenote to all the Jews out there: Shanah Tovah. But I digress. Today brings news that in October I will be able to see Patrick Stewart in Macbeth. Of course, the first thing I thought was this outtake from Season One of "Star Trek: The Next Generation":

And Now For Something Completely Sundae Monday

2007-09-10T19:13:00.000-04:00

Things will be changing around here. I'm not sure if the change is for the better or worse, but it's a-coming. I am going to England on Saturday, not to return until June. So at least for a little bit things will be slowing down as I go over and make myself comfortable. In honor of this, and a conveniently timed screening of And Now For Something Completely Different this past weekend, I present a comparison. One clip is from Monty Python's Flying Circus and the other is from And Now For Something Completely Different. I shouldn't have to tell you which is TV and which is film.

The most noticeable difference here, outside of the acting, is the camera movement. The TV version, done in one shot, never moves until the punchline is delivered. The film version features a constantly moving camera. The camera slowly moves from right to left while panning the other way to keep the characters in frame. We feel like we are going in circles, an accurate representation of the conversation we watch. The TV version, on the other hand, only moves to emphasize the punchline. This movement is justified as the punchline is the only reason the scene exists. Unlike the Dirty Fork sketch (see below), the scene could not exist without the punchline, and so it feels right that it is emphasized.

The acting is more refined in the film version, which works to the benefit of Terry Jones, but not Eric Idle. Idle's work in the TV version places more emphasis on his vocal intonations, while the film version is much more physical. I prefer Idle's voice work in the TV sketch, but it's more of a personal preference. Jones' reactions in the film version are muted, letting Idle own the scene. In the TV version, Jones is more clearly agitated at points, taking away from the punchline. The more subtle reactions of the film version build up to the ending while also allowing Idle to dominate the scene completely.

The Sounds of Chaplin

2007-09-09T14:06:00.000-04:00

This is my contribution to the Slapstick Blog-A-Thon over at Film of the Year. Make sure to check out the hub for some great writing.

Everyone knows about Charlie Chaplin. His Tramp is probably the most recognizable image from all of silent film. His films are required viewing for anyone who wants even the most basic understanding of silent film, and the history behind City Lights, Modern Times, and The Great Dictator are practically legend. He remained silent for 10 years after the rest of the world started talking. But his relationship with sound is much more complex and fascinating than most people think.

Take this scene from The Great Dictator (It lasts from about the 4 minute mark to the 5 minute mark):

This scene effectively combines comedy that doesn't need sound with comedy that comes entirely from sound. The line of officers is a gag that could only work in the sound world. Part of that stems from the evolution of the voices. What was originally a simple order gains a hint of sadism as the lower officers gain glee from not having to do this duty. Chaplin understands the key use of sound in comedy. A comedy in the sound era must be able to use sound as a punchline, not merely as an accompaniment to the visual. The comedy isn't in the dialogue but in the voices. Chaplin uses this again during Hynkel's first speech. The comedy is entirely in Chaplin's voice.

Next comes the silent comedy. The missile follows Chaplin's barber as he tries to examine it. Once the barber is given this job, there is no sound. No music, no footsteps, nothing. Chaplin knows what we expect coming into the movie. We paid money to see Chaplin running around without sound, so Chaplin gives us just that. It's well done, of course, but it almost feels obligatory. Chaplin doesn't have another moment like this in the rest of the film, which is unfortunate, especially considering Jack Oakie's screentime is a career low for Chaplin as a director. Nevertheless, this moment proves to us that Chaplin still knows how to work without sound.

This scene ends with the reintroduction of sound. As the missile begins firing sparks, we know that things have just become funnier. We don't need the sound to know what's going on, yet Chaplin gives it to us. The sound gives these new developments an immediacy that heightens the tension and hilarity. The sound, following the absolute silence as it does, is as shocking to us as it is the the barber. It would have lacked that if it were silent.

City Lights isn't completely silent, as many think. Whenever the millionaire's gun is fired, there is a bang to go with it. This seems to be Chaplin's main use of actual sound. A slip is accompanied by a slide whistle, and most bangs come with a loud drum, but the gun doesn't get an instrument. Watch between 8:30 and 9:30:

The explosion draws us back into some sort of reality. The film is, if nothing else, a fantasy. We never need to fear for the Tramp, because his falls aren't real. They're timed to drums, just as every appearance of the blind girl comes with violins. It is a world distinctly different from ours, except for the gun. The gun fires like a real one would, and it is the only connection between the Tramp's world and the real world. Sound is the connection, and it lies at the heart of the film. Of course, it is the sound of the car door closing that makes the blind girl mistake the Tramp for a millionaire. In this way, Chaplin points to sound as a way of deceit. The gun is the only thing that is real. Even at this point, Chaplin's opinions on violence shine through. We don't need to fear for the Tramp. We need to fear the gun. No matter what, that is real.

Steamboat Sundae Monday

2007-09-03T13:41:00.000-04:00

When exploring the depths of YouTube, it's easy to find a few videos that would make a great Sundae Monday, but which never get the chance to be exposed. Various things happen, including movie releases, DVD releases, or something important in my life which inspires a new, very timely, Sundae Monday. This leaves some good videos waiting in a queue which never seems to shorten. This week is one of those weeks when I finally get a chance to show what has always been pushed aside. Despite Labor Day, my job ending, and various other events, I present, for no particular reason, Mickey Mouse in all his glory.

First, Steamboat Willie, the eternal classic that put Mickey on the map.

It's interesting to see what a deplorable character Mickey is in this cartoon, using ducks and goats for his own enjoyment. It also introduces an early rivalry, and can serve for many viewers as an introduction to Black Pete, the cat. Pete is more known now for being a generic villain to Goofy and Donald, but his early bouts with Mickey helped establish him as the Disney villain to go to.

The Gallopin' Gaucho more directly displays Pete's villainous tendencies, and it also helps define Mickey's relationship with Minnie. The next was the first Mickey short I ever saw, and one that helped define my childhood. Notice Pete is back again, this time as a dog catcher.

And finally, I couldn't have Steamboat Willie here without the appropriate counterpart...

He Used to Be Such A Good Director...

2007-08-28T20:48:00.000-04:00

This post is definitely NOT an entry into the Bizarro Blog-A-Thon hosted by Piper at Lazy Eye Theatre. I believe everything I say in this post, and whatever you do, you should not go to the hub of the Blog-A-Thon, because it is an incredibly boring read.

It's hard to deny David Lynch's place among the greatest living directors. This is the man who gave us Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart, The Straight Story, and Mulholland Dr.. No matter how you cut that, it's impressive. Lynch has become a master at telling linear stories in a non-linear manner, culminating in the masterpiece of the new millenium, Mulholland Dr. However, Lynch has taken it a bit too far. His latest work, INLAND EMPIRE suffers from what everyone accused Tideland of: auteurism unchecked. This leads to various problems with the film, and serious questions about both Lynch and his very vocal supporters.

I would go into a plot description, but any attempt beyond the film's tagline of "A Woman In Trouble" is an exercise in futility. The film meanders between an undefinable number of "plots" that revolve around Nikki Grace (Laura Dern) and a cursed film production. Dern, over the course of the film, plays a number of roles, at least 4 by my count, through we never know which one she is playing at any given time.

Dern has received great praise for her performance in this film, but the only positive thing I can say is that she managed to survive the movie. This isn't meant to be a slight against Dern, who has done some great work, and some of that for Lynch (Wild at Heart comes to mind), but the film butchers any sort of consistency she could have given to the role. It hardly seems possible that any of the characters Dern plays could exist as aspects of one whole character, as some would claim.

One of the great successes of Mulholland Dr. was the presence of an omnipotent being at its core. No matter how odd the film got, we could feel that Lynch was carefully controlling everything we saw. Everything is there for a reason, and Lynch's camera never leaves that in doubt. Such a presence is lacking in INLAND EMPIRE, and that greatly damages any faith I could put in the film. Knowing the construction of the movie (Lynch shot scenes immediately after writing them, only later beginning to connect them into a whole) only weakens my trust in Lynch. The film doesn't play by any rules, as Mulholland Dr. does, and the freedom, while admirable as an experiment, doesn't cohere properly into a solid movie.

The quality of the images doesn't do the movie any favors, either. Lynch says that he will never return to film again, and that is unfortunate. The images are grimy and, though atmospheric, they take away from the overall impact a film like this could have. INLAND EMPIRE seems allergic to sunlight, and that feels much more a result of Lynch's use of digital video than any symbolism he may have intended.

INLAND EMPIRE is an embarrassment to David Lynch, and it should be to anyone who truly loves his work. Lynch has gone off the deep end, and he shows no signs of coming back. Please do, Dave. I miss the control you once possessed over your worse instincts.

Bizarro Sundae Monday

2007-08-27T22:52:00.000-04:00

Piper over at Lazy Eye Theater has declared a Bizarro Blog-A-Thon. As of this point, every entry in the blog-a-thon has been in praise of a film/actor who is generally disliked. I hope to take this the other way. I plan to take David Lynch's INLAND EMPIRE down a peg, despite the fact that it was my number 1 for 2006. I will try to make the best argument I can without resorting to cheap sarcasm in an effort to better appreciate a film I already love. That is what I hope these bizarro days can bring out in people: the ability to reevaluate a film or actor so that they can better appreciate the film on its own terms.

But enough pompous speeches. BIZARRO!!!

And no Bizarro video collection would be complete without a little Sealab 2021.

No Speak-a di English

2007-08-22T07:21:00.000-04:00

If I'm going to be completely honest, I'm a little hurt that I wasn't included in the nominating committee for the Top Foreign Language Films List as organized by Edward Copeland of Edward Copeland on Film. But then again, he was probably right. My knowledge of foreign film is pedestrian at best, though I'd like to think I could have helped, say Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown or The Virgin Spring get one step closer to the list. But what's past is past, and there are 121 wonderful options to choose from. For complete rules and regulations, click here.

I've been attempting to expand my knowledge of film a lot in the past few weeks, but little of that has come in the field of foreign film. The convenience of TiVo and Turner Classic Movies has allowed me great access to old Hollywood, and I need that as much as foreign films at this point in my life. It's a constant choice, one which I hope becomes easier as I need to see fewer Tracey and Hepburn films and more Godard and Fellini. In fact, of the 121 nominees for the list, I have only seen 30. I cannot in any good conscience select 25 films to be the greatest of all time when I haven't seen 91. And so, having learned Piper's lesson, I will not be participating in this poll. I will, however, list below the 91 films I have not seen and the ballot I would submit if I were submitting. Feel free to skip over them and watch Sunrise. Better yet, please give me some tips on which to tackle first. Other than Breathless and 8 1/2, I have no idea where to begin.

The 91 films that have now significantly risen on my To-See List:

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Amarcord directed by Federico Fellini
Amores Perros directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu
Andrei Rublev directed by Andrei Tarkovsky
Ashes and Diamonds directed by Andrzej Wajda
Au Hasard Balthazar directed by Robert Bresson
The Battle of Algiers directed by Gillo Pontecorvo
Beauty and the Beast directed by Jean Cocteau
Belle de Jour directed by Luis Bunuel
The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Three Colors: Blue directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski
The Blue Angel directed by Josef von Sternberg
Breathless directed by Jean-Luc Godard (Okay, this one can't rise any more. It is #1 on my To-See List)
Celine and Julie Go Boating directed by Jacques Rivette
Chungking Express directed by Wong Kar-Wai
Cleo From 5 to 7 directed by Agnes Varda
Come and See directed by Elem Klimov
The Conformist directed by Bernardo Bertolucci
Contempt directed by Jean-Luc Godard
The Cranes Are Flying directed by Mikheil Kalatozishvili
Cries and Whispers directed by Ingmar Bergman
Das Boot directed by Wolfgang Petersen
Day of Wrath directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer
The Decalogue directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski
Dersu Uzala directed by Akira Kurosawa
The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie directed by Luis Bunuel
The Double Life of Veronique directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski
8 1/2 directed by Federico Fellini
Exterminating Angel directed by Luis Bunuel
Eyes Without a Face directed by Georges Franju
Fanny and Alexander directed by Ingmar Bergman
Farewell My Concubine directed by Chen Kaige
Forbidden Games directed by René Clément
The Gospel According to St. Matthew directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini
The Great Silence directed by Sergio Corbucci
High and Low directed by Akira Kurosawa
Hiroshima Mon Amour directed by Alain Resnais
Ikiru directed by Akira Kurosawa
La Dolce Vita directed by Federico Fellini
La Strada directed by Federico Fellini
Last Year at Marienbad directed by Alain Resnais
L'Atalante directed by Jean Vigo
Late Spring directed by Yasujiro Ozu
L'Avventura directed by Michelangelo Antonioni
L'Eclisse directed by Michelangelo Antonioni
The Leopard directed by Luchino Visconti
Le Samourai directed by Jean-Pierre Melville
Lola Montes directed by Max Ophuls
The Marriage of Maria Braun directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Masculin-Feminin directed by Jean-Luc Godard
My Night at Maud's directed by Eric Rohmer
Nights of Cabiria directed by Federico Fellini
Nosferatu the Vampyre directed by Werner Herzog
Open City directed by Roberto Rossellini
Ordet directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer
Orpheus directed by Jean Cocteau
Persona directed by Ingmar Bergman
Pickpocket directed by Robert Bresson
Pierrot le fou directed by Jean-Luc Godard
Playtime directed by Jacques Tati
Raise the Red Lantern directed by Zhang Yimou
Three Colors: Red directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski
The Red Desert directed by Michelangelo Antonioni
Rififi directed by Jules Dassin
Rocco and His Brothers directed by Luchino Visconti
Sansho the Bailiff directed by Kenji Mizoguchi
Satantango directed by Béla Tarr
Scenes from a Marriage directed by Ingmar Bergman
Seven Beauties directed by Lina Wertmuller
Shoot the Piano Player directed by Francois Truffaut
Smiles of a Summer Night directed by Ingmar Bergman
Sonatine directed by Takeski Kitano
Stolen Kisses directed by Francois Truffaut
Story of the Late Chrysanthemums directed by Kenji Mizoguchi
Suspiria directed by Dario Argento
Tampopo directed by Juzo Itami
Throne of Blood directed by Akira Kurosawa
The Tin Drum directed by Volker Schlöndorff
To Live directed by Zhang Yimou
Ugetsu monogatari directed by Kenji Mizoguchi
Umberto D directed by Vittorio de Sica
The Umbrellas of Cherbourg directed by Jacques Demy
The Vanishing directed by George Sluizer
The Wages of Fear directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot
Three Colors: White directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski
Wild Strawberries directed by Ingmar Bergman
Wings of Desire directed by Wim Wenders
Woman in the Dunes directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara
Yi Yi: A One and a Two directed by Edward Yang
Y Tu Mama Tambien directed by Alfonso Cuaron
Z directed by Costa-Gavras

The first 11 features on the next list made my own personal Top 100, but they were not the only ones. It's too bad that El Topo or Hard-Boiled didn't make the nominees . . .

1. The Seven Samurai directed by Akira Kurosawa

2. The Bicycle Thief directed by Vittorio de Sica

3. Yojimbo directed by Akira Kurosawa

4. In the Mood for Love directed by Wong Kar-Wai

5. M directed by Fritz Lang

6. Day for Night directed by Francois Truffaut

7. Aguirre, the Wrath of God directed by Werner Herzog

8. Band of Outsiders directed by Jean-Luc Godard

9. Viridiana directed by Luis Bunuel

10. Talk to Her directed by Pedro Almodovar

11. The Seventh Seal directed by Ingmar Bergman

12. The Rules of the Game directed by Jean Renoir

13. Black Orpheus directed by Marcel Camus

14. The Earrings of Madame De... directed by Max Ophuls

15. Rashomon directed by Akira Kurosawa

16. The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser directed by Werner Herzog

17. Children of Paradise directed by Marcel Carne

18. Spirited Away directed by Hayao Miyazaki

19. The 400 Blows directed by Francois Truffaut

20. Grand Illusion directed by Jean Renoir

21. Tokyo Story directed by Yasujiro Ozu

22. Army of Shadows directed by Jean-Pierre Melville

23. Ran directed by Akira Kurosawa

24. Jules and Jim directed by Francois Truffaut

25. City of God directed by Fernando Meirelles and Katia Lund

Sundae Monday

2007-08-20T20:57:00.000-04:00

I think I have struck the motherlode. The YouTube silent film democracy has taken up the cause of uploading entire silent films in 10 minute clips (unfortunately, that is the limit YouTube has placed on the length of a video). Most of these films are more obscure, such as A Woman of Affairs and Jesus of Nazareth. However, this person has also uploaded one of the most famous silent films of all time, which I present below. Yes, the 9 videos below are Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans. Enjoy. I know I will.

You've Got Mail Around the Corner

2007-08-19T20:08:00.000-04:00

It's always fascinating to discover the original after the remake. Even the experience of watching a film like Angels With Dirty Faces at this point is informed by The Departed. And so, having seen Nora Ephon's You've Got Mail more than once (that comes with having two sisters and no brothers to override the vote), I approached The Shop Around the Corner.

Blogger's Note: I have seen The Shop Around the Corner and Trouble in Paradise, but no other Ernst Lubitsch films. Any comments I make concerning Lubitsch is only with the knowledge of those two films. I'm sorry. I'm working on it.

Of course there are notable differences between these two films. You've Got Mail puts a considerable anti-corporate spin to its story, missing the irony in its release by Warner Brothers. However, there are more important differences in dissecting the films' quality. And no, I hope this won't end as merely bashing Nora Ephron and raising Lubitsch to the heavens. I found The Shop Around the Corner to be lacking, especially when compared with Trouble in Paradise.

The Shop Around the Corner focuses on a relationship built on anonymous letters. The letters are barely read, but their snippets are eloquent. Alfred Kralik (James Stewart) is too smart for his job, and so sprinkles his letters with literary quotes (only Victor Hugo is read aloud). This relative mystery leaves our characters as idealisms of their genders. They are smart, witty, and charming, as most people would like to appear on paper. This, along with the fact that the film is set in Hungary, lends an air of fantasy to the whole thing; a good movie is a time away from our boring lives and with the people we wish were with us.

You've Got Mail is entirely of its time. Modern enough to have the internet, yet old enough to be naive about it, the film treads a careful line that couldn't be followed today. Anonymous chats online are now much more in turn with the dark side and obvious potential for false identities, ala Perfect Stranger (no I haven't seen it, but the trailer told me more than I needed to know). This sort of innocence creates its own fantasy. Unfortunately, this film lets us into its characters' heads. We get to see much more of the conversations, and they are decidedly lesser than those in The Shop Around the Corner. Godfather references are supposed to come across as an insight into the minds of men, but it just sounds like an embarrassing generalization of the opposite sex. Of course, it's a welcome change from the traditional reverse, but that doesn't excuse the cliches.

Next is the characters themselves. One of the defining moments of The Shop Around the Corner, at least for me, is the introduction of Klara Novak (Margaret Sullivan). She is introduced both through her credentials and her impressive skill as a saleswoman. She is clearly someone who deserves our respect for her intelligence and charm. Kralik, though not nearly as charming, has the courage to stand up to his boss and the innate ability to know what is right in any given situation. Kathleen Kelly (Meg Ryan) is defined by her job and the conflict of her small shop versus the big bad corporation. Joe Fox (Tom Hanks) is given more, but that's only because of his position in life. Joe is in a relationship with a superficial bimbo (Parker Posey), and he comes from a long line of rich old men who have children in their 70s. He gets to realize that his life is bizarre in all the wrong ways. Kathleen gets to fight the inevitable closing of her small, personal shop.

It's the usual dichotomy. He gets the humor and she gets the pathos. Both actors are well suited for their roles, and I will give credit to the film for nailing the way that Starbucks has consumed so many people. Of course, obvious product placement like that is a problem in and of itself, but it almost feels justified here. The Starbucks monologues are actually well thought out and insightful, unlike tired Godfather generalizations. However, You've Got Mail still lacks the otherworldly fantasy that The Shop Around the Corner achieves. I'm still unsure if this is a good thing or not. It is certainly indicative of the era.

Neither film simply relies on cliches to describe their main characters, though both have an overreliance on cliches to define the rest of the cast. It's easy to knock Greg Kinnear for playing Greg Kinnear, but the problem is that the criticism is, for the most part, true. Most of his roles are very similar, and only recently has he begun expanding, with roles in The Bad News Bears. Parker Posey always creates interesting characters, but her character acting leaves little room to get to know her Patricia. Similarly, Joseph Schildkraut is deliciously slimy, but we never really get any motivation. Each character, outside of the main couple, can be easily summarized in a sentence or two, but maybe that's the point.

We don't want Dabney Coleman to steal too many scenes or to give William Tracy too much screen time (he really does steal every scene he's in). These are ultimately stories about couples. Each character stands out from their surroundings yet can easily fit in when needed. Kralik, when necessary, can become the yes-man that Hugo Matuscheck Frank Morgan), but he always strives for more. Novak is smart enough to read Tolstoy, yet she funnels her brilliance into her job and her letters. Joe Fox, though he accepts the trappings of his lifestyle, would still rather go to Kathleen's shop than his own chain. Kathleen tries to control her emotions, to fit in with the heartless society around her, but she cannot. Her emotions make her recognizably human, especially when she goes to Fox's bookstore. She goes to Starbucks, but she doesn't want to be defined by her latte. It's understandable.

Each of these films works within the realms of romantic fantasy, but You've Got Mail has much tighter boundaries. Instead of pre-War Hungary, we get New York City. Instead of two closet know-it-alls, we get two semi-ordinary people from different classes. The modern film must be grounded in some sort of reality in order to connect with us. The Shop Around the Corner is free to fantasize. Its audience expected it. Before film noir and WWII darkened the mood of film, the medium was more about transportation. What girl wouldn't want to end up with Jimmy Stewart? Every guy wants a girl who's smart but still needs some protection. With The Shop Around the Corner, you can imagine yourself there. With You've Got Mail, you're already there. These people are you. It takes some of the fun out of it.

Sundae Monday

2007-08-13T22:43:00.000-04:00

I am sorry, dear readers, for I have lied to you. Well, I did not realize that what I was saying was untrue, but I have proven myself wrong. A couple of weeks ago, I stated that I was anticipating The Simpsons Movie more than anything else this year. Only a few days after that, I was reminded of something I wanted more. In fact, I literally started salivating at the thought. That's right, folks. This week marks the DVD release of the Best Film of 2006, INLAND EMPIRE. I really want to see the film again, this time more removed, as well as David Lynch making quinoa. The whole thing is very exciting for me, so I present some random David Lynch videos to hopefully excite you too.

First, David wants you to clean up New York before the rats take over.

Next, David welcomes you to the Third Place.

The famous Red Room Dream from Twin Peaks . . .

. . . and of course, like everything else in pop culture, the Simpsons parody.

I Feel the Need. The Need to Feed . . . On Blood

2007-08-09T17:40:00.001-04:00

It's hard to accurately describe Cronos. I found myself reminded, at various points, of David Cronenberg, Terry Gilliam, and The Maltese Falcon. That's fairly lofty company for the third film from suddenly "it" director Guillermo del Toro. Does the film deserve it? Yes and no.

One of del Toro's strong suits (as he showed last year with Pan's Labyrinth) is his ability to work with children. This is a rare skill, and I might venture to say that he is the best director of children this side of Gilliam or Spielberg. Even though Tamara Shanath doesn't speak a word until the final scene, she conveys her emotions perfectly, and she gives a portrait of a young girl entering a world that seems unbearable. Of course, she has adapted to this harsh world enough to save her grandfather in the final scene, her innocence yet another casualty of this cruel world. In this way, the story is reminiscent of Kafka's "The Metamorphosis." I am of the belief that the true transformation in that story is that of Grete, Gregor Samsa's sister, from caring to cruel, and that is echoed in Cronos. Though Jesus Gris (I'll get out the subtlety hammer) undergoes the literal change from the Cronos device, the story's true arc follows Aurora's initiation into the adult world.

There's more to the story than just a young girl's entrance to a strange world. Cronos puts a unique spin on the vampire genre. In fact, Jesus never actually attacks anyone out of bloodlust. He merely tries to find loose blood wherever he can, including a Christmas party. The look in his eyes when he does see the blood recalls not Dracula, but a lowly junkie in a drug movie. Like in David Cronenberg's Rabid, the story's main focus is on someone who, for reasons beyond their control, feel a compulsive hunger for blood. Though Rabid reaches for more storylines (to great success), Cronos barely leaves Jesus. We watch him suffer as he attempts to maintain his composure in society, barely able to keep from licking the blood off a man's broken nose. Instead we watch him degrade himself as he licks blood off the floor. For all that it matters at this point in the story, he might as well have been snorting cocaine off the lip of the toilet. It's the same level of degradation, and it has the same harmful impact on his family.

The first time he uses the Cronos device deliberately, we are given the point of view of Aurora, watching from the stairs above him. What we see is as foreign to us as heroin would appear to Aurora. Though Aurora never prepares the Cronos device, she remains as complacent as Jeliza-Rose in Tideland with her grandfather's use of this dangerous drug. After that first time, when she tries to hide the syringe, er I mean Cronos device, from Jesus, she hides the Cronos device for him, unaware of anything except that it makes him feel good.

This film is far more fun than this plot lets on. All the somberness of the drug addiction and maturation is lightened by an amusing subplot featuring a wonderfully over-the-top performance from Ron Perlman. Perlman plays the nephew of the only man who knows the secrets of the Cronos device. Dieter de la Guardia, as played by Claudio Brook, is like an uncharismatic, terminally ill Kasper Gutman, lusting after the Black Bird, I mean Cronos device. Perlman's character, Angel, is alternately charming and vicious. He is a man who, despite his light colored suits and sensitive demeanor when dealing with Jesus and Aurora, shows the capability to do terrible things. Angel's desire for a nosejob, in retrospect seems to exist for the sole purpose of a late punchline (expected but still funny), but it also adds a dimension to the character that was desperately needed. This desire shows a weakness in the character, and it serves to underline his self-loathing. Angel hates his life, serving his uncle's wishes, and he hates his appearance. It his his hope to escape from both and achieve a fresh start. Of course, since he is an underling, he fate was sealed from his first moment on screen.

Therein lies the main problem with Cronos. It is a very good rehash of genre characters and cliches, but it still relies on those cliches too often. It lacks any siginficant originality that would separate it from the designation of second tier Cronenberg. The idea of combining the insect world with the Catholic world is would be worth fleshing out (pardon the expression), but del Toro sees little use for it outside of a deep thought to throw in with the vampirism and addiction. Cronos is a very good genre film. It doesn't aspire to be much more than that. Unfortunately, this sort of genre film has already been done, and better.

Kentucky Fried Sundae Monday

2007-08-06T23:00:00.001-04:00

As I was browsing the circulars for this week, I noticed a steal. Circuit City has Kentucky Fried Movie, along with some other good movies, on sale for dirt cheap, at least by DVD standards. I don't know if you know Kentucky Fried Movie, but it was directed by John Landis before he made Animal House and The Blues Brothers, and it was written by the Zucker brothers and Jim Abrahams before they went on to craft Airplane! and then go steadily downhill. The format almost fails as a film, but succeeds greatly as pure sketch comedy. The format is an awkward combination of fake movie previews and TV news interruptions (there's urine in your popcorn. Film at 11).

The centerpiece of the film is a Samuel L. Bronkowitz production, A Fistful of Yen, a direct parody of Enter the Dragon. Of course, Samuel L. Bronkowitz won't make much sense unless you know Samuel L. Bronston, the mastermind behind "Not 3 or 4, but ALL the known emotions!" And now I present to you, A Fistful of Yen:

I Am the Problem

2007-08-03T20:26:00.000-04:00

I'm sure you've read about it. Everyone has something to say about the OFC Top 100. Almost all of it is negative. My first response upon reading these criticisms was one of personal offense. After all, I included All About Eve, Pandora's Box, and two Pedro Almodovar films on my original list. Clearly I am not at fault, right? Sadly, I am. I am a 20 year old white male. I included The Usual Suspects (#22) and The Incredibles (#74) among my original list, excluding, say, The Passion of Joan of Arc or The Rules of the Game, which I recently watched and rewatched, respectively. Without a doubt, after a third viewing of The Rules of the Game, it would make my Top 100, but that latest viewing came after I submitted my original ballot. I am sure that in a year, my list will be more adventurous. Films like Men at Work will fall by the wayside as I discover more about films.

It's interesting though, to see which films people complain about when they talk about how this list isn't what it could have been. I've heard Ed Wood, The Shawshank Redemption, and American History X thrown around, but not The Big Lebowski or Fight Club. If we're going to blame the shoddiness of the list on the demographic, then why not talk about all the "mistakes" that were made.

I personally think It's a Wonderful Life shouldn't be on that list, but that's just one opinion. Do I fault the voters? No. Most people like that movie. I'm just heartless. I do wonder, though, how Ghostbusters ended up on that list while the collective works of the Marx Brothers and Mel Brooks didn't. More than anything else, though, I found this list helpful in raising some films on my "To See" list. 8 1/2 and Nosferatu are now at the top of my Netflix queue, or they would be if I had a Netflix queue. But this sort of list can help someone like me actively seek out films.

My movie-watching habits are very passive. I wait for something to come to theaters or appear on TCM. TCM is helping me significantly connect with old Hollywood, but the foreign films are much harder to come by. Occasionally, I will seek out a film, but it must be something I really want to see. This sort of a list helps greatly in giving me reasons to be an active consumer. For that reason alone, I think this list is a good idea.

I have ideas for experiments involving this list. First, I think it would be interesting to take the same 55 people who contributed to this list and ask them a year from now to resubmit lists and go through the procedure again. See if the adolescence that many people complain plague this list slowly dissolves. Second, I think we should open it up more. Truly make it an event. I only knew about it because of Edward Copeland, and the whole process felt a bit rushed (we had one week from the announcement to submit our original lists). If we open it up more, publicize it for everyone to know about, and give more time for people to think about the films they've seen, then the list can be even greater. And maybe then less people will blame the young white men for dooming the list.

At least this list has more than one Orson Welles film. What about that? If we're going to complain about The Princess Bride, then shouldn't we praise the few risks that were taken? Complain if you want that only one Howard Hawks film is on there and it's at #95. At least it's on there. Maybe now someone will look at him who wouldn't have done so before. That's all we can hope for. And really, that's what this list is about.

Sundae Monday

2007-07-30T19:39:00.000-04:00

I'm sure my first exposure to Ingmar Bergman is not uncommon. Woody Allen loved the man so much that it permeates the screen. I remember hearing Bergman's name come up in Mary Wilkie's Academy of the Overrated in Manhattan, but I had little knowledge of the man or why Mary would hate The Silence so much. Max von Sydow's presence in Hannah and Her Sisters has little effect if you've never seen The Seventh Seal or any other work von Sydow did for Bergman.

I have only seen two Bergman films, but both are in my Top 100. The Seventh Seal and The Virgin Spring are films that captivate upon first sight and unlock hidden meanings with successive viewings, like all great films. What appears to be a very cold, distant style gives way to an all too human drama. It is a sad realization that we cannot hold off death forever, but we can feel better about it if we can give life to someone else. Hope literally springs from the death of a young girl. Bergman often works in metaphors, as with a man's attempt to take down a sapling.

I wish I could talk more about Bergman. It's sad that the man had to die for me to put his films near the top of my "To See" list. First this week, we have the beginning of The Seventh Seal:

Next, a dream from Wild Strawberries:

Finally, French and Saunders have another one of those Bergman days: