tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90038619331604118242024-03-18T22:58:57.053-04:00Daily Film GrindA film a day keeps insanity at bay. Here's what I watched today...G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-50200892380690306932016-03-31T11:46:00.000-04:002016-03-31T11:46:06.332-04:00Ain't Them Bodies Saints (USA; David Lowery, 2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: left;"> Despite what the film's title might lead one to believe, there aren't any saints to be found here, but rather morally conflicted characters whose dreams for domestic peace always lead to a violence born from plans that were intended to make them come true. When southern sweethearts Ruth and Bob (Rooney Mara & Casey Affleck) end up trapped in an abandoned shack and engaged in a shootout with Dixie cops following a botched robbery, Bob takes the blame for wounding the officer (Ben Foster) that was actually shot by his pregnant wife. With her being acquitted and him being found guilty, we jump about 6 years later when Ruth is told (by the officer she shot) that her husband and little girl's father has escaped from jail to finally begin their life as a family. However, not only will Bob have to outsmart the law and lay low to even contact Ruth, he'll also have to deal with a patriotic protector (Keith Carradine) warning him to stay away from her and the gang of trigger-happy rednecks whose money he robbed. Not to mention the formerly-wounded officer who has taken a liking to Ruth and aspires to fill the masculine void in her life; the influence of which, the audience can't help but think, might be better on the little girl in the long term than that of a jailbird on the run. But girls do love that bad boy...</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"> Beautiful to look at and filled with engaging sequences fueled by solid performances from a terrific ensemble cast, <i>Ain't Them Bodies Saints</i> is welcome addition to this new wave of crime pictures that seem more concerned with the circumstances and motivation of the perpetrators than the crime itself (<i>Killing Them Softly, The Drop, The Place Beyond the Pines </i>come to mind). Furthermore, the fact that it takes place in the South adds a poetic touch to the sudden brutality and romantic futility displayed on screen, not too mention all the beautiful settings. In fact, the smooth, over-lapping editing, quick narrative jumps and sporadic use of voice-overs (mainly when reading lovers' correspondences) somewhat recalls Terrence Malick before he went all esoteric on us (which I'm not saying is necessarily a bad thing). I kept thinking that this felt like his first film <i>Badlands</i> if Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek were apart during the whole movie. Standing out on many cinematic fronts, <i>Saints</i> manages to imbue traces of hope in what is ultimately a tragic southern tale of love gone wrong. </span></div>
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<br />G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-91833083254242302272016-03-25T10:04:00.004-04:002016-03-25T10:04:50.773-04:00Brooklyn (Ireland/UK/Canada; John Crowley, 2015)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are so many facets of <i> Brooklyn </i>that distinguishes it from most of the formulaic films being released today that it's hard to find a place to start. Perhaps most striking of which is that there are practically no bad guys in the picture. Even when the prospect of one seems to be introduced (Jessica Paré as the department store boss come to mind), they are quickly redeemed by their inherently compassionate humanity. The absence of external agents of misery permits Crowley to focus on the hardships that take place within Ellis Lacey (Saoirse Ronan) rather than without, her internal conflicts in the face of an unknown land, new love and familial estrangement setting the stage for a seemingly simple tale that explores the complex idiosyncrasies of the heart. </div>
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While ultimately a love story (to paraphrase James Ellroy, "All drama is boy meets girl."), <i>Brooklyn </i>is also an exploration of the mid-20th century immigration experience as seen through the innocent eyes of a young Irish lass sent away across the Atlantic by a sister who wants a better life for her. Leaving home against her will, Ellis' progressive adaption to her new homeland is increasingly positive, a gradual change that, in a clever use of mise-en-scène, is visually attributed to her jacket color. Upon her arrival, she is always wearing a green jacket, making her stand out from the crowds in the street and emphasizing her sense of alienation, the color literally suggestive of her home country and the fact that she's still 'green' when it comes to becoming an American. Once her home sickness has passed, her jacket turns red when her eyes are opened to the true Irish condition in America and she becomes fired up in her will to succeed. This fire leads to her meeting Tony Fiorrello (Emory Cohen), an Italian boy who attends Irish dances because he like Irish girls and who falls head over heels for her. When their relationship is cemented, Ellis switches to yellow blouses and cardigans, which she mainly wears throughout the rest of the film. Even when a tragedy brings her back to Ireland and threatens to tear her and Tony apart, she keeps wearing yellow in a possible illustration of her continued subconscious loyalty to her Brooklyn beau. </div>
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When Ellis returns to Ireland, the concept of home is tested as everything and everyone around her seems to be begging for her to stay, going so far as setting her up with a handsome Irish gentleman in an attempt to get her to settle back down on the Emerald Isle. While she keeps mentioning that she's heading back to America, her actions don't particularly reflect any real hurry. Eventually, she comes to discover the undeniable truth of the age-old proverb proclaiming home to be where the heart is. </div>
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I sporadically kept thinking of Betty Smith's book <i>A Tree Grows in Brooklyn </i>as they both deal with the blossoming of young women in Brooklyn (the fact that Ellis is admittedly older makes one possibly see her as Francie Nolan all grown-up). More than that, both texts treat their titular borough as a character in itself, an entity that seems to have more influence in shaping their protagonists' emerging womanhood than those she meets in flesh and blood.</div>
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Speaking of characters, a venerable nod must be given to Julie Walters (<i>Mama Mia, </i>the <i>Harry Potter </i>series) who is just unrecognizable and brilliant as the head of Ellis' boarding house, Mrs. Keogh. She steals every scene she appears in, rendering the dinner scenes some of the film's most memorable sequences, if only for bringing lightening humor to a film that is definitely a mixed bag of heavy emotions. </div>
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G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-52601990953804251742016-03-20T09:35:00.001-04:002016-03-20T10:02:44.081-04:00To the Wonder (USA; Terrence Malick, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As his extensive yet enriching use of voice-overs may testify, Terrence Malick is well known for having a deep interest in observing the introspective perspective of his characters. He has the distinct gift of being able to create a symphony of words, images and sounds through which he is often able to capture the internal, tumultuous essence of what they are feeling, using the unique nature of cinema in a literal attempt to make emotions tangible. With <i>Tree of Life</i>, however, Malick additionally seemed intent to try to recreate the process of memory, arguably the deepest form of introspection possible. The same could be said about <i>To the Wonder. </i>While the story is (somewhat) more linear than <i>Tree, </i>he continues to eschew clear narrative connections by favoring a wandering style of editing and prioritizing poetic, narrated texts (and beautifully invasive music) over spoken dialogue, the presence of which is minimal (or inaudible) throughout the film. </div>
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Taking our emotions for a hectic ride, Malick possibly comes the closest I've ever seen to capturing and illustrating the conflicting inner joys and turmoils of being in love. Fairly limited narrative-wise, the film instead attempts to establish the main intimate moments of pain, passion and pleasure that make up the doomed relationship of Neil (Ben Affleck) and Marina (Olga Kurylenko). With his signature stunning photography and flowery narration voiced by Marina, Malick conveys with engaging clarity the illogical nature of love, a nature rooted in instinctual feeling and accumulated moments of intimacy rather than practical rationality. This notion can be felt in his choice of denying the audience an understanding of Neil's perspective, leaving his actions to speak for themselves, making us wonder why the hell Marina is so in love with. He's distant, afraid of commitment and overall kind of a prick, breaking the hearts of two women in the process. The answers lie in Marina's outspoken emotional process and the oneiric treatment of the intimately telling moments she shares with him, culminating in the constant fluctuation of primal emotions that is both the curse and the blessing of being in love. Marina's reasons behind her feelings are essentially seen as being irrelevant, the important part being that they exist in a powerfully undeniable way. </div>
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Another perspective adopted throughout the movie is that of Father Quintana (Javier Bardem), a parish priest that is slowly losing his faith in response to the evident futility of his social interventions, which include dealing with the faith of prisoners on death row. While his presence may seem somewhat incongruous at times with the rest of the movie, it serves to establish a link between love and faith. Some critics interpreted this as Malick stating that belief in God is necessary to make love work. Rather, I see it more as him equating faith to love, both of which are born within and require a certain amount of blind belief to go on existing. And whether you believe in <i>To the Wonder</i> or not, you will certainly feel something for it, even if only awe for the magnificent feast for the senses a new Malick film always promises. Because, much like love itself, his films are all-encompassing experiences that stay with you forever.</div>
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<br />G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-33262924656207667622016-03-17T18:53:00.000-04:002016-03-17T18:53:00.998-04:00'71 (UK; Yann Demange, 2014)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On his first day on the job, British soldier Gary Hook (Jack O'Connell) is assigned to a patrol of Belfast at a time when the Troubles are in their chaotic peak. Left behind by his troops while he and another soldier are getting beaten up by rioters, he soon finds himself on the run when a rebellious IRA youth suddenly shoots his colleague in the face. After running into a young boy sympathetic to English cause, he stumbles onto a secret Army faction planning on using the IRA's own explosive methods against them. When incompetence detonates the bomb prematurely, Hook finds himself additionally injured. What follows is a twisted game of cat and mouse in which all the top cats aren't what they seem. Both the IRA and British army are looking for him, and unfortunately, it's for the same fatal reason. </div>
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One of the most interesting aspects of <i>'71</i>'s approach in its treatment of the Troubles is how it doesn't position any of the opposing organizations in terms of moral absolutes. While either the IRA or the British government are typically portrayed in such films as being faceless, omnipresent forces of oppression and destruction, the enemy here is considered to be the conflict itself. In choosing to have a British citizen as a protagonist (the Irish perspective is generically prioritized, except maybe for <i>The Long Good Friday,</i> but this gem is one of a kind and stands alone within the thematic canon), Demange forces the viewer to abandon his or her preconceived notions regarding which side might be right or wrong, focusing instead on the social repercussions related to this brutal civil strife. He further blurs the lines of morality by establishing both groups as being plagued with inner-conflict. Individuals of both sides disagree among themselves as to what must be done with the wanted soldier, cementing even harder the idea of instability regarding the rooted ideology behind the cause of it all.<br />
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Violence is integral to the subject at hand, a fact that Demange understands yet doesn't exploit. While sporadic in appearance, the violent segments are swift, unflinching and unforgiving, painting Belfast in 1971 as a place where death comes unexpectedly fast. One shot, one bomb, one stab. Death is a given. It's death's aftermath that is of interest here, the effects of which are perhaps best illustrated in the heartbreaking post-bomb sequence where one realizes that no one is immune to its impending possibility, especially youth... And the final shootout is perhaps the most aesthetically gratifying display of sudden brutality since <i>L.A. Confidential</i>. <br />
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<br />G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-13633365880184101032016-03-16T07:35:00.003-04:002016-03-16T07:35:56.228-04:00Wild Tales (Relatos salvajes) - (Argentina; Damián Szifron, 2014)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not usually a big fan of anthology films (although whether this is actually an anthology could be cause for debate seeing as all segments here are written and directed by the same individual as opposed to being part of a collaboration between various filmmakers) but this one really takes the cake (no pun intended.. well maybe a little). The singular directorial voice present throughout all six short segments connects them in a way that feels like episodes of distant family members rather than completely separate narrative events. With sweeping camera movements, breathtaking photography and darkly effective humor, Szifron links these disparately desperate characters together in a world where revenge is the norm. Pushed to the brink of their psychological limits, these outrageously riled up characters all end up giving themselves up to the slumbering darkness that exists within us all.</div>
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Whether it's a daughter reluctantly getting even with the man who ruined her family's life, a scorned man taking everybody who ever wronged him down with him, two drivers who can't deal with their road rage, a man standing up to the abuses of municipal government, a father feeding his son to the wolves over financial complications regarding covering up his crime or a bride transforming her wedding into a twisted danse macabre after learning of her husband's infidelity during the actual wedding, there's never a dull moment in these wild tales of human irony. </div>
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Laughing or cringing, it's impossible to remain indifferent to these surprisingly powerful stories. Furthermore, you never know where they'll ultimately end up as they constantly go beyond the realms of expectations even though they all start off feeling as if conventional genres were about to unfold. The detailed yet subtle storytelling is a joy to behold, where careful attention to each shot (such as whether a little girl laughs or not at a birthday party) rewards the viewer later on for his scrutiny.</div>
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Szifron's beautifully crafted images and narrative choices go a long way in making us feel the emotional heaviness of each character's predicament. Whether you're delighted or disgusted, it's just simply impossible to look away, which is the ultimate testament to the undeniable talents of a storyteller at the top of his game. </div>
<br />G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-36136020692525092112016-03-14T13:30:00.000-04:002016-03-14T13:30:31.843-04:00Carnage (France/Germany/Poland/Spain; Roman Polanski, 2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Distancing himself from the typical cinematic manipulations for which he is renowned with films such as <i>The Tenant, Rosemary's Baby </i>or even <i>The Pianist,</i> Polanski here mostly (and appropriately) hands over the reins of the storytelling duties to the actors and their script. Adapted by Polanski and Yasmina Reza from her play <i>Le Dieu du Carnage</i>, it tells the simple tale of two sets of parents (Jodie Foster, John C. Reilly & Kate Winslet, Christoph Waltz) who meet up one afternoon to discuss the implications of a violent altercation involving their sons. Seemingly trapped in this endless discussion that always manages to endure just a little longer, tensions escalate to a point where all four ultimately rip each other to shreds with words of repressed contempt. While loyalties never last long among the members of the group, beginning with each couple's loyalty to each other, passing through a shift into a temporary gender alliance to finally culminate in a raucous state of everyone-for-themselves chaos, the one that does survive belongs to the absent characters around which this entire shit-storm revolves: the children. </div>
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Bared down to its bones, <i>Carnage </i>is a simple illustration of how once someone becomes a parent, the child's existence becomes the main object of attention, even it their absence. To paraphrase Michael Longstreet (Reilly), kids drain the life out of you and suck you dry. While obviously extreme in wording, the reality of its essence is partially acknowledged here. The influence of their actions drive the parents to the brink of insanity even when not dealing with them directly, dominating their lives on a daily basis. Furthermore, the two book-ending sequences in which we actually see the boys in question (one where the assault happens and the other showing them having supposedly made up) seem to suggest that this parental bickering is practically useless as kids will, in their own way, eventually deal with the problem themselves. </div>
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While the themes observed aren't necessarily fresh, the abundant amount of performing talent and unexpected narrative situations that are strangely easy to relate to make this a engaging portrait of domestic deterioration. In a way denouncing the possible self-aggrandizing dimensions of parenthood, the film shows how the pretext of child concern may sometimes mask true intentions of self-concern. Specific references to the children in question are relatively few and far between, even though they are the initial focus that brought all four together. The subject of conversation quickly shifts to the parents themselves. And then the scotch comes out...</div>
G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-21696266343557792042016-03-13T11:30:00.000-04:002016-03-13T11:31:57.744-04:00Gainsbourg: Vie Héroïque (France; Johann Sfar, 2010)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Apart from his notorious reputation of being France's most iconic musical bad boy, I didn't know much about Gainsbourg's life, or his music for that matter, before screening this exhilarating take on the essence of his life. Having heard his name many times during musically-themed conversations, I was aware that he had quite a following even here in Quebec,and so was curious to see what was so appealing about this deep-talking nicotine fiend.</div>
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At the end of the film, just before the credits, the director quotes himself saying the he has too much respect for Gainsbourg to attempt a realistic approach; and that in any case, it's not Gainsbourg's truths that interests him, but his lies. This statement is greatly reflective of the film's overall tone and atmosphere as the real world is constantly being intruded upon by life-sized marionettes, animated alter-egos and spontaneous musical numbers that serve to externalize the inner world of this multi-talented, eccentric artist who constantly marched to his own, destructive beat. While some of the outer-body exchanges between Gainsbourg (Eric Elmosnino) and his various forms of consciousness sometimes appear tacky and thus hard to take seriously (the four Keystone Cops in Teletubby suits especially come to mind here), the overall result is an effective portrayal of a life that seems to be more concretely rooted in fantasy than reality, including when perceived by the singer himself.</div>
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Women... One can't talk about this polished of piece of entertainment without mentioning the driving force behind Gainsbourg's tumultuous life. Whether he's trying to manipulate his mother into buying him a gun or attempting to get a woman almost 20 years his senior to take her bra off for a portrait under pretext that he can't draw them yet, he is shown to be a fervent fan of women from very early on. 12 year-old Kacey Mottet Klein is brilliant in his portrayal of a cocky Gainsbourg who knows he's going places, and wants to take every women with him on the way there. While the film is primarily interested in exploring his two main relationships, with Brigitte Bardot (Laetitia Casta) and wife Jane Birkin (Lucy Gordon), his appreciation for the female form and presence is portrayed as being equaled only by his love for cigarettes, a fact evidently well-known to all those familiar with his often sexually implicit songs. The scene in which he and Birkin present the demo of <i>Je t'aime... Moi non plus </i>to a shocked producer is priceless. </div>
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While sometimes suffering from a unsteady screenplay, this fable-like biopic quickly makes up for it with a terrific cast, a deep respect for its subject and a capacity to immerse the audience into Gainsbourg's internal universe; a universe filled with smoke, music and body heat... </div>
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Not a bad way to spend a Saturday night. </div>
G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-20384967489585774282013-02-11T11:05:00.000-05:002013-02-11T11:09:18.953-05:00The Chaser (South Korea; Hong-jin Na, 2008)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ten minutes into the film, I thought I knew where it was ultimately going. Twenty minutes later, my projection was proven erroneous as I was forcefully reminded that this wasn't a Hollywood picture. Had it been so, the premise of an ex-cop-turned-pimp trying to find the latest one of his girls to have disappeared at the hands of a psychopathic client would have kept both antagonistic characters apart until the film's climactic ending. In <i>The Chaser, </i>Joong-ho Eom (Yun-seok Kim) catches up to the degenerate Young-min Jee (Jung-woo Ha) rather quickly. Therefore, while there are two flat-out chases that occur on foot between them (one uphill and one down; which is interesting in itself), the bulk of the movie focuses on the irony that exists in regards to the incapability of prosecuting Young-min due to a seeming lack of evidence (such as the absence of bodies and the police's inability to find the suspect's residence; never mind that he repeatedly confesses to multiple homicides and aggressively attacks one of his interrogators). With that in mind, the film essentially follows Joong-ho's rising frustration (and decreasing selfishness as his quest transforms itself from a business asset retrieval into a redemptive mission of vengeance) at being continuously stonewalled regarding Young-min's prosecution. The latter's repeated beatings at the hand of the former puts the pimp (who is shown to be a better detective with his lonesome sidekick Meathead than the entire police department and all of its available resources). Through its critical mockery of the Korean judicial system and its inner operators, the title is consistently made ironic by the fact that the titular chaser keeps chasing a target that he's already caught, making this one of the most original rendition of the cop/serial killer genre that I've seen in quite some time.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-407738302667812602012-12-31T08:49:00.001-05:002012-12-31T08:53:25.172-05:00The Loved Ones (Australia; Sean Byrne, 2009)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some people just can't take rejection. Brent (Xavier Samuel) learns this the hard way when he turns down Lola Stone's (Robin McLeavy) request to accompany her to the school dance. The fact that he has a girlfriend matters little to Lola, who ultimately gets her date with Brent whether he likes or not. In the vein of <i>Hard Candy</i> (David Slade, 2005) and <i>Audition</i> (Takashi Miike, 1999), <i>Loved Ones</i> examines the gender power shifts involved when a woman/girl is in control of a man/boy. However, unlike the other mentioned titles, the male victim in <i>Loved Ones</i> isn't presented in a way that makes us feel he deserves it, which in turn removes any sympathy we could have possibly felt for the sadistic female perpetrator. While the film somehow attempts to explain Lola's behavior as a consequence of the pressures imposed by our increasingly media-centered society on today's youth, the idea is too-quickly passed over and weakly presented in the first place. Which leaves us with just a crazy, psychotic teenage serial kidnapper/murderer who can't take no for an answer. Far from being detrimental to the picture's enjoyment, the lack of conclusive explanation for Lola's erratic behavior makes the film that more enjoyable as it increases the viewer's discomfort and intensifies our reaction to the sadism portrayed on screen. It also accentuates our satisfaction when Brent finally fights back.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-16559164983466018292012-12-17T09:36:00.001-05:002012-12-17T09:36:06.952-05:00Lawless (USA; John Hillcoat, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Being a big fan of the 2005 western <i>The Proposition</i>, I was looking forward to this new collaborative effort from writer Nick Cave and director John Hillcoat detailing the prohibition-era tribulations between the bootlegging Bondurant brothers (Shia LaBeouf, Tom Hardy and Jason Clarke) and Virginia Commonwealth appointed Deputy Charlie Rakes (Guy Pearce), the latter demanding paybacks in exchange for letting them operate their business in peace. Their refusal to oblige puts them at odds with Rakes and jumpstarts a small war in the Virginian mountains where "stills" (distilleries) are shut down one after the other. Similar to <i>The Proposition</i>, the law is shown here to be lacking the moral fabric that it claims to instill, a fabric that is incidentally embodied by those deemed criminals. However, unlike the former picture, <i>Lawless</i> suffers from an uneven script that has a hard time figuring what exactly it is trying to say. As the characters' exploration is for the most part limited to the surface, the chronology is vague and the pace perhaps too inconsistent. Hillcoat's directing, on the other hand, goes a long way in redeeming whatever shortcoming Cave's screenplay may have. The same goes for the acting. While LaBeouf's character makes incredibly stupid choices, making it hard to sympathize with him even when a mouthful of blood and teeth reduces his speech to mumbles (courtesy of a shotgun barrel to the face), the performances are for the most part very strong and engaging. Tom Hardy is especially surprising as Forrest Bondurant, the oldest and baddest sibling of the Bondurant clan who is starting to believe the legends told about his purported immortality. Guy Pearce (who was the troubled lead in <i>The Proposition</i>) is also chillingly disturbing in his portrayal of the sadistic dandy Rakes. Perhaps the biggest disappointment acting-wise, however, was the underused talents of Gary Oldman as gangster Floyd Banner. Not only was his screen time too small but Banner's role in the Bondurants' affairs is barely explored as his involvement feels arbitrary and unclear. Finally, the film is worth watching if only for the impressive soundtrack that includes a few tracks by Cave himself (of course) and other fittingly gripping pieces. </div>
<br />G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-60173963526216775332012-12-04T11:38:00.001-05:002012-12-04T11:39:46.662-05:00Skyfall (UK/USA; Sam Mendes, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Numerous times during the picture, M (Judi Dench) describes the world in which James Bond operates as existing in "the shadows" of the one perceived by the general population. Fittingly enough, this hidden world of top secret operations is brilliantly evoked by often having the actors stand in front of an excessively bright background and therefore transforming them into mere silhouettes, literally pitting shadow vs. shadow when done during fighting sequences. Additionally, seeing as the use of silhouettes is prominent in many of the series' opening credits sequences, the shadow motif extends the artistic nature of the credits to the film itself. This stylistic interpretation is only one of many elements of sophistication the photographic team of Sam Mendes and Roger Deakins brings to the Bond table. While I find the debate over whether or not this is the 'best Bond film ever' irrelevant, I can say with confidence that, form-wise, this was the most satisfying experience I personally had watching a Bond film. I must admit, however, that I'm far from being the biggest Bond fan out there. On the other hand, I have been a long-time fan of both Mendes and Deakins (especially his extensive work with the Coen brothers), their new collaboration being what initially triggered my interest for the picture and the reason why the result is one of the most memorable installments featuring Ian Fleming's troubled spy.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-26700860190337435572012-11-21T10:51:00.000-05:002012-11-21T10:51:10.184-05:00The Man with the Iron Fists (USA/Hong Kong; RZA, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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RZA has taken his passion for classic martial arts flicks to the ultimate level, not only co-writing, directing and, naturally, composing the music for this outrageous battle-fest, but also casting himself as the title character, a Buddhist-trained runaway freedman who replaces his severed forearms with, you guessed it, iron fists (although he may not be the most convincing actor around, his lack of subtlety is beneficial here). Including much of the genre-related factors that one would expect from a homage to Shaw Bros-like kung fu movies, such as feuding animal-named warrior clans, a beautifully treacherous madam, acrobatic action and Gordon Liu, <i>Man in the Iron Fists</i> goes beyond being a mere tribute to its source material and becomes an entity that stands on its own. With exaggerated blood splatter à-la-<i>Riki-Oh, </i>some of the most caricatural characters to ever grace the silver screen (Silver Lion, with his Artist-formerly-known-as-Prince wig, is especially hilarious) and stylish photography that constantly strives to be cool, the result is quite an impressive spectacle. However, while some of the fighting sequences are graceful and poetic (see the creative concept of the Gemini warriors), the bulk of the action is greatly distorted by choppy editing and brusque camera movements. This detail is compensated, on the other hand, by appropriately over-the-top performances, sensational violence and beautiful ladies, all the instant gratification one would expect from a satisfying exploitation film.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-27396182684046351312012-11-20T10:25:00.001-05:002012-11-20T10:27:51.568-05:00Holy Motors (France/Germany; Leos Carax, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you like conclusive answers with your cinema, <i>Holy Motors</i> may not be the film for you. On the other hand, if you seek cinematic creativity that offers the viewer's imagination multiple possibilities for extrapolation, then you've come to the right place. While one scene halfway through the movie partially sheds some light on the nature of Mr. Oscar's (Denis Lavant) series of bizarre 'appointments' throughout the city of Paris, the film's strength lies in the maintained magical mystery surrounding Oscar's disparate personalities that he creates in the dressing room located in the back of the limousine that drives him from one performance to the next. From Mr. Merde kidnapping Eva Mendes to a killer who dresses his victim up as himself, Mr. Oscar's face changes more often than Orlando Hudson changes baseball teams. The increasing strangeness of each 'appointment' emphasizes the elastic nature of performance in a way that underlines the unreliability of images as grounds for truth-seeking. Packed with cultural allusions, complex characters and breathtaking imagery, <i>Holy Motors</i>, through its inquisitive entertainment, realizes like few others the full potential of what cinema can be.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-740506136183643532012-11-16T09:23:00.000-05:002013-05-16T07:41:13.646-04:00The Master (USA; Paul Thomas Anderson, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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P.T. Anderson has come a long way since <i>Hard Eight</i> (1996) and <i>Boogie Nights</i> (1997). With <i>The Master</i>, he demonstrates a maturity in style that goes beyond quick dolly-ins and long, sweeping camera movements, shifting the attention away from his direction and towards the players who make his unconventional story come alive. Without a doubt <i>The Master</i> is a performer's piece, and quite a perplexing one at that. Remaining vague as to character motivation (greed, insanity, lust, love?), Anderson is a master himself at creating expectant tension out of what could easily be considered very boring and non-eventful situations, an achievement mainly made possible by his ability to bring out the best in his actors (and letting the camera roll). The 'processing' scenes pitting Joaquin Phoenix's deeply troubled WWII veteran against Philip Seymour Hoffman's Welles-like cult leader are powerful and satisfyingly disturbing. Phoenix is especially captivating in his hunched-over instability, delivering here what could possibly be his strongest performance to date (although I haven't seen <i>Two Lovers</i> yet). The seeming simplicity of the film's story-line masks a deep complexity that is embodied through its ambivalent, hard-to-sympathize-with characters. This complexity eventually gets transposed to the evolution of the narrative itself, culminating in events that seem to happen out of the blue and with questionable roots as to cause and effect (most notable is the phone in the movie theater scene). By raising more questions than answers (which might be why I've read so many negative comments from viewers), Anderson once again explores the intangible fabric of human nature by stretching the conventional limits of cinematic expectations. While <i>The Master</i> may not appeal to viewers in search of full-on entertainment, it is worth watching for the haunting performances alone (and just when you thought Philip Seymour Hoffman couldn't get any better).G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-50017163292602215812012-11-14T09:04:00.001-05:002012-11-14T09:04:51.924-05:00Flight (USA; Robert Zemeckis, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i> </i>I thought it interesting, and slightly curious, that Zemeckis, waiting 12 years to direct a new live-action feature after 2000's <i>Castaway</i>, would once again tackle a narrative revolving around a plane crash. However, where <i>Castaway</i> was relatively refreshing in its principal subject matter (isolation on a deserted island), <i>Flight</i> is not showing us anything new about its own (repressed alcoholism). Instead, its main goal seems to be to deconstruct Denzel Washington's typical screen persona, mainly resulting in the revelation of a vulnerability that eventually leads him to lose all self-control (and get romantically involved with a white woman, typically a big no-no for Denzel), something we haven't seen him do very often before the end of a picture. Even when Washington portrays morally ambiguous characters<i> </i>(<i>Man on Fire, Training Day, American Gangste</i>r) he seems to maintain some degree of authority over the events unfolding around him, before an untimely death deprives him of the privilege to continue doing so. In <i>Flight</i>, the only time Whip is in complete control is when he is crash-landing the free-diving jumbo jet during what is arguably the film's most memorable scene. Throughout the rest of the picture, he is at the mercy of his self-denied addiction around which the bulk of the film revolves. Unfortunately, this loss of control is predictably overcome and by the end of the picture we are left with good-old repenting Denzel who has discovered the redemptive powers of the grace of God. While there is technically nothing wrong with the finished product (on the contrary, everything is in fact brilliantly executed) the script lacks any real creative insight when it comes to character exploration. Without Washington's powerfully convincing, persona-shattering performance, <i>Flight</i> might have been just about another barfly refusing to end his days of wine and roses.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-28351512197566236602012-11-12T09:04:00.000-05:002012-11-12T09:04:30.832-05:00Ted (USA; Seth MacFarlane, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It would be easy to say that <i>Ted</i> is <i>Family Guy</i> with fur. Not only is the title character's voice almost identical to Peter Griffin's, but the raunchy, pop-culture-referenced, sex-based comedy mirrors that of the popular cartoon series. The difference, however, lies in the pertinence of the laughs to the film's main plot. Granted, the premise is very simple and nothing to shout about, but at least, in contrast to MacFarlane's show, the jokes generally move the story along instead of standing alone in isolated cutaways. While it could be argued that it lasts a bit too long (Woody Allen understood that the best comedies wrap themselves up inside 90 minutes) and comes close to losing its hold on the audience, <i>Ted</i> is still much more satisfying than most recent American comedies (seen <i>The Watch</i> anyone?), a quality also attributable in no small part to Mark Whalberg's laid back, doe-eyed, warmhearted portrayal of a Flash Gordon infatuated man-child who is forced to choose between his girlfriend (Mila Kunis) and his bear. Much like the chemistry between man and teddy, the film's suspension of disbelief is surprisingly easy to grasp onto (Ted's sudden life being simply attributed to the power of a 'child's wish') as <i>Ted</i>'s furry antics give us the most original, laugh-out-loud bromance comedy since 2009's <i>I Love You Man</i> (and you don't have to be a <i>Family Guy</i> fan to appreciate it).G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-26680006853515460282012-11-09T08:56:00.000-05:002012-11-09T08:56:04.129-05:00The Last Starfighter (USA; Nick Castle, 1984)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's an ironic testament to the rapid evolution of technological progress that a film attempting to emulate the experience of playing a video game has, almost 30 years later, been surpassed in visual quality by video games themselves. Indeed, the continuous advancements made regarding visual effects has caused many technology-based films of the 80s, such as <i>WarGames </i>(John Badham, 1983), <i>Tron </i>(Steven Lisberger, 1982) and <i>Weird Science </i>(John Hughes, 1985)<i>,</i> to seem dated and hard to take seriously for today's audience. Of these titles, <i>The Last Starfighter </i>is arguably one that has aged the best. While the computer generated star-fighting sequences sometime seem bare and without texture, they are balanced out by still-convincing make-up jobs and solid art design. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the acting, which generates more laughs than I'm sure were initially intended. Lance Guest, a TV actor in one of his few film-starring roles, does a frigid job of playing Alex Rogan, the title's last starfighter, a qualification that incidentally helps his complimentary performance of Beta Alex, the robot left on Earth to take his place after he is recruited to save the galaxy. At times cheesy, at times breathtaking, <i>The Last Starfighter </i>remains often enjoyable and surprisingly easy to go along with. G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-40671799653295578912012-11-07T09:21:00.000-05:002012-11-07T09:26:44.932-05:00Cloud Atlas (Germany/USA/Hong Kong/ Singapore; Andy Wachowski, Lana Wachowski & Tom Tykwer, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This clearly is one ambitious movie. It makes me wish I had read the book beforehand so I could truly know just how ambitious the filmmakers were. Considering the wider scope of the novel format, one can assume that David Mitchell's book contains even more information than the cinematic adaptation, which is already heavily packed as it is. So much so that three directors were needed to handle the complicated logistics involved. Furthermore, in an attempt to reinforce the interconnection between the several narratives (6), the film stretches the limits of acting versatility by casting the same performers in widely different roles. Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Hugo Weaving, Doona Bae, Jim Sturgess, Jim Broadbent and Hugh Grant, to name a few, all play various characters that not only exist decades apart, but also within several layers of storytelling, such as a movie or a book, that are present in the main narrative(s). Without going into the specifics of the narratives themselves, it is interesting to see how one narrative feeds off the other, the connections between time, space and man progressively becoming clearer as the film unfolds, creating some kind of 'slipping' effect that seems to break apart the singularity of each story. This 'slip' is also evident through the make-up work done on the actors. While it is possible that the filmmakers intended the audience not to recognize the disguised actors, I believe that the resemblance of the actor from one character to another reinforces the connection between said characters and the stories in which they figure. In other words, I believe the recognition of actor duplication was intentional (if not, then the transformation of Doona Bae into both a Mexican woman and a Victorian American housewife leaves much to desire) and crucial to the film's projected wholeness. Brilliantly handled in the hands of the Wachowski siblings and Tom Tykwer (quite a team-up), <i>Cloud Atlas</i> is worth seeing if only for of its refreshing creativity and storytelling sophistication, not to mention the always-refined photography and entertaining performances. Whether you believe in its ideas or not, <i>Cloud Atlas</i> rewards those patient souls who are willing to be whisked away by its all-encompassing symphony.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-49294426952591414062012-11-06T09:54:00.001-05:002012-11-06T09:54:55.998-05:00Damon Wayans: The Last Stand? (USA; Terry McCoy, 1990)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is interesting to watch old comedy routines and observe which bits are still applicable today and which ones are outdated snippets of their times. For instance, the AIDS and gay-related jokes of Eddie Murphy's <i>Delirious </i>(1983) and <i>Raw</i> (1987) stand-up shows seem ignorant and explicitly bigoted when seen today. However, Murphy's influence on future comedians cannot be denied and is felt strongly here as Wayans deals with similar topics such as police brutality, muscle men trying to fuck you in the ass (Mike Tyson standing in for Mr. T here) and the proper way to satisfy women sexually (incidentally, <i>Raw</i> is explicitly referenced by Wayans when talking about his nephew). While Wayans 'Handy Man' bit may be a bit controversial, if not flat-out insensitive, most of his material stands the test of time, even if his observations on the increasing gangstarization of black youth in NYC may lose some of its immediacy. The main exception to this may be Wayans long segment on the hypocrisy of televangelists, a phenomenon that grew staggeringly popular during Reagan's 80s. The characterization of, and reference to, these disgraced personalities may be hard to fully grasp for those without the historical knowledge of what and who they were. In any case, regardless of actuality, Wayans confirms with his last stand that laughter is indeed truly his game, no matter what decade you may be watching him from.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-33187756021367031302012-11-02T10:08:00.000-04:002012-11-02T10:08:42.487-04:00The Campaign (USA; Jay Roach, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Released near the end of this year's real-life presidential election, <i>The Campaign</i> would have been the perfect vehicle to evoke the satirical nature of politics and reflect upon its use of artifice. While it does exaggerate a few truths of political campaigning (such as skirting around issues and having to re-organize your entire life in order to create a self-image that appeals to the widest demographic), the film too often slips into weak slapstick and cheap, sex related humor. When unopposed 4-term congressman Cam Brady (Will Ferrell) commits a major faux pas (sex related obviously), the Motch brothers (John Lithgow and Dan Aykroyd),his corporate financial backers, realize Brady's political career is disintegrating fast and decide to severe their ties to Brady. In his place, the Motch brothers select tourist guide Marty Huggins (Zack Galifianakis) as their candidate, the oddball son of a rich and ruthless former campaign manager (Brian Cox). The two candidates seesaw through the polls using a string of attack ads that gradually increase in sleaziness, culminating in a TV spot representing the ultimate marriage of sex and politics.<br />
As a comedy, the film benefits greatly from its proven cast and outrageous moments. However, the too frequent reliance on crude sexual humor somehow overshadows its political and social critiques. Don't get me wrong, I laughed my ass off when Ferrell punched the baby (talk about your<br />PR reversals), I was just disappointed in the film's ultimate superficiality when it had such a promising start.<i> </i>I guess we will have to wait a little longer for another <i>Wag the Dog</i> (Barry Levinson, 1997), <i>Primary Colors</i> (Mike Nichols, 1998) or <i>Bullworth</i> (Warren Beatty, 1998). Meanwhile, it looks like we're stuck with another political comedy in the tradition of <i>My Fellow Americans</i> (Peter Segal, 1996), although thankfully much funnier.<br />
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p.s. Where's Bob Roberts when we need him!G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-778840458248739832012-10-31T12:35:00.003-04:002012-10-31T12:35:47.136-04:00Cold Fish (Japan: Sono Sion, 2010)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Through its disturbing and unbalanced characters, in particular the film's protagonist Nobuyuki Syamoto (Mitsuru Fukikoshi), <i>Cold Fish</i> explores the evolution of insanity in the face of one's disillusionment about the nature of the planet we live on. When Syamoto's daughter Mitsuko (Hikari Kajiwara) gets caught for shoplifting, the exotic-fish dealer and his new wife Taeko (Megumi Kagurazaka) are introduced to fellow fish dealer Yukio Murata (Denden), an overly cheerful man who manages to get Mitsuko off the hook for theft on the condition that she works in his exotic fish shop where he hires and lodges troubled females youths (Mitsuko has been acting out in response to her father getting re-married so quickly, including giving a beatdown to her new step-mother). As Murata slowly gains the trust of both Taeko and Mitsuko, he, along with his wife Aiko (Asuka Kurosawa), begin to use Syamoto as an assistant in their extracurricular activities, which mainly revolve around serial homicide, or making people 'invisible', as Murata likes to call it. Supposedly based on true events, <i>Cold Fish</i> details Syamoto's downward spiral into the Muratas' twisted world of casual depravity. The former's fascination with astronomy is often invoked (through Planetarium footage) as a way to illustrate the discrepancies between Earth's beautiful, peaceful-looking surface seen from afar and its potentially ugly, degenerate character when viewed up close. This shattering of life's self-enforced illusions leads to Syamoto's mental unraveling, which culminates in drastic crimes of passion. While Sono's typically disturbing imagery is usually balanced out by polished and picturesque photography, the general cinematography in <i>Cold Fish </i> consists of chaotic hand-held camera work that tries to mirror the protagonists' shocked bewilderment. When the camera remains still, however, we become privy to Sono's masterful composition and resplendent images. While the film's action and unstable camera movements pick up speed when the characters themselves get agitated (or excited), it is the moments of respite and inaction that are most satisfying. G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-75666072018809220592012-10-30T11:45:00.002-04:002012-10-30T11:47:39.591-04:00Miami Connection (U.S.A/ Hong Kong; Richard Park, 1987)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's hard to believe that just 25 years ago films like these were still being released on the big screen; thank God they did. Technically, this movie is a failure on all fronts: the actors are beyond bad and give an brand new meaning to over-acting , the script is as cheesy as it gets, the editing constantly missing a beat and the fighting choreography laughable (including victims holding back punches, just waiting in line to get their asses kicked); everything one might come to expect of a movie produced, written, (uncredited) directed by, and starring Y.K. Kim, a Tae Kwon Do champion with only one film to his credit (this one!). However, like many forgotten cult films of the 80s, its technical shortcomings are its strongest appealing assets.<br />
The main story line follows Y.K. Kim and his martial arts rock band (that's right), named Dragon Sound, as they deal with violent pressure from the band whose gig they stole and the jealous, cocaine-dealing brother of one of the band member's new girlfriend. As everyone in the band (or in the whole movie) seems to be trained in some kind of martial art, every confrontation, beginning with an exaggerated yelling match, culminates in a fight of some kind, usually including stereotypical black or white ninja uniforms. The violence, hilariously graphic at times (made me think of <i>Story of Ricky</i>), is accompanied by attempts at drama that mark the film's funniest moments. The perfect films to watch drunk (or whatever else) with friends, <i>Miami Connection</i> is another great bad classic that lives up to high expectations of welcomed mediocrity.G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-81571321449056935002012-10-23T10:26:00.000-04:002012-10-23T10:26:00.337-04:00Hatfields and McCoys (USA; Kevin Reynolds, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Watched part 2 of this engaging mini-series yesterday and while I have yet to see the conclusive episode, I still feel I've experienced enough of it to get the idea of what it has to offer (also I haven't watched anything really noteworthy lately). In dealing with the notorious 19th century family feud that existed between the McCoys of Kentucky and the Hatfields of West Virginia, this product of the History Channel is another strong argument for the present state of American television being much stronger and offering better material than the recent track record of mainstream American cinema. While the wide scope of the events covered in the series makes its subject ideal for television, its appeal strongly stems from its cinematic qualities, including striking photography, convincing production and costume designs, and generally strong performances (Tom Berenger's gritty portrayal of Jim Vance is especially powerful). The prevalent animosity that escalates between the clans of patriarchs Randall McCoy (Bill Paxton) and Anse Hatfield (Kevin Costner) leads to blood, blood and more blood as rebellious sons and gullible daughters constantly undo the possibilities for peace their parents attempt to shape; until peace just isn't an option anymore. Getting better as he gets older, Costner's performance and attention to historical detail make <i>Hatfields and McCoys</i> a strong and welcome addition to the recent Western television series such as <i>Deadwood</i> and <i> Hell on Wheels</i>, making one wonder when the movies are finally gonna catch up. G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-9948170373726284112012-10-22T11:15:00.001-04:002012-10-22T11:15:07.596-04:00The Land of Hope (Japan; Sono Sion, 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3fMm3R8HhYtylZvcxl1UTWpErHS4DN63zWLk3QyeM6gVOTTFggLME2PvKX5KEUIDCJRUDJJrUDFDsA1knWRCrImteyPRGA-pNA_nqrSMsVNlEEf2dOiOAjStZJxNZ5Ex2R-ijVSbtQQ/s1600/land+of+hope+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr3fMm3R8HhYtylZvcxl1UTWpErHS4DN63zWLk3QyeM6gVOTTFggLME2PvKX5KEUIDCJRUDJJrUDFDsA1knWRCrImteyPRGA-pNA_nqrSMsVNlEEf2dOiOAjStZJxNZ5Ex2R-ijVSbtQQ/s320/land+of+hope+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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More tamed in content than the previous Sion Sono pictures that I have seen, <i>The</i> <i>Land of Hope</i> still manages to shock its audience with its inclusion of psychologically-questionable characters who all react differently to the omnipresent threat of radiation. Following the tsunami-caused explosion of a Japanese nuclear power plant in a small town, the lives of the Ono family are disrupted when their home becomes the cut-off line for the disaster's infected area, the radiation apparently unable to cross over yellow, "do not cross" police tape. This absurd treatment of radiation risk and containment sets the tone for the film's exploration of human reaction to invisible danger. From radiation phobia to the blissful ignorance of what can be assumed to be Alzheimer's disease, the film's characters all must learn to cope with both they're own fears and those of the ones they love. As families separate and villages grow deserted, the will to survive is continuously tested as individuals must learn to adapt to this inescapable result of technological 'advancement'. Beautifully shot as usual, Sono's latest effort is filled with low-key moments bursting with high emotion and sporadic humor that saves them from becoming all-out tragic. Finding hope in the most unusual places (even death),<i> Land of Hope</i> gracefully forces its audience to assume and confront their own views regarding one of today's most imminent geographical concern. G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003861933160411824.post-54179275752478880372012-01-15T11:04:00.000-05:002012-01-15T11:04:21.170-05:00The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975 (Sweden; Goran Olsson, 2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqV4RQD3PAgtLzmHWotgZQ66gljmV1sRB4C47n8viy658ABdQeQUCebA29erCuAMe5sAVJOftTmt4PRQ5LBC8yrX4o9PcmofZB8zmss9UM067yNl_2WMXopyJu5w1fpKCCkIRrLuC0S4/s1600/Black-Power-Mixtape-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqV4RQD3PAgtLzmHWotgZQ66gljmV1sRB4C47n8viy658ABdQeQUCebA29erCuAMe5sAVJOftTmt4PRQ5LBC8yrX4o9PcmofZB8zmss9UM067yNl_2WMXopyJu5w1fpKCCkIRrLuC0S4/s320/Black-Power-Mixtape-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Having recently finished a 13-week class on Blaxploitation film, the study of which cannot be complete without discussing its close ties to the Black Power movement that was gaining popularity at the time its production, viewing this Swedish perspective on the BP years was an insightful glimpse through a foreign eye (which I incidentally also possess) of one of the most defining moments of 20th century America. As a weak-but-fierce Angel Davis herself proclaims during a hunger strike behind bars, to question the need for violence in such a revolution is to be ignorant of the daily realities facing the black community (at that time?). This ignorance is what this film seems intent on rectifying. Whether it succeeds or not is beyond my knowledge, seeing as all I have as an understanding of these events is a collection of various processed memories that each want to paint the era in a specifically defining light. However, one cannot deny the film's worth in providing us with deeply moving and profoundly revealing bits of stock footage. Stokely Carmichael, Angela Davis, Bobby Seale and many others are heard in the flesh, giving us a firsthand account of the roots and purposes of the Black Power philosophy. These images are supported (but never visually replaced) by voice-over commentaries spoken by various influential figures, some of which are seen in the footage and awarded the benefit of being able look back on themselves and reflect on these unforgettable years. While the film seems to veer towards the melodramatic side as it progresses, the images conserve their evocative power until the very end. G.Desbienshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14920744562309159083noreply@blogger.com1