[Rec] 2 (Spain; Jaume Balaguero & Paco Plaza, 2009)

   Opening with its predecessor's closing shot, [Rec] 2 feels as if you'd hit pause on the first one and came back later to finish it, the latter being but an episode of the whole story behind this zombie lunacy. Switching perspectives to the technological eyes of S.W.A.T team members entering the building to take charge of the situation, we quickly learn that the mission is not what it seems when the mission leader turns out to be a priest sent to find an antidote by the Vatican to cover-up their involvement in the matter. Locking us inside the dreaded building barely 4 minutes into the movie, [Rec] 2 assumes the viewer has seen the first one as it doesn't waste time with exposition, taking us back into the penthouse to learn more about the background of the situation. In addition to being faster, gorier and more populated than the initial film, the sequel takes the initial concept of hand-held amateur footage to new heights, using the equipment of the agents to explain the use of a screen-within-screen aesthetic that also serves as transitions between the points of view of the soldiers, adding more tension and range to the surrounding terror. However, the mystery angle that was an important factor of the first picture is almost completely lost as the film spends most of its time explaining the roots of this infestation, shedding much light on what went unanswered earlier. As effective to induce fright, [Rec] 2 is as good, if not better, than its source.

Perrier's Bounty (Ireland/UK; Ian Fitzgibbon, 2009)

  I sought this film after seeing its title on a list of the year's ten best picture. I don't remember who made the list but I feel sorry that they didnt' get to see better pictures that year. Not that this one is bad, except you'd have to have seen only a handful of pictures if you would chose to include it in the annual top-ten. Inferior yet somewhat comparable to In Bruges (Martin McDonagh, 2008), Bounty is a crime comedy dealing with dramatic subject matter whose loose script fails to bring balance to the equation; in other words, you get more laughs than emotions. The story of a slacker Dubliner (Cillian Murphy) on the run with his father (Jim Broadbent) and best friend (Jodie Whittaker) because the latter killed a henchman that was about to break his legs in the name of an unpaid loan is arguably uninspired, the weight of the picture meant to rest on the performances of its impresssive cast. In addition to those already mentioned, the casting of Liam Cunningham and Brandan Gleeson as the titular Perrier greatly adds to the film's appreciation, Gleeson's friendly yet threatening portrayal not getting enough screen time, in my opinion. Murphy and Broadbent were also convincing as the quarelling father-and-son team, Broadbent's tough-guy flakiness responsible for much of the film's best moments. However, the film does contain an element that often frustrates me in movies: the voice-over. I find it justifiable when its presence offers introspective insights into various characters, as it does in The Thin Red Line (1998) or other Terrence Malick films, or when it serves to explain contextual information crucial to the film's understanding, such as in Rounders (John Dahl, 1998). In Bounty, however, the voice-over, although thankfully kept to a minimum, brings nothing to light that can't be picked up by either the visuals or the dialogue. Furthermore, the film keeps the source of the omniscient voice (Gabriel Byrne) secret until the end, the discovery of which is rather disappointing.

Tears for Sale (Serbia; Uros Stojanovic, 2008)

   This magical breath of fresh air is a beautiful dark comedy that explores obsession and possessiveness when confronted with deprivation and illusion, not to mention imminent death if unfortunate enough to draw the short stick (you'll see). Establishing a fairy-tale vibe from the beginning, Tears immerses the viewer in an imaginary Serbia in which men have become a rare sight due to the many wars that have taken their lives. Small villages strictly inhabited by women cherish the last of their men, no matter how old and sick they may be. When Ognjenka (Sonja Kolacaric) accidentally kills her town's last male entity, she keeps herself and her sister Boginja (Katarina Radivojevic) from being burnt at the stake by promising to bring back another man for the village. The film follows the sisters' journey through a man-deprived Serbia as their illusions are destroyed, innocence shattered and their lives are changed forever. More enlivening than the previous Serbian films I have seen, the dark nature of the depraved villagers is balanced-out by the wacky and absurd portrayal of the men found along the way, the masculine obsession made laughable by the limited selection available. Incidentally, a world where entire villages throw themselves at your feet simply because you are a man is more scary than it sounds. Filmed in a dream-like sepia aesthetic, the film aptly conveys the birth of desire through absence, the women wanting what is not available, most of them not knowing what to do if they were with one anyway. Original, creative and delightfully twisted, Tears for Sale uniquely re-writes the battle of the sexes with outrageous success.

The Mechanic (USA; Simon West, 2011)

 

   I felt like watching a no-brainer and that's exactly what I got. Not to say that it wasn't an enjoyable ride, only that it was a predictable and familiar one. A remake of the 1972 Charlers Bronson film of the same name, The Mechanic follows professional hitman Arthur Bishop (Jason Statham) as he tryies to get over his guilt at having killed his boss and mentor (Donald Sutherland) by teaching his trade to the latter's son (Ben Foster), the practice of which puts him at odds with his other boss (Tony Goldwyn). A perfect vehicle for Statham's strong, soft and silent persona, Mechanic is ideal for a rainy afternoon, delivering exactly what it promises in the trailer. While the action does take its time to get into gear, the film benefits from wisecracking humor and another convincing performance by Foster, in my opinion one of best young actors working today.

Reminiscent of the 90's action film (of which West directed many), Mechanic will probably not leave the viewer with a long-lasting impression, but it won't be a disappointing one either. 

The American Trap (Canada; Charles Binamé, 2008)

 

  This film is notewothy if only for being a bilangual Canadian film that is not about hockey. Speaking in both English and French, Remy Girard stars as real-life Montreal hoodlum Lucien Rivard, a figure known to have had ties with New Orleans gangster Carlos Marcello. His dealings with the CIA and anti-Castro militias are re-created as the picture brings us back to the Cold War era, exploring Rivard's involvement in JFK's assassination and its aftermath. While the implications sometimes seem far-fetched, Trap still works as a conjurer of times past, adding many 'what-ifs' to a subject that already has plenty. Having recently re-screened Oliver Stone's JFK (1991) and being a long-time fan of James Ellroy's incomparable novel 'American Tabloid', it's interesting to look at both the discrepancies and similarities that exist between each point-of-view, this time bringing the conspiracy closer to home in dealing with Montreal-born Rivard. Beyond historical credibility, Trap is simply gorgeous to look at, special touches like the recreation of some of the McClellan Committee hearings and footage from the Zapruder film keeping the viewer actively involved and wondering about the validity of the allegations presented. As I never tire of this particular piece of American history, I found it a great treat to think about the Canadian implications of it, all of which is made more fun with the bilangual performances of Girard and Colm Feore, two of Canada's best actors.

[Rec] (Spain; Jaume Balaguero & Paco Plaza, 2007)

  Incessantly freaky, [Rec] is one of those films that is refreshingly simple both in concept and practice, making it one of the better examples of the reality-concerned, mockumentary-style horror films such as Cloverfield (Matt Reeves, 2008) and Diary of the Dead (George A. Romero, 2007). In fact, its unique premise was almost literally re-appropriated by Hollywood for the weaker Quarantine (J.E. Dowdle) barely a year later, unable to come up with their own idea to cash-in on the reality-terror craze. Seen through the shaky, hand-held lens of Pablo, cameraman for the late-night TV show "While you Sleep", the film follows Angela (Manuela Velasco), the program's host, as she is doing a report about the night in the life of a fireman. Following them on a call to an appartment building in which an old woman is supposedly locked in a tenement, Angela gets the scoop of a lifetime; if she survives her own story that is. When the old woman in question attacks one of the assisting cops, their quest for assistance is stopped-short when the building's exits are found to have been barricaded from the outside by the authorities, everybody being locked inside. When the injured turn out to be not as lifeless as initially perceived, Angela and Pablo attempt to stay alive long enough to shed some light on this outrageous turn of events. Dealing with themes of autoritarian abuse, freedom of information and mass hysteria, this frenzy-fest is there to scare. The fact that we are frustrated and made uncomforble by the camera work greatly aids the frightening effect, the fast and glimpe-like views that we get of the threatful elements creating more questions than they answer. Mysterious until the very end, [Rec] has no illusions of grandeur as it sets out to scare the wits out of its audience, its straightforward entertainment value making it grand nonetheless.  

Joint Security Area (South Korea; Chan-wook Park, 2000)

   It seems that Park hasn't always held a pessimistic view of the world. Before his signature 'Revenge' trilogy (Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, 2002; Oldboy, 2003; Lady Vengeance, 2005), he tackled his country's North/South issue with brains, heartbreak and humor, exploring the essence of animosity by questioning the reasons people become enemies; or are labeled as such from the start, free will having nothing to do with the matter. When two North Korean soldiers are killed and one wounded inside their own lines, South Korean soldier Soo-hyeok is pinned for the infraction; he was seen crossing back over from the North side on the night of the murders nursing a bullet hole in his arm. His account of the night in question, however, is different from that of the North Korean survivor (Kang-ho Song), each side accusing the other of instigating the situation. When a Switzerland-born Korean Neutral Countries Officer (Yeong-ae Lee) gets sent to her father's native land to investigate, she attempts to learn what really went down. Told through sporadic flashbacks, this seemingly simple film induces laughs and tears as it portrays war in an habitual and life-defining way, yet whose roots are often trivial and ambiguous; sometimes even forgotten. In the vein of war pictures like Grand Illusion (Jean Renoir, 1937) and A Midnight Clear (Keith Gordon, 1992), JSA looks at soldiers in identity crises, re-evaluating who they thought they were and by extension doing the same for their country.   

Screamin' Jay Hawkins: I Put a Spell on Me (Greece; Nicholas Triandafyllidis, 2001)

  This revealing documentary is a must-see for any fan of Screamin' Jay Hawkins, big or small. Whether it serves to introduce him to new generations or to satisfy the nostalgia of his long-time supporters, Spell on Me paints an honest and uplifting portrait of the deep-voiced, voodoo-inspired soul man, a genuineness much strenghtened by having Hawkins do much of the explaining himself. Following him throughout Greece during his final tour in 1999, the film uses interviews and stock footage to essentially summarize his life and carreer; from his POW days in a Japanese prison camp, through his early Alan Freed-promoted days and his stint with the Fuzztones in the 80's. Interviews with the likes of Bo Didley and Jim Jarmusch help shine some light on this eccentric performer who initially set out to offer something different; and boy did he ever. From the bone in his nose to Henry, the skull resting atop his voodoo stick, Hawkins' image was far from traditional. This is reflected by the live footage included into the picture, comprised of numbers both from the past and the actual tour. However, as much as it is joyfully exhilirating to see him perform his unique brand of showmanship, it seems that many of the musical numbers are cut-short, cross-cutting to testimonials in the middle of a song then cutting back to its conclusion. Apart from the editing choices that sometime break the groove started by Hawkins' performances, the film still feels like a privileged treat, if only for the fortune of spending 90 minutes in the presence of this legend barely months before his untimely death.  

In a Glass Cage (Spain; Agusti Villaronga, 1987)

  It always impresses me how filmmakers, especially those specializing in horror, can manage to create beauty when dealing with the most deplorable subjects, often making the viewer feel almost guilty of enjoying certain films. This is such a picture; although enjoyable may be too strong a word of it. It tells the story of Angelo (David Sust), a disturbed young man who has taken the post of caretaker for exiled ex nazi-doctor Klaus (Gunter Meisner) who is confined to an iron lung after a failed suicide attempt, done in shame of his penchant for killing and sexually assaulting young boys, a taste he picked up during the war. It soon becomes clear that the doctor's past is what Angelo is really interested in, showing his true psychopathic colors when he announces his intention of re-creating some of his war-time atrocities. The title referring both to Klaus' iron lung and the mansion in which he and his family are isolated in, the feeling of entrapment is consistently felt throughout by the viewer as well, being rarely permitted to step outside. The atmosphere of a glass cage is cleverly conveyed through heavy and prominent use of blue color-filtered lighting. This expressive use of color, coupled with sweeping camera movements and advancing POV shots, sometimes made me think of an Argento movie with more sexual deviance than blood. While I don't want to describe any scenes in too much detail so as not to ruin any shockinlgy surprising moments, I can safely say that this is one of the most intriguing pictures to deal with abnormal psychology; not to mention that it is practically without sympathetic characters, even the little girl inspiring more curiosity than sympathy. As the film becomes more and more oneiric, the growing desire to turn away never completely overcomes human nature's instinctual fascination with the horrors of the mind.

for further reading on the film: www.offscreen.com/index.php/phile/essays/glass_cage/

The Man from Nowhere (South Korea; Jeong-beom Lee, 2010)

  Another fresh treatment of an old premise to come out of South Korea, this time giving new panache to the retired-agent-on-a-vendetta action film. At times reminiscent of Man on Fire (2004), this emotionally violent quest for an abducted little girl stars Won Bin as Cha Tae-Sik, a silent, cold-blooded retired government agent with a tragic past now living under the guise of a simple pawnshop owner. His only acquaintance is young Somee (Kim Sae-Ron), the lonely daughter of his junky neighbor who pops in from time to time to take a breather from her heroin-induced convulsing mother. When gangsters come looking for their missing narcotics, they make the mistake of kidnapping Somee and her mother in the process, initially using them to blackmail Tae-Sik into doing their dirty work. When they deliver the mother's corpse with no sign of Somee, finding her becomes his only objective, sparking a hell fire that puts both criminals and law enforcement on his mysterious trail. Supported by solid, vulnerable performances, Nowhere takes the viewer into a dark world whose only hope for redemption comes from the people who taint it in the first place. While there are super-villains with no conscience in this film, being 'bad' is not seen as being unifyingly definitive, as the entire concept of the anti-hero would also seem to support. Far from his portrayal of the confused, slow-witted son in Mother (2009), Bin is highly convincing as a man fighting hard to become emotionally numb, a feat that becomes harder and harder as his quest progresses. Kim is perfect as the orphaned girl, her eyes filled with defiant innocence, simply looking for proof that the world is not all hate. Action-wise, we are treated to hand-to-hand combat sequences a la Jason Bourne, its quickness matched only by its efficiency in handling outnumbered enemies. As entertainment with heart and smarts, Man from Nowhere is refreshing in a creatively familiar way.

Election 2 (Hong Kong; Johnnie To, 2006)

  One variation for the dvd cover of Election 2 quotes a critic calling it an Asian Godfather. Having referenced Gordon Willis while covering the first one, I can't help but to agree with this sentiment; but to a certain extent. Beyond that they are obviously smaller in scope and ambition, the Election films are more graphically straightforward in their depiction of organized crime's inner workings, letting actions speak for often silent characters without excessively focusing on the inner turmoil that makes The Godfather so morally ambiguous. Also, while business is integral to both group of films, To's have less emphasis on how it affects family, concentrating instead on the consequences it brings to tradition. This is even more true of the sequel. When the time for electing a new chairman for the Hong Kong Triad is near, Jimmy (Louis Koo) is widely considered the natural choice to succeed Lok (Simon Yam) as the ultimate boss. Ironically, the reason that makes him a favorite, his wealth and successful businesses, is the same one that explains his refusal to take charge. He doesn't want his legitimate ventures jeopardized as he aspires to quit gangster life altogether and become a real businessman. However, when it turns out that being chairman is necessary to close his next deal, his mind is made up and he decides to run, only to be faced with a renegade Lok who seeks to counter customs and continue his reign for a second term. Naturally, like in its predecessor, war is imminent. Aesthetically similar to the first one, Election 2 is much more focused on the violent and intimidating nature of Triad mores, Lok's homicidal insolence matched by Jimmy`s meat-grinding methods of persuasion for defection. Because of this, there is less time spent on protocol, lacking scenes like the prison sequence of the initial picture. This is evened out by more screen-time for Nick Cheung, brilliantly reprising his role of ceramic-eating, face-painting assassin Jet, now right-hand man to Lok, still waiting to make a name for himself. While perhaps not being subject to being hailed as superior to its predecessor, as is sometimes the case with The Godfather, Part II, this sequel can stand proudly beside it to form an entirely satisfying double-bill. 

Sapphire (UK; Basil Dearden, 1959)

  I'm not usually one to like formulaic filmmaking but I find something comforting in the straightforwardness of the detective story paradigm. While this picture is more of a social issue piece masquarading as a murder mystery, it is still structured as the latter, the victim's true nature slowly rising to the surface as the investigation moves forward, usually by knocking on doors hoping to get lucky and catch a lead. The title referring to the victim's name, the film follows Superintendent Robert Hazard (Nigle Patrick) as he attempts to sort out lies and fabrications in order find the killer of this young, pregnant and seemingly innocent student. Racial motives are soon revealed to be at play when it is learned that Sapphire was a black woman light enough to pass for white, the practice of which led her to be romantically involved with a young white male student (Paul Massie), his bigotted family and prospective career making him the prime suspect for the crime. Faced with racial prejudice at every turn (including his partner), Hazard follows one lead after the other all over London, from the Royal Academy of Music to obscure jazz clubs, hoping to understand the life of this two-faced woman whom nobody seemed to really know. Without bringing all the attention on itself, Dearden's direction is clear and fluid, reminiscent of classical Hollywood directors like Wilder or Hawks in the way his form adapts to the narrative at-hand, evolving as the tension escalates. In this case, the photography gets darker and more expressive when coming closer to the dark side of Sapphire's world, namely the introduction of her former boyfriend/suspect Johnnie Fiddle (Harry Baird) and the ensuing chase. While pretty typical as a detective story, Sapphire is an important picture of its time as it addresses and challenges the prominent racial discrimination that was as rampant across London as the rest of the globe, portraying premature death as the ultimate consequence of unified hate. Incidentally, this same reason that made it stand out upon release may very well be the same one that makes it seem perhaps a bit dated and old-fashioned for today's audiences.

Election (Hong Kong; Johnnie To, 2005)

  This beautifully-shot look into the underworld of the Chinese Triads is an unrelenting yet humbling view of violence as a way of life. Once the election for the new Hong Kong Triad chairman is completed , passed-over loser Big-D (Tony Leung Ka Fai) refuses to accept defeat and attempts to keep the victor Lok (Simon Yam) from getting his hands on the sacred baton that makes leadership official. This power struggle starts a chain-reaction that brings imminent war within the criminal society. Well-crafted and easy-flowing, this crime saga deals with lawlessness as being legal in itself, the inner-workings of the triad not only accepted but supported by law officials, the only valid code being that of the triad, parts of it repeated throughout the picture. Without resorting to glamorized, blood-spurting violence, To manages to present the threatening nature of the characters' world in a matter-of-fact, often humorless way (compared to John Woo). While of course violence is an integral and considerable element of Election, it is not singled-out or polished, remaining but an unwavering certainty of that particular lifestyle. The optimism of said lifestyle can be found wanting as the film favors very dark photography to portray it, sometimes reminiscent of a crisper, more colorful Gordon Willis. Coupled with the dynamism-building use of a slide-and-swerve camera during conversation scenes, this dark visual quality helps to create a constantly-moving world of danger and deceit in which perceived camaraderie is but a front for ever-present treacherous possibilities. 

  

Bang the Drum Slowly (USA; John Hancock, 1973)

   It seems that sickness is the most effective way to make Robert DeNiro vulnerable. His performance as second-string, slow-witted catcher Bruce Pearson who, with the help of his best friend ace pitcher Henry 'Author' Wiggon (Michael Moriarty), goes through lies and pains to keep his team's management from finding out he has been diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease in order to keep playing the game he loves so much, is genuinely poignant and emblematic of DeNiro's acting versatility, something that sometimes gets forgotten when constantly subjected to many of his tough-guy, persona-fitting roles. Released the year before his Oscar-winning portrayal of Vito Corleone in The Godfather, Part 2 (1974), Bang the Drum sets the trend for using disease or slow-wittedness in order to pull certain of his characters away from his usually authoritative and situation-controlling image. Like in Awekenings (1990) and Stanley & Iris (1989) years later, DeNiro's Pearson is heartwarming due to his inability to know any better, still able to appreciate the little joys he has even though his life is on the line. More importantly, it's another example of DeNiro needing to be somehow disabled in order to be believable as someone not being able to take charge of the reins. 

 Beyond that, Bang the Drum is also a great dramatic comedy which is made all the more enjoyable by taking place in the world of baseball, rightfully considered a classic in films dealing with the sport. The fraternal bond shared by Pearson and Wiggon is made even stronger by their being part of the same team, the familial aspect of baseball brought further home by the lively performance of Vincent Gardenia as the team's head coach, hilarious as he loses his temper trying to decipher the solid lies his boys feed him. Strong performances and ample baseball footage make this simple tale of friendship and loyalty one for the books, leading one to wonder if America's national pastime will ever be treated so innocently again. 

21 Days (UK; Basil Dean, 1940)

 
 This was a pleasant surprise. What seemed like a basic love story turned out to be a dark tale of escalating guilt and moral obligation surrounding a crime of passion and a wrongful conviction. When Larry Durrant (Laurence Olivier) accidentally kills his lover's (soon-to-be-wife Vivien Leigh) estranged blackmailing husband, his life goes from bad to worse. When a homeless ex-minister gets collared for the crime, hopes are raised that he may get away with it; that is if his guilt doesn't destroy him first. The 21 days specified in the title refer to the three weeks the lovers have together before the verdict comes out. Contrary as to what the title would suggest, this is the film's most uneventful element, the real intrigue found in the trial scenes and the relationship between Larry and his prosecutor brother (Leslie Banks), whose complicity after the fact puts his career in jeopardy. Extremely dark photographay helps to create a treacherous world where guilt is contagious and pennance is seeked out, integrity alone able to set it right. While easily citeable as a good opportunity to see Olivier and Leigh in the same picture, and seeing as I've never really been a fan of Olivier (I find his acting too calculated; even for those days), the directing is very well worth mentioning as it goes a long way into making this potentially bland story into an engaging narrative. Completely unknown to me, Basil Dean impressed me with his fluid overhead camera movements and escalating editing, cutting to closer shots as the tension rises, for example. His composition is also interesting, including various askew angles and expressive mise-en-scene that lend a threatening crookedness to the world he builds. As a story alone, 21 Days is nothing really extraordinary. Like many films before or since, however, its value can be found in the way it is told.

Go, Johnny, Go! (USA; Paul Landres, 1959)

 Here's a movie that has no pretense about what it is: an opportunity to see live rock n' roll; and that's reason enough to see it. Much like exploitation pictures, this film fast-tracks the narrative requirements in order to present its audience with what they came to see; in this case, rock n' roll. This rocksploitation classic details the minimal tribulations of Johnny Melody (Jimmy Clanton), an orphan trying to become a star by getting his demo to real-life rock guru Alan Freed, who eventually gets it anonymously and puts on a radio contest to find out Johnny's identity. Along with his old-orphanage-friend-soon-to-be-sweetheart Julie (SandyStewart), Johnny jumps from one performance to another. While the songs performed by the two young protagonist are fun to hear (especially Stewart's 'Playmates'), the picture's real appeal are the random musical acts that make-up the bulk of the film, headlined by Chuck Berry who plays a talking part and performs two songs. Other perfomers include Eddie Cochran, Jo Ann Campbell, the Cadillacs, the Flamingos, Jackie Wilson and the single screen appearance of Ritchie Valens only months before his sudden death. While some might object to the omission of these artists' more well-known hits, I find it even more amazing to see them live and discover new tunes at the same time.

The Good, The Bad, The Weird (South Korea; Ji-woon Kim, 2008)

  This is one hell of a bumpy ride; and I can't remember one more fun. Loosely adapted from Leone's The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966), this outrageous Western fantasy makes its own rules as we are transported across desert landscapes and colorful saloons following the trail of three outlaws chasing one another for possession of a map leading to a buried treasure, slicing and shooting down everyone they encounter along their way. When Chinese bandits and the Japanese army show interest for this mysterious piece of paper, enemies and bullets multiply as they are forced to alter their every-man-for-himself philosophies. As funny as it is violent, The Good brings many films to mind while simultaneously resounding with originality. Kang-ho Song is hilarious as the Weird, the source of many of the film's funniest moments, his disposition and facial expressions alone inducing laughter. Filled with stunt-rich action sequences from beginning to end, the sporadic graphic violence is evened-out by the wackiness of the whole premise, strongly supported by the mentioned humor. This creative spectacle is proof of Kim's versatility as a filmmaker and confirmation as one of Korea's most interesting directors, his resume continually consistent in quality and ambition. In the The Good, the Bad, the Weird, flamboyant aesthetics and loose historical context results in Kim giving us a West that has never been so wild.  

Distant Voices, Still Lives (UK; Terence Davies, 1988)

   This uniquely nostalgic picture transports the viewer back to mid-twentieth century Liverpool through vignettes depicting various moments in a working-class family's life in which the hardships of family and social conventions are observed and dealt with under differing perspectives of one family-member to another. Divided in two, the first part (Distant Voices) is essentially a series of flashbacks of the family's early years illustrating the strained relationship between the patriarch (Pete Postlethwaite) and the rest of the clan, Postlethwaite's performance powerful in its brutality. The second half (Still Lives) starts where the source of the flashbacks originate, after daughter Eileen's (Angela Walsh) wedding. From there on we follow a more linear timeline depicting oppressive scenes of married British life, the structure still episodic in development. Unanchored by any specific narrative drive, Voices is more like a series of nostalgic portraits intent on conveying the mores of their times. An important component of these, and the film itself, is the incredible muscis one hears in those 80 minutes. Bringing people together, music is used as a mask for misery, conjured in moments of fear and destruction in an attempt to move passed them. Joyous moments are never without a melody whereas the hard times are often silent, rendering the music even more integral to the film's enjoyment, without which Voices would have been far more depressing than it actually is.

Possessed (South Korea; Yong-Joo Lee, 2009)

  
  As is often stated in this picture, those who believe may yet be saved. Issues of blind faith and spritual possession are carefully explored in this impressive directorial debut that manages to disturb without resorting to excessive gore, the unstable atmosphere brought to life through its strange characters and ambiguous reality in which the fantastic approach is rather consistently maintained, the actual presence of supernatural forces never conclusively proven. The trouble begins when college student Hee-jin (Sang-mi Nam) gets a phone call in the middle of the night from her 13 year-old sister So-jin (Shim Eun-kyung) asking her if she's alright before suddenly hanging up. Hee-jin's confusion deepens the next morning when she learns through her mother that So-jin as disappeared, prompting her to leave school and go back home to face her fanatically religious mother and search for her sister. Sometimes aided by a detective (Seung-yong Ryoo), Hee-jin learns through recalled accounts of various tenents from her mom's appartment building that So-jin was widely acknowledged to be spritually possessed, the strangeness of which is amplified as a string of suspicious-looking suicides begin just after her disappearance. Part mystery, part ghost-story, Possessed can perhaps best be summed up through a literal translation of its original title, Bool-sin-ji-ok, which means 'Hell of the non-believers', Hee-jin's lack of faith making her stranger in hell, embodied by the appartment building that becomes a character in itself, its residents exploitative zealots that give faith a bad name. While sometimes stagnant and a bit slow, Possessed is crafty in making the audience, much like Hee-jin, doubt their own sanity in this quest to find out who's on the level or not.

Tokyo Fist (Japan; Shinya Tsukamoto, 1995)

  Love is a bloody business and Tokyo Fist just might be the bloodiest love-story ever to grace cinema screens. In true Tsukamoto style, this twisted tale of jealousy and revenge details the chaotic love triangle between two former high-school friends, Tsuda and Kojima (brothers Shinya and Koji Tsukamoto), and mystery-lady Hizuru (Kaori Fujii) who shamelessly jumps from one camp to the other, humiliating one after the other and eventually making them lose much face (literally). Kojima having followed through on pact made with Tsuda of pursuing boxing after graduation, he is now preparing for  an important fight. When Tsuda decides to start training, both for revenge and his belief that this will win Hizuru back, Kojima soon realizes that he's training for the wrong fight. Using urban landscapes and architecture in a consistently creative manner, as always Tsukamoto brings unstable characters to the edge of their own chaotic world, the sharp angles and distorted perspectives of buildings and interiors an extension of the characters' obsessions. In this case, it's boxing. Fast-tempo 90's techno is used during fights and training, supporting the quick and jerky cuts that make clear the frenzied state of the pugilists. And the blood....my God the blood. There may not be any guns in this film, but Tsukamoto really took to heart the fact that some people label their arms as such. Every punch hits like a twelve-gauge shotgun in the chest, a high-impact sound accompanying every hit, multi-hit combinations comparable to a drive-by shooting; not to mention the damage they inflict. Having watched this first thing in the morning, I can cheerfully say that Tokyo Fist is the most satisfying punch in the face to have ever woken me up.   

Standard Operating Procedure (USA; Errol Morris, 2008)

   An investigative documentary covering the events that took place in Abu Ghraib prison during the Iraq war, Standard Operating Procedure is also a testament to the power of photography as the ultimate truth-recording tool. As is mentioned more than once throughout this devastating picture, the fact that these horrid human-rights violations were caught on camera is the only reason they are known at all. Furthermore, the humiliation bestowed upon the detainees were intended to prepare them for interrogations, the latter never being witnessed or recorded. The revealing yet compartmentalized nature of the photographs makes us wonder just how much there is that we do not see, a point returned-to frequently in the film. Through Morris' unique approach, including his free-talking interviewing style and use of dramatic re-enactments, the abuses exercised at Abu Ghraib are re-lived by those responsible and witnesses alike, the prison itself coming to life as Danny Elfman's score adds weight to the already-heavy images we are being subjected to. Like the detective he once was, Morris searches for empirical truth amongst a variety of subjective ones, his cinematic methods always actively engaging the audience to weigh the speakers' credibility for themselves as it attempts to let the statements speak for themselves. His films might in part be compared to visual investigative reports, even if the pretense of objectivity seems to be dropped with the re-enactment segments, Morris' expressive use of photography another example of the medium's evocative powers. Very much like his phenomenal The Thin Blue Line (1988), Morris uses repetition to get to the true source of the events, which in turn makes his latest investigation sometimes harder to take as your head is constantly shaking in shameful amazement. 

Vampyros Lesbos (Germany/Spain; Jess Franco, 1971)

 

   Jesus Franco is easily one of the best and most famous directors of the exploitation genre. From Barbed-Wire Dolls (1975) to Love Letters of a Portuguese Nun (1977), Franco's carreer is nothing if not prolific (IMDB lists 192 titles between 1957-2010), having directed at least one film of every exploitation sub-genre, many of which have become cult classics. Considered by some to be his masterpiece, Vampyros Lesbos is Franco's rendition of the 'lesbian vampire' picture, the title being rather self-descriptive in itself. Loosely based on Bram Stoker's short story "Dracula's Guest", Vampyros follows lawyer Linda Westinghouse (Ewa Stromberg) as she is summoned to work on the inheritance issues for Countess Nadine Oskudar (Soledad Miranda). Having been seduced by the Countess in her dreams, the familiarity of meeting her in person brings them together in real-life, resulting in Linda getting her blood sucked and waking up with amnesia. Her condition leads her to a sanitarium where a vampire-expert doctor runs things and a young female patient constantly dreams of the Countess invading her body while the latter attempts to re-possess Linda, with whom she has fallen in love with. This loose narrative is but an excuse to show much blood and nudity, the cornerstone of exploitation cinema. That is not to say that that film is not well crafted; although if I see another zoom any time soon, I'm apt to blow my brains out. The camera is always zooming in or out, sometimes reminiscent of a bored father-of-four trying to enliven footage of his summer vacation. However, the actual framing of the shots and the expressive mise-en-scene are wonders to behold, as are the editing choices that add much depth to colliding images.Story and coherence aside, Vampyros is a rather enjoyable experience for those looking for what it has to offer: half-naked women and fake-looking blood.

A Bittersweet Life (South Korea; Ji-woon Kim, 2005)

 Sometimes it's worth it to admit you were wrong. Sun-woo (Byung-hun Lee) discovers this the hard way as his he is caught lying to his boss, having refused to eliminate the latter's unfaithful girlfriend and her lover, a transgression that leads to him being targeted for termination; all of which could have been avoided by simply saying three little words of concession. But stubborness is one bad motherfucker; and so is Sun-woo. Supported by an impressively beautiful musical score, Sun-woo's nearly super-human stamina is demonstrated through lengthy action sequences that are as bloody as they are creatively entertaining, containing enough guns to make John Woo proud. Almost always outnumbered, Sun-woo uses his incredible speed and fighting skills to claw his way back to face his boss, the outcome of which might demand a bit of suspension of disbelief on the viewer's part; but what film doesn't. While perhaps a bit less sadistic than Kim's more recent I Saw the Devil (2010), featured at Sundance this year, A Bittersweet Life is still psycholigically charged, the action sequences being buffered with moments of soul-searching and human frailty, Sun-woo's established powers of restraint slipping as his world gradually turns upside down and his use of violence becomes more temperamental than calculated. Much more aesthetically-conscious than most modern American film, Life is yet another fine example of South Korea's successful appropriation of the crime genre.   

Redbelt (USA; David Mamet, 2008)

  This is not Mamet's best work. While it does contain deceitful characters and sporadically interesting dialogue, the narrative decisions used to move the story along sometimes lack credibility; and the fighting scenes are peculiarly photographed. However, it does give an accurate representation of jiu jitsu applications, a martial art not typically explored in movies, unless perhaps when dealing with mixed martial arts film. Unfortunately, what little actual fighting there is in this film is not always filmed with the battle in mind, prefering to focus on the people's reaction to the feuding, a shift in emphasis typical of Mamet. While the acting style is a bit less frigid than in previous Mamet pictures, the film just doesn't deliver. The film's climax is downplayed and the reaction of the characters to the final fight seems exagerated in comparison to what we are shown, the lack of entertainment value of jiu jitsu noticeable here. Even if Redbelt offers some interesting scenes here-and-there, they don't seem enough to make up for an unfulfilling and cheesy ending.

Blue Valentine (USA; Derek Cianfrance, 2010)

 

  Character-driven films are fertile ground for exceptional acting, much of their success dependent on the skills of the players. Even if the script is solid, sloppy performances can easily knock it to the ground. Fortunately, this is not the case of with Blue Valentine, the winning screenplay for the 2006 Chrysler Film project contest. Michelle Williams (nominated for an oscar) and Ryan Gosling are utterly convincing as Cindy and Dean, a couple coming to the end of their matrimonial road. Jumping back-and-forth between the last and first days of their union, the film's non-linear and fractured structure falls in line with the tumultuous times lived through in the final stages of the relationship. The possible confusion caused by the time gaps follows the unclear reason for the couple's termination, which essentially comes down to one of those involved simply falling out of love; a concept as sudden and unexplainable as falling in love. Through Williams and Gosling's bold and honest portrayals of unstable lovers, Blue Valentine aptly explores the irrationality behind romantic politics, a game in which fairness is not always assured.