The Loved Ones (Australia; Sean Byrne, 2009)

     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 Hard Candy (David Slade, 2005) and Audition (Takashi Miike, 1999), Loved Ones 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 Loved Ones 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.

Lawless (USA; John Hillcoat, 2012)

  

     Being a big fan of the 2005 western The Proposition,  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 The Proposition, 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, Lawless 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 The Proposition) 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. 

Skyfall (UK/USA; Sam Mendes, 2012)

     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.

The Man with the Iron Fists (USA/Hong Kong; RZA, 2012)

       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, Man in the Iron Fists 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-Riki-Oh, 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.

Holy Motors (France/Germany; Leos Carax, 2012)

      If you like conclusive answers with your cinema, Holy Motors 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, Holy Motors, through its inquisitive entertainment, realizes like few others the full potential of what cinema can be.

The Master (USA; Paul Thomas Anderson, 2012)

     P.T. Anderson has come a long way since Hard Eight (1996) and Boogie Nights (1997). With The Master, 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 The Master 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 Two Lovers 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 The Master 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).

Flight (USA; Robert Zemeckis, 2012)

   
          I thought it interesting, and slightly curious, that Zemeckis, waiting 12 years to direct a new live-action feature after 2000's Castaway, would once again tackle a narrative revolving around a plane crash. However, where Castaway was relatively refreshing in its principal subject matter (isolation on a deserted island), Flight 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 (Man on Fire, Training Day, American Gangster) 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 Flight, 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, Flight might have been just about another barfly refusing to end his days of wine and roses.

Ted (USA; Seth MacFarlane, 2012)

     It would be easy to say that Ted is Family Guy 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, Ted is still much more satisfying than most recent American comedies (seen The Watch 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 Ted's furry antics give us the most original, laugh-out-loud bromance comedy since 2009's I Love You Man (and you don't have to be a Family Guy fan to appreciate it).

The Last Starfighter (USA; Nick Castle, 1984)

     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 WarGames (John Badham, 1983), Tron (Steven Lisberger, 1982) and Weird Science (John Hughes, 1985), to seem dated and hard to take seriously for today's audience. Of these titles, The Last Starfighter 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, The Last Starfighter remains often enjoyable and surprisingly easy to go along with. 

Cloud Atlas (Germany/USA/Hong Kong/ Singapore; Andy Wachowski, Lana Wachowski & Tom Tykwer, 2012)

     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), Cloud Atlas 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, Cloud Atlas rewards those patient souls who are willing to be whisked away by its all-encompassing symphony.

Damon Wayans: The Last Stand? (USA; Terry McCoy, 1990)

      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 Delirious (1983) and Raw (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, Raw 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.

The Campaign (USA; Jay Roach, 2012)

   
     Released near the end of this year's real-life presidential election, The Campaign 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.
        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
PR reversals), I was just disappointed in the film's ultimate superficiality when it had such a promising start. I guess we will have to wait a little longer for another Wag the Dog (Barry Levinson, 1997), Primary Colors (Mike Nichols, 1998) or Bullworth (Warren Beatty, 1998). Meanwhile, it looks like we're stuck with another political comedy in the tradition of My Fellow Americans (Peter Segal, 1996), although thankfully much funnier.

 p.s. Where's Bob Roberts when we need him!

Cold Fish (Japan: Sono Sion, 2010)

        Through its disturbing and unbalanced characters, in particular the film's protagonist Nobuyuki Syamoto (Mitsuru Fukikoshi), Cold Fish 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, Cold Fish 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 Cold Fish  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.     

Miami Connection (U.S.A/ Hong Kong; Richard Park, 1987)

     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.
     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 Story of Ricky), is accompanied by attempts at drama that mark the film's funniest moments. The perfect films to watch drunk (or whatever else) with friends, Miami Connection is another great bad classic that lives up to high expectations of welcomed mediocrity.

Hatfields and McCoys (USA; Kevin Reynolds, 2012)

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 Hatfields and McCoys a strong and welcome addition to the recent Western television series such as Deadwood and  Hell on Wheels, making one wonder when the movies are finally gonna catch up.  

The Land of Hope (Japan; Sono Sion, 2012)

More tamed in content than the previous Sion Sono pictures that I have seen, The Land of Hope 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), Land of Hope gracefully forces its audience to assume and confront their own views regarding one of today's most imminent geographical concern.

The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975 (Sweden; Goran Olsson, 2011)

   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.