Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid (USA; Carl Reiner, 1982)

   I had seen numerous clips of this film noir spoof but had never screened it in its entirety until now. Seeing as I've been a long-time fan of both the noir genre and Steve Martin, needless to say I found this intelligently stupid parody greatly enjoyable. The perfect vehicle for Martin's deadpan, casual flakiness, Dead Men is astutely sophisticated in its satirical manipulation of film noir conventions, mocking while simultaneously giving tribute to this post-WWII cinematic movement. The film follows private eye (of course) Rigby Reardon (Martin) as he attempts to uncover some sinister plot that grows more and more absurd as the frames move along. Hired by a mysterious woman (Rachel Ward) who can extract bullets with her teeth, Reardon encounters iconic film noir personalities throughout his investigation, their parts in the plot shown through footage taken from actual noir films of that era. Humphrey Bogart's Philip Marlowe (whose quotes are plastered all over Reardon's office walls like scripture) heads the line-up of stars from the golden age that pop-up incessantly during the picture, including Ava Gardner, Ray Milland, Barbara Stanwyck, Burt Lancaster, Veronica Lake, Lana Turner and many others, the recognition of the films chosen to be inserted into the narrative adding greatly to the picture's appeal, the juxtaposition of old and new being cleverly constructed. Further adding to this is the change in context concerning the dialogue taken from the older scenes, in itself a testament to the formative powers of editing. Making fun of film noir's self-inflicted tendency of being over-complicated (as indicated by its repetitive inclusion of Bogart as Marlowe from The Big Sleep, a film known for its intentional confusion), Dead Men is absurd in the best sense of the word, letting the viewer slip into cinematic nostalgia while simultaneously cracking up to Martin's unique blend of comedy in what is arguably one of his best early titles.

Brooklyn's Finest (USA; Antoine Fuqua, 2009)

   It's a shame that Brooklyn's Finest doesn't really have a point other than establishing violent death as the only solution to law enforcement calamities. Beautifully shot, the film's gritty depiction of a world filled with crime and injustice, while often harrowing, remains but only that: a depiction. It doesn't seem to give the viewer any comment or offer any alternatives to the dysfuntional state of the NYPD that it portrays through the three disparate narratives of its protagonists: Sal (Ethan Hawke), a high-strung detective desperately seeking extra-cash; Eddie (Richard Gere), a suicidal soon-to-be-retiree who's in love with a prostitute; and Tango (Don Cheadle), a decade-long undercover cop looking for a way out. Through the various tribulations we see these characters endure, we are dually exposed to an inexperienced and exhausted police force whose lack of effective structure ultimately lead to the loss of innocent lives (a fact we are reminded of by media inserts throughout the film). While clichés abound and the character's evolution are quite predictable, the film is greatly redeemed by the crisp night-time photography and, most notably, its performances. Never having been a big fan of Gere, I was surprised by his subdued and convincing portrayal of an empty man futilely seeking to fill his void (which of course he eventually achieves through acts of violence). And as usual, Hawke and Cheadle give engagingly strong performances, the latter's Tango arguably being the film's most honorable character. The film is also strengtened by the appearance of Ellen Barkin and Wesley Snipes, refreshing as a multi-targeted crime boss. While it lacks the social awareness and psychologial depth of earlier cop dramas like Narc (Joe Carnahan, 2002) or Dark Blue (Ron Shelton), Brooklyn's Finest remains a fine addition to the cop-film family, another brutal reflection on the hardening times gone through by the boys in blue.

The Sandlot (USA; David M. Evans, 1993) - Revisited

   Me writing about this film, while being a tribute to what I consider to be one of the best films ever made about baseball, also serves to explain why I haven't written much about films lately, my last post strangely coinciding with the start of the new baseball season and the beginning of my addiction to mlb.tv. Having the time and opportunity to watch ballgames this season, that's exactly what I'm doing. Obviously I will also be watching films during the summer and when I hit on one that's worth mentioning I will surely write about it. Interestingly enough, the movies I have been watching lately, due in part to my surroundings, have been children's films and therefore had a chance to re-experience one of my childhood favorites, once again following Smalls, Bennie 'the Jet' Rodriguez and the rest of the baseball ruffians in The Sandlot as they try to get their priceless baseball back from the Beast, a neighborhood watchdog. Focusing primarily on baseball as a unifying enterprise, The Sandlot is part of a small group of children's pictures of the 90s which stand-out amongst its peers as not having any antagonists per say, letting the children's innocence blossom and grow unencumbered without any imminent (usually criminal) threat from the outside (adult) world; an innocence that gets shattered through the normal course of childhood rather than by an imposed adult intrusion. While there are adults in the picture, their understanding of common elements differ widely in perception (the most crucial of which being the Babe Ruth-signed baseball) and the film's central threat turns out to be unfounded and erroneous. The only thing that can be taken at face-value in The Sandlot is baseball, the only reality that remains unchanged and unfazed from beginning to end. In setting the film in the 60's, the film also brings us back to when the game was just a game, before the days of 275 M$ contracts and HGH, reminding us that only kids really know how to play the game.

Geronimo: An American Legend (USA; Walter Hill, 1993)

    I remember this movie being released when I was 11 years-old and so I find it surprising that I had never seen it before, seeing as I used to watch practically any and every film that came out at the time. Furthermore, I've always considered Walter Hill to be an underrated director and was curious to see what else he could do with the western after The Long Riders (1980). Here he deals with the 'true' story of Geronimo (Wes Studi), the last of the Apache rebels to oppose being relocated to a reservation by the United States army. Powerful in its depiction of the brutal treatment of native Americans and the beautiful land that was rightfully theirs, Geronimo is a great exploration of the prejudiced ignorance that lies in the heart of men, unforunately overcome only by a handful of people. Seen through the eyes of narrator Lt. Britton Davis (Matt Damon), the give-and-take nature of the Apache conflict is the cause for many violent battles, the insincere promises of the American government regenerating hatred that had temporarily been subdued. The idea of loyalty is also questioned through the relationship between the fighting Apaches and the assimilated scouts working for the army. While no creative endeavor can totally be considered hisorically accurate, the inclusion of recorded events, such as the photography session of the negotiations between Geronimo and General Crooke (Gene Hackman), adds much weight and credibility to a film that could have easily been just another action film (incidentally the historical accuracy seems to be more emphasized than in The Long Riders). More than engaging horse-back shoot-outs and breathtaking landscapes, Geronimo offers a revealing glimpse into a morally shady period of American history which, unfortunately, most people are too quick to forget.

Asylum (UK; Roy Ward Baker, 1972)

   This episodic(anthology) horror film is emblematic of the 1970's brittish horror films in that upon hindsight, it is far more funnier than it is scary. While this one is not produced by Hammer studios, it could very well be mistaken as such due to its polished visual treatment of exploitative content (although the Hammer pictures I've seen contain more exploitative material such as blood and nutidty). Furthermore, the film's director is responsible for one of Hammer's signature lesbian vampire pictures, Vampire Lovers (1970), a suprisingly good picture whose success can be strongly attributed to Baker's visual treatment. Similarly, the same could be said of Asylum, whose patched-up narratives come from the imagination of Robert Bloch, perhaps best known for writing 'Psycho', the novel that served as the basis for Hitchcock's 1960 film. When a young psychiatrist (Robert Powell) gets summoned to an isolated asylum, his job interview consists of a challenge in identifying, through interviews with four patients, the establishment's head physician who has recently been admitted as a patient himself and has taken on a different personality. The narratives in question are flashbacks into the patients' reasons for internment. With the participation of Peter Cushing, Patrick Magee and Charlotte Rampling, Asylum is good, ridiculous fun, whose ideas behind the horror elements are more frightening than the elements themselves, which by today's standards would be considered dépassé. However, more than a simple document of its time, Asylum is an intriguing exploration into the qualifications of sanity and the risks they ultimately present.

Sucker Punch (USA/Canada; Zack Snyder, 2011)

   Oh boy, what a mess. Granted, it is a beautiful one, but a mess nonetheless. While Snyder's comic-like visual style clearly demonstrates talent and creativity, the script that it is bringing to life clearly does not. Co-written by Snyder, it is a clear indicator that some talents should remain focused on story-telling rather than story-creating, the film's loose and random structure being largely responsible for making it hard to take seriously as the uninspired dialogue doesn't help the already-limited cast to appear any more convincing than the rest of the premise; which, in turn, mistakes complicated for intelligent, and not even that complicated at that. When Baby Doll (Emily Browning) gets sent to an insane asylum to await an upcoming lobotomy, she mentally escapes to a parallel world transforming the hospitlal into a brothel. When she recruits some of the girls/patients to help her escape, the missions to acquire the items needed are turned into elaborate action sequences taking place in a ever-changing fantasy world with characteristics that range from medieval castles to WWI planes. As someone I know appropriately observed, this is like teenage videogame geek's wet dream, except this time disappointment comes before waking up. It's a shame because I usually enjoy Snyder's pictures (even Watchmen), just now realizing he should stick to directing other people's imaginations. While Sucker Punch is easily entertaining, the limbo-like feeling of the action in question, no matter how stylized and polished it may be, leaves one constantly questioning the intended heaviness of the themes explored, making one wonder when exactly will I begin to care.

One Day in September (Switzerland/ Germany/ UK; Kevin Macdonald, 1999)

  
   I wish I could show this movie to the narrow-minded people whom I've heard over the years claiming that documentaries were boring. Watching this constantly engaging documentary recapitulating the 1972 Munich Olympics hostage situation, one understands how its director made such an immediately successful transition into fiction film-making with The Last King of Scotland (2006). Macdonald builds his documentaries like fiction films, using many conventions of the latter even if there are many filmed interviews, which in turn remind us that we are watching the former. In his beautifully shot Touching the Void (2003), most of the films is made-up of completely re-enacted footage depicting actors going through the tribulations detailed by the two protagonists' real-voice narrations, the audience obliged to take their words for truth, having no other record of the actual incident. In September, the situation is completely reversed. The only new footage includes the interviewed segments and inserts of the deceased athlete's families, the bulk of the film consisting of stock news footage covering the incident at the time. The entire event is recreated through a dynamic selection of shots interspersed with news casters and most notably the testimony of the only surviving terrorist speaking for the first time about the horrible ordeal. Whether the film's gripping rhythm is due to its already heated topic and themes or the hand behind its conception is perhaps arguable. What is not, however, is my confidence in daring anybody to find this film boring.