We Told You What to Dream

My Week: January 28, '12

2012-01-28T10:57:00.002-05:00

Jennifer's Body
Karyn Kusama, 2009
Good high school movies are immortal. In the time between the insolence of "Juno" and the maturation of "Young Adult", the name "Diablo Cody" was aural poison to me, and when I heard the star writer and "Transformers" tramp Megan Fox were combining forces, it sounded like a nightmare come true. Falling in love with "Young Adult" encouraged me to give it a go, however, and boy had I been wrong. Oh, it's Diablo "Oh My Blog" Cody and her "crazy characters" to be sure, but something about the delivery here makes it all flow considerably smoother. Phrases like "You're lime green Jell-O" actually work - on quotable levels, even. And Fox? The role plays up the fleeting sensation's ostensible "bitchy popular girl" qualities, rendering negatives shockingly admirable on a performance level while creating a humorously metaphoric portrait of high school hierarchy and insecurity that reaches and cuts through what is overall a likewise hilarious, infectious, sexy and occasionally freaky flick. Like with Kirsten Dunst after "Melancholia" (to a relatively lesser extent, mind you), I guess I can't make fun of Megan Fox anymore. And I used to have such fun likening her to a used Angelina Jolie blow-up doll. Screenshots after the jump.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
David Fincher, 2011
Just as I felt Fincher's last middling effort never really rose above being "that Facebook movie", the director's likewise middling "Dragon Tattoo" (or, as I like to call it, "D-Tat") never really rises above being "that shameless English-language cash-in we've already seen". The question is, have we seen it better than this? That's a tricky one; I hesitate to lean one way or the other. Personally, while I feel Fincher's film is more nicely shot overall, I'd venture that - with nothing against the wholly impressive and (perhaps inappropriately) sexy turn from newcomer Rooney Mara - Noomi Rapace is the superior Lisbeth Salander and that the original Swedish adaptation of Stieg Larsson's novel, which I'm not even all that crazy about to begin with, carries a somewhat less slapdash pacing (the new, somewhat admirably Chris Cunningham-esque opening credits in particular feel totally shoehorned in). Maybe the better question is, should I really care? Is this story really so good it deserves such treatment, or is it just an obvious case of studio greed? I'm not so sure. Both films are entertaining enough to captivate for 2+ hours despite the repeated and incidentally all-important story, and are occasionally nice to look at (hence my inclusion of the screencap above, where typically I wouldn't provide as much for a film I was less than enthusiastic about). At one point I had hope for Fincher (that practically obligatory time in a male's youth when "Fight Club" is considered divine, though now I'd still never go as far as to deem it - or the Palahniuk source novel for that matter - anywhere near unessential), but I'm concerned after the downward (yet immensely popular) spiral charting "Panic Room" through "Benjamin Button" that his works have garnered themselves a serious case of hubris to go with a growing stigma of the money-grubbing studio circuit. All that said, just to clarify: I did enjoy this new "D-Tat", but it never quite shook the idea that I was wasting my time and money with conspicuously recycled product.

Further first-time viewings:

Underworld: Awakening - Måns Mårlind & Björn Stein, 2012
More a passable "B" movie that happens to star Kate Beckinsale's Selene as opposed to a true "Underworld" film, this relatively rude "Awakening" is not as bad a continuation of a good trilogy as last year's "Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides", though it does make many of the same missteps. Beckinsale herself has indicated that the production was strange as Len Wiseman & Co. are hardly involved (if at all) and on top of that most worthwhile supporting characters have been killed off. What results is a less significant and instantly forgettable chapter that introduces a tedious human contingent and all but ignores the important events of its priors while awkwardly dodging the fact that Scott Speedman didn't agree to return as vampire/lycan hybrid Michael. It's unfortunate such rich characters have been allowed to fall to this level of inconsequence, particularly at this moment we've been waiting to see the results of. That's not to mention the unnecessary (yet unobtrusive) 3D. Hard-hitting action dominates over the excess exposition that has always been the series' weak spot (and here details goings-on of the greatest ridiculousness yet), but lacks the style that made Wiseman's directorial entries so memorable ("Evolution", baby). Though not bad per se, it shares more in common with a straight-forward "Ultraviolet" than a feminine "Blade". If there is to be the inevitably (and lazily) teased fifth installment, bring back Wiseman or else things are looking qualitatively grim for everyone's favorite death dealer. You may, however, keep the new side characters (played by India Eisley, Michael Ealy, Theo James and a fittingly Bill Nighy-esque Charles Dance)... by the end of the picture they were somehow managing to grow on me, despite the fact that I've basically already forgotten about them.

Total: 3

Rewatches (3): Jennifer's Body (Kusama, 2009), Black Swan (Aronofsky, 2010), Æon Flux (Kusama, 2005)
- Though I was never full-on in love with "Black Swan" (and consider it lesser in the generously relative terms of Aronofsky), upon my theatrical viewing I was thoroughly impressed by its many intricately interlocking layers and cinematography, from rapid-fire alterations between extreme close-up and first-person to the flowing dance sequences in general, all of which culminates dramatically in a forceful third act. Upon this much delayed second viewing on Blu-Ray... it just kinda feels goofy. Not bad, though. Not bad.
- How do movies like "Æon Flux" happen? I'm forgiving of the flick, because a meager portion of its source show's sheer brilliance is intact (IE self-cloning and burgeoning transhumanism), but overall it's cold and uninspired. I don't know how one can look at Peter Chung's "Æon Flux" television program - which is basically one of my favorite things ever - and come up with such a sleepwalky adaptation. One of these days I'll get around to drafting an article comparing the products (while at least acknowledging the PS2 video game that acts as a connecting piece, regarding the two as separate entities in the same continuity).

Episodic Television (1 Series, 1 Episode): High School of the Dead (Democracy Under the Dead - Streets of the Dead)
- I figured things would get more serious, but I didn't predict how quickly. Already I'm seeing what will surely become an affecting relationship between the two key protagonists, while the peril of the undead apocalypse is depicted here perhaps more effectively than I've seen in motion. Nothing will compare to Robert Kirkman's comic series "The Walking Dead" in that respect, but if anything, "High School" is doing a far more effective job than the television adaptation of that series. And hey, can't argue with fun references. We've already heard a Romero name drop (mispronounced by the ditzy nurse character, naturally)... and instead of Shell, was that a Shaun gas station? Yes, yes it was.

Rewatches (1 Episode): High School of the Dead (Spring of the Dead)

Video Games (New!): Kirby & the Amazing Mirror
- I've never been a Kirby devotee, but there's no denying the irreverent fun Nintendo's pink puff can bring to the platforming genre. The entirely connected labyrinthian lands of "Amazing Mirror" can be head-spinning at times as you realize what doors go where, how far back you're sent upon death and that you really should have strived harder to keep that rock helmet around because now you have to backtrack 15 rooms, but haplessly floating around and adopting the now-staple Kirby enemy abilities (my favorites are fighter and smash, but whose wouldn't be?) while discovering secrets and integral hidden paths is an undeniably good time-killer that in this case - the case of likely the best Kirby game I've yet encountered - should not see a finite end for some time.

My Week: January 21, '12

2012-01-21T08:32:00.002-05:00

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Tomas Alfredson, 2011
I don't believe I'll ever get enough of cerebrally conflicted men wrestling their way through an urban stroll while a melancholy trumpet fades and swells in the background. Though purportedly dry and prohibitive, Alfredson's "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" update took me by surprise with quietly riveting scenes highlighting pent-up tension and subtle paranoia, a mood to die for and drool-worthy cinematography all anchored by a characteristically stellar but uncharacteristically sober Gary Oldman. Regardless of story - which is intriguing and adroitly woven, to be sure - I simply want to bask in the film's definitively convicted aura. We don't see timeless classics like this very often, anymore.

Haywire
Steven Soderbergh, 2012
"B"-grade action and intrigue (but mostly action) gets a pedigree with the help of Soderbergh's expert eye and pacing sense and a Soderberghian indeed all-star cast. When the director said he had crafted a film around the essence of MMA star Gina Carano, he meant it - as Carano is lethal and sexy, so goes the arbitrarily titled film with more than a share of superbly crafted sequences highlighting tense and practically minimalist chases focused on, well, focus, to tenser siege, Carano's beautifully intricate to harshly blunt physical tactics allowed to poetically inhabit the wide shot... and one fairly lame yet easily forgivable computer animated deer. Here's to one heck of a solid dose of fun, and here's to more Carano in the near future! More, I say!

Contraband
Baltasar Kormákur, 2012
If Michael Mann went the route of the now all but creatively emptied Dario Argento, he might make something exactly like Baltasar Kormákur's American directorial remake of his 2008 Icelandic production, "Reykjavik: Rotterdam". That's not to imply, however, that "Contraband" is anything but pure wall-to-wall entertainment that works to worthily earn your ticket price while using a premise seemingly inspired by every 1970s Pam Grier picture. I would find it very difficult to have anything but a grand ol' time watching this hyper-grittily shot flick that thrives on unfiltered Marky Mark energy. When Mark is grilling an adversary in true Wahlberg fashion, I always want him to say, "So I'm gonna be nice... now where the fuck is Ringo?" There's even a scene when he comments on the wolfishness of a smuggled canine; if only he'd knelt down to calmly offer, "Hi there wolf, I'm Mark Wahlberg. You know you're in my movie 'Contraband' right now? Okay, say hello to your mother for me." And that's just a fraction of the fun. The cinematography's appealing grime lends a sense of realism to the proceedings no matter how preposterous they become as things go from bad to worse to totally-off-the-handle-Giovanni Ribisi-ness while always retaining a whimsical nature - you can genuinely laugh amidst the true tension and thrills. Speaking of the supporting cast, it's tough to assemble better quartets of talent and good looks, and once "A Good Day to Die Hard" hits people are sure to look back and wonder why in the world Ben Foster wasn't a bigger star sooner.

Further first-time viewings:

The Limey - Steven Soderbergh, 1999
Tough to hate on a film that opens with a sequence edited well under one of my favorites songs by one of my favorite bands, but as it trudges on there's really very little for me to get out of "The Limey", which feels like Soderbergh to be sure, but Soderbergh on a suffocating budget, and not in the boldly experimental "Bubble"/"Girlfriend Experience" kind of way. Terence Stamp's pretty nuts, though; I've always enjoyed the words "sod" and "toss".

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close - Stephen Daldry, 2011
Just like with "The Tree of Life", --no, no, I can't keep a straight face through such a sardonic likening. "Extremely Loud" is an ugly, overlong and frequently obnoxious exercise in the insignificance of individuality, contrary to what could have been a nice series of vignettes about various people across the five boroughs. The longer it goes on without feeling like it's going anywhere (added to its few points of actual - yet meager - substance being predictable down to the letter) the less and less it becomes possible to so much as care why any of it is going on. And why even bother with 9/11? Oh, because there is indeed nothing else to actually care about on this unfocused journey relegated to blunt and misinterpreted snapshots of unimportance. Why not exploitatively show the towers crumbling to cloy some modicum of relatable emotion? A fictional, even smaller scale disaster would have sufficed, but then it really may have been an impossibility to give the tiniest crap about the annoying, pseudo-philosophical Tom Hanks character's catalytic death (prior to which he weaves an out-of-place crack on religion along the lines of "If it can be believed, why not believe it?") while Thomas Horn - playing the gratingly awkward and suggestively named Oskar - appears to mug for box cover every time he's in frame. And people say "A Clockwork Orange" is weird. Now it kind of makes sense as to why a Hanks/Bullock awards bait movie featuring 9/11 was so hidden away by an unexpectedly limited release. Daldry's lowest moment? So far, anyway. At least he'll always have "The Reader" (wonder if Hugh Jackman's seen that yet).

Total: 5

Rewatches (2): Young Adult (Reitman, 2011), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (Alfredson, 2011)
- Managed to catch the second-to-last showing of "Young Adult" at the last venue in town still screening it. I... am satisfied.

Episodic Television (New!): High School of the Dead (Spring of the Dead - Escape from the Dead)
- "High School of the Dead" carries all the panache of a fleetingly carefree seventeen year-old lip-synching to contemporary hard rock in the womb-like privacy of his shower. I mean to say, it's pretty awesome! Anime can get away with so much, and my own tastes lean unashamedly toward the more fan-servicey of the broad style (with the endearing East-meets-West of "Burst Angel" ever holding my ultimate favorite slot), so when blood is delectably splattering from decaying flesh in every direction yet the artists choose to focus on jiggling breasts and shiny up-skirt shots, that's fine, just fine. Hilariously so, at that - as of yet, though I don't doubt it may grow more serious as it progresses, this program is one to be taken with tongue firmly in cheek and is proving a comfy spot to simply escape to.

My Week: January 14, '12

2012-01-14T09:53:00.001-05:00

Carnage
Roman Polanski, 2011
Though I haven't had the distinct pleasure, "The God of Carnage" struck my fancy from the stage and the arrival of four new actors of pedigree under the direction of Roman Polanski had me more than a little thrilled. "Carnage" highlights Yasmina Reza's classic comedic playwriting loaded with little lovable character touches - work on par with the likes of "Arsenic & Old Lace" - as brought to life especially well by Jodie Foster and Christoph Waltz, though that is not to discredit the other two ever-reliable talents in the least. Wariness is advised for couples - as the characters hilariously swap alliances and oppositions amongst one another through contemporarily raw human nature over the course of an hour and twenty minutes (going through the motions of politeness but constantly, also hilariously, trying to end their meeting) it will be easy for one to have and audible knee-jerk reaction of agreement or disgust with certain (particularly gender-concerned) sociological observations. Similar to the likewise purposefully inconclusive "Burn After Reading", "Carnage" is thoroughly funny and quotable (despite a dubiously harmonious, Haneke-esque bookend). At first this quality is in rather a tongue-in-cheek manner though I suspect that, just like with the Coens flick, with each repeat viewing I'll be rolling and bellowing more and more.

The Artist
Michel Hazanavicius, 2011
For nigh a century, "talkies" have been the Hollywood-generated norm, in the same sense that since the '80s, thanks to Sony's Walkman, portable music has been "normal" and analog can be widely considered "weird". What we never truly needed becomes automatically expected as our collective innocence lessens with each advance. The design of "The Artist" knows well this climate of product, tailored with a narrative more than justifying with relative subtlety what could have been a mere gimmick - its claim to fame as a new millennium silent film. The styling is eclectic, ranging from homages to popular silents themselves including American romances and adventures, epic Soviet propaganda and legendary German affairs up through more noted Orson Welles pictures, trashy bandwagon franchises and fleeting filler. Modern sensibilities regarding pacing, editing, camera angles, character development and picture quality (if that counts) have been imbued to aid the successfully enveloping nature of the experiment, though I could have done without the accessibility-broadening canine sidekick. Our sequence of events will feel explicitly familiar to any fan of "Singin' in the Rain", and perhaps that's no coincidence as star Jean Dujardin emulates Gene Kelly in a big way (to the point that protagonist George Valentin almost feels like Don Lockwood is having a bad dream), but oddly it's only once these similarities fall by the wayside in the second half that the film seems to wallow, apparently unsure how to capitalize beyond its depressive lament for a dying art form. In terms of 2011 films celebrating the silent era, "Hugo" takes the cake, but "The Artist" is an experience not to be missed on the big screen.

Jackass 3D
Jeff Tremaine, 2010
There's a lot to be said about the fact that "Jackass 3D" held its premiere at the Museum of Modern Art. One could mock up the film's summary as a poetic series of video documents celebrating camaraderie and fellowship through the dramaturgy of abandon and vulgarity. Basally, it's all about upping the persistent shock value's ante, and the storied boys have certainly triumphed on high in that regard with the highest entertainment value here quite possibly being their own intact shock and disbelief at the acts they inflict upon themselves and one another. They tickle both the funny bone and gag reflex, often simultaneously, with rapid-fire daredevilry that pays homage to the legacy of both "Jackass" itself and the general MTV mentality (pre-"Shot of Love"). Knoxville, Steve-O, Bam, Dunn, Wee-Man and the rest of the gang have... I'm debating using the term "achieved" here... yes, achieved a pinnacle in the world of stunt/prank pornography that does in many regards deserve the ostentatious location of its premiere. I never thought I'd say this, but I really do wish I'd seen it in 3D.

Total: 3

Rewatches (1): Young Adult (Reitman, 2011)
- Here's a (likely foolish) sob (slash whine) story for you. Though I figured my fourth was my final theatrical viewing of "Young Adult", during its last week at my theater I got the itch once more. I planned for Wednesday at 2:20 - the only time that would have worked within my hectic schedule - but a getting-the-girlfriend's-vehicle-professionally-cleaned obligation came up and I forced myself to be understanding of the priority. The film will be on Blu-Ray soon enough, anyway (ha, "soon enough", who am I kidding?). So at precisely 2:20 on Wednesday I showed up to the car wash... which was closed! Because it had sprinkled at 10AM!! Admittedly, I was livid (still kind of ticked, to be honest). What a tease. I finally figured, okay, I'll just have to go to the next closest theater... their showtimes are 4:20 and 9:50 (yes, I knew the other theater's times for "Young Adult" offhand). But oh, wait, they're not showing it into the new week, either! Blast!! Curses!!! I'll get you next time, Gadget!!!! So, in desperation, I did it. I... downloaded a cam. YES! I confess!! After supporting the film with a total of six admits and planning to purchase the Blu-Ray ASAP, I did the politically unthinkable and grabbed an illegal torrent! It looks terrible (tilted, off-center, flickery), it sounds terrible (echoey, audience noises)... but it's still "Young Adult"!! It'll have to do.

My Week: January 7, '12

2012-01-07T11:10:00.000-05:00

Teknolust
Lynn Hershman-Leeson, 2002
Sure, not the most stellar of starts my 2012 could have seen. Hey, I'm a little burned out (even skipped an opportunity to see "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" for free in favor of just lying there... on the bed there). There will always be more and more films to traverse - upcoming gems and an endless backlog of treasures - but for now, simply for the sake of keeping this column a weekly affair, I'm reveling in the endearingly cheap softcore pornography-esque aesthetic of apparently cyber erotica-centric auteur Lynn Hershman-Leeson's second collaboration with Tilda Swinton. "Teknolust" features four very different Tildas, one of whom is named Rosetta Stone and wishes she looked like Björk and three of whom are clones surviving on sperm injections and routinely dancing for their creator as pictured above. Fun stuff? Oh, you know it. "This is the life, this is the life..."

Total: 1

Rewatches (1): Friends with Benefits (Gluck, 2011)

How to Exploit Skyrim's Power-Window for Destruction Magic

2012-01-07T11:05:00.000-05:00

By now we're all hip to the various methods to "power-level" certain skills, but where's the fun in sneak attacking Hadvar near that bear for an hour when you'll surely level that skill in your forthcoming quests anyhow? Here's the thing, though... some skills seem all but entirely off-limits to certain play styles. Myself, I'm more archery-oriented, though I do use both one- and two-handed weapons along with blocking to garner all-important perks from their skill-ups. Thereby does magic become a tricky field - in building the best archer possible I focus on health and stamina bonuses with each level-up, leaving magicka by the wayside. With magicka-fortified armor and whatnot it isn't an impossibility to level certain schools over time, and restoration is practically a must if only for the oh-so-basic "healing" spell that slowly but surely reaches its skill peak, but if there's one school that's essentially off-limits for the physical battler, it's destruction.

Well, it was off-limits until I stumbled upon this little window of opportunity in the College of Winterhold's main questline. Once my second character reached the "Staff of Magnus" chapter (immediately following the return from dealing with the Synod in Mzulft) I discovered during the onslaught of magical anomalies upon Winterhold that my magicka meter wasn't appearing whenever I cast minor restoration magic. In further testing I realized the same was the case for minor destruction spells. My magicka would still deplete when casting more powerful spells and I was still restricted from spells costing more than my full pool, but the replenish time was exponentially increased (think stamina in werewolf mode). I never noticed this on my first character, and even distinctly recall using potions instead of healing magic during that chapter for whatever reason so if the same was the case (thereby likely for many, though there is little indication of as much in-game and I haven't found like reports online) I simply did not recognize it. It makes sense story-wise, too, since the Synod imply the Eye of Magnus is affecting magic across Skyrim and Ancano's meddling surely doesn't help contain it.

NOTE: I do find that after several game saves the ability fades. I presume it's either a beneficial glitch occurring at an appropriate time and only lasting approximately two game days, or it's reliant on how near or far you are from Winterhold (this theory of proximity I have not tested).

Why is this such a big deal? Well, of course, now (until the Staff of Magnus chapter is completed, anyway) you can cast unlimited minor destruction magic! Here's what I did to max my archer's destruction in under two hours:

- Assign Healing to one hand, Frostbite to the other
- Approach Nightcaller Temple (above Dawnstar) to engage three Frost Trolls
- Simultaneously cast your two spells while bobbing and weaving through the Trolls' attacks

WHY THIS WORKS
To level up destruction, your spell requires a valid target. What's more, Trolls (the Frost variety being the hardiest Skyrim has to offer) regenerate health (but are weak to fire, which is why we're not using Flames here) so with care these guys can provide nearly unlimited skilling. You don't have to go to Nightcaller Temple - Labyrinthian (where the Staff of Magnus rests, coincidentally) or other Frost Troll-infested locales would surely work fine, too - I just like the open space the hillside approaching the temple provides.

YOU MAY ALSO WANT TO TRY...
If you haven't maxed them already, equip an assortment of heavy and light armor and stop on occasion to let the gorilla-like trolls bash on you for a bit. Not only will this increase your capacity for restoration skill-ups, it'll obviously give you some heavy and light armor skill-ups as well. That's four skills being power-leveled at once!

BUT BE CAREFUL...
Don't space out from the potential repetition of this practice and lose track of your health or the health of the trolls. Not only do you not want to die by letting yourself get pummeled a little too much, you don't want to lose your skill fodder by going a little too crazy with the Frostbite, either. You'll also want to avoid using something like Boethiah's Ebony Mail (a mistake I realized I was making when one of the three trolls suddenly collapsed before me despite my having relented for the moment).

Hope this helps! Enjoy those extra perks!

My Top 10 of '11

2012-01-02T15:49:00.011-05:00

2011 is not only the first year I've kept strict track of every film I've seen and ranked new releases along the way, it's without question the year in which I've watched the most movies. And it's been quite a success in that regard! Not only do I feel I have a solid top ten for the year itself - to the point that half of them could have been #1s for many other years - I have also seen a slew of excellent films from prior years. I finally delved further in to Brosens, discovered Pa so lini, fleshed out my experiences with Woody Allen and took in firsts and then some from auteurs I was blind to such as Byambasüren, Żuławski, Parajanov, Resnais, Reygadas, Merhige, Tarr, etcetera, etcetera.

I might've liked to post this year-end summary a couple days sooner - so it goes - and as I imagine is the case with anyone sans worldwide festival access there are still certain titles I'd like to have seen (listed further down) so this list of course carries potential for slight change, but here are the top ten films I loved most from 2011 (strictly by IMDb dates, and only three of which had been on my "most anticipated" list), beginning with the best of the best:

Young Adult [Initial Review]
I have fallen head over heels for Diablo Cody and Jason Reitman's latest, which is a vast improvement over my reaction to their first collaboration. Truly, I am obsessed, and practically refuse to see anything else in theaters until the 35mm finishes its run (I've attempted to see other films but always wind up switching my ticket, thinking something along the lines of "Why isn't the horse actually Charlize Theron and why isn't World War I actually Mercury, MN?"). I mean, just look, even my wardrobe (and my girlfriend's) now consists of more hot pinks and bold greens inspired by lead character Mavis Gary's bemused theatrical poster get-up. "Young Adult" is fascinatingly dense with layers upon layers of a deep sociological examination - that, despite its immediate outlandishness, makes brilliant sense on every level when dissected - while remaining absolutely hilarious on the surface. The juxtapositions of characters and evoked emotions as well as the ever-effervescing themes of varied success, the meaning of a homecoming, personal identity and self-confidence are as addicting as putting "The Concept" by Teenage Fanclub on repeat. With honors, this is my favorite film of the year and a more than welcome member amongst my favorites of all time. Keep watch for an upcoming article detailing further exactly why I am so in love with "Young Adult".

Drive [Initial Review]
Nicolas Winding Refn was primed to bowl me over again after I became so taken with his prior "Valhalla Rising", and with "Drive" he does exactly that and more. In ideal and thoroughly affecting unison with the year's best soundtrack, Refn's careful and unadulterated landscape of a slick character's quiet and willing descent through the work of hands dirtier than his own in effort to simply help a friend is the stuff seat-glue is made of. The atmosphere conjured is so palpable you can reach out and smash its face in.

Midnight in Paris [Initial Review]
We're accustomed to and gladly accepting of strikingly similar structures with slightly varying themes from outing to outing with Woody Allen, but with the purely delightful, surprising and beautiful "Midnight in Paris" the Manhattan master has given us a refreshed gateway to his oeuvre with some of the most intricately brilliant and honestly self-reflexive writing of his almost 50 features. I defy you to wipe the grin from your face.

Melancholia [Initial Review]
With this pseudo-apocalyptic portrait Lars von Trier inflicted a stigma upon me - one in which I dwelled for days, enjoying the - indeed, melancholy - feeling that had begun welling up from the picture's jaw-gaping onset and finally exploded in a wave of blue that plastered me to the wall. The Blu-Ray cannot arrive quickly enough!

The Tree of Life [Initial Review]
The identity of "The Tree of Life" within film circles as I know it is as the quintessential art/vanity picture about existentialism with something intimate for everybody. Much the same way I lambaste the trailer for "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" for being pure Oscar bait, the trailer for Terrence Malick's latest could easily be labeled the same for the Cannes crowd - with a sensationally stinging caress it pushes nearly every button I have to be pushed in its distinct realm. The film itself follows suit, more or less generating an endlessly applicable experience of life and death, the before and the after, "nature" and "grace", evolution and/or creation and - all-importantly - memory, with the sheer gorgeousness of both daringly improvisational and artfully precise cinematography and an utterly eargasmic score.

La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In) [Initial Review]
I don't kick around the term "perfect" very often, but for what it seeks to achieve Almodóvar's newest is very close to being as such. I believe all that's missing is a more overt sense of deliberation a la Kubrick, the master auteur the revered Almodóvar appears quite inspired by in this project. With one of the best "WTF" storylines of the year and some of the most masterful and purposed dialogue and visuals, "The Skin I Live In" will stick to you, unpeeling for weeks.

We Bought A Zoo [Initial Review]
With an always-growing adoration of "Elizabethtown" and "Vanilla Sky" long holding the title of my favorite film ever, I may be predisposed to liking nearly anything the so wonderfully music-oriented Cameron Crowe touches. Still, there's no denying "We Bought A Zoo" as the genuine feel-good movie of the year. I say 'genuine' because instead of politically correct schmaltz (which can work, don't get me wrong, hence my positive reaction to "New Year's Eve") this is one of if not the most emotionally heavy "PG" rated films I've seen - to watch it is to be on the verge of tears if not out-and-out sobbing for 2 straight hours. I'll be damned, though, if I didn't have one heck of a bright day after exiting my matinee showing. I believe the same goes for plenty more, as through my day job at a local theater I've seen a share of families leaving, red-eyed and embracing one another.

Hall Pass [Initial Review]
In a year full of surprises, the Farrelly brothers' "Hall Pass" may just be the biggest for yours truly, partly due to the fact that it initially appeared to merely be another post-"Hangover" attempt at cheap raunch. Going in with that mindset readied me to wildly enjoy the hapless exploits (or non-exploits, rather) of these two white, middle class suburbanites so rooted in their seemingly narrow lives that they have no clue how to handle their much-desired "week off from marriage". Beyond that, what really makes "Hall Pass" memorable and meaningful is its brutally honest approach to contemporary monogamy - I'm sure some of the observations of delusion made herein will be relatable to anyone, even one in the most loving, however-many-year-long relationship. In the end, after at least a meager handful of admittedly hit-or-miss gags, the comedy's heart is in a great place, reassuring us in our love lives by reminding us why we sought out that package to begin with.

Hugo [Initial Review]
What's old is new again with this practically gift-wrapped treat from one of the most notorious film buffs of our time, Martin Scorsese. "Hugo" not only emulates beloved silent era cinema on a frequent basis, it provides opportunity to glimpse some of the truly immortal greats of all movie-dom on a big screen while musing over the infinite power of such images and looking all-around lovely itself, its 3D a popularly derided gimmick galvanizing itself in a wider eye the same way its very medium did in the early 20th Century. What's more, Scorsese's natural adaptation to modern 3D provides not only lovely negative space (in my opinion the key area making 3D so worth it when done well) but also the first successful use of positive space.

Red State [Initial Review]
Despite the filmmaker's obvious missteps both professionally and socially, I feel no shame in being a long-time Kevin Smith fan, and am happy to have another title - this time a significant creative departure - to include among others like "Clerks". A bold statement that hits its stride regardless, the point "Red State" really catches on is when it abruptly chucks right and wrong to the incinerator and teases justification of its vile antagonist - a Branch Davidian-esque Christian cult holding hostages for the purpose of demonstrative "cleansing", if you will. Talk about your "oh, shit" moments. Outside this, the fittingly photographed production deftly builds tension throughout while featuring some of Smith's best dialogue in years.

Honorable Mentions
Puss in Boots
The Turin Horse
Take Me Home Tonight
The Muppets
Rampart
Rise of the Planet of the Apes
Immortals
The Ides of March
Moneyball
Contagion

Bottom Ten (from "best" to worst)
Footloose
The Big Bang
Fast Five
Like Crazy
X-Men: First Class
The Help
Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol
Bloodlust Zombies
The Green Hornet
Season of the Witch

View my full 93-item 2011 list and follow me for further updates on MUBI.

Films of particular interest still to be seen (alphabetical)...
Alps
The Artist
Attack the Block
Blackthorn
Carnage
A Dangerous Method
Hail
Le Havre
Life in A Day
Shame
Swirl
Twixt

My Week in Movies: December 31, '11

2011-12-31T11:02:00.003-05:00

We Bought A Zoo
Cameron Crowe, 2011
Crowe, baby. "We Bought A Zoo" is to Cameron Crowe as "The School of Rock" is to Richard Linklater - a little obligatory in its stylings and aims but a truly endearing success in so many ways. Indeed, a younger audience is in mind and certain silly characters or gags could stand to be excised from an artistic stance, but this is perhaps the most emotionally heavy "PG" I've seen - to watch it is to choke back tear-bursts for 2 hours before the final scene, while definitively and powerfully "feel good" in nature, forces even the most hardened among us to crumple in a heap of weep. Our characters, ramshackles in glossy veneers, inspire us to love more directly. In what almost feels an oddity in the modern age, they are not connected to Facebook or attached to iPhones - their endeavors are more explicit and affecting. Their departed wife and mother remains a presence throughout, infallible in her absence as we are not subject to judging her through action, only reverent recollection. Even off-hand comments about her from Matt Damon's character stop you in your tracks. Conflicts with genuine feeling may find you siding with one character or another, but realistically feature valid points on either side, making for some truly rewarding argument sequences. One in particular eventually culminates with a scene (pictured above) appropriately mirroring the "I always liked George" bit in "Vanilla Sky". And hey, Scarlett Johansson actually delivered a worthwhile post-"Lost In Translation" performance! About time (note: as an acquaintance has pointed out, I forgot about "Scoop", in which she is indeed quite good).

Further first-time viewings:

Cave of Forgotten Dreams - Werner Herzog, 2010
In what appears to have become typical Herzog fashion, there are some jaw-gaping moments of sheer wonder here, but moreover the piece is a borefest. The director may have involved himself all too personally in Timothy Treadwell's aftermath, but at least "Grizzly Man" was enjoyable and thematically intriguing. That said, I do wish I had seen "Cave" in the assuredly innovative 3D.

The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn - Steven Spielberg, 2011
Here's another title where I'll have to provide the disclaimer that I did not see the whole thing. But, please don't make me... I've seen the better part of the third act twice now and while, sure, the facial texture/animation is impressive, nothing else appears to be. The script in particular is atrociously rigid.

Total: 3

Rewatches (3): Young Adult x2 (Reitman, 2011), Take Me Home Tonight (Dowse, 2011), The Muppet Christmas Carol (B. Henson, 1992)
-Keep an eye out for a forthcoming "Why I Adore Young Adult" entry.

My Week in Movies: December 24, '11

2011-12-24T00:46:00.004-05:00

A torinói ló (The Turin Horse)
Béla Tarr, 2011
In what I've gathered is par for the course with Tarr, this fascinatingly bleak hell - resoundingly inspired by Nietzsche's death of God - defies traditional critical evaluation, in this case while gazing down the well of life's brutal futility through a father and daughter whose close neighbors are none but the earth's harsh reminders of said futility. It is a portrait of our inability to affect any fragment of grander existence; our enslavement to our own conflicting mortality. The chill bites at your outer ear, the breath your nostrils, the boiled potatoes your assuredly decaying gums. "The Turin Horse" is a triumph in true Béla Tarr fashion, in that while one may wish to pause and rest between each segment, in the end not a frame is to be missed. I'd place it just above "Damnation" amongst the director's other works I've seen, which makes it the best of that admittedly meager bunch. In particular the opening shot and latter three segments (or "days") are phenomenal, and highly recommended for fans of E. Elias Merhige.

The Future
Miranda July, 2011
What a happily melancholy coincidence that this turned out a fitting companion to "The Turin Horse"! The two drastically different pictures take on strikingly similar themes albeit from opposite approaches. While Béla Tarr's final master stroke looks at an isolated 19th Century lifestyle-by-default of droning repetition that hones in on the pointless nature of life despite human persistence, Miranda July's far lighter and indeed very Miranda July-ish piece glimpses a modern state of silently selected stagnation, with elements such as discouragement, lacking confidence and self-consciousness preventing the achievement of various potentials. We wait and we wait and our envisioned future never comes. July's treatment of this contemporary middle class life will feel familiar to anyone willing to let it agree with them as it depicts deepening degrees of human delusion and moreover paints day-to-day events, no matter how inspired or "life-changing", as a living death. The slowest, most painful way to die is one we all suffer from: living.

Further first-time viewings:

The Hangover Part II - Todd Phillips, 2011
It's that moment when the little comedy that could (but wasn't all that great to begin with) becomes a tedious, profit-driven beast of overblown proportion.

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol - Brad Bird, 2011
How does a franchise sink from the benchmark of new millennium blockbuster action (the apparently insurmountable "Mission: Impossible: III", which I reviewed with a warning to ovulating women that Tom Cruise might impregnante them through the screen simply via awesomeness) to an embarrassing betrayal of itself? I don't know, ask the team behind "Ghost Protocol", I guess. Why is this reservoir of refuse enjoying such overwhelmingly positive reactions? Talk about going from "Mission: Impossible" to "Mission: Freaking Insanity". From the very onset to the final moment there is not a single second of worth to be redeemed in this atrociously generic and exceedingly preposterous (while practically mask-less and Ving Rhames-less) picture. Any film encounters innumerable forks in its path to production; I am baffled as to how this one managed to choose the wrong route every single time - technically, creatively, everything-ly. I've been bored before... but this is "Mission: Impossible"! What gives? I expect far superior story execution and scene composition throughout, where here we don't even get as much in the most pivotal scene! Here's an idea: how about when the most important piece of information is being revealed, you don't solely utilize a master shot of apathetic-looking/sounding supporting characters (Jeremy Renner??) standing on opposite sides of the frame. What's even worse, along with being my biggest disappointment since I thought Oliver Stone was giving us a bold 9/11 conspiracy film in 2006, "Protocol" is perhaps the most thoroughly dumb thing I've seen this year (and it takes a lot to top "X-Men: First Class" or "Fast Five" in that regard), to the point that I am utterly flabbergasted and absolutely exhausted from how recklessly stupid it all is. Just for starters... and I borrow the tone of "Burn After Reading" here... the Russians? Really? How dated is your plot when Russians (only "evil" because they're, well, Russian) are trying to access nuclear launch codes? You know what, I won't even get myself started. I'd be up all night reciting the instances of mind-blowing numb-skullery that abound in this tired, abominable-CG-laden wreck that, despite its "Ghost Protocol" title, seems to laughably aspire to "Minority Report" heights gadget-wise. Speaking of tired... what's the deal, Ethan Hunt? Scaled so many cliff faces in your free time you can't clear half your leaps anymore? I can hardly count how many times the now-klutzy Cruise clocks his head or stumbles at critical moments over the course of the excruciating 130-minute+ running time. Time to retire, agent. Take this franchise with you. I say all this as a staunch defender of the first three "M:I" films and a devoted fan of the Cruiser, mind you. And, finally - whose bright idea was it to make "Mission: Impossible" a comedy? Whoever that was can cozy up next to Hunt on the retirement train. Whatever the case, the biggest laugh comes unintentionally at the climax with a line the sheer asininity of which I haven't encountered since "Snakes on a Plane".

Total: 4

Rewatches (4): Young Adult (Reitman, 2011), The Lion King (Allers & Minkoff,1994), The Thin Man (Van Dyke, 1934) The Santa Clause 2 (Lembeck, 2002)

My Week in Movies: December 17, '11

2011-12-17T00:50:00.001-05:00

Young Adult
Jason Reitman, 2011
After a steady qualitative decline over the past half-decade or so, I was ready for Jason Reitman to refresh me with something on par with "Thank You For Smoking". Instead the director has done me several better and gifted the treasure that is "Young Adult", which provided one of those oh-so-rare, distinctly personal experiences (a la "Weather Man", "Punch-Drunk Love", "Vanilla Sky", etcetera) in which I felt the film had been made just for me - obeying what I might wish of it or any project while challenging me, never falling to peeves and generally just "getting" me. From the onset there is so much to this multi-faceted examination of a fascinating character that I imagine with each subsequent viewing I'll come out having honed in on a new theme, whether it be the numbing permeation of reality television, the complexity of what it means to come home, various definitions of success and integrity, or our views of modern society as we know it - is it the way we like to think it is, as we see conveyed through iPhone commercials and Facebook conferences, or is it the actuality - fallen leaves on dillapidated signs and people simply making the best of what they have? And how do any of these ideas and observations affect us as individuals? Diablo Cody's seemingly introspective script has retained the wavemaking writer's characteristic new age wit while maturing beyond the insipidity of "Juno", even once poking fun at that picture's overt dialogic reaches with Buddy's (the multi-talented Patrick Wilson) reaction to Mavis (the pitch-perfect Charlize Theron) calling a triple-hybrid fast food joint a "Ken-Taco Hut". Despite bold and defining creative choices, the supporting characters do remain one-dimensional throughout. This works swell as they mesh and clash with Mavis' world (and, perhaps more importantly, vice versa), but I'm still gradually coming to terms with the third-act narrowing this one-dimensionality generates. It's not what transpires - I see few other ways it could have gone down - it's that all the sociological layers seem to peel away to more superficial quibbles. Maybe that's the point. Either way, I am eager for a rewatch so I might re-experience the film's tailored idiosyncrasies and further galvanize my interpretation of the wind-down.

New Year's Eve
Garry Marshall, 2011
There's just something magical about New York City in the wintertime. This welcome fluff piece with a classic Hollywood feel celebrates the spirited joy of a unique holiday, uniting us as it unites its star-studded cast, which includes many beyond those depicted on the "Mortal Kombat" character select screen-esque poster, including Cary Elwes, John Lithgow, Yeardley Smith, Carla Gugino and Matthew Broderick (portraying a character named Beullerton). I can't say I'd go out of my way for many of the charmingly intertwining stories had they comprised their own respective films, but as vignettes even the lessers engage on some level. I particularly took to the indie stage show-like thread involving a prematurely curmudgeonly Ashton Kutcher and a heartened Lea Michele becoming stuck on an old apartment building elevator, while others involving Sarah Jessica Parker and Abigail Breslin as mother and daughter and Robert De Niro as a man in hospice with one final wish are also of particular note. The weakest link involves Seth Myers and Jessica Biel racing with Til Schweiger and Sarah Paulson to have the first baby of the new year in what becomes a wildly innacurate (though, admittedly, touching in the end) tale featuring one of the worst fake pregnancy bellies I've seen on screen. Though not without its appropriately subtle touches, the screenplay does feel as though a working draft was churned up and never revised prior to production as it features some of the most trite dialogue and blatant exposition this side of "Days of Our Lives", but as should be clear, artistic heights are far from the goal in this case. In the politically correct world of "New Year's Eve" (which oddly features no homosexual or interracial relationships), no one is a bad guy and everyone gets some form of happy ending. Every so often it's a real treat to have a film of that sort, especially when it's as fun as this one, which in its superficial musical crescendos and climaxes did have me welling up at least three times, even once finding a tear rolling down my cheek (hint: during the countdown, a youthful smooch). And... Zac Efron! I'm telling you, the man is our new millennium Gene Kelly. The character he plays here (opposite a frumpy Michelle Pfeiffer) is precisely how I'd imagine "Gene 2000", and I can only hope this becomes embraced and Efron's agents quit making him shy from being "typecast" as "that singing, dancing guy".

Further first-time viewings:

The Change-Up - David Dobkin, 2011
As much as I dislike it, there is one moment in "The Change-Up" writers Jon Lucas and Scott Moore's "The Hangover" that I think of often. We cut to the aftermath of a wedding reception, and while the three men are engaged in buddy talk, Phil's (Bradley Cooper) son is innocently draped, asleep, on his father's reclined chest. It's a stealthily sweet moment that defines the character's relatively docile home life for the remainder of the film's exponentially zany shenanigans, and I feel it's that kind of thing that Lucas and Moore were trying to recapture with much of the inappropriately emotional "Change-Up". Where "Hangover" director Todd Phillips has proven again and again even in his lesser outings that wrangling crazy comedy and core emotion simultaneously is well within the bounds of his work, David Dobkin's fumblings here make detrimentally uneven what was already an ostensibly one-dimensional script. Never once did I suspect I'd find something in the realm of true quality in a rated-"R" body-switching movie starring Jason Bateman and Ryan Reynolds (whose character seems to possess an extra chromosome), but I didn't think I'd find something so wildly inept in every technical aspect it hardly justifies itself as a proper film. "Shanghai Knights" and "Fred Claus" weren't this bad. What gives? For as wearingly drawn out as it all is, it feels so rushed, as if there was only one chance at any given take and only a couple hours of production time a day for maybe a total of a month-long shoot. So it is possible to dislike a film in which a patch of pubic hair is referred to as being "like Sonny Crockett". What's more, while I'd heard reports of computer-generated nipples on a reverse shot of Olivia Wilde to cover up pasties that "accidentally" made it in to the final frame, I did not expect prosthetic breasts on the naturally lovely Leslie Mann. Who thought this was a good idea? My penis felt like it had wandered in to the uncanny valley. At least this is only the second-worst movie this year that features a joke about coprophagia.

Total: 3

My Week in Movies: December 10, '11

2011-12-10T12:03:00.005-05:00

La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In)
Pedro Almodóvar, 2011
In a fashion not entirely dissimilar from that of this year's "Drive", this nearly perfect and truly "out there" film (only my second Almodóvar after being prematurely turned off by the ostensibly lesser "Live Flesh") is familiar in so many ways yet unlike anything you've ever seen. With the absolute precision and design sense of a lite Kubrick, the narrative feel of a stronger Argento, the pacing of Welles, liberated and darkly sexual performances evocative of Pasolini and the chops to stand amongst the greats of the genre it embraces as it languidly unravels, it derives from masters - steals from the best, if you will - to forge its distinct individuality. Charting an exponentially engrossing case of Stockholm and Reverse Stockholm with a deliciously sick twist or five, it is like "A Clockwork Orange" meets "Deep Red" meets "Touch of Evil" meets "The Decameron" meets Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein"; it is "The Skin I Live In". Furthermore, while I can wish it did have the more overt deliberation of something like "The Shining" or "Magnolia", it does navigate its refreshingly scant exposition beautifully with assured reliance on film's truest assets - images! Strong, strong images! There, I believe I've over-excitedly covered a fraction of the reasons "The Skin I Live In" is great.

We Need to Talk About Kevin
Lynne Ramsay, 2011
The relentless opening act of "We Need to Talk About Kevin" threatens to make the whole an insanely strong candidate amongst the very best films of the year. Not in some time have I seen such a lucid narrative flow that rapt me in its turmoil so viscerally. Aiding matters are a surprising undercurrent of biting black humor and Tilda Swinton's bleak performance, so hollowed-out and lost with a single expression you hardly need know the details of her character's unenviable forfeits to feel pained sympathies roiling up inside your guts. Nature and nurture are waging what feels like a war inherently unwinnable for either side - a war as silent as the most muffled scream. What so unfortunately and frustratingly compromises the picture as a whole are the following acts, in which the film becomes something like "The Omen" mixed with "Marley & Me". How many times do we need to see the titular son carry out essentially the same acts with essentially the same results, as if the male characters are records stuck stubbornly on repeat? And are the poorly acted evil glares and unrealistically sinister retorts necessary? Though the harsh beauty of the cinematography remains consistent, when the character of Kevin gains more of a voice to flesh out the established yet mysterious state of his mother's life the proceedings take a nosedive of contrivance and redundancy, never quite recovering.

Further first-time viewings:

Rouge (Red) - Krzysztof Kieślowski, 1994

I suppose reactions like this are either why one might love me or hate me as a critical mind. One could say, "Wow, that Tom guy is unpredictable and really sticks to his guns, whatever those guns may be," or, contrarily, "This hack doesn't understand a good film when he sees one, how can he not at least respect the greatness of one of the most hailed films of the '90s?" Well, my apologies... "Red" bored me stiff. It has clearly influenced a wave of subsequently influential directors such as Tom Tykwer and Jean-Pierre Jeunet (incidentally directors I don't particularly care for), and with its implied strokes of influence might well have become a fleeting highlight of my late youth had I seen it around the same time I saw Tykwer's "Run, Lola, Run" (which I now consider immature but once found eye-opening to a world of cinema I hadn't yet discovered). Never for a moment, however, did it inspire interest from yours truly to the point that I hardly have anything further to say about it. It's not bad, per se, it's just there. It might be taken in to account that possibly intended implications were missed seeing as I for some reason mistook this for the first of the "Three Colors" trilogy and have not yet seen "Blue" or "White".

Total: 3

Chaske Spencer: More Than Wolf, & Tinsel Korey: Scarred Beauty

2011-12-08T14:32:00.001-05:00

Almost through with their time portraying the couple atop the “Twilight” wolf pack, American Indian actors Chaske Spencer - whose smoothly deep voice could stop one heart while making another flutter - and the lovely, passionate and endlessly multi-talented Tinsel Korey are primed to launch further in to an entertainment world widely devoid of representation for their people. More importantly, the similarly minded two are utilizing much of their franchise-bestowed spotlight to not just better their neglected communities but inspire others to do the same through efforts such as their Be the Shift campaign. Both were happy to shed the censors in favor of honest discussion on the rarely publicized issues of substance abuse and poverty on Native reservations, the state of Natives in Hollywood, working with one another and what’s ahead in next year’s final installment in the epic love saga of fangs and fur.

Read the interviews on page 66 of Icon's Winter 2011 issue,

and be sure to check out the fascinating insights that missed the final cut at the Icon blog!

REVIEW: Breaking Dawn - Part 1 (Bill Condon, 2011)

2011-12-08T14:32:00.000-05:00

Now four films in, it's next to impossible for one to reenter the "Twilight" franchise without an accepting understanding of the melodramatic, sometimes goofy fantasy it represents, and naturally this works in the favor of "Breaking Dawn - Part 1". "Eclipse" came as a pleasant surprise, demonstrating what this material can be at its best, and "Breaking Dawn", while not as redefining, carries the torch without regressing to the soapy fan service that plagued the main events of "New Moon".

Read the full review on page 64 of Icon's Winter 2011 issue!

The Lying Game's Allie Gonino

2011-12-08T14:31:00.000-05:00

Saucy and sweet, former Stunners member and multi-talented Allie Gonino has been working her way up through television, having featured primarily on ABC Family’s incarnation of “10 Things I Hate About You” and now as a regularly featured character, Laurel Mercer, on “The Lying Game”, the first season of which recently had ten extra episodes ordered to begin airing Janurary 2nd. Gonino sat down with Icon to discuss her approach, inspiration, why The Stunners are no more and just what’s up her sleeve in regard to further musical pursuits.

Read the interview on page 76 of Icon's Winter 2011 issue!

My Week in Movies: December 3, '11

2011-12-03T11:44:00.001-05:00

Rampart
Oren Moverman, 2011
How are we seen by our peers - from subordinates to our closest, most important companions and dependents, even - despite our defining efforts to be revered as benevolent? Could these peers be hip to our schtick, simply allowing us to continue fooling only ourselves for the sake of maintaining some semblance of peace? "Rampart", its title implying a general look in to city cop mentalities of the 1990s, follows the gradual downward spiral of Woody Harrelson's intimately portrayed renegade, "Date Rape Dave". We enter his headspace, cautious yet eager to latch on to quirks and sentiments. I, for one, felt Dave was my kind of guy when he made a big fuss over some wasted french fries. I can't stand wasting food, either, and seeing food wasted by others also bothers me to the point of verbal expression. Ever so steadily this headspace is contorted by circumstance - much of it preexisting yet finally coming to a head - and for 90+ minutes we live amongst its machinations, residents of the causes and effects of reputation-threatening scandal. The filmmaking is organic to its subject - I could not imagine "Rampart", which handily joins (and probably surpasses) the ranks of "Bad Lieutenant" (and, in a practically alternate sense, "Serpico"), being filmed in a more fitting manner. Speaking genuinely between the lines, the film is Dave, and can become frequently emotionally wrecking sans just about any form of contrived heartstring tugging. By extension Harrelson feels authentic as can be as he disappears in to Dave, surrounded by an impressive collection of talent allowed to exist naturally within their cinematic space including Robin Wright, Cynthia Nixon, Anne Heche and, in a highly impressive turn as an invalid derelict, film co-producer (and probable John McLane, Jr.) Ben Foster.

Total: 1

Skyrim Diaries: A Land Embroiled

2011-12-03T03:21:00.001-05:00

"Skyrim Diaries" is an admittedly self-serving, updated-when-I-feel-like-it (read: when I can pull myself away) chronicling of my own unique experiences within Bethesda's delectably open "Skyrim", beginning from just after midnight, 11.11.11.

Oh yeah, this game has story! Deeply complex and morally challenging story at that, considering all the warring factions. Along with highly enjoying all the side quest lines such as that of the respective holds, the Companions, the College of Winterhold, etcetera (most of which could justify their own separate games), I am rapt in a bitter war over what the land of Skyrim truly stands for. I took some time to select my side, and the side I've chosen certainly isn't honky-dory what with the White-Gold treaty involving the real universal enemy - the Thalmor - from the end of the Great War, but it sure is well-intentioned with what seems to be an open mind for the good of all, where Ulfric and his "Stormcloaks" - while honorable in many ways and initially tempting - are right racist bastards. When any "true Nords" go on about the rights of their heritage and their Talos delusions, I just want to come back with a question about the Falmer, who represent - like how the Dunmer and the plight of African Americans - the plight of the American Indian only at the hands of these Viking-esque "true Nords" as opposed to Euro-settlers. One could even go as far as to say, though it's touchy ground due to the vicious barbarity displayed by the tribes, that the Forsworn are mere victims of circumstance - circumstance brought on by selfish, narrow-minded Nord settlers. I'm certainly inclined to side with those true natives, anyway, after their jailbreak storyline provided me one of the most compelling chapters of the game yet. Of course this is all my interpretation - nothing is spelled out too clearly in this regard, so it's up to the player to choose sides, or decide if Talos is in fact a god, etcetera... even though adhering entirely to certain convictions will most definitely limit the base amount of opportunities available herein.

Along with my first battle - in the hold of Whiterun, which Ulfric was laying meager seige on - I noticed the first awkward glitch I've encountered. In a game this massive it's entirely forgivable for certain things to not quite click 100% of the time, and nothing I've run across yet has been "game breaking", but apparently for this Whiterun battle all the NPCs of the city are called back, whether they be dead or alive. For however many in-game days now, Uthgerd has been laying nude behind a rock in a field, her only memorial being her trusty greatsword's desperately ceremonious mounting on my Solitude manor's basement wall... yet now she is, still very unalterably nude, laying at the foot of the Drunken Huntsman's entrance stairway of all places. People constantly pass her by, commenting on her shameful death at what they believe are the hands of the rebels.

Along with certain reload oddities such as the tap-dancing skeletons of the dragons that attack me on the bridge to the Mage's College (some of whom didn't burn up or allow me to absorb their souls after the death), I've also noticed certain quests that refuse to go away. In one case, the four-pound item Finn's Lute will not leave my inventory upon quest completion, even though the quest giver at the Bard's College claims to be taking it and rewarding me with my every visit (though the actual reward was indeed a one-time thing). I've also recovered not one, not two, not three but four Helms of Winterhold from apparently randomly selected dungeons or chests around Skyrim. I get the impression that story-wise there's only supposed to be one, so the disgraced Jarl of Winterhold should probably hire a new housecarl or something, because the thing gets lost again just days after I've returned it. Then there's the Gaulder amulet quest, the climax of which kept irresolutely locking me in to a room only for me to discover after several reloads that the intended events lock up when you have a companion with you at that juncture. Plenty of other quests have seen glitches that result in my rewards not appearing, my objectives being given out of order or not showing as done upon completion, and in other cases not activating at all, hence why I have not been able - and without the proper patch, will not be able - to finish the Companions line. Very frustrating. And seriously, what happened to my Ghost Blade? Did a bandit sneak in to my manor and steal it? Maybe it was that guy from Windhelm who mispronounces "reagents".

Bethesda recently implemented a PS3 patch to fix things such as shy dragons and tap-dancing dragon skeletons (seriously, I'm constantly being attacked on the bridge to the College of Winterhold, so pre-patch the thing had basically become a graveyard of quivering bones) but I'm half-convinced they screwed up a hundred more things in the process. I don't like focusing on these glitches, but when I'm being prevented from continuing/completing quests or removing them from my journal once they are through, it just reveals all the more how redundant and tedius things can become if this game is played for very long. As illustrated in my initial "diary", I was in awe of the majesty of "Skyrim" and its seemingly infinite openness, though with persisting play it's become clear how formulaic a lot of it is, almost as if the developers either didn't have enough time to create unique experiences for each quest and location (which is not to say they spared any effort working on the intricate storylines) or didn't think players would want to experience various paths.

The reason I latched on to Uthgerd so much was because she was my first real follower (that Sven guy doesn't really count... he was a test run). As previously covered, I met her in a fist-fight and she had my back through thick and thin before being cut down before her time (I'm thoroughly bummed that she, and to a lesser extent another orc woman I freed from her spirit-limiting commitment to her chief only to get her killed in a skirmish between a band of her own kind and some Forsworn ambushers, cannot now join the reformed Blades - in her stead I've outfitted Mjoll the Lioness alongside a male orc in similar confinement to the female and a bubbly chick from the mage's college)... and at that time it was all new. Now, the process of garnering a follower is practically rote. This whole notion could open a massive can of worms that I don't intend to open... in this entry, anyway... I'm planning to work on one about the philosophy of the position such a definitively open game as this puts a player in.

Those battles I mentioned for your side of the war are a definite highlight, though. I've now participated in three, and few things have thrilled in this game as much as holding back a throng of Stormcloaks with a positioned, occasionally bashing shield and precisely selected sword slashes before blazing them all down with a mighty fire-breath thu'um (essentially a magical "shout" in dragon tongue) to see the encounter's enemy percentage drop by ten or so. By the by, along with having power-leveled pickpocketing to 100 (and wasting a perk in the skill's tree in the process) I am indeed using a sword and shield in certain scenarios now, simply in the interest of continuing to level up since I've maxed out my archery. I also keep a lightweight Drainblood Axe (two-handed) around, and may even attempt to level my heavy armor... still all in the interest of leveling, though it is fun to try out the different play styles. I am mostly restricted from anything beyond casual magic use, though, because my build has focused on health with a side of stamina so my magicka pool is so weak I'd need the best gear in the game and all the perks to stand a chance against, say, an ancient dragon.

Other quests I've found myself on have involved crime scene investigation in various holds, subscribing to various Daedra (demons) and carrying out their devious deeds - including the sacrifice of a hapless Nord sellsword in an eerie cult ritual, doing the same to a preist before... eating him... and traveling to an alternate dimension - to receive their typically generous rewards, and in the lines of the aforementioned establishments, basically becoming the leader of everything. From playing Final Fantasy XI for so long I am very familiar with the idea, but it never seemed too odd that I was a hero in three main cities, savior of the land thrice or more over, etcetera, etcetera... it was always on the player's own agenda and although I always tried to focus more on reveling in the game's beautiful communal environment and the thrill of exploring together and making unique friends, as in any MMO it always comes down to how you stack up to the dude standing next to you - have you finished more quests? Do you have better gear? Access to the latest endgame content? In "Skyrim" it feels kind of odd to be annointed the thane of just about every hold I visit, become the arch-mage of a college I have hardly studied in, be on my way to becoming the harbinger of the Companions and, probably, the new leader of the thieves' guild (once I figure out what the heck it is I need to copy the Markarth court mage's falmer inscriptions). Before long I'll be the master of everything. I won't be surprised if once the inevitable moot is held, I'm elected high king. In your typical MMO, these positions are restricted to NPCs only. I'll expand on this, in a sense, in the aforementiond forthcoming entry.

But still with the self-centered stuff... Riften! Markarth! I had been holding off exploring them (as I had Dawnstar and Morthal before almost having to trapse through their respectively quaint districts recently... and I still haven't been to Falkreath, only everywhere around it...) until at certain points all my quest lines seemed to be convening in them. Riften... it represents the dark underbelly of humanity. As a themed location in a video game (with its thieves, brewery scandal, Dark Brotherhood catalyst...), it allows the player to more freely break the law in a land of legal and moral consequence. I'm attempting the thieves' guild line simply for the sake of completism, but many of its tasks leave me feeling disgusted with myself - I'm helping innocents be imprisoned, I'm stealing from my chums over in Whiterun... and even though I'm careful to never get caught, the guards are starting to hate me. I try to think of myself as an Imperial spy in a den of rats - like DiCaprio in "The Departed". As soon as I finish the line, I'll try to take out the other higher-ups of the guild (while attempting to spare the ones whose sob stories have won me over). And this is coming from the person who has pledged devotion to multiple daedra through human sacrifice, betrayal and cannibalism. Well, it's a paradox! I'm not about to say "Nah, I'm not going to press the R1 button and make this gathering of shaded pixels fall over so I can receive your exclusive enhanced armor," am I? I'll just blame it on the voices in my head.

Anyway. Do keep an eye out for that entry I've brought up. I thought of deleting what I had written here and just diving in to it in full, but... well, y'know. And really, no promises about that "upcoming" entry... I'll make my notes about it, but it's up to the time I leave between family, movies and "Skyrim" whether I actually formulate a proper chunk of articulation on the matters. If anything, just know that what I have in mind to say is incredibly mind-blowing. Like, totally.

My Week in Movies: November 26, '11

2011-11-26T13:20:00.002-05:00

Hugo
Martin Scorsese, 2011
In what is nearly the fashion of a grander "Be Kind, Rewind" set amongst the classic cinematic devices of trains and clocks, this holiday season treat begins with Scorsese practically emulating Jean-Pierre Jeunet (and handily trumping with tried tricks that contemporary French filmmaker's deliberate quirk, should that require stating) before becoming a truly magical ode to the, well, true magic of the movies - namely seminal titles such as "Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat", "The Great Train Robbery", "Intolerance", "The Thief of Baghdad", "Metropolis", "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari", "The General", "The Kid" and, particularly, the dreamlike work of Georges Méliès. Seeing clips of these works on the big screen is a wonderful gift from a modern master who hopes we will revere them as he does, and I can but hope this instant classic - sure to be beloved by children of all ages, from nine to ninety, for many a decade to come - will spark an interest in film akin to the spark felt by Méliès himself upon experiencing his first Lumière Brothers picture. "Hugo" takes these now-dusty legends and makes them blockbusters once more. Though the 3D does not seem essential, it does provide the distinctly special air of seeing something new the way so many unversed audiences did when motion pictures began showing publicly over a century ago. If anything, it is clear - even if this winds up being his sole foray in to the extra-dimensional medium - Scorsese has taken naturally to the aesthetic benefits new 3D can supply. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #030.

The Muppets
James Bobin, 2011
It's funny to look up the film formerly known as "The Greatest Muppet Movie Ever Made" to find its official synopsis reading, "The Muppets must reunite to save their old theater from a greedy oil tycoon." As with so many examples, while the events summarized by the synopsis serve as a necessary narrative catalyst, they marginalize what the picture is truly about. A fitting companion release to the similarly reverent "Hugo", which was coincidentally also once known by a longer title, "The Muppets" is exactly what I could have hoped it would be and more coming from the adoring minds of Jason Segel and Nicholas Stoller. Greatest Muppet movie ever made? Maybe one of the greatest fan movies ever made! Utterly delightful from its beginning to an end that couldn't have been prolonged enough, it lives in the realm of the Muppets' signature witticism - dry puns mixed with heartfelt musical numbers, a barely existant fourth wall and a parodical sensibility that relishes both the overt and the subtle, up to the inclusion of a scene in Paris that could be from an alternate dimension "Muppets" as directed by Woody Allen - and reinvigorates the fuzzy crew for fans new and, especially, pre-established. And I, uh... didn't know Mickey Rooney was still alive. That was a nice surprise. Which I suppose I've just spoiled. Uh... look over there! A dragon, a dragon! I swear I saw a dragon! Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #030.

Further first-time viewings:

The Descendants - Alexander Payne, 2011
Outside a superb opening shot that encompasses sheer bliss and isolated finality - along with several more throughout that might feel at home in another of Clooney's latest, "The American" - "Up in the Air 2"... er, I mean, "The Descendants"... is Alexander Payne going through the motions. It's all in place - the beleaguered white male protagonist, the unlikely cast of supporters, the successfully uncomfortable - and, in this case, funereal - wit, yet while at times I'd like to say there's a good film somewhere in the thorough footage, the script, complete with trite narration, stiltedly thrives on issues unrealistically left hovering in midair while catering all too much to its fogey demographic along its path to find the good in everyone. Like in an episode of "Seinfeld", there's an A plot and a B plot that wind up coinciding. Unlike in an episode of "Seinfeld", however, here it's entirely too predictable where it'll all go, and the journey proves hardly worth taking, especially if your alternative is rewatching the framework-providing "About Schmidt".

Total: 3

Skyrim Diaries: Purpose & Allegiance

2011-11-20T00:31:00.001-05:00

My Week in Movies: November 19, '11

2011-11-19T12:08:00.002-05:00

Werckmeister harmóniák (Werckmeister Harmonies)
Béla Tarr, 2000
Trying to write about Tarr without more time to process his work is a bit like leaping headlong in to an abyss. "Werckmeister Harmonies", contrary to the definitive Soviet misery of "Damnation", is timeless and endlessly interpretable, if trying at times when taken in a single sitting. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #028.

Further first-time viewings:

Scared Shrekless - Gary Trousdale & Raman Hui, 2010
Putting its typically grating cleverness to good use, holiday special "Scared Shrekless" (which, even without Cameron Diaz and Eddie Murphy, brings back the main voices that matter the most - Mike Myers' and Antonio Bandaras') plays with genre tropes - relatively subtle and overtly parodic - that any horror buff will giddily appreciate, making it likely the best "Shrek" title I've seen from Dreamworks.

Martha Marcy May Marlene - Sean Durkin, 2011
Endless parallels are drawn between two psychologically blurred (via contoured scene transitions and sound cues) ways of life - one of familiar, convenient excess and immediate concerns from which the parental figures push their infantile young away, and one of communal personal connection and naked human purity within which refugees are embraced and sheltered. Both venues of comfortable misery are frequently shown eating as just one illustration of how they're each focused on preservation and survival, etcetera, only in drastically different ways, and they are captured with occasionally impressive camerawork. Where "Martha Marcy May Marlene" falls apart, however, is at that certain point you realize one of the debating sides is not being given a fair shake - apparently there just has to be a maddeningly bad seed, inexplicably negating the arguable positives of the commune lifestyle and going as far as to render it a Charles Manson-esque "family". At only two hours this insanity feels overlong, with an open ending that is less encouragement to discuss interpretations after the fact and more first-time feature writer/director Sean Durkin seeming to throw his hands up in forfeit after realizing his approach makes no sense. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #029 (coming soon).

Breaking Dawn - Part 1 - Bill Condon, 2011
Now four films in, it's next to impossible for one to reenter the "Twilight" franchise without an accepting understanding of the melodramatic, sometimes goofy fantasy it represents, and naturally this works in the favor of "Breaking Dawn - Part 1". "Eclipse" came as a pleasant surprise, demonstrating what this material can be at its best, and "Breaking Dawn", while not as redefining, carries the torch without regressing to the soapy fan service that plagued the main events of "New Moon". Read the full review on page 64 of Icon's Winter 2011 issue.

Like Crazy - Drake Doremus, 2011
It's "Love Story" meets Sundance plus suck. I felt like the screen was taking a dump in my eyeballs. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #029 (coming soon).

Total: 5

Notes:
- Hey, where be all the movies? I'm not sure. Ask Bethesda.

Skyrim Diaries: Ode to Uthgerd

2011-11-13T20:25:00.002-05:00

"Skyrim Diaries" is an admittedly self-serving, updated-when-I-feel-like-it (read: when I can pull myself away) chronicling of my own unique experiences within Bethesda's delectably open "Skyrim", beginning from just after midnight, 11.11.11.

Let me just get this out of the way: The only other "Elder Scrolls" game I had tried prior to this new one was "Morrowind", which I sucked so hard at that after a few character attempts being brutally slaughtered in dungeon skirmishes or random encounters with forest creatures, I put it down before so much as gaining a level. "Skyrim" looked too gorgeous to pass up, however, and I dove in headfirst with the intention of never once using a strategy guide and simply getting "lost" in its eternally rewarding virtual world - the same way I explored and discovered many of Yellowstone National Park's infinite hidden treasures in my ever-memorable 2006. So far I have traveled where my feet have felt like carrying me - sometimes on impulse, sometimes on determined quest, whether plot-essential or otherwise. The game is lovingly and meticulously developed to the point that it is basically in the gamer's hands to create their own path, and no two will be the same. In theory, one never even really has to pay any mind to the could-be central storyline. But this is all generally what we already know, and I'm only covering it out of a dubious sense of obligation. Now, onward, in to what identifies my journey through "Skyrim".

As I am prone to ramble on about at bittersweet emotional length, my definitive RPG experiences have primarily been with Square Enix' "Final Fantasy" series, "Final Fantasy XI" in particular. In that massively multiplayer second life, my specialty was healing magic while I relaxed with hand-to-hand melee and challenged myself with storm conjuring. With "Skyrim", I decided to simply go with whatever flow I seemed to find fitting, and thus far that has been of a stealthy archer who only seldom dabbles in magic and keeps a gluttonous great axe handy for those occasionally pesky pinches. I am a female Breton, named Kiddoe after my beloved Vana'diel Hume from "FFXI".

With thievish leanings belying my publicly meek demeanor, I tend to swipe whatever strikes my fancy when I'm able, and very few unattended coin purses go unlooted. When it comes to books, I've practically started a makeshift library in a certain Whiterun residence. It was not long before I was caught in a Riverwood farmhouse by a hiding child, however, left with no option but to shamefully murder the manor's resultingly rage-blinded keepers (their child's response, a pouty "I hope you get eaten by a monster!"). This led to the first bounty placed upon my head, the ultimate encounter of which became my first test of partnered combat. After assisting with bard Sven's romantic triangle (and receiving archery lessons from the predicament's victim, regardless) I recruited the lute man only to be immediately set upon by paid assassins.

The bounty hunters were relentless as Sven and I made our sprawlingly obtuse and proudly aim-lite pilgrimage to Whiterun through rivers and over mountains with pitstops at mills, ruins and mini-dungeons. One even appeared to be an entity of fire as she attacked by hurling balls of flame and wound up going down in a literal blaze of glory that left little but ash to scrape treasure from. Once in Whiterun's outlying village, I dealt incessantly with guards - who aimed to jail me but were easily convinced to spare the effort when reminded how low the payout was - before finally paying my own bounty and returning all my remaining pilfered goods. Incidentally, I decided to purchase a horse... a horse that perished upon but a minor leap down a hillside, humorously flinging my body to the wind as I thought, "Well, that's one way to get rid of 1,000 gold."

Taking audience with the Jarl, I garnered amusement in being able to respond to his request for me to retrieve a dungeon's dragonstone with, "Oh, you mean this old thing I've been lugging around since raiding that dungeon back when I was still level one?" A-dungeon diving I still went, though, and it was against poisonous scorpion-like creatures that Sven fell (bravely, I think). I pitied him more than I mourned him, the sap.

On a second visit to Whiterun, I met with badass elf bitch Uthgerd the Unbroken, who wasted little time before calling me out me for a bare-knuckle brawl in the Bannered Mare. Though somewhat more threatening than the one prior fist fight I'd engaged in, the bout was handily conquered by yours truly. And how pleased I was to have - after careful consideration - accepted the challenge, as after being impressed by my one-twos Uthgerd offered her great sword's aid as my new partner.

I quickly took to Uthgerd's bold attitude, which perfectly offset my own. Her loyalty was reassuring, as well, through eager yet mindful expressions and willingness to share a burden. She proved herself time and time again, perhaps most notably at the climax of a quest involving the rescue of a refugee who had allegedly sold out her side of a relatively distant war. I had sympathetically wanted to help the woman escape her could-be captors/killers, but found no choice outside changing my tune once surrounded by bloodthirsty bandits who offered a portion of their target's bounty should I agree to exploiting her trust by leading her to an ambush. Conflicted, Uthgerd and I cooperated, but thankfully the fool bandit leader conducted the vengeful "ambush" by his lonesome, and following the holding up of his end of the corrupt (by my interpretation, anyway) bargain, his marrow became pasty fodder for my flame-enchanted great axe. Unfortunately the catalytic prisoner, now free thanks to my interference, did not appreciate being mislead, and swore to slay me. Still stubbornly determined to leave the woman unharmed, I began to run... but before I knew it, Uthgerd had charged up, crying along the lines of, "I'll never let you get away with that!", and swiftly ran the woman through with her massive steel blade. In a flourish, the woman was lifted - her final vision that of an unforgivingly taunting elf - and tossed to the ground in a worthless heap. Yeah, I really liked this Uthgerd.

After bearing intimate witness to my first "shout" after a holed-up encounter with a dragon, Uthgerd foreshadowed her own untimely death in a nighttime encounter with a suspicious, apparently renegade judiciary squad made up of a condescendingly inhuman leader and mercenary elves in light gold armor. There was little avoiding this initial skirmish, in which I frantically scrambled to land arrows in the foes who relentlessly struck Uthgerd to the ground. On three occasions was the resilient fighter brought to her hands and knees in submission, yet three times did she rise again with boiling fervor.

I remain unsure of that unexpected squad's allegiance, but the next time I spotted similarly armored elves marching o'er a horizon, I went in to sniper mode. While picking off shining targets safely behind a boulder, I failed to notice my companion approaching for a closer look and being spotted, herself. Hearing a desperate "No!!" I swiveled to locate my new favorite friend behind another boulder, trembling beneath four separate axes before cinematically crumpling out of sight upon a brutally synchronized bludgeoning. All that was left to see was a cloud of strong blood bursting from where the cruel - and subsequently fleeing - weapons had landed. I had let down my sworn ally to irreversibly fatal end. Confirming lifelessness, I approached and peered upon Uthgerd the Unbroken's corpse, which lay in uncharacteristic disarray beside the boulder.

Once through clearing the scum from a bandit fortress to focus my mellow funk - a feat I am truly lucky to have pulled off, considering the numbers in which said scum piled out from behind its barricades - I retrieved the goods I had tasked upon Uthgerd from her awkwardly vitality-deprived body, along with her steel armor and trusty great sword. Though uncomfortable leaving the dishonored remains naked upon the plain and painfully slowed by my doubled encumbrance, I performed a doleful march back toward Whiterun.

As though intending to add further guilt to my bereavement, once I reached Whiterun's gates I was held at sword-point by a guard accusing me of high crimes at a new bounty of over 2,000 gold. Thank goodness my clout as the hamlet's newly dubbed Thane cleared my name, but I can only imagine the "crimes" referred to were the murders of the elves who robbed me of a great compatriot - elves who, had I examined them more patiently, would probably have revealed themselves as loyal to Whiterun as opposed to in the pocket of those mightily dubious judges.

I returned what I could of Uthgerd - her armor and weapon - to her residential loft, with the intention of one day repurposing it as a shrine to its courageous bearer in my own domicile. Void of a partner, I bitterly entered Dragonreach to accept the Jarl's bestowment of my very own housecarl - a whiney girl named Lydia, who has a long way to go before she proves herself worthy of taking Uthgerd's place.

The best aspect of "Skyrim" has already turned out to be not its beautiful, vast spaces, but its ability to generate an individual and definitively visceral and ambiguous story for each of us to experience firsthand, in our own ways. This is the beginning of mine. Well, the most memorable portions, anyway. You know I'm squeezing plenty of amulet-recovering, drunkard-enabling mini-quests between the lines.

My Week in Movies: November 12, '11

2011-11-12T10:53:00.004-05:00

Il Decameron
Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1971
Yet a mere dabbler in the realm of Nietzsche, I cannot with galvanization speak on the great philosopher's "death of God" theory (though it has been habit to muse over perspectivism). I do believe, however, that "The Decameron", the light, tempered and often seditiously hilarious first in Pasolini's so-called "Trilogy of Life" as followed by "The Canterbury Tales" and "Arabian Nights", depicts the makings of such a proverbial unconscious killing through its axial battle between varying delusions - of creed and of coitus. Throughout this adaptation of Boccaccio's tales identical in form to that of Chaucer's though fittingly colored more earthily than gaudily as if transpiring prior to a loss of innocence or deflowering, characters quarrel with the balance of pure devotion and carnal pleasure, conflicted as to whether 'tis better to abstain so to prosper in promised afterlife, or to indulge in mortal sin ("sin" herein debunked, no less). This quarrel kaleidoscopes down different lenses of perception in classic literary fashion examining gender roles, toying with Italian historical and cultural cliché and seeing a number of drastic conclusions determined sheerly via beguiled impulse sans thought, until we have a very clear picture indeed - one capped by visions of relegated accountability in Heaven (comparable to those of reckless punishment in Hell from the subsequent "Canterbury", which features many a returning face including the highly photogenic Franco Citti and the nubile Elisabetta Genovese) and a final, general quote I imagine will resonate with me always: "I wonder... why produce a work of art, when it's nice to just dream about it?" Masterful, Pasolini deftly and passionately puts forth yet another essential and elusive work of sociopolitical quandary so aesthetically and narratively riveting it captures me as a spear fisher might a fat trout. Screenshots after the jump.

Immortals
Tarsem Singh, 2011
Through beastly action, man attempts to usurp his gods and independently carve out his own immortal identity. Thus, the blood-soaked sepia of Zack Snyder's brutish "300" sees vast improvements thanks to Tarsem Singh's signature eye and, of all things, the artful iconography of Sergei Parajanov's "The Color of Pomegranates". Rumblingly fueled by an Aristotelian philosophy of brawn and credence to its source mythology, "Immortals" overcomes its tediously exposition-heavy hinging with a relentless series of gorgeous set pieces and highly pleasing composition aided by what is easily the best (and most essential) 3D since "Resident Evil: Afterlife", both texturally and spatially. Exhilarated, you won't want to so much as blink. Plus, Dorff!

Kárhozat (Damnation)

Béla Tarr, 1988
Released several years prior to the collapse of the Soviet Union, the fundamentally visual and aural experience of Béla Tarr's influential, still-occupied Hungary resembles the hollowed-out despair seen in such works as Peter Brosens' eulogy to Mongolian culture in "Khadak" or numerous Aleksandr Sokurov pictures such as "Days of Eclipse". Mazes of empty, weathered buildings diminish the individual, ghostly remnants of wasted hope and corrupted ideals amidst endlessly dampened remains of connecting roadways and electrification that incapably house our resilient characters, who contrarily smack of classic Hollywood. Tarr's deliberate, winding long takes create marvel after marvel of highly screencap-able moving imagery (in the thick of my Pasolini binge, I have to restrain myself!). Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #028 (coming soon).

Brutal Beauty: Tales of the Rose City Rollers
Chip Mabry, 2010
A relatively more extreme example of how we are more ourselves when adopting supported "alter-egos" than when requisitely conforming to the expectations of dull society. This is expression; this is the pursuit of happiness. This (for now, anyway, before realism settles once more) rekindles my embers of motivation to finally join a boxing gym, or finally get those bigger tattoos I've been wanting, or finally drop it all and go rogue documentary-making across the deserts, steppes and cities of Mongolia in search of modern cultural identity. This is, in a technical sense, along the lines of what I could only have hoped my would-be film "Prep Ball" might have become. Bravo.

Further first-time viewings:

J. Edgar - Clint Eastwood, 2011
I will proudly admit to chuckling at my own summary of the Man with No Name’s directorial career. I like to say, “Watching an Eastwood is like chewing cardboard, while someone stands over you, teeth gritted, demanding, ‘Don’t that cardboard taste good, boy?’” Well, if this newest portrait of uncompromising leadership is cardboard, its frail edges are frayed, dry and crumbling away. Yet, somehow, I find myself peeling back these withered layers and uncovering something worth enduring on the whole. Is it an ode to American free enterprise, and subsequently a humble undermining of the very antiheroic legacy of Hollywood (and beyond) Eastwood himself has so iconically contributed to? Is [Eastwood] heralding purity while tearing down the essence of liberty? Is it really to be read as all that objective? Though in recognition of what could be considered psychoses, Eastwood appears to argue in Hoover's favor, even regarding the infamous wiretaps and the resulting collection of high-level politician secrets. Read the full review at Reel Time.

Shrek Forever After - Mike Mitchell, 2010
Whether one likes "Shrek" or not (I don't, particularly), it's easy to admit the titular character became a contradiction of himself as his franchise continued... and it would be apparent from this "final chapter" that the creative team recognized as much, as well. Shrek's frustrations with his adoring fans' enforcement of his defeated attitude echo those of real fans who feel the ogre had gone soft - literally, in the sense that he was almost immediately reduced from ugly and foul-tempered to cute, cuddly and only $19.99 for Christmas, accessories not included. Of course the obligatory end of the characteristically not-quite-full-fledged, overly pop-reference-littered feature justifies the inevitable cuteness, but at least it manages to make us feel fuzzy about it in the process, which is well more positive than I can speak about any aspect of the inexcusably dreadful "Shrek the Third".

Losing Control - Valerie Weiss, 2011
Working the 3rd annual Naples International Film Festival, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting several on-screen and behind-the-scenes filmmakers, among them director Valerie Weiss. Now, being in a smaller festival atmosphere, particularly from a filmmaker perspective, it is practically beside the point to criticize. Everyone is capable of mistakes; we're here to laud achievement and encourage artistry. And that's what makes it so difficult to look somewhat negatively upon Weiss' film - the sole entry I had time enough to dash and catch after a shift - which I selected from a trio of films that weren't exactly at the top of my festival to-see list, per "Dying to Do Letterman" comedian Steve Mazan's recommendation as opposed to my other limited options of "A Beginner's Guide to Endings" and "Take Me Home" (the latter of which also came with a personal recommendation, that one from its star/director Sam Jaeger himself). "Losing Control" is a situational, semi-autobiographical romantic comedy that premiered in April and is scheduled for limited theatrical distribution around Valentine's Day of next year about a Harvard PhD graduate implementing scientific methods in her dating life to determine her perfect mate in a haphazard experiment that winds up entailing a bit of raunch and a bit of caper. It's loaded with budding "that guys" including Ben Weber and Alanna Ubach and features a Woody Allen-esque tone through a lovingly overbearing parental relationship and its talky madcap nature that, at times, conjures feelings of something like "Manhattan Murder Mystery" or "Anything Else". It is indeed honorably inspired and expressive, yet it never becomes anything more than what seems best fit as direct-to-Netflix-Instant fair. The plotting is overscripted to the point of excruciation while so many ideas have been crammed in to one place without meshing together it feels fitting Weiss' next film is to be titled "Overstuffed". Sorry, Valerie! Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #027.

Total: 7

Rewatches (1): Clerks (Smith, 1994)

Don't Listen, Dead Inside ep. 4: Cherokee Rose

2011-11-08T15:24:00.000-05:00

With apologies for an initially broken link to last week's episode (which is now fully functional), television expert Deepayan and Robert Kirkman aficionado Tom (yours truly) are back to discuss the latest episode of "The Walking Dead" with all its technical and creative improvements alongside its numb-skulled plot points, plus the pros and cons of splitting this second season in two!

Listen to the episode at Reel Time!

Reel Time ep. 27: 2011 NIFF; Abbas Kiarostami Spotlight

2011-11-07T13:05:00.000-05:00

Ty, Deepayan and myself take a bite out of Iranian auteur Abbas Kiarostami through his films "Close-Up" (1990) and "Certified Copy" (2010), which ambiguously debate the validity of authenticity and the general nature of art and perception. To open I also delve briefly in to the 3rd annual Naples International Film Festival in which I had the pleasure of meeting a good handful of actors and directors including Sam Jaeger ("Take Me Home", "Scrubs S02E13 - My Philosophy") and Jess Weixler ("The Lie", "Teeth"). I cover my reaction to the lovely Valerie Weiss' "Losing Control" and anticipation of forthcoming distribution for dynamic duo Joke Fincioen and Biagio Messina's fantastic-sounding documentary about cancer-stricken comedian and all-around great guy Steve Mazan, "Dying to Do Letterman" (which you can and should learn more about at dyingtodoletterman.com).

Next week: Béla Tarr!

Listen to the episode at (the soon-to-be-remodeled, newly .commed) Reel Time!

Facebook | Twitter | iTunes

My Week in Movies: November 5, '11

2011-11-05T12:16:00.004-04:00

Puss in Boots
Chris Miller, 2011
¡Holy frijoles! When a studio is so blatantly squeezing scratch from a former cash cow with a spin-off origin story, one would be justified in certain, tempered expectations. Instead of just what you'd expect, however, "Puss in Boots" is everything you'd hope for in such a venture as itself. Toying with cinema legacy like a ball of yarn along the way, it hones in on the only character the "Shrek" flicks are almost worth tolerating for, cleaving with him everything that had potential for goodness in that source series and approaching it with fresh spirit that never takes itself seriously for a second. It's apparent that Chris Miller & Co. love Antonio Banderas' uproarious Puss - essentially a Zorro cari-cat-ure, if you will - as much as we do, and it is that passion fueling the pure-hearted pilferer's stand-alone adventure, creating an embodiment of why the character is so great - the film is his essence, unfiltered. In a sense, this ideal cat lover's fare can be read as parody of "Shrek" - as those ogreish movies so annoyingly do with their every clever wink, Puss thrives hilariously on his cockiness - an aspect of his righteousness which, in this case, is surprisingly allowed to make him weak against more underhandedly cunning adversaries. It's difficult to imagine someone of any kind not having a good time with "Puss in Boots".

Further first-time viewings:

Copie conforme (Certified Copy) - Abbas Kiarostami, 2010

Though I certainly do not dislike Kiarostami's latest, I do observe that disliking it would be against its point of subjectivity vs. objectivity and the ambiguous nature of art - the same points raised by Banksy's "Exit through the Gift Shop" and classic works by the likes of Andy Warhol and Marcel Duchamp. It brings me back, yet again, to the anecdote about the Prado custodian who jokingly hung a bathroom floorplan where a painting should be, only to find a telling swarm of critics bathing it with praise the next day, presumably because it was new and, perhaps most importantly, because they didn't "understand" it. Like a relatively more focused "Before Sunrise", the first half of "Certified Copy", well, copies itself again and again but in different contexts, arguing without need to convince that it all simply comes down to perception (I.E., place a Coca-Cola bottle in a museum...). When things become, almost inevitably, their own little game of perception and false realities, the cool infallibility is lost. Judging from this and "Close-Up" (immediately below), Kiarostami seems to like these compromising games. As his protagonist here states of a painting, it's "Interesting enough, but nothing new. ...There are examples everywhere; at some point you have to close your book." Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #027.

Nema-ye Nazdik (Close-Up) - Abbas Kiarostami, 1990
Is it because reality is boring that all films recognizing their own "fiction" as a cloaked form of reality (since it has very real and potentially deeper affects on participants and audience members alike - as the film puts it, "It's pointless if it's not taped") are, well, so boring? "Apocalypse Now", "Eyes Wide Shut", the forthcoming "Dau" - these are life as film, and vice versa; I need not this C-SPAN-esque game. "Close-Up" is not without its moments, but I'll take "I'm Still Here" over it any day. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #027.

Tower Heist - Brett Ratner, 2011
Seeing Eddie Murphy headlining a rated "R" comedy feels like hopping in a time warp. Only, oh, no, this is a "PG-13" Ben Stiller thing (in which Stiller intermittently flaunts an awkward New York accent) that only happens to co-star a somewhat back-to-form Murphy, who will still need to nail his Oscars gig to fully respark comedic relevance. Apparently, prior to casting a bunch of honkies, "Tower Heist" was conceived as "a black 'Ocean's Eleven'", and those roots do still show in that the heist construction is almost identical to Soderbergh's first Rat Pack reinvention and that the black characters are the only ones semi-worth watching (well, outside the wise, old doorman who so melodramatically imparts, "Truth is, people can open their own doors"... after a catalytic suicide attempt ripped from the recent "Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps", no less). What the film really is, though, is a transparent effort to expound upon current economic events, so definitively tedious you can practically hear each brick clumsily clacking in to place before a climactic and contradictory disregard for human life akin to that of a D.J. Caruso film (or, come to think of it, a Brett Ratner film). Occupy... towers? And/or Alan Alda? At least we get cameos from Robert Downey, Sr. and Zeljko Ivanek. As if that justifies the numbing tedium. I may have forgiven it had Matthew Broderick, when metaphorically dangling a red Ferrari out a high window during the action centerpiece, turned to camera and shrugged, "Not again!"

Saw: The Final Chapter - Kevin Greutert, 2010
Having only seen the pre-Roman numeral "Saw" when "Saw" was still just the little independent horror movie that could as opposed to the relentless Halloween mainstay of the aughts, with nothing but morbid curiosity I come in to the ineptitude of "The Final Chapter" (an oft-implemented title horror for once used in what would appear to be truth) knowingly missing the wagon regarding much of the fan-tailored proceedings. I can't imagine, though, that there's much more to any of this than watching obvious immorality forced to gruesomely dismember itself for the sake of salvation. Judging from this conclusive (yet obligatorily open-ended) piece the series has devolved in to a hasty slapdash collage of "traps", all of which detrimentally lack the cringe-inducing, drawn-out simplicity of the original, which wasn't even quite the cat's bananas to begin with.

Season of the Witch - Dominic Sena, 2011
Is this supposed to be a real movie? All the excitement of spectator larping. Honestly, I was compelled to avert my eyes for much of the runtime. Simply horrendous.

Total: 6

Rewatches (1): The Last Exorcism (Stamm, 2010)
- "The Last Exorcism" improved slightly with a second go. Though its obvious foreshadowing is bothersome, the original approach to the standard science versus religion subject matter that swirls within most exorcism films deftly carries it through. I see via IMDb a "Last Exorcism 2" is slated...

Don't Listen, Dead Inside ep. 3: Save the Last One

2011-11-01T10:03:00.000-04:00

Shades of Robert Kirkman’s comic become slightly more apparent as AMC’s “The Walking Dead” finally begins to show it might have the guts to go where it needs to go… maybe! Deepayan Sengupta and Tom Stoup discuss the latest episode and the possible positives of the show’s notorious budget slashes.

Listen to the episode at the Reel Time blog!

Horrorthon '11 Extro: Exit Wounds

2011-11-01T00:35:00.004-04:00

Another October, another set of reviews. I'm satisfied, though it might have been nice to encounter another surprise or two. This month really snuck up on me - I feel like it was just a few weeks ago I was Kevin Baconing "The Angry Red Planet" to the Three Stooges for the first "All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen" event. Of course it doesn't help that I kept putting off the most interesting-looking films on my radar this season - Andrzej Żuławski's "Diabel" and Phillipe Grandrieux' "Sombre" - in favor of utter dreck like "Bloodlust Zombies". Not that there isn't next October... or, y'know, any of the other 11 months between.

On top of the fully reviewed titles (here listed in descending order of preference) "Red State", "Poltergeist II: The Other Side", "TrollHunter" (viewed twice), "Strangeland", "Pet Sematary" and "Scream 4" (along with another season premiere review of AMC's "The Walking Dead"), I viewed a decent handful of other horror (or at least films that can be justified as such), only that handful (of 10, to be exact) failed to evoke the formulated verbosity seen in, say, the "Strangeland" review where I go all tangential about the misadventures of my 16-year-old self's internet chat room persona.

Collected here for posterity's sake are the "My Week in Movies" capsule reviews for these less reaction-inspiring (for better or for worse) titles, in descending order of... well, you get it by now.

Deep Red - Dario Argento, 1975 (REWATCH)
As if I hadn't noted it on my previous two viewings, "Deep Red" is gorgeous! What a load of good-looking fun.

Poltergeist III - Gary Sherman, 1988 (REWATCH)
Don't mind me... just checking... and... yep, I wasn't crazy in my youth; "Poltergeist III" is actually quite good (or maybe I've just never stopped being crazy... but seriously, I think people are unfair to this third outing just for the fact that its tone deviates from the more overt special effects onslaughts that are its predecessors). The unique, intricately mirrored skyrise setting is a spooky pleasure to wander through for 90+ minutes, guided by human and otherworldly voices incessantly calling, "Carol Anne!" Craig T. Nelson is missed, but Tom Skerritt fills the paternal shoes nicely (not as the same character, of course), and Lara Flynn Boyle... man, her late teens were good to her... she is Hotcakes von Hottenstein without a doubt. It's nice to see the credited call-out for Julian Beck and the dedication to Heather O'Rourke, whose untimely death spurred a reworking of the film's ending, which depicted her as temporarily lifeless (this original ending can be read about and viewed in as much detail as possible via set photos at www.PoltergeistIII.com). Regarding the resulting ambiguous ending for the Scott character, my guess is that the actor simply couldn't make it to the reshoot. We are left to wonder whether the Scott that was ejected from the frozen pool and deposited in his own apartment following a questioning is in fact the real Scott as he seemed to be, or if the evil, cheek-tearing "reflection" is all that made it out.

Paranormal Activity 3 - Henry Joost & Ariel Schulman, 2011 (1ST + REWATCH)
Judging from the first two films (the priorly viewed second of which is mused over several titles below), I determined the best way to view "Paranormal Activity 3" would be, well, drunk. I cruised to the nearest convenience store, snagged two BOGOs of Mike's Harder Lemonade and went to town. Man, was I ever right. This third entry - and second prequel - in the franchise that took down "Saw" feels like the composed best we've yet seen from the growing collection of "home video" "found footage". It is the most rounded and satisfying cinematic experience of the standing trio and offers new forms of tension via panning surveillance and children's impressionable imaginations (along with new, deliciously retro set design). It's like examining the most active paranormal footage any "Ghost Hunter" could hope to find, which is silly fun enough to finally get this naysayer on the side of "Team PA" (and if that wasn't a thing, I just made it one). The biggest advantage the series has going for it is that so little story is divulged in each entry; we hang on every score-free, semi-realist moment in hopes of gleaning the newest plot point in the continual backlog (which, upon some skeptical double-checking, does in fact reference past disturbances in its chronologically later predecessors... though there are plenty of unanswered questions for a fourth entry to take care of). This is the sort of movie you actually want people in your audience screaming over and commenting on throughout. Step aside, "Shaun of the Dead", there's a new horror comedy in town... and, incidentally, only maybe 5% of the theatrical trailer footage is in the knowingly "Poltergeist"-esque final cut.

Tales of Terror - Roger Corman, 1962
In the realm of immediate physical reactions to film, "Morella" runs the gamut - you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cower with heebie-jeebies. The "Cask of the Armontillado" portions of the anthology's second chapter amuse greatly, while its odd amalgam with "The Black Cat" leaves me wishing I'd simply watched a different version of "The Black Cat". Finally, "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar" intrigues the mind and chills the bone. These three breezily accessible and simply effective "Tales of Terror" are a "Pricey" treat for any fan of classic horror and Edgar Allan Poe (is that redundant?).

Paranormal Activity 2 - Tod Williams, 2010
Better than the dully grating original if only because every other scene isn't that girl saying, "We should get out of here!" over and over. I can respect these movies' minimalism, the chimeric authenticity of which generates the feel of inglorious home video... I even found fair entertainment value in this sequel once its third act settled in... but I think my interest in programs like "Ghost Hunters" and "Paranormal State" has disintegrated my potential to truly enjoy them (note: read thoughts on "Paranormal Activity 3" above to see where I was wrong to think as much).

Zombies Anonymous - Marc Fratto, 2006
AKA "Last Rites of the Dead". This entertaining, apparently shoestring outing brings freshness to decaying corpses, becoming almost frustrating when it is considered that all its good ideas were used in such a just-one-level-above-student effort.

Dracula - Tod Browning, 1931
Here's another major point of procrastination checked off. After owning the American version of Universal's 1931 "Dracula" production on VHS for over a decade, I finally popped the palatably iconic rendering of Bram Stoker's story on via the convenience of Netflix Instant. This antediluvian Drac is ultra-clunky and drastically abated, but fun nevertheless. Unessential but for its legacy, one so engrained in popular culture most aren't so much as merely conscious of its source.

Slither - James Gunn, 2006
It's... actually pretty feeble, albeit with some disgustingly fun sexual themes I only wish more had been done with, along similar lines as those of "Species" and, to an extent, "Splice". "Slither" does get by, however, on the fact that it really goes for its own gusto. That's not to say there aren't pulled punches (especially noticeable ones when taking in to account Gunn's more recent "Super"), but it's not exactly the kind of movie you're going to want to look away from for want not to miss whatever insane gross-out stunt is next in store. If anything, Michael Rooker.

Bloodlust Zombies - Dan Lantz, 2011
It's exactly what you'd expect - a probably-fun-to-make technical disaster only one step above being softcore pornography, using a porn star's name on the box cover despite that star only being involved for maybe 10 minutes of total screen time (at least half of which is spent in a goofy sex scene). I think what I'm trying to say here is... great movie, you should watch it!

The Ward - John Carpenter, 2010
The atmosphere of John Carpenter's return to feature length directing after nearly a decade is very, well, Carpentery, but possesses little to reinforce the shallow eeriness of its institutional corridors a la the suburbian Haddonfield streets of "Halloween" or the bowels of the arctic station from "The Thing".

Saw: The Final Chapter - Kevin Greutert, 2010
Having only seen the pre-Roman numeral "Saw" when "Saw" was still just the little independent horror movie that could as opposed to the relentless Halloween mainstay of the aughts, with nothing but morbid curiosity I come in to the ineptitude of "The Final Chapter" (an oft-implemented title horror for once used in what would appear to be truth) knowingly missing the wagon regarding much of the fan-tailored proceedings. I can't imagine, though, that there's much more to any of this than watching obvious immorality forced to gruesomely dismember itself for the sake of salvation. Judging from this conclusive piece the series has devolved in to a hasty slapdash collage of "traps", all of which detrimentally lack the cringe-inducing, drawn-out simplicity of the original, which wasn't even quite the cat's bananas to begin with.

My Week in Movies: October 29, '11

2011-10-29T12:02:00.003-04:00

I racconti di Canterbury (The Canterbury Tales)
Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1972
An uninhibited anthology of familiar themes humorously redressed, Pasolini's selective adaptation of "The Canterbury Tales" - resembling of the center panel in Hieronymus Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights" triptych (and, eventually, the right) - precisely captures Geoffrey Chaucer's delectably muck-slinging vulgarity through rending saliently unethical certain medieval matters traditionally staged with decided regality. Colorful characters populate the vivid landscape with unkempt beards, yellowed fingernails, disarrayed teeth, sweat, dirt and excreta. The poor wear their unchosen grime like a badge as they toil, earning every last scrap of bread before falling under persecution for all they have - their hidden vices - as the wealthy wallow in their filth and profit from said extortion while enjoying similar vices. The latter are justified by their pocket lining yet quiver at sights of one like them executed. The ultimate punishment for these hypocritically righteous blithely purges corruption with still stronger feculence. Nothing is sacred, nor was it ever. Contrary to the later "Salò", here the selfish rich need not underhanded trickery to apprehend their libidos' targets - their right to take whomever they wish however they demand is built in to edict. Neither do they appear capable of philosophical broadening, being instead more impatiently given to impulse, or perhaps simply the exclusive liberty to lust openly. The extent of their profundity lay in their clumsy pick-up lines. Rich and poor blur as one doomed humanity through likened tragic folly. Where the comfortable castle-dwellers are, in time, undone by their own devices, peasants more readily come apart - socially and fatally - in effort to attain greater status, meanwhile putting on airs as simultaneous aggrandizement and defense. From Chaplin-esque slapstick and shamelessly guffawing gluttony to in-references such as Pasolini himself being hilariously, appropriately revealed in the role of Chaucer and a smirking, allegedly historically accurate call-out to the auteur's prior "Trilogy of Life" adaptation, "The Decameron", this "Canterbury Tales" perfectly embodies what the notoriously foul collection might have been were its creator in fact a filmmaker. Screenshots after the jump.

Winnebago Man
Ben Steinbauer, 2009
Many have stories of continued experiences with a certain video of Jack Rebney. Through copied VHS tapes and eventually YouTube, the so-called "World's Angriest Man" has circulated laughter and catharsis for decades, though no one seemed to know where he came from or where he's been. When I first saw the industrial outtake reel in question, I can't say I was too enamored. If anything, I uncomfortably felt the unknown man's frustration with himself in what appeared to be a nowhere gig. Film professor Ben Steinbauer's far more intimate reaction, however, drove him to embark upon this determined shot-in-the-dark documentary, the first half of which plays like a search for Sasquatch while illustrating the allures, causes and effects of what has become a subculture of accidental celebrities made as such through public humiliation on mass scales. At first, though I remained intrigued thanks to Steinbauer's effectively gripping assembly of footage, I worried it was all going to be more or less an extended version of a "Tosh.0" "Web Redemption", and about as enlightening. What the surprising "Winnebago Man" in fact becomes is a fascinating portrait of coming to terms with one's own legacy. Though in a Timothy Treadwell-esque fashion he's isolated himself from while still desiring a platform with what he feels is a dumbing down of society he inadvertently contributed to, in a way Rebney is like a member of the Beatles - a figure with greater aspirations doomed to be remembered for and haunted by but a brief and tumultuous time in his life. Finding and following him through Steinbauer is a real treat - one funny, intimidating and supremely emotional that should resonate with just about anyone.

Der Räuber (The Robber)
Benjamin Heisenberg, 2010
As Rorschach puts it in "Watchmen", a prison's a prison. Whether behind the bars of a cell or the four walls of "free" society, we are confined, all the while reminded by peers and mentors that, in so many words, status quo is the righteous aim. For initially incarcerated protagonist Johann, harmless and eventually remunerative marathon running seems to bring the closest achievable sensation to true freedom, however the man's blank expression ever suggests his bemused outlook. Alternatively, to look in to Johann's eyes during his pop-fueled bank heists is to see a more overt flow of adrenaline, and it is for that adrenaline the heists appear to be primarily conducted, though it is presumable an endgame - freedom via defrauded wealth - is somewhere in mind. Either way, it feels as though he is running, literally and figuratively, in circles; destination: nowhere. When the pure liberation of running meshes with the unsavory rush of robbery, the adrenaline pumps in to the audience as we bite the nails of fingers crossed for our antihero's salvation, be it through flight or rectitude. Graceful New Berlin Schooler Benjamin Heisenberg chooses his words carefully, precisely and almost serenely capturing the thrill of a crime blockbuster with far greater ambiguous depth than is per standard with such things.

Further first-time viewings:

Zombies Anonymous - Marc Fratto, 2006
AKA "Last Rites of the Dead". This entertaining, apparently shoestring outing brings freshness to decaying corpses, becoming almost frustrating when it is considered that all its good ideas were used in such a just-one-level-above-student effort.

Gonzo: The Life & Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson - Alex Gibney, 2008
I have this thing with non-fiction literature... with the right subject and approach I love it for a few chapters, then I get to a point where I impatiently think, "Why can't they just make a movie out of this, already?" Last year this happened when I became fascinated by Toby Thacker's "Joseph Goebbels: Life & Death" only to drop off after having watched Lutz Hachmeister's excellently assembled "The Goebbels Experiment". I haven't read any Thompson, who strikes me as a next generation Kerouac, but while purists may disagree, this loving retrospective feels adequate in quickly acquainting me with the man's work.

Beginners - Mike Mills, 2010
A montage of intimately personal memories that feels more mature than Mills' "Thumbsucker", though I'm not sure it's working for me as well as that prior success' ostensibly aimless angst. It's about the little moments, more than anything - Christopher Plummer's acceptance of a carefully worded death sentence from his doctor; the bonding between father and son via loud exclamations of "fuck!", as though they're learning, or at least celebrating the fact that they can be real people with one another outside their familial roles. Unfortunately the majority of these moments are so nauseatingly cute I want to run the other direction.

Strangeland - John Pieplow, 1998
Indistinct and derivative (particularly of "Silence of the Lambs", even once blatantly thieving that film's famous misdirection sequence), "Strangeland" seems to execute its meager helping of good ideas during its establishment before realizing it has to keep trudging along to attain feature status. Read the full review as part of Horrorthon '11: All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen Part II.

Faces in the Crowd - Julien Magnat, 2011
I feel like I say this all the time, but this movie feels like a Lifetime Network original made with a slightly larger budget. The script, despite a moderately intriguing premise that correlates the rare condition of prosopagnosia (face blindness) to other sensory losses such as deafness, is one gaping hole after another, punctuated by clunky exposition and only held together by my darling Milla Jovovich (whose mere inclusion warrants certain forgiveness), who could put forth this sort of bubbly, emotionally tortured performance in her sleep. It must have been neat for the various "reflection Millas" to come in and get dressed up like her. I might have praise for the fun Julian McMahon, though I'm not sure that's really him behind the re-re-recycled twist giveaway of a Savini-esque face beaver he's sporting.

The Ward - John Carpenter, 2010
The atmosphere of John Carpenter's return to feature length directing after nearly a decade is very, well, Carpentery, but possesses little to reinforce the shallow eeriness of its institutional corridors a la the suburbian Haddonfield streets of "Halloween" or the bowels of the arctic station from "The Thing".

The Rum Diary - Bruce Robinson, 2011
Like watching Clark Gregg’s “Choke” with David Fincher’s “Fight Club” in the back of your mind, “The Rum Diary” is more a dull homage to Terry Gilliam’s “Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas” that happens to also star Johnny Depp. It tidily makes its points and lingers like a bad hangover. At one juncture, in reference to the innocuous pieces he’s forced to print in his doomed paper, Richard Jenkins’ editor-in-chief advises, “There’s a thin veneer between the dream and the reality. You wake the people up, and they’re not gonna be happy.” I want to be woken up. Read the full review.

Total: 10

Rewatches (2): Paranormal Activity 3 (Joost & Schulman, 2011); TrollHunter (Øvredal, 2010)

Notes:
- Wow! Thanks primarily to StumbleUpon (and a little to reddit and a lot to /film) October has blown WTYWtD's prior traffic successes out of the water. As I publish this edition of "My Week in Movies", October currently sits at 37,166 hits - well atop what I had thought was a grand tally of 3,454 for what was formerly my biggest month (this recent August). I've actually earned two whole dollars via AdSense! Of course without a new backlog to semi-spam discovery engines with every month it'll be a long time - if ever - before WTYWtD reaches this level of traffic again but in the meantime I'll keep "stumbling", "digging" (does anyone actually use that site anymore?) and, somewhat more discriminatingly, submitting to reddit ("redditing"?). Major thanks go out again to /film for featuring my "5 Worst Movie Theater Disruptions" on the 300th Edition of Page 2!

REVIEW: The Rum Diary (Bruce Robinson, 2011)

2011-10-28T03:30:00.002-04:00

Why does this movie exist? Is it "Fear & Loathing" for wimps? For the most part I think it's trying to be shocking - and some "Loathing"-isms feel so obligatorily wedged in they can't be intended as anything more - but who will it actually shock? Nuns? The San Juan cultures of heavy drinking, odd hallucinogenics, voodoo and cockfighting are tiredly strung out through breathless exposition, wringing them of any potential intrigue. Of course it doesn't help that simply knowing the proceedings are based upon a Thompson work causes one to go in expecting the would-be wild subject matter. It's a pity, since the more overt message concerns the importance of being more than fluffy filler simply designed to entertain a boring audience, yet fluffy filler is precisely what "The Rum Diary" is.

Read the full review at the Reel Time blog!

Horrorthon '11: Strangeland (John Pieplow, 1998)

2011-10-27T19:51:00.001-04:00

Likely due to my nearly lifelong love of Dee Snider's '80s glam-horror band, when in 2003 I first heard of "Strangeland" - written by and starring Snider - I figured it was made during Twisted Sister's heyday. I was surprised to finally switch it on and find not only a characteristically flavorless '90s aesthetic but also a honing in on late '90s-style internet chat rooms, the horrors of which in the picture's actual release year had yet to be fully extrapolated. Since "Strangeland", we've seen plenty of films such as "Cry_Wolf" and "Trust" about encountering sinister strangers through various, seemingly harmless online networks, though none have captured the allure of such encounters as it was circa 1998, when the internet still felt like a new frontier.

As is hastily depicted (before the underutilized sexiness of Amy Smart briefly shows face), chat rooms have never been a haven for sophisticated conversation. What are now populated by spam bots were once riddled by perpetually repeated "conversational" comments such as "asl" or "type 1 if u like alanis morset". Still, it was instant connection with other people openly desperate to gauge their state of being against consensus and make connections without the pretenses of in-person social activity. I remember answering "23/m/ca" to every inquiry of "asl", because between the ages of 13 and 15 when I partook in the chat scene, 23 felt like a mature yet hip age, I wanted to meet women and California seemed like a place women wanted their men to be from. This invented persona also lived on the third-to-top floor of a modest apartment building and owned two dalmatians to illustrate his unique sensibilities. Besides, what woman in a chat room wouldn't love two dalmations, right? Sometimes I would switch handles and chat with the same person again under a different persona as a sort of social experiment. I did this innocently, but the ease of it shows how simple it is to be taken advantage of in this manner. I don't doubt many of the "women" I chatted with weren't women at all. And maybe the stranger you're instant messaging with right now is in fact an old high school chum looking to dig up dirt.

Unfortunately, "Strangeland" is anything but focused and the first theme to go is that of online anonymity resulting in entrapment. In its place, however, we do glimpse the underground world of extreme body modification, a counterculture wave oddly rare on the silver screen. Off the top of my head, there is a reference to the Mandan origins of O-Kee-Pa suspension in Platinum Dunes' "Amityville Horror" remake and, well, apart from the likes of Ralph Fiennes' tattoo in "Red Dragon", that's it. You'd think we'd have a movie about piercings and/or tattoos coming to life, or at least a Freddy Krueger kill involving as much. Here our killer, pseudonym "Captain Howdy", is driven to achieve enlightenment - or at least subversive sexual gratification - through bringing his body to the limits of pain and alteration. Why, then, is he torturing hapless strangers to death? He's fucking Dee Snider, is that good enough?

Where "Strangeland" really gets bound and gagged, however, is in its tedious approach to heroes and antiheroes. Unlike the great "Texas Chain Saw Massacre", many films - even greats such as "Blacula" - get too caught up in the warranted side of the law, and this is no exception. Am I wrong to be confused when spotlights are shined on the least interesting figures? Highlighting the cop, here father to a Howdy victim, feels like pandering aimed at a demographic outside the target. Howdy and his actions are why we're watching, and make for the film's few genuinely frightening aspects. At least Rob Zombie's successors-in-spirit to "Massacre", "House of 1,000 Corpses" and "The Devil's Rejects", rendered the long arm engaging rather than obligatory.

Furthermore, Howdy's extended storyline is a dubious mess. At first we fear him, a dominant philosopher with a dauntingly shadowed demeanor. Then we pity him as he is harassed and brutalized by cruel yet arguably justified townsfolk, post-apprehension. Afterwards we cheer as he seeks his revenge, though finally we are encouraged to side with his principle adversary the cop - only the second blandest character to be found thanks to his even blander partner - and none of it gels. To look more deeply, one could say "Strangeland" hints at a greater ambiguity (that is, if there can be any in the case of torture) and even allows its would-be protagonist to go out fairly and as he may have pleased, on a note echoing the finale of "Point Break", though I find nothing to suggest these minor observations played part in the intention.

Indistinct and derivative (particularly of "Silence of the Lambs", even once blatantly thieving that film's famous misdirection sequence), "Strangeland" seems to execute its meager helping of good ideas during its establishment before realizing it has to keep trudging along to attain feature status. I would be cautiously optimistic about the long-proposed yet ever uncertain sequel, "Disciple", which would find Howdy mangled as opposed to dead (naturally) and brought by a billionaire to an exclusive body modification cult. Then, reports claim the currently "dead in the water" follow-up would seek Robert Englund to reprise his role as the town's main aggressor (from the mentioned "pity" phase), implying that the originally murky moral compass would also return.

Don't Listen, Dead Inside ep. 2: Bloodletting

2011-10-25T11:41:00.000-04:00

Deepayan and I survive the zombie apocalypse a little longer to review episode 202 of "The Walking Dead", "Bloodletting". Is it an improvement over last week's pessimism-inspiring premiere?

Listen to the episode at the Reel Time blog!

Reel Time ep. 26: PFF20; Joel & Ethan Coen

2011-10-23T23:59:00.001-04:00

Ty, Derin, Deepayan and myself are here to discuss the popular Coen Brothers. Specifically, the recent films "Burn After Reading" and "A Serious Man" provide our portals to a sum-uppance of what makes a Coens film. Derin also weighs in on "Like Crazy", "Shame" and "A Dangerous Method", his recent festival viewings. As an unnecessary side note, for some reason I cannot find my "Burn After Reading" DVD anywhere and you would not believe how long it took me to dig up that screenshot. Schnikes.

Next week: Reel Time takes a week off. Be sure to check out the "Walking Dead" podcast, "Don't Listen, Dead Inside" in its absence!

Listen to the episode at Reel Time!

Facebook | Twitter | iTunes

My Week in Movies: October 22, '11

2011-10-22T13:52:00.008-04:00

Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom)
Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1975
Derived from a work by the Marquis de Sade, the monumental "Salò" likens conscription to wrongful abduction and, likewise, military life to heinous torture. The similarly involuntary, rigidly structured paths share infallible high command from the bourgeoisie, both subject to horrors no average person is intimately familiar with in exchange for prior hopes and beliefs. The difference is in reception - one path is glorified, allowed to become jaded in the face of countless literal deaths in the name of preservation; the other humiliated, forced to suffer and survive infinite false deaths for the sake of entertainment. In this shallow hierarchy we only "earn" the right to humanity through the invented superiority of wealth, the wealthy being the only ones with freedom enough to openly deliberate quandary and express enlightenment ("The limitation of love is that you need an accomplice; ...the libertine's refinement lay in being at once executioner and victim!"). Pasolini's discernibly cold presentations and refined camera placements cart us from shameful arousal in the bowels of depravity through progressively revolting compulsions of sexual abandon, intensifying the ways with which we view our bodies, and our society. It's the anti-eroticism and deprival of will gotten off on by Anne Rice and Eli Roth alike. For as long as I have recognized my passion for cinema, Stanley Kubrick and Paul Thomas Anderson have been the masters by whose work I unconsciously measure all other film. Judging by "Salò", which easily joins Davaa Byambasüren's "The Story of the Weeping Camel" and Peter Brosens' "State of Dogs" (among others, of course) as one of the very best of the best films I've seen this year (or ever), in Pasolini I may have discovered another master to hold in such regard. Screenshots after the jump (NSFW).

Medea
Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1969
We all dream of a day we'll inevitably become rock stars - modern myths, educed from our varying versions of gods - in a world barely imaginable, reliant on growth and change beyond what we persist in being. With this dream we remain lost children, disbelieving we'll ever truly "grow up" as our once-future image matures in to a dull reflection, that fantasy feeling less and less tangible. Pasolini opens his "Medea" with what could be called a deconstruction of one of the great heroes, Jason, who with his Argonauts is presented to be, while handsome, almost as savage as his adversaries. This first half, in appearances inspired by the barbarism of Robert E. Howard's "Conan" tales and akin to the otherworldly landscapes and practices through which a fledgling civilization propagates in Andrzej Żuławski's later "On the Silver Globe", reminds we the aging disenchanted to discover "magic" in the mundane; to travel this strange earth and surrender to existence's wonders - the real "gods". Tribal North African wind and strings evoke both precise beauty and primitive chaos in a naïvely violent harvest ritual and endure throughout, haunting and illuminating. A wavering of creative conviction surfaces once Euripides' narrative takes over, rendering outstanding events nearly tiresome, though this is not to damage the whole of the film, which, cut from the same brilliant cloth as "Salò", offers a gorgeous realm of legend to sit back and revel in. Screenshots after the jump.

Paranormal Activity 3
Henry Joost & Ariel Schulman, 2011
Judging from the first two films (the priorly viewed second of which is mused over several titles below), I determined the best way to view "Paranormal Activity 3" would be, well, drunk. I cruised to the nearest convenience store, snagged two BOGOs of Mike's Harder Lemonade and went to town. Man, was I ever right. This third entry - and second prequel - in the franchise that took down "Saw" feels like the composed best we've yet seen from the growing collection of "home video" "found footage". It is the most rounded and satisfying cinematic experience of the standing trio and offers new forms of tension via panning surveillance and children's impressionable imaginations (along with new, deliciously retro set design). It's like examining the most active paranormal footage any "Ghost Hunter" could hope to find, which is silly fun enough to finally get this naysayer on the side of "Team PA" (and if that wasn't a thing, I just made it one). The biggest advantage the series has going for it is that so little story is divulged in each entry; we hang on every score-free, semi-realist moment in hopes of gleaning the newest plot point in the continual backlog (which, upon some skeptical double-checking, does in fact reference past disturbances in its chronologically later predecessors... though there are plenty of unanswered questions for a fourth entry to take care of). This is the sort of movie you actually want people in your audience screaming over and commenting on throughout. Step aside, "Shaun of the Dead", there's a new horror comedy in town... and, incidentally, only maybe 5% of the theatrical trailer footage is in the knowingly "Poltergeist"-esque final cut.

The Three Musketeers
Paul W.S. Anderson, 2011
It is difficult to admit my relative disappointment with this much-anticipated 3D follow-up on "Resident Evil: Afterlife" from W.S. Anderson, which is not the technical achievement I had hoped for. Thankfully the letdown was easy - no pretenses are held from the get-go, and the somewhat family-friendly flick has fun with how ridiculous it recognizes itself to be. To be sure, this "Pirates of the Caribbean"-esque adventure features more than enough to admire for one as desperate to come out pleased as I. Here we have an Anderson seemingly, uncharacteristically less concerned with visuals in comparison to his norm, perhaps a side effect of predominant "on location" shoots in various German castles as opposed to more controlled studio environments (though this is not to say there aren't some nice corridors and signature W.S. low angles of vast rooms). Instead Anderson is, for once, focusing more in the unwieldy story at hand - in this case one that has seen many an adaptation over the years, only few of which are worthy (my favorite I've seen easily being the 1948 Gene Kelly version). As a cute and jaunty - if cumbersome despite its obvious efforts against as much - take on Alexandre Dumas' notorious tale that features vexingly modern mentalities on celebrity, fashion and the representation of one's wealth while taking a cue or two from "The Princess Bride", "The Three Musketeers" is in fairest form with its tongue firmly planted in its cheek. It falters when blatantly pandering, especially in the case of servant character Planchet, comic relief whose use is aptly compared (in context) to "a fart in a bottle". Not to be discounted are certain performances, primarily the eternally lovely and lovable, leg-flashing Milla Jovovich's of a very giddy and breathy, thereby very Milla-y assassin rendition of Milady de Winter, and a cockily flamboyant Orlando Bloom as the gaudy Duke of Buckingham. Then there's the one-eyed once more Mads Mikkelsen - ever a treat. All builds to the airship battle climax - a grand spectacle the likes of which have rarely been seen since such films as 1961's "Master of the World" - that soars on an inspired score and makes me long for a full-fledged sky pirate picture. As implied, unfortunately little to be found could not have been accomplished without 3D, though I am confident Anderson will wow me once more now that he is back to his more creatively freeing baby with the currently shooting "Resident Evil: Retribution". Speaking of "Resident Evil" (when am I not?), Anderson must love his cliffhanger ending for "Afterlife" - it's shamelessly mimicked, almost beat-for-beat, in "Musketeers"!

Further first-time viewings:

Marvel One-Shot: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Thor's Hammer - Leythum, 2011
Now this is more like it. That is, more like what I was hoping for when I checked out "The Consultant" (reviewed prior to this viewing, all the way down below). The sort of understated panache enjoyed here feels restricted from most Marvel tentpoles, which are confined by enormous spotlights and mass expectation. Yes, ultimately it is silly, but I'll be damned if it's not more worth the while (if an approximately three-minute runtime can be considered a "while") than "Thor" itself, or even the mostly enjoyable "Captain America: The First Avenger".

Holy Blood (Santa sangre) - Alejandro Jodorowsky, 1989
That it feels like a carnival freak show is probably the best compliment I can pay this capably accomplished yet fatiguingly inconsistent work of surrealism (an artistic movement that so rarely sees successful translation to motion picture, am I wrong?).

Paranormal Activity 2 - Tod Williams, 2010
Better than the dully grating original if only because every other scene isn't that girl saying, "We should get out of here!" over and over. I can respect these movies' minimalism, the chimeric authenticity of which generates the feel of inglorious home video... I even found fair entertainment value in this sequel once its third act settled in... but I think my interest in programs like "Ghost Hunters" and "Paranormal State" has disintegrated my potential to truly enjoy them (note: read thoughts on "Paranormal Activity 3" above to see where I was wrong to think as much).

Bloodlust Zombies - Dan Lantz, 2011
It's exactly what you'd expect - a probably-fun-to-make technical disaster only one step above being softcore pornography, using a porn star's name on the box cover despite that star only being involved for maybe 10 minutes of total screen time (at least half of which is spent in a goofy sex scene). I think what I'm trying to say here is... great movie, you should watch it!

A Serious Man - Ethan Coen & Joel Coen, 2009
When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies, don't you want a Coen Brothers movie to love? In my case, I won't be finding as much in "A Serious Man". Positively, a sharp wit courses through the work, running from a perfectly hypocritical quoting of the lyric mentioned (from one of my favorite albums, the oft-utilized "Surrealistic Pillow" by Jefferson Airplane) and instruction in Yiddish class coming across along the lines of the "Peanuts" teacher's plunged trombone drone to the more subtle consultation signatures the Coens seem to love so much - those that typically take place across an important-looking desk that harbors an unimportant-sounding professional who traditionally exposes the greater insignificance of the proceedings (while maybe mentioning Tuckman & Marsh in the process). I suppose overall I don't have many clear negative points to make about "A Serious Man" (I mean, really, who can finite fault a film rooted in Jewish culture that earnestly cracks a nose-job joke?) but for as optimistic as I tried to be about the odd project, the whole thing fell as boring and flat as a latke. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #026.

Footloose - Craig Brewer, 2011
All you really need to know about this new "Footloose" comes from hearing Kenny Loggins' opening anthem shouted over by an obnoxious DJ, as if the '80s hit isn't enough to get the job done on its own. The energetic 1984 film and its ilk, with their shares of iconic sequences, are distinct entities of their time, and simply cannot be remade in different eras. The goals of "Footloose" in the contemporary world are sufficiently accomplished in their demographics by the likes of "Save the Last Dance" and "Step Up". Worse, apart from neoteric dance moves and signature Brewer soundtrack touches that only come across as lame when you know how they first sounded, not much has been done to update this scene-for-scene rendition outside some incoherent one-upsmanship. Think playing chicken with tractors is kiddie fare? Try "Road Warrior"-style bus racing complete with Stahlhelm-sporting opposition! So this is how most people feel when watching Gus Van Sant's "Psycho" (to provide reference, I find Van Sant's work to be, at least, an interesting experiment). At risk of sounding as fogy as John Lithgow's pastor (recreated here as comically as can be expected by Dennis Quaid), the relevance of dance as a free form of personal expression is negated by the styles of dance on display. Protagonist Ren uses the Bible to defend his case against anti-dance legislature, but I'd like him to show me where in the Bible it says, "Thou shalt grind thy anal sphincter against thy strange neighbor's phallus." All this unwarranted retread really accomplishes is a further justification of solving problems with violence (an issue seen in the original, as well) and the frustration of now having to specify versions when referring to "Footloose" (not that such a reference occurs all too often). Why is Andie MacDowell in this?

Marvel One-Shot: The Consultant - Leythum, 2011
Here, after last week's less than rewarding viewings of fan films "Portal: No Escape" and "Dark Resurrection Vol. 0", I was thinking a "Marvel One-Shot" would validate itself as a proper short film expressing certain creativities generally limited within a fanboy-littered world. Now I quote John Pinette when I say, "Nay nay." Comprising nearly half your film of footage from a preexisting feature (in this case, 2008's "The Incredible Hulk") negates this from being considered as a wholly original work, and the remainder plays as a throwaway special feature (which it in fact is... so good on Marvel, I suppose, for not overstating it... too much).

Total: 11

Rewatches (6): Forward March, Time! (Tarasov, 1977); Deep Red (Argento, 1975); Plus Electrification (Aksenchuk, 1972); Dreamcatcher (Kasdan, 2003); Shareholders (Davydov, 1963); Jumanji (Johnston, 1995)
- With each viewing the powerfully and delightfully abstract assault of sound and image that is "Forward March, Time!" becomes easier to comprehend, to the point that I now doubt my initial interpretation does little more than scratch at certain details surrounding the bigger picture.
- As if I hadn't noted it on my previous two viewings, "Deep Red" is gorgeous! What a load of good-looking fun.
- I don't think I realized how long it had actually been since I'd last seen "Dreamcatcher". I remember seeing it in theaters, totally mind-blown by the real reason behind the quarantine. I immediately stopped at a bookstore to devour Stephen King's source novel, I was so enthusiastic about what I'd seen - the unique conceptual approach to a subject I, at that point, was so in to I was practically writing notes for a could-be textbook from all my tireless research. Now, I'm wondering if this isn't my karmic consequence for disliking "Pet Sematary" so much after years of my girlfriend insisting it traumatized her when she saw it in theaters in 1989. "Dreamcatcher" isn't horrible - with some nostalgia value built in for me, the great cast that brings together Thomas Jane, Timothy Olyphant and Jason Lee among others and just an overall sense of Kingy fun, it's easily watchable... but man, just for starters (which is as far as I'll go here), is the acting atrocious, or what? It's as though director Lawrence Kasdan was continually reminding everyone, "Now, now, gentlemen, that's fine and all, but this is a Stephen King movie... per the outcome of his adaptations on average, we have a lack of quality standard to hold up!"

Reel Time ep. 25: Wong Kar-wai

2011-10-17T22:21:00.000-04:00

Ty, Deepayan and myself get in to Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai's films "Chungking Express" (1994) and "In the Mood for Love" (2000), one of which we all love, one of which we are somewhat less enthusiastic about and even outwardly disenchanted with.

Next week: The Coen Brothers!

Listen to the episode at the Reel Time blog!

Facebook | Twitter | iTunes

Don't Listen, Dead Inside ep. 1: What Lies Ahead

2011-10-17T21:53:00.000-04:00

It's here - a "Walking Dead" podcast charting season 2 of AMC’s adaptation of Robert Kirkman’s post-apocalyptic survival epic. Deepayan Sengupta, a contemporary television aficionado, and Tom Stoup, a devotee of the source comic books, discuss the record-shattering program, starting with episode 201, “What Lies Ahead”.

Listen to the episode at the Reel Time blog!

Horrorthon '11: The Walking Dead, Ep. 201 - What Lies Ahead (Gwyneth Horder-Payton, 2011)

2011-10-17T00:13:00.002-04:00

Another year gone "bye" and "The Walking Dead" is now a household title, with little need for prefacing the way I prefaced it in the 2010 Horrorthon's pilot review. As evident in that review, I had been sure from what I had yet seen that AMC's adaptation of Robert Kirkman's epic of survival in an undead post-apocalypse was right on the money. My chronicled optimism remained stubborn throughout the six-episode season's highs and lows, but again... we're another year on, and with distance from the hype I, myself, was a part of thanks to my devotion to the source material I am more ready to recognize seemingly grave misdirection and warily bland unoriginality.

That patient pilot episode didn't take us much of anywhere outside a general scene-setting, but it was never supposed to. Shouldn't we be somewhere by now, though, in the series' seventh episode - the first of its second season? Oh, we've ping-ponged between an overpopulated campsite's would-be safety and the treachery of Atlanta's infested alleyways, and we've huddled inside an unnecessarily informative CDC facility (all little of which has anything to do with our original tale). Yes, we've been places... but we haven't felt a tone that makes this much more than a group of actors wandering over highways and through forests, spouting clichés the whole way. Contrast this meandering against the black & white comic book's bleak and brutal atmosphere in which no one - and I mean absolutely no one - is ever safe from panel to panel, and before the issues went in to double digits we had already seen a prime example of what civilized life in absence of society can become.

Though assisted by the leeway of its relatively sprawling (approximately 65-minute) runtime, "What Lies Ahead" makes fast with episodic fare in favor of cheap suspense rather than more important thematic content. The disinteresting search for a lost little Sophia had me walking away at each commercial break, unconcerned with ensuring timely returns so I might catch every last instant of programming. Meanwhile we're suffer through more typical jargon integration, this time introducing the term "herd". In Kirkman's books, "herd" is coined by our survivors to reference a large group of "walkers", usually ones lured by loud noises (noises television audiences are redundantly reminded to avoid). The very mention of a "herd" evokes deep fear in any loyally impassioned reader. Here, Laurie Holden's Andrea originates the term, immediately following it up with "...or whatever you call it," to which Jon Bernthal's Shane replies, "That sounds about right." Remember in "X-Men" when Hugh Jackman references the semi-ridiculous matching outfits and James Marsden comes back, "What would you prefer, yellow spandex?"

It's strange knowing the drastic narrative departure of a show has an inherently limited lifespan while, at least according to Kirkman's oft-repeated testament, the comic - commenced in 2003 and currently at 89 issues - is indefinite. Given enough time in that near-monthly publication, everyone dies. Lay of the dead land permitting, we readers are looking at the eventual death of Rick Grimes himself with his protagonist slot likely succeeded by Carl (who has been taking a beating lately, in both of his incarnations). With 5 or 6 seasons of television (that's about how long these things tend to last, right?), it's easy to imagine one day looking back and merely thinking, "Remember that little show that tried to adapt 1/100th of 'The Walking Dead', but missed the mark entirely?" Of course, this is a post-"LOST" world, and I'm sure the capable show creators have something in mind (and post-Darabont, maybe it's a whole new something), but the conceptual and stylistic derivation of other popular television is detrimental. Altogether it reminds me why I'm not so hot on American primetime in general - it's 100% soap-operatic story over execution, and I could glean the same experience from simply reading a plot recap the next day. What is admittedly already quite melodramatic on the page - wherein we're at least permitted to incorporate our own respective voices to form individual interpretations - is not translating well to the here more reductively pinning multimedia.

Now, obviously, I'm going in to this sort of thing at a disadvantage. The purpose is apparently to provide a completely new version of a now-familiar story to comic readers and fresh crowds alike, yet like an avid player of Capcom's "Resident Evil" games who can't get over the fact that Leon is nowhere to be found in movie adaptations 1-4, I'm appalled at the lack of inspiration drawn directly from the source. What's more maddening is that the writers are seeming to purposefully toy with that vaguely aforementioned example of decivilized humanity. This occurred at least twice in season one, and "What Lies Ahead" tugs us along that much more, to the point that we're beyond positive this watered-down version of our beloved comic is finally going to sink its teeth in to the dark territory it needs to tear off in order to truly become "The Walking Dead", only to find it chooses an opposite path.

It's difficult to predict a lack of improvement should things eventually head where they need to head (perhaps once we enter the A.D. age, as in "After Darabont"). At the moment, however, an awful, decidedly soulless job is being done with this dull, flat and drawn-out developmental phase. It's possible it could all turn around in a single episode, but for now this comic fan - comparison to the beloved source or no - is left wondering, "What's the point?"

My Week in Movies: October 15, '11

2011-10-15T13:37:00.005-04:00

Ali
Michael Mann, 2001
This candid biographical profile of character, freedom and the power to influence stylistically invokes its entitative subject's popular mantra, "Float like a butterfly; sting like a bee." With some of Mann's most beautiful and poignant combinations of gorgeous digital cinematography in urban America (here contrasted with a third act in Zaire) and evocative contemporary music, the free-flowing yet hard-hitting "Ali" embodies without bottling what makes the insurmountable champ the icon he is and what he represents for the people in worlds of prizefighting, civil rights, and hope in general. As opposed to simply being traditionally inspirational, the film investigates what it is to inspire. Had I seen this within three or four years of its release, when I was that much more in to guzzling its brand of punch, it'd surely have joined my most beloveds alongside the comparable likes of the anti-subtle Oliver Stone's triumphant biopics "Alexander" and "The Doors", each of which I've enjoyed countless times and the former of which remains particularly precious (no discredit to Jim Morrison, of course). And who more appropriate than Mario Van Peebles to portray Brother X? Screenshots after the jump.

Chung hing sam lam (Chungking Express)
Wong Kar-wai, 1994
And here I thought I didn't know what to write about "Melancholia". Not that it and "Chungking Express" are similar at all, just that this time I'm actually not conjuring much to articulate in reaction to the effortlessly lovely, romantically poetic work of mood - the first Wong I can attest to having a wholly positive experience with. And that is what it is - a work of mood, felt more than thought about... that touches on the little, covetable moments in life shared between interchanging couples. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #025 (coming soon). Screenshots after the jump.

My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done
Werner Herzog, 2010
Herzog's uniquely atmospheric and cuttingly comical illustration of psychosis set in a tropically pastel San Diego suburb triumphs over his similar yet dull "Bad Lieutenant" oddity, conjuring a character I believe we can all, in deceptively strange ways, sympathize with, relate to and even admire... outside, y'know, the matricide. With more than five under his belt and counting, Michael Shannon has the corner market on screen crazies, and I, for one, am relieved to see someone in the spotlight unwary of being so clearly typecast. Shannon brings a validity and sense to even the least valid or sensible characters; recognizing his involvement in a project is to be sold on that project. All hail Quaker Oats.

Trolljegeren (TrollHunter)
André Øvredal, 2010

Though failing in its central cloy at realism, "TrollHunter" is easily one of the better examples of a "found footage" film I've seen. It takes even its more preposterous bits seriously enough that rumors of it being parody appear false. If it is parody, it is so subtle it makes a case for all of its ilk to be considered as much of themselves. It may not generate wonder in the fashion of "The Fourth Kind" but with a focus on restrained tension-building and original creatures coupled with the innate pleasure of road-tripping o'er new terrain - in this case Norway's deep forests and snowy mountains - it proves that "found footage" doesn't necessarily require that illusion to be worthwhile. Slap some "troll stink" on the believers and go to town. Read the full review as part of Horrorthon '11: All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen Part II.

Further first-time viewings:

Maelström - Denis Villeneuve, 2000
Fascinatingly icky and delicate, the juxtapositions and correlations of "Maleström" - some quick and cheap, some slow and intricate, all effective in the end - are the stuff "WTF" is made of. "Une très jolie histoire" indeed.

All Good Things - Andrew Jarecki, 2010
Barring an impending rewatch of "The Tree of Life", "Drive" and "Melancholia" currently lead my best-movies-of-the-year list (the top ten of which also includes "The Ides of March", for the moment) so it was about time I got to the highly recommended "All Good Things", starring Ryan Gosling and Kirsten Dunst. It's... equal parts Goslingy and Dunsty, I suppose, while looking decent for much of the runtime. A little patience-trying, it does feel worth having watched, for its between-the-lines plot point execution in particular.

Fā yeuhng nìhn wàh (In the Mood for Love) - Wong Kar-wai, 2000
The camerawork, specifically the precise focus placement and pulling, is often strikingly beautiful but yet again Wong has left me ice cold. Listen to further thoughts on Reel Time #025 (coming soon).

Kill the Irishman - Jonathan Hensleigh, 2011
It's kind of funny that the director of "The Punisher" is working with the star of "Punisher: War Zone", right? I mean, right? Is it at least funny that Ray Stevenson is looking awful Noah Emmerichy? Well, anyway, this ought to appeal to the "Boondock Saints" crowd, for what that's worth.

Portal: No Escape - Dan Trachtenberg, 2011
This shouldn't even count, really. Neither should the next one down. I don't know... I've made some (far less technically adept) fan films, myself, and I still don't even really consider them "films". They're just for fun. Then, while presenting a neat concept toying with physics from a video game I haven't played, "No Escape" misses out on all the "fun". To my understanding, the game features 100% more snide humor as opposed to the here-utilized dead serious, Nolan-esque melodrama flowing heavy in cinematic currents ("Mortal Kombat: Rebirth", anyone?).

Dark Resurrection Vol. 0 - Angelo Licata, 2011
Yes, its special effects (and its everything, I suppose) are technically superior to those of most (if not all) "fan films", even those few that give it a real college try, but there is absolute toss all to justify the time and money spent. It's like giant deleted "Star Wars" prequel scene gone horribly awry, that is if you can imagine such a thing gone even more horribly awry.

Total: 10

Rewatches (4): The Lion King (Allers & Minkoff, 1994), Resident Evil: Afterlife (W.S. Anderson, 2010), Green Lantern (Campbell, 2011) The Polar Bear King (Solum, 1991)
- Seeing "The Lion King" for the first time in so many years was an unexpectedly emotional experience during the more powerful and dialogue-free moments. The nostalgia mixed with the unadulterated Shakespearean melodrama and phenomenal soundtrack make for many a tissue-reach. It surprised me to realize how breakneck the pacing is, too. It's hardly noticeable as it's generally light as a feather, but just think about the character progression - each scene is so dense it gets its job done and then some for its wide "all audiences" demographic, yet it doesn't suffer for this like other Disney ventures such as the meat of the recent "The Princess & the Frog" do. For example, influential stooges Timon and Pumbaa only get a couple scenes before they're thrust in to battle and the credits roll, while the whole time we hardly keep tabs on the primadonna Scar, who only really reappears after his dastardly ascension once climactically confronted. Watching this with my not-quite-2-year-old daughter made it an extra special treat, as during some of the more spectacular moments she'd declare, wide-eyed, "Woah!!"
- In which I write about "Resident Evil: Afterlife" for the umpteenth time: For a while there I had sworn to never watch "Afterlife" in 2D. I broke that vow after finding a 2D-only Blu-Ray copy on sale for $9.99 on top of rationalizing that I'll probably not be capable of in-home 3D until... well, who the heck knows when. It was... an unusual experience. Almost like watching a panned and scanned version of an originally widescreen feature. The landscapes and artillery highlights suffer the most, losing their definitively W.S.-styled punch. My relatively less enthusiastic reaction to this 2D version only further proves to me that I wasn't crazy all the times I rambled on and on about how W.S.'s astounding execution of on-set 3D technology is integral to the "Afterlife" experience. In fact, my reaction this time was much more along the lines of what I had been expecting to feel when I sat down in the early afternoon of last year's September the 10th - it's innocent fun with coolly dressed talented babes running and gunning in admirably captured slow motion, well worthy of being in the same franchise as its predecessors, in this case mainly "Apocalypse". The 2D forces one to focus that much needlessly more on the practically bare bones plotting and the, well, two-dimensionality of it all. Though not as robustly, most action set pieces to continue to stand out - primarily the centerpiece escape sequence involving the explosive rooftop skirmish and the soaking Axeman attack - and do showcase expert utilization of both CG and practical effects, respectively, the former only when necessary when it comes to enhancing the intended third dimension. Due to my previously galvanized and re-galvanized adoration of the film as a technical feat unrivaled by contemporary - or even classic - aesthetic-charged actioners, "Afterlife" in 2D still easily provides a comfy pitstop for yours truly, a die-hard fan of the "Resident Evil" movies and Milla Jovovich, but it's neutered. Incidentally, the Blu-Ray's audio peaks frequently during louder sequences. What's up with that, Sony?
- The questionably extended cut of the much-derided, boldly colorful "Green Lantern" opens with a new sequence set in 1993 when Hal Jordan is but a boy (previously glimpsed solely through sufficiently informative yet still distracting flashbacks). This introduction of characters who will only be reintroduced later clutters with a hackneyed paternal theme that goes nowhere, produced with methods so comically cookie-cutter it's difficult to predict many people not loving it. Then, I actually quite enjoy the rest of the thematically intriguing, rhythmically edited, iconically scored effects display (which, to further prove to myself the validity of my "Resident Evil: Afterlife" 3D vs. 2D observations, loses little when "flattened", and that's keeping in mind that it's the sole post-conversion I've had a positive reaction to), so what do I know. The strongest aspect is still the bond established between Ryan Reynolds' Hal and his dying predecessor, Temuera Morrison's Abin Sur - the entire film hangs on the unspoken words in their eyes, and the actors nail it. And you really prefer "X-Men: First Class", consensus? Man, you sure are silly, consensus.
- "The Polar Bear King" (AKA Kvitebjørn Kong Valemon; AKA Der eisbär konig) is almost like Parajanov's "Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors" (AKA "The Horses of Fire")... only set in Norway and made for children.

Notes:
- Wow! WTYWtD has been featured on /film's 300th Edition of Page 2! The list "The 5 Worst Movie Theater Disruptions" is highlighted four items down on the first page, just below the "Star Wars" characters alphabet and above the "Dr. Who" police box made from balloons. This is my version of Nicolas Cage's final moral from "The Weather Man", isn't it? "That's where I live. Behind Fabian Gonzalez' 'Star Wars' alphabet; okay. But in front of the 'Dr. Who' police box made from balloons. Hello, America."
- In other news, I've been following the newly commenced production of "Resident Evil: Retribution" through Milla Jovovich's Twitter account (as I did last year for "The Three Musketeers"), and although I haven't received any responses on the matter from Milla herself, one of her BFFs tweeted back at me regarding an unrelated topic. That kinda counts, right?

Reel Time ep. 24: The Ides of March; Melancholia

2011-10-10T21:30:00.001-04:00

In what was originally going to be the Udo Kier-- I mean, Lars von Trier episode covering the director's 1991 "Europa" and current release "Melancholia" starring Kirsten Dunst and an all-star ensemble, we decide to postpone the former title for a near-future von Trier spotlight and take a look at George Clooney's new, fourth directorial effort, "The Ides of March" starring Ryan Gosling (and, yeah, an all-star ensemble). Ty hosts Derin, Deepayan and myself in what may be our best-sounding episode yet, as Ty and I finally figured out how to mute our on-board mics (indeed, it was far easier than we had been making it out to be).

Next week: Spotlight on Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai, his films "Chungking Express" and "In the Mood for Love".

Listen to the episode at Reel Time!

Facebook | Twitter | iTunes

Horrorthon '11: Trolljegeren (André Øvredal, 2010)

2011-10-10T12:33:00.003-04:00

The "found footage" fad continues to expand. With titles like "The Blair Witch Project" and "Cloverfield" making major waves, for better or for worse we've seen the likes of "Quarantine", "Paranormal Activity" and "The Last Exorcism" pop up with similar premises involving small, camcorder-carrying and/or security camera-surveilled groups documenting supernatural horrors before never being heard from again due to one climactic tragedy or another. The style typically comes with a greater illusion of authenticity than the traditional third-person composition, creating in more convincing examples a unique fear for audiences, some of whom are certainly tantalized with the wonder of what's real and what's not.

A personal favorite of mine is the Alaska-set 2009 reenactment/"found footage" combination, "The Fourth Kind", starring none other than my darling Milla Jovovich. Jovovich introduces the film as herself (as director Olatunde Osunsanmi himself does epilogically), stating up front that she is dramatically recreating, "Rescue 911"-style, the true events "actually" recorded by her character or the authorities - recordings often shown side-by-side with the "recreations" in distressing comparison. This example's more overt fashion of blurring fiction and reality - which also included false websites registered by Universal Studios to back up character legitimacy through archived newspaper articles, etcetera - went so far it incited a lawsuit from the Alaska Press Club that was eventually settled out of court for $20,000.

Of course the "Fourth Kind" seduction is aided by its subject matter - very believable and credible-sounding cases of alien abduction. André Øvredal's "TrollHunter", charting the reveal of legendary troll existence in Norway - a monstrous subject rarely traversed - through a team of collegiate journalists and a disgruntled employee of the TSS ("Troll Security Service"), is more difficult a pill to swallow to the point that I can hardly imagine anyone taking it as factual for so much as an instant. The title card introduction setting up the finding, editing and professional evaluation of the would-be earth-shattering footage is hokey and transparent, the story progression is clearly scripted, the computer effects characteristically stand out from their practical backings... yet, really, none of this hinders the picture's core entertainment value.

Another rampant fad is the demystification of established lore. As with anything, this can go both ways, and it's all subjective. We've seen contemporary sense made through garlic/crucifix-scoffing vampires and moon-immune werewolves in countless modern horrors/actioners such as the "Blade" and "Underworld" series. These imagined disclosures, to me, are interesting and involving. Contrarily, we've seen superheroes taken down similar roads, keeping it too real to the point of glorified mundanity in Christopher Nolan's influential "Batman" installments.

The demystifications in "TrollHunter" qualitatively fall somewhere in the middle of these, sending up secret anti-environmental government bureaucracies to humorous and poignant effect while dubiously selecting what is and isn't true about Norwegian troll myths. For example, yet again Christianity is highlighted, though in rather an odd, possibly contradictory manner. The trolls here - with hulking presences evocative of "Shadow of the Colossus" - can detect the odor of Christian bodily fluid, rendering atheism a stealth armor of sorts. The altering of blood, sweat, etcetera, caused by Christianity seems to acknowledge the existence of a higher power while simultaneously pointing out the weakness of belief in that alleged existence.

Further "facts" derived from troll legend include genetic and biological details that go as far as to scientifically explain why the beasts only emerge at night and why some explode and others turn to stone when exposed to sunlight. It's all intriguing enough for an hour and a half - and it's all there, troll piss, troll farts, troll... well, unfortunately we don't get dangling troll genitalia - but it never clears the leap from the realm of fantasy. Still, again, this never hurts the fun one stands to find within, particularly as the various details determine the interesting practical tactics the titular hunter employs to regrettably detect, track and dispatch his mystical and endangered prey.

Ultimately, though failing in its central cloy at realism, "TrollHunter" is easily one of the better examples of a "found footage" film I've seen. It takes even its more preposterous bits seriously enough that rumors of it being parody appear false. If it is parody, it is so subtle it makes a case for all of its ilk to be considered as much of themselves. It may not generate wonder in the fashion of "The Fourth Kind" but with a focus on restrained tension-building and original creatures coupled with the innate pleasure of road-tripping o'er new terrain - in this case Norway's deep forests and snowy mountains - it proves that "found footage" doesn't necessarily require that illusion to be worthwhile. Slap some "troll stink" on the believers and go to town.

My Week in Movies: October 8, '11

2011-10-08T11:44:00.008-04:00

Melancholia
Lars von Trier, 2011
I hardly know what to say yet on the matter of Lars von Trier's entrancingly lovely latest. I haven't been able to shake its feeling from within me (as if I'm trying to). For the sake of review I can resort to nitpick and mention that the first few nods to the approaching apocalypse are agitatedly patched on, but this is mere fallback to clearer observation. Thinking generally, "Melancholia" is also surprisingly comedic and features a unique use of jump cuts contrasted with a literally jaw-gaping, occasionally "2001"-esque slow motion sequence that pleases me generously. But how to describe my true reaction to the picture? It leaves me aching for another viewing - the way we ache and obsess over potential end times and, as von Trier forces his characters to do more immediately, ponder what we'd do with the brief remainder of our lives were our world's end imminent. Do these final moments of dust-scraped existence as we know it on our globe epitomize our character? Do they excuse anarchy? Each member of the crucially intimate on-screen party is on a different level of plausible psychosis, regardless of ever-nearing disaster - disaster that, to an extent, can be interpreted as in the mind of the most self-destructively depressive psychotic. If that one wrote an allegory about the planet's undoing to wrestle with her despondency, this is likely the most brilliant piece she could come up with. I guess I can't make fun of Kirsten Dunst anymore. And hey, Charlotte Gainsbourg got to keep her lady bits this time. Listen to further thoughts on episode 24 of Reel Time.

Milyang (Secret Sunshine)
Lee Chang-dong, 2007
Perhaps the greatest element of the cinema is its ability to allow us to vividly experience alternate lives we're otherwise prone to never so much as recognize. When such an allowance is achieved with depth, detail and breathing room it makes for some of the most rewarding individual films. "Secret Sunshine" boxes in none of its subjects, honestly profiling the prohibitively tight-knit community of its title through the eyes of a dreadfully luckless newcomer. Director Lee isn't necessarily looking for the most striking compositions, but rather a perpetually mobile image of this slice of humanity. His reverence for each characters' story is infectious, his dedication to their brutal realism emotionally wrecking.

The Ides of March
George Clooney, 2011
Where "Good Night, and Good Luck." spoke through a resonating Edward R. Murrow on relevant matters of information media, "The Ides of March" looks to expose with drama the inner workings and unreported scandal of political campaigns just in time to enter our minds for the upcoming 2012 United States presidential race. From luxurious hotel rooms with spreads of complimentary refreshments all paid with campaign donations accessible platform concepts are reworked along with more than a helping of backstabbing that never gets old. This is Clooney doing Lumet, and while familiar it works like a charm. Indubitably, on the merits of Clooney’s assured hand and Gosling’s veritable talent (which here reminds me of a young Al Pacino), “Ides” is one of the year’s best. Read the full review and listen to further thoughts on episode 24 of Reel Time.

Europa
Lars von Trier, 1991
At once the aesthetically astonishing "Europa" feels as though a remastered release of a technically and conceptually progressive film from its year of setting - 1945. As otherworldly as its lunar title implies, von Trier's Germany is seen from a train thrust deeper and deeper down a rabbit hole of choose-your-own-adventure arthouse that structurally recalls David Lynch's early masterwork, "Eraserhead". Rear projection and set windows outside which all is obscured by blackness bolster the nebulous aura. Our fittingly sleeper car conducting American protagonist is living a lucid dream, endeavoring to maintain its pleasance, attempting to stalwartly evade a stubborn nightmare of WWII in the time of the Nazi Werwolf. Sadly all this becomes lost once the nightmare takes over, as though we've made a poor selection in our adventure book, with only Max von Sydow's hypnotically commanding narration to intermittently reconcile our involvement. At an hour, the ravish of "Europa" could be one of von Trier's better efforts. At two, it renders itself but a worthwhile experiment. Screenshots after the jump.

Tales of Terror
Roger Corman, 1962
In the realm of immediate physical reactions to film, "Morella" runs the gamut - you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cower with heebie-jeebies. The "Cask of the Armontillado" portions of the anthology's second chapter amuse greatly, while its odd amalgam with "The Black Cat" leaves me wishing I'd simply watched a different version of "The Black Cat". Finally, "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar" intrigues the mind and chills the bone. These three breezily accessible and simply effective "Tales of Terror" are a "Pricey" treat for any fan of classic horror and Edgar Allan Poe (is that redundant?).

Poltergeist II: The Other Side
Brian Gibson, 1986
So that's why Chief really fled the institution. "Poltergeist II" proves to be sheer entertainment from beginning to end with no time to rest between set pieces and satisfyingly practical effects. Not by any means should it go down as any great example of the cinematic medium, but it represents why many of us so enjoy silly horror flicks when they're done with spirit, and it's certainly returned me to the temporary habit of thinking twice before opening my closet, or glancing over my reflection's shoulder at the bathroom sink. Read the full review as part of Horrorthon '11: All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen Part II.

Further first-time viewings:

Conan O'Brien Can't Stop - Rodman Flender, 2011
Don't get me wrong, I'm a long time Conan fan, and for better or for worse I wouldn't go as far as to call the irresolute patchwork of "Can't Stop" anything but a must-see for other fans, but the at least watchable post-debacle documentary offers detrimental little of enlightenment outside performances from the wan, ultimately mediocre "Legally Prohibited from Being Funny on Television" tour and progressively revealing hints that behind all the sarcastic self-deprecation, Conan is actually rather egotistical and selfish. The real story here is about the non-celebrity culture people surrounding an openly annoyed Coco, primarily personal assistant Sona Movsesian.

Pet Sematary - Mary Lambert, 1989
What brings the film down more than anything is Stephen King's screenplay adaptation of his own novel. King struggles to kill his darlings, those being remnants of the literature that clearly weren't translating well to a 100-minute film. Just like the characters of the story who are selfishly kept alive beyond their time, throwaway implications of greater detail and deeper consequence and convoluting plot threads such as Ellie's subconscious premonitions hang around where they shouldn't, only making matters worse than they already are. Read the full review as part of Horrorthon '11: All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen Part II.

The Big Bang - Tony Krantz, 2011
Yet another direct-to-DVD dose of palpable cheapness (in this case, cheapness trying to be quelled by colorful, early '90s-esque lighting) in which a bevy of recognizable faces are merely cashing paychecks. At least we get to see Claire Forlani gyrating in her skivvies.

Scream 4 - Wes Craven, 2011
Some movies are so bad they make me want to vent about their awfulness for days, weeks, months on end. The "Scream" franchise, which carves its reputation solely on the names of past horror icons those involved claim to adore and honor but can't help picking apart, is the kind of bad so exhaustingly stupid I hardly want to continue thinking about it at all. In all its tiresome exposition of exposition, "Scream 4" is saying nothing we couldn't learn by simply looking down a list of mainstream 21st Century horror. Are we meant to point and smile and declare, "Yes, this movie must read the same blogs I do!" upon bitterly uninspired narration on the condition of contemporary scare cinema amidst further blurring of the on-screen world's maddeningly fake "reality"? Read the full review as part of Horrorthon '11: All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen Part II.

Total: 10

Rewatches (6): Boogie Nights (P.T. Anderson, 1997), Poltergeist III (Sherman, 1988), The Long Goodbye (Altman, 1973), Hall Pass (Farrelly & Farrelly, 2011), The Haunted World of El Superbeasto x2 (Zombie, 2009)
- Still one of the best of the best, the greatness of "Boogie Nights" only seems to grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow... cue the montage-capping disco routine, please.
- Don't mind me... just checking... and... yep, I wasn't crazy in my youth; "Poltergeist III" is actually quite good (or maybe I've just never stopped being crazy... but seriously, I think people are unfair to this third outing just for the fact that its tone deviates from the more overt special effects onslaughts that are its predecessors). The unique, intricately mirrored skyrise setting is a spooky pleasure to wander through for 90+ minutes, guided by human and otherworldly voices incessantly calling, "Carol Anne!" Craig T. Nelson is missed, but Tom Skerritt fills the paternal shoes nicely (not as the same character, of course), and Lara Flynn Boyle... man, her late teens were good to her... she is Hotcakes von Hottenstein without a doubt. It's nice to see the credited call-out for Julian Beck and the dedication to Heather O'Rourke, whose untimely death spurred a reworking of the film's ending, which depicted her as temporarily lifeless (this original ending can be read about and viewed in as much detail as possible via set photos at www.PoltergeistIII.com). Regarding the resulting ambiguous ending for the Scott character, my guess is that the actor simply couldn't make it to the reshoot. We are left to wonder whether the Scott that was ejected from the frozen pool and deposited in his own apartment following a questioning is in fact the real Scott as he seemed to be, or if the evil, cheek-tearing "reflection" is all that made it out.
- Sure, "Hall Pass" goes out of its way to be accessible to wide masses and contains product placement to a point of humor ("5 Dollar Foot-Long!")... it even gets a little too uncharacteristically outlandish at times... but these things never hurt its quest to tap in to the modern monogamous male psyche and provide an anti-"Hangover". I love it. And Jason Sudeikis is a puppy dog.
- Because I'm a man of superior taste, I will take [yet another] order of your tasty "Haunted World of El Superbeasto"!

REVIEW: The Ides of March (George Clooney, 2011)

2011-10-07T03:40:00.002-04:00

Where "Good Night, and Good Luck." spoke through a resonating Edward R. Murrow on relevant matters of information media, "The Ides of March" looks to expose with drama the inner workings and unreported scandal of political campaigns just in time to enter our minds for the upcoming 2012 United States presidential race. From luxurious hotel rooms with spreads of complimentary refreshments all paid with campaign donations accessible platform concepts are reworked along with more than a helping of backstabbing that never gets old. Our lead character, a straight-laced prodigy who lives work, all but literally disappearing in to campaigns, becomes a victim of circumstance prescribed a bitter dose of his own medicine and must weigh his options between the converse items you might see glamorized on a television spot - loyalty and betrayal. Our focal candidate is a cathartically candid pipe dream modeled after what one might imagine the idealized version of Obama to be - favoring gay rights, against the death penalty, etcetera. You know, the kind of impossible candidate that just seems to "make sense". The sort Tea Party members will flee auditoriums in disgusted revolt over. This is the perfect candidate to contrast with the depictedly grueling and ruthless business of winning office. This is Clooney doing Lumet, and while familiar it works like a charm. Indubitably, on the merits of Clooney’s assured hand and Gosling’s veritable talent, “Ides” is one of the year’s best.

Read the full review on the new Reel Time blog!

Horrorthon '11: Scream 4 (Wes Craven, 2011)

2011-10-05T12:02:00.003-04:00

Some movies are so bad they make me want to vent about their awfulness for days, weeks, months on end. The "Scream" franchise, which carves its reputation solely on the names of past horror icons those involved claim to adore and honor but can't help picking apart, is the kind of bad so exhaustingly stupid I hardly want to continue thinking about it at all. The infamous "rules" (practically non-existant ones that have been toyed with as far back as "Friday the 13th" and assuredly further) that may have single-handedly defined what was to come in the sequels irk me so - it obviously implies the characters, many of them faux-cinephiles, realize they're being watched in their own horror movie but with the contradictory sense that we are supposed to buy their experiences as "real", all the while insulting true genre masters by placing them in a tight nutshell. Each "Scream" movie is only one hypocritical step away from being parody without wanting to confess as much, "Scream 4" being the worst culprit.

It's all concept over execution, yet again. Not only are forebears from the '60s, '70s and '80s boiled down to plot points as opposed to what really makes them legendary, the film - as is series standard - gets its "meta" points across through blatantly overwrought heaves of dialogue. That sort of thing is fine if it's a Kevin Smith comedy and all there is to do is talk, but "Scream 4", like the others before it, is trying to be a slasher proper in its own right. The characters may as well be talking right in to camera, dramatically winking to ensure the audience is catching on to its hazy, would-be cleverness. No subtlety would be lost.

Appeal-wise, this unwelcome return to Woodsboro - filmed with a bland, true-to-the-'90s absence of visual style to its credit or detriment, depending on your outlook - puts itself in its pre-established fans' corner, even opening with brash attacks on haters such as myself. Yet, with its clear attempt (not that it was trying to be vague) to spark a new trilogy, it fails to give even those fans what they want. As a verbose depiction of the contemporary Hollywood horror climate, we're loaded down with "remake" characters intended to represent what the original "Scream" might play like in a new millennium rendition. Returning cast members go through the anticipated motions, not quite overshadowed but certainly sifting through a questionable mess that's difficult to care about in any form. Though it may have been panned as generic, for my money this flick would be better off providing pure, innocent fanservice with recognizable faces and zany twists. Anything in the realm of "trying" is just embarrassing, in this case.

Worst of all, in all its tiresome exposition of exposition, "Scream 4" is saying nothing we couldn't learn by simply looking down a list of mainstream 21st Century horror. Are we meant to point and smile and declare, "Yes, this movie must read the same blogs I do!" upon bitterly uninspired narration on the condition of contemporary scare cinema amidst further blurring of the on-screen world's maddeningly fake "reality"? If something spells out for you why it is so lame, does it really stop being lame just because you're nodding in agreement?

It may not be saying much to call "Insidious" one of the better horrors of recent years, but I can at least thank its wide release date for quashing the potential "Scream" seemed to have for another two self-righteous installments much the way the same director's "Paranormal Activity" quashed "Saw 8" (and even then, "Saw 7" apparently had the sense to recognize its death knell and go shamelessly all-out in the fanservice department).

There. I'm done with "Scream" - watching it, talking about it, writing about it - hopefully for good.

Horrorthon '11: Poltergeist II: The Other Side (Brian Gibson, 1986)

2011-10-05T02:32:00.001-04:00

So that's why Chief really fled the institution.

One of the highest - and most obvious - compliments one can pay a horror film is to say it persisted as a catalyst of fright beyond its viewing. This is something I can now say about each "Poltergeist" film, as after finally bridging the gap between multiple outings with both the 1982 original from Tobe Hooper and Steven Spielberg and the much-derided '88 threequel I can confess to being vividly reminded of those afraid-of-the-dark jitters I was so familiar with as a child. Long hallways, mirrors, shower curtains, etcetera... let's keep 'em on an as-needed basis for a few days, 'kay? Thanks.

I suppose I have an odd relationship with the "Poltergeist" trilogy, since, contrary to popular opinion, I find the original to be void of substance beyond the scares. Oh, the scares are extraordinary and enduring, to be sure (can't sleep, clowns will eat me, for real), but where I often think it would be interesting to create a film based solely on horrific vignettes that occur within a haunted house involving little in the way of rhyme and reason, whenever I find something brushing on that territory I realize I desire more solid grounding and the '82 film is absolutely an example of this. What's more, despite its heinous lack of Craig T. Nelson I've always found a certain charm in "Poltergeist III" - the deep, mirrored and sepulchral skyrise setting, the chillingly seductive interactions between a Lovecraftian "other side" and the eerily adorable, immortally young Heather O'Rourke, that neon puddle a supple Lara Flynn Boyle complete with timely hair teases is unforgivingly tossed to - it works nicely for me as an unexpected and spooky diversion.

"Poltergeist II" proves to be sheer entertainment from beginning to end with no time to rest between set pieces and satisfyingly practical effects. Even in their refuge the returning cast is relentlessly bombarded by tricky, demonic presences through always-unsettling electrical fiddling, manipulation of physical objects (the toys are back), the trusty act of possession and, finally, gruesome manifestation. All the while they are tracked by a church song singing spectre - Henry Kane, portrayed by the skeletal Julian Beck who perished prior to the film's release.

There's not much more to say than that "Poltergeist II" is, quite simply, a load of fun through and through. Not by any means should it go down as any great example of the cinematic medium, but it represents why many of us so enjoy silly horror flicks when they're done with spirit, and it's certainly returned me to the temporary habit of thinking twice before opening my closet, or glancing over my reflection's shoulder at the bathroom sink.

Horrorthon '11: Pet Sematary (Mary Lambert, 1989)

2011-10-03T21:00:00.000-04:00

"But he's not God's cat; he's my cat. Let God get his own cat if he wants one!" This dialogue, spoken by the now-blazing Blaze Berdahl as a worried little Ellie, is likely the most chilling moment of the already antique "Pet Sematary". The central family (last name Creed, all too fittingly) lives with Christian teachings as infallibilities, and the young child's excusable selfishness regarding the life of another begins a series of similar instances resulting in greater and greater transgressions against their God's plan - challenges of both devoutness and a basal ability to cope with loss.

"Sematary" hits all the notes you could want - or, at least, expect - from a run-of-the-mill late 20th Century horror. That is to say, it is just as ham-handed and blind to detail as any number of its contemporaries in the scream business. Along with an overly deliberate tone and knack for some of the more extreme exclamations of "Nooooooo!" you're apt to hear, our lead character - a decidedly uninteresting follower - might just be the worst doctor ever, seeing as when a recently deceased patient of his reanimates before his eyes alone without immediate explanation he just sits there watching, not so much as buzzing for a nurse. This is but one example of the hilariously MST3K-able scenes, another of which features a drawling Fred Gwynne matter-of-factly stating as condolence for a dead cat - named, what else, Church, - "At least it doesn't look like he suffered," when the feline victim had obviously dragged itself from the middle of the road to the lawn on which it painfully perished.

What brings the film down more than anything is Stephen King's screenplay adaptation of his own novel. King struggles to kill his darlings, those being remnants of the literature that clearly weren't translating well to a 100-minute film. Just like the characters of the story who are selfishly kept alive beyond their time, throwaway implications of greater detail and deeper consequence and convoluting plot threads such as Ellie's subconscious premonitions hang around where they shouldn't, only making matters worse than they already are. Incidentally, the script seems to have been altered plenty on the path to production. Much of King's dialogue, presumably cleaved from its source pages, has been further dumbed to the point of becoming near parody of cinematic genericness - the sort lead actor Dale Midkiff (from countless television movies, go figure) is seasoned at working his theatrics around.

One of the reasons horror tends to merely be the little genre that could (but often doesn't) may be because it so often attempts to render more obviously scary subject matter that isn't. The theme of keeping alive what is meant to be dead for one's own reasons - subsequently creating the excess of the upsetting of a divine plan and the perverting of the demeanor of your once-lost loved one - might carry with it material worthy of a great horror entry with the understanding that "horror" does not necessarily mean "scary". The way "Sematary" is constantly reminding us we're watching a horror film by reveling in irrelevantly eerie background music and resorting to blatantly predictable, would-be jump frights cheapens it. A wise and creative director can make any subject haunting, but one cannot simply go through the motions just because one is under the King banner, particularly considering that "King" only very rarely equals "good movie".

To be fair, the film does build fair first act tension with its giant tank trucks that carelessly zoom in close proximity to the family's home, keeping fleeting mortality close at mind, and features at least two genuinely creepy moments centered on an exaggeratively depicted spinal meningitis patient who moves in unexpected fashions... only to break the mood with goofy witch cackles. Furthermore, the idea of the cemetery itself being a dark, hidden nook with quietly mystical powers does alight upon occasionally effective horror territory, yet again this is soiled by goofy effects and ridiculous histrionics.

"Pet Sematary" is far from the worst thing you'll ever see, but when I say it's a laugh, I don't mean it as a compliment, per se. If anything, it'll give you a better appreciation of a certain "South Park" episode and have you trying on a blindly persuasive Fred Gwynne impersonation for hours. "Uh-yeah... it's your cat, now, Louis. Sometimes dead is better."

Reel Time ep. 23: Robert Altman; 50/50

2011-10-03T18:41:00.000-04:00

It's a Reel Time episode... and it happens every week... ♪

Ty hosts Deepayan and myself as we attempt to nutshell Robert Altman's career through his 1973 Raymond Chandler adaptation "The Long Goodbye" (Elliot Gould, Sterling Hayden) and his 2001 Oscar contender "Gosford Park" (Clive Owen, Helen Mirren, Michael Gambon, Tom Hollander, Ryan Phillipe, Emily Watson). As Ty points out, it is difficult to capture the essence of Altman in a mere hour while only discussing two of the man's many films, but I do ramble a bunch so perhaps that helps attain the proper vibe. We wrap up by covering new cancer comedy "50/50".

Next week: Spotlight on "persona non grata" Lars von Trier, including his new picture, "Melancholia"!

Listen to the episode at Reel Time!

Facebook | Twitter | iTunes

♫ ...Hooray for Hollywood!

My Week in Movies: October 1, '11

2011-10-01T14:50:00.005-04:00

Gosford Park
Robert Altman, 2001
The early 20th Century clash of upper and lower social classes is perfect fodder for an Altman picture, and "Gosford Park" plays like an interactive murder mystery dinner theater in which we are characters, too, wandering about a grand estate twixt "upstairs" and "downstairs" party members - none of whom seem to actually be enjoying themselves as opposed to simply going through the motions - gathering passing information as we can to help eventually determine who did it in the study with the candlestick. The perseverance to maintain a hierarchy humorously interferes with the proper mystery solving, though many seem to have valid motives and no detail is spared. Our minds are drawn to certain characters of the massive cast in particular, with the scant time afforded to each beneficial in keeping these individuals provocatively mysterious. So, yeah, that "Gosford Park"? Mighty good stuff, to say the least. Listen to further thoughts on episode 23 of Reel Time.

Irma Vep
Olivier Assayas, 1996
A real filmlover's treat, this dreamily long take-loaded piece feels like the most probing behind-the-scenes documentary ever made. The storied production's blatant fiction lends much to the illusion of authenticity surrounding all else, bringing greater intrigue to sequences of dissident character research, relationships formed around a crew's varying reactions to - including the compulsory pedestalization of - a controlled performer in insulated proximity, and comparisons and correlations between so-called intellectually elitist pictures and artlessly pedestrian explosion fests. A courageous honesty comes from lead Maggie Cheung's portrayal of none other than herself, made central subject to all the mentioned corollaries to cinema stardom.

Red State
Kevin Smith, 2011
Rattling to the point that your core will quiver, your sweat will pour and chills will run over your goosebumps' goosebumps, particularly when it appears to be heading down an unquestionably startling path that threatens unflinchingly to alter its entire playing field. Honestly, while the epilogical path instead taken is sensibly smooth, befitting of the film's platform and cathartically rewarding through a punctuative exclamation, it is of considerable disappointment the originally scripted finale was not realized - or at the very least alluded to sans a rational "dumb luck" explanation - as it is so alarmingly built up to. All told, "Red State" is Kevin Smith's excellent return to form; or, more felicitously, his return to deserved artistic prolificity via a whole new form. Read the full review as part of Horrorthon '11: All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen Part II.

Meek's Cutoff
Kelly Reichardt, 2010
Examinations of isolated peoples living off the land with heedless determination in alluringly enlightening contrast to my own life of granted convenience often make for some of the most fascinating filmic experiences, and the establishing stretch of the thoroughly gorgeous spectre that is "Meek's Cutoff" is not much different. Simply looking on from Reichardt's effective spectator vantage is both beautiful and haunting as the characters - only recognizable as actors in costumes as opposed to genuine westward caravaners due to their familiar faces - cross streams, endure thirst, moreover navigating and disappearing in to unforgivingly alien and ominously ghostly landscapes so gorgeous and illuminating they're practically magical. In this illimitable, rarely rivaled capacity the film is far and away at its best, even if it doesn't match the nearly indescribable introspective male aura of Reichardt's prior "Old Joy". As the story grows more detailed, also does it create a defined cone through which we view the proceedings, making plotted less of what could be abstractly more, but our desert travel meditation remains uninterrupted until its consummately sensible conclusion. Screenshots after the jump.

The American
Anton Corbijn, 2010
Many, maybe most prominently Robert McKee (look no further than the rewatch segment below to determine why his name is fresh on my mind), assuredly declare that so long as you provide "an ending that keeps people talking", you're all set. "The American" goes to show that, sometimes, the same holds true for beginnings. Without its frameless opening sequence, the film would feel like staring at a wall for 100 minutes, albeit a wall adorned with a fair helping of pretty pictures. That wonderfully snow-covered sequence educates us to be on edge about every passerby, to keep a sharp eye around every corner... and that no friendly acquaintances are even remotely safe - an island our cold-as-ice main character must try to remain, with every word from his mouth and every glance from his eyes carefully selected and critical to both job competence and survival. That said, the film can be somewhat of a frustrating experience as before long we realize it's heading toward the predicted resolution with its only subtext seeming to be, "At least this is better than "Control", right?" Still, the standard story manages to thoroughly engage on a sheer entertainment level thanks to Corbijn's unique approach.

Observe & Report
Jody Hill, 2009
The best mainstream mall comedy since "Mallrats"? Should I add more qualifiers? Either way, those who insist "Observe & Report" is a mis-marketed stroke of darkness unfairly cast off by the popular film community are absolutely correct. I was never quite sure whether to chuckle or simply be horrified by the disturbing portrait of arrested delusion in the vein of but certainly superior to writer/director Jody Hill's 2006 debut, "The Foot Fist Way". Honestly, the picture - while painting a bitterly relatable idea of contemporary shopping complex culture - is somewhat of a structural mess, but this is watchably glossed over by its rhythmic maneuvering via score and soundtrack, the latter being predominantly of under-heard Queen. Though the (backhanded) compliment doesn't say much, considering, the lead role here may well be the qualitative pinnacle of Seth Rogen's career to date, outside the lisping actor's recent voice work on "Paul".

Further first-time viewings:

Pina - Wim Wenders, 2011
Inexplicably at first, six truckloads of tender soil are spilled on a stage and smoothed into a perfect square. Darkness blankets the venue before sets of dancers fade in to the beginnings of "The Rite of Spring". What grandly unfolds is, per my discernment, a wordless and electrifying display of primal man's early steps toward the development of civilization - sex, dominance, survival - not at all unlike the pagan ritual from Stravinsky's original vision. As we, the audience, creep in closer we become aware of sweat pouring down the torsos of the performers who audibly heave for breath between bursts of aggressively rhythmic energy. The masochism of a life in dance is explicitly bared. Natural imperfection, crude emotion and physical catharsis are proudly exhibited in time with the melodramatically striking ballet score. But this is only the first 14 minutes of a hundred minute-long feature. What could be a more rewarding experience for those of us unfamiliar with the work of expressionist choreographer Pina Bausch is awkwardly chopped, its distinctly documentarian aspects proving rocky as they abruptly fade in and out of otherwise captivatingly free-flowing sequences. I imagine the intended 3D presentation aided immersion in to the collage of interpretive vignettes staged in factories and indoor swimming pools, on cliff tops and bustling metropolitan street corners - dance, if dance were trying and failing to mimic a minimalist Samuel Beckett play - but transplanting these personal tributes outside the theater seems to accomplish very little apart from occasionally lovely mise-en-scène.

Dracula - Tod Browning, 1931
Here's another major point of procrastination checked off. After owning the American version of Universal's 1931 "Dracula" production on VHS for over a decade, I finally popped the palatably iconic rendering of Bram Stoker's story on via the convenience of Netflix (I can pretty much drop the clarifying "Instant" now, eh?). This antediluvian Drac is ultra-clunky and drastically abated, but fun nevertheless. Unessential but for its legacy, one so engrained in popular culture most aren't so much as merely conscious of its source.

50/50 - Jonathan Levine, 2011
"Knocked Up" gets more emotional and swaps pregnancy for cancer, complete with Seth Rogen secretly reading guidebooks because, though you wouldn't guess it from his boorishly insensitive behavior, he's a good guy, folks! A la 2007's "The Savages" for those who care for Alzheimer's patients, "50/50" will probably work okay for those who are unfortunate enough to be able to relate to the plot, whether directly or peripherally, namely writer Will Reiser, for whom the film is autobiographical. On the level of accessibly laying out for an audience unfamiliar what it's like to spend a chapter of your life knowing you could be - for no blamable reason - on your last legs, it is wholly ineffective, due in large part to the fact that Joseph Gordon-Levitt's protagonist is more or less introduced to us as "cancer patient guy", leaving us little chance to witness the changes the affliction causes in who he is. "50/50" does manage to find some (mostly tongue-in-cheek, character-based) humor within unexpected travesty, and while even in its stretches of sex and relationship focus it hardly neglects that travesty, it ultimately plays as an unoriginal striking of all the standard tearjerker chords. Well, hey, Anjelica Huston is characteristically good in her small role, we get to hear Philip Baker Hall awkwardly belting Alan Arkin-esque curses and, look over there, it's the guy who played Moloch in "Watchmen". And I wonder... will Bryce Dallas Howard someday be known for playing characters who aren't disingenuous bitches? Listen to further thoughts on episode 23 of Reel Time.

Something Borrowed - Luke Greenfield, 2011
As legitimately cute as it is fun to ridicule, even if it is frustratingly rooted in repetitious self-sabotage that sprawlingly concludes in a series of betrayals - some predictable, some plain lazy and nonsensical - against its own competent character development. After years of anticipating a follow-up to the surprisingly good "The Girl Next Door", it's strange to see Greenfield finally put something out that's so unambitious (in spite of the man's visible touches that do elevate it). Colin Egglesfield is like William Shatner figuring his way around a performance through a taller version of Tom Cruise's body.

Slither - James Gunn, 2006
It's... actually pretty feeble, albeit with some disgustingly fun sexual themes I only wish more had been done with, along similar lines as those of "Species" and, to an extent, "Splice". "Slither" does get by, however, on the fact that it really goes for its own gusto. That's not to say there aren't pulled punches (especially noticeable ones when taking in to account Gunn's more recent "Super"), but it's not exactly the kind of movie you're going to want to look away from for want not to miss whatever insane gross-out stunt is next in store. If anything, Michael Rooker.

Whiteout - Dominic Sena, 2009
I might have enjoyed this Beckinsanity bait (in which Kate is infamously made to introduce her character by needlessly undressing and showering) when I was 13 or 14, thinking highly of myself for finding a "grown up movie" entertaining. As some form of a "grown up", I can declare "Whiteout" a very boring procedure through a murder mystery marked only by its arctic setting that's impossible to care about beyond being another opportunity to ogle one of the most stunning of the few women I've ever watched abysmal-looking movies solely for.

Everything Must Go - Dan Rush, 2010
If the idea is to fall flat, is "it falls flat" still a valid complaint?

Machete - Robert Rodriguez, 2010
Where Rodriguez' "Planet Terror" is a failed mimicking of the general 1970s exploitation aesthetic under a contemporarily more gratuitous mentality primarily due to the conspicuously modern technology at work (I.E. digital cameras, digital effects and lame-o celluloid distress filters), "Machete" seems to take all that along with the even worse stance that grindhouse can be emulated simply through lazily creating the most boring and masturbatory kitchen sink ugliness possible. Watching this and "Punisher: War Zone" within a week of one another made me weary of even hearing the word "action" in relation to film.

Total: 14

Rewatches (4): Drive (Refn, 2011), Red State (Smith, 2011), Dazed & Confused (Linklater, 1993), Adaptation (Jonze, 2002)
- "Drive" was even better the second time around for all the reasons a second viewing of a great film should be. An easy upgrade past "Midnight in Paris" for the yet undecided top spot on my 2011 favorites list. Based on a forthcoming rewatch of "The Tree of Life" (and, of course, first views of all the other films I've yet to see), it may well wind up my champ.
- Netflix' upload of "Dazed & Confused" is hideous compared to the DVD transfer I'm accustomed to. Maybe the murkier look lends something to the already illusory period authenticity (which, in spite of so many recognizable faces who were mere babies in 1976, always makes me think the film came from the '70s). Also only just noticed that the song Milla Jovovich sings briefly during the moon tower party is her own "The Alien Song (for Those Who Listen)" from her most excellent album "The Divine Comedy". So, wow, I guess Slater-san is actually right when he humorously rambles on (as he is wont to do) about the song being about aliens, man.
- Each time I watch "Adaptation" I am more and more impressed with its layered genius. How to describe it concisely? You're watching a movie about the writer writing the movie you're watching, which in turn is indeed about him trying to write the movie. Lines like "The screenplay kinda makes fun of me, doesn't it?" and "Who's gonna play me?" pull double duty in a unique humor department. Upon my very first viewing I thought it all kind of crumbled in act three only to realize soon after how perfectly the influence of Donald - brilliant writer Charlie Kaufman's fictional extension of his own insecurities - plays in to the climactic proceedings. My only real nitpick is one I often declare - come on, movie makers, we don't need constant reminders of "Three years later" or whatever. We... or, most of us, anyway... are smarter than to require that.

FILM: Scream Until You're Hoarse (2010)

2011-10-01T07:12:00.005-04:00

I may as well get to putting this up, if only for the sake of posterity (and for feeling like at least something was accomplished through all our effort). As was left unchronicled in the production updates (linked below), the post-production on "Scream Until You're Hoarse" became detrimentally shaky (lack of funding, the ever-dreaded creative differences, etcetera) to the point that for utterly unalterable reasons the project had to be abandoned, leaving us with what you see here - the rough cut.

This cut is essentially the result of digital dailies - a piece put together to showcase for the actors immediately once principle photography wrapped. There are no special effects (thereby an entire character is missing and another only delivers half her performance, subsequently depriving crucial visual and verbal plot elements), none of Andrew Edwards' music is present and many scenes and shots have been left out as they were only captured via DV that hadn't been uploaded at the time. You'll see shots at normal speed and direction that were intended to be sped up and reversed. You'll see equipment in reflections and much more that was planned for the meticulous magic of rotoscoping. You'll see much more and much less.

Hopefully amidst the clunkfest something once-salvageable is apparent from a third party vantage. Let me tell you, nights watching this footage after uploading it from a day of shooting were some of the most exhilarating times I've had - we were proud of what we had done!

Viewing password: WTYWTD

Read about the making of this footage (the also-incomplete behind-the-scenes featurette of which is in unfortunately un-shareable form) in these production journal entries, which include crediting of performers and personnel involved:
Early Conceptions Etcetera
Pre-Pro Turbulence
Full Gallop Ahead
Last Few Bricks
Bloodshot Eye of the Storm
Teaser Trailer
Kickstart Me Up!
See Our Ad in Icon Magazine!

First Impressions: Alice Cooper's "Welcome 2 My Nightmare"

2011-09-30T10:41:00.002-04:00

Though a long time classic rock lover and devotee of subsequent shock acts KISS and Rob Zombie, I'm not quite as legitimate an Alice expert as I'd like to be - that credit goes, in spades, to my buddy David Jones - but I am, nevertheless, a big fan gratefully familiar with the band/solo act's history and plenty of albums (primarily the earlier stuff, a la "Pretties for You" and "Killer"), all the hits (of course) and even the legendary Coop's exciting and informative radio show "Nights with Alice Cooper" out of Phoenix, Arizona which I first heard on 96.7 The Wolf with Grand Canyon gateway town Williams "under my wheels" on my way back across country in early 2009.

Anyway, I'm taking a page out of college chum Jason Hubsch's virtual book (reviews and more of which can be read at JSin Online) and casually blurbing, track by track, my first listen of Cooper's new "Welcome 2 My Nightmare" - technically another solo album but featuring members of the original Alice Cooper lineup (plus many more). And... here I go sparing no further time.

I Am Made of You
An unexpectedly soft - and, what's this, autotuned? - intro that makes me tingle with anticipation for what face-melting may lay ahead. And really, the autotuning doesn't bother me here - not in the least. Like Ke$ha, who will of course show up later, Alice is using the technology creatively as opposed to as a crutch, and fresh off a second theatrical viewing of Nicolas Winding Refn's "Drive", which features the hauntingly electronic vocals of "Nightcall" by Kavinsky & Lovefoxxx over its fantabulous opening credits, I am loving the execution here, which becomes accompanied by a sailing guitar solo (also, wow, "fantabulous" is apparently recognized by spell-check). According to Wikipedia, which I will occasionally refer to for factoids throughout this listen-through, Alice compares this track to his 1973 hit, "Hello, Hooray". I see it. Or, hear it, rather. So is this a tribute to the fans? Whatever the case, I'm digging it big time, crossing my fingers no modern distractions interrupt the mood.

Caffeine
...Or maybe that interruption will come from the second track? "Caffeine" isn't super bad; it is actually rather humorous in that good ol' Alice way... but after said tingling from the preludial "I Am Made of You" I was hoping for a better payoff. So this is now a single? A seemingly odd choice. I'm not vomiting on myself or anything, but I'll probably uncheck this track from iTunes so it doesn't play by default in the future (hark, impurity!). I suppose the concept does ultimately inform a fear of sleeping - the very act that is about to get us in a heap of tempting trouble - but it feels like throwaway filler.

The Nightmare Returns
Excellent, not only is this one's piano evocative of melodramatic horror, it carries over from "I Am Made of You". Concept! We're still in the introduction phase, aren't we? Loving the slow build carried on by this brief segue track. Er... I've already forgotten about "Caffeine", apparently.

A Runaway Train
Ha, I always get a sick kick out of songs - the ilk of which are nary heard anymore - that put a jovial tone to unfortunate and twisted scenarios. Crash. The nightmare begins.

Last Man on Earth
Each song thus far has featured a distinct sound. The story is being told as much through the lyrics as it is through the varying musical approaches. Wikipedia tells me this tune is similar to "Some Folks" from 1975's original "Welcome to My Nightmare". Perhaps I'd agree, had I thought to remind myself what that album was like prior to this undertaking. I have no excuses.

The Congregation
Here it is. Rob Zombie featured on an Alice Cooper track. The Gruesome Twosome! Zombie is portraying "The Guide", a character formerly voiced by none other than Vincent Price. "The Congregation" feels more like the Cooper sound so many fans have come to expect, and a sound of this sort is welcome at this point, six tracks in to a daringly deviant effort. The notion of narrative and characterization via music continues as Zombie's brief portion - not your typical gruff Zombie singing, as I probably should have expected - brings with it a more overtly daunting guitar. Outside that, I'm definitely jiving with the carnivalesque playfulness of all this - our main character is probably clawing his face off in fright while his could-be torturers simply taunt and mock to ostensibly cheery sounds.

I'll Bite Your Face Off
A much more deserving single selection! Great, classic and sexy Coop-style lyrics ("She pushed me down on a burning bed/Thought I was in heaven, but instead/She turned her head and she softly said/I’ll bite your face off!") along with what Wikipedia accurately describes as a Rolling Stones-inspired sound that indeed reminds me of some of that iconic group's more energetic and popular songs such as "Jumping Jack Flash". And this bridge - it sounds like "Esther" by Phish. Huh!

Disco Bloodbath Boogie Fever
Alice Cooper just said "bling" and "playa". Don't worry, though, it's hilarious. Disco? Try mosh!

Ghouls Gone Wild
We're touring the nightmare's various venues, and this one sounds strikingly like the rockabilly, much-covered "Summertime Blues" by Eddie Cochran. This album goes everywhere! I want to see these ghouls!

Something to Remember Me By
A relatively soft, bittersweet ballad, and one of the best tracks yet. This is the kind of tune that will keep me coming back for more and more of the nightmare. Is Alice disappearing deeper, taking a last opportunity to call out to his consciously earthbound loved ones with knowledge he won't return... or, at least, not as the same person?

When Hell Comes Home
After the welcomely geared-down interlude of that previous track, this sinister lick speaks to true nightmares with little hint of levity. Alice is perverting the ideals lamented in "Something to Remember Me By", and it works.

What Baby Wants
Now this one I've actually heard a couple times before - I just couldn't resist sniffing out a collaboration between two of my favorite artists, the Coop and none other than the contemporary, self-parodic proof that pop isn't entirely crap, Ke$ha. And to think this was originally to be a teaming of Coop and Christopher Lee (who was unavailable due to the recording of not just his own death metal/opera album about Charlemagne, but the sequel to his own death metal/opera album about Charlemagne)! "What Baby Wants" is one of the catchier tracks on "Welcome 2 My Nightmare". The relationship between our protagonist and the temptress Devil is just as characteristically sexy and intimidating as any of Ke$ha's more alluring solo efforts.

I Gotta Get Outta Here
Open-ended conclusions are the best kind, are they not? Are we awake, or are we dead? "I Gotta Get Outta Here" actually reminds me of a "Weird" Al Yankovic tune. That's not necessarily a bad thing; not at all... and it does become laugh-out-loud funny.

The Underture
The opening, paired with "When Hell Comes Home" being fresh on the noggin, recalls Rob Zombie's "Bring Her Down (to Crippletown)" from "The Sinister Urge". Depending on your interpretation of the prior track's events, this fittingly titled "Underture" wordlessly, dramatically takes Alice to the next chapter - breakthrough, revelation, acceptance, triumphant rebirth, beyond.

Under the Bed
Listed as a bonus track, "Under the Bed" functions perfectly as an epilogue to our cyclical story and another great reason to let "Welcome 2 My Nightmare" start over from "I Am Made of You" immediately (which I'll eagerly be doing in just a moment here). Cooper hasn't lost it. I guess those who purchased the album from iTunes got the bonus track "A Bad Situation". I'll have to hunt it down, maybe edit it in.

Poison (Live at Download Festival)
The real bonus, this live version of solo Cooper classic "Poison" is a treat. It brings a fresh, if not too impressively captured audio-wise, tone to the tune, and hearing the audience singing along plays as an enthusiastic tribute to Alice's legacy, mirroring what I'm viewing as this album's introductory tribute dedicated from the tireless rocker to his dedicated fans.

If not 100% memorable from a mere single spin only due to a few lesser tracks in its opening half, "Welcome 2 My Nightmare" features a worthy helping of solid songs that will surely see plenty of repeat play over the years (the coming days and weeks in particular, to be sure) from yours truly. As a whole it navigates vividly through darkly lurid fantasy, definitively playful yet unwary of touching on true horror. Though I'm sure to favor "I Am Made of You", "I'll Bite Your Face Off", and from "Something to Remember Me By" forward, the concept as a whole is rewarding. Yeah, even including "Caffeine". That latter stretch, from "Something to Remember Me By" through "Under the Bed", makes the album easily recommendable to any fan of real rock, classic Coop and concept albums. Dare I say, it occasionally brushes with shades of Roger Waters' knack for as much. Thank you, Alice!

Ke$ha, Alice Cooper, Tom Morello, Paul Stanley, Cheech Marin & Rob Zombie

Horrorthon '11: Red State (Kevin Smith, 2011)

2011-09-28T12:07:00.000-04:00

As with many cinephile children of the '80s and '90s, Kevin Smith's accessible, interconnected library of honestly crude and winningly relatable dialogue-centric comedies played a key role in breaking the ice of my true film passion. The often headline-making auteur's first non-comedy - rebelliously tagged "An Unlikely Film from that Kevin Smith" in the vein of Melvin Van Peebles' "Rated X by an All-White Jury" for the seminal "Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song" and Smith's own recent "[We] made a movie so titillating that we can only show you this [stick figure drawing]" from the unfortunate "Zack & Miri Make a Porno" - is this year's tense digital production "Red State", the potentially trailblazing release controversy of which has been widely chronicled from a rights auction sham at Sundance that Smith, probably accurately, describes as his "Jerry Maguire" moment to a unique nationwide screening tour including Quentin Tarantino's New Beverly Cinema. With a plot that could be described in part as "Hostel" in a church with sermon in place of physical torture, the film charts a harrowing day in which a cultish Christian compound is caught luring and abducting sacrilegious locals with the intention of "sending them to Satan" - carrying out their disturbed interpretation of God's work in what comes to carry blatant shades of the February 28, 1993 firefight at David Koresh's Davidian Branch in Waco, Texas. Is it an inspired deviation for the filmmaker I loved for many years and have, more recently, fought against progressively declining quality and a publicly souring attitude to continue loving, or is it simply a feeble stunt?

The most memorable works of horror pervert apparently harmless everyday elements, keeping us on edge in our own homes well after the fact. Stephen King has proven himself most prominent in this regard, having perhaps most notably rendered the private sanctity of our bathrooms dauntingly sinister with "It" and "Dreamcatcher". Places of religious worship, though heroically portrayed in many examples such as almost any Universal or Hammer "Dracula" picture, have also seen their share of corruption in films like "The Devil's Rain" (reviewed for last year's Horrorthon). In these cases the antagonists are, more often than not, of more overtly sinister creeds representative of evil itself. In "Red State", the believers demonized - and viewed as domestic terrorists - are extreme versions of Christianity distinctly akin to those of such notorious, Qur'ran-burning, publicity-seeking establishments as Fred Phelps' Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas and Terry Jones' Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida. Granted, these are warped examples of the Christian faith, but the simple fact of that faith being the villainy's root boldly stands out to make subscribers and agnostics tremble in certain company.

Though establishment-lite outside brief social rumblings and news coverage of anti-homosexual picketing before launching in to appropriately long-winded yet breezy discourse explanatory of the family-based compound's motives, "Red State" doesn't necessarily rely on current event knowledge to embellish possible fears that a life lived too deep within the myopic insulation of Christianity can lead to twisted mentalities capable of, as Smith's writing puts it, "the strangest things". Nevertheless, with the Church having become debauched in the public eye, it is easy to buy the depicted idea of utterly devout servitude as rote, seductive and generally outdated.

Smith stylistically branched out to an extent with his questionably selected director-for-hire work on "Cop Out", which played out far less like any prior Smith film in which cinematography takes a firm backseat and more like a misguided Edgar Wright imitation. The end result of "Cop Out" aside, Smith at least showed that after almost two decades in cinema he is capable of adapting to different approaches. "Red State" offers quite possibly the man's most interesting aesthetic yet through a fittingly frantic digital lens and dark or washed-out subjects. The proceedings are arguably more action-oriented in terms of genre definition, what with the heavy artillery that eventually enters scope, but in spite of that and the obvious slant against the deluded, it's all genuinely horrific from an objective perspective on humanity in general.

The fantastic Michael Parks creates still another biting character to love - or love to hate, rather - in pied piper Pastor Abin Cooper. Through comfortably assured posturing and the disagreeably eloquent justification his tongue spins he is believably bitter toward what he perceives as a truly wicked world. Melissa Leo, illustrating further she's the performing cornerstone of homely, angry housewives, is staggeringly triumphant as she disappears in to one of the most focal church members - one edgily conflicted between reluctant piety and desperately violent outbursts and calmly sedated by any shallow whisper merely involving the words "Christian" or "God". Kerry Bishé portrays the lone dissenter in an emotional turn that finally proves she can in fact act after having been handed the awkward deal of taking on the shafted lead in the doomed ninth season incarnation of "Scrubs". John Goodman is John Goodman, which is nary a negative and, man, is Stephen Root in everything these days, or what?

"Red State" is rattling to the point that your core will quiver, your sweat will pour and chills will run over your goosebumps' goosebumps, particularly when it appears to be heading down an unquestionably startling path that threatens unflinchingly to alter its entire playing field. Honestly, while the epilogical path instead taken is sensibly smooth, befitting of the film's platform and cathartically rewarding through a punctuative exclamation, it is of considerable disappointment the originally scripted finale was not realized - or at the very least alluded to sans a rational "dumb luck" explanation - as it is so alarmingly built up to.

All told, "Red State" is Kevin Smith's excellent return to form; or, more felicitously, his return to deserved artistic prolificity via a whole new form.

Horrorthon '11 (Intro): All the Colours of a Blood-Soaked Screen Part II

2011-09-28T12:06:00.009-04:00

An amended team has returned for another October full of horror musings with a banner by Gort (another by Quite-Gone Genie below). Follow the mayhem on The Corrierino, and read my intro piece below, if you dare.

All the Colours... All the Colours... All the Colours. You thought you had beheaded us. Drowned us. Put stakes through our hearts. Shot us, sending us toppling backward from a second story window. Re-imprisoned us within the dream world, "Home Alone" style. But we're resurrected, back for revenge - grown up in to hulking behemoths with newly possessed bodies, freshly sharpened machetes, hungry fangs and just enough extra backstory and/or dubious familial plot twists to justify another meagerly lucrative installment in our still-young franchise - and we've brought new blood to help lay siege on the hospital in which our prior attack has left you under intensive care. Truth is, from pastorally existential quandaries to fluffy rom-com romps, there's a little horror in everything. Or a lot, depending on the case and how you look at it. Whether we know we're experiencing it, whether the filmmakers are aware they're implementing it... it's there, escorting us to varying degrees of fear. Let us take another month to dwell in and examine some of fear's more apparent filmic embodiments... from the cheese to the cheddar and, likely, back again.

Reel Time ep. 22: Moneyball; Most Anticipated Films Remaining for 2011

2011-09-28T10:35:00.000-04:00

Never mind that pesky Apple logo in the corner... it is apparently quite difficult to find non-watermarked "Moneyball" trailers of passable screencapping quality! Anyhow, yes, the much-buzzed "Moneyball" is indeed the subject of review on this fully crewed new episode hosted of course by Ty Landis and featuring Andrew Cate, Derin Spector, Deepayan Sengupta and myself. We also discuss a top 5 list (or... 6, seeing as two titles tied for 5th) of our most anticipated films remaining for the calendar year (along with many others), compiled to form a consensus based upon our own individual lists (mine of which can be read in relative detail here).

We have also debuted our new blog collective at thereeltimepodcast.wordpress.com - check it out!

Next week: Spotlight on legendary director Robert Altman!

Listen to the episode at Reel Time!

Facebook | Twitter | iTunes