What is this blog all about?

This blog is dedicated to film -- with a special affinity for Italian Horror -- and my amaetuer musings on the topic.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

This May Be the Only Time You See an Award Attached to the Name Hugo Stiglitz


J.D. of the always-interesting-to-read blog Radiator Heaven has tagged me with an award entitled: You Are a Great Read. I don't know where it came from and I don't know how long it's been going around, but hey, for maybe the first time in my life I've won something! Haha. Thanks J.D. for thinking so highly of the blog. I don't know if I'm supposed to pass this thing along too, but since that seems to be what people are doing with it I will gladly give this Great Read award to the following bloggers (I'll follow the recent Academy trend of naming 10 worthy candidates here):

Greg at Cinema Styles
Ryan at Medfly Quarantine
Bill at The Kind of Face You Hate
Rick at Coosa Creek Cinema
Pat at Doodad Kind of Town
Ed at Only the Cinema
Alexander at Coleman's Corner in Cinema
Sam at Wonders in the Dark
Jason at The Cooler
Jon at The Powerstrip


Congrats! You are all (more than) Great Reads and it isn't hyperbole when I say that every day I frequent your blogs I learn something new and understand film better than I did the day before. You've all made me a better film-goer.

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Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Lazy Blogger Repost: Freddy Kreuger and Postmodernism -- Thoughts on Wes Craven's New Nightmare




This re-post of an essay I wrote last year is an attempt to release content that some of you may not have read. It's also a way for me to continue to refine my poor writing and find ways to post content in my as-of-right-now hectic life of juggling work, grad school, and wedding stuff. So in the next month or so (the wedding is in August) I will sprinkle old material (with some touch-ups) with some new (I still have two more "forgotten gems" of 1999 to do, then it's onto the top 10). So look for the usual output of material on here, some of it may be re-done older stuff, and some may be fresh thoughts, but my hope is that it will all be new to you (read: I have a lot more readers now than I did a year ago). I hope you enjoy my laziness.


Wes Craven has always been one of the most influential, and sometimes creative, forces working within the horror genre. His films The Last House on the Left (which coined the popular phrase “just keep repeating, it’s only a movie” in its trailer) and the equally-revered cult classic The Hills Have Eyes have both created the blueprint for the barrage of torture porn films released within the last five years (The Hills Have Eyes was remade with little inspiration or panache). I don’t much care for either film – although the latter is far superior to the overrated Last House on the Left). He resuscitated the near-dead genre in the 90’s (an altogether forgettable decade for horror films, save a few films) with his 1996 hit Scream (a lot of his previous films were dead on arrival themselves, so he was a culprit just as much as he was responsible for giving it new life), but in 1984 he created a town, a character, and a famous street that would change the landscape of 1980’s American horror films and would cement Craven as one of the premier American horror filmmakers.

Craven’s contributions to the genre are surprisingly lost on new horror fans. He made the aforementioned cult classics in the late 70’s and early 80’s and then made some not so great career moves when he directed films like Swamp Thing, The Hills Have Eyes II, The Serpent and the Rainbow (his attempt at Cannibal Feroux, perhaps), Shocker, the completely forgettable A Vampire in Brooklyn, Cursed, and in one of the oddest career choices I've seen (almost as weird as Sam Raimi directing For Love of the Game or David Lynch directing The Straight Story) he completely stepped outside of the genre to make a PG rated drama starring Meryl Streep. There is an interesting film that lies in between his clunkers like Shocker and A Vampire in Brooklyn, and is a good indicator of where he was heading with Scream. This film is his postmodern re-imagining of Freddy Kreuger simply titles New Nightmare. Breathing new life into a stale character – much in the same way Craven breathed new life into a stale genre – Craven stripped away all of the signifiers his most famous character was recognized by and returned Kreuger to what he was originally mean to be: a signifier of evil. Best summed up: Craven goes back to the boogeyman approach with Krueger; he is like the ‘bad guy’ in every fairy-tale we read growing up. Wes Craven’s New Nightmare is a direct result of what New Line Cinema did to Freddy Kreuger, transforming him from an evil child killer into a wise-cracking pop culture icon; a caricature of what Craven intended for him to be.

It had been a long time since I had last seen New Nightmare, and not only does the film still hold up as one of the benchmark horror films, I actually find it more clever and creepier than the original film. The original Nightmare film was great because it blurred the lines of reality and dream; it was unsettling, and you were never quite comfortable watching the film because you knew the second something looked askew bad things were going to happen. The original film is patient, not a slice and dice slasher film, but rather it revels in its creepy ambience (the school, the boiler room, the Thompson’s house, the fog on Elm Street, etc) and takes its time with the scares, which come off as genuine instead of the usual contrived scare moments of 80’s slasher films. It was also one of the first horror films to use state of the art (for the time) special effects, creating some iconic horror imagery like Freddy and the latex wall, and the rotating room that was used to create one of the more eerie scenes of the film when Tina is brutally murdered. Craven had a great idea for a film, and in fact he never wanted the film to have so many sequels; however, New Line couldn’t resist as the fans turned Freddy into a pop culture icon – so five sequels followed with only the second sequel entitled Dream Warriors having Craven’s name on it (he co-wrote it), and starring both John Saxon (!) and Heather Langenkamp from the original (also it was directed by Chuck Russell of The Mask fame and was co-written by Frank Darabont who did Shawshank and The Mist, so the film had talent working on it).

In 1994 I have no doubt that Craven saw his career was floundering with some of the films he was making, so he wisely decided to go back to his most famous film and his most famous character to try and resurrect his career. The result was one of the first (Tenebre also did this…and oddly enough, also starred John Saxon) postmodern horror films that was not only self reflexive, but a clear indicator that Craven wasn’t about to let the horror genre die (which it was doing); by recreating the creepy atmosphere from the 1984 film, and again bluring the lines of what Jean Baudrillard called “hyper reality”, Craven constructed a film that was smart and clever and really quite original for the horror genre. Craven also showed that the film should be taken seriously as a horror film by removing the tongue from inside Freddy’s cheek; which made the audience fear him like they did ten years earlier. There is even a clever jab at New Line for what they turned Freddy into when Heather Langenkamp is doing an interview for a television show, and Robert Englund comes out in his Freddy outfit and the studio audience, donned with Freddy masks and signs extolling the character, goes crazy, showering him with love and adoration.

The film takes place in Los Angeles primarily at the home of Heather Langenkamp, the actress who played Nancy Thompson, and on the studio lot where the iconic glove of claws Freddy wielded is being revamped and updated to look more nineties. The opening of the film is an allusion to the opening of the original, and right away Craven is using this self reflexive language to make a clear distinction that the film recognizes that these are effects and characters, but it doesn’t lessen the horror, because they are still going to protrude your senses and create images that stick with you. This Nightmare film is not so much about Freddy Kreuger, but a commentary about how horror affects those who work within the genre, and the fans who love it so much (so much that they allow their children to watch it, a theme that is explicated by Craven as we see Heather’s reluctance to usher her son into the films world).

There are a lot of earthquakes in Los Angeles, and Heather is starting to have some unsettling nightmares about Freddy Kreuger. These of course are dismissed by her friends and co-stars as nothing more than stress from work and the earthquakes, and a stalker who is making obscene phone calls (Craven even brings back the famous phone scene where the receiver turns into Freddy’s mouth and he ‘tongues’ Heather). Of course none of these issues compare to the fact that her son Dylan is having horrifying night terrors and sleep walking while speaking in a weird Freddy-esque voice. From this point on the film assumes the role of fairy-tale as the motif of the bread crumbs and finding their way back home is established…and away we go into the weird world of Wes Craven. The Hansel and Gretel motif is taken one step further as the end of the film takes place in a furnace and Freddy proclaims to Dylan that he's going to eat him up.

When Heather reports to Wes Craven and Robert Englund about these weird dreams, she gets a strange response from Robert (who later flees L.A.) and Wes tells her that its time to make another film because he’s been having “those dreams again.” Craven’s dreams are the inspiration for his films, so we are told, and Heather wants to know what happens. It is in this scene that Craven explains the theory that perhaps because they killed Freddy, he is like the genie in the bottle, and what was keeping him occupied and trapped is no longer around (i.e. they stopped making the films) therefore he has been released and broken the fourth wall; he is now a part of their reality until they can find a way to trap him again. The otherworldliness (read: postmodern themes) of the film really escalates at this point as Heather slowly transforms into her character Nancy, and in a truly inspired scene asks for the help of co-star John Saxon to help with Dylan (who just had an episode). When they walk outside to talk things over he begins to call her Nancy, at this point Heather realizes what is happening and by not calling him John, but Dad, she makes the necessary leap across the threshold of reality into the realm of fairy-tale. The way Craven handles the seamless ping-ponging of reality and dream is a masterful stroke that really adds an original element to a film series that had been watered down by five sequels.

I don’t ever recall being that scared by the Nightmare films, they are creepy more so than anything else – especially the scene in New Nightmare where Heather sees Dylan being pulled into the coffin of her dead husband, Dylan's father, by Freddy – but what’s interesting about New Nightmare is that the film does everything that Scream does, only better. I can only assume that this film (which made a mere 18 million at the box office) was not that successful because either: fans wanted the sardonic Freddy Kreuger and got the evil one instead, or perhaps, because there were no smart ass jokes delivered by Jaime Kennedy and Matthew Lillard to ease the tension of the film. For whatever reason New Nightmare is often overlooked by fans of the genre who look at the film Craven made two years later as being responsible for the resurgence of the genre; however, Craven introduced the postmodern theme of self-reflexivity two years earlier in a much better film (and I thought Scream was pretty clever, but it’s nothing compared to New Nightmare). Now there are probably countless films that can be considered all of these things before New Nightmare was made, but I am speaking specifically about the horror genre here, and it has to be noted that what Craven did was deconstruct the genre and turn something that was stale, that had become a caricature, a parody of itself, and made it fresh and alive and even (gasp!) scary. New Nightmare is not only a funny inside joke for fans of the original film, it’s not only a clever meta-horror film, but I think it deserves to be in the conversation as one of the great horror films made in the last 30 years.

Craven has always tried to tie this cleverness and awareness into his films, and he was doing something with an old product that other horror directors wouldn’t dream of. While John Carpenter was essentially making the same movie over and over (ugh, Vampires and Ghosts of Mars anyone?), Craven decided to see what it would be like for the viewer to consider Freddy Kreuger as an evil and scary character like they did ten years ago. By dressing Kreuger in a black trench coat and black fedora, he is stripping this iconic character of his most famous signifier – and in the process, doing something very postmodern and intelligent for a horror film – Freddy no longer has his red and black striped sweater or dirty old hat, no this is a new imagining of Freddy Kreuger: a perverse evil that not only has intruded upon our dreams, but now is evident in real life. Kudos to Craven for thinking outside of the box and finding an intelligent and original way to reinvent his most profitable monster; and as if showing Robert Englund playing Freddy Kreuger as rock star (the television show scene) wasn’t enough proof that the fourth wall had been broken, Craven gets one last wink in as the film closes and the credits role and we see: Freddy Kreuger as Himself.

New Nightmare is undoubtedly one of the finest horror films Craven has made, and it’s proof that the genre, once again, desperately needs him. His recent thriller Red Eye was harmless enough, but the genre, although not suffering financially, is beginning to look a lot like the early 90’s these days. Every horror film released in the last 10 years looks the same (Damn you Michael Bay for producing the TCM remake), tries for the same thing (ugh torture porn…damn you Quentin Tarantino for producing Hostel), and has the same snarky, nihilistic attitude towards its audience (anyone remember Chaos or how about the recent The Strangers? The former indebted to Craven's Last House on the Left, and the latter owes much to The Hills Have Eyes). Unless your name is Neil Marshall (and even he’s not above being responsible as his follow up to The Descent, Doomsday, was bollocks) the future of the genre looks bleak. Sam Raimi gave us a guest appearance this year with the fabulous Drag Me to Hell – and in a way was doing today what Craven did with New Nightmare as Raimi’s film was essentially a re-working of his best ideas from The Evil Dead films. It’s apparent: the genre needs Wes Craven again (I'm assuming for now that this was a one-time deal for Raimi). I haven’t always liked what he’s done, but he’s proven each decade that he has the right formula for pumping new life into an almost-dead genre. New Nightmare is proof that Craven is the man for the job.


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Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Revisiting 1999: The Forgotten Films --- The Iron Giant (Brad Bird)



Here's what I've covered so far:

Intro: My Year at "Film School"
The (sorta)Forgettable Films
The Films That Just Don't Hold Up
When Bad Movies Happen to Good Directors

The Forgotten Gems of 1999:
The War Zone (Tim Roth)
Sunshine (István Szabó)
Beyond the Mat (Barry W. Blaustein)
Galaxy Quest (Dean Parisot)
Mumford (Lawrence Kasdan)
Bowfinger (Frank Oz)
Cookie's Fortune (Robert Altman)
Sleepy Hollow (Tim Burton)

It seems odd to think that it was only 10 years ago that Disney’s stranglehold on the animation market was loosening; after all, today we have Pixar (Wall-E, Up), Dreamworks (Shrek), and Blue Sky Studios (Ice Age) giving Disney a run for its money – and in some ways outdrawing Disney movies (which seem to have focused more on the High School Musical crowd than the animation market). In 1999, however, it was absurd to really think that any other animated movie not named Toy Story was going to advance the genre or rival something backed by Disney (even Toy Story was Disney produced). Enter Brad Bird. The Iron Giant is a film often omitted when talking about the evolution of animation over the past ten years, but Bird’s film is a perfect example of the type of animated film that Pixar has made a lot of money off of; the type of animated film that is concurrently moving (something for the adults) and funny without being too cutesy (something for the kids) and the result is one the best animated films of the last ten years.

One of the best parts of this whole exercise of re-watching these films from 1999 has been re-discovering these forgotten gems. I forgot about a lot of what made The Iron Giant such a wonderful and poignant experience – something that you usually don’t associate with animated films (well not then at least…now we’ve had Wall-E and Up back-to-back years, so I think this particular formula of animated films that tackle heavier themes are catching on). The film shows the freedom filmmakers are afforded when dealing with animation (just think of how much this film would have cost if it were live action) and also allows for a director to stretch audience’s expectations when it comes to a genre.

The film takes place in the 1950’s at the height of the “race to space” as American’s spent most of their time looking up at the sky at Sputnik. From the sky comes the iron giant, landing in a small Maine town and eating anything that is metal along the way. Hogarth is nine-year-old who is living with his single mom (voiced by Jennifer Anniston) who happened upon the giant one day. The giant is eating Hogarth’s TV antenna and he follows the giant on his path of destruction where he saves the giant from electrocution (the giant is about to eat a bunch of live wires) and immediately the giant takes a liking to Hogarth, forming a friendship that reminds the viewer of another movie about a visitor from outer space: E.T.

The setting for the film is important because as with anything from the late 50’s paranoia engulfs the town as word about the visitor from outer space spreads. They see the giant as an enemy of the United States and so of course the government is soon setting up camp in the small town with G-man Kent Mansley (Christopher McDonald) afraid of the giant and what it could mean – therefore he wants to destroy it. The only person who shows Hogarth any respect is a beatnik metal-artist (Harry Connick Jr.) who lets Hogarth hangout with his new metal friend at his scrap yard (supplying the giant with plenty to eat – also creating some beautifully animated scenes).

As I mentioned earlier the film follows the mold of the E.T. storyline where a lonely kid happens upon an alien who befriends him and then spends a lot of the film trying to hide his new friend from his mom. There’s a lot of charm in this film, especially the early moments of Hogarth’s friendship where he teaches the big iron giant (voiced by Vin Diesel) how to talk and be humane (there’s a sweet scene where they come across a recently slain deer). There’s a lot of humor, too, and in one scene particular where one of the giant’s fingers is roaming around Hogarth’s house. Hogarth has just down for dinner with his mom and she asks him to bless the food. The scene plays out with the giant finger creating all sorts of problems for Hogarth as he is simultaneously praying for the dinner and trying to tell the finger what not to do (it’s a hilariously executed scene); however, those moments of elation are soon interrupted by the buried theme of paranoia and the inevitable loss Hogarth’s friend.

Bird, a “Simpson’s” veteran, has a lot of fun with the ridiculous nature of the 1950’s, and in typical “Simpson’s” fashion takes some funny jabs at the “duck and cover” videos that students watched in school (this also reminded me of the underrated Joe Dante comedy Matinee). The art here is drastically different than anything Bird did on “The Simpson’s”, but the spirit is the same. He seems free here, able to tell the story he wants to tell (adapted from poet laureate Ted Hughes’ children story) without feeling the need to throw in talking animals or musical numbers – which may not seem like a big deal today, but in 1999 was rare for a non-Japanese produced animated film to do.

The technique used in The Iron Giant is what is called “straight line”, which is more indebted to the anime-style in Japan than anything American audiences are used to seeing; and if you’ve seen any of the great master Hayao Miyazaki’s films (My Neighbor Totoro, Princess Mononoke) you get a sense at what Bird is going for here. Bird and his animators are able to display an astonishingly wide range of emotions on the giants face. Much like with what fellow “Simpson’s” vet Jim Reardon with last years Wall-E, Bird does with his iron giant: a lifeless form is given the ability to showcase an infinite assortment of emotions. Animation style aside, it’s really what Bird does with the story that makes The Iron Giant so memorable. He set the stage for all of the films that would follow, creating a blueprint so that filmmakers would not have to be worried about being indebted to the Disney style of animated film. Kids are more attracted to good storytelling than cute things on the screen signing songs – and I think this shift is obvious now with Bird’s own films that would follow (The Incredibles, Ratatoullie) and other Pixar films like the recent Wall-E or Up which focus a lot of their attention on the dramatic aspect of filmmaking as opposed to what appeases the kiddies.

The Iron Giant just misses the cut of being in my top ten for 1999, but it sits somewhere in the 15-11 range. It’s a tremendous example of Brad Bird’s genius (which would only be further cemented with his next two films) and that all animation doesn’t have to adhere to a formula, and, when used properly, animation can be one of the most freeing and un-inhibiting ways to go about making a film. Just watch the way the final 20 minutes of this film unfolds: the action is so tense, so enthralling that you forget you’re watching an animated film, and then when you remember that you are watching an animated film you are in awe at how beautiful, effortless, and flawless the animation in the final action sequence is (and feels). It doesn’t seem revolutionary anymore to say “I never thought an animated film could evoke such emotion and make me actually feel something” (and, oh man, the ending of this movie still gets to me) because of the success of the aforementioned Pixar movies had in transcending animation, but in 1999, it was a rare thing to say indeed, and The Iron Giant definitely makes you utter those words.


Extra Stills:







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Monday, July 6, 2009

Final Girl Film Club: Burial Ground (AKA The Nights of Terror)


This is part of the Final Girl Film Club -- this month tackles my favorite subgenre and focuses on one of the weirdest films to ever come out of the Italian zombie movement. Head on over to Final Girl to check out all of the other great entries.

Some connoisseurs of Italian horror really find this film to have profound statements about the class struggle in Italy at the time. They claim that the zombies rising from the dirt and attacking the castle is an ideal metaphor for the bourgeois rising up and attacking the wealthy social class. Okay…not really, but Andrea Bianchi’s Burial Ground (AKA The Nights of Terror) is one of the most infamous so-bad-it’s-good type horror movies ever to come out of the Italian Zombie subgenre. It's hilarious and horrible, and sure to be one of the most surreal movie-going experiences you’ll ever have.

The story is about some rich swingers who meet up at an old castle/mansion to have a discussion with a professor friend of theirs. Only what they don't know is that the professor stumbled upon “a great secret” that “must be true”. He heads outside and into a crypt to chisel away at some stone when some zombies are like “what’s up? Why did you have to bring us back from the dead?” The viewer is left to think that the poor professor knew these zombies before they were donned with skeleton masks covered in oatmeal and rubber cement, because when the zombies approach him he utters one of the films many hilarious lines: “stand back! I’m your friend.” Best not to barter with the walking dead because his “friends” don’t listen to him and poor Professor (who looks a lot like Alan Moore) supplies his "friends" with some easy dinner, and I mean easy; he just stands there and lets them chomp away, and thus kicks off Andrea Bianchi's Burial Ground.

Bianchi was a hack who mostly worked in soft-core porn or the giallo, moving around like most Italian horror directors, to whatever idea made him the most money. Some of his films include: Maniac Killer, Cry of a Prostitute, Strip Nude for your Killer, and The Malicious Whore. So really his only attempt at a zombie movie was with Burial Ground and even then the entire first act of the film is nothing more than Cinemax quality porn.

Once the gettin' busy commences we cut outside to two people making love in the garden. They soon realize something is wrong when a zombie rises up from the ground just as they're getting hot and heavy (oh what a hilarious metaphor!) in scene that is directly taken from Zombi 2. Perhaps that is why in Europe Burial Ground was actually referred to as Zombi 3. The zombies don't even look great as I mentioned before and really it appears that they only took the time with a select few that they showcase throughout the film, all of the extras were just given oatmeal and rubber cement to put on their cheap Halloween masks.

The fight scenes with the zombies and the swingers are some of the most hilarious in an y zombie movie. Our mustache-clad swingers find anything they can use to stave off the zombies (some even look like Christopher Llyod…see above). During one horribly long scene we get a POV of one of the characters holding a pitchfork (Hey, it’s Italian Zombie Doom!) just starring at the zombies while the rip-off Goblin music plays in the background. After a horribly long and awkward fight scene the zombies are finished off by, get this, a planting pot...yeeeeeah. This leads to the ever popular head-as-paper mache-being-destroyed scene that shows maggots escaping from the "brain."

The zombies in Bianchi’s film are up to the task though as they are more than capable of throwing knives and wielding farming tools themselves. In one hilarious scene the chamber maid wisely looks out the window to see what’s going on…and of course as she does this a zombie (who must have had some knife throwing practice at one time in his life) hurls a knife at her hand. Now stuck, the maid has no other option but to sit there as the zombies get a scythe and slooooooowly chop off her head. Pretty awesome. The zombies are also more resourceful than most as in one scene they show signs of great team work as the work together to make a battering ram so that they can knock down the door to the estate.

One of the main reasons why this film is so infamous is because of the creepy little mutant kid Michael. Here is what looks like a middle-aged little person playing a ten year old boy who has a weird obsession with his mother. He's always walking in on her while she's getting her groove back with some slimy looking Italian dude (the best line is "you're getting a rise out of me" all the while zombies are rising from the grave – insert “boing” noise here), and none of his creepiness is helped out by the horrible dubbing job.

The most famous scene of the film – and the one scene that when you explain it to others they say “oh yeah, I’ve seen that movie, I had forgotten what that movie was called” – is when Michael's mother slaps him after he gets himself a handful of his mom's goodies "just like when he was a boy" he says...yuck...but that's not the worst of it: Michael runs away and is bitten by a zombie. We are supposed to forget about creepy little Michael but when two of the survivors and Michael's mom are the only people left and they retreat to a church (with flesh eating monks and all!) there's little Michael emerging from a door (how he got to the church I have no idea) and his mother full of guilt for slapping her boy, and so pleased to see her boy alive, does the most disgusting thing in any movie...she lets her "boy" get some milk just like when he was a baby. Gross. And stupid...because as the other two look disgusted (hey something did gross out Italian swingers, amazing!) it is clear that Michael is a zombie, and sure enough, mommy gets the worlds worst tittie twister as Michael takes a big 'ol bite out of his moms breast. Ouch!

There are some classic Italian horror moments in the film like the pacing of the action, the horrible dubbing, the synth soundtrack, and especially how the zombies die. When the zombies are trying to find their way to the second floor of the mansion one of the swinger dudes who looks like Buzz on "Baywatch" grabs a gun and proceeds to shoot all of the zombies in the head. This leads to the always popular Italian shot of the zombie head with a completely black backdrop, exploding, looking more like a watermelon being hit by a shotgun blast than a head. This "isolated" head shot was popular in a lot of Italian horror films as the directors wanted to get as close to the gruesomeness as possible. The only problem was it makes it even more obvious how stupid and cheap the effects and make-up are.

This is still somewhat of a forgotten zombie film even though it has a cult following (not as big as Zombi 2 of course). This film is a perfect example of how the Italian's began ripping off their own stuff, and showed just what kind of hacks these directors were. Whether it was the giallo film, the cannibal film, or the zombie film, it was guaranteed that you would see all three of those genres on an Italian horror directors resume. The film is good for a lot of laughs as it produces some of the cheapest looking zombies, and ends in ridiculous fashion with a quote from The Profecy (that’s how they spelled it) of the Black Spider. See if you can spot the spelling error in the quote – and somehow that seems entirely appropriate for this film.

The violence is mild and predictable after if you’re familiar with this subgenre, especially the more popular Zombi 2 and The Beyond, but with its campy and hilarious characters and surreal moments Burial Ground is one of the better Italian zombie films. It deserves to be in the canon of Italian zombie movies. In the words of Kenny Banya: "It's gold Jerry...gold!"


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Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Public Enemies: Take One



I plan on seeing this again (hence the "take one" in the title), but for the moment here are my ramblings on the film after I saw it this afternoon.

Michael Mann can film a face like no one else. He loves to linger on faces, letting the audience figure out what’s going on behind those cold eyes of his characters. And it’s not just that Mann likes faces, it’s that he loves lingering there with his in-the-moment digital photography and intense music pumping in the background – here is an auteur who is interested in the un-action of action movies. Perhaps no other recent filmmaker has been able to dupe audiences more frequently than Mann has with his last three films: 2004’s Collateral about a hitman, 2006’s reboot of the kitch-tastic 80’s hit Miami Vice, and now in 2009 with Public Enemies – a gangster film about the last year of John Dillinger’s life. All three of these films (and to an extent all of Mann’s pictures) share the same trait of on the surface seeming like a commercial action film created to rake in the Summer dollars; whether it’s with big stars (Tom Cruise, Jaime Foxx, Johnny Depp) or sure-fire plots that sound exciting and seem to guarantee action (movie about a hitman, buddy cop movie, gangster film), but what’s buried beneath these seemingly simple plots is something that is always more interesting than the bang-bang, shoot ‘em up films they sound like. Mann is interested in the action that drives his subjects, here is it John Dillinger, but it could be anyone; Mann, like the French master Jean-Pierre Melville, loves to look deeply into his characters who commit crimes because that’s more interesting than the crimes themselves.

I can imagine this film taking in the same opening box office that Miami Vice did on it’s opening weekend…then audiences figure out that this isn’t a Scarface or Godfather type crime film and run away to the comforts of mind-numbing summer fair like Transformers. So be it. They don’t know what they’re missing. Public Enemies fits Mann’s oeuvre like a glove, and it’s easy to see why he was so drawn to the material. No, not because of the gun battles and the bank robberies (although those do remind us of Mann’s earlier films like Heat and Miami Vice), but because here are a two men, John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) and G-Man Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale) who are on opposite sides of the law, but are driven by the same force to excel at what they do, no matter what the cost, and to only think about the present.

Bale’s square jaw is at home under his stern look and fedora, and surprisingly his morose tone works here as Purvis is a man who gets no joy in his job – believe me when I tell you that this man is the antithesis of Al Pacino’s cop in Heat. Depp is just outstanding as John Dillinger, a man who, as he introduces himself to people, “robs banks.” And that’s the Dillinger Mann showcases. There are no flashbacks into his past to try and understand why he does what he does (although in one scene he does mention that his dad beat him because he didn’t know what else to do with him), he is a man possessed, a man who is cold and calculated and can get through a bank in under two minutes…he doesn’t have time for backstory. He is also a man of the people. He understands the need to play to the people as he will no doubt be hiding out among them, and the way Depp handles the moments of celebrity are nice dashes of humor in an otherwise humorless film.

Depp and Mann decide to showcase this Dillinger as a man who is not likeable. Sure, he may have some redeeming qualities about him, but for the most part we don’t like this man, even though we’re spending the better part of two hours with him…up close and personal, too. Just like in the most recent Michael Mann pictures, digital cameras are used to great effect. Here he films Purvis mostly with film, and in a cold, detached manner; but Dillinger is filmed up close with digital – and it’s obvious that it’s digital, maybe the most obvious Mann has ever made it that he prefers this medium – but there we are, as in-the-moment as we can be, but as is the case with any Mann character, we are also kept at a distance from them, left to figure out what makes them tick and why they do what they do.

This isn’t a gangster film like that of Scorsese or Coppola. There are no family gatherings or quirky characters that make you laugh and think “hey they don’t have such a bad life.” These are gangsters who rob for a living, but never seem to enjoy themselves (except for Baby Face Nelson who takes great pleasure in shooting things up). Like most of Mann’s crime films this is a deeply existential one (again reminding me of Melville). Mann loves for the viewer to come up with their own theories on the histories of the characters and why they do what they do. Like I mentioned in my Miami Vice review earlier this week, it’s rare for a filmmaker to have the patience for this kind of thing, and it just cements what the director is more interested in. He may make action movies, but it’s the deep thoughts and pondering of the films main characters (again the shots of those faces) that he’s most interested in. And he when he does do action, he does it better than anyone else, he does arty action, comparable to anything Terrence Malick has made.

It’s funny, after reading a lot of the fine entries from the Michael Mann blog-a-thon hosted by J.D. at Radiator Heaven, I’ve noticed a lot of the same themes swirling around all of Mann’s pictures, and Public Enemies is no different. Here’s a film that seems to be a pastiche of Mann’s most famous work: Thief, Heat, Manhunter, and my personal favorite Miami Vice. The pacing, as is the case with most of Mann’s films, is not for everyone, but the man never films an uninteresting scene, and I love the way the viewer is dropped into scene after scene with very little use of establishing shots so that we may get our bearings. The film is deliberate, but felt like it went by quickly because of this decision by Mann. In addition to all of the usual themes at play, here, there’s also the usual aesthetic goodness that one finds in a Mann picture.

Dante Spinotti re-teams with Mann (he shot his first foray into digital The Insider) and evokes a lot of the classic gangster film feel. He also gives several visual nods to a lot of Mann's other crime films. What’s most amazing about the way the film was shot was that we have never seen a period piece shot with digital before. So, it’s a little jarring at first, but it also feels all the more real, like we’re there watching all of this happen. It’s so much more affective than sepia tone or muted colors. It’s yet another example of one of the many things that has always fascinated me about Mann’s pictures: his ability to make you feel in-the-moment, yet simultaneously keeping you at arms length. The film is beautiful to look at, but that hardly comes as a surprise to anyone who enjoys Mann’s work. I can't wait for the film to be released on DVD so I can take a look at some of the scenes shot by shot.

What else can I say about this film? I feel like I haven’t even really done the film critical justice. I think that’s because I need to let the film settle into my mind for the weekend, think about it some more, and then come back with some better thoughts. I know I’ll see it again (especially since the showing I went to a woman decided to treat the theater like her own living while she dealt with her baby and fielded cell phone calls in the theater.) and when I do I feel like there will be even more to say. As for specific elements of the film besides the usual Mann themes…I loved how Mann showed J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup) trying to implement the Bureau in its early phases of clean-cut men in suites, and the way Purvis challenges Hoover saying he needs men who know what to do in a gun fight. I also like how they show the shift of crime towards the end of Dillinger’s life. Robbing banks isn’t sufficient enough anymore, it’s too risky for the meagerness of the reward; so, instead gangsters turned to bookies and the betting system as a way to steal money, and the scene where Dillinger finds out that his skills aren’t really an asset anymore is one of the best scenes of the movie. Conversely law enforcement was now starting to become dirtier and dirtier where it was okay to rough up witnesses in order to get information (even women weren’t above these harsh interrogation methods). Crime was becoming more organized, almost more civil, while the black and white police ethos was becoming grayer. Needless to say the action scenes were typical top-notch Mann stuff – meticulous and brilliantly executed. I also really enjoyed the Robin Hood style of bank robbing that Dillinger subscribed to. There’s a great scene where he tells one of the bank customers who has put his money on the counter for Dillinger to take to keep his money, and that they’re there for the banks money, not theirs. I thought the way Dillinger endeared himself to the public was one of the most interesting things about the movie, and especially as an anti-hero – a man who was stealing from the rich during a time of great depression.

I know there’s more I want to say, and I am sure this isn’t the last this film will be discussed on the blog. I haven’t even mentioned the dynamic between Depp (whose performance I feel like I haven't said enough about, but he understands Mann's love of actors acting with their face...he hits everything just right in this movie) and Marion Cotillard who plays Billie, Dillinger’s love interest. It’s rare for a woman to be the focus in a Mann film, but like Amy Brenneman’s Eady from Heat, Billie is integral to the story. Public Enemies above everything else is just a great entertainment, and cements Mann as a true poet of the cinema. More thoughts are sure to come, but for now, I feel pretty comfortable calling this one of the best films of the year.


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Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Revisiting 1999: The Forgotten Films --- Sleepy Hollow (Tim Burton)



Here's what I've covered so far:

Intro: My Year at "Film School"
The (sorta)Forgettable Films
The Films That Just Don't Hold Up
When Bad Movies Happen to Good Directors

The Forgotten Gems of 1999:
The War Zone (Tim Roth)
Sunshine (István Szabó)
Beyond the Mat (Barry W. Blaustein)
Galaxy Quest (Dean Parisot)
Mumford (Lawrence Kasdan)
Bowfinger (Frank Oz)
Cookie's Fortune (Robert Altman)


I feel as though I have to come clean from the onset: I don’t much care for Tim Burton’s films. I know a lot of people love his work and praise his visual style, but honestly, his films do nothing for me. The guy is a visionary, I’ll give him that, but he can’t create characters worth a lick. I don’t think I have ever seen a Tim Burton movie where I really cared about what was going to happen to one of the characters, and I’ve always found the films where he completely abandons any semblance of story for more outrageous visuals to be his most tolerable. In 1999 he adapted Washington Irving’s popular short story “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” and what he created was a work that was on par visually (read: it looked great and had bizarre set pieces) with his other films, but succeeded in making me laugh and have a good time while watching the story unfold – something that isn’t that common with Burton’s films.


Sleepy Hollow is a lot of fun, and it’s peculiar that I don’t hear it talked of very often when the director’s fans speak of his great movies. I always find it a chore to sit through Burton’s mopey excursions, but his take on Irving’s classic Gothic tale (which fits Burton like a glove…the establishing shots of the towns and the art direction are spot on, here) is an efficiently paced, sometimes scary, sometimes funny, always interesting to watch, horror movie.

Burton has a lot of fun with the Ichabod Crane character. He’s a scientific know-it-all who disregards the myth about The Headless Horseman from the minute he steps into Sleepy Hollow. He takes an analytical/scientific approach to the case, and what must be some of the earliest practices in forensics. Burton enjoys splattering blood onto Crane’s face whenever he can (making the viewer think of Sam Raimi), and as is normal with a Burton film, loves to don Depp with all kinds of bizarre “scientific” contraptions. It’s no wonder these two wanted to re-make Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, just look at the fun they’re having here.

The film is lit brilliantly, the sets beautifully constructed (the windmill at the end and the church, especially, make for great set pieces), the dream sequences stunning to look at (Burton has a thing for these ethereal dream sequences), and the music by Danny Elfman is haunting – so what else is new, right? Well, the delight is new. As I alluded to earlier I’ve always found it a chore to sit through Burton’s films. Only recently with Sweeney Todd did I find anything worthwhile after viewing one of his films, and after re-visiting Sleepy Hollow it’s even clearer now that the man should stick with stories of the macabre. The film is not really scary, that’s ruined by the first moment we see the martial arts fighting Headless Horseman, but it has a lot of fun with the spookiness that these kinds of myths evoke.

Irving’s story is more about Crane and the townsfolk, specifically the Van Tassel's, and especially Crane's relationship with Katrina Van Tassel (played by Christina Ricci who seems like she was born to be in a Burton film), and Burton for once does a decent job of establishing character and creating a likable, albeit exasperating, protagonist. And Depp plays that protagonist to perfection. He hits every offbeat note right. Many people point to his recent role as Jack Sparrow as proof the man can do comedy, but the real evidence is in Sleepy Hollow. Depp shows a lot of range in a one dimensional caricature, and he and Burton have a lot of fun with some of the more over-the-top moments (seriously: there’s a lot of blood in this movie…I’m talking Evil Dead 2 style.); there's even a moment at the end of the movie that reminded me of the Large Marge scene from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. You also get all kinds of Burton stalwarts playing bizarre roles: Michael Gough, Christopher Walken (who is appropriately cast as the pre-headless Headless Horseman), and Jeffery Jones. The screenplay was written Andrew Kevin Walker who wrote Seven, and even though this movie isn't nearly as serious about its horror tropes as that thriller was, he has a lot of fun playing up the lighter side of horror (Christopher Lee even has a cameo at the beginning, giving us the feeling of an old campy Hammer Horror picture).

What else can I say? This movie won’t set your world on fire, it has pretty much everything aesthetically that you expect from a Burton film – mix in some humor and creative set pieces and you have a movie that’s about a B- or B grade picture; but, despite what sounds like a lukewarm reaction to the movie I really did enjoy myself while re-watching it (I hadn’t seen it since it was out in the theater), and it’s a shame that it has been somewhat forgotten in Burton’s popular oeuvre. Among the forgotten gems of 1999 that I've covered Sleepy Hollow is probably the least impressive, but it’s a fun horror movie, and it is truly forgotten…I forgot how much I liked it until I watched a few days a go.

Extra Stills:




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Monday, June 29, 2009

Counting Down the Zeroes 2003: Open Range


You know the drill. Ibetolis of Film for the Soul is onto 2003, and I submitted this piece for his continuous look at the films of the noughties.

Kevin Costner's western is the best modern entry into the genre since Unforgiven; I actually think it’s better than Unforgiven. It’s a call back to the kind of western that Raoul Walsh would have made; a film that is conventional in plot, but unconventional in its execution of the plots action. The acting is superb, especially by the veteran Robert Duvall who owns this movie from beginning to end. What's even more interesting about Open Range is the detail that Costner puts into the film. Every nuance seems true, every seemingly simple artistic touch hits the right note, and there’s something warm and comforting about the pacing of the film and the antiquity in its aesthetic.

Costner is most interested in the theme of displacement and men in power positions telling those “beneath” them what to do with their live. There’s a great speech by Boss (Duvall) at the beginning of the film that sets the plot in motion. He and Charley (Costner) are free grazers who are looking at some men who roughed up their buddies and scared their herd away. They’re looking out at the great expanse when Boos says: “It’s a beautiful country. A man can get lost out here. Man can forget that people and things aren’t as simple as all of this.” It’s a great moment that foreshadows their decision to get into a war with the evil Baxter (Michael Gambon in a great villainous performance), the owner of a nearby that doesn’t take kindly to free grazers.

In another great speech by Boss he informs the townsfolk that he and Charley have no intention of hurting them, and as Boss stares right at the towns corrupt Marshal, he gives another great speech: “Losing cattle is one thing, but a man telling another man where to go in this country…well that just aint right.” And so begins Boss and Charley’s time in the town. They meet some friendly people: a feed store owner (played by the late great Michael Jeter, in a great supporting role), a nice woman that Charley has a fondness for named Sue (Annette Bening in a throw away role, but she’s good when she’s on screen), Sue’s brother Doc Barlow (Dean McDermott), and the corrupt Marshal played by James Russo. But all of these characters take a back seat to the relationship between Boss and Charley.

What makes this film better than your average Western is the amount of time and attention that is paid to the relationship between Boss and Charley. Boss is obviously a father figure to Charley, and it’s interesting to watch the way he handles him, almost reining him in at times, during certain situations. Charley is an ex-hired gun, a man who saw a lot of bad things and did even worse things during the Civil War. There’s a great moment when Charley tell Boss not to stand behind him, which leads to a nice quiet moment at night as the two look up at the stars and Boss just listens as Charley calmly tells him about his history as a professional killer.

The final shootout is an amazingly constructed and masterful piece of mise-en-scene. However, before the shootout there’s a great moment with Boss and Charley as they load their guns and prepare for the battle that’s about to occur. Now watch as Boss cedes authority to Charley as he begins to lay out for them what will most likely occur. Charley can pretty much see how things are going to go, where people will be, and how people will react; and Boss is almost scared of this version of Charley. The shootout that follows begins abruptly with a loud bang, getting the message across that these shootouts from the old west weren’t always drawn out exercises. What follows is moment after moment of meticulous execution of the town’s logistics as the camera sweeps in and out of corridors and buildings. The camera looks through all kinds of perspectives: high angle, low angle, dutch angles, through windows, down low shots obstructed by onlookers (as if we ourselves have been dropped into the action). It’s an amazing piece of filmmaking, and Costner’s control and restraint of the moment, his ability to change perspectives and show a lot of the action through long shots, proves what a great director he can be (forget for a moment The Postman and Waterworld).

The big shootout aside this is just a fabulous western that raises some interesting themes of displacement, and how “lesser” civilians are being discriminated against by those “higher authorities”. It’s also an interesting look at the ugliness of gun violence. Like Clint Eastwood’s masterful Unforgiven, Costner’s film also is interested in how loud, brusque, and altogether unpleasant gun violence is – especially in the old west. Costner shows the town as people who are not just bystanders watching the violence unfold, but as people who retreat to the hills to get away from what they know will tear their town up. There's a great scene where Charley and Boss are riding into town as most of the town is retreating up the hill to the church and Charley calmly states "they know a fights commin'".

I have read interviews where he talks about how Costner was not just interested in the loudness and abruptness of the violence caused by guns, but also how the towns where these shootouts occurred had to deal with this fact and try to live a normal life. He mentions in the same interview that he saw pictures where there were bodies everywhere; obviously someone had to remove those bodies, and he was interested in not making a John Wayne type western where the bodies just seemed to disappear, and then the town rejoices with piano and whiskey. Costner was more interested in showing how a town has to deal with the aftermath of a shootout, and what kind of closure does it really bring anyway?

Open Range is a great reminder just how powerful and affective the western can be while simultaneously being a great entertainment. There is great scene after great scene of classic western tropes, but above everything is Robert Duvall's performance as Boss. The way he tries to rehabilitate Charley into a functioning member of society is one of the most interesting things about the movie, and the conversations they have with each other and with Sue are sometimes more interesting than the action scenes. Watch Duvall deliver that speech in the tavern the first night they go into the town, or the concern he has for a dog floating down the street due to a flash flood, or the disdain in his voice when he tells Sue that Baxter’s men killed his dog. He is just so fun to watch in this role, and it's a shame he was never properly recognized for it. Yes, it's true the ending may go on a tad too long, but I didn't mind the stay too much because to say it plainly (which seems apt for this film): Open Range is a great, great movie...easily one of the best of 2003.

Extra Stills (I went a little crazy capturing images):




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Sunday, June 28, 2009

Miami Vice: Michael Mann's Misunderstood Masterpiece


This review was inspired by J.D. who is hosting the Michael Mann blog-a-thon over at his blog, the always brilliant and fun to read Radiator Heaven. It's going on all week, so head on over and take a look at all of the great entries as we head into the release of Mann's newest film Public Enemies.


There’s nothing more cliché than an action film about two cops who go undercover and infiltrate a drug cartel; and while undercover, one of the cops will no doubt get in too deep while the other cop can only question his partners commitment to the case. Such clichés are evident in almost all of Michael Mann’s films; however, he always sidesteps the banal inevitability of said clichés by taking a fresh look at the men who lead such lives through an introspective and microscopic lens. 2006 brought Miami Vice, a film popping with beautifully filmed colors, meticulously framed skylines, and, most importantly, the type of scrupulous itemization Mann loves to perform with his crimes films (just watch the way his characters create sing-songy dialogue with insider jargon). For Mann, it isn’t so much about the action, but about the “why” that these people are driven by and how they function in the world they live in. A lot of people find Mann’s brand of “action” films boring – too much exposition and long, lingering takes on unnecessary long shots – with not enough shoot ‘em up; I find them misunderstood, refreshing takes on tired genre tropes, and Miami Vice is one of the most misunderstood of all Mann’s films.


The film’s story seems like something off of the old TV show that the film shares its namesake with; however, that’s the only thing they share as Mann is doggedly determined to make this film a straight crime drama, not the campy TV-to-film adaptations that were all over the multiplexes in the mid-2000’s (Charlie’s Angels, Starsky and Hutch, Dukes of Hazard). I think that’s what fans wanted: a popcorn summer film, and Miami Vice, released in the heart of the summer blockbuster months (much like this years Public Enemies), was anything but what the fans were clamoring for (the film had a strong opening weekend, being the first film to unseat the sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean which has been atop the box office list for a month) wasn’t exactly what the masses were asking for: a talky, heavy-on-drama crime film with a middle 45 minutes that is trying.

The film was, however, a fine look at some of the boring old tropes found in these undercover cop thrillers. Collin Ferrell and Jaime Foxx do a great job of making these characters into fleshed out entities rather than 80’s pop caricatures, and Mann’s camera always finds something easy-on-the-eyes to settle on. Like most of Mann’s films it’s a test of one’s will power whether they can muster up the empathy for such morose, one-line spouting characters. Mann’s male characters are never that interesting when they’re speaking (exception: Al Pacino from Heat, but that’s because Pacino can’t play subtle the way Mann likes it), but what Mann does so well is let his camera linger on their weary eyes or he stays on two-shot just long enough for the audience to get a sense of what the characters are feeling; simply put: his characters are always interesting in the things they do. Think about James Caan’s thief (Thief), or Pacino’s television producer (The Insider), Cruise’s hitman (Collateral), or DeNiro’s criminal who falls in love and breaks his own rule about women mixing with “the job” (Heat) – they’re all interesting because they love what they do and they do it with an unremitting passion (Pacino’s cop from Heat is another example).

Mann’s men are also always conflicted. Often times they let themselves forget what they’re intent is, or they don’t realize how their passion to see something through will hurt those they love; and sometimes they’re so passionate about those they love, they don’t care about their job. That is the case with Foxx’s Rico, the more level-headed cop (Ferrell’s Sonny is more of the “act first” kind of guy) who is troubled by their latest covert operation. His girlfriend Trudy (another cop on the force played by Naomi Harris) is being watched by those they plan to do business with, and even though Rico convinces her that if they trace their names all they’re going to get is their fake histories, she doesn’t seem at ease. And this small scene, with Rico and Trudy talking in a diner, is one of the great moments of Miami Vice. It shows Mann’s interest in talking about the things that these people would talk about. Rico says to Trudy that “even if they find something, they’ll just find more layers of out fabricated lives.”

Mann broaches the idea that these men, who have real relationships, can never lead real lives, therefore ruining all of their very real relationships and hurting the ones they love. Rico and Sonny will never have a normal life – once you’re undercover and creating these fabrications it would seem impossible to be able to emerge “normal” out of a career being someone else – but they try during their brief run to take down a major Colombian drug czar. By the end of the film while Trudy sits in a hospital bed, Rico turns more sour on his vocation, proclaiming that he doesn’t care if Trudy dies for the “cause”, the cause is “bullshit” as Rico says, and even though Sonny tries to ease his mind by countering with “is that what Trudy would say?” Rico shoots him down: “No, that’s what I say.” Things have become all-too-real for Rico, and it has all happened while leading this fabricated life; playing pretend as it were.

Sonny is quite different from Rico – he always seems to be teetering between “knowing what he’s doing” and “getting in too deep”. His relationship with Isabel (Gong Li) is a perfect example of the high wire act these undercover agents play out on a daily basis. What I liked about their relationship is that you’re never quite sure who is playing whom and after a while you being to believe that they really love each other, and, in the ultimate bit of irony and pathos, you realize they would have been happy in another life. And that “other” life is always prevalent in Mann’s film – it’s always the carrot that dangles in front of the protagonist, and it’s one of the subjects Mann likes to explore in great depth, making his films always seem more interesting than the others that tackle the same material.

Like Mann’s previous film Collateral, Miami Vice was primarily shot using the Thompson Viper Filmstream camera which creates amazingly beautiful nightscapes that pop (especially on Blu-Ray) and the scenes’ beauty are captured in a way that film just can’t compare. The rest of the film was shot on 35mm, but it’s the digital moments that make this movie’s aesthetic something to behold. Digital gives you a sense of urgency -- something palpable. It's also just really damn nice to look at. Mann's films always have a sexy swagger about them, and Miami Vice is teeming with style; but, unlike the films of say Tony Scott (whose films also have a visual swagger about them), there's a lot of substance buried beneath a Mann film. He always knows where to frame the camera, and like the aforementioned Collateral and The Insider, he uses snap zooms and shaky-cam to great, emotional effect. This film is always jaw-droppingly beautiful, and even in the soggy middle, still just a joy and a feast for the eyes. There's also two great action scenes towards the end of the film. They're unconventional in their execution because Mann opts to go for the more realistic approach, the action is quick, over in an instant because that's they way it would be with professionals doing the job. There's also a shoot-out at the very end that rivals the one from Heat (in quality not in quantity), it's perfectly blocked and the sound is just fantastic throughout the scene, placing the viewer in the moment. It's really an inspired shoot-out scene, and it's what Mann does best: arty action.

I think Miami Vice is one of Mann’s most misunderstood and underappreciated films. It has a rich aesthetic with beautiful, bright colors that are always interesting to look at, but also serve a purpose in foreshadowing the narrative and speaking for the characters. Much like another American masters, visual poet Terrance Malick, Mann is a master at letting the visuals act as the poetics; he allows them to evoke the themes, emotions, and feelings, an onus that usually falls on the actors, but with Mann’s films he almost always wants his main characters to be enigmas, people who say little and speak with their actions. At the end of Miami Vice before the big bust Rico asks Sonny if he is prepared for what’s going to happen (the bust signifies the end of Sonny’s “playtime” with Isabel) and wonders if his partner’s head is in it. Sonny replies with brutal honesty: “I am most certainly not ready.” A line that means he is indeed going to go through with it all and that his partner can trust him to do the right thing.

Most action films don’t stop for these moments of dialogue, but this little exchange at the end of the film says a lot about the characters and they kinds of films Mann is interested in making. Mann reminds me a lot of French New Wave master Jean-Pierre Melville, another director who loved the crime genre, but rarely was interested in the crime itself. Like Melville, Mann loves to create action scenes that are more about the nuances instead of trumped up action clichés. Mann's films have an uncanny ability to be simultaneously grounded in realism (the action scenes in this film), scenes that are palpable in their intimacy (look at the scenes quieter scenes between Sonny and Isabel, especially their "courting" process and specifically their scenes in Havana), but are also poetically striking; ethereal moments that leave you in awe of their visual splendor all while watching something that seems so capital r Real.

Miami Vice may have just been released at the wrong time of the year. Mass audiences wanted something more along the lines of Lethal Weapon or Bad Boys mixed with the campy, faux-serious nature of the original television show. They wanted to see the neon blazers, 80’s hair, and flamingos; but instead, Mann delivers one of his best films, and had the film been entitled something different, the populace might agree. It’s not as taut or interesting as The Insider, or as crisp and exhilarating as Collateral, but it certainly ranks as one of his deepest, and most existential looks into the subject he loves to delve into, and it stands as my favorite crime film Mann has made (yes, better than Heat).


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Wednesday, June 24, 2009

What the bloody hell?

Me too Shauna...me too.

No...this isn't a rant against the Academy Awards expanding from five nominations for best picture to ten. No, I figured I'd take this opportunity to rant about something else that may be news to some, but came as a surprise to me. In my usual random web searching I decided to see when The Descent, one of the best horror films ever made, was released, and to my shock and horror I found that there is a sequel set to be released in September. The above still is one of a handful of images that has been released in promotion for the new film. Ugh, I feel like screaming, too. Complaints after the jump...

Okay...did the filmmakers think that fans of the movie didn't see the original British version of the movie on DVD? A version, although ambiguous, made a great case for the fact that Sarah didn't make it out alive (The U.S. version ends with her "escape" whereas the U.K. version cuts back to reality and Sarah in the cave with no exit in sight). Also, on the IMDB page they show that the character of Juno is once again in the film. In case you forgot she was left to be eaten by the "crawlers"...so does this suggest then that the whole thing was in her head, that the allusion to the idea that the caves can play tricks on you is actually what happened? But then how do they explain the fact that they are bringing the "crawlers" back in the sequel, and supposedly they have evolved further and can fly now. Double ugh.

Neil Marshall's name is nowhere near this film, and I'm wondering why Shauna MacDonald agreed to do the film again. This will be a disaster if they just do a straight horror. And based on the plot synopsis, and the early images that were released, the film looks like it's just going to be a rehash of the first film: Sarah is rescued, she goes to a hospital, goes back down in the cave to save her friends who are apparently still alive. Again, this all suggests that the "crawlers" were indeed figments of their imaginations (especially Sarah who is a grieving mother and widow, and hints at the fact, early on in the film, that she may not be ready to move on with her life), but if that is the case, and the sequel is primarily psychological horror, then why the need to bring back the "crawlers"? And why make them so visible? They were more or less shadow creatures in the first film, and they came into the plot at a point where the characters would most likely have started hallucinating. The best part of the original is the reading that they all killed each other and imagined the "crawlers". The idea of a sequel with the same characters and the same scenario makes no sense.

I guess one could chalk this up to flattery through imitation, but man this is going to be rough to sit through with an open mind...because yes, I will see it, just like I do with any horror film or any sequel to a film I love. However, this has "bad idea" written all over it. The logic seems all over the place here as they seem to be disregarding any kind of psychological aspect that was clearly at the forefront of Marshall's film; and the fact that they're asking the audience to disregard the darker, nihilistic ending of the original is already putting the sequel in a pretty big hole. The power and poignancy of that final image of Sarah looking at her daughter, then as the camera pulls back they show Sarah looking at nothing (suggesting everything was in her head), is neutered now because of this unnecessary sequel.

And it's not like I'm anti-sequel, I just don't understand the logic in making a sequel to a movie where they totally disregard the elements of narrative that made the original so creepy. Perhaps this will be like what Aliens was to Alien, a pedal-to-the-floor action/horror hybrid that was all kinds of entertaining goodness...who knows, but it'll have to be pretty damn intense and impressive to make me forget about the fact that they're pretty much disregarding the end of the original film.

I don't know...maybe I'm too much of a fan of the original to think anything good can come out of the sequel, but it just seems altogether superfluous. Oh well...I guess more thoughts on this in September. This makes me want to find an old essay I wrote in college (published no less!) about the state of horror films...I guess we horror fans, and fans of the original film, play the waiting game.


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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

My Top 10: 2002


Ibetolis of the brilliant Film for the Soul has added another fun feature to his massive "Counting Down the Zeroes" project. It's simple: just click the links above or go here to "My Top 10" on the man's blog and submit your top 10 list.

Late last month I pointed you all towards the above links in hopes that you would submit your top 10 lists on Ibetolis' blog. Well, he's wrapped-up another successful year in 2002, and as we head into 2003 he;s once again asking all of us to submit our top 10 lists. Click here and submit your list in the comments section and Ibetolis will archive it on the Top 10 blog. Onto the list...

Looking at my list of films 2002 was another American-heavy year on my list. It was also a year that had two great films by Spielberg (perhaps the most unfairly scrutinized filmmaker in a long while...being popular gets you hated I guess), and contributions to the list from great filmmakers like: Paul Schrader, Paul Thomas Anderson, Spike Jonze, Steven Soderbergh, and Martin Scorsese. Not too shabby.

The best film of the year for me was Paul Schrader's masterful biopic about the sex-obsessed life of Hogan's Heroes star Bob Crane, Auto Focus. It reminded me of some of the best work the man has previously done in his career: American Gigolo, Taxi Driver (as a screenwriter), Affliction, and Bringing Out the Dead (again as a screenwriter). I have always been fascinated by Schrader's own obsession with themes about men who are so narrow minded and controlled by their desires that they spiral out of control. Their slavish duties to their personal yens create fantastically interesting cinema, and Schrader is among the best in the biz at showcasing these kinds of male-centric stories. Auto Focus is perhaps Schrader's greats film as a director.

Spielberg pops up twice on the list -- perhaps the first and only time a director has appeared twice on a best of list -- first is Minority Report, a brilliant neo-noir that has some of the most beautiful shots I've seen in any noir picture. It's a fantastic ride, and the story unfolds at a brisk clip, and actually makes a lot of sense. Adapted from the Philip K. Dick novel, it rivals another Dick adaptation, Blade Runner, as being one of the best noir/sci-fi hybrids ever made. The other Spielberg on the list is his super-fun, and super-glossy Catch Me if You Can. An infectiously fun film with some great performances by Leonardo DiCaprio (who like Spielberg had two great films released in 2002, the other being Scorsese's Gangs of New York) and Tom Hanks who enjoys playing the East Coast G-man out to get DiCaprio's con man. The chase is a lot of fun and reminded me of films like North by Northwest and Charade, other "thrillers" that were all about the relentlessness of a chase. Catch Me if You Can also has one of the most fantastic credit sequences I've seen in any film.

City of God and Russian Ark are the only foreign films to make the list this year. City of God reminded me of a Brazilian Goodfellas as it has every kind of post-production trick in the book brusquely pushing the viewer through relentless scene after relentless scene. It was definitely one of the more interesting films of the year, and showed an interesting, darker side of Rio. Russian Ark is famous of course for being one continuous shot. It finds its way on the list for the sheer audaciousness of such a feat...and the film isn't half bad, either.

Punch-Drunk Love at one time would have been tops on the list, but I find myself coming back to some of the other films more often than Paul Thomas Anderson's sweet and bizarre romantic comedy. Adam Sandler proves that there's something in there lurking...maybe not a great actor, but an interesting one; and Anderson always makes us interested in Sandler's Barry. He's an odd duck, but Sandler plays him as something more than just a misunderstood soul...there's nuances to the performance that just make you shake your head and think "what has Sandler been hiding from us all these years." It's about as dark, strange, and otherworldly a romantic comedy can get -- but those scenes in Hawaii -- let me tell ya: pure cinematic poetry.

Charlie Kaufman's best film Adaptation. was also, sadly, the last film Spike Jonze directed (until this years much anticipated Fall release of Where the Wild Things Are). This is also one of Nicolas Cage's best performance as twin Kaufman brothers who must write a screenplay for an adaptation of a popular book penned by Meryl Streep's character. The amazing thing about the film is not just about the astute commentary on all of the "how to" workshops offered in Hollywood (although, the scenes with Brian Cox are some of the funniest, and most pointed bits of satire I've seen), but as it progresses it evolves into a meta-film of monumental proportions. It's one of the best examples of Kaufman's obsession with postmodern cinema, and it's easily his finest work. Jonze has a lot of fun too turning the film into all of the cliches that Cage's character relies on to burst through his writers block.

Todd Haynes' Far From Heaven was a wonderfully constructed call back to the melodramas of Douglas Sirk. I cannot add anything that my friend Sam Juliano hasn't said better --- after all, he saw it 21 times in the theater! Click here to read his thoughts on the film. It's definitely one of the most beautiful looking films of the 2000's.

One of the biggest films of the year was also one of the most entertaining. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was the last time Harry and friends would be so innocent and squeaky clean. It has all of the fun elements of a film like The Wizard of Oz: meaning that it's both childish in delight and still contains a bit of bite with its darker elements. This is my favorite Potter picture as it was the last time any remnants of joy seeped through the darker elements of the story -- you know, before every Potter film became The Empire Strikes Back.

I always try to include one comedy on my list, and one of my favorite in all of the 2000's was Jake Kasdan's brilliantly funny Orange County. I am a lover of writing, and literature, so naturally the protagonist journey was one that was appealing to me. And when he finally gets to Stanford and meets his mentor, it's one of the warmest scenes of the year. Jack Black also proves with this film (and 2000's High Fidelity) that he's best used in small does. I'll never stop quoting the line: "I didn't go to college, and look at me, I'm kick ass."

Here's the list with the honorable mentions:

1.) Auto Focus (Paul Schrader)
2.) Minority Report (Steven Spielberg)
3.) City of God (Fernando Meirelles)
4.) Punch-Drunk Love (Paul Thomas Anderson)
5.) Adaptation. (Spike Jonze)
6.) Far From Heaven (Todd Haynes)
7.) Catch Me if You Can (Steven Spielberg)
8.) Russian Ark (Aleksandr Sokurov)
9.) Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Chris Columbus)
10.) Orange County (Jake Kasdan)

Honorable Mentions:

About a Boy, Changing Lanes, Femme Fatale, Gangs of New York, Solaris, Talk to Her, Whale Rider.


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Goodbye Solo: A Beautiful Marriage of Minimalism and Melodrama


Two men look at each other. They stare, not needing to say a word. They both know what will happen, and so does the audience. Moments like this one are rare in films, but somehow Ramin Bahrani has created a film where there are multiple instances like this one – where the viewer is allowed to have the scene wash over them, instead of being bludgeoned over the head with the themes the filmmaker wishes to convey. The film is Goodbye Solo, and it’s not just a masterpiece in minimalism, melodrama, and subdued filmmaking; it’s a masterpiece of cinema, a rare film that transcends its simplistic indie aesthetics (although simplistic, the seemingly non existent élan of this film is more impressive than most films that try to be indie and arty) and elates the viewer placing them in the most wonderful of contemplative reveries.

I’m new to Bahrani, so although I understand that his previous films Chop Shop and Man Push Cart are indebted to the neo-realist movement, I cannot say for sure what specific moments of those films may or may not be alluded to in Goodbye Solo. All I know is that I immediately bumped the aforementioned films to the top of the Netflix queue. Goodbye Solo doesn’t feel so much neo-realist (it’s not driven by the everyday occurrences of its characters; and it’s definitely driven by a melodramatic plot) as it just feels real and natural; a perfect (and masterful) marriage of minimalism and melodrama. Bahrani loves to let the camera linger on his subjects so that we may ponder the existential dilemmas they face. It’s rare to see a filmmaker in the 21st century with such patience.

The story is a simple one: We being the film in medias res in Winston-Salem, NC as Solo (Souleymane Sy Savane), a cab driver from Senegal, is laughing at something his passenger William (Red West) has told him. We come to find out that the specific bit of conversation that makes Solo guffaw is that William has propositioned Solo with a task that at first seems like William is just having a bad day, but as Solo begins to integrate himself in William’s life, sees that the man is deathly serious. The proposition is that William will pay Solo 1,000 dollars to drive him to Blowing Rock National Park where he will jump off the cliff and kill himself. If you think I just disclosed a valuable piece of the puzzle to this mystery I’m afraid you’re mistaken, and perhaps when you see the film (and you should see it) it will stretch you in ways no other film to this point. What I mean is that there is nothing conventional going on here. Bahrani is not interested in the mystery of whether William will kill himself, because William never speaks of needing a return cab ride from Solo, and once Solo attempts to befriend William and become his personal driver, he begins to see the William checking off the final entries on his itinerary: closing bank accounts, giving away personal items, etc.

Yes, Solo does befriend William, and yes they share some moments together that supply a brief reprise from the unavoidable tragic end Solo must usher William towards. However, that does not make the film depressing. One of my favorite adages Ebert created was: “no good film is depressing, only bad ones.” And indeed this film elevates you to another cinematic plane. I was reminded of Mike Figgis’ Leaving Las Vegas, another film about a man determined to kill himself only to be momentarily interrupted by a caring, refreshingly human soul. The two characters in that film, Ben and Sera, share a lot of behavioral similarities with William and Solo. The simplicity and subtlety of the film also reminded me of one of my favorite films from last year Wendy and Lucy. In that film there is also a refined, subdued aesthetic that draws attention to the long takes of peoples faces – moments where the audience can read the eyes of the characters, and long after a scene is over, the camera lingers just a little bit longer so that we may contemplate the events that have just unfolded.

During their friendship we’re let into Solo’s life as he is married with a child on the way and a brilliant step-daughter, Alex. She’s smart for her age, but she’s not one of those too-cute child actors who exists only as a plot contrivance, she brings a sweetness and innocence (even though she’s smart, the film is realistic in the sense that she doesn’t know everything) into Solo and William’s relationship that cuts through sadness. Her relationship with Solo, again, seems born out of reality. These scenes remind me of something out of a David Gordon Green film (who like Bahrani is a native of North Carolina): This all just seems right…this IS how these people would talk, react, and live their life. Solo is having some trouble, though. His wife doesn’t want him to interview for a flight attendants position because she doesn’t want him to be out of state with a baby on the way. He claims that she only wants him to try her plan, and that she doesn’t trust him with his plan. They decide to take a break, and throughout this process Solo becomes more and more interested in William.

The film is not about what Solo will do for William, and it’s not about William’s decision to kill himself. Sure, there are secrets revealed and epiphianic moments throughout their short friendship, but it’s more about how Solo changes, not how he tries to convince William to not go through with it all. Like Sera in Leaving Las Vegas, the film was always about what Ben did for her. As she looks into the camera at the end of that film and looks straight at the audience, you see a changed person, an individual who has done some soul searching, and – compared to who she was at the beginning of the film – is somewhat healed. So too does Solo change. As he looks at Red in those long takes Bahrani loves, we see a man who sees himself in Red. This is what he’ll become if he does not take seriously his family obligations. It’s not enough just to love them, and as he looks at William, knowing one of his big secrets, we see in Solo’s eyes that he will not allow himself to make the same mistakes.

Bahrani wisely metes out crucial pieces of information sparingly. Never once does he go for one big over-the-top melodramatic moment; rather, he lets the events unfold naturally. In a crucial scene towards the end of the film watch the way Savane as Solo plays the scene. Nothing is overdone, and we see a man who lives his life with a carefree attitude, who we see at the beginning of the film heartily, and genuinely, laughing with pleasure at life, evolve into someone who has a better understanding of life’s responsibilities.

The acting here is phenomenal, and not just by Savane, but by the old veteran Red West, too. Here’s a man who looks like something out of an old oater. I was reminded of the great actor Richard Farnsworth while watching him. He plays William as a man who isn’t necessarily opposed to Solo’s prodding, just as long as he doesn’t go too deep. “I don’t give a shit” is a favorite phrase of William’s, and I assume it would be the favorite saying for a man who plans to kill himself in 10 days. West plays Williams, though, as a man who has a deeper reasoning for the things he does and the places he frequents before his final cab ride, and he also seems to be a man who has a deeper reasoning for not wanting Solo, or his step-daughter Alexis, around too often.

The ending is about as perfect as an ending can be. Bahrani lets silence drive the end of his film, and when Solo and William just stare at each other, we thank Bahrani for not ruining the scene with unnecessary exposition. There’s a scene where Solo looks out over a viewpoint that is caked in fog, and as Solo looks out on the vast expanse of nothingness, I was reminded of the scene from Jim Jarmusch’s Stranger Than Paradise where the three characters, who are also on a journey of sorts, also come across a viewpoint of nothingness. It’s a powerful, contemplative moment, and like Jarmusch, Bahrani lets the gusts of wind be the only sound the audience hears during this pivotal moment.

Since I’m so late to the Bahrani bandwagon it shouldn’t shock anyone when I say he is clearly one of the leaders of the new wave of filmmaking; he’s someone who makes honest films in dishonest times, and even though they may be based in neo-realism, his films actually succeed where most neo-realist films fail: they place you in a specific place without having to feel the onus of reality; in other words I could see myself watching this film numerous times without it ever feeling stale (and let’s face it, some neo-realist work feels stale after awhile). There’s a subtle aesthetic at work in Bahrani’s film, an entity that deceives you into thinking that everything looks “easy”; but, everything Bahrani and his actors do in Goodbye Solo is extremely difficult and rarely found in modern films. You just don’t run across films like this very often. It’s easily one of the best films of 2009.


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