Review: "This is England"

A less insightful critique would label writer/director Shane Meadows' autobiographical film "This is England" (2006) as merely "English History X", but it is far more than that. The similarities are present, insofar as it is a skinhead-coming-of-age picture. 

12-year-old Shaun (stellar newcomer Thomas Turgoose) has recently lost his father in the Falklands War. He wears bell-bottom pants that his father gave him, and is bullied for it at school. Being this is northern England circa 1983, he soon falls in with a group of older skinhead kids, whose friendliness greatly raises his self-esteem. This lonely adolescent finally has a clique to hang with; what follows (a shaved head and so on) is just a part of it and feels harmless enough. 

Shaun and his new friends run and frolic through rundown suburban England, and a care-free time is had by all, until the gang's former leader, Combo (pictured), returns from prison. Lines are drawn, and the "real" skinheads emerge. Brought to explosive, charismatic life by Liverpudlian actor Stephen Graham, Combo is a frighteningly real yet altogether otherworldly and unholy creation, a malevolent force to rival Heath Ledger's Joker or Daniel Day-Lewis' Bill the Butcher. 

Combo takes an immediate liking to Shaun, in whom he sees a younger version of himself. They seem made for each other; Shaun sees a father figure, and Combo is drawn to the boy's unadulterated, bully-induced rage and, probably, his moldable mind. It really is quite terrifying watching young Shaun slip obliviously into the depth of racism. Just the way "Paki bastard" bounds out of his mouth is horrifying, primarily because it is merely blind, child imitation. 

Meadows appears to have quite a talent for crafting realistic scenes that are alternately tight and loose. The camera never calls attention to itself, and it shouldn't; this is an actors showcase. Witness nonactor Turgoose perform beyond most of the ensemble. His Shaun is a witty, angry and precocious kid careening toward manhood. He is defined equally by his temper and his insightful wit. In one scene he will unflinchingly engage Combo in fisticuffs, while in the next he will shoot off lines like, "What are you giving her porn for? She has her own nipples." It is a wise and surprising performance, especially from a 13-year-old novice thespian. The only one who comes close is Graham as Combo. 

"This is England" is a brilliant film, which is at once soul-crushing and charmingly hilarious. See it and glimpse the dark side of The Clash's England. 

Review: "Frozen River"

"Frozen River" (2008) is the debut film from writer/director Courtney Hunt. It is a beaten-down tale of two working class mothers who turn to illegal immigrant smuggling to make ends meet when their men leave them (one through death, the other through a gambling addiction).

Ray (Melissa Leo, subtle, heartbreakingly convincing, and Oscar-nominated) has two dependent sons and an impending payment for a double wide (this is the American Dream, right? A double wide?). Her gambling-addicted husband has recently run off with a big chunk of their money when the film starts, and he never shows up again. Ray finds his abandon car at a Native American bingo hall, where she meets Lila (a fiery Misty Upham), a Mohawk woman who's involved in smuggling illegals through her tribe's territory, which straddles the US-Canada border. it is a chance encounter that sends both women down a life-altering path.

Set as it is at the northern border, this is a film about people pushed to the edge of the American experience, both geographically and regarding quality-of-life. Ray and her kids routinely have nothing more than popcorn and tang for dinner, and everyone lives in trailers. Everything is frozen. 

The cinematography is sparse and documentary-like, perfectly capturing and complimenting the desolate snowscape. The performances are uniformly superb, but not showy. Hunt clearly knows this desperate world and it's denizens well, and she knows how to let her actors act. 

"Frozen River" is not without flaws. being a debut, perhaps this is understandable. The story descends into melodrama towards the end, and there are some minor screen direction issues (I'll admit, this second item is nitpicking on my part). Overall, however, it is a worthwhile filmgoing experience, if you appreciate fine acting, and authentic American stories. 

Review: "Killer of Sheep"

"Killer of Sheep" (1977) was writer/director Charles Burnett's Master of Fine Arts thesis at UCLA's film school, and it is perhaps the grandest student film ever. Filmed on weekends for two years on location in the Watt's region of Southern Los Angeles, it initially smacks of the urban man's response to "The Last Picture Show" (1971), what with it's black-and-white depiction of bored American existential quandary. It is, however, it's own film. 

Burnett knows intimately the world he lays bare here. Gaggles of children run and play amongst the city's decaying infrastructure, while the adults are either stupid, brutal, or, in the case of Stan (Henry G. Sanders), depressed and contemplative. 

There is no tangible plot, but, of course, there is not meant to be. We are simply shown moments in the every days of these people, and from this tapestry we glean some kind of meaning. This inherent and full-bodied understanding of cinema is rare, least ways on display in a director's first feature. 

The real world history of this film is somewhat storied. Completed in 1975 and first shown publicly in 1977, it was held up in legal tanglings for 30 years until the rights to the music could be purchased, and it was worth the wait. As with most great films, the juxtaposition of music and images is it's best element. The score is all pop and blues songs, the most effective being "This Bitter Earth", sung gloriously by Dinah Washington. It is first used when Stan dances with his wife, and it shows up again against images of Stan in the titular profession. Indeed, it is clear that the mechanized slaughtering of sheep is meant to be some kind of metaphor. The film will cut directly from crowded sheep milling about mindlessly right to a group of children giggling and play-fighting. 

Aside from some (rather endearing) sound and editing stumbles (this is a student film), "Killer of Sheep" is something quite marvelous. Original, thoughtful, meditative, wry and original, it has landed at our 21st century feet like a cinematic time capsule from childhood neighbors we saw but never met. 

Review: Irreversible

Irreversible (2002) is a remarkable, expertly crafted, beautifully tragic film by writer/director Gaspar Noé. It is the story of lovers Alex (the glorious Monica Bellucci) and Marcus (Vincent Cassel, animalistic and unhinged), and the urchins of society that they encounter one night by happenstance. Unfolding in reverse, it could be considered France's answer to Memento (2000).

One aspect that viewers will notice immediately is the nearly nonstop camera. This may leave the audience feeling nauseous at first, but it becomes more relaxed as the film progresses (or regresses). The first half hour or so may be disorienting and claustrophobic, but as we slip further into the past, things become steadier and more pleasant. 

The wandering camera is indeed a character unto itself, spiraling up, over, and around the actors to create a truly visceral and cinematic experience. The entire film is meant to look like one continuous, fluid shot, and this effect is pulled off wonderfully, without even an ounce of obvious pretension. It is dizzyingly chaotic in the opening scene, but the camera quickly finds a comfortable groove. 

The plot of Irreversible cannot be discussed in detail without spoiling things. Discovering who these people are and how they come to do what they do is a big part of this cinematic experience. 

It should be mentioned that there is a very graphic murder within the film's initial ten minutes (the end of the story). It is so graphic, in fact, that this reviewer (who doesn't flinch when faced with Saving Private Ryan or Schindler's List) was forced to look away. Working backwards from this point, we are gradually shown the incidents that lead up to this crime. Also, be forewarned that nearly halfway through there happens a punishingly protracted scene of rape.

Though you may be disgusted at first, stay with this film to the end. You will be glad you did.

Review: "Deja Vu"

"Deja Vu" (2006) is the third collaboration between leading man Denzel Washington and director Tony Scott (bother of Ridley). Washington (bringing his usual free-floating, dogged charisma) is an ATF agent investigating a terrorist attack on a ferry in New Orleans. He is quickly recruited, rather informally, by an experimental government agency that, through the use of many satellites, is able to look at anything that happened in the city exactly 12 hours and 4 days previous. They intend to use this technology to catch the perpetrator of the ferry attack. One drawback, however, is that they cannot rewind or record this sophisticated surveillance image (no viable explanation is given for this quite obvious dramatic devise, nor is it explained why they can only look at one thing at a time. Lazy writing on the part of Bill Marsilii and Terry Rossio, the screenwriters [seeing as the latter's previous credits include the Pirates of the Caribbean films and 1998's atrocious Godzilla remake, I suppose this is not a surprise]). As such, the team (Washington is joined by Adam Goldberg and a criminally underused Val Kilmer) spends much of the first two thirds of the film spying on the last moments of Claire Kuchever (Paula Patton), a woman who washed up burned and dead mysteriously up stream from the exploded ferry. 

Scott is a capable enough director; while not an auteur by any means, he knows how to let actors act, and he can set a scene realistically and entertainingly. But where his films usually suffer (and this one is no exception) is in the editing; there are too many unnecessary cuts and unhinged camera moves. I suppose in this case it is meant to distract from some of the plot holes and dumb science, but it makes for an unwieldy and unfocused cinematic experience. It is hard to tell if Tony Scott truly lacks clear vision as a filmmaker, or if his craft is being buried in over-editing. Given his long career of similarly edited films, I'm guessing the former. An average shot length of 2 seconds coupled with too many uncalled for camera angles are the mark of a director who is bereft of cinematic confidence. 

"Deja Vu" is very surface. It floats along pleasantly and stylishly enough, and it's fun if you try not to think about it too much, or if you get some friends together and use it as drinking game fodder.  Denzel carries the whole adventure firmly and solely upon his shoulders, and he is more than capable. 

The final third of the film slips surprisingly casually into a full out time travel picture, and it's enjoyable, if a bit derivative and simple. Sending characters back in time is always tricky, especially if you want the audience to take the whole premise seriously. Time travel being of course strictly theoretical in the real world, there are two or three fictional conventions that one must choose from and then adhere to. There is the divergent timeline, wherein our hero goes back in time and creates an alternate timeline through his actions. Then there is the predestination paradox, wherein our temporal sojourner is meant to go back in time and cause something that has already happened (see "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban"). This film seems to osculate between the two, which is not acceptable. Time travel enthusiasts will be irritated, and the uninitiated will be confused. Note to filmmakers (and storytellers in general): if your story involves time travel, commit to it, and please know what you are getting yourself into. 

Mini-Review/Discovery: "Signs" (short)

I don't know what this is exactly or how it came about, but it proves that silent cinema is not dead. Yes, there are sound effects and some incidental dialogue, but what tell the story are the visuals. Everything we need to know is shown to us. We know exactly who this guy is as soon as we see him.

Another thing that makes the film so great is that it could take place in just about any city in the world. The story and themes are universal.

Though evidently filmed very recently, "Signs" recalls the earliest days of cinema. It is a Chaplinesque tale of trying to find happiness in the big, bad world. Our morose hero is like The Tramp squeezed into a cubical.

I must admit that, upon initial viewing, I was half convinced that this beautiful little short would turn out to only be an elaborate commercial. I suppose this is just residue from watching expensively produced Super Bowl ads this past weekend, but I was afraid that someone was going to crack open a Pepsi and smile at this camera.

Upon further consideration, I come to the realization that the only place in mainstream entertainment where essentially silent cinema persists is television advertising. It's kind of sad. I wonder now if there could be a resurgence of silent movies. Commercials, along with music videos I suppose, have acclimated a new generation to wordless, visual story telling.

I am going to track down the makers of this picture and return with more info.

Review: Blood Simple.

Blood Simple. (1984) is the very first film by the prolific and talented filmmaking entity known as the Coen Brothers. It sets the framework for just about every film they have made hence, both cinematically and story-wise. 

The story is the sort that has become the Coens' trademark; it is a simple tale that becomes complicated by misunderstanding and the inherent stupidity of the central characters. Ray (John Getz) and Abby (Frances McDormand, the quiet, sane center of the picture) are lovers, but Abby is married to Marty (Dan Hedaya, menacing and slightly Nixonesque), Ray's boss, who wants them dead, and hires a private eye (M. Emmett Walsh, in a role that would define his career) to off them. Some hesitation and panicking later, the wrong people are dead and things begin to spin gloriously off the rails.

Though made on a small budget by new filmmakers, Blood Simple. is masterfully shot and cut. The Coens show us only what needs be seen to tell the story. This is narrative filmmaking in it's purest form. The screen is dripping with dynamically lit close ups and insert shots. The virtuosity and economy of the cinematography and editing should be studied by any filmmaker, both aspirant and veteran.  

Blood Simple. is like a Tom Waits song. It bases it's universe around the down and out, the muling, simple creature of the American West, just trying to make sense of a very confusing world. 

Not about movies, but important

Neko Case is very concerned about animals. The critically acclaimed singer and songwriter, whose last album Fox Confessor Brings the Flood has sold more than 200,000 copies in the U.S., informed us that she and her record label, ANTI-,would donate $5 for every blog that posts the song and $1 for every time a user of iLike adds the song to his or her profile. 

Her new album (pictured) comes out in March.

Review: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008) is the thinking man's Forrest Gump (indeed, the two films were penned by the same screenwriter, Eric Roth). It is a quietly tragic tale of one man's very unique journey through the 20th Century. 

Directed to near perfection by David Fincher, the film is not only a well crafted fairy tale, but also a meditation on age and the unrelenting passage of time. Based upon a story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Button follows the titular character from his birth as an elderly infant on through to his death in a similar state. This breadth of material explains the film's near 3-hour running time, and causes things to become a bit unwieldy now and then. There is a framing gimmick involving Daisy (Benjamin's love interest, played by Cate Blanchett with her usual elfin grace) upon her death bed, recounting to her daughter the tale of Benjamin Button. This element wouldn't be so bothersome if it didn't cut into the proper film so much; each time it does, it's like cold water dowsing a soothing flame. Apart from this, the film is nearly flawless.

Conjured with the same meticulous beauty as most other Fincher films, Button crafts a golden vision of the 20th century that is both nostalgic and authentically real. The camera lingers on just the right detail at just the right time; a character's expression or the cresting sunrise. The cinematography is immaculate and delicious. 

Paramount among the films qualities, however, is the acting. Taraji P. Henson brings just the right amount of tenderness and wisdom to the role of Queenie, Benjamin's surrogate mother, to keep it from lapsing into caricature. Tilda Swinton is watchable as always as a British aristocrat who carries on a short affair with Benjamin. 

On parallel double duty are Cate Blanchett and Brad Pitt as fated lovers Daisy and Benjamin. This is their film; all other players, while skillful, are here only to shepherd these two through the story.

This film displays some of the finest age work in the history of cinema. The practical make up is subtle and convincing, but more importantly the performances are spot on. Blanchett especially manages to capture decrepit old age surprisingly well for a woman of only 39; her eyes take on just the right kind of weariness, her voice is wise and aching to just the right degree. She takes Daisy on a bittersweet journey from young adulthood to middle age right on through to death's door. 

Similarly, Brad Pitt gives maybe his greatest (definitely his subtlest) performance. He is tasked with first giving a digital performance for the film's initial third. Much akin to the method that brought Gollum to life in The Lord of the Rings, Pitt had his face recorded by a computer and then pasted onto older and shorter actors to realize Benjamin as an elderly looking child. This might be the finest example yet of this very new technique, and it is very much the focus of first part of the film. But once Pitt takes on full acting responsibilities, providing not only his face but this whole, real body, Benjamin becomes the quiet little center that the noisy universe of the film revolves around. Pitt's work in this film confirms what I've suspected for awhile - that he is in fact a character actor in a leading man's body. 

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is cinematically melodic. It is not only the thinking man's Forrest Gump, it is the anti-Gump. 

Review: "3:10 to Yuma" (2007)

"3:10 to Yuma" (2007) might be the first real 21st-century Western. The performances are complex and pathological, the production design is gritty and realistic, and the cinematography is artistically kinetic. Granted, it is not the first Western to be made this century, but it feels like the first of it's ilk that is indicative of 00's film making. 

It should be noted that I have never seen the original "3:10 to Yuma" (1957), so if you are looking for a comparison of the two films, this is not the place. The modern film is based not only on the 1957 screenplay, but also upon the 1953 short story. 

Dan Evans (Christian Bale), is a wounded Civil War veteran living on the frontier with his wive and two kids. They owe more money than they have, and the current drought is worsening matters. Evans sets off into town to settle his debts when he crosses paths with Ben Wade (Russell Crowe), a middle aged gang leader who's looking to get out of the thug life. This is the second time the two of them encounter each other in as many hours, as Evans had stumbled upon Wade's latest stagecoach heist in progress earlier that day. Wade is arrested, and Evans volunteers to escort him to the prison train, the titular 3:10 to Yuma. And so the film becomes a road picture. 

Among its many stellar qualities, the acting is far and away the best element of "3:10 to Yuma". Leading the pack is Crowe's reflective posse leader, a portrayal that is perhaps the most quietly naturalistic in any western that this reviewer has seen (I have not seen many). This is not a good guy; he shoots a member of his own crew to keep the rest in line, and he repeatedly tries to escape from captivity on the road to the train station. He is not, however, the villain of the piece (that role is filled insanely by Ben Foster [pictured]). Wade might have been a good man had life dealt him a different hand. There is a gentleness to him under all those years of crime in the wild west, and he is beginning to embrace it. 

Playing exact opposites of the morality spectrum are Bale and Foster, the latter of whom dives into the role of Wade's fanatical right hand man with firebrand precision. His Charlie Prince is the very definition of loyalty taken over the edge of sanity into the chasm of deranged, single-minded evil. He wantonly shoots civilians, burns people alive, all in the name of freeing his beloved Ben Wade. Bale's Dan Evans, on the other hand, is a good man just trying provide for this family. His performance is gritty and real, as always, but he is only here to act as mirror for Crowe's Ben Wade. 

Rounding out the main cast are Alan Tudyk as the town doctor, Logan Lerman as Evans' eldest son, and an unrecognizable Peter Fonda as a grizzled veteran bounty hunter. Like Bale, but to perhaps even more of an extent, they are only here to help tell Ben Wade's story. This really is Russell Crowe's film, and he rides off into the sunset with it. 

Review: "Encounters at the End of the World"

Antarctica. The last continent to be discovered by man is a strange and beautiful place, as "Encounters at the End of the World" (2007) shows so exceptionally. Directed by master documentarian Werner Herzog, this film continues his career long fascination with nature. The plot is simple: Herzog boards a giant military plane bound for Antarctica, and, upon arrival at it's largest settlement (which is not even a square mile in area), goes about capturing the day to day lives of some of the 1000 people who live there. These most southerly of travelers originate all over the place - America, Russia, Chile. One of them explains their presence this way: these people are not tied down, so they end up dropping to the bottom of the world - Antarctica.

Guided by Herzog's omnipresent, Bavarian-accented narration, the film quickly moves out of the camp and into the interior of the continent. We are first treated to a hilarious safety exercise involving white buckets as headgear, but then things start to soar. First we meet seal researchers, living and working in a tiny cabin upon a frozen lake. It is here the audience is treated to one of the most hauntingly beautiful sounds in all the natural world. Then it is off to visit some daring vulcanologists, and finally an introverted penguin researcher. 

The cinematography is the definition of gorgeous (especially the underwater footage), and the multicultural soundtrack is serene and perfectly complimentary to the images. 

"Encounters at the End of the World" is failed by mere words. It must be seen to be fully understood. In many of Werner Herzog's films, there is an underlying sense that the filmmaker is searching for something. I don't know if he found it with this film, but he comes closer than ever before. 

TV Review: "24 - four hour premiere: part 1"

Holy shit!!! Ok, ok, ok. Alright. So, the opening scene, I mean the very first thing we see in the premiere episode of the long awaited 7th season of "24", is this shluby looking guy driving young daughter somewhere, I don't know where. But they're just having innocent father-daughter time when (cut to an angle out the side window) they get freakin' t-boned by some big, black van! And the guy is like "oh my god, my innocent little daughter! Are you okay?!" and she's like "AHHHH!!! DADDY!!!". And then another big, black van hits them from behind! At, like, 50 mph! and the girl is like "OMG, how am I still alive?!" And then these terrorist-y looking dudes jump out of the vans and snatch the dad, and he's like "oh snap, I'm being fuckin' kidnapped! This must be because I am the only person on the planet who knows how to reprogram some gadget that protects the entire power grid, air traffic control grid, and defense grid for the United States!!" 

While this is going down, Jack Bauer (who is Jesus wrapped in Batman couched within ten thousand Supermans) is at the capitol taking some shit from some jack-off senator (who is probably a liberal. Fucking liberals.) So this guy is like "Mr. Bauer, you tortured this one terrorst, like, a million years ago. Don't feel bad about this?" And Jack just looks at him and says "No. I saved people by torturing that towelhead." And pinko senator is like "but you hurt that guy real good." But then Agent Renee Walker (pictured), the greatest human female every created, comes in and is like "I need Jack Bauer", and Jack is like "thank Me, an excuse to leave." So he books it with Agent Super Fox. "Suck it, Congress!"

So they go back to the FBI office, which is basically a stand in for the defunct CTU, and Agent Goddess Face says to Jack "your old buddy Tony Almeida, who you thought was dead, is not only alive but also a terrorist." And Jack is like "I don't believe any part of what you just said." But then Agent Fire Freckles is like, "Ya, rly. See, here's a picture of him." And Jack looks at he's like "No way! He even has the menacing terrorist face and everything." And Agent Thunder Thighs is like "You help us catch him now?" and he's like "Sure. My life is pretty empty anyways." 

Meanwhile at the White House, the new lady president is meeting with her peeps, and she's like "Oh shit, there's this crazy dictator in some fake African country the writers made up, and he's genociding all these people. We gotta stop him." And everyone is like "Okay", except for this one guy, but then the president is like "Agree with me or you fired," and then he says okay, too. Also, there's the obligatory presidential family drama that has nothing to do with the rest of the story. What. Ever. 

So Jack and Agent Sunset Eyes go to talk (just talk) to this guy that might be supplying Terrorist Tony (Jack still can't quite fucking believe it). I don't want to spoil anything else from this point on, but there is terror in the skies, federal agent infighting (the best kind of infighting), and Jack Bauer running around shooting at things with Agent Amber Hair Hot Stuff. 

Only two episodes in, and this is already way better than that shitty season 6. 

Review: "Chaplin"

I must make it known from the outset that I have a weakness for films about film making. "Chaplin" (1992)is one of these. As the title suggests, it is the life story of Charlie Chaplin, perhaps the most famous star of the silent film era. 

We begin, naturally, at the beginning. Chaplin is a small child living in London's East End in the 1890's, enduring quite the Dickensian existence. His single mother just barely supports him and his older brother with vaudeville work, although it quickly becomes clear that young Charlie is far more talented in this arena than his she. Fast forward several years, and Charlie is making a name for himself on the London vaudeville stage after a painful episode wherein he must commit his mother to an insane asylum. Chaplin is quickly noticed by a producer from Hollywood, and he is invited to California. It is at a small movie studio where he discovers the fledgling form of magic that is film making. 

Far and away the best aspect of "Chaplin" is Robert Downey Jr.'s immersive and charismatic performance as the title character. His cockney accent is spot on (as far as this American can tell), and he perfectly captures Chaplin's onscreen persona. He is truly The Tramp incarnate. 

The film is competently, if not inspirationally, directed by Lord Richard Attenborough, who was also responsible for the biopic "Gandhi, but most people will know him as the Dinosaur entrepreneur in "Jurassic Park". Lord Attenborough's real strength as a director seems to be coaxing authentic yet entertaining performances from his actors, a talent that is on full display here. 

As with many biopics, especially those that cover the entire breadth of a person's life, "Chaplin" lacks a real clean focus, other than, of course, Chaplin's life. There are certain threads that weave throughout the picture, such as his affairs with and marriages to much younger women, and J. Edgar Hoover's quest to prove Chaplin to be a communist. The film is made up of a number of quite insightful and entertaining moments (not the least of which involve Chaplin on the sets of his films), but it never really adds up to anything in the end. I speak of the cinematic sense of an end, in that the conclusion of the film deposits us somewhere we were not when the thing began. 

There is a framing gimmick that all these scenes are couched within, which takes the form of an elderly Charlie Chaplin revising his memoirs with his editor. This only serves to take us out of the film, but it endeared me to the director somewhat when I discovered that this gimmick and the related ending were foisted upon him at the last minute by the backers. 

I recommend "Chaplin" to fan's of: biopics, Robert Downey Jr., period pieces, or anyone with an interest in film making and/or film history. Perhaps the reason I have a special affinity for films about film making, especially those concerned with the start of the industry, is that they have as their subject the very thing to which they owe their existence. 

Review: "Bound for Glory"

"Bound for Glory" (1976) follows Woody Guthrie (an uncanny and beautifully understated David Carradine) as he rides the rails, from his home in Texas, to California in 1936. He has left his wife and children behind in search of better fortunes out west, but, while he manages to escape the Dust Bowl, he cannot elude the Great Depression.

Rewinding just a bit, our story starts out in northern Texas, in a very small, dust ravaged town. Woody spends his days picking at his guitar, writing songs, and occasionally making a few dollars here and there painting signs. This first section of the film floats by quietly, and serves to show a small town boy who will soon transform into the voice of the working man. He is friendly and helpful to everyone he meets, simply by his nature. This, and the music that just drips out of him like a leaky fosset, are the first two ingredients that help turn Woody Guthrie the man into Woody Guthrie the folk hero. 

The film, directed by Hal Ashby, feels like a documentary, what with the handheld, under lit camerawork and no evident makeup upon the actors' faces. It is in fact quite a tome for Steadicam enthusiasts, as it contains some brilliant examples of the technology when it was still in it's fetal stages. There are sustained tracking shots following Woody thro

ugh shanty towns, that lend themselves to the documentarian aesthetic of the picture. Some of the most exhilarating single shots depict our hero jumping onto and off of moving trains, where it is also clear that Carradine did his own stunt work. 

Shot on location in San Fernando Valley, California, "Bound for Glory" is perhaps one of the most realistic and authentic films about the Great Depression, or any era. It is certainly about this period in American history just as much as, if not more than, the formation of a famous musician. Indeed, we are taken on a tour of the era, with Woody Guthrie as our surrogate. Yes, some of the standard music biopic drama does crop up, but the film merely glides over these scenes, acknowledging them, while making clear that this man's life is not the focus, it is instead what he saw. 

This film would make a good double bill with "The Motorcycle Diaries" (2004), as both tell the story of how a 20th century icon was shaped by bearing witn

ess to the suffering of his people. 

"Arrakis. Dune. Desert planet."

I have begun writing a spec script for my cinematic vision of Frank Herbert's "Dune". As most Dunatics are aware, the previous film version of the book failed, and the television venture was even more disastrous. Why is this? Is the novel simply unfilmable? No. It is my belief that a talented filmmaker can bring any source material to cinematic life. The problem with the film and tv interpretations of "Dune" is not unfaithfulness to the book, but rather the quality of filmmaking on display. David Lynch's film from the 1980's is well made but inaccessible, while the tv miniseries is just plain bad. 

I have just recently read the book, so my script should be finished in 2 months at most. I definitely want to get it out there before the ball starts rolling on another hollywood stab at "Dune". Peter Berg is tentatively lined up to direct this time around. Berg is the mastermind behind the recent Will Smith classic "Hancock", wherein Smith plays a deadbeat super hero who flies around drunk. I think it won something like 800 Oscars. 

I shall post my spec script on this blog when I finish it.

Review: "Wild At Heart"

"Wild at Heart", written for the screen and directed by David Lynch, is the middle chapter in what I feel is a thematic trilogy that begins with "Blue Velvet" (1986), and ends with "Lost Highway" (1997), both also by Lynch. They do not share the same characters or anything literal like that, but all three have the same feel, and not just because they are made by the same director. Out of all of Lynch's work, these films just seem to fit together nicely.

"Wild at Heart" stars the incomparable Laura Dern as Lula, a passionate, rebellious young woman who, despite fiery protestation from her mother (pushed over the top by Diane Ladd), sets off across the southern United States with her recently paroled boyfriend named Sailor (Nicholas Cage, playing a cross between Elvis Presley and Brad Pitt's character from "Kalifornia" ), in search of... something, it's never really made clear. Perhaps their goal is to fornicate in every state. What ever it is their up to, Lula's mother gets in touch with a former lover who might be a mob boss, and they send some goons down Texas way to shoot Sailor in the brain. In fact, the reason sailor was in prison was for killing a previous hit man that Lula's mother had sent after him. 

So Lula and Sailor make their way from the Carolinas to New Orleans to San Antonio, screwing in every hotel along the way and stopping on desolate stretches of highway to loudly declare their love for each other. And this is essentially what fills up most of the film's running time. This and a tiresome multitude of extreme close ups of cigarettes being lit. The action does pick up a bit at the end, and its good. This film is actually excellent when things are happening. The brutal, bloody fight right at the beginning, and the heist at the end (initiated by a deranged-and-loving-it Willem Dafoe) are great, but in between is just a bunch of fucking and fake southern accents. 

"Wild at Heart" is really only for diehard Lynch enthusiasts, or anyone who's wanted to see what would happen if you took Elvis, "Natural Born Killers", and the freakin' Wizard of Oz, mixed them together in David Lynch's head, and then poured the resulting concoction onto a movie screen. 

Initiate film blog

Welcome to yet another film blog. To get things started, here are some reviews I have already written:

The Prestige (2006)

This film is, on the surface, a story concerning rival magicians in Victorian London. But, at the heart of things, it is really a film about film-making.

As far as I'm concerned, the goal of any film is threefold. I call it the 3 Es: Engage, Entertain, and Enlighten. Before either of the later two can happen, the audience must first be engaged. This means giving them a point of reference; that is to say, introduce them to something familiar right off the bat: a character that is relatable, and a situation or conflict that is easily comprehended. Once the audience is engaged, it is the filmmaker's duty to then entertain them, by putting the established characters in humorous or nerve-racking situations. There is a certain flare for creating truly entertaining scenes that only a few select directors possess. There is a kind of showmanship quality to film-making. The final thing a film must do is enlighten the audience. That is, the film should come to a point that stimulates the mind of the viewer. This is not always achieved and is even more difficult to pull off than pure entertainment. This third aspect is what separates great films from those that are simply good. It helps the film stick in people's minds long after they have seen it.

The above three elements of the film viewing experience are directly comparable to the three stages of a magic trick, as discussed in "The Prestige". These are The Pledge, The Turn, and The Prestige. The Turn is when the audience is shown something ordinary; a handkerchief or a small bird. This is much like the beginning of a film when the audience is engaged by something equally familiar. The second part is The Turn, when the ordinary thing is made to do something extraordinary, like disappear. "But," as Michael Caine's character says in the the film, "you wouldn't clap yet. It's not enough to make something disappear. You have to bring it back." This seemingly miraculous return of the vanished object is The Prestige, and it is the most important part of the trick. These latter two parts are similar to the way entertaining the audience can bring them to something enlightening; how a heart pounding chase scene can wind and twist and turn, and then deposit us at some great, profound truth.

Another convention of magic tricks that is shared in film-making is the suspension of disbelief. It is said in the film that the audience knows that it is only an illusion, but they don't want to know how it is accomplished. "They want to be fooled", as they say. This is equally true with the film viewing experience. Any individual of even average intelligence knows full well that what they are witnessing on screen is not entirely real, but they ignore that fact. They want something extraordinary. They want to see something aside from their familiar reality. They want to escape, and it is the job of both the magician and the filmmaker to render a believable fantasy for the viewing public.

Filmmakers are the magicians of their day. With both magic and cinema, people go to the theater to see something outside of their own, regular experience. They are, at first, presented with something against which they can compare their own lives. "I know what this is. I get this", they think to themselves. Then, through this relatable proxy, the audience is taken on a journey into previously unknown territory, where they witness things they had never imagined and certainly did not expect. Then, at the end of this voyage, and indeed because of it, we come to a profundity that we had not known, yet it is undeniably true. We leave the theater having gained a fuller experience. Or course we know it was all smoke and mirrors, but to dwell on this notion would ruin something very special.

Funny Ha Ha (2002)

Every filmmaker has a responsibility to at least make an attempt to create something that is visually compelling. That is the reason film, as a medium, exists. Funny Ha Ha is not a film. It is filmed, but it is not a film by the definition given above. No matter how well written the dialogue is or how subtly performed the acting is, it is a worthless endeavor if the VISUAL aspect is ignored. If all you care about is acting and dialogue, then put on a play. Films are visual. The writing and acting are a part of it, but it is nothing without the visuals. 

To see what I mean about film being a visual medium, go watch KOYANISQATSI and POWAQQATSI. They have no actors or talking, but they are two of the finest films ever made.

Funny Ha Ha is a waste, and if it is indeed the "citizen kane" of mumblecore, I will be staying away from the entire genre.


Tristan + Isolde (2006)

There are 3 kinds of actors:

1. Those who are only as good as the films they're in. 2. Those who are bad even in excellent films. 3. Those who are always good, no matter the quality of the film.

Sophia Myles falls into the third category. Her portrayal of the lovelorn Irish princess, Isolde, single-handedly saves this film from being just another tired period piece. She and James Franco (Tristan) have a surprisingly real chemistry, and their delicate forbidden romance is the heart and soul of "Tristan and Isolde".

Also notable is Rufus Sewell as Marke, king of the united English tribes, and Tristan's adopted father. Sewell brings an electrifying honesty to a role that, in the hands of a lesser actor, would have come across as merely villainous.

James Franco is adequate as Tristan, but he mostly wears the same, brooding expression for the whole film. It is Sophia Myles who makes "Tristan and Isolde" worth watching. Remember her name; I reckon we'll be hearing more of it.


The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)

"The Bourne Ultimatum" is like no other film I've ever seen. It takes the precedent for action film-making set by "The Bourne Identity" to a whole new level.

This is an action film in the truest and purest way. It consists almost entirely of marvelously choreographed fight scenes, chase scenes, both on foot and in cars, and so on.

While the first two films focused on story and character as well as action, "Ultimatum" throws the former two out the window and elects instead to take the latter and run, nay, sprint with it to the finish line of this fantastic trilogy.

Director Paul Greengrass, most notable recently for the painfully intimate and real "United 93", proves with "Ultimatum" that he is one of the most capable action filmmakers around. This being his second contribution to the Bourne series, after "The Bourne Supremacy", I essentially see his "Bourne" movies as two parts of the same film.

If you're looking for a smart, fun, and exciting time at the movies, "The Bourne Ultimatum" is it.


Little Miss Sunshine (2006)

"Little Miss Sunshine" is a very funny film. The writing is smart, the acting is pitch perfect, and the adept direction from the husband and wife team of Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris keeps the film rolling along at a charming pace, much like the yellow VW bus that carries the Hoover family from Fresno, AZ to Rodondo Beach, CA for a beauty pageant.

While the writing is sharp, it is really the performances that make this film what it is. The whole cast is in fine form, but two really stand out: Grandpa (Alan Arkin), and Olive (Abigail Breslin), the eldest and youngest, respectively, of the Hoover clan. They have a chemistry that is enchanting and utterly believable, and their relationship is the rock that anchors the film.

Also notable are Greg Kinnear and Toni Collette as Richard and Sheryl, the mom and dad of the family. Collette is engaging as always; playing yet another stressed out mom, but with honesty and grace, again, as she always does. And Kinnear, who is growing on me with every film he does, brings a wonderful nervous determination to his role as an aspiring motivational speaker.

Rounding out the cast is the depressed odd couple of Dwayne and Uncle Frank, played dryly by Paul Dano and Steve Carell. They are more spectators than participants, as compared to the rest of the family, but their subdued commentary on the absurdity that transpires provides a good balance to their more electric relatives.

The film is very enjoyable, aside from a disturbing array of child beauty queens, whose presence is funny until you learn that they are played by real beauty pageant veterans, complete with their real costumes and makeup, which make them look more like prepubescent Real Dolls than actual human girls. At one point during a pageant, Richard asks the man next to him, "Is your daughter in the competition?" to which the man replies, after removing an earplug, "First time?".

Hints of pedophilia notwithstanding, "Little Miss Sunshine" is a fine film, and may find itself regarded as a classic in years to come.


Spider-Man 3 (2007)

*** This comment may contain spoilers ***

"Spiderman 3" is by far the worst of the Spiderman trilogy.

Whereas the first two films are well done, mature, intelligent, and fun, the last is simply a sad imitation of it's much superior predecessors.

Many negative reviews have cited the crowded cast of characters as the reason for this film being subpar, but that's only the tip of the iceberg. I think the wide array of characters is a good thing, especially since I found just about all the supporting cast much more enjoyable and compelling than The Big Three: Peter Parker/Spiderman (Toby Maguire), Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst), and Harry Osbourne (James Franco). In fact, my three favorites were:

- Thopher Grace as Eddie Brock jr., who always makes a point of slipping in the "jr." when introducing himself. He brings everything that made him funny and likable on "That 70's Show" to his maddeningly small part here. Watching him, during the half-dozen five minute scenes he has scattered throughout the film, I began to realize that it was he, not Toby Maguire, who should have been cast as Spiderman to begin with.

-Thomas Haden Church as Flint Marko, who deserves better than to be in a bloated special effects orgy. He brings a very real honesty to his role as the main villain, who becomes a monstrosity known as Sandman due to falling into a large, um... well, I don't know quite what it is, but it apparently scrambles molecules, and is kept in the middle of a park for some reason with it's top open, I guess so escaped convicts can fall in and become super-villains.

-Bruce Cambell as the Maître d' of a restaurant in one scene, where Kirsten Dunst sits around looking depressed and Toby Maguire looks dumb. Bruce Cambell is flat out hilarious in this small glorified cameo. But all through this short scene, all I could think about was how awesome he was in "Buba Ho Tep".

LIke I said, it's not the large cast that hurts the film, it's how all the characters are handled. The movie is almost 3 hours long, yet, with all that time, we still don't get to know any of the characters. If you want to see how a large cast of characters can be balanced well, just watch "Nashville", or "Gosford Park", or just about any Robert Altman film for that matter.

For about the first 2/3rds of the film, it plods along as a tired comic book adaption, but at a certain point, it goes completely off the rails. In fact, after 20 minutes, you can't even see the rails. What rails?

The catalyst for the extreme rail-jumping is when Peter Parker is covered in Black Oozy Stuff From Outer Space, which forms itself into a black version of his familiar red and blue spandex. It also makes him Evil, or to be more precise, Emo. Seriously, not to long after getting the black suit, he looks at himself in the mirror completely seriously and GIVES HIMSELF SWOOPY BANGS!!!! I'm serious! He takes his newfound emo-ness and kills all the bad guys who just don't understand him.

Eventually, he morphs into this weird, emo-meets-Hitler-meets-Willard lady's man, who walks around town dancing and and buying expensive clothes. There is one scene that is truly bizarre, wherein Peter Parker goes to the coffee house that Mary Jane works at, with (gasp) another woman, and proceeds to dance, push people around, and ultimately knock Mary Jane on the floor. This prompts her to ask Peter "Who are you?" to which he answers, "I don't know", and runs out of the place all emo and stuff. Right around this time, I started to wonder if the person at concessions had spiked the popcorn with acid.

"Spiderman 3" is essentially a big budget B-movie, which goes wacky around the 4th reel. Do not pay money to see this, unless you are hopelessly in love with Toby Magiure and his big, stupid smile.


Team America: World Police (2004)

A big part of what makes "Team America: World Police" such a comedic masterpiece is that everything that happens (gun fights, explosions, Inspiring Messages, sex) is depicted with puppets.

It makes sense that Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the writer/directors of this film, originally wanted to use the script from "Armageddon". They ended up changing their plans due to legal problems, but the film is essentially the same. By throwing in every conceivable Big Action Movie cliché, Parker and Stone have made perhaps the most perfect send-up ever of the all those Michael Bay explosion movies.

The stars of the film are Team America, a group of special government agents. They don't fight terrorism, they seek it out and obliterate it, even if that means destroying most of Paris in the process. There are those out to stop our intrepid band of All-American Heroes, including Kim-Jong Il, and various Hollywood liberals such as George Clooney, Alec Baldwin, Michael Moore, and Sean Penn (who apparently wrote an angry letter to Parker and Stone in response to this film. Christ, Sean, get a sense of humor).

And then there's the soundtrack, which is something else entirely. From the "Montage Song", to "I Miss You, And Pearl Harbor Sucked", every song is priceless and hilarious.

"Team America: World Police" succeeds on just about every level. See this movie.

Amer-ica, F**K YEAH!!


Clerks 2 (2006)

It happened to George Lucas, and now it has happened to Kevin Smith. What am I talking about? Alien abduction? no. A brain tumor? unlikely. I am talking about once great filmmakers who, for whatever reason, have lost their ability to make good movies. With George Lucas, this was obvious with Episode 1.

And so it goes that "Clerks 2" is Kevin Smith's "Phantom Menace", and Mooby is his Jar Jar.

The film starts off with the good old Quick Stop from the first "Clerks" burning down, shown with really poor visual effects that any 9th grade computer animation student could pull off during second lunch. Dante Hicks, our hero, reacts to this calamity by strapping on a dumbstruck expression, which he wears for the duration of the movie. His trusty sidekick, Randal, arrives and delivers some Clever One Liners.

The two friends, finally given a chance to move on with their lives, decide to get jobs flipping burgers at Mooby's, a restaurant that seems to have more employees than patrons.

Enter Rosario Dawson, who deserves better. She is a fine actress, but all Smith can think of to do with her is have her say "ass to mouth" over and over and jiggle her boobs to "ABC" by the Jackson 5 in an excruciatingly out of place dance sequence.

Also on the menu (eh, get it, because that's about how complex the humor in this movie is), are Jay and Silent Bob, a parade of cameos, a big fat biker and the donkey who loved him, and a sexless teenage boy, who is actually the funniest character in the film. Pillow-pants is the 37 of the this movie.

The script (there was a script?) consists of unfunny gross out humor, unfunny pop culture references, unfunny sight gag, unfunny racism....

All in all, "Clerks 2" has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. There are some Smithphiles who try to justify the film by claiming that it deepens the relationship between Dante and Randal, but really, the only relationship deepening I saw was a seen late in the film where Randal confesses his love for Dante, whose dumbstruck expression is truly put to the test.


The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

"The Bourne Supremacy" is a worthy follow up to "The Bourne Identity". But, unlike "Identity", this installment is not a classic.

"Supremacy" is by no means a bad film. Oh contraire. It is finely crafted, with excellent action scenes, juxtaposed with moments of tenderness.

What keeps this film from attaining the magnificence of it's predecessor are a number of elements:

-The middle child syndrome. This is typical of any second film in a trilogy, where it essentially ends in the same place it started.

-But mostly, it's the overdone steadycam (or shakeycam) technique that the director, Paul Greengrass, seems to love so much. It's fine to convey a sense of realism and immediacy, but when the camera moves so much that the viewer can't even keep track of the action, that's a problem. I actually had to look away at several points to avoid a migraine. Sometimes, Paul, you need to whip out the good old tripod and slap the camera on there.

-Lastly, this film just doesn't seem to have the same heart that "Identity" had. Perhaps that stems from Franke Potente's severely diminished role here.

Despite these shortcomings, "The Bourne Supremacy" is a very good action film, and it does well to link the the first ("Identity") and last ("The Bourne Ultimatum") films of the trilogy.


The Bourne Identity (2002)

There are those who say that the book is always better than the movie. These people have clearly never seen "The Bourne Identity", which is based on the book of the same name about a CIA agent who washes up in the Mediterranean Sea with two bullet holes in his back and no memory of who he is.

What strikes one first about the film is the action.

Two scenes stand out.

First, there is a scene in Switzerland, where our hero, Jason Bourne (played with honest intensity by Matt Damon), climbs sideways across a snow-covered wall of the US Embassy. The stunt is amazing yet believable, and is an experience that can only be found in a movie. Sorry authors, but no collection of words, how ever elegant or intelligently constructed, can possibly convey the same tension and white knuckled excitement that this scene has.

Secondly, there is a now famous car chase through Paris, which is, frankly, awesome beyond words.

Aside from the action, the film excels with smart and breathlessly smooth plot development, which should be studied in film and script writing classes.

Lastly, perhaps the film's strongest element next to it's action scenes is the acting. Chris Cooper is electrifying as always here, playing a sinister CIA desk stooge, who orchestrates the hunt for Bourne while answering to a gruff Brian Cox.

And special attention should be paid to Franke Potente as Marie, a nomadic German girl who gets recruited by Bourne to drive him to Paris. The world was first exposed to her in the German indie film "Lola rennt", and here she is a refreshing presence amide all the spy intrigue. She plays Marie with a down-to-Earth honesty that works as an excellent balance to Damon's action anti-hero. Their chemistry is fresh and very real. These performances cannot be found in books.

All things considered, "The Bourne Identity" is one of the 10 best action films ever made.