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It takes real guts to see the hopelessness ... Revolutionary Road
Topic: film review
Here it is, the start of suburban sprawl. So many people will look at it as success—the ability to survive and raise a family away from crime, in a neighborhood that thrives on wholesome love and friendship. But as anyone can tell you today, most of that is a complete façade, a mask hiding the troubles and anger and regret that everyone feels—that need for more, and a way out of the rut of living without living. What Revolutionary Road does is peel back that layer where it concerns the Wheelers, a young couple that is looked up to by everyone in their social circle. Loving, two children, a supporting husband, and a beautiful wife—they’re the idyllic white picket fence dream. Except for the inner struggles both Frank and April fight each day, looking at their present and only seeing a future full of mediocrity and safety; the excitement of young love full of hope, where the sky was the limit, all but gone. Once that first child is born, you need to begin living for someone else, putting yourself in the backseat. Sometimes that life just isn’t for all of us.

The novel for which this film is adapted from is also the material loosely utilized for the television show “Mad Men”. While these two entities differ greatly, the underlying structural problems about marriage and the meaning of success couldn’t be more similar. Sure Jon Hamm’s Don Draper is a confident man that buried his past to become the man he thought he wanted to be and Leonardo DiCaprio is a beaten man stuck in a job he hates in order to be the husband he thinks he needs to be, but the end result—breaking from their vows to add a little excitement and memory of life when all they had to worry about was themselves—is a mirror image of the other. Tightly wound and stressful to no end, Frank and April Wheeler are at a very dangerous crossroads. Finally getting on the other’s nerves, beginning to think that maybe their marriage was rushed into after a chance encounter at a party, the relationship has escalated to shouting matches that attempt to get the other to snap first. It is only the hastily hatched plan of moving to Paris, starting anew with that fervor they both fell in love with from the other the first time, that gets them back on track with a glimmer of hope for the future.

Business is booming, the computer generation is burgeoning, and money has become the driving force for life. With advertising and sales entrenching themselves into daily routine, people are finding themselves brainwashed to the idea that a perfect home life means having the big house, nice car, multiple children, and dinner on the table each night. If that dream means working a job you don’t respect or pretending your life locked inside your house raising the kids who forced you to move to the suburbs in the first place, well, you make do. As my favorite character, and probably the most important voice in the entire film, says, “most people know the emptiness, it takes real guts to see the hopelessness.” Michael Shannon’s John Givings, a friend’s son, recently admitted to an insane asylum, hits the nail on the head. Most couples going through the motions know the void they are filling with material goods and lies to themselves and each other, but very few understand the fact that once you find yourself in that world, it becomes a descent into quicksand, almost impossible to find that joy you once saw in front of you so long ago.

This man’s insanity also plays a huge role in the film due to the fact that, in my opinion, he is the sanest character here. He understands what it means to be free from the constraints of society, but for some reason humanity got lost on its journey, eventually deeming freedom to be an unattainable dream. To live without inhibitions is insanity while slaving away every last fiber of your being becomes the sane thing to do. This fact is shown completely naked through the eyes of DiCaprio’s Frank and Kate Winslet’s powerful turn as April. By discovering how much what she does hurts her, how much what her contemporaries say she should be doing destroys her will to go on, she slowly finds herself spiraling into depression, becoming vacant and hysterical. The final act, John Givings’ last visit to the Wheeler house until the next morning’s surreally off-kilter mood and action, is absolutely devastating to experience. You can’t help but see yourself in their shoes, watching as the weight of conformity finally becomes too much to prop above the necessity to fly.

And Sam Mendes really gets every bit right, even those heavily debated subjects some people might not want to face. At first, I began to think how much could have been improved if say Todd Field directed this story, but after further thought realized it wouldn’t have been as effective. While it doesn’t contain the amount of humor the audience I saw it with thought, there are a lot of laughs included, both adding to the awkwardness of some situations and deflecting from the sheer dramatic gravitas portrayed at many moments. I especially loved the moments where Mendes slowed the camera down, just a bit, and superimposed a beautiful orchestral score above while muting the sounds of the actions on screen. Utilized when April and Shep dance at a bar and later during Frank’s heart-wrenching experience of being completely helpless, this effect is successful and never heavy-handed. Sometimes it takes tragedy to wake yourself from the nightmare of solitude that you thought was a dream of happiness, and Revolutionary Road puts that revelation in your face, hopefully to watch now so as not to allow it to occur to yourself in real life.

Revolutionary Road 10/10

Squeal like a piggy ... Lat den ratte komma in (Let the Right One In)
Topic: film review
I still have no idea what has made vampires so in fashion this year, but I am kind of glad they are. Sure you’ll get the mainstream, watered-down stuff like Twilight, but along with that are the surprises like HBO’s “True Blood”. Let’s go ahead and put Sweden on the list of fresh takes as Tomas Alfredson’s Låt den rätte komma in (Let the Right One In), adapted by John Ajvide Lindqvist from his own novel, is quite unforgettable. Not since the Russian supernaturally inclined Night Watch have I seen this subject matter brought to life in such a seemingly unique and original way. It is the sheer realism that makes the film so unnervingly tough to watch, especially since our leads are only twelve years old—more or less. The atmosphere is starkly bleak, the pacing and composition methodically precise, and the complete whole just beautiful to set your eyes upon. You’ll feel as though the chill has entered your room, all oxygen sucked out as in a vacuum, but you will not be able to turn away.

The story consists of your usual, bullied middle-schooler, taking the abuse and acting out his revenge in the confines of his own solitude. Without friends, young Oskar finds himself talking to the air, or a tree, wielding a hunting knife and doing to his imaginary counterparts that which the real miscreants do to him. It is his revenge-induced speech that catches the attention of a young girl, just moved next-door, named Eli. She knows the rage he feels only too well, except, when it comes to her bloodlust, it is necessity and not desire. This vampire is made to kill, something her guardian, (is it her father? Her uncle? An old friend that has aged while she has not?), attempts to protect her from by killing and gathering blood while she stays safe indoors. Alive for so long, feeding on the dead to survive, she finally finds a friend, someone much like her—an outsider that will not be understood—that she can possibly be herself with, that she can help to realize he does not want to become a killer.

What sticks with you most, after watching, is the amazing sense of detail throughout. Right down to the mucus on Oskar’s mouth from the cold weather, everything is thought of, letting you enter this world as though it’s right in front of you despite the fact vampires exist. When it comes to that mythical creature too, though, you can’t fault the three-dimensionality. All the things you may wonder about: What happens when one goes into sunlight? What happens if it enters without being invited? How does a bite affect its victim if not killed as a result? They will be touched upon and answered. Supernatural strength, inhuman speed, and the ability of flight? Just keep your eyes open because it’s all here, displayed in a way that you could almost believe is ture. Alfredson creates a world much like our own, same rules and same emotions, you just have to worry a bit more about who you let into your house.

But don’t think of this as a vampire story; it is so much more than that. The performances by Kåre Hedebrant and Lina Leandersson as Oskar and Eli respectively vault it into a tale about humanity and love. The bond these two misfits create is stronger than anything you can imagine, as they will do anything to keep the other safe. Eli asks at one point if Oskar would like her if she wasn’t a girl and he says sure. It is a query that intrigues on the basis that you believe her being a vampire means she is dead and no longer human, yet, as a short scene shows us, the question of gender may be more than that, especially since she says that she is not dead, she just feeds on blood. Watching her puke when trying to digest just one piece of candy, or what happens when she enters her friend’s apartment uninvited, shows the unglamorous lifestyle she lives. This is not the immortal—live without consequences—riot you may have seen before. Being a vampire is a curse, but one that has its advantages, as you will see.

That leads into the question of the title and whether it regards Oskar or Eli. Does the boy let the right vampire into his life, the person he can relate to and enlist to help him, or does the girl let the right human in, someone she can allow herself to love and care about despite the monster she knows she is? These two become inseparable on a very spiritual level, one that puts them to the ledge of killing in order to protect the other. However, the ability to commit murder is much different than the desire to. As you will see at the end, vengeance can be both brutal and rewarding. In what could be the single best take all year, a static shot, underwater in the school pool, an angle so meticulously positioned that the artistry leaves you just as speechless as what occurs in the frame, you will be hard-pressed to forget what retribution looks like…and the smile will haunt you.

A piece of art, through and through, this carefully paced tale of friendship and love between two worlds is not to be missed. Nor is it to be disregarded and thrown to the side as another horror film. It is a tale of humanity that only the naïveté of children can show. Complete with cinematography that could be freeze-framed at any moment and hung in a gallery, Låt den rätte komma in grabs ahold and doesn’t let go.

Låt den rätte komma in 9/10

Killing kindness in the name of virtue ... Doubt
Topic: film review
Upon seeing the trailer for John Patrick Shanley’s film Doubt, based upon his own play, I just thought, wow, a great cast with a dull story. Well, after seeing it, my mind has been changed to believing that the accolades strewn down may be warranted. Something about small-scale films adapted from theatre resonates with me. I love the emotional punch packed inside, tightly constructed for a powerful impact. Unlike a novel, plays need to get everything out in a short period of time, and that concentrated energy gets released with so much more weight. What I originally thought would be a back and forth between priest and nun, eventually ending in the truth coming out and all being over, instead becomes an exercise in humanity and ego. Everything we do as people has reasons and consequences, the truth is a strong thing, but speculation is even stronger. When someone gets an idea into his head, he will continue that course of thinking until the end, doing whatever he can to bring the wrongdoer to justice and vindicate the victim. No matter how much that judge may believe he is doing right, the toll and price of his actions may exceed the cost of finding the truth. Because if the truth isn’t what he thinks, he will never believe it, therefore making justice void, ruining lives by allowing fear and the unknown take control over the pursuit and achievement of fact.

Watching this subject matter in the forum of a church is an interesting and disturbing thing. While the idea of child molestation hangs in the balance, on whether this priest began an inappropriate relationship with a boy, it is not the main aspect of the story. Instead, the question of how someone deals with his own doubt comes to the forefront. As Father Flynn, the priest in question played wonderfully by Philip Seymour Hoffman, says early on, doubt can be as powerfully bonding as conviction. You may think it’s you versus the world, but there are really so many out there sharing the same questions of faith and action as you. All it takes is one small event, one seemingly innocuous moment to make someone question another’s actions. Once the seed of doubt is planted, however, it is very tough to remove, yet rather easy to spread onto others.

The film doesn’t even really need to tell you if the atrocity in question actually occurred or not, that isn’t important. What is crucial becomes how everyone involved deals with the accusations. The power struggle of the church becomes a big factor as you start to question whether the men do have the women pressed under their controlling grip. By juxtaposing the dinner quarters of the two groups, watching the nuns sit properly and eat in silence while the men laugh and joke and indulge themselves, you can’t help but wonder about that dynamic. At multiple instances the regimented structural hierarchy of nun to priest to bishop to pope comes up showing a chain of authority that cannot be questioned at any moment. The format only succeeds if it is followed to the letter, the entire system will topple if anything less occurs.

As a result, so much is challenged. Religion, morals, that gray line between right and wrong, whether wrong can somehow be good if you allow yourself to see only the benefits and lie to yourself about the horrors happening along with them—this film will make you look deep inside yourself and wonder how you’d react. Would you be able to go against your vows, against the rules of God that you have followed for so long, in order to seek what you thought was right? Would you question a higher authority’s word on a hunch? Would you have that much faith in yourself that he was lying? To be able to fully commit yourself in a course of action, consequences be damned, you must have no doubt at all. However, if at the end things change, if doubts start creeping in, you will be devastatingly lost, always unsure of yourself and whether you can ever trust your gut again.

The strength and resolve of a human being is not shown better than in the two final confrontations of this film. Viola Davis is amazing as the possible victim’s mother, a woman who is trying to keep her family together and give her son a chance at a life. No matter what is happening, she just needs until June, until he graduates, then he can go away to a good high school and possibly college. 1964 is not an easy time for a black family in a heavily populated Irish neighborhood. She is surviving and hoping her son does as well, because it isn’t just the boys in school, or the teachers making accusations on each other around him, but also their home too, with a father that won’t except a son who doesn’t fit his ideals. When she and Meryl Streep, the nun at the head of Father Flynn’s witch trial, have their walk together, that scene becomes the film. Davis, as a mother, begins to go outside the boundaries of that sacred job just as Streep goes out of hers as a nun. The two are so much the same, yet on opposite sides, that it becomes such a powerhouse of emotions and revelations.

But it all culminates in the final showdown between Hoffman and Streep, the point at which the film takes a turn I never anticipated it doing. Whether the truth comes out or not, this is a scene containing two of the best, screaming and challenging one another with empty threats, lies, and half-truths. They are the two biggest monsters in a film chock full of them. Both are doing what in their minds is right, risking the ruin of the other for something no one has proof for or against. It becomes a test of whether a reputation becomes bigger than the person. Is it worth it to risk shame in order to keep a lie underwraps? Just because there is no proof for guilt doesn’t mean the creed “innocent until proven guilty” will hold true. Once someone calls another’s self into question, once a person’s integrity becomes blemished due to fact or fiction, there is no turning back. Like the metaphor of a pillow’s feathers flying across town, unable to be retrieved, gossip spreads like wildfire and it can never be overturned. People will always think twice, but it also works the other way too. If everyone seems to feel that person is just, and it’s only you who thinks differently, well then the guilt all of a sudden transfers. It begins to eat away at you as you wonder if all that work, all those sacrifices with their dire consequences, were for nothing.

Doubt 9/10

All debts are paid at the opera tonight ... Repo! The Genetic Opera
Topic: film review
Blood, gore, goth, and … opera? If Darren Lynn Bousman is behind the camera, yes, they meld together into a passion project for all to experience. He can thank the success of the Saw franchise, which he directed three installments, for allowing him to get the financing and support to put Repo! The Genetic Opera into theatres, (even if it didn’t come to my hometown). The middle third of a planned trilogy of rock-horror, the film takes place in a future where genetically created organs are mass-produced and financed to even the poorest surgery-junkies around, with the caveat that if you miss a payment, your very life will be repossessed. Inhabited by freaks and monsters, the city is a cesspool of greed and violence, lorded over by the Largo family and their ownership of GeneCo—meaning they hold the life and death of almost everyone in their hands. Only one girl can possibly instill change, the daughter of the Repoman himself, a young woman unable to go outside due to a blood disease, the father made to kill and retrieve organs by blackmail and a lie that has shaped his life for seventeen years.

The crux of the tale hinges on the relationship between Rotti Largo, the founder of GeneCo, and Nathan Wallace, his ex-doctor and presumed heir to the throne (the Largo children are all headcases, unable to run a company), current Repoman and thief of Largo’s love. Marni is the woman that fell in love with Nathan, breaking off her relationship with Rotti, marrying the doctor and bearing his child, Shilo. After she fell ill while pregnant, Nathan did all he could to cure her, even taking a medication from his friend and employer, not knowing Rotti had given him a poison to get revenge on the woman who left him. With Marni dead, Nathan thinking himself a murderer, and Shilo born, Wallace decides to imprison his daughter from leaving the house, shielding her from the horrors of the outside world and from his job as the most well-known monster alive.

And it’s all done through song. Say what you will about the film—I’m a little mixed on it myself—but do not deny the absolute imagination and courage that went into actually making it happen. There was no way that Repo! would ever be commercially viable. From the start, if it were to succeed at all, it would be as a cult classic, taken possession by late night theatres and the eccentric people who frequent them. Does it have the staying power of a Rocky Horror Picture Show? I’m not too sure, but then I can’t believe the Tim Curry vehicle does, so who knows? I’ll admit that the music itself isn’t anything too memorable, the hard rock/industrial beats are fantastic, but the lyrics, while good for progressing the plot, end up being a bit disjointed, not rhyming often and choppy in their delivery. But, again, just the attempt of something this ambitious must be applauded.

Bousman has truly created a world that aesthetically demands your attention. The detail in the dark, metallic/computerized world is inventive and intriguing to behold. From the costumes, to the piles of bodies, to the character development of changing faces, to the stage shows of murder, there is a lot going on and your eyes will be assaulted with visual after visual, not a break in sight. With a mixture of drama and camp, the disgusting mixes with the absurd for some fantastic setpieces. I cannot stop thinking of an early scene in the graveyard, Shilo, leaving the indoors to catch an insect, stumbling upon the Graverobber and the police and Repoman chasing after him. The fog and grime, juxtaposed with Terrance Zdunich’s voice, (by far the best of the bunch, very creepy), add suspense and wonder from his confidence of not getting caught and her fear that she will. And the falling into a pile of dead bodies on the other side of a stone wall adds to the look as well.

As far as the acting goes, it’s a mixed bag too. I really liked Alexa Vega as Shilo, she plays the young girl wanting to be free nicely, and loved Anthony Stewart Head as Nathan/Repoman. His constant transformation from father/doctor to monster/killer is great—oh what the removal of glasses and slick-backed hair can do to your image, especially when your eyes gain a menacing glint. Definitely the strongest of the bunch, I was captivated by his conflicted self, trying his best to be the father his daughter needs while also punishing himself for what he thinks he did to his wife. As for the rest, I have to admit to enjoying the Largo family, if still thinking they were all horrible. Paul Sorvino is the only person doing an operatic voice and it is out of place; his children are just plain weird. Containing the most campy and hammy performances, the utter absurdity of Paris Hilton’s Amber, Ogre’s face-changing Pavi, and Bill Moseley’s over-the-top psychopath Luigi bring a smile to your face for the laughs, but also a grimace due to the unpolished deliveries.

I have to say, that while it didn’t blow me away as I hoped it would, Repo! is very much worth a visit. Hoping the next two installments do get made, I hope the writers may get them a bit more flowing musically. Bousman definitely has the aesthetic down, complete with the comic book cut scenes and flashbacks. Disturbing, yes; entertaining, of course—despite the subject matter; complete success, maybe not quite. The makings for cult status are there; hopefully Bousman can continue creating inventively creepy films. If nothing else, he has an eye to make the disgustingly vile look beautiful.

Repo! The Genetic Opera 7/10

Don't you see my face is shiny? ... [Rec]
Topic: film review
Here we have another example why people can’t stand Hollywood. 2007 saw the release of the Spanish horror/thriller [Rec], and instead of its great success bringing it overseas for a theatrical release, America decides to create its own water-downed version called Quarantine. These Spaniards have a knack for the scary these days. Think a mix between The Descent and Blair Witch Project and you will get an idea of what [Rec] is. It’s all on a routine call to rescue a woman and get her to the hospital, but as you will see, thanks to a TV crew duo filming the firefighters on the job, it’s not your run-of-the-mill simple task. With great foreshadowing in the truck, the driver saying they don’t put the siren on for non-emergencies, the mission spirals out of control almost on arrival. Shot by the TV cameraman, the screen shakes and whips around to see what detail it can—I’m sure Cloverfield took much from this—in a controlled chaos that feels ad-libbed yet you know it was all orchestrated to amp up the scares, keeping things out of view until the absolute final moment.

Films like this have a tendency to contain some stilted acting, but that is not the case. Everyone involved comes across very naturally, as though it really is a found tape that documented the incident. Our entry point into the tale is Manuela Velasco’s Ángela Vidal, a professional at her work, yet very casual to lend well to her show “While We Were Asleep”. She keeps things light and jokey with the firefighters who explain that the odds of getting a fire call are slim to none; they will probably just need to rescue a pet if anything. The men she interviews come off as nervous in front of the camera, yet composed and confident when put into action. I am a believer in that fact being the sign of good performances. The heroic character, “acting” nervous and shy when the situation calls for it, like a bad actor, is the kind of role I enjoy. One of my favorite moments comes when Ángela interviews César and he thinks it’s this flashy thing that he must prepare and look his best for. When told the camera is rolling, he puts his finger to his chin and poses to look educated and important. It’s a great bit part from Carlos Lasarte.

What really makes the film a success, though, is the break-neck pace and lack of information. We as an audience are on the same boat as the characters in the apartment building, being quarantined due to the chance of a fatal disease being on the loose. No one knows what is happening, not even the policeman locked inside as well. Only when a Health Inspector enters do some questions get answered, but the full-scope of what is happening won’t have light shed upon it until the very end. The zombie aspect of what is trapped inside with them plays out beautifully as it is never blatantly shown. To compare again with the great British flick The Descent, darkness shrouds the creatures lurking and the camera serves as its own blockade too. Even when they are shown, it’s mostly as stationary, harmless people, until they attack. All involved feel no remorse in their bid to survive, killing—or thinking they’ve killed—anyone in the way without a second thought.

The actors are all just a part of the story, we never get any background information, nor do we need it. This is meant to be a filmed account of an incident that the authorities would do their best to keep under wraps, and if I was to compare to the numerous others I’ve seen like it, [Rec] achieves the aesthetic best. Yes, I think Cloverfield is a better film, but that is because it is a film, whereas this is a hand-held event, without the necessity for a three-act structure; it just is what it is. Everything becomes a part of the whole, no one stands out as a lead or hero or villain. In the end, every person trapped inside is just one more piece of food for the infected to hunt and devour; no one is any better than the next.

And while the whole thing moves forward without a break, inevitably showing how they have been left inside, not to discover who will survive and who won’t, but to contain the disease and destroy every last trace, it all culminates and leads towards the ending. The final ten minutes or so, finally unveiling what had been going on to unleash this horror, is absolutely superb. Shot with the flash bulb of the camera, the light is dim, darkness always creeping in at the edges, until even that becomes broken. But it only gets better as a result, the camera switching to the night-vision’s narrow sphere of sight, showing everything in a gray/green negative. What occurs is pretty harrowing and gruesome, but it’s shot with such care for realism that it becomes the ultimate conclusion for what has occurred. Just a brilliant final shot to end the horror; I can’t believe directors Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza would risk ruining it with the in production sequel [Rec] 2. Hopefully it will be relevant, if unnecessary. It’s easy to say America wants the money and to not have to read Spanish subtitles, hence remaking it just a short year later, but to have the original minds risk credibility with a sequel, you have to hope it’s a story that deserves to be told and not a cheap way to make more cash.

[Rec] 8/10

You want a medal? ... The Naked Kiss
Topic: film review
Here it is, my first foray into Samuel Fuller’s world of pulp, The Naked Kiss. I still don’t quite know what my feelings are. When the ending credits rolled, I was a bit indifferent, but after a heady discussion with my viewing friends, that initial ho-hum—“it was entertaining at least”—thought process became, “yeah, I guess it does have a lot more going for it, if you take the time to look”. And I think this is the point to get across. The Naked Kiss is chock-full of detail and specific plot points, which may at first appear to just be overload and nonsense, but eventually prove to be crucially enlightening to the tale. It takes an audience that understands the time period the film was made, viewers that know of and enjoy French New Wave, and people who can appreciate a heightened reality, realizing that the campy acting is just part of the film’s style, to be successful. Like pulp fiction novels and zines, the aesthetic is one of economy and lesser art, but the fact that it knows this—fusing attributes from film noir and soap opera-like scripting—makes it so much more.

The thing you hear is how the opening five minutes will blow your mind. The seeming absurdity of it all—a bald prostitute beating a man up with her shoe—throws you for a loop until the rest of the story commences, two years after that event. However, it isn’t just that scene putting you in an off-kilter position, the opening credits themselves puzzle too. It all starts off normally until we get a list of the people playing the children, then Candy’s girls, and finally Candy’s Bon-Bons … try wrapping your head around those before the film uncovers the mystery. Oh, and don’t forget that credit for “Charlie” playing himself, the best inside joke of the entire film.

With the beginning nonsense out of the way, the story starts up again in a quiet town named Grantville. Kelly (Constance Towers) steps off the bus and turns heads with her looks, including that of local law enforcement Captain Griff (Anthony Eisley). He takes the newcomer to his apartment where he verifies her occupation and warns her to get out of town and cross into the next where Candy will be able to take care of her. We soon discover that Griff has been cleaning up his jurisdiction by welcoming all the “women of the night” just to pass them on to the brothel nextdoor—keeping tabs and relations with them while maintaining the wholesome façade of his own home. A façade is all it is, though, much to his surprise, once the secrets start to be brought to light.

After Kelly looks in the mirror at Griff’s, she decides to once and for all turn her life around. She finds a nice room for rent with the local seamstress and then a job as a therapist for handicapped children, something the town is known for, what with the generosity of town namesake J.L. Grant (Michael Dante). Grandson of the town’s founder, Grant is a mountain of a man, always traveling, bringing gifts, caring for the local needy, and even a war hero, having saved his best friend Griff in Korea. It is when he begins a love affair with the reformed Kelly that the town soon shows its dark underbelly. Grantville’s veneer is dissolved as everyone soon gets shown as liars or cheats, looking out for only themselves, and others prove to be involved in crimes such as pedophilia, right under the nose of the town. This subject matter, especially, is handled interestingly to comply with censorship while still retaining its weight.

While the story may disturb some—I know child abuse could be a killer for some people whether they were enjoying the movie before that point or not—it is the construction that will end up alienating many. To keep with the pulp aesthetic, Fuller never shies from holding details in focus after a deliberate zoom to blatantly get a point across, nor is he afraid to lend his characters a certain creepiness. The handicapped children, for instance, are shown in close-up very often, dressed as pirates, singing, or just being made to stand on their crutches while the nurses move in and out between them. Even an odd scene where they are shown running around, as if in a dream, becomes hyper-real; all of the young actors acting as though they were told to be a tad off-kilter and appear mentally handicapped as well as physically. Then, of course, there is the karate chopping prostitute, Grant’s butler who seems to be the only normal person in the entire film, the head nurse who only wants to see the town’s emperor with hopes of a gift, and numerous other bit parts that become unforgettable due to their demeanor, not necessarily their importance to the plot.

In the end, I do feel the need to recommend The Naked Kiss to any serious film lovers out there. If you aren’t willing to delve deeper than the surface and find all the different motifs strewn about, hidden via the purposely-campy acting that stays consistent with the film’s world, do not bother wasting your time. It is definitely a movie that warrants repeated viewings, asking you to question why recording devices are so important, (tape recorders, films of Venice, etc), how Griff can be so blinded to the fact that atrocities are going on right in front of him, or whether characters’ motivations are more plainly seen the second time after knowing who they all really are. Don’t expect to be shocked by gruesome events or risqué shots, but instead by the surreal world you will be transported to. As one of my friends said at the screening, “David Lynch must have seen this.” He spoke in regards to Lynch’s Blue Velvet, but I would go a step further in comparing to “Twin Peaks”. That small town was all roses until a prom queen’s death uncovers the hellish world unable to stay contained. Grantville is not far off.

The Naked Kiss 8/10

Til the dice read five or eight ... Jumanji
Topic: film review
Growing up, if asked who my favorite illustrator was, I’d always reply with Chris Van Allsburg. My elementary school years in Florida saw our librarian reading us many of his lusciously detailed books and I fell in love with the paintings as well as the stories. So when I saw that Jumanji had been made into a film, I was very excited. Watching it back in 1995, I think I really had fun, and revisiting it now keeps a lot of that childish enjoyment intact, even if the special effects may not have aged well. Going through the first little bit, a prologue if you will, I was completely in the dark, not remembering any of those moments. It’s been even longer since I last read the book, but I want to say that backstory was added for cinematic effect, although I could be totally wrong there. Either way, it is a nice set-up, starting in the 1800’s as two young kids bury the game in hopes to rid the world of it, only to be found again by Alan Parrish in 1969, transporting him into the jungle world for 26 years until two new children stumble upon its drumming.

Special effects are a very interesting thing. Whenever you get groundbreaking, never been better graphics, they will never hold up with time … well maybe not never. I recall films from my childhood that were so vividly magical, yet when I revisit them now I can hardly understand what I could have been thinking. Stop-motion animation or blue-screen work that is a different tint or animatronic creatures feeling plastic, if it’s fake it will look fake when you become accustomed to newer technology. This is true with Jumanji, but being a children’s fantasy it doesn’t hurt the replay value. Sure the backgrounds start to look flat, telestrating that an effect will be coming because you know there is a blue-screen behind the actor, and interaction with computer elements becomes forced as the humans don’t quite match up when touching the objects not really there, but it still works. The lion is quite effective, the set-piece water and quick growing vines portray some realism, and really the only things that may be a touch off are the monkeys, (very cartoon-like), the stampeding animals, (definitely not in the same color scheme of environment with what they run through), the jelly-like plastic spiders, and the quicksand floors. Otherwise, you kind of give it the benefit of the doubt because I truly believe the story holds up strong and you will be engrossed in the plot progression, hiding the inadequacies of effects.

The film is an inventive tale about a game that affects the real world. You role the dice and bring creatures from Jumanji into your own living room. It’s a dark magic that rears its ugly head first by entrapping a young boy until the next player rolls a five or eight. His disappearance so frightens his friend, however, that she runs off and seeks psychiatric help over the next three decades to prove to her that it never happened. As a result, young Alan Parrish grows up in the jungle world of violence and fantasy, only to be brought back as a grown man when the new inhabitants of his now-deceased parent’s house roll the dice themselves. Judy and Peter start to understand what is happening, and unlike Alan and Sarah, they read the second half of the instructions which state that only when the game is won and the word Jumanji spoken do the fantastical elements entered into their world go away. While it might not be “real”, it is all very much alive and solid until the game takes it back again at the end.

The cast resides in the tale very nicely, containing many familiar faces and effective turns. Alan, the boy trapped and returned, is played as an adult by the always fun Robin Williams. It’s a somewhat more subdued role for him, yet the knowledge of all these creatures and having first-hand lived in Jumanji, allows for a little of his manic mannerisms to show up. But I think his relationship with the adult Sarah, played by Bonnie Hunt, works best. The two of them are very much still children—one had been trapped in a fictional world and the other in her own head. Only now, so many years later, do they finally have a chance to grow up—and with a very intriguing and somewhat surprising ending, they get to do so in more ways than you may think.

There are also some nice small supporting roles, including Bebe Neuwirth as the present-day children’s, (Judy and Peter), aunt; Jonathan Hyde as Alan’s father and fictional villain Van Pelt, who is very much an embodiment of the father; and David Alan Grier as “Soulman” Carl Bentley. Grier is a lot of fun playing someone from Alan’s past that becomes a policeman, with his new job putting him right in the mix of things in the present. The two roles that really make the film work, however, are the new game players played by Kirsten Dunst and Bradley Pierce. Both are great as two youngsters who are battling their own fears about what is happening while also trying to be the “adult” figures to Alan and Sarah, keeping them on task to finish the game they started and hopefully bring their world back to normal.

Jumanji 6/10

Why does everyone want my car? ... Gran Torino
Topic: film review
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big Clint Eastwood, the director, fan. Mystic River was one of my favorite films from its release year and Million Dollar Baby deserved much of its acclaim, if not the actual best picture Oscar. However, Gran Torino is getting buzz like crazy. It hasn’t even opened wide yet and already ranks #184 of all time on IMDB. I’ll agree that it is a very good movie, well composed and paced with a fantastic final act; I just can’t quite allow myself to call it a masterpiece. As I said, I’m a fan of Eastwood the director, not necessarily Eastwood the actor, and, with his performance here as Walt, I won’t be changing that mindset. I found myself laughing more often at his growls and scowls than feeling fear or menace. He isn’t the only one at fault, though; I think everyone falls pretty flat acting-wise here. I’ll give the Hmong characters some slack being that they aren’t trained actors, but instead authentic people from that culture, and kudos to the filmmakers for going that route. As for our lead, the priest (a very uninspired Christopher Carley), and even a couple good actors as Walt’s sons in very limited roles, I found their performances detracting from a solid story.

What I liked about Gran Torino was its humor. You may be thinking: what is this guy talking about? But honestly, I laughed a lot, and I think it was intentional. The first three-quarters set up the climax to be powerfully dramatic with much deserved weight and as a result needs to have an infusion of levity to keep us off-guard when the bottom finally falls out. I wouldn’t be surprised if Clint decided to act as Walt rather than find a better actor because he just wanted to have fun with racial epithets—boy there are plenty. His utter disregard for the opinions of those he insults and his overly tough exterior just make the words funny to me. Many times he is saying these things because that is “how men talk” with friends. His comradery with folks allow him the freedom to act like a bigot without recourse, (my favorite character in the film being one of these men, John Carroll Lynch’s barber, who is involved in a priceless scene with Clint and Bee Vang as Thao), and that lightness makes his under-the-breath tirades become acceptable. Now, they aren’t acceptable as far as societal right and wrong, but his character is built to be this Korean War vet, an old and bitter man, so you almost have to give him the benefit of the doubt. In his mind, the country he fought for is now being over-run by those he was ordered to kill. Seeing the denigration of his neighborhood and the utter lack of respect on behalf of the youth, he paints the simple picture that it’s all a result of the turning tides of immigration.

This humor, I believe, is what makes the ending so effective. Eastwood goes through a transformation from old man that wants to be left alone, to old man that finally has someone he can be a father to. Does it change his attitude or demeanor? Absolutely not. Does Eastwood have the acting range to make that evolution apparent on screen if necessary? Probably not, so let’s say it was good that while he softened to the Asians living next door, he never let his guard down … that would have just come off as inauthentic and manipulative. By getting to understand Walt Kowalski’s character, however, allows us to believe he would do what he does. Never clicking with his own sons, never being able to be a father to them and listened to for his experiences made him distant to them. Coming into the life of a traditional Hmong family, on-the-other-hand, allows him to finally feel that patriarchal duty. Ahney Her’s Sue tells Walt that she wishes her own father were more like him because he was too old-school for a boy like Thao. Walt is confused thinking that he is set in the old ways too, but Sue shows the cultural disparity by saying, “but you’re American”. The customs and way of life are different, and after all these years blaming the Orient for making him into a killer, a sinner, Walt can open his eyes to the humanity they all share.

While the gang backdrop really just stands as a way to give Walt a measure of redemption, it is the main catalyst for all that happens in the film. He never would have gotten to know the Lor family if Thao wasn’t made to steal his Gran Torino as a gang initiation, and the conclusion never would have happened if the bond between he and Sue and Thao hadn’t sprung out from that event. The film is not about the opposition and violence of those street thugs, though, it is about the relationship of Walt and Thao. While the script does wonders at making that friendship work, the acting just doesn’t do it justice. Again, I found myself laughing each time Clint scowled at the boy—it was just too over the top. And unfortunately for Bee Vang, his delivery came across as staged and reading from a prompter. He is young, though, and inexperienced in acting, so I can’t blame him too much. Instead I blame Eastwood, especially in one instance when Vang is locked in the old man’s basement, screaming at Clint to let him out. The anger and frustration is so forced that the director should have known when to cut. Yet Eastwood not only shows us the pounding on the door once, but a second time after he comes back into frame to explain what it feels like to kill a man, this time lingering on the boy even longer. It’s a moment like this that brings an amateur quality to an otherwise stellar tale, making the sub-par performances overshadow the tightly constructed plot.

Gran Torino 7/10

Moby what?! ... Matilda
Topic: film review
Leave it to the warped mind of Danny DeVito to take a Roald Dahl book and adapt it into a very enjoyable children’s film that has enough crazy fun for adults to watch as well. A very apparent passion project for him, DeVito stars as the father to the titular Matilda, the story’s narrator, (which is a bit confusing since the father neglecting her is also the one telling the audience about what she is doing, but it’s just the same voice, not the same character), and is the film’s director, making sure his vision comes across. I’ll admit to never having read a Dahl book, but I do generally enjoy the films made from them, (except the Burton Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). This one is no exception, as the heightened reality is played just tongue-in-cheek enough to stay cute while also having an edge of danger and eccentricity. Kids should love this little girl with powers and intellect, punishing her parents, and adults will enjoy the absurdity and fantastical elements, reminding them of a time when stories and fun ruled the day.

Who better to portray this savant’s white trash, crooked parents than the unique pairing of real-life husband and wife team DeVito and Rhea Perlman? The two of them exude sleaze throughout, always trying to make their daughter into a true Wormwood, one who doesn’t waste her time in books when she can get all the information she needs, quicker, by watching television. I mean, who would rather read Great Expectations when you can watch the Million Dollar Sticky game show? DeVito excels in roles like this, just put a salesman moustache on him and he’s the conman stereotype you know and love, putting stolen car parts (how great are the packages wrapped in the shape of the part they are?) into cheap shells and making 200% profit. And Perlman is transformed into a shrill gaudy looking woman, so confident that her wardrobe and appearance are beautiful that the fact she looks like a ten-cent prostitute is even more entertaining. Her whiny voice and ability to laugh at her husband is priceless; I’d have gone to the library to Xerox adoption papers, just in case, as well if they were my guardians.

As far as the story goes, what at first just appears to be a hyper-reality—bright colors mixed with drab and dull sets, a precocious six-year-old making breakfast and going to the library herself to learn, and a very black and white delineation between good and evil—becomes so much more in the second half. Eventually Matilda learns that she has telekinetic powers; she can move things with her mind. This aspect brings the tale into even more of a fantasy world, but it works in spades, especially with the introduction of a new villain besides her parents, Agatha Trunchbull. This taskmaster of a school principal will not allow the children to learn anything creative. She is unafraid to throw a child into the next town with her super-strength, nor to berate anyone who crosses her path. With a revelatory relationship between this witch and Matilda’s favorite teacher Miss Honey, the young girl does what she can to save her classmates from the abuse and intellectual prison they are being educated in.

This trio of actresses is at the core of the film’s success. The always radiant Embeth Davidtz plays Miss Honey as a woman who wants change, going behind the back of her boss to attempt at teaching the children something good and wholesome, to get them to find their creativity. Very much a child herself, enjoying the simple things in life and just as afraid of Trunchbull as the children, her calm, shy demeanor is a perfect sidekick to Matilda’s strong-willed older-than-her-years heroine. As far as Agatha Trunchbull goes, Pam Ferris is absolutely perfect. A DeVito favorite, (she is also in the classic Death to Smoochy), Ferris is witch incarnate. Possibly having killed her brother to take his mansion, she has oppressed her niece, kept everything sweet and nice for herself, and became a strong-woman with immense throwing ability. A formidable foe indeed, her scowl and heavy-hitting footsteps as she runs through her house trying to capture an intruder are so over-the-top that they work.

The true star, though, besides some great art direction, is young Matilda herself, Mara Wilson. Yes, that cute little girl with the lisp from Mrs. Doubtfire is the heroine of the film. Able to handle the appearance of a six-year-old while also acting like someone so much older, Wilson embodies the character three-dimensionally. The facial reactions when she is thinking what the narrator is telling us are perfect, her smile and sheer joy at helping herself and others, and the girlish voice saying such educated things all make for a role that little kids can watch and aspire to be. Because at the heart of this story is the message that no matter where you come from, no matter what hardships and obstacles stand in your way from being an important contributor to society, you can find a way to succeed. Maybe you shouldn’t leave the house to explore the neighborhood at four-years-old or put peroxide in your father’s hair-oil, but you get the idea.

Matilda 6/10