Pedro Almodovar, Spain's reigning king of cinema, has made a very long and fruitful career out of subverting and subtly lampooning traditional morals, religion, sexuality, and family values. It seems implausible in today's more open political climate, but Almodovar was once an underground revolutionary when Spain still toiled under the thumb of the despotic rule of Francisco Franco. The director was a wanted man, as much for his subversive films as his open homosexuality. He has long been the champion of Spanish women, frankly portraying their secret pleasures, misdeeds, and heartbreaks. While the subject matter of his films has been considered worthy, his methods often are not. Displaying a joyous fondness for campy delivery, Almodovar has at times come under fire for his hyperbolic style, derided as amateur. I dunno, maybe his critics have a point. As for myself, I have been a fan of Almodovar's films, amateur delivery and all, for some time. Say what you will, critics, but no director aside from Krzysztof Kieslowski has ever wielded a camera with such complexity and raw devastation as Almodovar.
Volver (2006), like all Almodovar films, is principally concerned with sex and death, and the far-reaching effects those two can have. And like all his films, events are set in motion by sudden and violent tragedy. Like the trigger of a gun, 14-year-old Paula's accidental killing of the man she believes to be her father sets in motion an explosive chain of events that just might rip her mother Raimunda's (Penelope Cruz) family apart. Right on cue, Raimunda's mother Irene (beloved Spanish screen legend Carmen Maura) appears to Raimunda's sister Sole (Lola Duenas) to dispense some wisdom and clear up a few facts about the family's past. Problem is, Irene's been dead for four years, immolated in the same housefire that also took her husband's life. Is she a ghost? A hallucination? Or something else entirely?
While Raimunda revives the business for a struggling restaurant, and keeps everyone away from the nasty secret hiding in the freezer, Irene's spirit takes up residence in Sole's apartment. When Augustina, an old family friend, faces a diagnosis of terminal cancer, her own search for answers disturbs the skeletons in Irene's family closet. Faced with an agonizing decision, Irene's spirit is forced to divulge a devastation secret. Like any good secret, its revelation sheds more light than intended, and Raimunda's own sad story is finally revealed as well.
I know, I know. That's all very vague. But the film's power lies in its slow unraveling, until no stone is left unturned. Every frame of the film is packed with meaning, and Almodovar's skill is drawing it out one bit at a time. The ghost of Irene is really just the personification of the director's literary motif: misdeeds thought buried will eventually resurface, like a ghost returning to its old haunts. The title itself is a subtle double entendre: "volver" means "to return," much like Irene's spirit and the troubles of the past. But "volver" can also be the verb in "volver loco," meaning "to go crazy," which is of course the final result of a past never laid to rest.
While not as emotionally powerful as his All About My Mother (1999) nor as visually creative as Talk to Her (2002), I would argue that Volver is Almodovar's best film. Abandoning the campy aesthetic of his previous films, Almodovar goes right for the gut with his most gritty and realistic effort to date. He gets some help from a terrific ensemble cast, including an Oscar-nominated Penelope Cruz doing the greatest work of her career. As good as Cruz is, she's upstaged by Carmen Maura's portrayal of the multi-faceted Irene.
While Almodovar fans may be wondering where his trademark fantastic visuals and subtle surrealism have gone, I urge them to let Volver grow on them. Believe me, it is no less complex for being realistic and linear. In fact, I believe this allows Almodovar's story, his exploration of themes very close to his heart, to shine through in a way it never quite has before.
Storyline & plot: 10/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 8/10
Performances: 10/10
The Reverend says: 9/10
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Pandorum
Other reviewers have disparaged Pandorum (2009) for being too derivative of a plethora of other genre staples, and having little room to be unique. You know what I say to that? They're absolutely correct. Any viewer well-versed in space scifi or action thrillers will certainly get more than one feeling of deja vu. A bunch of comparisons leaped to my mind during the course of the film. The most obvious of these is Alien (1979), but this comparison only holds up as far as the fact that Alien remains the template for all horror and thriller films set in space. Other more apt comparisons are The Descent (2005) and the LotR trilogy in terms of creature design, and The Road Warrior (1981), Resident Evil (2002), and The Wizard of Oz (1939) for plot elements. These analogies are all valid. The thing is, despite being a little muddled with cliches and pulled in too many directions, the film eventually delivers on its slow build with a white-knuckle final 20 minutes and a couple of twists, one only so-so, but one that I definitely did not see coming.
Corporal Bower (Ben Foster) awakes suddenly from suspended animation somewhere in the bowels of a dying spaceship. Suffering from memory loss as a side effect of hypersleep, Bower and his commanding officer, Payton (Dennis Quaid), attempt to piece together who and where they are, as well as their larger purpose out in space. It soon becomes clear that something disastrous has happened: the ship's main power is down, there's no communication from the flight crew, and Payton and Bower are unable to reach the bridge.
While Payton stays behind to serve as the navigation and communication link, Bower sets out for the ship's reactor, hoping to reboot the power systems and gain access to the bridge. It's here that the film gives way from subtle psychological horror to action thriller. At first Bower finds the ship a ghost town: a labyrinth of empty dark corridors. But he'll soon be running for his life from a band of hideous orc-like creatures, sticking to the shadows and racing against time to reboot the reactor before it cycles down for good. He gets a little help along the way from a rag-tag group of survivors: Manh, a member of the mission's agricultural department (portrayed by world champion kickboxer and mixed martial artist Cung Le), botanist, self-appointed keeper of the ship's biological specimens, and all-around hottie Nadia (Antje Traue), and the loathsome and mentally-unbalanced Leland, one-time cook.
During their mad dash to the reactor chamber, the survivors try to sort out the glaring questions. What are the creatures and where did they come from? What happened to the flight crew? What happened to the ship? And beyond those, what was their mission, where were they headed and where are they now?
I think this film's main problem is that director Christian Alvart is never quite sure what kind of film he's trying to make. He vacillates between psychological horror, creature scifi, and fast-paced action thriller. Any of these angles, properly developed, would have worked great, but Alvart's genre mash-up leaves something to be desired.
What Pandorum lacks in genre cohesion, though, it more than makes up for in some phenomenal sets and effects, and some very solid performances, led by the always powerful Ben Foster. The set design from Richard Bridgland and Bernhard Henrich is nothing short of amazing, intricate, and highly layered. Borrowing once again from Ridley Scott's Alien as well as The Matrix (1999), Bridgland and Henrich succeed in bringing the massive spaceship to life using an organic style, highlighting the ship's role as a living ecosystem. This set design echoes a style used to great effect in 1997's Event Horizon, another space horror directed by Pandorum's producer, Paul W.S. Anderson.
Speaking of The Matrix, another minor sin committed here is a dependence on cliched martial arts type fighting sequences, complete with jarring and confusing rapid-fire editing. I mean, come on, there's only so many times Bower can be thrown around like a ragdoll or fall off of a platform before he breaks something. Most likely his back. But, like a video game, our hero takes a licking (or several) and keeps right on ticking. It's not a huge thing, but it is a little distracting.
Pandorum definitely could benefit from more solid direction, but it's still very good, very enjoyable, and it'll make you ponder a few anthropological, ethical, and cosmological questions.
Storyline & plot: 6/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Corporal Bower (Ben Foster) awakes suddenly from suspended animation somewhere in the bowels of a dying spaceship. Suffering from memory loss as a side effect of hypersleep, Bower and his commanding officer, Payton (Dennis Quaid), attempt to piece together who and where they are, as well as their larger purpose out in space. It soon becomes clear that something disastrous has happened: the ship's main power is down, there's no communication from the flight crew, and Payton and Bower are unable to reach the bridge.
While Payton stays behind to serve as the navigation and communication link, Bower sets out for the ship's reactor, hoping to reboot the power systems and gain access to the bridge. It's here that the film gives way from subtle psychological horror to action thriller. At first Bower finds the ship a ghost town: a labyrinth of empty dark corridors. But he'll soon be running for his life from a band of hideous orc-like creatures, sticking to the shadows and racing against time to reboot the reactor before it cycles down for good. He gets a little help along the way from a rag-tag group of survivors: Manh, a member of the mission's agricultural department (portrayed by world champion kickboxer and mixed martial artist Cung Le), botanist, self-appointed keeper of the ship's biological specimens, and all-around hottie Nadia (Antje Traue), and the loathsome and mentally-unbalanced Leland, one-time cook.
During their mad dash to the reactor chamber, the survivors try to sort out the glaring questions. What are the creatures and where did they come from? What happened to the flight crew? What happened to the ship? And beyond those, what was their mission, where were they headed and where are they now?
I think this film's main problem is that director Christian Alvart is never quite sure what kind of film he's trying to make. He vacillates between psychological horror, creature scifi, and fast-paced action thriller. Any of these angles, properly developed, would have worked great, but Alvart's genre mash-up leaves something to be desired.
What Pandorum lacks in genre cohesion, though, it more than makes up for in some phenomenal sets and effects, and some very solid performances, led by the always powerful Ben Foster. The set design from Richard Bridgland and Bernhard Henrich is nothing short of amazing, intricate, and highly layered. Borrowing once again from Ridley Scott's Alien as well as The Matrix (1999), Bridgland and Henrich succeed in bringing the massive spaceship to life using an organic style, highlighting the ship's role as a living ecosystem. This set design echoes a style used to great effect in 1997's Event Horizon, another space horror directed by Pandorum's producer, Paul W.S. Anderson.
Speaking of The Matrix, another minor sin committed here is a dependence on cliched martial arts type fighting sequences, complete with jarring and confusing rapid-fire editing. I mean, come on, there's only so many times Bower can be thrown around like a ragdoll or fall off of a platform before he breaks something. Most likely his back. But, like a video game, our hero takes a licking (or several) and keeps right on ticking. It's not a huge thing, but it is a little distracting.
Pandorum definitely could benefit from more solid direction, but it's still very good, very enjoyable, and it'll make you ponder a few anthropological, ethical, and cosmological questions.
Storyline & plot: 6/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Wild at Heart
So, yeah, it's true that the much-maligned Nic Cage has never been a good actor. Ever. He has come very close to being able to act on a few occasions, notably in Leaving Las Vegas (1995), Bringing Out the Dead (1999), and Adaptation (2002). But 3 out of, let's see, according to IMDB, 62 film performances is not a very good success ratio. Nonetheless, I don't hate him as much as many others. To his credit, he's starred in a number of films that, while not necessarily Oscar-caliber, are fun and quite enjoyable. To wit: Face/Off (1997), The Rock (1996), Con Air (1997). I must confess my great sin of never having seen the Coen Brothers' Raising Arizona (1988), so I can't speak to that one. But here's the undeniable truth: Cage's performance as an Elvis-esque manslaughtering parole-violator in David Lynch's Wild at Heart (1990) is one of the most atrocious things ever committed to film.
His lines are delivered either hurriedly, with absolutely no feeling, like he's reading it off a cue card. Or he swings the other the way and goes so over the top that you'd think he was gunning for a spot on "All My Children". And yeah, I realize that sort of soap-opera pastiche is part of Lynch's style, but come on, Nic, at least be consistently over-the-top. In fact, one of the film's major weaknesses is that its two leads often get overwhelmed (and out-acted) by the supporting ensemble cast, which includes a number of Lynch favorites: Isabella Rossellini, Grace Zabriski, Sherilyn Fenn, and Harry Dean Stanton, among others. The centerpiece of the supporting cast is Willem Dafoe as the nauseatingly skeazy John Waters lookalike Bobby Peru. Dafoe, as always, does not disappoint, and completely steals the entire movie even though he has only a few minutes of screentime.
Wild at Heart follows Lula (Laura Dern) and Sailor (Cage), a pair of star-crossed lovers on the run from Lula's momma (Diane Ladd, Laura Dern's actual mother). Lula's momma, owner of the interesting name of Marietta Fortune, is one well-connected woman. In her fury at Sailor over taking her little girl away (and once upon a time rebuffing her own sexual advances in a public toilet), she sends a veritable army on the lovers' trail towards the Big Easy. First up is private investigator and Marietta's sometime boyfriend Johnnie Farragut (Stanton). Poor schlepy Farragut has no idea what kind of monster Marietta is, or that he's not the only chip she's called in on her hunt for Sailor and Lula. Also on the case is mobster Marcelles Santos, who enlists a whole slew of crazy characters: a cajun voodoo priestess (Zabriski), the proprietor of an S&M bordello, and the snake-in-the-grass ex-marine Bobby Peru. Lula and Sailor's mad sex-and-thrash-metal-fueled dash out to California is cut short when a serious lack of funds strands them in Big Tuna, a god-forsaken West Texas shithole of a town. And in Big Tuna, Bobby Peru makes Sailor an offer he can't refuse. Although he'll wish he had.
In Wild at Heart, David Lynch makes several amateur filmmaking mistakes. First off, he lets his desire for certain oddball acting pairs get in the way of making truly informed casting decisions. Cage and Dern are repeatedly upstaged by minor players. Cage's atrocious southern accent and hokey Elvis impersonations get real old real fast, and as far as I can tell, Dern's only qualification for this film is a willingness to get naked a lot. Nice body, but I could do without the face. And don't even get me started on the numerous and frankly nauseating sex scenes.
Secondly, Lynch is just throwing way too many characters out there. A few of them are completely superfluous. Johnnie Farragut is a complete waste of Harry Dean Stanton's considerable talents. Other throw-away characters include Zabriski's voodoo lady, Sherilyn Fenn's doomed car-crash victim, and the dog-obsessed OO Spool (the late great Jack Nance).
Lastly, and this is the biggest transgression, Lynch wields his Wizard of Oz symbolism like a sledgehammer, repeatedly smashing the audience in the face with similarities that are tenuous, contrived, or both. See, Marietta is supposed to be the Wicked Witch of the West, and Lula is Dorothy, and Sailor is.... um.... the Scarecrow, maybe? The point is, the only way the audience recognizes these "similarities" is because Lynch literally verbalizes the comparison through dialogue. Which is more believable, a connection that I recognize on my own or one that is literally thrown in my face with a hand-wrapped explanation? Sorry Lynch, I'm just not buying it. Go peddle your phony symbolism somewhere else.
The bottom line is, Wild at Heart is the most tepid Lynch movie I've seen. Mullholland Drive was confusing as shit, but at least it had decent acting.
Storyline & plot: 4/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 4/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
His lines are delivered either hurriedly, with absolutely no feeling, like he's reading it off a cue card. Or he swings the other the way and goes so over the top that you'd think he was gunning for a spot on "All My Children". And yeah, I realize that sort of soap-opera pastiche is part of Lynch's style, but come on, Nic, at least be consistently over-the-top. In fact, one of the film's major weaknesses is that its two leads often get overwhelmed (and out-acted) by the supporting ensemble cast, which includes a number of Lynch favorites: Isabella Rossellini, Grace Zabriski, Sherilyn Fenn, and Harry Dean Stanton, among others. The centerpiece of the supporting cast is Willem Dafoe as the nauseatingly skeazy John Waters lookalike Bobby Peru. Dafoe, as always, does not disappoint, and completely steals the entire movie even though he has only a few minutes of screentime.
Wild at Heart follows Lula (Laura Dern) and Sailor (Cage), a pair of star-crossed lovers on the run from Lula's momma (Diane Ladd, Laura Dern's actual mother). Lula's momma, owner of the interesting name of Marietta Fortune, is one well-connected woman. In her fury at Sailor over taking her little girl away (and once upon a time rebuffing her own sexual advances in a public toilet), she sends a veritable army on the lovers' trail towards the Big Easy. First up is private investigator and Marietta's sometime boyfriend Johnnie Farragut (Stanton). Poor schlepy Farragut has no idea what kind of monster Marietta is, or that he's not the only chip she's called in on her hunt for Sailor and Lula. Also on the case is mobster Marcelles Santos, who enlists a whole slew of crazy characters: a cajun voodoo priestess (Zabriski), the proprietor of an S&M bordello, and the snake-in-the-grass ex-marine Bobby Peru. Lula and Sailor's mad sex-and-thrash-metal-fueled dash out to California is cut short when a serious lack of funds strands them in Big Tuna, a god-forsaken West Texas shithole of a town. And in Big Tuna, Bobby Peru makes Sailor an offer he can't refuse. Although he'll wish he had.
In Wild at Heart, David Lynch makes several amateur filmmaking mistakes. First off, he lets his desire for certain oddball acting pairs get in the way of making truly informed casting decisions. Cage and Dern are repeatedly upstaged by minor players. Cage's atrocious southern accent and hokey Elvis impersonations get real old real fast, and as far as I can tell, Dern's only qualification for this film is a willingness to get naked a lot. Nice body, but I could do without the face. And don't even get me started on the numerous and frankly nauseating sex scenes.
Secondly, Lynch is just throwing way too many characters out there. A few of them are completely superfluous. Johnnie Farragut is a complete waste of Harry Dean Stanton's considerable talents. Other throw-away characters include Zabriski's voodoo lady, Sherilyn Fenn's doomed car-crash victim, and the dog-obsessed OO Spool (the late great Jack Nance).
Lastly, and this is the biggest transgression, Lynch wields his Wizard of Oz symbolism like a sledgehammer, repeatedly smashing the audience in the face with similarities that are tenuous, contrived, or both. See, Marietta is supposed to be the Wicked Witch of the West, and Lula is Dorothy, and Sailor is.... um.... the Scarecrow, maybe? The point is, the only way the audience recognizes these "similarities" is because Lynch literally verbalizes the comparison through dialogue. Which is more believable, a connection that I recognize on my own or one that is literally thrown in my face with a hand-wrapped explanation? Sorry Lynch, I'm just not buying it. Go peddle your phony symbolism somewhere else.
The bottom line is, Wild at Heart is the most tepid Lynch movie I've seen. Mullholland Drive was confusing as shit, but at least it had decent acting.
Storyline & plot: 4/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 4/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
Friday, September 25, 2009
Spaced
"Spaced", a British television series that ran for two seasons from 1999-2000, is the brain child of then burgeoning comic mind Simon Pegg and stage actress turned writer Jessica Stevenson. Throw in a young director with a fair amount of television experience (Edgar Wright), add a trio of well-heeled and beloved TV character actors (Julia Deakin, Mark Heap, and Katy Carmichael), and top it off with Pegg's completely inexperienced childhood friend Nick Frost, and you have the recipe for a comedic gem heavily influenced by Stevenson's penchant for sci-fi themes.
Tim (Pegg) is a lazy knockabout comic artist working in a comic-book store and looking for his big break. Daisy (Stevenson) is an even lazier freelance journalist who struggles mightily to churn out any meaningful work. On the hunt for a London flat cheap enough to fit into her minimal-work lifestyle, Daisy meets Tim, fresh from being dumped by his long-time girlfriend. Being that Tim is also on the lookout for a cheap flat, the two decide to be flatmates. Turns out, there's a perfect apartment out there for everyone, and Daisy and Tim soon find one. Problem is, the landlady (Deakin) only wants "professional couples." In a plot device as old as television (see "Ned & Stacy", "Bosom Buddies", and "Three's Company", among many others), Tim and Daisy undertake an elaborate charade in order to secure the flat. Problem is, they're both too lazy to properly keep up appearances, and in the blink of an eye, their secret is out.
Joining Tim and Daisy in their deception is Tim's childhood friend Mike (Frost), an idiot savant whose main occupation is private first class in the Terrestrial Army (the British equivalent of the National Guard, if the National Guard were filled with the developmentally and socially disabled). There's also Twist (Carmichael), Daisy's cute yet empty-headed and shallow best friend, who soon develops an interest in co-conspirator Brian (Heap), a creepy tormented artist that lives below Tim and Daisy. The show unfolds around the group of friends and their struggles to find steady work and steady play while keeping the landlady Marsha in the dark as to the true nature of Tim and Daisy's relationship.
"Spaced" marks the beginning of what would be a very funny and very fruitful collaboration between Pegg and Wright. The duo would go on to write and produce the instant classic zomcom Shaun of the Dead (2004) and 2007's underrated follow-up Hot Fuzz, a send-up of '70s buddy-cop shows and Agatha Christie-style murder mysteries. It's with "Spaced" that we first see the Wright/Pegg cinematic style, prefiguring America's "Scrubs" with a penchant for extended flashbacks, flashforwards, and fantasy cut scenes. Influenced by Jessica Stevenson's love of science fiction, the show abounds with sci-fi parodies, send-ups, and references. From Romero's Living Dead movies to Lara Croft to "The X-Files" to The Matrix, everything's up for grabs. Hell, let's throw in a little Stephen King, Stanley Kubrick, and JRR Tolkien for good measure.
And don't even think about trying to casually watch this series. From trying to decipher the sometimes thick London accents and British slang, to following the fast-paced jumpcuts and timeshifts, to being on the lookout for the next sci-fi pop culture reference, "Spaced" will definitely keep you on your toes. Aside from simply referencing science-fiction, the series has a decidedly sci-fi style and ambiance. Guy Pratt's original music is great, taking inspiration from a wide spectrum of genre staples and fusing them. Pratt is partial to the heavy and high strings of such classics as Psycho (1960), Halloween (1978), and Friday the 13th (1980), and he uses them to great effect. Wright makes great use of lighting and filters to impart an appropriately spooky vibe to the scenes. And with a wide array of genre props and set-pieces, the style is perfected.
The bottom line is, it's a really funny show, particularly to those who can catch and appreciate most of the pop culture and scifi references. And at a whopping 14 episodes, it's not going to require a huge commitment on your part. The series can be viewed over a weekend.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 10/10
Music & mood: 8/10
Performances: 9/10
The Reverend says: 9/10
Tim (Pegg) is a lazy knockabout comic artist working in a comic-book store and looking for his big break. Daisy (Stevenson) is an even lazier freelance journalist who struggles mightily to churn out any meaningful work. On the hunt for a London flat cheap enough to fit into her minimal-work lifestyle, Daisy meets Tim, fresh from being dumped by his long-time girlfriend. Being that Tim is also on the lookout for a cheap flat, the two decide to be flatmates. Turns out, there's a perfect apartment out there for everyone, and Daisy and Tim soon find one. Problem is, the landlady (Deakin) only wants "professional couples." In a plot device as old as television (see "Ned & Stacy", "Bosom Buddies", and "Three's Company", among many others), Tim and Daisy undertake an elaborate charade in order to secure the flat. Problem is, they're both too lazy to properly keep up appearances, and in the blink of an eye, their secret is out.
Joining Tim and Daisy in their deception is Tim's childhood friend Mike (Frost), an idiot savant whose main occupation is private first class in the Terrestrial Army (the British equivalent of the National Guard, if the National Guard were filled with the developmentally and socially disabled). There's also Twist (Carmichael), Daisy's cute yet empty-headed and shallow best friend, who soon develops an interest in co-conspirator Brian (Heap), a creepy tormented artist that lives below Tim and Daisy. The show unfolds around the group of friends and their struggles to find steady work and steady play while keeping the landlady Marsha in the dark as to the true nature of Tim and Daisy's relationship.
"Spaced" marks the beginning of what would be a very funny and very fruitful collaboration between Pegg and Wright. The duo would go on to write and produce the instant classic zomcom Shaun of the Dead (2004) and 2007's underrated follow-up Hot Fuzz, a send-up of '70s buddy-cop shows and Agatha Christie-style murder mysteries. It's with "Spaced" that we first see the Wright/Pegg cinematic style, prefiguring America's "Scrubs" with a penchant for extended flashbacks, flashforwards, and fantasy cut scenes. Influenced by Jessica Stevenson's love of science fiction, the show abounds with sci-fi parodies, send-ups, and references. From Romero's Living Dead movies to Lara Croft to "The X-Files" to The Matrix, everything's up for grabs. Hell, let's throw in a little Stephen King, Stanley Kubrick, and JRR Tolkien for good measure.
And don't even think about trying to casually watch this series. From trying to decipher the sometimes thick London accents and British slang, to following the fast-paced jumpcuts and timeshifts, to being on the lookout for the next sci-fi pop culture reference, "Spaced" will definitely keep you on your toes. Aside from simply referencing science-fiction, the series has a decidedly sci-fi style and ambiance. Guy Pratt's original music is great, taking inspiration from a wide spectrum of genre staples and fusing them. Pratt is partial to the heavy and high strings of such classics as Psycho (1960), Halloween (1978), and Friday the 13th (1980), and he uses them to great effect. Wright makes great use of lighting and filters to impart an appropriately spooky vibe to the scenes. And with a wide array of genre props and set-pieces, the style is perfected.
The bottom line is, it's a really funny show, particularly to those who can catch and appreciate most of the pop culture and scifi references. And at a whopping 14 episodes, it's not going to require a huge commitment on your part. The series can be viewed over a weekend.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 10/10
Music & mood: 8/10
Performances: 9/10
The Reverend says: 9/10
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Gozu
I gotta tell you, Takashi Miike is the only director who routinely makes David Lynch look like Walt Disney. If Lynch and David Cronenburg had a monstrous love child, it would be Miike. His films are utterly horrifying. His cringe factor is through the roof. After watching a Miike film, this is what I want to do: vomit copiously, take a steaming hot shower and scrub myself with lye, and then curl up into the fetal position and silently weep. So, yeah, his films aren't for everyone. In fact, I don't even know if they're for anyone, but I find myself watching just the same. Gozu (2003) is no exception. In fact, it may just be the gold standard Miike film. With Gozu, we find all the recurring Miike themes thrown together. We have the gangsters and extreme violence of Ichi the Killer (2001), the bizarre sexuality of Visitor Q (2001), the surrealism of "MPD Psycho" (2000), and the visceral visuals and story elements of Audition (1999).
Minami, a novice Yakuza gets his first real assignment: eliminate Ozaki, a fellow Yakuza who's come unhinged and represents a liability to the crew. Travelling west to a Yakuza "dumping" facility in Nagoya, Minami wrestles with his task. Ozaki is clearly spiralling out of control, but he once saved Minami's life, and the young man has great respect for him. But if he returns to Tokyo with the job unfinished, his life will be forfeit. But before Minami can decide, the decision is made for him: Ozaki is killed in a car accident on the way to Nagoya. But when Ozaki's corpse mysteriously disappears, Minami frantically searches for the evidence that will keep his name off the Boss's hit list. In Nagoya, Minami enters into a world of violence, sex, and bizarre events he cannot begin to fathom. On the trail of an apparently not dead Ozaki, the novice runs afoul of a host of strange locals, including a lactating hotel manager and her child-like brother, a malicious cross-dressing restaraunteur, and a member of the Nagoya Yakuza, a man who believes (falsely) that he has a skin pigmentation disease. But it's when Minami runs across Gozu, a mythical cow-headed demon, that things get really weird. Minami eventually finds Ozaki, although in several forms he would never have expected, and the two head back to Tokyo with a plan to take down the Yakuza Boss.
So, yes, I was horrified through most of the movie, particularly the unforgettable final 5 minutes. But Gozu is less disturbing than Visitor Q and has the periodic comedic interludes that Audition lacks. And when you get down to it, when you strip away all of the absurdities and surrealism, the core story is very relatable. The conflict of professional duty versus personal affections is as old as time, and the heartwrenching decision to murder one's own brother feels very Greek mythology to me. Not to mention Judeo-Christian mythology. Against my better judgment, I found Gozu to be entertaining. You just have to have a strong stomach.
Beyond the strong central story, Gozu is also a well-made film. Miike makes great use of uncut long shots to establish an atmosphere of intimate confrontation between Ozaki and Minami. Kazunari Tanaka's props and effects are all superb, except for one electrocution scene that bordered on cartoonish. The music by Koji Endo and the sound effects from Hitoshi Tsurumaki complement each other seamlessly, blending to make a subtly unnerving backdrop which serves to heighten Minami's disorientation. Miike and screenwriter Sakichi Sato put together only the main elements of the narrative and did not write any dialogue. Actors received only their character's name and occupation prior to filming to keep the improv factor in play. Unlike many other loosely scripted ventures, Gozu shines. The story is almost completely dependent on Yuta Sone as Minami, and his genuine reactions to the oddities of Nagoya are key. The improv style captures Sone's genuine horror and befuddlement at just what the fucking fuck is going on in Nagoya. Without that strong lead, Gozu falls apart.
If you've never experienced a Miike film before, and you still want to after reading this, I suggest you try Ichi the Killer first, to ease you into Miike's style, then move onto Audition. Skip Visitor Q if you like; it's a little too gross. Then move on to Gozu to see the various threads of Miike's mythology come together. Just be prepared. Especially for those last 5 minutes or so. They're a doozy.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 7/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Minami, a novice Yakuza gets his first real assignment: eliminate Ozaki, a fellow Yakuza who's come unhinged and represents a liability to the crew. Travelling west to a Yakuza "dumping" facility in Nagoya, Minami wrestles with his task. Ozaki is clearly spiralling out of control, but he once saved Minami's life, and the young man has great respect for him. But if he returns to Tokyo with the job unfinished, his life will be forfeit. But before Minami can decide, the decision is made for him: Ozaki is killed in a car accident on the way to Nagoya. But when Ozaki's corpse mysteriously disappears, Minami frantically searches for the evidence that will keep his name off the Boss's hit list. In Nagoya, Minami enters into a world of violence, sex, and bizarre events he cannot begin to fathom. On the trail of an apparently not dead Ozaki, the novice runs afoul of a host of strange locals, including a lactating hotel manager and her child-like brother, a malicious cross-dressing restaraunteur, and a member of the Nagoya Yakuza, a man who believes (falsely) that he has a skin pigmentation disease. But it's when Minami runs across Gozu, a mythical cow-headed demon, that things get really weird. Minami eventually finds Ozaki, although in several forms he would never have expected, and the two head back to Tokyo with a plan to take down the Yakuza Boss.
So, yes, I was horrified through most of the movie, particularly the unforgettable final 5 minutes. But Gozu is less disturbing than Visitor Q and has the periodic comedic interludes that Audition lacks. And when you get down to it, when you strip away all of the absurdities and surrealism, the core story is very relatable. The conflict of professional duty versus personal affections is as old as time, and the heartwrenching decision to murder one's own brother feels very Greek mythology to me. Not to mention Judeo-Christian mythology. Against my better judgment, I found Gozu to be entertaining. You just have to have a strong stomach.
Beyond the strong central story, Gozu is also a well-made film. Miike makes great use of uncut long shots to establish an atmosphere of intimate confrontation between Ozaki and Minami. Kazunari Tanaka's props and effects are all superb, except for one electrocution scene that bordered on cartoonish. The music by Koji Endo and the sound effects from Hitoshi Tsurumaki complement each other seamlessly, blending to make a subtly unnerving backdrop which serves to heighten Minami's disorientation. Miike and screenwriter Sakichi Sato put together only the main elements of the narrative and did not write any dialogue. Actors received only their character's name and occupation prior to filming to keep the improv factor in play. Unlike many other loosely scripted ventures, Gozu shines. The story is almost completely dependent on Yuta Sone as Minami, and his genuine reactions to the oddities of Nagoya are key. The improv style captures Sone's genuine horror and befuddlement at just what the fucking fuck is going on in Nagoya. Without that strong lead, Gozu falls apart.
If you've never experienced a Miike film before, and you still want to after reading this, I suggest you try Ichi the Killer first, to ease you into Miike's style, then move onto Audition. Skip Visitor Q if you like; it's a little too gross. Then move on to Gozu to see the various threads of Miike's mythology come together. Just be prepared. Especially for those last 5 minutes or so. They're a doozy.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 7/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Onibaba
Japanese auteur Kaneto Shindo's tenth directorial effort, Onibaba (1964) is a high-concept art film fused with historical fiction and peppered with tense horror imagery. The film delivers on many aspects, including some beautiful cinematography, stunning visuals, costumes, set-pieces, and a terrific score from Hikaru Hayashi, who, amazingly, has scored all of Shindo's 44 films. The repetitive script and glacial pace, however, leave something to be desired, and the execution of Shindo's unique morality is quite heavy-handed for my taste.
Onibaba is set in 14th century rural Japan, in the midst of the Nanboku-cho period, where two imperial courts made seemingly endless upon each other. Large scale warfare meant many of Japan's young men joined an army in search wages, plunder, and fame. The fields and crops were left untended, or ravaged by hungry troops or fearsome battles. Those left behind, the infirm, the elderly, women and children, faced a meager existence, scraping out a living in any way they could. Our nameless protagonists, a middle-aged woman and her daughter-in-law, are two such individuals. Living in a small reed hut in a vast field of towering susuki grass by the banks of a small river, the two women eke out a living killing any soldiers unlucky enough to wander into their field. The soldiers' armor, clothes, and weapons are used as barter to purchase millet and other food stuffs.
One day, the pair's tenuous existence is disturbed by the return of their neighbor, Hachi. The young man returns from battle with sad news of the death of Kichi, the old woman's son and the young woman's husband. While the women deal with their grief, Hachi has his eye on his late friend's wife and on the women's business arrangement. The sexually-charged atmosphere only gets more complicated with the arrival of a mysterious samurai disguised behind a hideous demon mask.
Kiyomi Kuroda's camerawork is outstanding, if somewhat repetitive. Utilizing a deeply contrasted black and white palette, Kuroda is at his best in the shadows, while stark and harsh lighting make the scenes crackle with intensity. Yet Kuroda is equally at ease with the sweeping panoramic views, showcasing the susuki grass, giving it an epic and majestic life of its own. The rhythm of the swaying grasses carefully coincides with the intensity of the film's action, and particularly of the sexual tension between Hachi and the young woman.
The period costumes are meticulously rendered, and the costume centerpiece, the demon mask, is one of the most visually stunning pieces in the history of film. My skin crawled with revulsion every time I caught a glance of it. The mask is so memorable, in fact, that William Friedkin borrowed its design for subliminally inserted frames in The Exorcist (1973).
Composer Hikaru Hayashi's score is pure balls-to-the-wall adrenaline. It is an insane tour-de-force of furious percussion, highlighted here and there by primal screams, giving the susuki field the aspect of a haunted carnival. Or a demonic circle of hell.
Onibaba's downfall is the weak writing. To flesh out the story, Shindo resorts to repetition, recycling the same basic dialogue for several scenes. The repetition goes beyond dialogue: a scene involving the young woman running through the grass to Hachi's hut is used over and over again with only slight variation. For someone whose film is otherwise meticulously crafted, you have to wonder at such lazy filmmaking. Of course, in the light of Shindo's moral vision, this can be seen as reinforcement rather than corner-cutting. Even if this is true, it means Shindo is trying to get his point across with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the face. I, for one, am a little insulted by his tactics. They bring down an otherwise technically brilliant film.
Storyline & plot: 5/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 10/10
Performances: 6/10
The Reverend says: 6/10
Onibaba is set in 14th century rural Japan, in the midst of the Nanboku-cho period, where two imperial courts made seemingly endless upon each other. Large scale warfare meant many of Japan's young men joined an army in search wages, plunder, and fame. The fields and crops were left untended, or ravaged by hungry troops or fearsome battles. Those left behind, the infirm, the elderly, women and children, faced a meager existence, scraping out a living in any way they could. Our nameless protagonists, a middle-aged woman and her daughter-in-law, are two such individuals. Living in a small reed hut in a vast field of towering susuki grass by the banks of a small river, the two women eke out a living killing any soldiers unlucky enough to wander into their field. The soldiers' armor, clothes, and weapons are used as barter to purchase millet and other food stuffs.
One day, the pair's tenuous existence is disturbed by the return of their neighbor, Hachi. The young man returns from battle with sad news of the death of Kichi, the old woman's son and the young woman's husband. While the women deal with their grief, Hachi has his eye on his late friend's wife and on the women's business arrangement. The sexually-charged atmosphere only gets more complicated with the arrival of a mysterious samurai disguised behind a hideous demon mask.
Kiyomi Kuroda's camerawork is outstanding, if somewhat repetitive. Utilizing a deeply contrasted black and white palette, Kuroda is at his best in the shadows, while stark and harsh lighting make the scenes crackle with intensity. Yet Kuroda is equally at ease with the sweeping panoramic views, showcasing the susuki grass, giving it an epic and majestic life of its own. The rhythm of the swaying grasses carefully coincides with the intensity of the film's action, and particularly of the sexual tension between Hachi and the young woman.
The period costumes are meticulously rendered, and the costume centerpiece, the demon mask, is one of the most visually stunning pieces in the history of film. My skin crawled with revulsion every time I caught a glance of it. The mask is so memorable, in fact, that William Friedkin borrowed its design for subliminally inserted frames in The Exorcist (1973).
Composer Hikaru Hayashi's score is pure balls-to-the-wall adrenaline. It is an insane tour-de-force of furious percussion, highlighted here and there by primal screams, giving the susuki field the aspect of a haunted carnival. Or a demonic circle of hell.
Onibaba's downfall is the weak writing. To flesh out the story, Shindo resorts to repetition, recycling the same basic dialogue for several scenes. The repetition goes beyond dialogue: a scene involving the young woman running through the grass to Hachi's hut is used over and over again with only slight variation. For someone whose film is otherwise meticulously crafted, you have to wonder at such lazy filmmaking. Of course, in the light of Shindo's moral vision, this can be seen as reinforcement rather than corner-cutting. Even if this is true, it means Shindo is trying to get his point across with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the face. I, for one, am a little insulted by his tactics. They bring down an otherwise technically brilliant film.
Storyline & plot: 5/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 10/10
Performances: 6/10
The Reverend says: 6/10
The Midnight Meat Train
Based on a short story by Clive Barker, The Midnight Meat Train (2008) tells the story of Mahogany (Vinnie Jones) an NYC serial killer whose preferred hunting ground is late night subway trains. But that's just the beginning. It gets a good deal more complex than that, but unfortunately that's not always a good thing. The highly stylized potential this film shows at the start slowly spirals out of control, derailing into a half-hearted Lovecraftian mess.
Leon (Bradley Cooper) is a struggling freelance photographer, trying to make it big in NYC's indie art scene controlled by the brutally critical Susan Hoff, portrayed solidly here by Brooke Shields. To meet with Hoff's approval, he'll need to score some stunning photos of what he dubs "the real New York," the strange and corrupt underbelly of the city at night. Much to the chagrin of his girlfriend Maya (Leslie Bibb), Leon embarks on a series of night shoots, carefully tracking down his moments. But when he becomes obsessed with the disappearance of a model whose picture he snapped, his sanity begins to unravel. Stalking the man he believes responsible, the subway butcher, Leon enters into a world of death and ancient evil that he can barely comprehend.
Don't get me wrong. I love the premise. I really was hooked through the first 25 minutes or so of the film, and intermittently after that. But the script is so disappointingly uneven. The film would gain so much momentum, have me on the edge of my seat, only to bring me crashing down when the tension is utterly deflated by some drawn out, melodramatic relationship-establishing scene. Yawn. And the mythos behind our killer, Mahogany? It's such a scattered and ill-conceived mess. Poorly written and poorly executed. Why couldn't they have tried for a backstory that was a little more manageable? They tried to shoot the moon and they missed by a mile.
And speaking of poor writing, Clive Barker continues his decades-long trend of having no idea how to write convincing women characters. His critics have long denounced him as a misogynist for his literary treatment of women. I don't think I'd go that far, but he certainly has little understanding of the female psyche. He got it right once, with Candyman's (1992) protagonist Helen Lyle, but that may have been more to do with Virginia Madsen's excellent performance than anything else. At best, Barker's portrayal of women is illogical, at worst it is incredibly annoying. MMT's Maya is no exception to either of those extremes.
Oh yeah, and Bradley Cooper has been woefully miscast here. He just doesn't have what it takes to portray a complexly developing character like Leon. His transformation from a meek little photographer into a freelance criminal investigator and beyond is just not believable. In fact, it's actually kinda laughable.
As for the effects.... I can't be the only one who finds these over-the-top CGI graphics incredibly tacky and dumb. I just can't. Do the directors actually view these scenes and say, "Yeah, that looks not only realistic, but really great."? Because both those statements are patently untrue. I'm sorry, but the effects for this film (the computer effects, anyway) were just fucking silly. Ugh. On the positive side, the cinematography is outstanding. Great use of color. The subway is immediately represented as a dangerous place by a sickly gray-green-blue hue. In fact, the subway sequences are all great. Great set design, incredible tracking shots and long shots, and a richly rendered atmosphere of dread and claustrophobia.
The best aspect of the movie really is the character of Mahogany, and Vinnie Jones's great performance. The kills are inventive, the main weapon is unique among all the slasher films I've ever seen, and Jones is perfect for the role. Monstrous, menacing, yet virtually silent. The guy says literally three words the entire film, but his presence is enormous. Bravo, Vinnie. One of the best villains in recent memory. Unfortunately, it just wasn't enough to make this film anything more than mediocre.
Storyline & plot: 5/10
Cinematography & effects: 5/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 5/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
Leon (Bradley Cooper) is a struggling freelance photographer, trying to make it big in NYC's indie art scene controlled by the brutally critical Susan Hoff, portrayed solidly here by Brooke Shields. To meet with Hoff's approval, he'll need to score some stunning photos of what he dubs "the real New York," the strange and corrupt underbelly of the city at night. Much to the chagrin of his girlfriend Maya (Leslie Bibb), Leon embarks on a series of night shoots, carefully tracking down his moments. But when he becomes obsessed with the disappearance of a model whose picture he snapped, his sanity begins to unravel. Stalking the man he believes responsible, the subway butcher, Leon enters into a world of death and ancient evil that he can barely comprehend.
Don't get me wrong. I love the premise. I really was hooked through the first 25 minutes or so of the film, and intermittently after that. But the script is so disappointingly uneven. The film would gain so much momentum, have me on the edge of my seat, only to bring me crashing down when the tension is utterly deflated by some drawn out, melodramatic relationship-establishing scene. Yawn. And the mythos behind our killer, Mahogany? It's such a scattered and ill-conceived mess. Poorly written and poorly executed. Why couldn't they have tried for a backstory that was a little more manageable? They tried to shoot the moon and they missed by a mile.
And speaking of poor writing, Clive Barker continues his decades-long trend of having no idea how to write convincing women characters. His critics have long denounced him as a misogynist for his literary treatment of women. I don't think I'd go that far, but he certainly has little understanding of the female psyche. He got it right once, with Candyman's (1992) protagonist Helen Lyle, but that may have been more to do with Virginia Madsen's excellent performance than anything else. At best, Barker's portrayal of women is illogical, at worst it is incredibly annoying. MMT's Maya is no exception to either of those extremes.
Oh yeah, and Bradley Cooper has been woefully miscast here. He just doesn't have what it takes to portray a complexly developing character like Leon. His transformation from a meek little photographer into a freelance criminal investigator and beyond is just not believable. In fact, it's actually kinda laughable.
As for the effects.... I can't be the only one who finds these over-the-top CGI graphics incredibly tacky and dumb. I just can't. Do the directors actually view these scenes and say, "Yeah, that looks not only realistic, but really great."? Because both those statements are patently untrue. I'm sorry, but the effects for this film (the computer effects, anyway) were just fucking silly. Ugh. On the positive side, the cinematography is outstanding. Great use of color. The subway is immediately represented as a dangerous place by a sickly gray-green-blue hue. In fact, the subway sequences are all great. Great set design, incredible tracking shots and long shots, and a richly rendered atmosphere of dread and claustrophobia.
The best aspect of the movie really is the character of Mahogany, and Vinnie Jones's great performance. The kills are inventive, the main weapon is unique among all the slasher films I've ever seen, and Jones is perfect for the role. Monstrous, menacing, yet virtually silent. The guy says literally three words the entire film, but his presence is enormous. Bravo, Vinnie. One of the best villains in recent memory. Unfortunately, it just wasn't enough to make this film anything more than mediocre.
Storyline & plot: 5/10
Cinematography & effects: 5/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 5/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 6
Season 6 of Larry David's brainchild "Curb Your Enthusiasm" is easily the best yet. Featuring the most cogent and compelling story arcs so far, a decent midseason twist, and a parade of guest stars including John McEnroe, Tim Meadows, Tia Carerre, Phil Lamarr, and Steve Coogan, Season 6 delivers on the goods where the previous season fell flat. For really the first time in the series history, all the actors have gelled and become so comfortable with their own characters that the improvisational style doesn't feel like a hindrance. It's very nice. And very funny.
The single best change (and central storyline) for season 6 is the Davids' adoption of the Blacks, an African-American family displaced from their home by Hurricane Edna. Anytime you get Larry together with ethnic minorities, hilarity is bound to ensue, as he will find every possible way to offend without even meaning to. Vivica Fox as Loretta Black and JB Smoove as her brother Leon are the standouts here. Smoove is a fucking laugh a minute, jive-talking, ranting, giving Larry intriguing advice on anything from ladies to business, and joining Jeff Greene as Larry's right hand man. Larry himself has become more of a sympathetic figure, undergoing a subtle yet significant transformation from kind of a dick to just kind of a schmuck.
The strong writing that shines through in season 6 is not necessarily a surprise. This season marks a transition from David himself doing most of the writing and production, to David bringing on his old production crew from "Seinfeld" to help flush out the "comedy geometry" of "CYE", the art and science of fitting all the storylines together snugly and making sure each episode comes full circle. Bravo, guys, bravo.
There's not much else to say about this one. Great season, great writing, great cast, funny show.
Storyline & plot: 9/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 9/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
The single best change (and central storyline) for season 6 is the Davids' adoption of the Blacks, an African-American family displaced from their home by Hurricane Edna. Anytime you get Larry together with ethnic minorities, hilarity is bound to ensue, as he will find every possible way to offend without even meaning to. Vivica Fox as Loretta Black and JB Smoove as her brother Leon are the standouts here. Smoove is a fucking laugh a minute, jive-talking, ranting, giving Larry intriguing advice on anything from ladies to business, and joining Jeff Greene as Larry's right hand man. Larry himself has become more of a sympathetic figure, undergoing a subtle yet significant transformation from kind of a dick to just kind of a schmuck.
The strong writing that shines through in season 6 is not necessarily a surprise. This season marks a transition from David himself doing most of the writing and production, to David bringing on his old production crew from "Seinfeld" to help flush out the "comedy geometry" of "CYE", the art and science of fitting all the storylines together snugly and making sure each episode comes full circle. Bravo, guys, bravo.
There's not much else to say about this one. Great season, great writing, great cast, funny show.
Storyline & plot: 9/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 9/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Scooby-Doo and the Alien Invaders
You know what I missed with the last two Scooby-Doo installments? The mystery aspect of... well, the Mystery Inc Team. In SD on Zombie Island (1998) and SD and the Witch's Ghost (1999), the mystery was sort of pushed to the background in favor of good visuals and more of a straight-up horror story. Which was good, don't get me wrong. But I was starting to miss an actual mystery, where the gang finds clues and someone (usually Velma) puts them all together for some sort of crazy flashback-filled final reveal. The two previous films had twists, to be certain, but the Mystery Team wasn't so much in the business of solving mysteries as just kinda witnessing them. There was no string of clues to follow, just weird shit happening and the gang just trying to get the fuck out. With Scooby-Doo and the Alien Invaders (2000), writers Davis Doi and Glen Leopold have attempted to bring the mystery back to the Mystery Team.
The gang is embarked on some sort of road trip (hey, that's what ex-hippies do, man) when they get caught up in a freak sandstorm out in the middle of the desert at night. After taking a wrong turn and getting thoroughly lost, the gang spot something in the sky through the windows of the Mystery Machine. Is it a UFO? Just a jet? Something else? No one is entirely sure what they saw, but they are pretty sure that the van's radiator is shot, and they're going to have to hoof it into the next town. While Fred, Daphne, and Velma head into the town for an interesting night of tales of alien activity from the locals, Scoob and Shag stay back to guard the van. The cowardly duo decide to skip the alien stories and go straight for the experience, as a pair of hideous green aliens with huge segmented heads show up and chase them into town.
So, the gang decide to investigate, seeing as how they're stuck in this podunk town until the one mechanic decides to get around to fixing their van anyway. Fred, Daphne, and Velma decide to investigate the local federal installation, a SETI-like project called SALF (Search for Alien Life Forms). Meanwhile, Shag and Scoob get caught up in a whirlwind of events, including being abducted by the hideous aliens, and investigating the glow from a mysterious cave along with Crystal, a hippie-esque nature photographer, and her dog Amber. Unsurprisingly, both Shag and Scoob fall head-over-heels for their female counterparts, even forgoing food in their love-drunk state. But as events come together, Shaggy must come to grips with the fact that Crystal may not be who she says she is. Are the aliens real? And what do the SALF engineers have to do with everything? What about those two shady looking military policemen that seem to pop up everywhere?
The animation here is, if anything, even better than the two previous films. While the Japanese animation crew has maintained the modern-looking computer animation, they've managed to retrofit it, to give it a certain retro stylistic flair without sacrificing quality. More than any other SD film so far, this one looks and feels the closest to the original series, and to me that's a good thing.
Once again, Casey Kasem declined to reprise his role as Shaggy, but Scott Innes has only gotten better with some practice. His imitation of Kasem's Shaggy was so spot-on that I had to check IMDB before I was sure who the voice was. And speaking of vocal talents, I think we need to recognize Frank Welker here. He has been the voice of Fred from the very beginning, a span of over 30 years at the time of Alien Invaders' release. Throughout, Fred has been understated. Kinda the square to Shaggy's groovy dude. But honestly, Fred really shined in this film, delivering most of the movie's wry humor. Well, Fred got a little help from a really weird and really hilarious musical montage sung in an off-key warble by Shaggy. And on a sadder note, Alien Invaders is the last SD film to feature Mary Kay Bergman as the voice of Daphne. Bergman, who was also the original voice of almost every single female character on "South Park", took her own life in November of 1999.
Alien Invaders is a cool, fun, Saturday morning type of Scooby Doo flick. So make some pancakes and have a seat. Enjoy.
Storyline & plot: 6/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 6/10
The gang is embarked on some sort of road trip (hey, that's what ex-hippies do, man) when they get caught up in a freak sandstorm out in the middle of the desert at night. After taking a wrong turn and getting thoroughly lost, the gang spot something in the sky through the windows of the Mystery Machine. Is it a UFO? Just a jet? Something else? No one is entirely sure what they saw, but they are pretty sure that the van's radiator is shot, and they're going to have to hoof it into the next town. While Fred, Daphne, and Velma head into the town for an interesting night of tales of alien activity from the locals, Scoob and Shag stay back to guard the van. The cowardly duo decide to skip the alien stories and go straight for the experience, as a pair of hideous green aliens with huge segmented heads show up and chase them into town.
So, the gang decide to investigate, seeing as how they're stuck in this podunk town until the one mechanic decides to get around to fixing their van anyway. Fred, Daphne, and Velma decide to investigate the local federal installation, a SETI-like project called SALF (Search for Alien Life Forms). Meanwhile, Shag and Scoob get caught up in a whirlwind of events, including being abducted by the hideous aliens, and investigating the glow from a mysterious cave along with Crystal, a hippie-esque nature photographer, and her dog Amber. Unsurprisingly, both Shag and Scoob fall head-over-heels for their female counterparts, even forgoing food in their love-drunk state. But as events come together, Shaggy must come to grips with the fact that Crystal may not be who she says she is. Are the aliens real? And what do the SALF engineers have to do with everything? What about those two shady looking military policemen that seem to pop up everywhere?
The animation here is, if anything, even better than the two previous films. While the Japanese animation crew has maintained the modern-looking computer animation, they've managed to retrofit it, to give it a certain retro stylistic flair without sacrificing quality. More than any other SD film so far, this one looks and feels the closest to the original series, and to me that's a good thing.
Once again, Casey Kasem declined to reprise his role as Shaggy, but Scott Innes has only gotten better with some practice. His imitation of Kasem's Shaggy was so spot-on that I had to check IMDB before I was sure who the voice was. And speaking of vocal talents, I think we need to recognize Frank Welker here. He has been the voice of Fred from the very beginning, a span of over 30 years at the time of Alien Invaders' release. Throughout, Fred has been understated. Kinda the square to Shaggy's groovy dude. But honestly, Fred really shined in this film, delivering most of the movie's wry humor. Well, Fred got a little help from a really weird and really hilarious musical montage sung in an off-key warble by Shaggy. And on a sadder note, Alien Invaders is the last SD film to feature Mary Kay Bergman as the voice of Daphne. Bergman, who was also the original voice of almost every single female character on "South Park", took her own life in November of 1999.
Alien Invaders is a cool, fun, Saturday morning type of Scooby Doo flick. So make some pancakes and have a seat. Enjoy.
Storyline & plot: 6/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 6/10
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Following
Remember the very first time you saw The Usual Suspects (1995)? And if you haven't seen it, what is wrong with you? Go. Now. Anyway, like the very first time, before the film's central twist garnered its own cult universe and a legion of followers, imitators, and parodies? Remember the sheer "holy shit that was great" feeling that crept up on you as the Verbal Kint flashback montage scene played out, and it dawned on you that the filmmakers just threw perhaps the greatest curveball in cinematic history?
Following (1998) isn't quite that good. But it's damn close. For starters, it's low-budget and low-fi whereas The Usual Suspects was epic, lovingly and meticulously rendered. Hell, a masterpiece, if we're being honest. Following's plot is a good deal less complicated, less layered than Suspects, but the sucker punch plot twists retain a raw power that rivals anything out there. Basically, I haven't been this pleasantly surprised by a relatively unknown film in a while.
So, you know Christopher Nolan? Director of the two latest wildly popular and generally kick-ass Batman films? Most Americans (myself included) got their first taste of his brand of twisted intensity with Memento (2000), the chronologically reversed tale of a short-term amnesiac in search of justice for his wife's murder. But Following, Nolan's directorial debut, came two years prior, shot on a shoestring budget in London over the course of an entire year. The actors, all Nolan's friends and all otherwise employed, were available for shooting only on Saturdays.
Nolan's debut is shot in black and white, in what appears to be a trend for film auteurs (Darren Aronofsky's Pi and Kevin Smith's Clerks, for example). Part urban ethnography, part crime thriller, Following starts out slow, introducing us to our nameless protagonist, an unemployed wannabe writer. Through voiceover narration and flashback sequences, we come to learn of the writer's peculiar habit. Initially undertaken as nebulous anthropological research for his fledgling career, the writer takes to stalking people, or "following," as he calls it. What begins as innocuous and random soon turns sinister, as one of the writer's marks turns the tables on his following game. Discovering a mutual love for illicit means of ethnographical exploration, our writer and his mark, Cobb, embark on a whirlwind burglary tour of London. But when the writer falls for a woman (known only as The Blonde) whose house they've burgled (after stealing her panties, no less!), things get a little more complicated. The writer has no idea how much danger he's in as he is drawn deeper and deeper into both Cobb's and The Blonde's worlds.
As he has shown a penchant for in subsequent films, Nolan breaks the narrative of Following apart and puts it back together all out of order. The style is disorienting at first, as I'm sure it's supposed to be. In fact, initially, it's not clear if subsequent film segments are even dealing with the same central characters. By the time the audience recovers enough to figure out what the hell is going on, the film is already well into its second act. Surprisingly, Following clocks in at just over an hour, making for a great choice if you're strapped for time or just looking for a quick watch. Despite its duration, the film in no way feels incomplete, as Nolan manages to pack the substance into a little space with an economic use of cuts and dialogue.
Following really is a gem, and an insightful look into the early career of a superstar director. It's terse, tense, eloquent, and brings forth a sparse beauty all its own. Highly recommended.
Storyline & plot: 10/10
Cinematography & effects: 8/10
Music & mood: 7/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 9/10
Following (1998) isn't quite that good. But it's damn close. For starters, it's low-budget and low-fi whereas The Usual Suspects was epic, lovingly and meticulously rendered. Hell, a masterpiece, if we're being honest. Following's plot is a good deal less complicated, less layered than Suspects, but the sucker punch plot twists retain a raw power that rivals anything out there. Basically, I haven't been this pleasantly surprised by a relatively unknown film in a while.
So, you know Christopher Nolan? Director of the two latest wildly popular and generally kick-ass Batman films? Most Americans (myself included) got their first taste of his brand of twisted intensity with Memento (2000), the chronologically reversed tale of a short-term amnesiac in search of justice for his wife's murder. But Following, Nolan's directorial debut, came two years prior, shot on a shoestring budget in London over the course of an entire year. The actors, all Nolan's friends and all otherwise employed, were available for shooting only on Saturdays.
Nolan's debut is shot in black and white, in what appears to be a trend for film auteurs (Darren Aronofsky's Pi and Kevin Smith's Clerks, for example). Part urban ethnography, part crime thriller, Following starts out slow, introducing us to our nameless protagonist, an unemployed wannabe writer. Through voiceover narration and flashback sequences, we come to learn of the writer's peculiar habit. Initially undertaken as nebulous anthropological research for his fledgling career, the writer takes to stalking people, or "following," as he calls it. What begins as innocuous and random soon turns sinister, as one of the writer's marks turns the tables on his following game. Discovering a mutual love for illicit means of ethnographical exploration, our writer and his mark, Cobb, embark on a whirlwind burglary tour of London. But when the writer falls for a woman (known only as The Blonde) whose house they've burgled (after stealing her panties, no less!), things get a little more complicated. The writer has no idea how much danger he's in as he is drawn deeper and deeper into both Cobb's and The Blonde's worlds.
As he has shown a penchant for in subsequent films, Nolan breaks the narrative of Following apart and puts it back together all out of order. The style is disorienting at first, as I'm sure it's supposed to be. In fact, initially, it's not clear if subsequent film segments are even dealing with the same central characters. By the time the audience recovers enough to figure out what the hell is going on, the film is already well into its second act. Surprisingly, Following clocks in at just over an hour, making for a great choice if you're strapped for time or just looking for a quick watch. Despite its duration, the film in no way feels incomplete, as Nolan manages to pack the substance into a little space with an economic use of cuts and dialogue.
Following really is a gem, and an insightful look into the early career of a superstar director. It's terse, tense, eloquent, and brings forth a sparse beauty all its own. Highly recommended.
Storyline & plot: 10/10
Cinematography & effects: 8/10
Music & mood: 7/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 9/10
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Darjeeling Limited
It may be too early to say that Wes Anderson's career has peaked. But then again, maybe not. One can see a natural bell curve in the quality of his films. His debut, Bottle Rocket (1996), was a film half-formed. It introduced us to many of the themes that Anderson has explored in his career: existential angst, ennui, alienation, families destroyed by their own dysfunction. But it felt like half a film. There was no resolution, even for a notoriously open-ended filmmaker. With Bottle Rocket, Anderson had written a great setup but no ending. His next two films are easily his greatest: who couldn't find common ground with the outcast, lovelorn Max Fischer from Rushmore (1998) or the hilarious yet heart-wrenching family dysfunction of The Royal Tennenbaums (2001)? The films were not only relatable, but also technical masterpieces, showcasing Anderson's unique use of color, cinematography, and stage play presentation. While I personally think 2004's The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou was criminally underrated, it's understandable that fewer people might relate to the tale of a nautical naturalist.
With The Darjeeling Limited (2007), Anderson's trajectory is in clear decline. This film is a classic case of all show and no substance. All the familiar Andersonisms make an appearance: Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzmann, Anjelica Huston, copious use of extended slow motion pan shots, hyperreal, uproarious, often clashing color schemes, death as a major fulcrum of action, family dysfunction, non-linear timeline, metafiction, a physical and spiritual journey. Yep, the gang's all here. A little too here, if you ask me. It's all form and no function. This movie practically screams, "I'm a Wes Anderson film!", but the audience is never drawn in and invested in an emotional background. Everything is elliptical, half-hidden, pushed to the background. Plus, and this is super-annoying, Owen Wilson plays pretty much the same fucking character he plays in every Anderson film. He shouldn't even need a script by now. Just change the names and roll tape. In fact, his character has either died or almost died in a horrific accident in the last three Anderson films!!
Oh yeah.... a summary, I almost forgot. A year after their father's violent death, three brothers (Schwartzmann, Wilson, Adrien Brody) embark on a spiritual journey across India. While superficially a journey to bring closure to their grief and reconnect as a family, the eldest brother (Wilson) has a secret agenda involving tracking down their mother, who's made a career out of disappearing from their lives. It's clear from the start, however, that the brothers are not ready to deal with their grief, and that a lifetime of mistrust has shattered them into bitter, feuding children.
Technically, this movie is well executed, although the Andersonisms start to wear thin in places (particularly that pesky slow motion). The music selection, as always, is superb, and carefully orchestrated to have maximum emotional effect. Anderson's use of tracking shots and circular pans, combined with his peculiar bourgeoisie style and use of color make it seem like watching a 1940s stageplay on acid.
Even at its most emotionally raw, in two separate funeral scenes, I was barely moved. I think this may have had to do with the acting as well. Neither Schwartzmann's nor Wilson's acting range allow them to truly manipulate an emotional setting, leaving Adrien Brody out there trying to carry the entire scene. The whole film just didn't work for me, and I'd much rather watch The Royal Tennenbaums for a tenth time than The Darjeeling Limited for a second.
Storyline & plot: 4/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 5/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
With The Darjeeling Limited (2007), Anderson's trajectory is in clear decline. This film is a classic case of all show and no substance. All the familiar Andersonisms make an appearance: Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzmann, Anjelica Huston, copious use of extended slow motion pan shots, hyperreal, uproarious, often clashing color schemes, death as a major fulcrum of action, family dysfunction, non-linear timeline, metafiction, a physical and spiritual journey. Yep, the gang's all here. A little too here, if you ask me. It's all form and no function. This movie practically screams, "I'm a Wes Anderson film!", but the audience is never drawn in and invested in an emotional background. Everything is elliptical, half-hidden, pushed to the background. Plus, and this is super-annoying, Owen Wilson plays pretty much the same fucking character he plays in every Anderson film. He shouldn't even need a script by now. Just change the names and roll tape. In fact, his character has either died or almost died in a horrific accident in the last three Anderson films!!
Oh yeah.... a summary, I almost forgot. A year after their father's violent death, three brothers (Schwartzmann, Wilson, Adrien Brody) embark on a spiritual journey across India. While superficially a journey to bring closure to their grief and reconnect as a family, the eldest brother (Wilson) has a secret agenda involving tracking down their mother, who's made a career out of disappearing from their lives. It's clear from the start, however, that the brothers are not ready to deal with their grief, and that a lifetime of mistrust has shattered them into bitter, feuding children.
Technically, this movie is well executed, although the Andersonisms start to wear thin in places (particularly that pesky slow motion). The music selection, as always, is superb, and carefully orchestrated to have maximum emotional effect. Anderson's use of tracking shots and circular pans, combined with his peculiar bourgeoisie style and use of color make it seem like watching a 1940s stageplay on acid.
Even at its most emotionally raw, in two separate funeral scenes, I was barely moved. I think this may have had to do with the acting as well. Neither Schwartzmann's nor Wilson's acting range allow them to truly manipulate an emotional setting, leaving Adrien Brody out there trying to carry the entire scene. The whole film just didn't work for me, and I'd much rather watch The Royal Tennenbaums for a tenth time than The Darjeeling Limited for a second.
Storyline & plot: 4/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 5/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
Scooby-Doo and the Witch's Ghost
Oh no! Scooby-Doo is back in the hands of an American production company after the funny, scary, awesome, Japanese-produced Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island (1998). Apparently Hanna-Barbera was a little uneasy at the thought of Scooby-Doo remaining in foreign hands for too long, so they quickly yanked it back to American soil. To their credit, the Americans in charge of Scooby-Doo and the Witch's Ghost (1999) have apparently learned a little something. The animation is once again crisp, colorful, and appropriately dark. While Witch's Ghost is no watershed film like Zombie Island, it is a more than decent entry.
The factual, historical, and ideological errors in Witch's Ghost are numerous. Of course, Americans made it, and we are quite adept at manipulating the facts to suit our needs. This film opens as the gang wraps up a museum ghost caper, exposing the corrupt archaeologists at its core. They are serendipitously assisted by Ben Ravencroft (Tim Curry), world-famous author of horror, supernatural, and other occult fiction. A huge fan of the Mystery Team, Ravencroft invites them back to his ancestral home in a quaint Massachusetts village. Capitalizing on real life, the filmmakers have pieced together Ravencroft as a sort of Stephen King/Wes Craven hybrid.
It's with Ravencroft and his hometown that the movie's inaccuracies start. If Ravencroft is from Massachusetts, why is it that he has a British accent? The hastily thrown-in "I live mostly in Europe now" reeks of someone in the casting department covering their ass. Not that Tim Curry is necessarily a bad choice. Although uncharacteristically understated through most of the film, Curry shines in the last 15 minutes or so, utilizing his incredible vocal talents to really bring Ravencroft to life and expose him for what he truly is.
The director may have gotten a little carried away with the Stephen King comparison, because the people of Ravencroft's Massachusetts home sound quite out of place, considering their accent is much more insular Maine than Mass. At any rate, Ravencroft and the gang arrive to find the town alive in a frenzy of tourist activity. Turns out, the town has been busy constructing a working Puritan village as a historical tourist attraction. The main draw? The ghost of Sarah Ravencroft, Ben's ancestor, executed as a witch in the 1600s. Ben is outraged by the town's insensitive exploitation of his ancestor. He enlists Scooby and the gang to discover Sarah's final resting place and retrieve the journal that was buried with her. The journal, Ben insists, will clear Sarah's name and show the world that she was in reality a gentle Wiccan healer. Never mind that Wiccans didn't really exist as such in the 1600s. Hey, at least they're trying to present some cultural relativism, even if it's historically inaccurate.
As the gang slowly peel away the secrets of the town, it becomes clear that the Ravencrofts, as well as the entire town, are not what they appear. Now Scoob, Shag, Freddy, Daphne, and Velma will have to hold back an ancient evil with the aid of a group of "eco goth" rocker chicks, one of whom carries Wiccan blood. Never mind that Wicca is a religion and not really a bloodline.
Despite the mountain of errors, Witch's Ghost delivers on the laughs and scares for the Scooby-Doo age group. A layered plot with a good twist add to the film's depth, and a fairly well-executed score gives the film life. Once again, Casey Kasem is absent as the iconic voice of Shaggy, but Scott Innes, a consummate mimic, delivers in his stead.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 5/10
Performances: 6/10
The Reverend says: 6/10
The factual, historical, and ideological errors in Witch's Ghost are numerous. Of course, Americans made it, and we are quite adept at manipulating the facts to suit our needs. This film opens as the gang wraps up a museum ghost caper, exposing the corrupt archaeologists at its core. They are serendipitously assisted by Ben Ravencroft (Tim Curry), world-famous author of horror, supernatural, and other occult fiction. A huge fan of the Mystery Team, Ravencroft invites them back to his ancestral home in a quaint Massachusetts village. Capitalizing on real life, the filmmakers have pieced together Ravencroft as a sort of Stephen King/Wes Craven hybrid.
It's with Ravencroft and his hometown that the movie's inaccuracies start. If Ravencroft is from Massachusetts, why is it that he has a British accent? The hastily thrown-in "I live mostly in Europe now" reeks of someone in the casting department covering their ass. Not that Tim Curry is necessarily a bad choice. Although uncharacteristically understated through most of the film, Curry shines in the last 15 minutes or so, utilizing his incredible vocal talents to really bring Ravencroft to life and expose him for what he truly is.
The director may have gotten a little carried away with the Stephen King comparison, because the people of Ravencroft's Massachusetts home sound quite out of place, considering their accent is much more insular Maine than Mass. At any rate, Ravencroft and the gang arrive to find the town alive in a frenzy of tourist activity. Turns out, the town has been busy constructing a working Puritan village as a historical tourist attraction. The main draw? The ghost of Sarah Ravencroft, Ben's ancestor, executed as a witch in the 1600s. Ben is outraged by the town's insensitive exploitation of his ancestor. He enlists Scooby and the gang to discover Sarah's final resting place and retrieve the journal that was buried with her. The journal, Ben insists, will clear Sarah's name and show the world that she was in reality a gentle Wiccan healer. Never mind that Wiccans didn't really exist as such in the 1600s. Hey, at least they're trying to present some cultural relativism, even if it's historically inaccurate.
As the gang slowly peel away the secrets of the town, it becomes clear that the Ravencrofts, as well as the entire town, are not what they appear. Now Scoob, Shag, Freddy, Daphne, and Velma will have to hold back an ancient evil with the aid of a group of "eco goth" rocker chicks, one of whom carries Wiccan blood. Never mind that Wicca is a religion and not really a bloodline.
Despite the mountain of errors, Witch's Ghost delivers on the laughs and scares for the Scooby-Doo age group. A layered plot with a good twist add to the film's depth, and a fairly well-executed score gives the film life. Once again, Casey Kasem is absent as the iconic voice of Shaggy, but Scott Innes, a consummate mimic, delivers in his stead.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 5/10
Performances: 6/10
The Reverend says: 6/10
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
