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The Black Dahlia (2006)
A let-down
As a fan of DePalma and the brilliant James Ellroy novel (as well as being a Dahlia buff myself), I have to say that I was really disappointed by this on-screen adaptation, which is a shame because I had been anticipating its release for so long.
Not only is the Bucky Bleichart character devoid of any of the "hard boiled" characteristics that made him great in print, but the entire noir persona is sucked dry and strangely missing here, replaced instead by a Hollywood-molded white-knight everyman who is on a quest to "do good" - hardly the figure that Ellroy wrote of the corrupt cop who comes out of the story broken, privy to the darker side of human nature but willing to play its game.
In fact, the story itself is practically ruined in this film - vital parts of the book were left out, smashed together to allow shaky continuity, characters missing, characters added, holes never accounted for - it's just a mess. Stylistically, it looks good - being reminiscent of another Ellroy adaptation, 1997's fantastic "L.A. Confidential" directed by Curtis Hanson. But where Hanson's film accommodates Ellory's multitude of plot subtleties nicely, DePlama fails miserably. What a shame that it had to ruin this classic noir book, and the infamous and intriguing Hollywood Dahlia legend.
X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)
bad, bad, bad
I was greatly disappointed by this film. Loved the first two - but the liberties they took with the third one were a little ridiculous. I mean, I knew it was gonna be a bad idea for them to try to tackle the Dark Pheonix saga, and boy was I right. But that's not even my biggest complaint ... the whole movie seems like it was put together last minute insofar as the writing was concerned. They tried to pack too much story into a 2-hour movie and the result was a shoddy, easy-wrap up, soulless strip of loose ends that didn't allow enough time for characters to breath. The saddest thing was that its abundance of pointless, multiple story lines cut into the much-anticipated action time. The result was negation on all fronts: it killed both the story and the action, rendering the entire movie anti-climatic and completely pointless. I mean, if you're going to flounder in story, at least give us the nerd porn action sequences we want as an easy fallback, right? But no... I mean, why didn't Wolverine at least get to go back for seconds with Juggernaut? Was it really so hard not to deny us that one? And barely any Colosus, instead they wasted waaaaay to much time on useless characters like Iceman and Angel, which simply amounted to a waste of celluloid. I'll put it this way, it's a sad day when the Beast becomes one of the shining moments of an x-men movie.
The Wicker Man (1973)
The Best Terrible Movie of all time?
***SPOILERS AHEAD!!!***
It's hard for me to say what I truly think of The Wicker Man. I've had the habit of deriding this film many times with friends on late-night movie binges. Sure, it's an easy enough film to laugh at; from the hilariously out-of-place folk music at the begging of the film, to the wanton Tits-and-Ass segments which sprinkle the mise en scene in a pathetically-transparent-yet-trademarkingly-70's attempt to keep our attention focused to the story, to the absurd nude dancing sequence in which a trope blonde shimmies against a bedroom wall, this movie has all the right ingredients for a cinematic train wreck. However, unlike countless other films which deserve their place in the annals of B-moviedom for whatever "ironic", "cheesy", or perhaps politically dated elements that can be found under the lens of couch-potato analysis, there exists some primal element about The Wicker Man which fascinates me, and subsequently begs me to come back for viewing after viewing. I remain baffled each and every time I finish watching this film, unable to put my finger on exactly what it is about this movie that makes it so compelling. Finally, I think that I have a vague idea as to why. First, there is the notion that this film evades any form of categorical summation. The Wicker Man is not a horror film - or if it is, it certainly isn't done in the traditional vain of the genre. The film's climax is certainly horror-like, it is the unveiling of an underling 'horror' that has been hidden all along. The film's ending aside, not a single person dies throughout the unfolding of the plot. The Wicker Man is also not a comedy, although the purposefully silly dialogue at times ("NO, I DOES NOT REFRESH ME!!") coupled with a hilarious classroom discussion of the use of phallic symbols in western culture is both smart and well-crafted satire. The Wicker Man is not a romance, although Sergeant Howie's subliminal want to disregard his religious faith and submit to his desires for Miss Rose becomes a pivotal element to the plot. The Wicker Man is not a musical, while the first bar room scene ("The innkeeper's daughter?!"), the aforementioned bedroom fantasy scene, and the May Day scenes would hint otherwise. In essence, The Wicker Man has all these things, but its totality is not an exemplification of any single part. It is the confluence and the concatenation of many individual themes and elements, making it a movie in a league of its own. The Wicker Man is a story of what it means to lose one's identity. It is an extremely postmodern film in that: 1) as stated earlier, it evades a cinematic category, but is more a grouping of all those things, and 2) The film itself is a comment on how we as people are the collection of ideas and information that creates our cultures. The Wicker Man is the story of a man who is forced to question, and essentially abandon, both faith in culture and faith in a Christian God. Many would argue (yes, especially the post moderns) that they are one in the same. Sergeant Howie arrives at the island looking for Rowan Morrison, a missing girl who he believes to have been murdered. Throughout his search, he is fooled, lied to, and manipulated by the townsfolk in an attempt to dissuade him from furthering the investigation. Howie is disgusted by the island's Pagan leanings, and uses his Christian faith as a means of looking down upon them and reassuring himself of his superiority, all while using his status as a policeman to intimidate them into submission. Howie believes that Morrison is dead at this point, yet he remains tenacious as his search progresses, looking for a body and a motive behind her murder. At this point, we notice that Howie begins to eulogize the missing girl. He makes a wooden cross out of sticks when looking for her body in the graveyard, he scolds the girl's mother and teacher for their lack of Christian teachings, and her carries her photograph in his breast pocket at all times. In essence, Rowan Morrison becomes an extension of the Virgin Mary. She has been transformed into the Christian model of femininity: Purity, chastity, and innocence. Rowan Morrison is now a legend, a myth, and a metaphor in Howe's mind. He seeks to find her because it is his duty to defend the myth and the root of his beliefs. In the end, Howie discovers that Morrison was alive the entire time. He attempts to rescue her, his Christian faith telling him that it is his duty to protect the chaste and pure. However, she deceives him and eventually leads him to a mob that seeks to sacrifice him for the crops of the island. He learns that Morrison was a rouse the entire time, and thus his idea of the chaste female, and all the Christian connotations that comes with it, was a product of his imagination. The legend he created and propagated was the result of an inherently corrupt belief system, and in the final moments of his life he sees that he lived a life searching for a truth that never existed. As Howie is captured by the villagers, he begins to pray, asking God to save him from the inevitable fate of being burned alive as sacrifice. As he is placed inside the Wicker Man, and as the flames begin to sear his flesh, he yells the words "Oh God!" It is at this moment that he stumbles upon his most feared revelation: In his darkest hour, after years of subservience and chastity, Howie knows that God would not hear his screams. This is the existential ends, the very Nausea that Jean Paul Sartre spoke of; to stumble upon the tragic realization that one lives in a world without God. In the final seconds of the film, the camera lifts up from the burning visage of The Wicker Man and we see a setting sun. Nature's own ubiquity prevails over the spiritual. The absolutes of a physical world will always triumph over the epochs of our fallible beliefs and the cultures they create.
A terrible movie? No way. 8/10
Persona (1966)
Absolutely Incredible
It might sounds cliche, but Persona is simply as good as it gets. The film starts with some of the most powerful images ever put onto celluloid. A projector starts to roll, a dead sheep's eye is dissected, a man crucifies himself, and a child looks directly at the lens of the camera, which we find out via a complete 180 degree cut that follows, is the image of a woman, a woman who we later learn is a famous celebrity. While certainly the sequence is an intense barrage of haphazard events, it has a meaning which continuously seems to evade many viewers. First, the fact that the camera is directly addressed in the opening sequence is meant to break down the barrier and subsequent relationship between the viewer and the film, or the idea of seeing and being seen. Bergman creates a dialectic between the camera and the eye, and we the viewer, are directly addressed as one of the many subjects of the film. This isn't an entirely new theme...in fact, many people have stated that Avant-garde films' initial purpose was to dissect and even destroy the traditional relationship between the viewer and what is viewed. Eyes are commonly used as a metaphor for this process...Bunuel's famous `razor and the eye' sequence in Un Chien Andalou is probably the most famous use of this metaphor, not to mention the films of Kennith Anger, among others. By understanding the continual appearance of this theme, we begin to understand that surrealist film makes strong suggestions on altering and revolutionizing both the classic model of the camera as `the objective eye' and our own participation as a viewer of film. So, why does this happen in Persona? One might make a good argument by stating that this opening sequence is little more than homage to Bunuel's masterpiece (the `stigmata' scene in Un Chien Andalou also looks remarkably similar to the `self crucifixion' in persona, not to mention the sheep's eye). However, by positing the image of a celebrity over the space where the camera is intended to occupy, Bergman goes beyond the Avant-garde and enters the realm of the psychological. Specifically, the 180 degree cut is placed to acknowledge the multi-layered complexity of the human persona...what we see in ourselves and the way that we display ourselves to others. Bergman knows people very well, and understands that we tend to characterize people by their actions and not necessarily their thoughts...and likewise, that all of us have thoughts and feelings that we would never portray to others. He executes this theme throughout the film by wisely choosing to use the model of a celebrity as our main character (Liv Ullmann), and hence the idea of a `film persona'. Indeed, what better way to create discourse of the human persona than by introducing a character that we see, in light of her fame and beauty, to be the ideal in an age of star-worship and tabloids. Bergman plays on our stereotypes and preconceived notions of celebrity personalities with this idea and opposes it with the introduction of a much more down-to-earth character, namely, her nurse (excellently portrayed by Bibi Andersson). We might think that Andersson gives too much of herself away...she reveals levels of her own persona with a rubbish nonchalance that Ullmann's character would never dream of displaying for fear of vulnerability. This fear is confirmed with her decision to become mute and remain silent to the world. Of course, one might say that Ullmann becomes jealous of Andersson's ability to speak freely, and we begin to see Ullmann's attempts to usurp and subsume Andersson's life and character. The two character's personalities are thus switched - Andersonn becomes the coveted object of beauty, and Ullman becomes the psychic vampire who attempts to subvert Andersson in her quest for happiness, meaning, and the ability to speak without fear of persecution. The dialectic that follows throughout the film is one that deals with the grey area between one's inner persona and the way they display it to the outside world. This film is not only beautiful to watch, but it asks you, the viewer, to take a step back and to question yourself.
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)
Absolutely Incredible
This is a fantastic movie, incredibly filmed without a detail spared. The action sequences are among the best I have ever seen. While it's easy to say that the development of the familiar characters does not hold up well as a film would be by itself, if you take this film within the context of a second installment of a larger series it is a flaw that can be easily omitted. The parallel editing sequence that occurs between the major battle scene and that of the hobits talking to the tree people is also oddly paced, making you wonder why Peter Jackson chooses to cut up a fast-paced action sequence with a slow, drab monologue. However, the pace of juxtaposed sequences definitely heightens the feeling of general anxiety that grips you by the throat as the film approaches its climax. The dialogue can also be trying at times...the Sam/Froddo dialogue about being "brave and strong" towards the end of the film is trite and cheesy. However, there are also times in the film where we find wonderful prose emitting from the same characters, allowing me to forgive their occasional verbal blunders. At the end of the day, I can forgive the film's tiny flaws for the greatness that shadows over it. This film will take home some major awards next year. I have to say...seeing this film on opening night, I felt like a kid again. This is the Star Wars for a new generation. Let's just hope that Peter Jackson will keep this story sacred, and will never have the temerity to pull a "Lucas" and to rehash these great films into Hollywood train wrecks 20 years later. Highly recommended.
No Skin Off My Ass (1991)
Absolutely Horrible
Bruce LaBruce's attempts at artistic flair instead look more like pompous, wanna-be shock conjecture that goes nowhere. The saddest thing is that this film could have actually been quite good, if done properly. The grainy stock of the film (8mm blown up to 16mm) is quite appropriate at times, unfortunately LaBruce's inept ability to edit a film (yes, he actually edited this too) leaves much to be desired as what appears at first glance to be French new-wave inspired film making actually is a mere coincidence of defaults (just because it's low budget doesn't make it good). The over-dubbing of the dialogue is unbearable, as is the photographer's inability to work a camera. Moreover, while the idea of defamiliarizing a nazi skinhead into an object of queer attraction is funny and perhaps a good jab at the overtly masculine subculture, it goes into dangerous grounds because it attempts to fetishize (and subsequently, aestheticize) fascism, subversion, and male dominance in it's most homophobic sense. However, this may be too extreme of an analysis, as the film's inability to perform even the most intermediate of tasks renders it property basic and devoid of any possible artistic interpretation. Stay away from this at all costs. It's that bad.
Das blaue Licht - Eine Berglegende aus den Dolomiten (1932)
scathing dissertation of modern life and its disregard for nature
WARNING.....SLIGHT SPOILER!!!!
Leni Riefenstahl is fantastic in this film, which she directed, wrote, and starred in. This movie is generally considered to be a German 'mountain film', to which Refenstahl generally takes a great deal of influence from, though it came out significantly later than most of the films from that genre, such as `The White Hell of Piz Palu' (Die Weiße Hölle vom Piz Palü) or `Storm Over Mont Blanc' (Stürme über dem Mont Blanc) both of which Riefenstahl herself starred in.
This is a movie about nature and modern man's disrespect for it. Vigo, an urban citizen who comes to a village in the mountains, meets Junta (Riefenstahl), an outcast believed by most of the villagers to be a witch. Vigo discovers that Junta is the only person known to have climbed the mountain to the cave where a 'blue light' shines on every full moon. The light, which is believed by the villagers to hypnotize young men, is blamed for the countless deaths of the villagers who attempt to climb the mountain only to fall to their deaths. When Vigo discovers Junta and followers her to the cave, he realizes that the 'light' comes from millions of valuable jewels that lie in the walls of the mountain. Although by this point Vigo has formed a romantic relationship with Junta, instead of keeping the jewels a secret and thus, sacred (as Junta does) he decides to tell the villagers, who rape the mountain of its riches and become wealthy. The outcast Junta gets nothing, and is devastated because the light which once glimmered from the mountain is now gone.
Vito is constantly portrayed as a `Goethe type' - the 19th century archetype intellectual, and we know that he is used to symbolize the higher echelon of German society. Junta, however, is an outcast and a social misfit. She is filmed much like an animal of sorts...wearing rags, hunched over, and constantly running from villagers who want to stone her to death. When Junta and Vito get together, it becomes obviously unnatural and awkward. The fact that Junta and Vito also do not speak the same language is paramount to the notion that communication between nature and high society does not exist. In the end, he uses her knowledge, and chooses financial wealth over love. This is a message (albeit a depressing one) to modern civilization everywhere, delivered with expressionistic flair and a filmatic brilliance that won't be found anywhere else.
Gycklarnas afton (1953)
Dark and Mesmerizing
This is a fantastic early film made by the master of the psychological, Ingmar Bergman. This film is much easier to understand than say, Persona, Cries and Whispers, or the Seventh Seal, and therefore, I suggest this as a first-time introduction for anyone interested in learning more about his films and/or his filming technique.
This movie is quite simply, a dream. The introduction sequence is a brilliant example of Bergman's work...we see a long shot of 5 horse carriages moving across the plains at dawn, which dissolves into a reflection of a single horse & carriage in the water below a bridge, which dissolves into a series of shots...windmills, foggy paths, the carriage driver and the finally, a fade into the carriage where our protagonist, Albert Johansson, sleeps with his girlfriend Anna. Bergman is the king of the dissolve...a style he no doubt picked up from 1920's German expressionism. Bergman's mise en scene is a blend of sequences which depict a very dreamlike orientation of our immediate surrounding.The result: We are passive observers, watching the all-too-real reality of our modern world subside into something very mysterious and surreal. Bergman's style removes time from the equation of film. Time, as we know it, takes a back-seat to objects, people, and places. Real life becomes more dreamlike than any dream, and the darkest and most mysterious corner of the universe becomes the human mind.
This is a fantastic movie.