ildimo1877 Reviews

21 Grams (2003)

Mr. Inarritu's, so far, finest

[8/10 · 18 October 2010]

The far superior entry in the Inarritu trilogy of irrevocable despair (could be quadrilogy, etc…though…) includes powerhouse performances (an unusually restrained Penn, a usually magnificent Mr. Del Toro and a pitch perfect borderline cataclysmic Ms. Watts) and a theme that won't leave you be. You see life "doesn't go on" when certain traumas never heal. This absolutely rare idea goes against the stream of our good old practical times and positively (strange adverb to use in an Inarritu film review, I know) exceeds the "God laughing" idea of Amores Perros. This is a film about men of strange, sometimes otherworldly tendencies, to overreach, to sublimate, to love, to find faith, in short to discover the particular texture that differentiates men as species. Mr. Inarritu's direction is never short of impressive – despite his frequent lapses into emotional sadism (his have got to be the gentlest versions of emotional porn we 've ever encountered in the movies) – and his choice to break down the chronological order represents a fine example of beneficial modernism.

Amores Perros (2000)

Inspiringly unpleasant!

[4/10 · 18 October 2010]

A dense, overtly sophisticated, but never really wise, script by Mr. Arriaga gets the famed "Inarritu treatment" – otherwise known as "fanciful free fall in the arms of obsessive despair and educated repulsion". The "problem" with Amores Perros (also with 21 Grams and Babel) is you just can't ignore it. Or, to put it better, you'd feel some kind of terminal guilt (appropriately…) if you did. The three intertwining stories revolve ambitiously and high-poweredly around the theme of fatalism, on "love's a bitch" (more or less the title), on "brother against brother" religious motifs, on Kieslowski, Poe, a bit of Mexican-period Bunuel, and on a to-the-point requiem on Viva La Revolucion. In short however, this is a salute to the idea of "God laughing when people make plans". (To be honest, God laughs when people make movies about God). In any case, the only one laughing in Inarritu's humorless universe could be God, though I don't really see why He'd be so pleased in seeing his creatures miserable as hell (…). Obviously this is a vengeful divine presence overlooking the production of Amores Perros, a production stately (while recalling Mr. Babenko's 1981 Pixote) and, occasionally, inspiringly unpleasant. Undoubtedly a masterpiece for those who get their ideological kicks in non-American speaking filmmaking, an intriguing torture for the rest.

Basic Instinct (1992)

Shock driven but still effective!

[7/10 · 18 October 2010]

Had Paul Verhoeven been more meticulous with his choice of screenwriters – and generally less shock driven in his Hollywood years – Basic Instinct would have been one of the finest noir films ever made. Still it remains more than decent in its excellent whodunit fashion, its splendidly cast Douglas and, of course, its fortune in having this talented bombshell as its femme fatale. (Truth be said Stone is a bit overtly narcissistic, but all is forgotten when legs are crossed.) Furthermore, 18 years after its first screening, Instinct stands as a fine indicator of how the graphic elements are gradually dated (the sex is still bolder than most you've seen ever since, but back then the hype was relentless) benefiting more essential stuff. Honorary mentions to DP Jan de Bont and, especially, set decorator Anne Kuljian.

Carnival of Souls (1962)

Classy, trashy carnival

[8/10 · 18 October 2010]

47 years on, this one off experiment in embarrassingly low budget and high horror class, remains a truly unique motion picture. Herk Harvey, the director of more than four hundred features (be it documentary, fiction, or TV work), never came close to his ghost story of phenomenally twisted ending, one wisely served by 85 bad sounding, trashy looking and, indeed, brilliant preceding minutes. And yet, despite the amateur looks of it, Carnival remains a testament to the true powers of cinema mechanisms. All works for, not against it. Creepy makeup, uninvited apparitions, haunted organ-only soundtrack, clueless acting, all, lead up to a carnival of souls resurrecting and dancing sadly around an unsuspected one. Romero and Shyamalan (to name two) couldn't be without it.

25th Hour (2002)

Pleasurable joint

[7/10 · 8 September 2010]

Compulsive viewing doesn't necessarily regard a "faultless picture", yet, excluding Fight Club, this is the only really emblematic film great Mr. Norton has starred in. As heavy handed (and pleasurably smoked) Spike Lee joint as it may be, 25th Hour is an overestimated, melodramatic and, quite noisy sometimes, elegy of a bygone era of God, Man and Country. Still, the rhapsodic direction (though annoyingly intermitted by occasional fanciful editing) permeates heavily voiced over allegory resting upon its people' s idiosyncrasies, hidden fears and untold pain. Then and there, 25th Hour becomes a significant bit more than the post 9/11 docudrama it specifies; it becomes a desolate filmic comment on adieu.

Alice in Wonderland (1951)

A Disney standout

[9/10 · 8 September 2010]

Incredible piece of filmmaking and certainly the most adult oriented cartoon of the early Disney days, Alice in Wonderland walks gracefully among the paradoxes and surrealism of Carroll's story of a bored of normality little girl who decides to tread a world of things turned to their meaning. Terry Gilliam would have absolutely killed to have done this but, truth be said, Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson and Hamilton Luske have done the inimitable task of combining old Disney magic (which is simply unreproducible even by nowadays Pixar) with a totally unexpected delirium of cinematic madness, plot deconstruction, thematic ambivalence and visual inventiveness. Even if you don't care for that kind of movie-making, Alice stands as an apocalypse of standout narrative.

Avatar (2009)

A moment of evolution

[8/10 · 8 September 2010]

12 years back, Jim Cameron recapitulated a certain form of cinema - the narrative, entertaining, blockbusting one -and crowned himself with 11 Academy awards just to let us know who the king was. 12 years on certain Matrixes and Rings of Power questioned this authority.

By the end of this decade, 12 uninterrupted years without a fiction film outing by the director later – he royally strikes again, if only to reclaim what's rightfully his. This time re-inventing popular culture as this is defined by cinema, re-imagining film, re-inventing theater-going experience and, alas, presenting us with a cinematic phenomenon similar to which are only, Melies' Voyage dans La Lune (1902), King Kong (1933), Gone with the Wind (1939) and, maybe, Truffaut's Le 400 coups (1959) and Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). To put it simply, Avatar, is a cultural episode of our time, a monumentally significant movie so indebted in its era as it is charioting ahead of it. To watch Avatar, is to participate in something grander, something the ages to come – if that holds any significance – will treasure and remember: The moment cinema evolved.

As plausibly one will guess, commenting on plot (the usual Cameronian plot of true love under impossible circumstances) or theme (typical Cameron dialectics of technology Vs Ecology and militarism Vs humanism) can be regarded as out of focus – and disturbing- movie reviewer's pedanticism.

Blade Runner (1982)

A stunning work of sci-fi beauty

[9/10 · 8 September 2010]

Despite being one of the most highly problematic masterpieces of the American cinema, Blade Runner boasts an influence few films have exerted. It may be self-(over) indulgent – but who can blame you when you 're so damn gorgeous looking? – it may be so absorbed with its majestic outer environment that it sometimes forgets the inner substance of its people but, incredibly, it is precisely this artificiality of it that generates emotional responses you'd never expect. 28 years and no less than five editions later (!), Blade Runner is a cinematically stunning biblical narrative about Man's desire to confront his Maker – and, maybe, gouge his eyes out… Paced like a 70's movie really, yet dressed up in its sci-fi nines (enter '80s), it demands your attention simply by addressing directly such trivialities as mortality, identity and, to this writer, a love story for the ages. Set decoration, detail and gusto is of orgasmic intensity and brilliance, Cronenweth's photography entails textbook perfection and Vangelis' score is of clear, undisputed divine origin.

Crazy Heart (2009)

Missed opportunity but still a good "male" movie

[6/10 · 8 September 2010]

I've always had a soft spot for movies about sunset, washed up males with nothing to prove and even less to say about their downfall. It's a game of empathy I guess, or may be not. Jeff Bridges' "Bad" –"you'll read my real name in my tombstone" – Blake is that kind of man. Alcoholic, sick to the bone, twilight country singer – back to the day when country seemed to hold a darker, rustier kind of edge to it. Doesn't say much, drinks his way to the evening – though "days and nights look the same" – chain smokes and plays those dead end low joints of even lower turn outs. Doesn't compose anymore, a good old best of track list seems to (barely) pay the bills.

In other words imagine the Wrestler with a Fender Tremolux. Same old age anxiety, same bitterness, and same barrel-bottomed dignity. If only Mr. Scott Cooper had been the kind of director Mr. Aronofsky is. Scared of the shadows, reluctant to allow unpleasantness roll the misery dice of Bridges' superb performance, Mr. Cooper chooses the conventional, trodden path. It's fine by me, the breathing space is there, the juxtaposition of dark interiors and bright, open space Midwest works right, Ms. Gylenhaal's never been better (or prettier), the slow-handed finale wrenches your insides like any good old love story should do. It's just the opportunity for a great American picture missed that aches a bit. It'll be all right. Us weary kinders will get by.

Drag Me to Hell (2009)

Superb, unpretentious horror

[10/10 · 8 September 2010]

Raimi goes guiltlessly berserk – or "Argento" in the urban cinephile lingo – presenting what has to be one of the finest tongue-in-cheek and deliberate horror surrealist jokes in history. In no more than the plot of a curse to be fulfilled in three days, Drag me to Hell blinks an eye to a burlesque version of the Exorcist, but finds its cinematic opposite in Tourneur's Curse of the Demon. "Pity" then that Raimi doesn't for a second believe his story. This is not to say, however, that he won't rely in his finely measured directorial prowess and make you believe. The old gypsy woman curse sequence ought to be anthologized in the years to come, scares, virtuosity and mise-en scene is near perfect, but what is actually audience needed here, is Raimi' s incredible contempt for thick headed seriousness and academic recognition.

Shutter Island (2010)

A barely enjoyable miss

[4/10 · 2 September 2010]

Forgetting the sucker I am for this kind of genre filmmaking I'm afraid I have to abstain from this one. Mr. Scorsese 's been trying too hard to make a grand, Oscar wining movie too long and now he's won it he seems plagued by his habit. The touch is officially lost. Blame it on the legend.

Right or wrong a noirish crime psychodrama is heavily relied on its plot. To this writer, and I guess to anyone who's read his Edgar Allan Poe and seen his Angel Heart - the far superior movie ancestor of this one – the plot is known in the first ten minutes. The rest, plot-wise, is an alarmingly unpleasant déjà vu. Of course, this being a Scorsese picture, it ought to contain more than meets the eye. It does – to a point at least. There is obsession, pain, guilt, and wrong turns taken. There is also the bombast of self-importance and meaning. Shutter Island (I'd hoped) wasn't the case for applying this kind of filmmaking mentality. Spectacularly, Island, besides being the patchwork of cinematic tributes to end all patchworks, also seeks for post post-modern auteuristic appraisal – not to mention a voracious self-gratification/affirmation. Hitchcock, Fuller, Siegel – all of them here imitated, none of them Oscar holder – would never indulge…

Mr. Di Caprio, next only to his last year's performance in Revolutionary Road, is near perfect, the personification of the failing powers of a broken man. But, make no mistakes this a Scorsesian picture – even more than Gangs of New York and Aviator were in their own egomaniacal way. Overindulgent and cinematically aware, this is a 138 minute thriller of the mind emulating genre cinema of the 40s-50s that was about 50 minutes briefer and decidedly more economical. It is beautifully shot and meticulously executed of course but all is so overtly stylized and unfortunately scripted to feel redundant at half time. Scorsese has never been a director of atmospheres in the manner of a Vidor, a Tourneur or a Wise and by attempting at exactly their kind of filmmaking – which he admittedly adores and rightfully acknowledges – fails considerably. His strength has always been addressing the fallen male and in that he manages a welcomely engaging finale – albeit, a gloriously predictable one.

An ill masterpiece for the scholars of the future – who undoubtedly will contribute volumes of their own lives projected in the film – a barely enjoyable miss to the rest.

Invictus (2009)

An understated classic

[7/10 · 2 September 2010]

Film reviewers in their self-appointed omniscience, occasionally tend to forget the obvious; for example that Invictus, Eastwood's 30th feature length film in 38 years isn't a study of south African politics, but a mere adaptation of a book about a political leader and a rugby game. New light through the old windows then… Here is a film, magisterially constructed, stately executed, of course, about a man's political insight and the dedicated seriousness with which this insight must be served. Nothing frivolous or "likeable" about great Mr. Freeman's interpretation of the Man. Instead he builds a thoughtful diplomat, a passive aggressive person of gentle manners and obsessive persistence. Mr. Eastwood's only arguable decision – if I may – is his conscious attempt to portray a situation in its almost pedestrian, at times, reality, relieved of any real danger of things going the wrong way. For a director who never indulged in the suspenseless, this comes as a surprise… Yet, on second thought, the game itself is not the issue at hand. Yes, it may occupy the grand finale and, plausibly apply the upbeat feeling, but Mr. Eastwood's cinema almost always is elsewhere: In the reintegration, understanding and affirmation of the Male, of the one who makes the necessary decisions to solidify the social web. And under this light, Invictus is one with the director's unmistakable canon.

Up in the Air (I) (2009)

Irritatingly smooth "americana"

[2/10 · 31 August 2010]

I don't neglect the virtues of this universally acclaimed Oscar nominee. I cannot. No, sir. It has perfect editing, superior narrative fluidity, well written dialogue, a leading man so charming that can sell you a concentration camp as a lifetime vacation in the Caribbean… These seem to be enough to get you an Oscar nod these days. This excruciating film by most recent keeper of the American faith, Mr. Jason Reitman, of the Juno reputation (another freak example of Midwestern voice with a coastal accent), chooses its hero to be a man who enjoys firing people of their jobs and coveting air-travelling mileage. The second gets reasonably resolved; the first seems to be perfectly OK with the filmmakers. People are disconnected in our fragmented times, they are in a continuous transitory state, metaphorically "on air" each and every moment. We don't criticize; that's just how things are – who wants to be accused of didacticism anyway?

Furthermore, an unbearable filmic transition from the purity of physical attraction to the life-altering joys of domesticity takes on gradually. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against companionship, family love, whatever. It just is not the case for everyone. Let me phrase it otherwise: I enjoy Nora Ephron films; this one can be Ephron-cute. I adore James L. Brooks films; this one has Brooks'-dialogue sparkles and character intonation. I deeply admire Alexander Payne; Up in the Air would have a distinctly different "up in…" conclusion in his vocabulary.

The Godfather Part III (1990)

A splendid finale

[10/10 · 31 August 2010]

Occasionally marred by certain technical imperfections (such as problematic dubbing or, at least in one instance, unacceptably bad editing) and an unfortunate casting choice, the third part of the Godfather saga is the ill masterpiece that never got the recognition it deserved. Few directors possess the Promethean touch to spark atmosphere in their master shot, the feel for historical detail, the breath for a period saga, the skill to narrate a layered plot or the demonic ability to translate the operatic passion to a crime story. Mr. Coppola is this Viscontian descendant and the Godfather is his three-part Gatopardo. Godfather III is a film of almost serene beauty, toned perfectly in its operatic fatalism, shot (surprisingly for such a fluid picture) in mainly steady shots, baptized in the blessed air of Sicily for the better half of it and forever haunted by the probably deserved but certainly emotionally devastating fall of its protagonist.

Canyon Passage (1946)

A great unknown western

[8/10 · 31 August 2010]

Frequently termed as "psychological", this find of a western, directed by the great Jacques Tourneur less than a year before Out of the Past, is way beyond this kind of terminology. In fact there's no psychology at all, unless you count as such what the spectator compulsively does in need to explain character actions. Tourneur however, not for a moment indulges in narrative superficiality. Instead convolutes a series of deeds, juxtaposes numerous characters, focuses obsessively in directing the glances between the characters (always in medium shots), complexes his camera movements and setups in a way as to convey western dialectics rarely seen before or after. From a presentation of the settler's phase in mid 19th century American west, to a thinly disguised homosexual relationship and from a discussion of frontier justice to an elliptically thoughtful apology on the American Indian issue, Canyon Passage (no canyon in the film…) is the archetypal Western film of actions (but no action, apart from the final Indian attack) defining human character and motive. Tourneur's first (and gloriously shot) colour film.

A Serious Man (2009)

Consistently brilliant!

[9/10 · 31 August 2010]

There's a moment in the beginning, when Mr. Michael Stuhlbarg says to a persistent Asian student of his, that math are the means to understand his physics and he uses a fable to illustrate.

A Serious Man, the consistently brilliant outing by the currently most in shape American directors, is exactly that. And they also use a fable to illustrate.

You simply have got to know the Coen universe to understand this film, a film about physics, chance and occurring improbability in an outrageously godless world.

On the surface, Judaism offers the clear cut answers – the dybbuk prelude is a script device in a class of its own, with no other predecessor but the Sam Elliott character in the Big Lebowski – mother nature denies to ascertain. In its name, all religion is called down. Humorously detached, cynically observant, bitterly pessimistic, the latest Coen input is a glorious masterpiece of understating the horror of human bondage and their greatest film since that life-altering Dude of mythopoeic America.

A Single Man (2009)

Interesting but intimately flawed

[5/10 · 31 August 2010]

The biggest surprise in Mr.Tom Ford's directorial debut is also its major flaw. It is an interesting, for luck of better word, study of emotional loss, on the one hand. Mr. Ford proves to be not only a fashion designer/magician (he actually single-handedly saved Gucci a few years ago) but also a challenging director of the "excessively understated".

At the same time, A Single Man is the unmistakable work of a…fashion designer.While being a modernized but, truth be said, gentle rip-off of the Viscontian Death in Venice, it represents also a kind of sterile, over-stylized world vision, where Mercedes' leathers, interior designs, clothes (…) and, more importantly, human behavior, are all as hysterically elegant as possible. In that sense Mr. Ford's work could be reduced to being an impressionist, colorfully shot autobiography.

Definitely a worthy effort however, a joy to behold at moments – especially the first third contains a beautiful comment on the machinations of memory of the one that got away – but strangely cerebral and visually elitist – unless you belong in the world where every damn dress code detail matters. Mr. Firth, a unique image blending of a '60s Mastroianni and a young Yves Saint-Laurent, offers a greatly reserved George, in the performance of a (so far) lifetime.

Brief Encounter (1945)

British delight

[7/10 · 30 August 2010]

The apotheosis of Britishness, the utter realm of living your life in "quite desperation". Brief Encounter is, for many at least, the final word of cinema in the long unresolved issue of human love affairs. Calm and, at times, almost dispassionate, fragile and princely understating, this one is the triumph of the narrative cinema of emotions – but never emotionalism. You can blame it endlessly – for its high minded Britishness, for its dated nobility, for the pride of its characters before real love – but you would be missing the point. Brief Encounter is the product of its times and accusing it of reserve would be as if condemning a Jane Austen novel for not including pages of oral intercourse. And, in any case, how many times in your "film life" will you find yourself before such sincerity of expression of unselfish love AND feel strangely unfulfilled similarly to the characters portrayed?

The Deadly Affair (1967)

Good old spy flick

[7/10 · 30 August 2010]

Being one of the less familiar entries in the Lumet canon, The Deadly Affair is a superior John Le Carré spy cold war drama, based on his first published novel "Call for the Dead". The author's ability to infuse his characters with the necessary humanity, the flaws and melancholy of living in a world rapidly evolving beyond their control always does it for me and the same happens here. Mr. Lumet captures cold war London, describes the routine of decidedly unglamorous government agents (think 007 in reverse), tormented by nymphomaniac wives, sleepiness (…) and, typical of Le Carre, confronted with the emotional frustration of questioning old friendships. Few abrupt "Roeg-ish" cuttings aside, this one gains from its splendid Freddie Young photography, the exceptional production design and the jazzy Quincy Jones soundtrack. Performances vary from the (usual) delight in watching Mason, to the magnetic (Signoret) and the downright awkward – Ms. Andersson (Bergman's one time muse) may be a wisely twisted choice but acts unconvincingly hysterical. Genre fans expected.

Inception (2010)

In search of his masterwork..

[8/10 · 30 August 2010]

Cerebral like a Kubrick infected Egoyan, possessor of a Spielbergian touch, sharing Cameron's technological mania, Nolan is (at least) four directors in one - but that's merely an understatement. Far from being perfect or entirely original, Inception proves to be the, so far, magnum opus of a distinct auteur in search of his masterwork. For this Mr. Nolan most certainly is. A one-man-league director, shot out in his entirely own universe of filmmaking, a craftsman who knows how to divide his action and create a (sort of televised) montage of suspenseful situations (Lord of the Rings calling…), a man who addresses action operatically and melodrama as an action set-piece. Thematically speaking this one is a "pick and choose" work – almost worthy of the "masterpiece" term accompanying it. Guilt, the search for familial redemption, dream as the imprint of an iconic civilization, the list goes on for 2 ½ hours. And it does so in an emotionally accomplished manner. Few negative reviews have mentioned a lack of heart at the core of it – but this is the Kubrickean aspect Nolan seeks. If that's the game he's after, he definitely has to ease on the wordiness, slow down the pace, look for a different composer and restrict himself to talking about fewer things vertically than more, horizontally. In any case, his masterpiece breathes nearby ahead