| rob, this is for you: |
[Aug. 13th, 2006|01:05 pm] |
SMALLVILLE [first few episodes]- Very innovative concept, with wonderfully creative ideas, writing, and acting. This series has completely refuted many of my major expectations of this show, which is a very good thing. I thought that this would be about Superboy. Obviously. Its Clark Kent in Smallville, with powers. Yet, as far as I can tell, the whole name “Superboy” as well as the costume, is completely absent. Instead, we are left with the idea of alien Clark being rocketed to Earth and found by the Kents, and growing up in 2000 era small town (yet, oddly more liberal and less backward than is perhaps realistic). At first this premise bothered me; I mean, a young, good looking Jon and Martha Kent; A dark haired Lana Lang; a black Pete Ross; Young Lex Luthor; and most of all, NO COSTUME. Yet, the creators have managed to create a whole new type of experience, separate from the earlier Superboy tv series and also far removed from the near-camp romance-action drama LOIS AND CLARK. The idea that Smallville is plagued by strange events as a result of the meteor shower that brought Clark to Smallville is brilliant, as it makes every villain that Clark fights almost a direct result of his landing on Earth, thus linking the hero with his enemies in a very destiny-oriented fashion. Everything is connected so well. Lana wears a Kryptonite necklace around her neck, because it was that meteor that killed her parents, but then Clark feels sick around her because of that same necklace (even though he loves her). Great conflict! As well, though it seems a little Dawson’s Creekish in its teenage melodrama nature, the acting is actually very very good, and the writing has fun with the characters, feeling like a kid version of X-Files much of the time. I like the idea of Lex being a guy who is basically trying to be good and well-liked. Tom Welling does a great job of portraying Clark as a realistic high schooler, who wants to fit in, but is also just a sweet smalltown boy with a good heart, and knows he has to use his powers for good. This show is intruiging and touching and very engaging. My major complaints mainly have to do with music (which clearly blasts the audience in the face with the fact that this is a show on WB, and thus has to be teeny-boppery. This is quite annoying, and the music is really ugly poppy and mainstream crud. The theme song is slowly growing on me, but its still pretty eww). Also, the SFX are miserable. How did they allow this to happen? Shouldn’t that be one of the draws of the show? Seeing “Superboy” doing super things at least mildly amazing. LOIS AND CLARK aired ten years ago, and that show was able to have lots and lots of believable stunt work, yet now, with CGI, it seems like everyone is too lazy to do practical effects, leaving lots of shitty looking and obviously computerized effects (lots of computer matte shots, Clark’s “superspeed” whirrl effect, etc.). They look so fake and are quite annoying, cuz they end up distracting from the whole scene. Hopefully, this will improve, but I am still quite shocked at how miserable it is.
CELEBRATION- [4.5] Exceptional film, especially considering the strict rules of Dogme (95) that this production had to adhere to. What is especially extraordinary is the fact that no time during the viewing of this film does one consciously think of the Dogme aesthetic; Thomas Vinterberg completely embraces the “Rules of the Game” and skillfully weaves a tale of such complex, hideous emotions that the sparse and meager camera work only heightens the claustrophobic, empathetic punch of the film. The writing is astoundingly real and powerful, and I wonder how much was scripted and how much was ad-libbed (I’m actually guessing most was scripted). The energy and spontaneity of the framing and the acting is completely engrossing. In other circumstances, the acting may be termed “melodramatic” and the camera work “dizzying, unfocused, amateurish”, but here it is what makes everything so much more “real” and so much more satisfying. The movie begins almost comically, with an eccentric motley of family members all convening for the patriarch’s 60th birthday celebration at his huge house in the country. While there is some odd tension (friction among couples, father/son) as well as spirit of the man’s dead daughter lingering around (she committed suicide in the upstairs bathroom, and for a while, it seems as if her actual ghost may become a character in the film, ala the ghosts in Von Trier’s THE KINDGOM), the story seems to be having fun exploring these strange characters. At the dinner toast, however, the announcement of one son takes everyone (including the audience) by complete surprise. As events unfold, the party unravels, chaos ensues, and the audience shrieks in disgust and horror at the proceedings. Paprika Steen as Helene, the depressed, half-sane sister who has the audacity to date a Black American, is my favorite out of the whole bunch; she is completely likeable and sympathetic, though her weaknesses and timidity are accepted and never annoying. We never pity her, but we do feel for her. Paprika reminds me a lot of Teri Garr; something about her innocence, mild strength, and sincerity (a definite plus!). The Dogme standard of using only natural lighting may have hindered a few shots (which are completely dark), but Vinterberg skillfully uses this restriction to build suspense and heighten the reality of the impending nightfall and, later, the emerging dawn. This was an amazing experience, as harrowing as WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLFE, but in many ways, far more disturbing.
TWO THOUSAND MANIACS!- [3.6] This was quite a disappointment after the somewhat polished (in comparison with others like Doris Wishman) quality and eccentricity of SOMETHING WEIRD. This was the second, and perhaps most famous, of Hershel Gordon Lewis’ blood trilogy. The acting, is better than BLOOD FEAST, with Jeffrey Allen enthusiastically going wild with his part as the hillbilly town’s mayor, and William Kerwin gives some decent effort to his role as Tom White, though his character lacks any believable personality. Connie Mason, former Playboy model, has improved since her disastrous starring role in BLOOD FEAST, but at least she’s okay to look at. Unfortunately, the gore effects, humor, and, ahem, ‘suspense’ of the previous film (and the one that follows) are not as consistent in this HGL effort. I like the premise: a small town that was destroyed in the Civil War, returns as a ghost after one hundred years to get revenge on those pesky yanks from the north. None of the deaths are particularly memorable, though the annoying bratty hick kid is. The crowd scenes are fairly ridiculous, but this was a pretty entertaining flick.
BLOOD FEAST- [3.7] First in HGL’s masterpieces of gore. William Kerwin and Connie Mason are a rather uninteresting, unenergetic pair of protagonists; this movie is carried solely on the shoulders of Mal Arnold (as the deliciously slow-moving, slow-talking, gray haired, limping killer, Fuad Ramses) and oodles of overdone bloody effects. The opening scene: a radio warning a young girl to stay at home because of a killer on the loose, so she goes to take a bath, and out of nowhere, a man appears and stabs her eye out, leaving her bloody hand to slide down the tub, very reminiscent of PSYCHO, actually. This is followed by an older woman visiting Ramses exotic catering store, where he ‘hypnotizes’ her with his devilish eyes, and gets the job of giving her an authentic ‘Egyptian feast’ for her daughters party. Naturally, shit goes down, and crippled Ramses kills lots of other girls, somehow without leaving any clue for the police. Just as he’s about to kill the marvelously idiotic Connie, her mother walks in and Ramses flees to the desert (?), where he throws his nice into the ground, and jumps in a garbage truck where he is crushed. The end. It was only a little more than an hour long, but had some wonderfully idiotic death scenes (a girl is beaten to a pulp on the beach, and a snake appears out of nowhere to slither through the blood). Fun start to a wild career.
ELEPHANT- [3.8] Slow, hypnotic, and oddly fascinating film by Gus Van Sant, about a Columbine-like school shooting. With very little dialogue and plenty of extended steadycam shots and long takes, Van Sant is able to present a poet imagining of high school: not literal enough to be depressing, but not too filmic as to be stereotypical. Instead, it encapsulates the feeling of high school; a feeling of being adrift. There were some moments that seemed out-of-touch and awkward only because of how predictable they were (mainly, shots of the shooters playing video games, then the popular girls throwing up their lunch simultaneously).
PUCCINI FOR BEGINNERS- [3.8] Maria Maggenti comes off as a feminist, queer Woody Allen in her wonderfully written and directed movie about a young woman who can’t commit (to a relationship, or even her self-proclaimed lesbianism). Elizabeth Reaser, who I had never heard of or seen before, blew me away with her casual, cute, and utterly convincing character. Her character IS what Woody has been showing himself to be for years: a romantic, who falls in love too much and can never keep a healthy relationship, an intellectual, and an opera-lover. Yet, unlike in some Woody pictures where it seems totally unnatural for the characters to love opera (MATCHPOINT?), here it just fits so well. Allegra (Reaser’s character) is so wonderful to watch, she has these deep, fascinating, soulful eyes. I couldn’t get enough of her. Gretchen Mol and Justin Kirk were steady backup players (and suitable lovers for Allegra), but they don’t impress nearly as much as Reaser. What works so well is that the film doesn’t harp on gay issues or hot steamy sex scenes, but plays out subtly, romantically, and in a very un-ironic, earnestly hilarious way. It’s a breath of fresh air, and something that Woody himself would have done two decades ago. That said, there are the occasional amateur missteps (the caricatured jock fiancé, who’s clueless, too masculine, and ultimately expendable). I enjoyed the brief, but unobtrusive shattering of reality with Allegra hearing random people giving her advice on the street. Very Annie Hall-ish. I don’t know, everything worked pretty well for me, except the third act, in which I needed more passion and chemistry between the main players. I mean, neither Mol nor Kirk’s characters ever felt real enough or sympathetic enough to care about. When they were around Allegra, it almost worked, but there were too many moments when it just wasn’t magical enough. That said, this is still one of the best “gay” movies I’ve seen in a long while. Uplifting and heartwarming.
ENRON: THE SMARTEST GUYS IN THE ROOM- [4.4] Brilliant documentary, told in a clear, informative manner. Most impressively, though the documentarians obviously don’t side with Enron, they show the situation to be complex and the main men in charge are shown to be tragic humans, not evil machines. Unlike the manipulative liberalism of THE CORPORATION, this film doesn’t wallow in politics, but instead examines matters of ethics. The interviewees seem extremely smart and informed and willing to tell all they know (especially interesting was the surprisingly candid interview with ex-Gov Grey Davis). The music, editing, and division of the film into chapters focusing on each individual power player made the film flow beautifully. I was entertained and horrified as the web of lies kept building and spiraling out of control. The interview with the journalist who finally brought up some skepticism to the public presentation of an unstoppable Enron was totally captivating. That she is an incredibly intelligent and well-spoken woman is more of a plus. This movie enraged me so much, and made me so much more interested in business and corporate matters than any other documentary or news article has.
LENNY- [3.2] Erratically written and filmed, this movie attempts a grand biography and character examination of controversial comic Lenny Bruce. Never having actually seen/heard the real Lenny doing his material, it is hard for me to judge the accuracy of Dustin Hoffman’s performance, but it is nonetheless an interesting role. The story is told somewhat chronologically, with lots of elipses (jumping from one scene to another in time, without any transitional effects to notify the audience of the progression of time) and flashforwards to interviews with characters following Lenny’s death. The film is a mix of straight biopic with Citizen Kane-like fake documentary-style interviews. I still don’t feel like I know or understand any of the characters, especially Lenny. His comedy wasn’t that funny, and it is really hard to understand, watching this film, how he could have been so popular. The extended take at the end, with Lenny high out of his mind, on stage in a raincoat, unable to string together any coherent thoughts, was extremely uncomfortable and well done, though the lack of reaction from the crowd made it feel not wholly true. Also, I expected more scenes showing Lenny slowly losing his mind to drugs and obsession with his court cases. Instead of making a very personal story, this feels like an outsiders look at the Lenny Bruce mystique. The moments I most wanted to see (Lenny using, being fragile, desperate, and especially to see him dying, whether it be suicidal or not) were not included. This felt like a “safe” movie, in that it didn’t dare to really study or critique this infamous figure, but merely regurgitated matters of public knowledge. And the experimental/erratic 70’s camera work and editing…its displacing and doesn’t feel right for the 1950’s period this is supposed to take place in.
THEY SHOOT HORSES DON’T THEY?- [4.1] Hypnotizing and numbing downer tale of a Depression-era sport known as the Marathon Derby, in which dozens of hopeful contestants wear themselves out for the enjoyment of sadistic audiences. Jane Fonda is superb as the angry, bitter woman who will do anything she can to survive in this god-awful world. She’s a winner, and she won’t let anyone stand in her way at getting the prize money. She seems cold and heartless, but we can see in her eyes just how desperate and worn-out she really is. Michael Sarrazin is also terrific as a naïve, drifting loner whose got nothing to lose. Sydney Pollack does an amazing job of introducing the various bit players in this high-stakes drama, and making us care fore each and every one of them. We see their hopes and dreams slowly desintegrate, and as each of them is disqualified (or dies), bits of the audience’s own hope vanishes. The pace alternates from slow and deliberate to fast and furious cutting. Though we see the same motion throughout the film (people dancing and dancing), the exhaustion of the dancers is transferred to the audience. We become just as worn out as the characters, but we can’t stop watching, just like they can’t stop dancing. This is a horribly tragic film, and its fortunate that Pollack was able to film all of this in chronological order, as it lends a sense of real horror to the chaos onscreen. The ringleader of the Derby is wonderfully played by ___, and he gives an incredibly passionate performance, where the audience doesn’t know if they should like him or ultimately despise his inhumanity. The images are spellbinding, and the final scenes of desperation and despair are some of the most passionate in film history. And finally, in the second to last image of the film, Michael is placed in the back of the paddy wagon, and the officer asks him, “Why’d you do it, kid?” And Michael turns to him, with those glossy eyes pleading, and he utters the hitherto meaningless title, “They shoot horses, don’t they?” and all of a sudden, I am filled with illumination and a wonderful sense of closure. It is the saddest last line to any Hollywood film. As the last image of the derby slowly fades from the screen, the audience is as exhausted and listless as Michael, praying to be put out of their misery.
BUTTERFIELD 8- [3.3] Entertaining if rather vapid melodrama, whose main strength is a strong and feisty performance by Liz Taylor. Eddie Fisher is decent as the close (maybe too close?) friend of that NYC slut Gloria, but Laurence Harvey’s bored, cold, and misogynistic richie rich character gets annoying pretty fast. There’s not a whole lot of complexity to the story, and it appears that the incredibly tepid storyline (involving a party girl who wants to get her life back on track) was supposed to be daring and provocative at the time. All the characters are shocked by Gloria’s animalistic social skills, and her own mother vainly tries to deny the fact that Gloria never comes back home at night (though its weird that Gloria, in the prime of her life, is still living with mommy). The car crash at the end is pretty messed up, and I can’t believe that they would kill off the main protagonist (though its probably one of those 1950 morality tales: this is what happens to bad girls!!).
BLOW OUT- [3.6] Enjoyable, though often a bit too ludicrous and unbelievable, even for a DePalma film. The cinematography is gorgeous, with lush 1970’s colors reminiscent of Argento giallo spectacles. This film lacks all the subtlety and brilliance of its source material, BLOW-UP, but it does manage to thrill and titillate in that sleazy, film student, rip-off type of way. The acting is fine, and Travolta actually turns in a very convincing portrayal of a sound recordist who accidentally witnesses a murder. Though he can at times be too intense, Travolta is still leaps and bounds better than Nancy Allen, who is utterly forgettable as the poor, naïve seductress partly responsible for the murder. Dennis Franz and John Lithgow have small, but juicy roles (in fact, Lithgow was quite frightening in his performance as the killer). The opening segment is beautifully postmodern, as the audience watches a film that Travolta is working on, without realizing that its not the actual movie BLOW OUT. After that though, the cleverness wears out and DePalma’s script becomes more and more absurd. The killer is revealed way too early on, and the entire mystery of “did the murder actually happen?” is done away with in some quick scenes in which characters’ expositions reveal who was behind the murders and their motives (which were quite shady at best). Lithgow as a rogue assassin who tries to cover up his long term plan to murder Nancy Allen by murdering other “sluts” in the city so as to avert attention away—well, its just silly! The end too, is quite ambiguous, as we aren’t sure if Nancy lived or died, though we know Travolta is sad about something (though, in a wonderfully morbid touch, not sad enough to ignore the perfect placement of Nancy’s real-life death cry in the film that Travolta had been working on). Sugary late-night fun.
PEE WEE’S BIG ADVENTURE- [3.5] So apparently this is a movie that I should have definitely seen as a kid. Throughout my life, there have been constant references to this film that I never got till now. First, I don’t remember watching anything with Pee Wee in my youth; no playhouse; no tv or movies; my only exposure seems to have been a giant white stuffed bear (twice my size at the time) that wore XXL-sized underwear signed by Pee Wee. Nonetheless, this film has been on my list since I discovered that it was also one of the earliest directorial efforts of Tim Burton, and it certainly lives up to his visual standards. It’s a glorious kaleidescope of colors and fruity imagination. Unlike a lot of people in the audience, though, I wasn’t completely carried away by Pee Wee’s sense of humor; maybe because it was so new to me and so familiar to everyone else, but the simple, repeated laugh and nonsensical gestures kind of wore out their appeal for me after the first few scenes. There were plenty of laugh-out-loud moments to be sure, but there was also just a lot of plain strangeness, that on its own, was hardly comical. Of course, there were the iconic scenes that highlighted the movie: Pee Wee doing his infamous dance to “Tequila”, trying to find the basement at the Alamo, and running around the Cabazon dinosaurs (that can be found off the 10 freeway); these are scenes that have been referenced numerous times in my life, and now I finally understand them. Though that gave me a great sense of satisfaction and a mild sense of closure, this movie’s threadbare plot and loose style and sense of humor weren’t always attractive. Maybe it will take more exposure to the character to fully “get” him, but as of now, I’m glad that Pee Wee has been put to rest.
BOXING HELENA- [0.4] I was wrong. I refused to believe that this could be one of the worst movies ever made. It was made by Jennifer Chambers Lynch, who, by genes alone, should have inherited at least a small fraction of her father’s genius. And if nothing else, it starred Sherilyn Fenn in what appeared to be a highly erotic role. Well, lets just say that this is truly a worthless waste of celluloid. I’m hard-pressed to think of anything that’s RIGHT with this movie. I mean, the cinematography was okay (in that there were colors, some framing, and things were generally in focus), but now that I think of it, a lot of the cinematography was atrocious. This film is littered with slow-mo shots, supposedly to intensify the “erotic tension” of the film, and heighten the viewer’s understanding of just what a seductress Helena is. This technique is beyond laughable. I wanted to hide my head in my hands, I was so embarrassed for the film. Then, there’s the spinning camera around the phone booth when the doctor is trying to call someone. Why was the camera spinning? I don’t know, but it didn’t look cool or serve any purpose. Then there were those strange dream-like images of statues exploding and a transformation of daylight to nightlight that must have taken all day to film. Yet…ultimately, why? Then, the dialogue. Apparently, this was written by Jennifer when she was 19 years old. Well, darling, someone probably should have rewritten this horrible, stilted sentences of yours. But, even when blocking out the inane words eminating from their mouths, the actors are atrocious. Art Garfunkel is in this movie. He’s the protagonist’s best friend. Why? Why is anyone friends with Dr. Nick Cavanaugh. He’s the drippiest, most uninteresting, unlikeable, obsessive, neurotic, and annoying character ever possibly written as the star of a film. When he throws a party and all those people show up, I was astonished. Where did they come from? Were they all there for the free booze? Whenever anyone interacted with the doctor, it was incredibly awkward because no one could even ACT like they had a relationship with him. When Garfunkel tries to console and advice his “friend,” the sentiments are so strained and foraced, I was cringing. Speaking of the doctor, its not just the character that sucks, its also the actor, Julian Sands. He’s a poor man’s poor man’s made-in-Chine rip-off of legitimate actor Jeremy Irons. I don’t understand why this rich man is British (when his parents displayed no such accent in the flashbacks), why he lives in that ridiculously gaudy mansion, why he wears a cotton ball in his ears, or why he makes the most excrutiating facial contortions I’ve ever seen. He moans and pouts and sobs and has messed up hallucinations of his mother. Why? I’m not sure, but apparently she roamed the house naked all the time. Why? Goodness, this film just leaves the viewer with an endless series of questions that will never, COULD never be answered. Why is Julian Sands still getting work? Sigh. And Sheriyln Fenn. The one hopeful, redeeming feature of this film. Well, she’s beautiful all right. And she tries, oh she tries hard, to act around the pathetic character written for her. But ultimately, she’s not good enough to save herself. Her bitchiness is confusingly erratic, and her evolving love for the doctor comes out of nowhere and is more sickening than erotic. In fact, the first time we see her, when she is fucking Bill Paxton, its really horrifying (made even worse by possibly THE WORST SCORE EVER WRITTEN—it sounds like it was made for a porn film, but then rejected, and quickly scooped up by Jennifer Lynch). Bill Paxton…if he hadn’t played his role so straight, he could be forgiven for his wretchedly cliché character, but Bill, godblesshim, is determined to steal the show with his over-the-top jealous boyfriend with a club and a gun. If all of this sounds like the makings for a cult classic…think again. There’s funny bad, like SHOWGIRLS, and then there’s unwatchable garbage like this. This isn’t a ‘trash’ film. This is a miserable film. |
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| its been a while. |
[Apr. 22nd, 2006|11:31 pm] |
FELLINI’S CASANOVA- [3.7] Donald Sutherland is my new favorite character actor. From his creepy, repressed performance as the pitiful Homer Simpson in DAY OF THE LOCUST to his flamboyant, ridiculously unconventional portrayal of the infamous lover Casanova, Sutherland has been utterly convincing. Even though the man who dubs Sutherland’s voice into Italian does a good job, with very expressive and curiously delivered lines, I would have loved to have heard Sutherland’s interpretation of the dialogue. I think that, combined with his exaggerated and nutty performance, would be quite a feet to behold.
THE CORPORATION- [3.5] Way way overlong doc about the history of the American corporation and, basically, exposing its evil EVIL ways. This film, from the outset, clearly has an agenda. This isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but it does get bogged down in its own self-righteous preachyness at times (okay, a lot of the time), and this, added with the two hours plus running time make this a rather tedious film to sit through. While offering some keen insight into the history of the corporation, some monumental court cases (such as the one that made the corporation count as a legal human entity), and the global effects of corporations, the film manages to make even a heartless bastard like me question the glories of the capitalist system and wonder how in the world the corporation will ever be stopped. One of my main gripes through the whole film is the graphics. While I understand that talking head docs are boring, and the need for inserts and b-rolls is paramount, the editing felt way too poppy and “hip” (maybe too “green party” neo-liberal) to be really effective. The film felt like it was trying to hard to be a popular film among elite liberals than a socially conscious warning to normal filmgoers. As far as the film’s bias is concerned, a few ill-chosen people speak up for the corporations, but they are more or less ridiculed by themselves and by the interviewers. Also, this film focuses exclusively on the American corporation, giving the impression that it is only America that has shoved this imperialistic greedy behemoth onto the world. This is a sad (intentional?) byproduct, and would be more forgivable if the corporation were given more of a curious examination (what Is a corporation? Why are they so successful? Why do we like them?) than an accusative, almost deflamatory condemnation. I had heard great things about this film, but it left me rather cold (though mildly contemplative about the state of affairs in America).
A STAR IS BORN (1976)- [3.8] Not completely campy, but enough to let a remake like this turn into a uniquely appealing gem. Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson ham it up big time as stars in love, with Kris’s fame falling as Barbra’s steadily rises. The depictions of Arizona (they move into a desert house near Tucson) are quaint and amusing. The most appealing aspect of this movie to me was the camera work, which was distinctly 70s in its looseness and free-flowing movements, coupled with dozens of great zooms. The film also did a very nice job of feeling like half of a concert film, with great footage of the stage acts, and a ridiculously long one-take of barbra’s last song at the end of the film, where she cries and then wipes away her tears and belts out her inspirational rebuke to loneliness (all in about six minutes). Gary Busey is also very good as the realistically slimy manager (never over-playing the role, which establishes him as a really affectionate scoundrel). The scene at the Grammys (where it seems the biggest guest star they could gleam was Tony Orlando!!) is frustratingly hilarious, as we see Kris embarrass himself the way we wish every obnoxious celebrity would do. The movie is a bit long, clocking in at about two and a half hours, but most of the journey is fun and, contrary to its campiness, actually engaging.
LADYBUG, LADYBUG- [3.0] This reminded me a lot like the old Twilight Zone episode where everyone thinks that the BOMB is gonna drop soon, so all these neighbors start panicking, and only one family has a bomb shelter, so there is a lot of fighting about who gets to go in the shelter, how to keep it safe, and lots of arguing among friends. Finally, in the end, they realize that the BOMB isn’t gonna drop, and they all look at each other foolishly and realize their relationships are forever changed. This film had many similarities to that episode (which I feel was a common theme in entertainment in those days- the elitism of the bomb shelter. I seem to recall a HAPPY DAYS episode about it, and then there are all those other Cold War scare films, THE DAY AFTER, et al.). Fortunately, this movie had a lot more cleverness and heart to it. The children’s performances were pretty good, especially considering that it was a youth-ensemble film for the most part. The adults were fine as well, except for William Daniels (Mr Feeny on tv’s BOY MEETS WORLD). His vocal mannerisms are strange enough to be endearing and comical as an older teacher in a playful comedy show, but as a young man in a dramatic film…its just weird, annoying, and distracting (and oddly, reminded me too much of Frank Langella from DIARY OF A MAD HOUSEWIFE, in his inflections and acting style).
HERE (2005) - [4.5] Fred Worden crafted this brilliant, mesmerizing, and unforgettable visual experience that goes beyond standard narrative criticism to revel in the possibilities of the basic concepts of persistence of vision and montage. In one of the most spectacular editing jobs in the whole of avant-garde cinema, Worden masterfully blends footage from Melies’ A TRIP TO THE MOON and Laurence Olivier’s HENRY V. I tried to take apart the edit as I watched the film, but was completely unable to; the compilation created is complex enough to be considered a whole new film, divorced from its originals. The music works exceptionally well to draw the viewer into this epileptic’s nightmare, where it felt less like 24 or 30 frames a second, and more like peering into infinity as it passed by. Eleven minutes of constant energy, and I was never bored. Scientists argue, Horses ride across a battlefield, over and over again; directions change, nausea and confusion inevitably result, and the feeling of impending doom grows exponentially more real. Magnificent cinematic experience.
THE TRIBE- [3.8] Tiffany Schlain wrote and directed this short (about 16 minutes) look at the history of the Jewish people in relation to the history of the Barbie doll. While reveling in the many ways that Jews have been mistreated and persecuted throughout the millennia, Schlain still manages to keep her prideful tribe boasting as entertaining and informative as possible (fakr is the term used to describe the same boasting methods used in classic Arabic poetry). The connection between Jews and Barbie were very interesting and metaphoric, and Schlain did a good job of exploring Barbie’s unnaturally white image and figure, and explaining how Jews feel the need to hide behind images of dominant Barbie culture so as to fit in. Though she makes blanket statements, like the whole history of Jews can be categorized as outsiders, she provides enough informative and graphic punch to make you accept these statements for the time being, but eventually start questioning them once the film finishes. The final slam poem is wonderfully written and performed, but I still got the sense, at the end of all this mess, that all Schlain had accomplished was to boost people’s pride in being Jewish. While the film is an insightful study of one Jew’s perspective on history, I do not know if I can agree with the propagandistic intentionality of the piece.
THANK YOU FOR SMOKING- [3.8] Fun satire about a tobacco lobbyist, excellently played by Aaron Eckhart. The script is witty, the visual jokes work extremely well (Rob Lowe in a kimono in front of a giant glass window), and the characters are actually interesting and sympathetic (esp. the father/son relationship). While the jokes were more scattered than I would like, this defiantly felt like a comedy more than anything. The slight bits of humor, such as Eckhart’s mild changes in facial expressions, worked well, but Adam Brody and Rob Lowe were my absolute favorite parts of the movie, as they nailed the powerful, crazy Hollywood folk. William H. Macy does a fine job, as does Robert Duvall, but those two big names are ultimately forgettable. Maria Bello is fantastic as the alcohol representative in the MOD squad (Merchants of Death). The reenactment of the Dennis Miller show was also handled quite well (i.e., realistically, making it more appealing). The young boy is a fine gifted actor, who plays the straight role very well. Even Katie Holmes isn’t an annoyance, although she still seems way too young to play “mature” adults (I would never believe she were a high class reporter). The moral lessons of this film are a bit lost amid all the sarcasm, but that’s fine by me. Despite all the great parts of this movie, its ultimately a hollow experience, and one that I won’t really carry with me very far.
ANDREI RUBLEV- [2.8] Not much to say. I can’t even think of any scenes to talk about, per se. Its all one big three and a half hour blur in my life. Tarkovsky can suck my dick. I don’t understand why this film starts with a man trying to escape in a balloon. I don’t understand why this film ends with a ten minute montage of close ups of art that Rublev did. Nor why they chose to repeat shots in the already-monotonous montage of the art. I also didn’t understand what the hell the point of this film was. Sigh.
RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD- [3.9] Brains!!!
SLITHER- [3.8] Fun and gross, but not nearly as satisfying as trashier, more true-Troma films. Though this is by James Gunn, the same writer as the Dawn of the Dead remake and Tromio and Juliet, this feels more like a bid for Hollywood than straight-to-video glory. Which is fine, as the effects are still done old school (no CGI shit), making the gore and guts and mutilation all the more satisfying. The acting is nicely done, and the main story of a wife’s love for Bill, her older, uglier, and now alien-infested husband, is pretty interesting and at least successfully carried though to the finish of the picture. The suspense is a little thin, the laughs are pretty frequent, and the chaos feels appropriate. The highlights include the alien insect slithering inside the girl’s mouth in the bathtub, enabling her to see into the mind and memory of the creature, and the scene of the bloated bitch in the shed exploding. The finale is great, though somehow not as satisfying as it should have been. The final moments feel like an homage to The Birds, except instead of wandering into a field of murderous birds, it’s a field of an entire town left dead and mutilated. Great! My only complaint is that this film could be even MORE ridiculous and campy. Though the relationship between the main couple was interesting and well played, it seemed out of place and unnecessary at times, and failed to move the plot forward. Still, a welcome return of the silly gory horror that knows what it wants.
AFTER HOURS- [3.7] Bizarre. The whole time I couldn’t help but think, “Scorsese made this?” Mr. Raging Bull Taxi Driver Goodfellas Casino Aviator Last Temptation of Christ King of Comedy? Hmm. Okay, maybe I can see it. A little bit. The bizarre, hallucinatory film acts as an insomniac’s living nightmare, as Griffin Dunne delivers a solid, wonderfully three-dimensional performance as Paul Hackett, the man who just wants to Wake Up…errr, get home. Rosanna Arquette is the impetus that drives him out of his house one night, to go on a date at her apartment and hopefully get a little ass. While she’s not at home, Linda Fiorentino is, and he is forced to help this artist with her plaster-of-paris statue. Soon, he becomes turned off but Rosanna’s craziness and the possibility that she is a burn victim, and he scrams. Later he finds her dead, but not before losing his last twenty dollars out of a taxi window, leaving him stranded with no way to go home. He runs into Teri Garr in a bar, who develops an unhealthy crush on him, he gets mistaken for a cat burglar, gets hooked up with Catherine O’Hara as a wacko ice cream dealer, and is eventually hauled away by Cheech and Chong, who mistake his plastered body for a real statue, and he accidentally gets dropped outside of his office, that he left the night before. Wonderfully surreal, subtle and funny film, even if its plot was barely there. I might like this better knowing what its about, because going in expecting a Scorsese film will surely lead to disappointment. This is a film that must be watched at night to be appreciated. Oh, and Scorsese is great in his small cameo as a spotlight operator at the punk club.
SOMETHING WILD- [3.4] Enjoyable, though overlong tale of a wild 80’s-style punky chick (Lulu, a wonderfully sexy and energetic Melanie Griffith) who pseudo-kidnaps a more uptight NYC businessman and tries to see how loose he’ll become. The first half of the movie is their fun exploits, from handcuffing him to the bed in a motel, to crashing the car into a different motel’s sign, to buying a used car from John Waters, to introducing the man as Lulu’s husband to her mother and a whole crowd of yuppies at her high school reunion. Then Ray Liotta shows up and things take a nasty dark turn, and all of a sudden it feels like Cape Fear, with some suspense and ridiculous fight scenes. Fortunately, Jonathan Demme doesn’t take everything too somberly, and the second half is filled with some clever gags and twists. Jeff Daniels does a great job at playing the straight man by not succumbing to stereotypes, but by creating a real, three-dimensional man who is exploring a more repressed side to himself, but never goes off the deep end enough to lose his basic mannered self (this restraint from caracature is a nice change from standard Hollywood fare, which could have easily had Daniels turn into a wild punk himself, completely 180 degrees from his previous life without even a blink of the eye). Though Ray Liotta turns in an awesome performance as the intensely twisted, just-out-on-parole boyfriend, I wasn’t prepared for the story shifting so much in the middle of the second act. Demme did such a good job establishing the light hearted nature of the first half, that I thought for sure the rest of the film would just continue as a road picture, showing the picaresque adventures of these two lovers, with the only real action being the arc of their emotions. The Liotta half is steep in plot, which would have worked if the audience had been set up for that, but it seems to come from left field. Not only does it tonally feel awkward, but the pacing changes drastically, and the film itself loses steam by the last act. The strange fight scene in Daniels’ house is predictable enough, but the final coda of the film, which echoes the film’s opening, is a nice touch.
BRICK- [4.0] Fascinating, fun, if a bit cold subversion of film noir. While there are many praiseworthy aspects to consider—cinematography, acting—the script is the standout achievement. Brilliantly written, the dialogue is structured like old Bogart pics, but without standard clichés. Instead, Rian Johnson has created his own linguistic universe, where phrases are inspired by American vernacular, but are also significantly different, seeming far “cooler” than even modern hip-talk. While I can understand many viewer’s complaints that the actors’ snappy delivery makes much of their dialogue unclear, I think this adds to the signature tone of this film. While seemingly played out in the real world (i.e. a San Clemente high school on the weekend), the variant acting, speaking, and visual motifs charge this film with a foreign energy that takes a while to sink into. The muted blue tones work extremely well; if this film had been shot in black and white in order to heighten its nourish-ness, it would have failed because it would seem too derivative and the close parody/homage to those films would be overly apparent. By coming up with a specific color scheme, as well as modern cinematographic approaches (the tight shot of the car whizzing by Levitt’s hand, the whoosh of the camera as a character is punched out), the viewer never feels like the director is simply channeling Dashel Hammond. This is a singular vision, with teenage life brilliantly portrayed as a microcosm of American life. Levitt again astonishes with his intense but ambivalent protagonist. Like MYSTERIOUS SKIN, the audience can’t feel real sympathy for the character, but we understand his essence, like the essence of James Dean or Brando: impenetrable. Yet, it is that lack of sympathy and connection that makes this film so cold and ineffective. The Noir genre has a structure of romance and intrigue, which this film plays with wonderfully and humorously, yet, there is a sense that its not entirely genuine. That the film is too cute for its own good. Bogart and Bacall had some sort of chemistry in their noirs, but Levitt offers little besides unrequited love and angst. Somehow, this doesn’t play, and maybe it shouldn’t. But while watching the film, the audience cares only about the clues to solve the case; the characters mean nothing. Live, die, or never to be seen again, characters are brilliantly written, but in the end they are just constructions that never cease being concepts.
THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE- [3.8] Argento’s first film has a fantastically memorable opening, but it gets steadily less interesting from there. A man gets caught inside a glass entranceway and is forced to watch a woman being murdered. Fortunately, the woman lives, but the man is accused of the crime, since he is the only witness. Investigating further, the man is stalked and almost killed by a Chinese man until he narrowly escapes, in a very tense and entertaining sequence. Also, there is a painting of a man stabbing a woman’s vagina, that was supposedly bought by the first victim of the serial killer, and the American man gets a copy to hang on his wall and obsess over. Although the American is eventually cleared of suspicion, he refuses to leave Italy because he feels as if he is on the verge of solving the case. Then there’s a mildly suspenseful scene where the man’s girlfriend is trapped in her apartment, as the killer hacks away at the door. The girl tries to leave, but all her means are cut off. The girl screams her head off, in typical scream queen fashion, but the killer is too methodical to ever seem really threatening. Another great scene is when the American goes out in the countryside to find the reclusive artist of the graphic painting, and the man ends up being a crazed Russian who eats cats (and which the American unexpectedly chows down on). The bird with the crystal plumage is mentioned once in the movie, and is the source of the scratching on the tape recording of the killer’s voice. Why is it the name of the movie? Probably cuz it sounds cool. The real ending is pretty damn cool, even if the killer is predictably revealed, and even if the killer says nothing at the end, but merely repeats the same high pitched insane laugh over and over. And instead of a grand finale fight, the killer is easily apprehended by the police, and the explanation for the killer’s crimes is revealed (even if it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. And though the lesbian angle isn’t played up—the antique owner mentions that the first victim was a lesbian—it could very well help explain a whole lot, even Argento’s subversive gender themes). I think I’ve learned with this film to give up all hope in understanding the motivations in giallo films, and just go with it. Fun, but not as mindblowing as SUSPIRIA.
THE DEAD ARE ALIVE- [3.9] Not nearly as slick or memorable as an Argento film, but oddly more fun. The acting (and the dubbing) is so atrocious that its hard to imagine that this could have been released as a serious horror film. The plot is beyond convoluted, and the title has almost nothing to do with the story. Etruscan tombs, Freudian mother complexes, young nubile bodies being ground into bloody pulp, and horrific fish-eyed flashbacks. Surprisingly, veteran actor John Marley (Godfather, Faces) plays a pivotal role, but even he sounds as if he can barely deliver the horrible lines given him. The delivery of the dialogue is particularly humorous because it seems as if all the dubbing actors are trying oh so carefully to ar-tic-u-late every syllable of their lines, so they can be understood, making everything sound so wonderfully “off.” The lead actor, Alex Cord, hams it up as a mustachoed, well-built, short-short wearing archaelogist that would put Indiana Jones to shame. He is clearly a pimped out 70s sex machine, but there’s one problem…he’s an alcoholic with amnesia! He has forgotten how he almost killed his old girlfriend years ago in New York (and we see his shrieking reaction in an unexpected flashback, one of the funniest moments in the film, leaving me laughing for long afterwards). Although there are hints that this will be a Zombie film (like the later Fulci Italian ones), it turns out to be a red herring, as the Etruscan tomb has NOTHING to do with the murders. It just happens to be there. The gay dance instructor is wonderfully hammy and flamboyant, rainbow shirt and all, but again, his role in the whole episode is lost on me. The actual killer confesses, reveals why he did everything, but I still don’t understand, except he wanted revenge on his father, John Marley, for beating up his mother when she was shacked up with the chorus boy. But this turned into typical Jack the Ripper-type anger, “all women are whores” so he must do away with all the vaginas in the world. Clichéd excuse, and it makes no real sense, but whatever. This was a charming 70s nostalgic giallo with some suspense, humor, and most of all, entertainment. |
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[Dec. 12th, 2005|12:03 am] |
SALO, OR THE 120 DAYS OF SODOM- [3.7] Perhaps it’s a bad sign that I wasn’t extremely shocked at the events in this film, which is purported to be one of the most disgusting, sadistic movies ever made. But, come on. I watch porn. Nothing special here. Ha. Well, basically a group of male fascist leaders abduct 8 young girls and 8 young boys to be their sexual playthings. The women participate, but only in a motherly way, telling the men erotic stories of how their teachers raped them when they were young children, and so forth. Some horrid scenes: a boy trips a servant girl, who falls onto broken glass, the boy rapes the girl while she lays on the glass, and then a man squats on all fours next to her and demands the boy to fuck him; a girl pees on a man’s face; burning of nipples; cutting off tongue; gouging out eyes; a girl eats a piece of bread with nails in it and her mouth gushes out blood; the children are put on leashes and fed like animals; a banquet where everyone eats shit (yes, actual poo). In fact, I was quite amused by the fascist men’s preoccupation with the holy orifice of the asshole and the delicacy of shit. Maybe its an Italian thing, but these men kept professing over and over again how much better they preferred the butt to the vagina (and even the straight men seemed to have a proclivity towards the young boys). And, when it came to eating shit, the men had strict instructions on how the children should diet in order to provide the best consistency of shit. The final destructive scene of the trespassers, with the fascists looking on was hellish, and of course, metaphoric for how the viewer of the film has been watching (and by implication, condoning) the horrible acts in the film. The message of the film is incredibly heavy handed, but whatever. It was Passolini’s dying film. Its crude, pretentious, horrific, and, though it doesn’t live up to its reputation, quite enjoyable.
BARRY LYNDON- [4.3] Very restrained, sterile, and beautiful, this is almost a complete turn-around from Kubrick’s previous film, A CLOCKWORK ORANGE. This is also the work that is known for using almost no artificial lighting, and filming all night sequences only by candlelight (using special lenses developed for NASA; the widest aperture in cinema history, f .7). The frames are perfectly ordered, with many of the characters positioned as statuesque, giving many of the shots a ‘still life’ or painterly aspect. This works extremely well to invoke the stiff, unemotional, regimental behavior depicted. The score is exceptional, an achingly somber, sometimes airy and bright, classical piece that sets a doomed tone to the story of Redmond Barry. Ryan O’Neal gives an incredible performance, even though much of it has to be so subtle as to be only a certain emoting, for Barry had to keep his real emotions in check behind the façade of a nobleman. The strict adherence to rules, seen in the controlled violence of the duel (and there are many in this film). The climactic duel between Barry and his stepson Lord Bullington is wonderfully edited, with long pauses, and slow, calculated movements that heighten the suspense (when Lord Bullington misfires into the ground and is instructed that it will count for his shot, and now Barry must fire his pistol, I was completely enraptured). Barry’s deceptive nature and his suppressed cruelty work well to enhance the image of the nobleman and the gap that existed between the rich and poor, which Kubrick’s epilogue claims is no longer valid, “Everyone is equal now.” Perhaps this is a sarcastic dig at the notion that since there is no longer a royalty, equality reigns. Perhaps it is saying that the rich and poor have always been the same, cruel creatures, but no longer have their nobility to hide behind. This is a long, long film, but the beauty of the cinematography, costumes, and acting make it a wonderfully sumptuous experience.
CHAPPAQUA- [3.6] Odd, surrealistic drug film from 1966, made by Conrad Rooks based on his own experiences of addiction and the French clinic he checked himself into to get better. What is so remarkable about this proto-beatnik film is the cast, which includes William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Ravi Shankar, and Jean-Louis Barrault (who was incredible as Baptiste the mime in the classic CHILDREN OF PARADISE). The film very skillfully intercuts Black and White and color footage, most of which was beautifully shot by Robert Frank. A lot of the BW photography is extremely high contrast, leading to a cold, mysterious, and avant-garde feeling. Several movie marquees show up in the beginning segments, interesting for the assortment of movies out, “Raiders,” “Dead Ringers,” “Juliet of the Spirits,” “Vice Girls,” and “Olgas White Slaves.” From high art to Hollywood to trashy exploitation. The film is visually hallucinatory, especially in the beautiful sequence where the horrifying doctor is about to inject Conrad with a needle, the camera pulls out, and a figure skater skates by: they are on a skating rink. “What kind of logic can you have at 18? My logic was the logic of American movies, motorcycles, speed, 42nd St.” This film gives great insight into the beat and drug mentality of the time. Worth a look.
JURASSIC PARK- [4.1] This is a Spielberg classic, but I still don’t see it as achieving the level of greatness as his masterpiece, JAWS. Jurassic Park is technically far superior; while the score is not better, it is more polished and used very effectively; the star power is greater here, as, I would argue, is much of the acting; the special effects are phenomenal (umm, dinosaurs!!); the action is more pulsing and the danger more deadly. Yet, with all of this, perhaps because of all of this, the movie lacks the heart and soul that seemed to be the key to JAWS. JAWS had all of the energy and charisma of an up and coming director, who wanted to prove himself. JURASSIC PARK…well, it’s a whole lot of fun, but it just leaves me feeling a bit empty when I’m finished watching it. JAWS was more suspense, JURASSIC PARK was more surprise, which may explain why I just didn’t enjoy it as much. There are several amazing scenes, and of course the film has Jeff Goldbloom and Laura Dern. Drool. And, oddly enough, Spielberg does seem to end the movie at the correct time, for a change.
SOMETHING WEIRD- [3.8] Wow. First, I was surprised by the higher budget, competent acting, and fairly understandable plot of this Hershel Gordon Lewis non-masterpiece. The first few minutes seemed like every other trashy exploitation fare, as in boring and confusing. But once the “story” started (the man gets electrocuted and discovers he has psychic powers), I was more or less hooked. A witch comes to see him and let me tell you, this ‘witch’ gives a hilariously pathetic performance, all the more funny for how convinced she seems to be of her ridiculous gestures and ‘character voice.’ The makeup as well is pretty atrocious. The psychic is hired to solve a series of brutal murders on women, which seemed to me to be just like a mainstream cop thriller film, but one I couldn’t remember clearly (of course, I don’t think a witch was involved in that one). The man takes LSD to make him ‘see’ better, and the trip scene is ridiculous; I don’t think the director even knew what LSD was supposed to be like at all. Also of note is the scene in which a blanket attacks a sleeping cop. Weird? Absolutely. Fun? Yes again.
ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW- [3.3] Tepid love story with characters that I really don’t care about, and a leading lady/director who’s quirkiness seems more weirdly offputting than charming. Miranda July has be blasted by many critics as being a rip off artist, and I was very surprised to see just how close many of the storylines paralleled those in Todd Solondz’s HAPPINESS: the pedophile, the young kid playing with ‘sex’ way before he really knows what it is, lesbians, old people in love, and awkwardness in general. There were some amusing scenes, most notably when the young boy proposes, “lets poop back and forth,” which he subsequently explains. I had a problem with the young girls’ story, with the older pedophilic man. First, I did not at all buy into his straightforward hitting on the girls, and the perverted messages he left for them: it was completely unconvincing and not even that amusing. Second, I was always bothered when the girls themselves were onscreen, because their behavior and their dialogue always seemed wrong in relation to what they looked like and how they dressed; maybe this is good, maybe this is July’s statement on appearances and underlying sexuality everywhere; I’ll giver her the benefit of the doubt. Otherwise, I really didn’t care for the older man who July falls for, and never understand WHY she falls for him anyway? Things aren’t really given enough motivation in this film. Lastly, I was bothered by the scene where the horny art director is waiting for her internet lover and the young kid shows up. I wasn’t bothered by the content, but the actions of the woman (to kiss the boy and walk off) just seemed stupid to me. At least the music wasn’t of the GARDEN STATE variety. Overall, eh.
GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK- [4.0] Good film about the McCarthy Era and CBS’ Edward R. Murrow’s fight against the Communist witch hunt. The most startling thing for me, besides David Stratheirn’s very solid performance (tho it didn’t blow me away as much as I expected from the trailers), was the exceptional integration of archival footage. I love the blend of documentary and fiction, especially when actual footage can be used (such as Oliver Stone’s intoxicated use of it in many of his films). The rest of the actors are competent, but I never got to know anybody privately, and thus really never felt emotions for anybody, least of all Murrow, who came off as one-dimensional and infallibly heroic. I especially got the impression that Patricia Clarkson and Robert Downey Jr. were supposed to be the real ‘human’ characters of the piece, but I never quite understood their situation: was it just that they were married and couldn’t let their bosses find out, or were they commies (or were we, as an audience, supposed to make that assumption and then go “oooh” once it was revealed they weren’t?). I never got that, nor did I really care. But, good job in creating suspense and excitement in the small span of the CBS studio space, with one or two scenes taking place elsewhere. The ending is a good ‘hoorah,’ we won the battle, but what about the war?-type of a spiritism. Liberals walk away feeling good, with the idea that they should now have the upper hand in the current reactionary moralism and free speech-haters…but I think the movie seals its own fate by proclaiming the damnation of a world that uses the new visual medium as simply an entertainment tool. Hmm…its too bad we didn’t head his advice. [ on a side note, this is the first film from Participant Productions, which is out to make socially conscious films; others are North Country, and Syriana, which looks really good from the preview]
EDWARD II- [3.8] Elegant, surreal, but ultimately problematic retelling of the Christopher Marlow play by gay British auteur Derek Jarman. The film quaintly mixes the old English setting with modern flourishes, mostly clothing and electronics. The king and other royalty wear business suits, and the sets are scant and bare, but this helps lend a theatrical air to the frame, and focuses attention on single objects in a room, such as a pool, throne, or dining table. The acting is very good, with Tilda Swinton and Andrew Tiernan as Gaviston being my favorites. The character of Edward was played decently, if unremarkably. What bothered me most, initially, was the rather flimsy excuses for everyone’s loathing of the king’s lover Gaviston. Okay, he was low class and the king bestowed unworthy titles on him; yes the former king had had him banished; yes Gaviston had a priest put to death. Perhaps it was fear that his lover had too much power over the king, or perhaps they simply wanted to exert their authority over the throne, but the royals were represented as an uncaring, ruthless, conservative, Thatcherite crowd. Frankly, besides his odd good looks, I can’t find anything remarkable about Gaviston. He was quite cruel and quite eccentric. One of the most memorable images is him crouching naked on the throne, clicking weird sounds from his mouth to the disdain of Mortimer, head of the army. There was something very Fassbinder about the sexuality, very Querelle-ish, and it both attracted and repelled me. I may have been content to leave the overblown sexual imagery alone, considering it merely a part of the visual fabric, except for the jarring, painfully preachy scene with protesters carrying signs saying “Keep your laws off of our bodies” and other pro-gay slogans. The protesters then get in a violent clash with armed police. It doesn’t belong in the story, and is especially distracting and points a glaring finger immediately at Jarman’s true intentions. I would much rather have had a tale of Edward II that served as a parable for modern times, then Edward II as an example in Jarman’s bitter tirade for an end to homophobia. I also thing Jarman’s preoccupation with this theme led him to overly simplify the characters. The queen seemed like a genuine victim to me, and I felt much pity for her early in the film. But Jarman quickly turns her into a vengeful, power hungry wench. Likewise, Edward is merely the poor victim of uncontrollable love and very bad advice. Rubbish. So much more could have been done with these personalities to really bring the whole story to some complexity of life, but that wasn’t what Jarman wanted. He wanted to tell the tale of how repressive societies try to quell gay love, and the cost of that loss. Nonetheless, the imagery was fantastic, especially when the queen becomes a vampire in front of her cross-dressing young son, or the shot of the king’s ring lying on the ground, but when his son reaches down to pick up the ring, we see that the ring is bigger than the boy’s head (ah, a clever visual illusion). Annie Lenox sings a very charming song in the middle of the whole thing as well. There were some wonderful lines, and I’d love to read the original play to see how much of it was Marlow and how much Jarman added. “Why do you love him that the world hates so?”
RIVER’S EDGE- [3.7] A somewhat muddled attempt to tell a story about disaffected youth. Keanu Reaves is in this, but forget him. He’s so bland that you can’t even laugh at him as a caricature. Crispin Glover on the other hand.... He and Dennis Hopper stole the show for me. Hopper was on a roll when he made this film, the same time as BLUE VELVET, HOOSIERS, and TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE II. Hopper is a crazy madman, but a very sympathetic, tragic one. Glover is amazingly hilarious considering how annoying his character could be. But Glover plays his over-exaggerated character so straight, saying all of his ridiculous dialogue with such deadpan sincerity that you can’t help but feel good laughing at him. I think Keanu MUST have stolen the whole stoner/surfer speech pattern and behavior from Glover, cuz Glover does it to the max in this flick. The story premise is interesting, sort of THE TROUBLE WITH HARRY with a pessimistic 80s twist. However, the narrative gets muddled somewhere along the way, and the attempt at profoundness stumbles hard. I really did not like the killer, John, nor did I like the misguided 10 year old, Keanu’s brother. The situations and some of the symbolism was a little to trite and obvious, and the pacing/editing seemed really off. On the other hand, the strange pace that the editing gives does have the startling affect of making the viewer feel really apathetic to the whole film. I don’t care what happens to any of the characters. I would have been fine with anyone dying (save Hopper and Glover). The message of emotionless, uncaring Reagan youth is heavy handed and screamed loudly by the Teacher himself, just so some of the lazy, apathetic youth watching the picture will get the idea. Ultimately, it’s a fairly empty film with some great performances.
THE HARD ROAD- [3.6] Typical drug exploitation picture, except a lot more fun because it takes place in the late 60s with the hippy hallucinogenic culture. First Pam gets an abortion, then, not learning her lesson, she goes out with a musician to a ‘wild’ party and smokes dope for the first time. She hears electronic guitar and fuzz, the camera goes super wide angle, she wanders around the party, she wanders the street, looks into a mirror, typical confused ‘high’ behavior I guess. And she has more unprotected sex, of course. Things get worse, and when Pam snorts some ‘crystal,’ along with other things, there is rapid cutting, weird distorted sounds. But there was a really cool looking, but extremely simple to do shot, with a screaming heroin addict running through a blue-lit tunnel, the camera attached to the back of a car moving ahead of him. The acting is surprisingly really good in some spots, most notably by Pam. However, others, like Pam’s mother, come off as ridiculous caricatures of a spoof, hamming it up (with an amazingly preposterous outfit) with vocal inflections of the worst order. This same inconsistency in quality is also evident in the dialogue and situations: really good in the party scene (slow and complex even), but then horribly contrived and exaggerated in others (a crazed junky beats up a weak businessman for kicks). My main problem was the incoherent and often tangential narrative. Long, disruptive sequences where a doctor talks about the harmful effects of drugs on the body, while also going over ‘the birds and the bees’ for curious audience members. There is a different Narrator for scientific/educational footage, and it looks like it may be spliced from another source. Then, halfway through the film, we are introduced to a junky that Pam falls for, and end up following him for about 15 minutes, as he scores more heroin, gets busted, goes to jail, and goes through withdrawals. Then, just to tie things ups with Pam, we go back to her, sitting depressed, taking LSD, tripping out, and then running to the airport where she gets hit by a car. The end. Ha. I enjoyed much of this movie. Many parts were really slow and contrived, but a lot of it had a surprising amount of creativity and energy. I certainly had more fun than Pam did.
HUSBANDS- [3.6] Not nearly as good as the hype, this was supposed to be Casavettes’ underrated masterpiece, and…its not. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t come close to the heartache and rawness of A WOMAN UNDER THE INFLUENCE. It doesn’t breach the tension and awkwardness of THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE, and it certainly doesn’t have the heart of MINNIE AND MOSKOWITZ or LOVE STREAMS. It has elements of all of these, but it doesn’t seem to pull it off just right. The acting is so-so, and I will attribute this mostly to the script, which has some wonderful Casavettes moments, but also drops into heart-on-your-sleeve dialogue, and rambling, philosophical monologues that seem unnatural and out of place. This is a very male-oriented story and yet I never really felt connected to any of the characters. It seems like John associates more with the women, so when he has a story of just men, it comes off as foreign and distanced. The dinner table scene, in which the three friends force everyone at the table to sing a song in remembrance of their dead friend, is very strange and very long (perhaps ten minutes) and I really don’t see the point of it, other than it showing us how unlikable these three men are. The vomiting scene could have been brilliant, but I think it was ruined by the dialogue, in which Peter Falk has to spell out why he wants to be alone (cause he doesn’t want anyone to see him vomiting) and spells out his feelings and frustrations. Then the trip to London…I dunno. A lot of the action in this film seemed unmotivated (and not in the good, ambiguous Casavettes sense) and the ending was horrid, just stopping as John walked into the house to see his wife. Perhaps it was the home video version (as I read that they chopped off about 8 minutes from the film), but I wonder if that still was the ‘real’ ending. Whichever. At least now I’m done with the Casavettes oeuvre and can look at them all from that ‘auteur’ perspective
THE LAST CLEAN SHIRT- [3.9] (1964) Interesting experiment in which a ten minute scene is played three times, but creating different effects in the viewer. The scene is very simple: a fixed camera in the back seat of a car, looking straight out through the windshield of a convertible. A man and a woman get into the car. The soundtrack has heavy wind, and the woman’s voice is muffled and quiet (as if it were far in the distance). The sound gives the scene a strange feeling, as the woman talks and talks and talks the entire ten minute car trip, as the man just drives. She is speaking what appears to be French [edit: its finish gibberish, apparently], but it is too hard to tell. Whatever she is saying, the audience has no idea what it is, thus we are forced to put our own interpretations onto the scene. Right after it plays once, the scene restarts, but with subtitles. Very quickly, it becomes clear that the text onscreen may not be exactly what she is saying. The scene restarts and the subtitles now take on a much different voice, perhaps the voice in the man’s head. The text describes moments of feeling unconnected, and how its in our nature to feel this way; paradoxically, I think we feel MORE connected to the film by reading those words, which ADD to the film and make us more tuned in to it than the first part, where we are stuck with ‘only’ the image. This film is an experiment in mixed media and how language and images are related. Honestly, I have to admit that this film piqued my interest further and probably jumped several points in the rating due simply to the fact that the credits listed poet Frank O’Hara as the author of the subtitles. Thus, you have two artists from separate backgrounds (O’Hara as poet, Alfred Leslie as film-maker/painter) collaborating on this mixed-media project. So, for further research, I looked online. There is an interesting article [by Olivier Brossard, in Jacket Magazine #23, August 2003…] that examines the nature of this film and its implications in relation to the work of Frank O’Hara. The main question this brings up for me is, should this film be looked at as a film or a poem? Its both, and since we have two different CATEGORIZED methods for dealing with different art forms, what do we do when they are combined? It is a very difficult, interesting notion, and I guess, according to Brossard, it all goes back to the Rennaisance, when art was divided and categorized like the feudal system of the time. But as we strive for a classless, more united society, how do we unite artforms (if we actually feel they should be united). Will they lose their distinctiveness? Should all art forms be considered equal and be looked at in unified ways? What Brossard never mentions, and what I find fascinating, is that this film was lost, after only a few screenings, in a fire that devastated Alfred Leslie’s (the director) apartment. The film was only just reconstructed c.1990. Part of the subtitles wonder, “It’s my zoo/ and I have wonderful plans for it./ I just hope.../ ... I just hope the rain won’t.../ (I just hope the rain won’t.)/ I just hope the rain won’t/ wash it all away/ and we end up with nothing.” The observations on a car/consumer culture and materialism gets totally warped in real life by the fact that the film WAS destroyed and didn’t actually exist for decades. Anyways, this film isn’t listed on IMDB and I am fortunate to have found a copy at Rocket Video. Interesting stuff.
BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN- [4.3] This is a very good film, but one that is very hard to really ‘get’ while watching, and tough to analyze afterwards. This is a love story in which the audience is not treated to very many intimate moments, nor do we see, more than 5 or 6 times, the characters actually interacting in a romantic way. But, that is what is so vital to the story. That is the point of the whole film! Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhal both do superb jobs as manly men cowboys who get to know each other well while they are alone in the wilderness one summer, but, that’s that. They have to go their separate ways afterwards. I believe they could have moved on after that, but their fate was doomed when Jake tracks Heath down after four years. The energy of the anticipation builds, with Heath downing more and more beers, waiting for Jake to show up. When Jake’s truck pulls in, Heath bolts outside and embraces Jake with one of cinema’s best kisses (I am not joking at all). The gushing of emotion out of Heath Ledger (who, up until this time, has been very careful to keep everything in check, talk slowly, squint underneath his big Stetson) is stronger than any of cupid’s arrows, and Jake is clearly taken aback by the kiss, even though it is obvious he wants it so much. The kiss that results is the climax of four years of dreaming ‘what if’ and trying to go on with the standard ‘supposed-to’ life, trying to convince yourself that you are happy. The kiss is the one moment of pure truth in the whole film. It is possibly the one moment when Heath totally lets his guard down and expresses his whole being. Of course, it is this expression of pure love that leads to disaster, as his wife sees them from the doorway and quickly turns away, unable to cry nor comprehend what she had seen. It is a horribly touching moment, for we know that her life can never be the same: her own love has been shattered, her faith betrayed, her values thrown into chaos. Yet, who do we root for as an audience? We don’t know the wife, but can we very well stand to watch her stay at home in misery as her husband is able to finally live his life the way he wished it were? There are no winners in this story, which makes it that much harder to watch. Near the end of the film, Jake chastises Heath for not leaving his wife long ago to go live with him up in the woods; Jake says that it never happened cause Heath never cared enough, that the few times a year they saw each other was enough for Heath, but not for him. Heath slowly turns around, squinting to hold back the tears, and through a clenched, shaking jaw, he tells him how hard its been for him too. There are only a few moments of intimacy in this film because Heath can’t acknowledge them. They only happen a few times a year, and he must try not to think of them, lest he be completely washed away in emotions. Heath tries to think with his head, to be responsible, to stay near his ex-wife and children. Jake thinks with his heart, a way of living that eventually leads to his death. This film is made up of some incredibly moving images and moments; I’ve already mentioned the kiss, but there is also a flashback where Jake has fallen asleep sleeping, and Heath walks behind him and simply holds him. There are those moments when Heath and Jake aren’t engaging in any sexual activity at all, but simply goofing around, rolling on the ground, or just looking at each other. The repression in this movie stops the love from totally seeping out and causing gushes of tears from an audience; but it is just that lack of emotion that Heath has had to stomach all those years. The group I went to see this film with were disappointed, they liked the first half, when it was just the two guys, getting to know each other, but didn’t like when they went into the real world, and other people showed up, and they didn’t express their emotions much. These viewers missed the point. They wanted to see more touching, more intimacy, more hot gay scenes (as did I), but that’s not the story. That would have defeated the whole movie. We are forced to suffer this repeated, guarded relationship for years (and two hours, 15 minutes) with only a scattered handful of romantic moments. Its tough, and it gets to you, in a strange way. I was not wholly involved with the characters (like I was in BEFORE SUNRISE), but I understood them, and I felt like an outsider looking in, and not being able to do anything. Nonetheless, this is a tough, thoughtfully-told love story, and one that I have certainly never seen before. |
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| yuck, finally done. |
[Nov. 21st, 2005|12:26 pm] |
“A Bit Cold and Pointless, Isn’t It?”
The Desensitizing Quality of Art in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange
Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange imagines a world in the not-to-distant future where the peaceful ideals of the hippies have vanished, and the divisions between classes and generations are heightened. The world of A Clockwork Orange is ruled by illusion, and art as a representation of life is shown to be much more desirable than actual reality. Kubrick’s highly crafted, controlled images consistently pair violence with art, and by using several self-reflexive devices, he further stresses the fact that A Clockwork Orange is a piece of art about art and violence. Alex and his droogs “perform” their wanton acts of ultra-violence for the audience as much as for themselves. Scenes of brutality are stylishly constructed and employ techniques such as rapid cutting, slow motion, and time-lapse to make the actions seem less real and more artful. Kubrick also presents violence as varying forms of art, such as theater, dance, and music, to demonstrate how art can be used as a weapon. In this way, the film warns against the adoption of art as life, where “the colors of the real world only seem really real when you vidy them on the screen.” Alex’s obsessive worship of Beethoven’s music is analogous to any overt preoccupation with art, and Kubrick warns that art can eventually desensitize a person to reality. The Ludovico Treatment represents Alex’s forced re-sensitizing to life, causing him and the viewer to see violence in a more realistic manner, as well as ironically transforming Beethoven’s music into a weapon. Reality is a difficult subject to face, however, and the film ends with a beautifully surrealistic image of two people having sex in the snow, questioning the extent to which the visual power of art can overshadow the reality of its content.
The film opens with a still shot of Alex staring directly into the camera, immediately breaking cinema’s “fourth wall” and luridly inviting the viewer to stare back at him. After a few seconds, the camera slowly pulls back to reveal more and more of the tableaux: the droogs sit in their chairs, legs propped on tables made in the form of nude women, while psychedelic lettering on the wall spells out the oddly named drinks in the Kerova milk bar. The opening shot reveals much about the stance the film takes in regards to art. The mannequin tables capture the images of sexually contorted women, laying the groundwork for the theme of art as an enslaver of life. In the same way that women have been stripped of their flesh and blood and turned into sleek utilitarian art, the droogs are so carefully posed and unmoving that they could very well be mistaken for statues. Besides the sole gesture of Alex’s graceful sipping of his milk, the shot lacks action, forcing the viewer to look upon this scene as a painting or still photograph. In a way, Kubrick presents Alex’s droogs not as living beings, but as poised, immobile art.
Alex wears a black bowler hat, a distinctly old-fashioned clothing item that harks back to the classic comedy team of Laurel and Hardy, both of whom wore nearly identical bowler hats. The codpiece is another antiquated piece of clothing, primarily used in 15th and 16th century European fashions to preserve modesty by covering a gentleman’s genitals within his trousers. Intentionally subverting its original intent, the droogs wear the codpiece for varying effects: to emphasize and expand the crotch region to give the illusion of a ridiculously large phallus, to mock the past by being brazenly worn on the outside of their clothing during their violently sexual escapades, and to protect the droogs’ most prized bodily part (as the Cat Woman might say, the codpiece protects their “very important work of art”). Additionally, their uniform consists of solely black and white clothing, resembling the outfits an audience is accustomed to seeing in earlier Black and White films. Color film had only begun to be commonly used in movies in the previous decade, so the choice to dress the droogs up in simple black and white is the first in many references to classic Hollywood films. Wearing clothing that evokes classic filmic images allow the droogs to hide their violent behavior behind the façade of older art. Kubrick uses old art, including outdated fashions, Beethoven music, and references to classic Hollywood, as well as newer pop art objects to show how all art, through various histories and classes, present violence and sex in false, stylized ways.
The film’s first scene of violence occurs when Alex and his droogs stumble upon an old haggard man sitting alone in the tunnel. The old man sings a theatrical rendition of a classic Irish song, “Sweet Molly Malone.” When the man stops singing, the droogs applaud veraciously in mock approval, while Alex’s voiceover announces, “One thing I could never stand was to see a filthy dirty old drunkie howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers, and going blurp, blurp in between, as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking rotten guts.” The violence is provoked not only because the man is a “dirty old drunkie,” but also because Alex is disgusted with the man’s butchered attempt at singing. The man’s “performance” is not good enough and must be punished. The old man’s acting and dialogue are pantomimic and comedic, making his performance of a homeless man more of a caricature than a realistic representation. The man uses an exaggerated accent and tonal inflections to spout his theatrical lines, such as “Can you spare some cotter, me brothers?” and “Oh, go on do me in ya bastard cowards, I don’t want to live anyway, not in a stinking world like this.” The violence that is inflicted on the old man, though brutal, is the first in a series of sadistic performances that depict a theatrical, stylistic violence that avoids showing the more genuine, harsh results of aggression. In this scene, the violence is shown from a distance and not to its completion. The audience never sees just how badly the droogs beat up the old man, for the scene cuts to a shot of a classically styled painting of flowers. As the camera pulls back, the painting is revealed to be the decoration on the proscenium of a stage. The cutting from violence to art strengthens the film’s visual association of those two elements, as does the subsequent scene, depicting an operatic near-rape on the stage.
Alex and his droogs march into frame and provoke a fight using Shakespearean phrases such as “how art thou?” to further solidify that the violent encounter is firmly set in a theatrical context (and, once again, the reference is to an older art, classic theater). The fight sequence, highly choreographed and set to ballet music, seems just as unreal as the Jets and Sharks dance-fighting in West Side Story. Again, the fight is not shown completely through to its completion, and because the viewer is not shown the bloody consequences of the encounter, the violence comes off as performance rather than reality. When the droogs drive off in their car to partake in more ultra-violence, the scene is “fairly obviously photographed in front of a traveling matte screen.” The technique employed uses a back-projected image of the roadside passing by, while the characters in the car pretend to be driving, although they are well-lit by fixed studio lights. This technique is often employed in classic Hollywood films, but its glaring unrealism in A Clockwork Orange is jarring and seems to function self-reflexively by immediately drawing attention to the film’s production. The matte-screen shot is then juxtaposed with a realistic shot taken from the front of the vehicle, showing the car’s headlights moving through the woods. By using both shots taken in the studio and on location for the same car ride, the scene further solidifies the unnatural performative style of the film.
During the storming of the ‘Home,’ “Kubrick has turned the frightening realities of domestic invasion, rape, and assault into an experience akin to that ambivalent form of ‘entertainment.’” When Alex and his droogs invade the Alexander residence, they wear theatrical masks, both to hide their identity and to suggest the nature of the “performance” that they will put on for their victims. Alex begins singing the theme song from the Hollywood musical Singing in the Rain while beating up Mr. Alexander, with Gene Kelly’s dancing being replaced by sadistic kicking. Before raping the woman, Alex dramatically unzips his pants “like a performer taking a bow.” So far, the scene has been shot from an objective viewpoint, but when Alex leans down to Mr. Alexander, the shot suddenly changes to the victim’s point of view. Alex stares directly at the camera and with a smarmy smirk, instructs the viewer, “vidy well little brother, vidy well.” Like the first shot of the film, Alex’s acknowledgement of the audience breaks down the boundary between life and art. An unusual paradox seems to result in which the viewer is both distanced from the violence because of the manner in which it is theatrically staged, but also further engaged with the film because of Alex’s direct appeal to the viewer. Like Alex, the audience may feel their real-life viewing experience being drawn into the art of the film, thus perpetuating the “living life as art” behavior that the film seems to criticize.
The unrealistic depiction of sex and violence continues in two scenes that manipulate time to depersonalize the events. The scene depicting Alex’s ménage à trois with the two “microboppers” he meets in the record store “was shot over twenty-eight minutes by Kubrick but flashes by in forty seconds of such accelerated motion that although all three figures are stark naked and nameless things apparently are going on, one cannot follow the anatomical details for the sheer speed of the orgiastic permutations.” While this scene could have been erotic if filmed at normal speed, Kubrick strips the sex of its inherent sensuality by shooting it in time-lapse and playing it to a sped-up “William Tell Overture.” As an art tool, the camera has the power to subvert reality and, in this instance, takes a scene that could have realistically depicted sex, and turned it into a comedic romp. The scene’s speed removes the perceived reality of the event and replaces it with performance (by the actors and the camera). Interestingly, an opposite camera effect has the same result of distancing the audience and desensitizing them to the actions depicted in the scenes. When Alex attacks Dim and Georgie, the action plays out in a slow motion, so that the viewer can carefully follow every move. However, like the time-lapsed bedroom scene, this scene’s style overpowers its content, so that the viewer becomes more aware of the slow motion effect than the actual attack.
Art, violence, and sex are most dramatically linked in the film’s turning point, the murder of the Cat Woman. When Alex stands next to the large phallic art piece, the woman snaps at him, “Don’t touch it. It’s a very important work of art.” Little does she realize that the art that she surrounds herself with will be the tool used to kill her. Art takes on the physical manifestation of a weapon, as Alex uses the large phallic statue to ward off the bust of Beethoven that the Cat Woman swings forcefully toward him. Violence is once more depicted as a dance, and Alex revels in the performance of it until he is hit with the heavy bust. Just as Alex delivers the deathblow to the Cat Woman, however, Kubrick refrains from an accurate depiction of the large penis’s collision with her skull, instead replacing the “real” image of death with a few quick shots of art. The blood-red painting of an open mouth screaming is meant to mimic the Cat Woman’s actual reaction upon being struck. So, art takes the place of life, and because the Cat Woman’s death is not truly shown, the film avoids confronting the reality of bloodshed. Like in earlier scenes, violence is a tease, and the audience never sees Mrs. Alexander’s rape nor the two deaths in the film: the Cat Woman and Mrs. Alexander. The film’s artistic styling obstructs any portrayal of true brutality, and thus implicates art in the masking of violence.
In the scene where Alex is being given the Ludovico Treatment, he becomes a reflection of the film’s audience, passively watching the screen and absorbing the images he sees. He notes that the first film shown looks like “a very good professional piece of cine, like it was done in Hollywood. The sounds were real horroshow, you could slooshy the screams and moans very realistic. And you could even get the heavy breathing and panting of the tolchocking malchicks at the same time.” Alex praises the realism of the film and his giddy, smiling face suggests that he enjoys the representations of sex and violence as much as the “real” sex and violence in which he engages. However, Alex goes on to say, “the colors of the real world only seem really real when you vidy them on the screen.” So, Alex regards the filmic performance as being a more rewarding and accurate depiction of life than reality. Although Alex’s background is never explored in the film, it is possible that Alex is reflective of the baby boomer generation that grew up on a steady diet of television and movies. A popular theory, both then and today, is that juvenile delinquency stems from children’s exposure to an overabundance of violence in the media. Alex is nearly a poster boy for this theory, as his delinquent behavior can be seen as an effort to bring the “really real colors” of the vidy screen to real life by reenacting the disassociated violence he sees on screen. Alex wears a pair of bloody eyeballs on the sleeves of his shirt, a coy reference to the old adage “to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve” (thus, to bring the internal to the external). The eyeballs on his sleeves suggest that Alex is influenced by what he sees, so that all of his sadistic instincts originate from previous visual stimuli similar to the films he is shown as part of the Ludovico cure. To paraphrase Shakespeare, Alex considers all the world to be a stage, and he is an actor who must continually recreate in his life the “reality” that he sees in art.
Alongside filmic influences, Ludwig Van Beethoven, an artist whose work would seem to elicit no connection to physical violence, is also implicated in the dehumanizing of Alex. Alex has an inappropriate obsession with Beethoven’s music, so that the music becomes far more valuable and important of an experience than anything in reality. When Alex returns home from a night of ultra-violence, he pops in a Beethoven tape and sits immobile on his bed, his mind enthralled, as if listening to the divine. Alex jubilantly exalts the music: “Oh bliss, bliss and heaven, oh it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a space ship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures.” As the music blares to a crescendo, images of filmed violence from Cat Ballou and One Million Years B.C. are spliced quickly together alongside flashing images of Alex’s face made up as a vampire, with the literal implication being that Alex is a cultural vampire. The images that appear on the screen could very well be from movies that Alex had seen previously. This quick montage indicates that Alex, like a vampire, consumes these commercially artistic representations of cruelty, which desensitize him to actual violence and leave him as a walking corpse, guiltlessly inflicting the sadism to which he is exposed onto others.
Also while Beethoven’s music plays, the camera tilts down from a drawing of a naked girl with her legs behind her head to a porcelain statue of four nude Jesuses linked together. The quadruple representations of Christ are excessive, and given their place in the room of the decidedly non-Christian Alex, they effectively strip the historical Christ of all value, turning him into a piece of pop art. The camera then proceeds to dissect the statues through a rapid series of close-ups of select body parts timed to the swelling music. The repeated flashings of the same disconnected shots of hands, feet, arms, and faces further devalue the historical Christ, but also succeed in devaluing his image as art. Christ is taken out of the context of his life and transformed into art, and then other art forms (music and film) deconstruct the representations of Christ further, so that the images lose much of their connection to the real violence associated with Christ’s crucifixion. The audience is made very aware of the camera’s presence through the rapid cutting, so that the camera proves itself to be an artful tool that can easily slice up life and art and turn them into meaningless, disembodied, and yet beautiful images.
The Ludovico Treatment forcibly re-sensitizes Alex to violence, so that he becomes horribly ill when confronted with deviant behavior. Alex can no longer live his life as a performance, and, ironically, is now repelled by the very art that he loved the most: Beethoven’s music. At this point, Kubrick stops employing artful direction to hide the violence, instead showing a frighteningly long, real-time portrayal of Alex being nearly drowned by his old companions, droogs-cum-policemen Dim and Georgie. Unlike other scenes in which the performance of the violence is emphasized, this scene provides no escape from the brutality, and attempts to display it as realistically as possible with a single fixed shot. For the first time, the camera does not cut away from the brutality, but holds on it, with the only stylistic flourishing being the almost overbearing pounding of the soundtrack. Likewise, when Alex is locked upstairs and tortured by the now not-so-harmonious sounds of Ludwig Van, the role of the victim has been reversed, and Mr. Alexander inflicts Alex’s punishment mercilessly by using art as a weapon. Alex’s programming will not allow him to hide any longer behind his obsession with Beethoven, and he is now forced to near-suicide because of his inappropriate substitution of art for life. In another ironic reversal, Mr. Alexander and his cronies are shown to be the film’s new droogs. In a shot that reflects the film’s opening, the camera pulls back from a still Mr. Alexander staring at the viewer to reveal the other conspirators posed, staring off in different directions. Though they can hear Alex’ agonizing shrieks, they remain fixed in the perfectly framed composition and, in effect, become a work of art themselves, while Julian, Mr. Alexander’s bodyguard, examines a painting on the wall. Like the droogs, these conspirators use performance and art as barriers from real-life suffering.
A Clockwork Orange’s ending proves problematic in that various reading strategies can be applied to it, with several opposing “messages” drawn from it. The ending shot shows a young naked couple having sex in the snow in slow motion, as an audience of Victorian-dressed, distinguished adults looks on and applauds. Alex’s voiceover proclaims the film’s final thought, “I was cured all right,” before cutting immediately to the credits, which flash over brightly colored backgrounds as the soundtrack gaily plays “Singing in the Rain.” This playful ending suggests that the power of the image triumphs over reality, implying that the film has been a stylistic exploration of violence and ultimately should not be looked at as representing reality. If the film tells the viewer that art desensitizes them to reality, then is A Clockwork Orange just another desensitizing piece of art? Perhaps the film’s constant acknowledgement of the audience is intended to challenge them to look beyond the frame and see the illusion of art’s performative aggression. Kubrick seems to say that while art does not truly represent violence, neither does it accurately represent anything else. Although Kubrick criticizes what he deems to be a misreading of art, he never reveals how an audience should correctly interpret it. When Alex spies two divotchkas luridly licking Popsicles in the record store, he turns to one of them and asks, “bit cold and pointless, isn’t it my lovely?” The same question could also be asked of the music the girls are going to buy, or even of art in general. |
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| FROM CASTLE TO SPIELBERG |
[Nov. 8th, 2005|03:08 am] |
STRAIGHT-JACKET- [3.7] Joan Crawford is marvelous in this William Castle film that depicts a woman who, after being locked in an asylum for 20 years for the axe-murder of her husband and his lover, is released and sent to live with her daughter. Things aren’t right, as the perky daughter is about to get married and Joan seems to be slipping out of sanity. The story is a conventional suspense type, except for the moments where Joan bursts into exaggerated, hammy acting that makes the whole thing more funny and fascinating. I knew something was up when I saw that this film was written by Robert Block, who also wrote the PSYCHO novel. And trust me, when this film ends, you will be saying, “it’s just like PSYCHO” (and there is even a scene where a woman tears back a shower curtain, just like in…). Hell, the ending is just like SCOOBY DOO, Joan pulls off the killer’s mask and its…shock of all shocks!! Her daughter!! Hilarity ensues.
RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK- [3.8] This film has solidified the fact for me: Steven Spielberg cannot properly end a movie. Like Close Encounters, Catch Me if You Can, and possibly Minority Report, this movie’s “climax” lasts for nearly 30 or 40 minutes. Every time you think the thing will end, more and more happens, finally ending with 2 epilogues (the last of which, interestingly, is a direct homage to the final scene of CITIZEN KANE). This film is fun…and that’s about it. There is a major lack of story development, and for this I blame Spielberg, who pushed Lawrence Kasden to cut back on character in favor of action. Typical. While many scenes are wonderfully done, there is only so much adventure I can take, especially this pastiche kind. The film doesn’t take itself seriously, and this makes for great humor, but it also deflates my interest, and my boredom sets in. Again, the problem I have is that the climax of this film begins when Indiana finds the Ark…but then continues on through his imprisonment, his escape, his battle to steal the Ark, the voyage on the boat (which really feels like a proper epilogue), and then the Nazis return, Indiana battles them again, gets captured, the Ark is opened and finally the film ends, with an epilogue of Indiana talking to the Feds and the Ark being put away in a tomb with other Top Secret boxes. I may have been able to accept this as clever, in that it divides up the film into short segments, reminiscent of the old action serials, where several climaxes were possible, because a story kept continuing. But, this problem occurs in several Spielberg productions, so I know it is his editing problem as opposed to a specific stylistic choice. Oh well. Still, this film doesn’t deserve the highest of high praises it gets (#20 on IMDB’s top films??).
AMERICAN BEAUTY- [4.3]
BARB WIRE- [3.7]
JEZEBEL- [3.9] How prescient. New Orleans is struck by yellow fever, so the rich plantation owners seclude themselves in their rich homes in their safe parish, while sending the poor off to die alone on an island, so that they don’t infect the rest of the population. Sounds kinda like… Well, anyways, that’s not the MAIN story, but a wonderful backstory that seems like an omen from the past (interestingly, the movie is from the 1930’s, but the story takes place in the 1850’s. About 70 years between those two and about 70 years between the 30’s and today…). Anyways, I went to see this on account of Bette Davis, and boy did she deserve her second Oscar for this!! I’ve never seen Davis this young, and it was hard for me to get that old, haggard diva out of my head. This Davis is young, sharp as a tack, with big, beautiful eyes, and a flowery voice. Only occasionally could I find the signs of the Davis I knew: the sagging glacier eyes, husky, disparaging voice. I now see why Davis was such a star in the first place. Her role as the young Southern girl who doesn’t play by the old South’s rules is very memorable. Wyler does a good job exploring the nature of rules in society: By flouting the boundaries of taste, Davis loses her lover and, in vengeance, starts a chain reaction of destruction, leading to at least one death. And yet, it is ALSO the man who plays by these old rules who, because he can not turn down the customary duel, as ridiculous as Davis believes it to be, because the South’s culture is integral to these people’s identities. So, because he must follow these strict societal rules, the man duels and dies. The end, which redeems Davis by placing her in a martyr role, is satisfactory, but Davis’ character seems too complex to just give in and accept her faults. I take a more pessimistic look at the ending: she’s not sacrificing herself in order to save Henry Fonda and his wife; rather, she is still trying to win his heart back. But, that’s the cynic in me. Oh, and the soundtrack was very muddled, so it was difficult to understand and enjoy a lot of dialogue. I don’t know if this was Wyler’s fault or what. He’s still “undecided” on my list of great directors.
BAD GIRLS GO TO HELL- [3.3] Doris Wishman is supposedly the most prolific American female director. Sad, very very sad. Because I would probably say this was true. America has been extremely neglectful of women’s voices in cinema, of all the arts especially. And Wishman…well, she’s a cheapie sexploitation director. Not to demean her films, because we are studying them in an academic setting, and I can definitely see how they reflect an auterism and a particular voice, but… they’re still ill-concieved films. They are more “art” than “entertainment.” She strongly uses the motif of feet, cutting back to images of the lower half of people for much of the film. Also, she doesn’t use sync dialogue, so everytime someone speaks, we only see the person they are speaking to. And then when the other person replies, we go to the first person for a reaction shot. This really really fucks with a viewer’s head (cuz we never see mouths move; actually she’s very innovative with this, using everything from walkie talkies, to hands, to objects, all covering people’s mouth so we don’t see them “speaking”). This approach is very experimental, and does seem to reflect a certain sensibility, even if it was purely a money-saving technique. The story is lurid, but the movie is not. Basically, a lusty girl wears her showy nightgown when taking out the trash, the janitor sees her, and rapes her. She kills him, goes on the run, and then gets beaten and raped by some more men. Some of this is very funny, but its weird to think that this “roughie” film was supposed to titillate 1960’s men. And I can definitely see some men liking that stuff. But, the ending is quite unusual- she is being attacked by a detective when she suddenly wakes up from her dream. It was all a dream!! But, she wakes only to go thru the same actions all over again, including her rape by the janitor. It has a very Twilight Zone feeling to it. This is a classic trash film.
VIXON- [3.4]
WOMEN IN REVOLT- [3.9]
CALIGULA- [4.0] You have not lived till you’ve seen Caligula!
A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE- [3.8]
FASTER, PUSSYCAT! KILL! KILL!- [3.8] Tura Satana steals the show here, as the man-eating Amazon goddess, Varla. Well, she’s not actually any of those descriptions REALLY, but she may as well be. Along with her two other big breasted ass-kicking amigas, Varla bullies a young man who only wants to impress his girlfriend with his suped-up racecar. After Varla almost kills him, they get into a fight, and Varla snaps the young man’s neck. Then, they kidnap the girlfriend and bring her to an old farm house inhabited by the precursors of TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE. As the grandpa tries groping the young girl, Billie (the blond) tries getting it on with the semi-retarded hunk of a son of grandpa. Soon, mayhem breaks loose, and Varla…well, she goes a bit crazy. The movie moves along at a quick pace, and has many great one liners, but mostly is impressive for its strong, unforgettably aggressive Tura Satana. She is the ultimate male-castration nightmare. Russ Meyer’s classic is more tame and sensible than his later “mainstream” masterpiece BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, but its still good fun. Its short enough that the repetitive violent moments, and the rather humdrum plot don’t get too boring. And it has possibly one of the greatest titles in cinema.
CUL-DE-SAC- [4.0] Surprisingly hilarious. When doubled billed with a quiet horror film like REPULSION, one doesn’t expect absurd humor. But here we have Polanski genius. A car slowly rolls to a stop as the credits wrap. Lionel Stander begins speaking and the audience immediately begins cracking up. Then, Donald Pleasance, whose role in HALLOWEEN is the only one to come to mind, fools around with his French wife, who dresses Donald up in her nightgown and make-up. When he hears someone breaking into their castle, Donald runs downstairs in drag to confront Lionel. Its quite a scene. They go back out to get the stranded wounded passenger from the car, only to discover that the tide has come in and made the car an island, with Albie trapped inside. If this all sounds weirdly stupid, its because it’s a British film (with that Polish touch). The highlight has to be when Donald’s “friends” storm the castle in order to inspect his French wife. Lionel, a thief who is waiting to be picked up by his Boss, has to pretend that he is the castle servant, and the situations are absurdly amusing. The end seems a bit too long (the Spielbergian syndrome of too many false endings). I would have been extremely satisfied if the film at faded to black right after Donald shoots Lionel to death, with the handsome man showing up, looking confusedly at the dead man and the car on fire. However, we get five more minutes of the wife shrieking how the man is dead, and then pleading with the handsome man to take her away from her crazy husband. The last image is Donald, having waded through the tidewater, sitting alone on top of a rock. It’s a strangely solemn ending, and one ripe with meaning (though I can’t seem to grasp it fully). A very pleasant film.
REPULSION- [3.8]
SLEEP- [3.4]
MANOS: THE HANDS OF FATE- [2.5] Truly monstrous film barely saved by the skilled comedy of Mystery Science Theatre 3000.
FEMALE TROUBLE- [4.3]
PLAY IT AS IT LAYS- [2.7] Slow moving, but with the feeling of moving quickly due to the rapid cutting technique employed. That is the deceptive magic of this film. It is not available yet on DVD or VHS and may not be for some time (so I was very surprised at how nice a print I saw for this ‘rare’ film). Anthony Perkins stole the show for me, giving a fantasticly different character from his trademark Norman Bates. I never knew Perkins had such depth. Aside from certain small mannerisms, its as if Perkins is a whole different person here. Tuesday Weld also does a fine job. The opening starts jarringly enough, with rapid cuts to the future and the past interlaced with the opening monologue. Then, the rest of the film takes on the form of a confused, dazed mess. Which kinda works in that it is supposed to be what the Weld character is feeling. Its frustrating, but it also almost put me to sleep. I didn’t understand much of what was going on, nor did I really care. This film attempted to be very serious, dealing with existentialist crisis of the time, but with that sly, early 70’s forced carelessness (probably a result of self-absorption). Some of the images, like the abortion, are memorable. As well there are many gay amusing moments, such as when a ‘hunky’ man wearing a skimpy bathing bottom walks out to Perkins and exclaims “this is a fake lemon” and then goes on to complain that its not a funny practical joke, he needs a real lemon. Perkin’s death in Weld’s arms, with her affirming that she knew what he was doing would be gut-wrenching if I still cared at that point.
DAY OF THE LOCUST- [4.4] Incredible. This film is another brilliant work by John Schlesinger (of MIDNIGHT COWBOY fame). Karen Black, who I only know from FAMILY PLOT, EASY RIDER, NASHVILLE and a strange cult following, shows off her early acting chops, and, unfortunately, she was really good!! Its sad to see someone so wonderful in an earlier film, but then never really getting any chances after that, and being relegated to trashy softcore films. But she is in HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CORPSES, so… William Atherton (who was really cute in SUGARLAND EXPRESS) is even more oddly attractive here; it must be that baby face. What I love about this film is that characters who you expect to be likeable, or at least become likeable as the film goes on, are NOT (thank god for 1970’s cynicism). In a typical Hollywood picture, Faye (Black) and Tod (Atherton) would have had a romance, gotten together even…at least cared about each other. But Tod, who we sympathize with from the beginning, is a very complex person; he gets drunk and tries to rape Faye, screaming “bitch” at her; he lies about the real cause of a stage disaster that caused several injuries; schmoozes his way up the Hollywood ladder; and was just really mean at times. Faye, who sums herself up by telling Tod “I could only marry someone rich,” seems to be just the typical dumb blonde wannabe-starlet, but by the end, you realize she’s not what you had pinned down. She lives with Homer Simpson not because she loves him, nor just because he buys her things, but because he doesn’t demand anything of her, he treats her right. Unfortunately she, along with everyone she knows, takes advantage of poor Homer. I know, “Homer Simpson,” I thought that the unintentional irony of the name would impact my view of the character, but Donald Sutherland amazes with his quiet, lonely, determined elderly accountant. The first two acts were marvelous, but I was beginning to think the third was dragging, and then Schlesinger pulls out all the stops. Two things I hate, that really get me ticked off in a movie: mob violence and picking on weaker, gentler people (especially when it’s the case of the poor taking advantage of the rich; call me a capitalist, but I feel that if poor Homer wants to live quietly and nicely with all of his possessions, there is no place for the greedy, spongy drifters to graft onto him). Well, both of those elements were present in the last part. While I was both thrilled to see Homer finally let out his aggression on the little child prick Adorre, it was also a shockingly brutal scene, culminating in a mass riot and bloody mob rule at the premier of a Cecil B. Demille picture. It was surreal, funny, and horrifying all at once. The announcer, blinded by the bright lights of the premier, does not see what is going on, and merely thinks it is the crowd going crazy over the stars of the picture. The film’s final coda isn’t necessary, but it does offer a sense of closure. Besides the final pandemonium-induced scene, one other scene will always remain classic to me: the evangelist, surrounded by bright neon crosses; she shrieks to the audience to let JEE-ZUS save them; she performs miracles and demands money because “God owns the oil fields” and “Jesus needs money to do his work!” It’s another haunting moment, one that harkens back to Fellini (and his Catholic scenes in ROMA), but is still distinctly American. Overall, not to be missed.
MR. DEATH: THE RISE AND FALL OF FRED A. LEUCHTER, JR. - [3.7] Very interesting documentary spoiled by my heady distaste of Errol Morris’ filmic techniques. He seems to like to blend reality and fiction (I think he was the first person to use ‘reenactment’ in a doc, THE THIN BLUE LINE). However, this seems to sensationalize the material, and make it harder for me to swallow what Morris is trying to say. He has Fred Leuchter sit in an electric chair, which Morris presents with wacky visual effects and an awkward overzealous score. The film feels rather objective, until we near the end, where I get the impression that this whole thing is an attempt by Morris to mock the man. Fortunately, it is only a slight wayward fleeing from the two sided-argument that Morris presents. The first half mainly deals with Fred’s history, telling of his expertise at building Death machines, improving on the electric chair, gallows, lethal injection, and gas chamber for states, in order to make capital punishment more humane (“I’m for capital punishment. I am not for capital torture” he says). Then, this interesting, though rather harmless bio-study shifts when we learn that he became a Holocaust denier when he went to Aushwitz to examine the supposedly-supposed gas chamber. Not only do we hear from a very slick, unlikeable neo-Nazi-ish Ernst Zundel, but we also hear from fanatical Zionistic women who shout that simply because Fred went to Canada to speak in defense of Zundel, he is automatically delusional, Anti-Semitic, and a Nazi. Umm…OK. The only hint at Anti-Semiticism I heard from Fred was when he mentioned that he couldn’t get any more jobs after he testified in Canada. He says that after working for weeks on a new death device for a prison, the warden, a man that Fred names as a “Mr. Silverman” has Fred fired and refuses to pay him for any of his work. The film then brings up the fact that the state tried suing him for working without an engineering license (shock, oh shock!! He doesn’t even have credentials!! How can we believe him about anything now?). So, Fred retorts that most engineers work without a license, and that even though he hints at a conspiracy against him, he says he harbors no ill will to certain people, but he was forced to move to California, and still can’t find work. It’s a very strange, I think tragic story. Don’t get me wrong, Fred seemed like a pompous asshole (he claims he couldn’t be wrong about the results of his gas chamber tests, but from all accounts, he doesn’t really seem like the most qualified man to be conducting these tests, as the lab chemist who examined the rock chippings from the gas chamber attests to). At least I give Morris credit for presenting a challenging, fair portrait of a man and his philosophy.
THE IN-LAWS (1979)- [4.2]
MIKEY AND NICKY- [4.4]
WINGS OF DESIRE- [3.5]
SCANNERS- [3.7]
EXISTENZ- [4.1] Tight, silly, gruesome, exciting, and wonderfully weird. This is classic Cronenberg. Jude Law does a great pre-star performance, complete with Canadian accent, in a futuristic world where virtual reality games seem to be everyone’s business. Jennifer Jason Leigh does a magnificent job as the world’s premier gamer, who is on the run from a cult of “realists” who want to kill her from bringing the game eXistenZ into being. Of course, the game controls are strange, almost alive, fleshy modules that must be plugged into your bio-port, which is located in the base of the spine. The bioport is one of the most clearly GAY SEX references in all cinema. It is an asshole like hole, that must be lubricated before the ambilical cord-like thing is inserted. There are great moments where the characters finger the bioport, or, in a moment of passion, Jude Law licks hers. The concept of alternate realities where we never know when we are playing the game or not, is fascinating, but done much more publicly the same year in the MATRIX. Too bad no one noticed the joy that is eXistenZ.
DOLEMITE- [3.5]
CHILDS PLAY- [3.6] One of the most illogical horror movie ever. And that’s saying a lot. So, a serial killer who happens to have learned Santeria, transfers his soul into that of a doll, and then, after remaining tranquil and silent about his animation, goes out to kill his ex-partner and a cop. Okay…but then, we have a cop who must have gotten his job by sucking every cock in town, because, damned if he does a single thing in the film. When he approaches the mother about the death of her babysitter, he tells her he’s from Homicide, and she asks him “what happened.” Ummm, he’s from HOMICIDE!!!! Someone died! And since your babysitters not there,…hm, lets think about it. After freaking out at the officer’s suggestion that the boy may have been involved, she throws him out of the house. How can she do this during a murder investigation? I’m not sure, but the officer complies. Later, the officer scoffs at the mother’s assertion that the doll is alive, even though she shows him teeth marks in her arm from Chucky. The officer tells her she’s crazy, and then refuses to stop her when she tells him she’s going to the shady part of town to check out a lead. When Chucky tries killing the cop, and this is the most frustrating part, the cop is in the car, and instead of stopping, he ACCELERATES, and keeps driving, watching the road, trying to steer, as Chucky tries choking and stabbing him. !!???? When the car crashes, the cop doesn’t even try to get out of the wrecked car, but remains in there trying to shoot at Chucky, who is outside. Further scenes of this nature made me want to just kill the fucking cop character, he was so frustrating. Finally, they burn Chucky, yet he remains alive (I thought he was becoming more human? So….humans can survive that, with a vengeance?). And then he gets decapitated. And he comes back. And the whole reason is so that he can transfer his essence into the boy. Cuz being in a boy’s body is far superior to being in the doll’s body. Clearly. It all makes so much sense. But, I must say, the babysitters death is horribly, hilariously excessive, as is this whole film. How this ever got made, or had sequels is beyond me (but I’m sure Bride/Seed of Chucky are tons better than this ).
LOLITA- [3.8] Okay, but overlong film about Lolita, the little sexy nymphet who has so masterfully enticed Humbert Humbert (another great James Mason performance), that he can’t help but marry Lolita’s mother in order to stay in the house so as to be near Lolita. First off, poor poor Shelly Winters is always getting fucked over (its like a sexier sequel to her role in NIGHT OF THE HUNTER!). The examination of modern “progressive” sexuality is surface deep and not entirely exciting. The apparent “couple swappers” that approach Humbert at the dance party are subtle but revealing enough that we think we are about to go into that territory, but unlike BOB,CAROL,TED, AND ALICE (which does cover the material excellently), the film continues on its merry way. Lolita, though played extremely believably by Sue Lyons, isn’t that interesting of a character, which may or may not make the whole film better for her banality. On the one hand, Humbert’s obsession becomes silly, trivial and more pathetic because we see her to be so beneath Humbert in terms of intelligence and interests. On the other hand, two and a half hours is a long time to drag out a relationship with characters who are so one-dimensional. All Humbert seems to want is Lolita. We don’t get much character background or personality beyond that. We only see him after he becomes obsessed, so we never learn how he has really changed. Also, the beginning is such an odd way to begin the film, it doesn’t quite set the right mood, and it sets up Peter Sellers to be an integral player, which he really isn’t. Also, the ending does a shoddy job of trying to patch together Lolita’s time with Quilty, leading to Humbert going to kill Quilty. Its forced and done in exposition rather than visually. I still don’t see what the big deal is about Lolita.
BASQUIAT- [3.8] Well, I can certainly tell you who stole the show in this one… a certain mr. David Bowie’s portrayal of the already eccentric mr. Andy Warhol.
YOUTH OF THE BEAST- [3.9]
EMPIRE OF THE SUN- [4.1] As much as Spielberg tried, he still couldn’t completely fuck up this near-masterpiece. This film has several big names in it, but it is Christian Bale who steals the show in one of the best child performances I’ve ever seen. Bale manages to pull off the know-it-all, brash, yet naïve boy that is usually played with so much sugar that I want to kill the annoying child actor. But Bale gracefully pushes the boundaries of a youth playing the role of an adult. This is a coming of age tale like few out there. After getting separated from his parents in WWII, Bale is taken under the wing of Americans John Malkovitch and Joey Pantoliano. Ben Stiller even shows up later as a young GI. Bale’s fascination with the Japanese army, and his respect for them even as they jail him in their internment camps, is a remarkably complex plot point. This is how war movies should be told; the action sequences and battle serve a point, but it is the human stories, the prisoners, and the emotional baggage of having to survive while everyone around you dies, which really interests me. If Spielberg could have let go of his family-friendly hang-ups and his selfish ambitions, he would have seen that he could have really reached a profound moment 2 hours into the film, when it looks as if the story will end. Bale, having been adopted by the American internment guys, looks out over the Japanese planes getting ready for takeoff, as the Kamikazi pilots prepare their special war rituals, drinking sake and so forth. As the kamikazi sing the national anthem, Bale joins in, with his fragile, high falsetto. He then salutes the planes, as all the soldiers look on. It is a complex, unpredictable scene; ridiculous yet moving. It cannot be broken down or fully explained, which adds to its beauty as a truer image. But instead of fading to black, Spielberg continues on with his saga for another 30 or 40 minutes, showing the bombing of the interment camp by the Americans, a move to another internment camp, the atomic bomb, and then Bale being reunited with both parents. Ummmm…unnecessary. The happy ending and all of the subsequent unused endings lessen the impact of the movie. There were so many opportunities for powerful finales, but Spielberg moves past them so that he may get to HIS favorite part: the idealic, unnatural family reunion. Gag me. Spielberg’s “charmy” style seemed valid (or at least watchable) in some scenes of the film, but by the end, with Bale riding around the empty camp on his motorcycles, as ration packages fall from the heavens, I was gaffawing with disgust. At least we know Bale is consistent in his greatness… |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 24th, 2005|01:14 am] |
because sometimes i can be a sourpuss,
i thought i'd throw out there how much I love you all.
a lot.
(well, maybe not 'love'. and definately not 'all.' but, ya know. something like that. cheers!) |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 15th, 2005|02:59 pm] |
He’s Not as Confident as He Looks:
The Prankster as a Masculine Archetype in the Films of Wes Anderson
“When one man, for whatever reason, has the opportunity to lead an extraordinary life, he has no right to keep it to himself.” This quotation from Jacques-Yves Cousteau, which appears in an early scene of Rushmore and is an impetus for Max Fischer’s pursuit of Ms. Cross, serves as a key maxim for the main figures in Wes Anderson’s films. With the characters of Dignan from Bottle Rocket, Max Fisher from Rushmore, and Royal Tenenbaum from The Royal Tenenbaums, Anderson has established the Prankster as an archetype of masculine identity. The Prankster may be a reckless and selfish liar, but he is also humorous, adventurous, and competitive. He is a nonconformist, and may engage in thievery and violence, but importantly, never to a great enough extent as to warrant the audience’s disapproval. In fact, the Prankster is often the film’s most likeable character, possibly because he seems to be having all the fun. The Prankster’s failures and need for redemption demonstrate a recognizable character flaw, giving him a greater depth and allowing the audience to further engage in his often-outrageous actions. Close inspection of the main Prankster characters in Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and Royal Tenenbaums reveal males who live in an exclusive “boy’s world,” who suffer from the same flaws, exhibit the same outgoing attitudes, and are portrayed as archetypes of masculinity.
Resembling the cowboy from classic Westerns, the Prankster appeals especially to adolescent males because of his existence in male-specific stories set in male-oriented worlds. The roles of women in Anderson’s films are limited, as they are in Westerns, to two categories: the family (Grace, Etheline, Margot), and the love interest (Inez, Ms. Cross, Margaret). While women may prove to be the catalyst for action, such as spurring Max into competition to win the heart of Ms. Cross, it is the men who are actually central to the Prankster’s life. Women are rarely shown interacting with one another (with the exception of Etheline and Margot), though the main male characters always have their “sidekick”: Dignan has Anthony, Max has Blume, and Royal has Pagoda. Even if many young men may relate better to the sidekick, the hero of the story- whether it be the cowboy or the Prankster- is invariably the more charismatic and enjoyable figure. The cowboy and the Prankster both inform the male viewer of the qualities inherent in a heroic leader. Thus, like the cowboy, the Prankster becomes a masculine archetype, asserting the need for individuality, usually achieved by stepping outside of society’s rigid confines. However, while the cowboy is serious while facing off against his enemies, the Prankster is mischievous and is typically shown to be his own worst enemy.
Because mischievousness is the Prankster’s main attribute, pranks become his most distinguished actions. The pranks function as adventures, while allowing a sense of defiance of authority and the thrill involved with risk-taking. The Prankster rejects society’s strict behavioral conventions in order to both have fun and gain recognition for his actions. In a statement that sums up Anderson’s views on the Prankster’s masculinity, Royal asserts, “You can’t raise boys to be scared of life. You got to brew some recklessness into them.” Frustrated with his grandsons’ cautious, well-adjusted lifestyles, Royal stresses the necessity of pranks: “I’m not talking about dance lessons. I’m talking about putting a brick through the other guy’s windshield. I’m talking about taking it out and chopping it up.” In an enthusiastic montage, Royal, Ari, and Uzi engage in a series of pranks and adventures, including jaywalking through heavy traffic, racing go-carts through a construction site, throwing water balloons at a passing taxicab, and stealing milk from a corner shop. The illicitness of their actions is highlighted by the lyric, “It’s against the law,” from Paul Simon’s “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard,” which plays over the montage. While these pranks demonstrate Royal’s dedication to having fun, the pranks also function as a means for Royal to prove that he is a good grandfather. Royal admits to Pagoda, “Dammit, I want this family to love me.” By showing Ari and Uzi a good time, Royal hopes to gain their approval, and thus satisfy the need for his family’s acceptance. In another scene, Royal tells Richie, “I guess I’m trying to prove I can pay my dues and what-not. I just hope somebody notices.” Though this statement is a response to his new job as an elevator operator, it also applies to Royal’s behavior towards his family. Again, the Prankster’s need for recognition and acceptance dictate his actions.
The Prankster’s mischievous actions also reveal an enthusiasm for competition. Dignan, for example, feels compelled to compete with Mr. Henry in order to gain his respect, leading Dignan to commit larger and more elaborate thefts. When things go wrong during their last robbery attempt, Dignan tells Anthony to leave him alone at the crime scene because he needs to “fly solo.” When Anthony refuses, Dignan scowls and asks, “Who is in charge here?” This behavior points to Dignan’s main motivation as validation, his desire to rival the perceived grandiosity of Mr. Henry’s schemes. Dignan, like many of Anderson’s heroes, suffers from delusions of grandeur, believing that only by living an “exceptional life” can he truly be a man. In the Prankster’s delusion, an underlying assumption is that the only way to prove one’s worth is by rivaling someone else. Max tries desperately to set up competitions that he can win in order to prove to the school and Ms. Cross that he is an exceptional person. The sheer number of clubs and school activities in which Max partakes overcompensate for his lack of academic credentials. If he can’t compete with his grades, he can compete with social credits (though this doesn’t restrict Max from envisioning himself defeating the impossible math problem in the film’s opening dream sequence; Max yearns for those instances in which he can prove his exceptionality). In trying to win the heart of Ms. Cross, Max becomes exceedingly competitive in order to demonstrate his individuality and set him apart as a “winner.” At dinner with Blume, Ms. Cross and her date, Max tries to outdo the doctor by repeatedly spouting his accomplishment, “I wrote a hit play!” When Blume becomes a challenger for Ms. Cross’ affections, Max further displays his sense of rivalry by encouraging Blume’s wife to sue for divorce, unleashing a swarm of bees into Blume’s hotel room, and dangerously tampering with the brakes to Blume’s car.
Even when Max’s pranks get out of hand and pose a serious threat to someone, such as when he cuts the brakes to Blume’s car, the very fact that no one is injured and that the car comically slows down inches from hitting Mr. LittleJeans saves Max from the audience’s wrath. From a writer’s standpoint, it is difficult to have an audience sympathize with a character who intentionally inflicts great harm on someone without just cause (and its reasonable to assume that an audience would not find Max’s aggressive love for Ms. Cross reason enough to severely injure Blume). Thus, Anderson’s Prankster is limited to relatively non-violent, humorous pranks. Though involving guns, Dignan’s illicit escapades remain harmless, making them viewable more as pranks than serious criminal enterprises. Dignan is far more concerned with the theatrics and excitement of stealing than with profits reaped, as evidenced in the assault on the bookstore. Instead of trying to hide his identity like an experienced criminal, Dignan puts a piece of tape over the bridge of his nose, for the simple confounding effect it elicits (“What are you putting that tape on your nose for?” asks Bob. Dignan replies, “Exactly.”) Dignan’s attempt to use animal noises in signaling Bob is amusing for its seaming ignorance in how to appear stealthy. Most telling of all, even though Dignan is only able to steal a few ridiculously-small bag’s of cash, he runs back to the car exclaiming, “Success! Full Success!” This is not to say that Dignan is averse to money; he does end up punching Anthony for giving away the stolen cash. However, the money serves mainly as a trophy for Dignan, as a conspicuous sign of the achievement of his prank. Dignan isn’t upset at how little money he stole because the amount of money is not as important as the actual completion of the robbery.
As Dignan himself admits, “Sometimes I’m not as confident as I look.” This statement spells out for the viewer the significant flaw in Anderson’s main male figures: the deep-rooted questioning of self-worth, which leads characters to seek validation and recognition from a perceivably hostile world. Royal’s self-doubt is not as obvious as the other characters, for it is obscured by his overwhelming selfishness. Looking closer, though, this selfishness reflects Royal’s need to get his own way, to be a winner, and thus to prove himself as a man. Etheline asks, “Why didn’t you give a damn about us, Royal? Why didn’t you care?” Royal replies that he doesn’t know. In fact, Royal rejects his family because he cannot be a team player. In an earlier scene, when Royal is playing with his children, he shoots Chas with a BB gun. Chas tries protesting, telling Royal they are on the same team, but Royal laughs and counters, “There are no teams!” This selfish individualism reflects the Prankster’s need to assert his self-confidence and value as a man. Royal’s need to go at life on his own, apart from his family, is the same as Dignan’s need to finish the last robbery alone. But while Royal chooses a life of isolation, Dignan is forced into it. As Mr. Henry explains to Anthony, Dignan “thought he had a team, [but he] turns out to be a man alone.” Dignan gathers Anthony and Bob into his makeshift crew so that he can assert his leadership and validate himself for Mr. Henry. Like Max, Dignan rejects any bid for academic exceptionality (“I learned more in the two months I spent with Mr. Henry and his crew than I learned in fifteen years of academic study,” Dignan tells Anthony) because it is the Prankster’s actions that prove his manhood.
Redemption is major theme in Anderson’s work, and it serves as an alternate means for the Prankster to achieve his goal of recognition. Royal Tenenbaum portrays an aged Prankster, a man who never outgrew his mischievous, youthful personality. Several incidents depict Royal as a reproachable character, one whose intentions are consistently revealed to be selfish: he shoots his own son with a BB gun while laughing maliciously about it, insults and demeans his daughter’s play, cheats on his wife, steal’s his son’s childhood earnings, and continually makes highly insensitive comments. Yet, Royal’s bid for redemption endears him to audience sympathy. Royal admits to Richie and Margot that he’s been a bad father, a “shit” his whole life, but he wants to make up for it. He grants Etheline a divorce, saves Ari and Uzi from being hit by Eli’s car, and, when Buckley is killed, he buys a new dog for Chas. Royal’s forgiveness by his family (especially Chas’ tear-filled gratitude for Royal’s gift) presents Royal as the story’s hero, and his redemption becomes the emotional climax of the film. This redemption enables Royal to gain the recognition/love of his family. Similarly, Max realizes he cannot get Ms. Cross to recognize him as a lover, so he attempts to gain her respect by his redemptive actions. He intentionally seats Ms. Cross and Blume next to each other at the play and dedicates the performance to Ms. Cross’ dead husband, Edward Applebee. Interestingly, by seeking forgiveness, Max appears satiated by the recognition he gets for turning over a new leaf. He has a girlfriend, a new “hit play”, and is actually able to dance with Ms. Cross. Not insignificantly, the reconciliation of characters takes place at a party honoring Max’s play, furthering the notion that Max has achieved the attention status that he has sought the entire film. Even if the Prankster fails to gain proper validation through pranks, he is accorded recognition through redemptive actions.
Anderson’s films show the folly of much of the Prankster’s behavior, which necessitates the redemption of the Prankster by the film’s end. However, Anderson also clearly emphasizes the Prankster as a desirable model of masculinity because even if the Prankster fails to accomplish what he set out to do, at least he tried. In The Royal Tenenbaums, the Narrator describes a pivotal scene: “The next morning Richie woke at dawn. He had decided birds should not be kept in cages, fed Mordecai three sardines, and set him free.” Richie’s understanding that “birds should not be kept in cages” can be seen as a metaphor for Anderson’s own ideology, that humans should not be confined by society’s strict rules. The Royal Tenenbaums ends with Chas, the most uptight character in the film, finally loosening up and accepting his father’s love. While Royal has behaved horribly to his wife and children for his entire life, the audience sees Royal as the man who brings the whole family together again. The film’s final scene, a funeral in honor of Royal, shows the characters (and in essence, Anderson himself) paying respect to the Prankster. Royal’s tombstone- which bears the clever epitaph, “Died tragically rescuing his family from the wreckage of a destroyed sinking battleship”- refuses to reject the Prankster persona that Royal embodied, and instead promotes “Pranksterism” as the ideal. Royal was able to live and die a Prankster, even while becoming the hero of the story. The final scene of Bottle Rocket also quite clearly emphasizes that the audience’s sympathies should lie with Dignan, the Prankster. After pulling one last prank on his friends, by trying to convince them of an elaborate escape plan, Dignan flashes his trademark goofy grin, and walks silently into prison. Though the rest of the scene has been played from Anthony’s perspective, looking into the prison, the last three shots of the film are shot from within the prison gates. The audience’s very last impression of Anthony and Bob is an image of them behind the prison gates, implying that their non-Prankster lifestyle is imprisoning. The film’s closing shot valorizes the Prankster by presenting a clear image of Dignan walking away from the camera in slow motion, an image echoing the heroic cowboy riding off into the sunset.
Cinema has a long history of presenting strong masculine archetypes, from the cowboy to the gangster to the crime fighter. Anderson’s Prankster has a significant character flaw, but is nonetheless offered as an alternative portrait of masculine identity. Anderson stresses man’s desire to be exceptional and his need to be recognized as such by his peers. By instilling the characteristics of the Prankster in three figures who occupy different roles in different worlds, Anderson demonstrates that the Prankster’s basic psychology can be found in the most varied of situations; the Prankster can be a Texan drifter, a private-school student, or a once-wealthy patriarch. The Prankster is by no means the only masculine archetype to be found in Anderson’s work, but he is the strongest. The films’ other male characters, as well as the often-ignored females, may provide further insight into the unique way in which Wes Anderson views the world. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 5th, 2005|09:50 am] |
LOST,
was bought, on dvd,
using schemed borders dollars
in order to satisfy my curiosity
regarding all the oddities and
characters in this x-files/twin peaks-like
world/island
it has become an addictive escape,
when i cannot look at a chinese book,
read another padded word of shaefer,
eat another bowl of cerial,
write another goddamn essay,
study for another worthless exam,
or hang out with the same, repetitive people,
I watch LOST.
its quite good, and its drama and suspense
do a lot to stifle my disatisfaction
with many things reality-related,
i find myself going through hours of
soap opera pixelation in one day,
and then sleaping for the rest.
its been five days since i've had an
email from my boy, and pathetically,
i feel absolutely crushed by this.
i never thought waiting could be like
this, a whole semester of "i dont care,
lets get it done and move to december".
every 'important' event is trumped by my
envisioned reunion with love. unlike those
elevated poets of yore,
i cannot stand nor romanticize unrequited love.
so, i lay in bed, doing nothing,
dreaming of silly things,
masturbating like a fiend,
drinking cold instant coffee,
and watching LOST. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 17th, 2005|01:45 am] |
TRASH- [4.0] My favorite of the Paul Morrisey trilogy of Joe Dellesandro films. While far far removed from a typically polished film, the sound quality is much improved, the dialogue sharper and funnier, and the camera work more daring and watchable. Judy Woodlawn steals the show here, as a sex craved, garbage digging tranny. Her seduction of a bespectacled high schooler who just wants to by drugs is both humorous and offputting. He specifically requests no needles, and when she arrives with his drugs, it’s a needle. He nervously attempts to reject her offer, but she pulls down his pants and looks for a butt cheek to stick it in. One other female comes close to topping Judy, and that’s . Imagine Barbra Streisand on LSD and you are only half way to who is. Her acting rests in the uneasy territory of many John Waters’ players, somewhere between annoyingly stilted and hysterically absurd. This film feels much like a sequel to FLESH, with Joe now a true junky, unable to get his cock hard, no matter how much everyone in the film tries to play with it and make it rise. Joe delivers another solid performance, and truly shows his acting chops. While he drove FLESH with unmistakable charm and charisma, he wades through this film in a yellow haze. His body language and sunken facial expressions are perfect, one of the most realistic portrayals of drug use I’ve seen, its almost a documentary. There are so many especially memorable vignettes here, as in FLESH. One is where Joe tries to rob an apartment, only to be invited in by the young woman and asked to rape her. When her husband comes home, she tells Joe to pretend to be a high school friend. She then bathes him, watching his beautifully hung penis the whole time. Then, her and her husband get excited to watch Joe shoot up, and then as he OD’s, they both argue about what to do with his body, finally deciding to throw his naked body into the streets. Harrowing and funny as hell. Oh, and then there’s the incest, when Joe’s pregnant sister tries to have sex with him, claiming that sex is just an animal urge, so it doesn’t matter who you do it with. And then, in an attempt to get welfare, Judy pretends to be pregnant (by putting a pillow in her blouse!) and calling in a welfare worker. Because Joe is a junky, the man won’t allow them welfare…unless Judy gives up her “fabulous” shoes that remind the welfare man of the shoes worn by his favorite Joan Crawford! Absolutely hysterical. But, the shining moment has to be Judy fucking her, umm… “vagina” with a beer bottle while orgasmically shrieking, “Oh god, I want welfare! I love welfare!”
HEAT (1972)- [3.6] The third of the Morrisey trilogy. While an interesting premise, mainly doing a parody of SUNSET BOULEVARD, this doesn’t work as well as Morrisey’s other ventures, mostly because this film relies less on short, biting scenes in favor of a more structured plot. Who would have thought that incorporating a plot could make a film lose so much of its personality? While not a long film, it felt very long. ___ again gave a great performance, although this time, thankfully, as a main character. Her mother, played by an actual REAL actress, ___, is fabulous, reminding me of Diane Ladd’s hysterical performance in WILD AT HEART. The humor isn’t as clever here, although there is a fun scene in which __ jerks off a retarded boy, who happens to have sex with his brother onstage for an entertainment act. Hah. Boy, the seventies were fun. My favorite part is the ending, in which the deranged actress mother gets out her gun to kill Joe, who has just left her. She runs out to the pool, where Joe is walking, and she raises the gun, aims, and it appears as if it is going to follow through with the well-known scene in SUNSET BOULEVARD. But then, nothing! She tries shooting some more, but the gun is jammed. She looks furiously at the gun, then tosses it into the ocean, and walks away, defeated. Pure genius.
BATMAN BEGINS- [4.3] This is what a comic book movie should be! As good as Tim Burton’s BATMAN was, it was more about the hero than about the man. Sure Bruce Wayne was there, played magnificently by Michael Keaton, but he didn’t have much spice, much of a figure. Christian Bale makes a flawless Wayne. I was so pleased to see Wayne as the prominent character in this film, with far more scenes than his alter ego of Batman. The first third of the film, dealing with Wayne’s search for structure in his life, is fascinating and insightful. Liam Neesan is a truly frightening villain, but he’s no matched for the absolutely crazed Cilian Murphy. I jumped and held my breath in my seat several times in this film. The Scarecrow was never even close to as terrifying in the comic books. Cilian Murphy’s eyes exude a controlled madness that even Nicholson’s Joker never came close to. Michael Cane was ok as Alfred; I only say that because Cane has begun bothering me of late, as he seems to play all of his recent roles with the same mannerisms and tonal qualities. The same “unconvinced” attitude goes to Morgan Freeman, who has never made me a fan of his mostly because he has never made me feel anything for any of his characters (I know… I should see MILLION DOLLAR BABY. Maybe). But he too is fine as Lucius Fox, a mostly worthless character, good only for plot points. Gary Oldman is good as Captain Gordon, but he needs more to do. I’m hoping he’ll get a chance to play a more integral role in a sequel. Katie Holmes wasn’t horrible. Her self-righteous nature in real life (cough, Cruise-bot anyone?) shines through nicely as the annoying DA, love of Wayne’s life. The whole film tied up nicely, as well, with the hint of Joker being the sequel’s bad guy. This film never stopped moving and always delivered what it promised. And even when I doubted Bale in the Batman suit (he looked much more awkward than Keaton in the suit), the moment he growled his threatening lines at a criminal, I was hooked. THIS was the Dark Knight I had been waiting for. Five stars for Christopher Nolan!
SARABAND- [3.8]
WAR OF THE WORLDS- [3.7]
MYSTERIOUS SKIN- [4.1]
WHO IS BOZO TEXINO? – [3.0]
THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE, AND HER LOVER- [4.2]
THE LOSS OF THE NAMELESS THINGS- [4.0]
THE KILLERS (1946)- [4.0]
CRONICAS- [3.8]
A YEAR WITHOUT LOVE- [2.3] Atrocious gay Argentinian melodrama about how hard it is for an HIV-positive youth to find love. Wait, my eyes are welling up with tears. This thing sucked. Exploring the gay S&M underworld was vaguely interesting, but it still seemed ultra-cinematic and not at all what it would really be like. The actors were mildly hot, but there was only one scene that may be considered erotic. The others involved darkly lit, shadowy, jerky shots of torture and violence. The boy finally publishes his memoirs on what its like to date with HIV, but in the process alienates his whole family. I don’t’ remember if this had an optimistic ending, but I left feeling like shit. It couldn’t have helped that my boyfriend was sitting with some strange man that bought him a ticket to the movie, and I was seated by myself, in a theatre full of annoyingly gay men. God, how sad. The only way to make this all better was a drunken champagne evening.
ANGEL ANGEL DOWN WE GO- [3.8] I’ve never seen a skydiving scene in any film, and this drugged-up feast offers TWO of them! And they are gorgeous. A really wacky plot about a rich heiress who is constantly being made fun of for her weight (she’s really not THAT fat), who is picked up/kidnapped by a drugged-up egotistical singer who just wants to get with a fat chick. Example of dialogue: “Oh god baby, you got bad breath.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” “No, I dig it.” The opening of this movie is fantastic as well, as the VO narrative of the girl recounts her perfect childhood with her perfect parents, while showing her father in the shower with another man. The girl’s mutating drawings and collages make very interesting transitions and comments on the narrative. A truly odd experience.
MARYJANE- [3.9]
THE DYING GAUL- [4.2]
GLORIA- [3.6] My least favorite of Cassavetes work, perhaps because I wanted so much more out of it. This is the most commercial of his films, and yet, even as a gangster thriller shoot-em-up, it stands up with many of his themes and pacing and style (this is so commercial its listed in EW’s list of top action films…WHAT?). Gena Rowlands is wonderful, as always, as a tough ex-moll who is forced to protect a kid who’s parents have been rubbed out by the mob, her old friends. But not only is she angering her old pals, but she hates kids. As always with Cassavetes, people’s motivations are far from clear, as is often the case in life, but I still found it frustrating how easily Gloria Swanson (named after the SUNSET BLVD character) went from hating the kid to trying to protect him. And because this one decision is what the whole film hung on, I got plenty annoyed. I tried to stuff this confusing decision choice away as simply an inciting incident in the screenplay, but I still had a hard time believing that she would so easily ruin her life for this kid. And then the kid…I had heard such praise as to the naturalness of his acting. Sure, the Puerto Rican boy does a fine job, but his dialogue…seems way way too old for his age. Maybe there are kids like that out there, but I really get bothered by film children speaking dialogue that seems way too old for them. Perhaps Cassavetes was playing off of this, and showing the kid being sassy and smart and dumb all at the same time, as some children are, but it didn’t work for me. I didn’t like the kid. And maybe that was the point. Maybe we will never be able to identify with Gloria’s ambiguous love for the child. Cassavetes doesn’t want you to relate. It’s a twisted film, and a bit overlong (as with much of his stuff), but maybe, like his oeuvre, it will grow on me.
DUCK- [3.5] Fascinating premise, made up of a perfect pitch:
Unfortunately, that is only a small part of the film. Most of the film is pretty good, working as a character piece, showing Philip Baker Hall doing an excellent essentially-monologue performance with a duck. Hall really emotes a gentle, confused, determined, out of his element hero in a dark world he no longer understands or really cares too much about. He’s a loner, but also cares about his fellow man, as much as he is able to under the circumstances. He’s not always likeable, and he’s often ridiculously naïve, but he’s utterly charming. However, the film does not stick completely to Hall, and that is when it runs into trouble. Much of this film feels like a public service announcement for homelessness. The other actors’ dialogues are very stiff and preachy, and worst of all, blatantly propogandaist at times. I thought this would be a more clever, sharp witted commentary on current American politics. Instead, it comes right out and says, “Well, ever since the Republicans took away social security, and public funding,…” and so forth. It TELLS us what they did and SHOWS us an unrealistic world where everyone is a monster. People are either good or bad in this film. The old breed, who cling to a very liberal, humanitarian view, who want to help Hall out, and then the majority of Los Angeles, who are selfish, lazy, hateful creatures. It’s a very bleak and unrealistic portrayal of how humans are. Also, most of the other actors in this film are unprofessionals, and thus offer a wide range of acting abilities. So, most of the time, they seem to be the problem, because they only have the ability to represent good and bad, and NOT human gray. Also, many camera angles seemed utterly out of place, mostly the duck POV cam. I feel like it was poorly edited, and needed more objective tweeking. I don’t want to try to insinuate anything, but most of the crew of this film are…women. That is much of the reason why this film was made, because it was funded by the Women in Film org. So…yea. Its not a bad effort, but I wish they could get more talented women out there. At least, they’re trying.
OPENING NIGHT- [4.1]
MINNIE AND MOSKOWITZ- [4.2]
LOVE STREAMS- [3.9]
CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY- [3.9]
DUNE- [3.5]
2046- [3.5] Three strikes, and you’re out War Kon Wei. I was quite bored by this film. It really didn’t speak to me at all, except to say, “look at me! See how pretty I am? Look at me be serious! Look at me be cute! I’m good, really I am.”
NIGHTS OF CABIRIA- [3.9]
JULIET OF THE SPIRITS- [2.9]
TELL THEM WHO YOU ARE- [4.2] Self reflexive to the extreme, pretentious, and quite self absorbent, this documentary on famous cinematographer/director Haskell Wexler, made by his son Mark, is almost as challenging and rewarding of a film as Haskell’s fictional MEDIUM COOL.
MEDIUM COOL- [3.9] While an homage to French new wave, this film also feels like a rip-off of the aesthetic without the full impact of relevant content. Not to say that the content wasn’t relevant to the time period, but that the content and the form that it was presented in didn’t seem to match as well as most of its French counterparts. While paying significant credit to Godard (with both a poster of Jean-Paul Belmondo, star of BREATHLESS, and with a reference to CONTEMPT playing on the television- a reference significant in so many ways, reflecting not only cinema’s absorption into and defilement on the part of television, but also in its foreshadowing of the car accident at the end of MEDIUM COOL, very similar to the end of CONTEMPT)
THE FRESHMAN- [4.1]
DAY OF THE BEAST- [3.4]
ACCIONE MUTANTE- [3.5]
REEFER MADNESS- [2.8]
THE GRADUATE- [4.4]
NIGHT GALLERY (“EYES”)- [3.7] Joan Crawford, blind? Tom Bosley (The father in Happy Days), gambling addict? Steven Spielberg, debut? Ooooh, yes. This is Rod Serling’s pilot to his offshoot of THE TWILIGHT ZONE. There were 3 segments, by different directors. And a certain Mr. Jaws happens to be one of them. The plot is pretty lame, a blind rich bitch pays a gambler for his eyes, and blackmails a doctor to perform the transplant. But, it is played with such serious intensity, and is so serious, especially on Joan’s, part, that it is hard to not laugh and also be disturbed by the whole thing, especially the ridiculous ending. Good times.
DUEL- [3.6] This is Speilberg’s first feature film, and it was only supposed to be a tv movie…but then those damn pesky Europeans got their hands on it, and this action oriented film quickly became an art house hit. Who knew Spiel had it in him? It’s the most basic of plots: A man is driving back home, but is being stalked by a truck that, for some reason, wants to kill him. Obviously, the plot causes the film to drag in many instances, but I was surprisingly entertained and kept on my toes through most of it. The repetition is so ruthless and never lets up, that the horror and excitement flows through the viewer like it does David Mann. The editing could have used a nice 20 or so minutes cut, and the ending is kinda…unsatisfying. But, a very interesting work.
PREDATOR- [3.1]
THE CONFORMIST- [3.7]
INVESTIGATION OF A CITIZEN ABOVE SUSPICION- [4.2]
THE DREAMERS- [4.1]
EYES WITHOUT A FACE- [4.1]
OLIVER TWIST (1948)- [4.2] Fantastic! I thought that this would be quite a bore, but David Lean has managed to put together another masterpiece. Though it lacks the strong ambiguous characterization of LAWRENCE OF ARABIA, this is probably more fitting to Dicken’s novel. I have never read it, but his writing, as portrayed in this film, shows the world pretty much filled with young, innocent children who can do no wrong, rich, generous, and kindly old souls to take care of the poor, and then the EVIL working class and gutter class. These grimy people make up OLIVER’s underworld. Fagin, played marvelously by Alec Guinness, is horrifying in a modern PC sense, mostly because he truly captures the written stereotype of Fagin as a Jewish miser. I mean, the director goes so far as to have Guinness wear a long, crooked prosthetic nose, and speak in a leery Jew/British accent. I assume that Polanski will probably downplay this racial card in his soon-to-be-released remake. The acting and pacing are all superb in this adaptation, and I must say, I felt very strongly about characters at several points in this film. Also, the photography was excellent, with strong contrast, and exquisite detail. I was certainly not bored.
SUGARLAND EXPRESS- [3.8] Speilberg’s own poor man’s version of Bonnie and Clyde.
RED EYE- [4.2]- Great fun from Wes Craven. The script for the film is great, filled with a bits of snappy, but mostly ridiculous, dialogue. Craven loves working with cheese though, and is able to produce a fantastic opening sequence, where broadly drawn characters and bright, soothing art design lead the viewer into a comedy comfort zone. (The trailer for this film is brilliant as well, setting it up to look like a romantic comedy, and then pulling its punch and revealing Cilian’s murderous side). Cilian Murphy and Rachel McAdams give very strong performances, and this realistic and intense (though not over-the-top) acting is what makes the film rise above some of the campiness that makes this “horror” so enjoyable. The plot is ludicrous, but that never bothered me. The action scenes were tense and really well done. Even though the final showdown scene in the girl’s house is one of the most clichéd climaxes in horror, it is done well, and I certainly wasn’t bored. “Excuse me, this isn’t a motel!”
ABOVE SUSPICION- [2.3] Joan Crawford and Fred MacMurray make a really strange romantic couple. I never would have conceived it, and I didn’t believe it for a second on screen. Joan tries to make the best of a terrible role, but she embarrasses herself with her effort. MacMurray waltzes through his role like he does in so many films. The rest of the cast overdo their accents. The plot is ridiculous, if there even really is one. This is a lame attempt to do a spy thriller, but nothing happens for the first hour, as Joan and Fred simply travel through Europe, making contact with other spies. I had a hard time following what was going on, and frankly I didn’t even care that much. How or Why these two became spies was never very clear. A cheap, poorly made early 40’s film. The only bright spot is the end, where, after defeating the bad guys in Italy, Fred says, “Ok, now lets go get some spaghetti!”
NIGHT OF THE HUNTER- [4.0]
LE CORBEAU- [2.9]
BLOOD FOR DRACULA- [3.6] Errr, I love Paul Morrisey, but this slick(er), plot-driven arthouse feast is nowhere near the brilliance of TRASH. I feel like the same thing happened in HEAT. Morrisey’s humor and wackiness are so far removed from the plot, and the film is ludicrous enough anyway, that throughout the whole film I wanted Morrissey to cut loose and go off on a tangent. The film was pretty tightly done, never really straying from the plotline. There are some amazing scenes, most notably everything with Arno Juerging. As Count Dracula’s servant, he lights up every scene with his amazingly silly accent, and his pantomimic facial expressions. The scene where he is challenged to a game of “mirror” (I forget what they call it in the film, “Do as I do?”) and then has a temper when he loses is awesome. The greatest scene has to be when Dracula drinks the blood of a non-virgin, and then vomits it all over the bathroom. It is beautifully sick. Joe Dellesandro is finally put in a non-starring role…and I don’t’ really care for it. He is thoroughly unlikeable, as he rapes a 14 year old girl (which is also sickly humoresque, especially when Dracula comes to lap up the hymen blood). The film seems, like HEAT, to be too long for its own good. The ending is decent, but lacking the punch of HEAT.
SCORPIO RISING- [3.9] Interesting avante-garde film from Kenneth Anger. Bikers, Brando, and S&M.
AMBLIN- [3.8] This was a fine early directorial effort by Spielberg. I don’t know why its gotten such a bad rap. In fact, this is rarely seen because Steven’s studio tries to keep people from getting hold of it? I really can’t figure out why. I think it’s a nice, non dialogue film; very character driven. Its short and sweet enough to be endearing, and very reflective on the late 60’s period when it was made. Perhaps the corny use of sound effects and experimental camera shots (such as a POV “getting stoned” sequence) make this film awkward and funny, but hey! That was 60’s filmmaking at its quirky best. I wonder if Speilberg felt like the main character, a little bit: a boy from suburbia/conservative America trying to fit in with the dirty hippy/ free-love movement, but is eventually rejected by it (the girl, upon finding out that the boy has been only pretending to be a hippy, leaves him in his blissful state in the ocean). Perhaps that’s why he never made another film like this again.
JAWS- [4.7] I forgot how amazing this film is! This is the film that changed everything about the Hollywood system (it basically created the modern Blockbuster, totally revolutionizing the distribution and advertising system). I’ve had a slight disdain for the film, despite it being remembered fondly, because I’m not a huge fan of Speilberg’s later work, and I am upset at how Jaws completely commercialized the ‘director’s cinema’ of the 70’s. But seeing this again, on the big screen, with a packed theatre of a few hundred…amazing. The suspense is pure Hitchcock, and the terrifying moments are so real and so fun. There were definitely a few moments when everyone in the crowd, including myself, jumped out of our seats (even though most of us have seen it before, certain shocks were still surprising). The acting is great, the comic timing is great, and there is only one scene that really loses my attention (The captain telling his WW II story about bringing the bomb to Hiroshima). Otherwise, this is a truly captivating piece of cinema, and a wonderfully tight, entertaining, and beautiful film. (oh, and the music is great too. In the first scene, people were laughing because the score and camera I-cam are so well known and imitated, that the original seemed for a second to be parody, but the impact of that first shark attack quickly displaced all further references to outside exploitation of this film).
BOTTLE ROCKET- [2.8] Annoying film. The characters are one dimensional and grow tiresome quickly. The plot is weak and I had a hard time getting a lot of the humor in the movie. Its much rawer, not as honed as Wes Anderson’s later work. It drags in several parts, and the writing isn’t as neat and concise as his future films. Rather unspectacular.
RUSHMORE- [3.8]
ONE-EYED JACKS- [4.3] Brando’s only directorial effort, and an incredible one. At first, I attributed the dark scenarios, unpredictable turns, and flawless characterization on Brando’s directing, but now I know that Brando was quite incompetent on set (shooting six times as much footage as is normal, and then coming up with a 5 hour cut). I know see that much of this film’s initial greatness comes from the brief touch that Peckinpaw had with the script, before Kubrick fired him, and then Kubrick was eventually fired and Brando took his spot. Karl Maldon turns in the performance of his career as a lying, betraying bank robber turned sheriff. Maybe it was the mustache, but Maldon finally felt like he was no longer just going through the motions, as I felt in ON THE WATERFRONT, but now he actually seemed as if he had some spark in him, some real human emotion. The fiesta scene where he gets trashed, along with his subtle shifts of attitude are very nice. Brando, of course, is exceptional, making Johnny Rio into an unlikeably likeable hero. He lies to women, cheats, steals, and plans murder, but he’s got a true loyal heart. The Christ-like resemblances are uncanny, especially in the scene where he is tied, cross-like, to a fence and whipped by Maldon, as his friends look on and do nothing. Slim Pickens and Ben Johnson also give great performances, and I was always kept on my toes. Where a typical western pic would have the girl succeed in sneaking the gun to Brando in jail, this film knows all the tricks, and subverts them greatly. The ending isn’t as forceful as Brando had wanted it, but it doesn’t matter. The whole film is a strong, compelling statement on mankind. Great!
PAT GARRETT AND BILLY THE KID- [4.4] Peckinpaw does a splendid job in creating the fall of the Wild West. He takes a genre that is stale and dying and injects it with 70’s cynasism to produce a powerful meditation on friendship, betrayal, good/evil, right/wrong, and the rise of 20th century America. An America that, like Pat, tries to outgrow its outlaw/criminal/violent beginnings. An America that is tired, and simply wants to work within the system and get on with its life. An America that struggles, but eventually turns on the very people that it was friends with for so long. The audience wants to side with Pat: he is now the sheriff, he is the criminal gone straight; we share in his confusion and determination. But we ultimately, like the boy who throws rocks at him at the end, hate him for what he does to Billy. And as the epilogue shows, what goes around, comes around. Pat chose the legal, correct path, but in so doing he killed himself and his spirit and his honor (hence the shooting of his reflection in the mirror). This film had a great spiritual energy, and emotional resonance. Slim Pickens death really got to me, and there were so many moments when I felt Pat’s agony over the new course he must lead. The music, distinctly 1970’s (its Bob Dylan after all) lends an ominous metaphorical tone to everything that was quite invigorating and interesting. Bob Dylan’s own physical presence in the film was also fun.
THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS- [4.4] Far and away Wes Anderson’s best work. Unlike his previous two pictures, which felt intentionally hip and ironic, this film seems to be a genuine statement by the director on families. The characters are real and played exceedingly straight, as opposed to Max and Dignan in the other films, two characters that seemed purely literary comedy and not invested with the crucial emotions to make them relatable human beings. In TENENBAUMS, however, Anderson packs each and every frame with details on people’s lives, the whole history of the family told in a rapid, entertaining opening sequence. Anderson’s style, which progressed exceedingly with RUSHMORE, is at its logical best in this film, with only one sequence (the strange rapid cuts during Richie’s suicide attempt) that feels forced and awkward. The emotions in this film take their time building, and while the laughs may be far fewer here, they feel more honest; instead of laughing at characters, I now feel like we are laughing along with them= this makes the whole viewing experience more pure and enjoyable. I actually found myself on the verge of tears near the end, when Royal is finally trying to be a good father, and Richie and Margot sit in their tent and talk (try to) about their true feelings. Its truly magical, revealing all the uneasy, bumbling ways we try to express ourselves. This is a beautiful film.
SUSPIRIA- [3.8]
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND- [3.8]
MULHOLLAND DRIVE- [4.5] Every time I see this film I glean more from it. Yes it is dense. Lynch makes some of the densest cinema of our times. Yet I do not believe it is, as many people charge, “pretentious.” It is, though, an intensely personal vision, one that Lynch himself cannot explain. Many people who do not understand the motivation of every scene in this film may be angry, because we are so used to having things tied up for us; we as an audience like confusion during a film, but we expect to be enlightened by the time final credits roll. Lynch won’t do that. His films demand multiple viewings. MULHOLLAND DRIVE is a wonderfully crafted mystery. The film’s structure heightens both the mystery and the messages of the film. Like most of Lynch’s work, this film focuses on dreams, namely the Hollywood dream. There are many clues scattered throughout this work, many of which I picked up for the first time on this viewing. Lines like “I’ll pretend to be someone else, just like in the movies,” “It’s weird to be calling yourself” (when Betty phones Diane), Rita won’t answer her name but calls out “Betty” instead, “Hi, I’m Betty” to which Louise answers “No, you’re not.” The humor is more sparse than in Blue Velvet and certainly Twin Peaks. This is more in the vein of LOST HIGHWAY but far far better. This film succeeds so well in that it creates a genuine mood. This film is a nightmare, and we are sucked into Lynch’s nightmare world from the very beginning and its almost impossible to escape. The fragile boundary between dreams and reality is explored and shaped in this film, and, though its structure is vastly different than traditional film noir, I would put this film high on the ranks of great noir cinema. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 9th, 2005|06:24 pm] |
come back to america, daniel.
i'm a wreck without you |
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| schoolie school yo |
[Aug. 30th, 2005|05:32 pm] |
vvwo bu hao. ni hao xiansheng? wo shi meiguoren.
chinese is the most intense thing ever.
i'm in the fuckin language lab now.
trash cinema to follow.
borders books is my bitch. my biiiiitch. i whip it.
i love trash cinema. tonight we're watching "eyes without a face" or "the horror chamber of dr faustus". it should be amazing.
vv
and then next week, andy warhol's (actually paul morrissey) DRACULA. so tight. joe dellesandro action. weeeeee
i'm really NOT thrilled to be studying wes anderson in my writing class. i'm sorry, but i DONT think he's a genius, a marvel of modern literary cinema. we have to buy his fucking screenplays too. bah. pretentious pomo. i'm just bitter i dont have cult fav movies. maybe.
long live fassbinder.
PETRA VON KANT!!!!!v |
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| i suck at life |
[Aug. 3rd, 2005|08:24 am] |
haha, everything is fantastic.
i wrapped on Threshold of Hell, and that was a great experience. got my card out to lots of people; and i think it landed me some music vid gigs. sweet.
i went camping this weekend, up in the Sierras, near Yosemite, went to this kick ass ghost town called Bodie, and this sweet place called Mono Lake. And we went hiking and killed hundreds of rabid mosquitos, all while listening to radio reports of the new outbreak of west nile virus being spread by mosquitos. goddamn.
then we went to the drive-in to see charlie and the chocolate factory. we tried staying for the island, but it was too miserable. we then snuck into the script's college pool and skinny dipping all around.
home, and i've been doing mad research into buying a super 8 camera. i was gonna get a 16mm at first, but those are so expensive and blah blah blah. there was one that looked cool, this russian camera, the k-3, but i think its wind-up, and thats fine, but...i dunno. i decided super 8 was a great way to start. i've been looking at the pricey, but amazing bealieu cameras. they are french and fantastic. and then some other cool ones, including an underwater one that is pretty cheap. and then i'm gonna stock up on the discontinued kodachrome 40 film (ebay!!), get my film developed at walmart for cheap (so goddamn cheap, and its a little-known fact, because no one at walmart even knows they develop super 8 film!!, its sent off to kansas to another company, and somehow walmart is just the middle man). ay yay yay, so much stuff to buy. ew. i want to be an heir.
oh, and i have mono.
like, the kissing disease.
like, no kissing my boyfriend no more.
like, stay at home and decay, as the doctor said.
but at least i dont have it as bad as some people. :( :( :( |
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| open bar= too much booze |
[Jul. 19th, 2005|08:17 am] |
its hard to say no to free alcohol,
especially since drunkeness is the easiest way to handle many gay social events.
since chris, one of my housemates, interns at outfest, the l.a. gay and lesbian film festival (which i think is the largest in the country), he can get us into most of the afterparties and screenings for free.
the first time i went, i got cheated because some sleezy older crusty fag bought my boyfriend a ticket and walked off with him, meaning i had to watch some awful AIDS argentinian drama alone. I dont want to talk about it. afterwards, we all drank a few bottles of champagne in the back and headed home. driving drunk on sunset is absolutely FABULOUS. perhaps a bit dangerous, but FABULOUS.
second time i went, it was Lesbian Pornocopia. We're talking bad,bad, awful lesbian porn. Like, I was fairly interested, just because its porn, but, um... why did every single chick insist on wearing a strap on? I thought women didn't WANT dick... sigh. IT made it look like the only things that lesbos can do is fuck each other with fake phalli. And the last short...was some waitress/space alien/ avante-garde mess of a porn with way way way too much incoherent plotline.
finally, last night, chris was able to get a bunch of us into the final evening gala (or gayla), which normally costs 50 big ones. we saw 'The Dying Gaul', which i kinda thought would suck in the way that the other films that i saw at the festival sucked, but...actually...it was pretty damn brilliant. i think i may even rate it a 4.2 . It's one of the best gay films, and still a great film for anyone, i believe. Oh, and it has Peter Sarsgaard and Patricia Clarkson (who are both very very good). You all might have to wait a while to see this, cuz it hasn't been picked up for distribution yet. But, it's well worht seeing.
oh, and then the afterparty, involving tons of free booze (hey, the entire outfest was sponsored by absolut!), gourmet snacks, and hot gays. weeeee.
i'm working on antoher film, btw. you all should check out the website at:
thresholdofhell.com
its called THE BEACH PARTY AT THE THRESHOLD OF HELL and it looks fabulous. it was shot last summer, and they ar ejust doing 2 weeks of pickups and inserts now, in downtown la. its fabulous, cuz its only 10 min from where i live, and i'm doing grip/electric, learning so much, working with fabulous people like the key grip (a wonderfully hot black dyke named Amazon) and some really funny actors. ah.
i think los angeles is going to be my home for a long time... |
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| dont be a hater, i havn't had the internet |
[Jul. 12th, 2005|01:28 pm] |
its been an intense few weeks; interning at fox sports, working gratis for 16-18 hrs/day for a feature film, having sex, jeff's fabulous visit, trips to scientology centers, art, reading, quiting fox sports, finishing one hundred years of solitude (thats a book, not the state of my life...not fully), getting depressed, buying medical marijuana from a crazy 60 yr old redheaded dallas actress, smoking tons, laying off the booze, moving into my new house, arranging all my stuff, having stuff get stolen, attempting but failing to cry, hating, loving, and the rest.
i'm not feeling much on details now. but here's pics!! oooh, yay.
my house. its lovingly called The Barn. every morning i get woken to the elegant wailing of the tamale woman, "TAMALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLES!!!", rolling by in her cart selling 6 tamales for 5 dollars. i bought some. tasty. i'll have to wash it down from the ice cream cart boys later in the day.
i went on craigslist, the greatest invention in internet technology. i have been applying for film jobs rabidly using that, also trying to pick up a free bookcase. in my searches, i found some guy giving away boxes of free vhs tapes, with movies from 70s-90s on them. he was giving away the tapes beginning with T,U, and V. and they filled up a box. when i went to see the guy, he only had WXYZ left. so i have a huge box and a half of vhs tapes, meticulously (OBSESSIVELY) labeled alphabetically with eveyr movie beginning with those last letters. thats a LOT of tapes. over 200. and the tapes are labeled with their corresponding alphabetical number (w tape 1, w tape 2, etc). at the bottom of the box was a cd, we put it in the computer, and it was a short film made by the guy who gave me the box, about his gf getting fed up with his movie collection and subsequently trashing it. it showed his entire apartment filled up with these vhs tapes, and he had binders of all the films he had, carefully categorized and indexed. it was so incredible. it was hard to beleive. especially that this film was at the bottom of the box that i had just picked up. SO POSTMODERN!!!
on sunday, we decided to go camping up at pt magu sb, n of malibu. it was a little bit of a drive, esp on pch traffic. damn the 1!!! anyway, me and daniel and katie and lacey spent the day there, drinking margaritas, laying in the sun and talking bout sex. weee
and this...this is my bf with his come-hither look
thats us up halfway on a giant sandune.
when i woke up in the morning (daniel never does. he's such a fucking sleep rat), i saw this beautiful sight. ocean fog washing over teh rocky coast. it was gorgeous. mmmmm.
and finally, just to make things more interesting, as we were cleaning up, we found several plastic bags of vhs tapes in the dumpster, along with stuffed animals and notebooks and photo albums. all conspicously stripped of any recognition except the intials 'TM'. all photos and notes had been ripped out/removed. it was so eerie. a lot of the tapes were deformed from sundamage, and reminded me of the fleshy living VHS tapes from VIDEODROME. weee.
ok. i'm going to continue doing some historical/literary research now. and then go watch a film. maybe have some sex. i love summer. |
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| some summer flicks close to my heart |
[Jun. 19th, 2005|10:27 pm] |
ALI: FEAR EATS THE SOUL- [4.1] Like Todd Hayne’s FAR FROM HEAVEN, this film is strongly influenced by Douglas Sirk’s film ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS, in which an older woman falls for her young gardener. Fassbinder shakes things up a bit, by making the woman thirty years older than the man she falls in love with, who just happens to be Arabic. Some intense interracial stuff, obviously. Really intense stares, we always see people’s reactions to Ali. The cyclical torture of alienation is addressed here, as we see Emmi rejecting the new Yugoslavian cleaner, just as she herself was ignored only scenes earlier in the film. And of course, the nobly depressing Fassbinder ending. The great thing one can say about this film is the amazing acting. The script of course helps the actors tremendously, but Emmi especially is perfectly played. Ali is a little stiff, and doesn’t seem to act much. This could either be the character, or a result of his being cast because he was Fassbinder’s lover at the time. Either way, it works. For a work with such long pauses, I was never bored.
I, CLAUDIUS- [4.6] “By the way, don’t touch the figs.” This is perhaps, most probably, the best tv miniseries ever made. Even though it was filmed in the 1970’s, for BBC, with fairly low production value, this 12 hour epic is stunning. The acting is top notch, from Patrick Stewart’s evil Sejanus (with hair!), John Hurt’s gleefully psychotic turn as Caligula, Derrick Jacobi’s miraculous aging as the stuttering, egotistical protagonist Claudius, and my favorite, the perfectly cast Sian Phillips as the absolutely wicked Livia. This miniseries plays out like the best tabloid soap operas, but with an epic historical twist. This is the Bold and the Beautiful, 2000 years ago. Intrigue is everywhere; there’s incest, corruption, assassination, drunkenness, revolutions, insanity, executions, and so much sex you would think it was the playboy mansion. The stories themselves are the epitome of trashy, and more interesting than anything you’d read in the tabloids today. This is a very informative and entertaining look at Roman life, and you will learn a ton about the Julio-Claudian emperors, even if not everything is true (the original Roman authors had a tendency to exaggerate and gossip). I was so hooked, I talked back to the screen, and a number of times was heard gasping, “oh my god, I can’t believe you DID that, ______”: fill in the blank with Augustus, Livia, Julia, Claudius, Caligula, etc. For a good time, check this out.
THE LONG GOOD FRIDAY- [3.6] Decent British gangster flick. Not horribly interesting, nor action-filled. And I had a somewhat difficult time completely following the story. Perhaps because it was confusing, but most likely because I wasn’t engaged enough in the plot. The acting is solid, especially Bob Hoskins as a gangster who just wants to be legit, who, like Michael Corleone, wants to take his mafia world into semi-legal capitalistic ventures. His character is noble, yet violent, likeable, yet ruthless. Pierce Brosnan has a pretty good cameo, and the score is terrific. Yet, despite all that, the picture never really moved me. Maybe I needed to live in early Thatcherite London.
SLACKER- [3.8]
VERONICA VOSS- [4.3]
DOWNFALL- [4.4]
THE OBSCURE OBJECT OF DESIRE- [3.8]
MEAN STREETS- [3.9] Fine Scorsese film, with lots of the energy and emotional intensity to be found in his later, more polished work. Its extremely raw here, which is part of the film’s charm, and also a bit disengaging. The dialogue is difficult to hear and comprehend at times, and the story seems a bit scattered and more cinema verite than his later work. The camera work is fine, but the soundtrack and acting are the most exceptional parts of the work. The music came from Marty’s personal collection and its all fascinating and unnerving for its 1950’s innocent sensibility and yet fits right in with the mean world of 1970’s New York. Deniro is fabulously crazy, and there are plenty of humorous, violent outbursts, laying the groundwork for the masterpieces to come. A flawed, but necessary film in Scorsese’s growth into a personal director.
BIRTH- [2.6] What the fuck happened in this movie? I was really set to like it, despite the negative reviews I heard. It sounded just weird and unusual enough for me to latch on, what with Nicole Kidman falling in love with a 10 yr old boy who claims to be her reincarnated son. But, uh...really fucking boring. I was never quite sure why the kid, who claimed to be the husband, had come back, other than to fuck with Nicole's life and tell her not to marry her new fiance. The kid was really annoying, but perhaps that was the character. Nicole is ok, nothing special. The plot moves along so slowly, and I never felt any sympathy for the people involved. Mostly, I just agreed with Nicole's family, that the boy should go away and leave Nicole alone. The ending seemed ridiculous, and didn't really clear up anything for me, nor even interest me. Fairly worthless, but maybe deserving of a second chance, just for the originality of it. So much potential...
BOB & CAROL & TED & ALICE- [4.3] This is truly the great lost 60’s gem! A sharp, clever script delves into the fears and soul searching of two los angeles couples at the end of the 60’s. While poking fun at the often ridiculous nature of the hippy ‘free love’ movement, which led to wife swapping and orgies among the elite and upper classes, who thought of such new freedoms as being modern and intellectually stimulating, the film manages to avoid feeling jaded or bitter. In fact, all of the characters are treated with complete sympathy, even though they are all flawed in their own ways. Two married couples don’t know how to behave in a stuffy, confined adult world, and must resort to the vices of the lower classes, drugs and extramarital sex, in order to discover who they are and how to live life. It’s a wonderfully amusing and emotional film. The directing and acting are top notch as well. While Robert Culp is a poor man’s Warren Beatty, he still pulls it off beautifully. Speaking of beautiful, Natalie Wood is ravishing. The scene with the therapist is more real and cutting than almost any I”ve seen on film. There are so many memorable scenes of banter, but one in particular sticks out: a surreal scene on an airplane, written almost as a precursor to what Woody Allen would do in his 70’s comedies, with Ted speaking in monologue as a pretty woman undresses in the seat beside him. And the great quote: “Ok…so we’ll have an orgy and then go see Tony Bennett.” A generation defining film.
CASABLANCA- [4.7]
BANANAS- [4.1]
FRIDAY THE 13TH- [4.1]
LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (1986)- [3.6]
SEX AND LUCIA- [3.3] With a title like that, and hot actresses like this film had, who would have thought that I would dislike it as much as I did?
DARK STAR- [4.0]
RIO BRAVO –[2.0] How can a film be so horribly overrated? This film was the definition of ennui. First of all, the cast should be magical, but the script doesn’t give them all much to do. In fact, most of the action is repeated for the length of the film, a whopping 2hours and 20 minutes! Whats strange about this flick is that, besides the primary characters, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else living in this town! The sets are bare, and ordinary folks are never seen. The dialogue and actions are redundant: Dean Martin getting drunk, kicking his habit, getting drunk, kicking it; Rick Nelson being on his own, joins the group, goes on his own, joins the posse; John Wayne going to the jail to check on the prisoner, going into the city, back to jail, back to the city. And nothing really happens!! The love interest is the most boring female alive. In fact, most of the characters are boring. There are no huge conflicts, and no one seems to really lose their cool. Everything feels too ambivalent. The only good scenes are whenever Ricky Nelson is on (oooh, that ass and that face), when Nelson and Martin duet on two full length country songs (“hey, nothing is happening in this movie, so lets just stick in 6 minutes of plotless singing!!”), and the scene where Martin shoots the killer hiding in the rafters. Oh, and Stumpy, except his humor was overused. This film solidifies my belief that I personally find great disappointment in classic Hollywood westerns. I like most styles of classic film, but classic romances and westerns don’t seem to sit well with me. I much prefer the grittier, more stylized spaghetti westerns to this. Or perhaps I don’t even really like westerns at all…
THE SECRET OF ROAN INISH- [1.0] Horrible, awful. One of the most boring films I’ve ever seen, with little to no reward factor. I had heard such good things about John Sayles. But then I saw LONE STAR, which is supposed to be his masterpiece. And then this childlike piece of shitttt. Perhaps I’m being unfair since I had been watching movies for 14 hours previous to viewing this thing, but I am going to stick with what I know. There is very little plot here, mostly just atmosphere. Basically, a little annoying girl hears stories from her relatives and then finds her lost selkie (somehow related to ocean seals) brother, who floats in little boat. The whole thing is annoying and pointless. My mind was about to self destruct upon viewing this trash.
RANSOM! (1956)- [4.0] Very strange film for the 1950’s. It is surprisingly realistic, with almost no musical soundtrack, making this tale of a child abduction earilly prescient. The script was unusual for the time, with very good dialogue, with little of it being dated or overly melodramatic. The acting is also top notch, with Glenn Ford doing a spectacular job as a desperate father. Leslie Neilsen also makes a fine dramatic effort. The film feels oddly like a stage play, with the house being the only real set of the whole feature. And this enclosed feeling works well for the audience to get in touch strictly with the father’s dilemma and emotions. The ending is odd, mostly because of its quiet tone, considering how unlikely it is. The boy just wanders back, is embraced, and the film ends. A satisfying enough resolution because the boy is recovered, but the rest of the mystery is left unsolved. Also, I can’t recall seeing a 1950’s b/w feature done in widescreen before. Usually its shot in 1:1.35. It just appeared strange to me, at first. Hm.
RANSOM (1996)- [4.0] While being an action/suspense thriller update on the previous, tension-filled drama, this remake still possesses enough good acting, dialogue, and story to warrant the same rating as the original. Rene Russo is better than Donna Reed, but Mel Gibson is no match for Glenn Ford. Because this is a Gibson vehicle, the father is turned into a powerhouse, morally upright (even though he is given a “character flaw”) dad who will battle the bad guys with his bloody fists raging. What’s interesting about this story is that it basically fills in the blanks to the original. While the most we ever see of the bad guy in the 50’s version is a shadowy hand smoking a cig, this new one basically becomes the bad guy’s story. I would argue that most of this film is centered around Gary Senise, the bad cop gone kidnapper. There’s some pretty scary stuff in this film too, especially when Gibson opens his email to see the video of his kid handcuffed to the ratty bed. Both this and the original seem too long, and Ron Howard, though doing a good job as director, failed to remove the script’s horribly cheesy fight scene at the end of the flick, where Gibson beats the shit out of the bad guy. It’s a typical Hollywood ending, it serves its purpose, but…its still kind of a cheap trick. (oh, and I thought it was very interesting how the score sounded so similar to the PSYCHO soundtrack. Just food for thought).
BREAKING NEWS- [4.0] Truly remarkable 7 minute opening, with one long take to capture an entire fight sequence: the camera glides around, cranes up and down, all very slowly, curiously, as we see the gangsters planning their getaway, the cops intercepting them, the battle beginning, cops getting shot, and the gangsters fleeing in a stolen police car. How Johnnie To managed to coreograph this sequence so perfectly is a feat unto itself. The rest of the movie isn’t nearly as remarkable, but does hold its own against many big budget Hollywood action films. The gangsters hide out in a huge Hong Kong apartment complex, and the cops, eager to win back their reputation that was tarnished in the earlier battle, decide to put on a show for the cops, instead of going in full force for the arrest. The power of the media theme is blatant, but well done. There are many comical moments, such as when the gangsters prepare a meal with their hostages and then leak video of them eating peacefully onto the internet. The police counter this publicity by ordering expensive lunches for themselves (“We have to show them cops are human too.”) and for the crazed paparazzi. The film is a bit long, and character development is strongest with the antagonists (I really knew nothing about the ‘heroes’), but still a fun, thrilling ride.
THE MISSION (1999)- [4.0]
THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY- [3.8]
THE LAST TEMPTATION- [3.9] Very entertaining, well acted, well written, and well directed movie. The big shocker is that it was a MADE FOR TV movie!!!! Yea, stunning. Linda Fiorentino is a knockout and really delivers a great performance as one of the bitchiest women in film (many complained she deserved an Oscar nod, but couldn’t get it because the film was not released theatrically first). She’s far worse than your classic femme fatale: she’s beautiful (looking a lot like Terri Hatcher’s Lois Lane), the best lay of your life, and also the deadliest. She thrives off of fucking with people’s heads. Bill Pullman was also incredibly fun to watch in his role as a drug-dealing doctor. I kinda expected this to be like BODY HEAT, and a lot of it was, except it was much colder, lacking in the character identification and sizzle that the other film had. This film was too cool: cold and impersonal, like the characters. Only complaint is that the Trish mystery/plot-twist was very obvious to me early in the film. But maybe ten years ago it was a bit more shocking/unusual. Also, the ending feels too abrupt and, even considering everything else, perhaps too far fetched. Some great lines: “There’s a black man here to see you. A BLACK man!”, “Don’t be afraid. It’s only a machine,” “I’m hung like a horse”/”Mr Ed, lets see”, and my favorite “I don’t do murder”/”You would if you loved me.”
NAKED- [3.5] Talk about having a bleak outlook on life. Todd Solondz holds nothing compared with this film. Every character is the epitome of selfishness and alienation. The only somewhat likeable character is the security guard, who’s sole purpose in life is to guard an empty space. There’s lots of mythical imagery here, apparently, such as the guardian of space, the waitress who represents Time, the woman with the death tattoo, and then Sebastian and Johnny, who are more like “hell” and ‘more hell’ than heaven/hell. One is upper class, the other lower class, but they both engage in the same mysogonistic, violent outbursts. They enjoy their sick mindgames and brutal behavior. However, Johnny is clearly the protagonist in the story, and we are meant to feel compassion for him, as opposed to the slick smarmy rich asshole Sebastian. But, I thought Johnny was an absolute prig. Sophie was a hysterical mess. Louise was rather ugly and boring. And Sandra was the most annoying figure in the whole film (finish a goddamn sentence, bitch). Some of the dialogue was very good, but there just wasn’t enough of it. For not really saying much about life (other than it sucks!), this movie was pretty long. And maybe it was because I could only catch 2/3 of the dialogue (I’m talking about heavy northcountry accents here), I couldn’t really keep my attention span piqued. The performances were fine, but they seemed a bit theatrical/cartoonish at times (especially Sebastian’s unique choke/churtle/laugh). Overall, not as good as the hype.
INTERIORS- [3.7] Woody channeling Bergman. Now, he’s done this with his other films, Annie Hall, Manhattan, etc, but here he does an exact replica of a Bergman film. Why Woody? I am enamored by Woody’s humor and this film lacks all of that. It seems like Woody did this film in order to be taken seriously. He felt like he should shed his comedy genius in order to be a second-rate Bergman. This fails for me, mostly because I find many of Woody’s classics to be on par with, if not surpassing, of Bergman’s humorless films. Woody manages to take the same themes of alienation and death and subvert them into a comedy that is both more palatable and more relatable. Interiors offers lots of good acting, but was rather slow and boorish moving, which, I must say, is also similar to many Bergman films. Strangely, the characters seemed to lack the richness and motivation of his comedies. They were well defined in many respects, but also too melodramatic. Woody comedies offer rounded personalities, funny and sad. This film revels in its unpleasantness. Mary Beth Hurt stood out the most, and truly shook me with the power of her voice and appearance. Too bad the rest of the characters didn’t draw from the same well.
THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE (1978)- [4.0]
ADAM AND STEVE- [2.9] Romantic comedies are bad enough, but trying to make a political one? Yikes. This film tries to infuse modern gay socio-politics into a goofy farcical comedy. True, some scenes are very funny, and even Chris Kattan manages to draw a few chuckles, but many scenes far very very flat, and the attempts at moralizing are out of place. Stereotypes, many of them true, abound, but are not successfully dealt with. Parker Posey is pretty good as a girl who can’t get over not being as Fat as she was 15 years ago. The two main characters, though…I suppose they do a good job, for what the script offers, but…their development is so weak. I bought into their whirlwind romance, sure. But when they all of a sudden break up for…what reason? And then they get back together just as quickly? I know the film wasn’t supposed to be believable, but I would hope for some credible character choices, to at least justify the plot. So-so comedy, but as an example of “gay cinema,” this made me a bit uncomfortable. Maybe that’s good. Or maybe I should see MYSTERIOUS SKIN and see a supposedly excellent gay film. Yea. I’ll do that.
FLESH- [4.0] Wonderful first installment in Paul Morrisey’s trilogy starring Joe Dellesandro. Joe oozes sex in this film, and much has been discussed about making Dellesandro the screen’s first truly sexually objectified male body. His nudity is flaunted about. The character is a whore, a passive man who is had by anyone who desires him. He wants nothing in this film. Sure he turns tricks for cash, but its not really cash he wants. He just gets the cash to appease his wife, but he doesn’t really like her either. Why is he doing anything? He just goes with the flow, floating through life in a malaise. Many people in the audience were turned off by the horrible sound quality, which included a loud POP with every cut, and awkward, fast splicing didn’t help either. But, clocking in at an hour and a half, I thought the film was done splendidly. It didn’t try to be pretentious and artsy. It was just made very cheaply, on-the-fly, and could very well be mistaken for a truly gritty cinema-verite project. The opening is spectacular, just a CU of a sleeping man’s face for about 2 minutes. Then, a sudden cut to reveal, simply and with more than a hint of intended shock-value, the boy’s full on naked backside. Throughout the film we see Joe more intimately than any actor. We see him erect, limp, posing, playing. Its his very nonchalance and lack of self-awareness that makes his constant nudity so fascinating. He seems to be completely unaware of how beautiful his body is. In one scene, he puts up with the rantings of an old man, who offers him a hundred dollars to pose in classic Greek positions for him to photograph and sketch. Joe listens lazily to the man’s lectures on the Greek’s love of the body, and how Body Worship is the only truly important thing in human life. It relates to every aspect of human behavior. Right after, Joe discusses hooking with some kids on the street. He tells him it don’t matter being straight or not straight, its just getting used to whatever you do. Then there is the fabulous scene with Candy Darling and Jackie Curtis, two very funny transvestites. They aren’t your typical witty, arrogant drags. No, they behave the part of two classy, subdued, bored housewives. They sit bored, flipping through a raggedy Hollywood gossip rag, while their stripper friend gives Joe a blowjob a few feet away. She then asks them whether or not she should get boob jobs, and if she should get silicone or a plant extract that some man told her about. Then there is the long silent sequences, both uncomfortable and relaxing, in which a naked Joe plays with his young child. Having a nude, sexy man with a young baby is quite strange enough for American audiences, but the quick jumps, in which the baby looks at a muffin, and then Joe feeds the muffin to the baby are fascinating. They touch on all sorts of issues, mainly what is masculinity and adulthood? What is the human body? Why is joe naked but his son clothed? Is Joe more liberated than the son because he has shed his adult suit skin? The ending, with Joe sleeping alone next to his wife cuddling with her lesbian lover, also touches on issues of male control. This film is such a man’s story, focusing and sympathizing wholly with male problems, and making women dumb/dependent/cunning cunts. What would a female film look like? Would a female be given the chance to make this type of film? Would she want to? What drives men to create certain stories, and women to create different ones? This film is a classic of the underground movement, and should be reborn again for a new analysis.
SHOWGIRLS- [3.9] Could this NC-17 Hollywood flick live up to the ridiculously camp height that surrounds it? If you haven’t seen this gem, let me offer some lines from the script: “I’m erect. Why aren’t you erect?”, “I’m not a whore”, “It must be weird not having somebody cum on you,” “I used to love Doggie Chow too!” and “I have a problem with pussy. I always have, and I'm always gonna.” This movie looks wonderful. Paul Verhoeven is a class-A man, and he has made a dazzling spectacle. Unfortunately (or, in this case, fortunately), the acting is just as horrible and ridiculous as the script. Elizabeth Burkley is wonderfully wretched as a whore who’s dream is not to be a whore but to be, come on, a SHOWGIRL!!! The black dance teacher, James Smith, has to be one of the worst actors put in a big budget film. He says every line with exactly the wrong inflections and with facial expressions right out of a John Waters film. Everything about this film is so deliciously wrong. If this was sold as a serious, suspenseful, sexy film…boy, someone was NOT sober. This has to be the most expensive camp film ever made. From the painfully choreographed elaborate dance sequences to the excessively gaudy costumes and sets, including Zack Carey’s backyard, where giant neon palm trees light up above the swimming pool. Kyle MacLachlan turns in another Lynch performance, only this time real sleezy. He can’t act, but man oh man, he pretends better than anyone I know! Besides having horrible character development, crummy dialogue, a lame 1950’s “STAR IS BORN” plotline infused with 90’s porn-sexiness, along with a ridiculous ending revelation and you have the makings of a fantastically funny film. Too bad the filmmakers and studio didn’t realize the potential of such a classy trash film. |
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| i hate sleeping alone in my own bed again |
[Jun. 13th, 2005|11:38 pm] |
everything has been so exciting lately.
i have a total schoolboy crush on this boy, and don't know what to do about it. I'm all scared he won't feel so strongly back, and for once i'll be the crazy, dependent, needy, stalker type. ewww. maybe he'll just like me back. lets hope.
i work at fsn west now. ie., fox sports. i watch all sorts of los angeles teams play games, and write down what happens, and help produce the california sports report. its nutsy. its starting to get fun (and i actually understand sports! kinda)
i just starting working on a film called 'cake' directed by will wallace, stepson of terrance mallick (director of the thin red line and the new world). its pretty rad. i had to wake up at 3;30 am and we had a 14 hour shoot. it was so nutty. i'm learning so much. and getting yelled at. lets hope i move up the ranks past production assistant soon.
um, i really really really have a crush on the boy. omg, i just want to stay in bed with him all day and never get out. ew, i'm so horrible. pathetic. gushy feelings.
i love my house so much. i've been spending all my time there. i cant wait to move in. woot woot.
the erotic film festival is this weekend. so pumped. hope i can make it to all the films i want to. i havnt been out to the cinema in a while (because of aformentioned crush).
wow, life is way too good right now. wow. |
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| upsetting |
[Jun. 6th, 2005|05:20 pm] |
""""The practice of male genital mutilation is far older than recorded history. Certainly, it is far older than the Biblical account of Abraham (Genesis 17). It seems to have originated in eastern Africa long before this time.5
Many theories have been advanced to explain the origin of genital mutilation. One theory postulates that circumcision began as a way of "purifying" individuals and society by reducing sexuality and sexual pleasure. Human sexuality was seen as dirty or impure in some societies; hence cutting off the pleasure-producing parts was the obvious way to "purify" someone.
It is now known that the male foreskin, or prepuce, is the principal location of erogenous sensation in the human male (see Anatomy.) Removal of the prepuce substantially reduces erogenous sensation.11,15 Therefore (in the appropriate cultural context), circumcision is revealed as a sacrifice of "sinful" human enjoyment (in this earthly life), for the sake of holiness in the afterlife.11
The Jews adopted circumcision as a religious ritual7,9,14,17 and preserved this prehistoric practice into modern times.9,15,17 The circumcision of Abraham removed only the very tip that extended beyond the glans penis.7,16,21,27 Moses and his sons were not circumcised. (Exodus 4:25) Although Moses apparently prohibited circumcision during the 40 years in the wilderness,14,17 (Joshua 5:5) Joshua reinstituted circumcision at Gilgal after the death of Moses.14,17 (Joshua 5:2-10) It is interesting to note that after the Israelites were circumcised, they immediately became soldiers in Joshua's army for the conquest of Palestine. (Joshua 6:1-3)
In contrast to the Jews, the Greeks and the Romans placed a high value on the prepuce.30 The Romans passed several laws to protect the prepuce by prohibiting circumcision.30
Much later in the Hellenic period, about 140 C.E., the circumcision procedure was modified to make it impossible for a Jew to appear to be an uncircumcised Greek.7,17,24 A radical new procedure called peri'ah was introduced by the priests and rabbis. In this procedure the foreskin was stripped away from the glans, with which it is fused in the infant (See Normal.) In a painful procedure known today as a synechotomy, more foreskin was removed than before and the injury was correspondingly greater. With the introduction of peri'ah, the glans could not easily be recovered, and so no Jewish male would easily be able to appear as an uncircumcised Greek.7,17,24
It may have been at this time that the Pondus Judaeus (also known as Judaeum Pondum), a bronze weight worn by Jews on the residual foreskin to stretch it back into a foreskin,7,17,22 gained popularity amongst Jewish males. This lessened the ugly appearance of the bare exposed circumcised penis.17 This restorative procedure was known by the Greek word epispasm,7 or "rolling inward."
The third stage of ritual circumcision, the Messisa or Metzitzah, was not introduced until the Talmudic period (500-625 C.E).7,16,22 In Metzitzah, the mohel (ritual circumciser) sucks blood from the penis of the circumcised infant with his mouth.30 This procedure has been responsible for the death of many Jewish babies due to infection.12 In modern times, a glass tube is sometimes used instead.
The Reform movement within Judaism considered circumcision to be a cruel practice.16 The Reform movement at Frankfort declared in 1843 that circumcision was not necessary.16,20
The Christians took a strong stand against circumcision in the first century. Christians rejected circumcision at the Council at Jerusalem.16 (Acts 15) St. Paul, the apostle to the gentiles, taught parents that they should not circumcise their children. (Acts 21:25) In a reference to the old practices of genital mutilation, St. Paul warned Titus to beware of the "circumcision group." (Titus 1:10-16)
The modern use of Hebrew circumcision as a medicalized practice dates from about 1865 in England and about 1870 in the US.9 The procedure accepted for medical use essentially was the Jewish peri'ah. Moscucci reports that circumcision was imposed in an attempt to prevent masturbation.14 Gollaher further describes the history of medicalized circumcision.9 No scientific studies were carried out to determine the efficacy and safety of circumcision prior to its introduction into medical practice,9 nor were any studies conducted to determine the social effects of imposing genital alteration surgery on a large portion of the population.
South Koreans started to circumcise children during the American trusteeship following World War II. The American cultural practice of circumcision became nearly universal in South Korea after the Korean War of 1950-52.23
In 1949, Gairdner wrote that circumcision was medically unnecessary and non-beneficial,2 and contraindicated because of complications and deaths.2 The British National Health Service (NHS) deleted non-therapeutic neonatal circumcision from the schedule of covered procedures in 1950. The incidence of neonatal circumcision in the United Kingdom declined sharply to a very low level after publication of this article after the procedure was delisted by the NHS.
America waited another 20 years before addressing the problem of non-therapeutic circumcision. The Journal of the American Medical Association published an influential landmark article by Dr. E. Noel Preston, Captain, MC, USAF.3 Dr. Preston established that there is no therapeutic or prophylactic benefit to circumcision. He also cited "undesirable psychologic, sexual, and medico-legal difficulties."3
Influenced by Preston, the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), in 1971, issued a statement that "[t]here are no valid medical indications for circumcision in the neonatal period."9 This marked the beginning of the end of America's infatuation with male circumcision. The incidence of male neonatal circumcision in the U.S. peaked in 1971 and began a slow decline that continues to the present day.
Recent History
The AAP convened an "ad hoc Task Force" under the chair of Hugh C. Thompson, M.D., to review the issue of circumcision in 1975. The 1975 Task Force reaffirmed the 1971 AAP statement.9 The Canadian Paediatric Society (CPS) also took a position in 1975 that circumcision is medically unnecessary.
The matter rested there until 1985, when retrospective data collected from U.S. Army medical records by Thomas Wiswell, M.D. seemed to show a somewhat higher rate of urinary tract infection (UTI) in non-circumcised boys. Careful examination of Wiswell's methods and data revealed many methodological flaws which rendered his conclusions questionable and unreliable. This created new controversy about the value of neonatal circumcision. The Canadian Paediatric Society examined Wiswell's data in 1989 and found it to be "insufficiently compelling" to cause it to change its 1975 policy statement, which is against circumcision.
The National Organization of Circumcision Information Resource Centers (NOCIRC) was formed in 1986. The mandate of NOCIRC is to provide accurate information regarding male circumcision, to promote children's rights, and to shed light on the medical mistakes of the past.
The development of new information in the medical literature since 1975 caused the AAP to revisit the matter of circumcision in 1989. A new Task Force under the chair of Edgar J. Schoen, M.D., examined new data about neonatal pain, behavior changes, and loss of sexual sensitivity secondary to neonatal circumcision. New data also conclusively established the role of the human papillomavirus (HPV) in the pathogenesis of genital cancers. This removed any lingering belief that the prepuce somehow caused cancer.
The Canadian Paediatric Society revisited the matter of neonatal circumcision in 1996. A new evidence-based policy statement was issued that strengthened its 1975 recommendation, stating that circumcision is medically unnecessary. The CPS recommended: "Circumcision should not be routinely performed."
The incidence of neonatal circumcision in the US has continued to decline, and stood at only 60% in 1996. In the same year, the Australian College of Paediatrics (ACP) reported that the incidence of neonatal circumcision in Australia has continued its decline to 10%. The ACP termed circumcision traumatic, a possible violation of human rights, and called for parents to be provided with full and complete information about circumcision before making a decision.
The Circumcision Information and Resource Pages (CIRP) were created in 1995 to provide a source of accurate information about circumcision on the World Wide Web.
John R. Taylor and colleagues published a landmark article in 1996 that described original research into the anatomy and histology of the foreskin. The research showed that the foreskin is highly innervated tissue with the characteristics of a sensory organ designed to provide erogenous sensation.15
The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) and the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), in a joint statement, reclassified neonatal circumcision from "routine" to "elective" in 1997.18 The change in policy was announced the year after the publication of Taylor's important article that describes in detail the injury inherent in every circumcision. This action removes any suggestion that circumcision is beneficial or that it is recommended by medical authorities. It may also be an attempt to shift legal liability for the injury that is inherent in every child circumcision from the doctor to the parents.
Persistent criticism of the obvious flaws of the supplemental 1989 Report of the Task Force on Circumcision has caused the AAP to distance itself from its own report. The AAP has removed its policy statement from its website. The AAP convened a new Task Force under the chair of Carole Marie Lannon, MD, in 1997 to develop a new evidence-based policy statement which was released in March 1999. After fully reviewing the medical evidence, the Task Force concluded that routine neonatal circumcision cannot be recommended because of lack of any proved benefit. It said that the benefits are "potential" (i.e. they are unproven).
The Council on Scientific Affairs of the American Medical Association issued a policy report in December 1999 that re-classified neonatal circumcision as a "non-therapeutic" procedure.29 This may have a medico-legal impact.
The ratio of boys circumcised to boys preserved intact continues to decline in America. In 2001, it had further declined to a ratio of 55 percent circumcised, while the percentage of boys preserved intact had risen to 45 percent.35"""""
http://www.cirp.org/library/history/ |
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| waiting to move into my house |
[Jun. 6th, 2005|12:57 am] |
its the greatest place ever.
the backyard is a jungle of junk. its like going garage sailing every day!
there is a cellar with shelves of paint cans and christmas lights and trees.
there is an old fashioned tub sitting against a background of overgrown plants.
we are going to turn one room of the garage into a dance floor.
best of all, i LOVE the subletters.
like, so much.
i wish they could stay forever. i can't wait to live with them. what a fun summer.
they are from clairmont, interning in la for the summer.
last night was a crazy fun ass dance housewarming party.
lots of sexy grooving to fischerspooner.
lots of loving.
jordon secore arrived, with two hoes, it was fabulous!
also, the subletters cleaned the house real good like. they have all sorts of nice paintings they brought for the walls, and furniture and retro tableclothes.
but nothing beat waking up with a hangover, and then all of us doing clean-up in our undies, and then making pancakes. communism only works with cool kids.
cest la vie, shitty apartment. welcome summer haven! |
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