Victoria

Free-spirited rustlings, attentive impromptu celebratory collisions, mirthful match making meaninglessly meandering, startlingly energetic Dionysian reciprocity, trending, inquisitively intercepting, a night out, a night out with restless strangers, immediate acculturation, Berlin, she's from Spain, works in a café organic, has to work the next day, talented artistic discipline, immersing, communicating, meets wild pack catches eye of one, they converse explore activate, through the streets on the roof, seated, swathed in inexplicable fascination, lives lived trust, a starstruck elegance, a flowering imprecision, cut short suddenly, suddenly descending into ruin, a favour, payback, high-stakes manipulation, demands indiscreetly delegated, crime, they must commit crime, no time to think, immediate reaction, Victoria (Laia Costa) saved to embark discriminately, she only understands Sonne (Frederick Lau), she's the driver, sequestered behind the wheel, they act acquire burn, escape, fried on adrenaline and amphetamines they crash the nightlife, reason rushing in, comprehension, awareness, coerced to desperately perform then crushed, incendiary largesse, despotic agency, consequences closing, unrestrained pressurized emergencies, stick together, trust, compensate, a gross underestimation necessitating one sole response assaults the beautiful with extreme neglect, gentility infused with reckless violence, souls tenderly humanizing warmth and compassion forced to willingly expedite the whims of a psychopath, what could have been haunting you for hours afterwards, the shocking juxtaposition's brilliant constant uninterrupted motion leaving an impassioned imprint on your overwhelmed soul, like you were there, like you took part, the immediacy of the style dominating your reflections and refusing to let go as you consider what took place, a cinematic triumph, as loving and innocent as it is ruthlessly expedient, its chilling naive aura, never to be forgotten.

Cinematography by Sturla Brandth Grøvlen.

Chappie

Violent aggravating hierarchical threats competitively embark in Neill Blomkamp's volatile Chappie, as a success story attempts to enhance his marketability through the creation of something beautiful, through the rearing, of robotic young.

It's not happenin'.

His child is quickly hijacked and then alternatively reared by desperate criminals intent on paying off 20 million in debt.

Instead of delicately nurturing his nascent creativity, Ninja (Ninja) prefers to ignite a trial-by-fire, consequently introducing him to a band of troubled youths, who then proceed to throw rocks at him and actually light him on fire.

The youth think he's a police robot, because his creator, Deon Wilson (Dev Patel), uploaded a humanesque consciousness into a broken down police robot, a part of a robotic police force he also created, young Chappie (Sharlto Copley), who remains unaware of these facts, and defencelessly terrified.

He does learn from his experiences though.

Which leads to a memorable science-fiction comedy.

The script's multifaceted (written by Blomkamp and Terri Tatchell), consisting of criminal and professional diversifications which populate the film with myriad characters at different socioeconomic levels, each of them given plenty of screen time to develop, as they pursue various goals before meeting for a ludicrous showdown in the end.

Solid science-fiction/action series are intertextually woven in, Robocop being the most obvious, but Chappie also acknowledges Die Hard, The Terminator, Predator, Alien, and Transcendence to name a few.

Ninja says, "Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!," at one point.

Chappie fires at the Moose in the same way Sarah Connor fires at the T-1000 in the final moments of Terminator 2.

When the hunt is on, movements are robotically tracked as if a Predator is stalking prey.

It's co-starring Sigourney Weaver (Michelle Bradley).

And human consciousnesses are uploaded to computers like in Transcendence. 

Transcendence wasn't so solid.

As Chappie comes of age in less than a week, a naive innocent caregiving sense of blossoming chaotic youth awkwardly contrasts the social horror show, the dynamics of which are simultaneously shocking and instructive.

The script has all of these elements but it still fails to impress on some fronts.

There are several characters given the chance to develop but they never really move past their first impressions, apart from Ninja, Chappie, and Yolandi (Yolandi Visser), who do change a bit.

And Deon buys a gun.

Ninja easily goes about acquiring the 20 million he needs to pay off Hippo (Brandon Auret), there's no sense that something could go wrong.

The thugs escape the police near the beginning even though it seems obvious they'll be captured.

Catch 'em. Let 'em break out. Make their escape seem plausible.

Cars are easily stolen and it seems like there's no possibility the thieves could be caught.

All this with a robotic police force patrolling the streets.

It's like hardwired explosive emancipated desperate largesse, highly structured to joyously refute the logical, with a thin layer of predictable rationality sensationally stitching things together.

It's campy.

So campy.

Sort of awful.

But still a must see.

You get the sense that there aren't a lot of public funds available to level things out a bit in Johannesburg, from Chappie.

The people on the bottom have no institutional means of moving up and earning a respectable living.

And the people on top have no means of preventing them from excelling at crime.

And are just as ruthless at pursuing their own respectable livings.

Nice to see fallible robot cops. I for one would prefer not to see robots in uniform.

It's possible that the lack of character development in the film directly relates to Blomkamp's brutal depiction of life in Johannesburg, meaning that there's only one dominating personality available, and if you don't embrace it, you won't survive.

Dog eat dog.

Unless you're brilliant like Deon.

Who ends up becoming a robot.

Because he disobeyed his weapons manufacturing boss.

Social safety net people. Public funds.

It's also possible that they partied way too hard while making this film.

Who knows!

Leviafan (Leviathan)

Isolated in a small town in Northern Russia, a man fights to save his home from a corrupt mayor, relying on an oligarchically inclined legal system, and a lawyer skilled in the art of public sensation.

He's lived his whole life in the town.

Grew up there, became a family man, it's all he knows.

He has personality, responsibilities, a network.

Remote plutocratic politics.

A voice, legal rights, Andrey Zvyagintsev's take on contemporary Russia, Leviafan (Leviathan), like the skeleton of a massive destructive unstoppable procession, religion sans spirituality, futile to fight back, take the offer, drink, drink more, from one historical epoch to the next, take reprehensible thugs and give them wealth, prestige and power, hold them in place with the threat of imprisonment, they'll do as they're told, don't find a middle ground between what things were like before and after the 1917 revolution, recreate the system that lead to that revolution, bask in its imperialistic splendour, lock things down for a generation, flaunt your might, and see what Hobbes gets you.

Trust was placed where trust was deserved, its betrayal ripe with spontaneous idiocy, 10 blissful minutes for the bored, a maximum security sentence for the innocent.

Innocence requires innocence.

Angelic quid pro quo.

The act provides the mayor with leverage, a solid footing, authority.

Opulent construction.

In the gently falling snow.

Starsky & Hutch

Starsky and Hutch.

Back at it again.

Although, this film was released 8 years ago so perhaps 'again' isn't the correct word to be using here, but, since I'm viewing it according to the dynamics of the ways in which the second decade of the 21st century is influencing my writing, the term 'again' can therefore be thought of as being applied appropriately, give or take that there's still a lot more I need to learn about globalization.

Much much more.

That being said, I still don't have much to say about Starsky & Hutch.

To literally break it down, it takes two psychological law enforcement extremes, one which is so anal retentive that it alienates everyone and is consequently regularly forced to find new partners, another with an approach that is so laissez-faire that it can smoothly make contacts and move about suavely but can't effectively get any work done, and slowly synthesizes them throughout as they grow and come to function like a strong resilient team.

Alternatively, in regards to its comedic aspects, I didn't find it as funny as I probably would have in 2004 but I may not have found it that funny back then either.

Cool car though.

Alright, I'm really not that into motorized vehicles.

Just trying to sound cool.

Fun to ride around in sometimes though.

I'm not cool.

SUPER

Some superheroes have vast financial and intellectual resources at their disposal which they use to champion justice. Others develop superhuman strength after having directly embraced science's unpredictable diversity. Still others are born with exceptional gifts for which they are ridiculed and ostracized by their fellow citizens. And others are simply nurtured by an alien land whose environment provides them with a permanent degree of invincibility.

But my favourite superheroes are regular average joes who grow tired of corruption's prosperity and take to the streets in a homemade outfit to distribute discipline and punishment with bluntly accurate precision.

Superheroes like SUPER's Crimson Bolt (Rainn Wilson) and his enthusiastic sidekick, Bolty (Ellen Page).

Crimson Bolt has experienced two perfect events throughout his life which have helped him to overcome an existence otherwise filled with depression and humiliation.

The day on which he helped a police officer fight crime, and that on which he married love interest and ex-drug addict Sarah (Liv Tyler).

But as SUPER begins we discover that Sarah has fallen prey to a local drug-dealing thug (played by Kevin Bacon) who encourages her latent addictions in order to steal her away from her loving and devoted trustworthy husband.

After complimenting his eggs.

That same husband decides it's time to fight back and save Sarah once more, and guided by the forces of instinct, love, and over-the-top Christian superhero The Holy Avenger (Nathan Fillion), he makes a red suit, picks up a wrench, and tells crime to shut-up as he bashes its representatives in the head with said wrench while wearing his red suit.

And playing by the unwritten rules.

As Serial Mom coalesces with Q-The Winged Serpent and becomes what Mystery Men should have been, SUPER psychotically delivers a sensationally laid back hard-boiled piece of cinematic mayhem, swathed in a deadpan frank ready-to-wear elasticity.

Not crafted for the feint of heart or those searching for technological hyperactivity, its comedic intuition and adventurous spirit still distill a universal sense of vigilante dexterity, as one short order cook rediscovers what it means to despair.

Shoot the Piano Player

Sacrifices which destroy the prosperity they engender. Dreams for the future challenged by the threats of the past. Petty jealousies destabilizing the security of the present. A struggling artist trying his best to avoid loving and being loved. François Truffaut's Shoot the Piano Player presents Charlie Kohler (Charles Aznavour) as he makes his living playing the piano in a Parisian bar. Waitress Léna (Marie Dubois) has fallen in love with him and seeks to resurrect his dematerialized fame. Initially content to continue practising his honky-tonk, the power of love reinvigorates his pursuit of something classical. But brothers and gangsters and reflections and passions stand in his way as he psychologically rediscovers the life he once flourishingly possessed.

Shoot the Piano Player's cultivated underground jovially analyzes universal materialistic themes such as marriage and commodity acquisition, deviously situating Truffaut's observations in scenes traditionally used to establish a predetermined variety of character and mood. The resultant character and mood he establishes is therefore composed of startling insights extracted from various experiential outcomes whose histories convivially salute the unexpected. The scene where the thugs discuss their material goods with Fido (Richard Kanayan) after kidnapping him is first rate. Minor characters are given room to breathe, Raoul Coutard's cinematography illustrates the compact social nature of a bustling metropolis, and dreams synthesize with desires to produce a productive yet troubled practical theoretical posture. Its mainstream narrative is full of stipulated thoughts concerning art, careers, and gender relations, stipulated thoughts whose content is romanticized by their underground foil.

Charlie just wants to play the piano. Other people problematize his plans. Léna reminds him of the concerts he could still be performing. His community reminds him that other people still desire Léna.

The Town

Ben Affleck's The Town is your classic intergenerational flick. You can rent it with an eclectic bunch including your parents and although few will likely be seriously impressed, many will accept its better than average character. It's subdued yet poignant, frank yet thoughtful, situated in an inner-city small town. Sort of cool how Affleck (Doug MacRay) falls for the girl he kidnaps after setting her free (Rebecca Hall as Claire Keesey). Liked the ways in which it cryptically and ambiguously emphasizes how people accidentally suffocate one another as circumstances dictate that they 'must' engage in certain actions, whether they're decent cops or Robin Hood, even if such an emphasis is paranoid and cynical (the internal consistency works). Affleck pulls off the classic complacent comeback performance, successfully portraying a character who never has to display much emotion, which makes it easier for him to appear accomplished since he doesn't have to take any risks. Jeremy Renner (James Coughlin) is provided with more of an opportunity to display his talent than he was in The Hurt Locker, and it looks like he may be around for awhile. Entertaining. The film subtly uses clichés successfully to present an appealing middle-of-the-road entertaining distraction, the kind of film you can hope that your friend with bad taste picks when it's his or her turn to choose a movie. A long ways from Good Will Hunting, but worth a forty minute walk on a cold, dark, typical weeknight.

Novocaine

While growing up in the 80s I was a huge Steve Martin fan, so I decided to give Novocaine a shot recently even though its reviews are predominantly negative. And it's obvious that those reviews are negative because Novocaine is simply to smart for its own good. It's well written insofar as its melodramatic presentations and pronouncements are consistently subverted by ridiculous subject matter that simultaneously lambastes and reconstructs several film noir 'motifs' in order to ironically elevate the whole kitschy kit and kaboodle. It's like director David Atkins is giving Martin the chance to make fun of the ways in which Steve Martin films were typecast during the 90s by allowing him to return to a more atypical role, like those from Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid or The Man with Two Brains. In fact, Atkins plays with mass conventions and characterizations within in order to reinvent and reinvigorate filmic constructions, notably with his police officers and femme fatales, thereby providing an unpredictable treat for the conditioned status quo, by destabilizing the manufactured organic link between characters and occupations. Which opens up the comedic spectrum and explains the vituperation.

Kevin Bacon's first scene is outstanding.

Animal Kingdom

Dialectically delineating the thin line separating criminals from officers of the law, David Michôd's Animal Kingdom introduces us to a family of professional malefactors as they tempestuously coexist with their surrounding community. The Cody family is fucked, although their commitment to one another, idealized by their cheerful and sweet mother (Jackie Weaver), is unwavering, assuming you don't mess with the cops. Josh Cody's (James Frecheville) mother wanted him to have nothing to do with her explosive family and remained distant from their activities for many years. But after she dies of a heroin overdose, Josh is thrust into their entropic den of depravity. Michôd's depiction of the police isn't any more uplifting as they shoot unarmed citizens merely suspected of crimes and make a profit off the fruits of their narcotics operations. The inhabitants of Animal Kingdom starkly develop intriguing personalities, Michôd's hard-boiled script and astute direction giving everyone involved the chance to distinctly stake their artistic territory. The atmosphere of psychological terror affectively cultivated by Ben Mendelsohn's psychotic portrait of Andrew 'Pope' Cody integrally structures the film's ambience. Animal Kingdom maintains a bizarre relationship with right-wing politics insofar as the Cody's are destined for prison while functioning as an iconic, albeit troubled, loving family. At the same time, while individual cops seek communal justice (Guy Pearce as Officer Leckie), the legal system presented is thoroughly corrupt. Josh must decide how to roll with the punches if he's to symbolically represent Australia's political future. A coming of age tale cloaked in a paranoid blanket of fear and tension, Animal Kingdom boldly interrogates the 'underworld' while offering a solution which does what it must to survive.

The Death of Alice Blue: Part 1, The Bloodsucking Vampires of Advertising

Really enjoyed Park Bench's The Death of Alice Blue: Part 1, The Bloodsucking Vampires of Advertising. It's creative, self-reflexive, energetic, well written, consistently comfortably awkward, intertextual, and hilarious. Several scenes exist as part of the general narrative while hovering above and developing an existential life of their own. Studying the innovative ways in which Bench comedically uses repetition should be high on the list of every up and coming filmmaker. Parts of the film even reminded me of David Lynch (particularly not generally). Bench's uniform and self-indulgently irresistible aesthetic effectively works with classics such as Re-Animator while moving beyond them in terms of depth and style. Overtly, it's as if we're watching an extremely low budget film with a terrible script, questionable performances, and "I don't give a shit writing." But Bench is well aware of these dimensions and he plays with and molds them into a scintillating, dark, jaunty cocked eyebrow, continually progressing and self-effacing from start to finish. It gets to the point where many of the myriad plot twists go nowhere but you don't care because what's happening in the moment is so compelling. There's no need for things to make sense or for there to be closure or an explanation or an explanation that makes sense. While the set is generally stark, particular scenes and random devices are meticulously and originally crafted, like a structural tribute to an engaging and unpredictable individuality, creating a wild, evenly paced, ridiculously sublime crescendo. Its desolate and superficial depiction of the general advertising world (and Raven Advertising's 12 cabals) boldly yet modestly calls into question mainstream post-modern cultural coordinates, while redesigning and elevating them in a productively haphazard and unconcerned manner. It's really well done and I was glad to have the chance to see it in Toronto theatres considering that it's Canadian and situated and shot in Toronto. Wish there had been more than two people other than me in the theatre but what can you do. Alex Appel performs exceptionally well, her multidimensional talent showcased in the same manner as the production design (long evocatively mundane stretches broken up by momentary flashes of brilliance [until the last twenty minutes where their powers are unleashed]), and my favourite scenes were those she shared with Detective McGregor (Conrad Coates). Production design by Anthony Morassutti.

The Harder They Come

Peter Henzell's The Harder They Come presents a non-traditional character study of an ambitious musician who tries to build Rome in a day. The character's identity is established firmly on the basis of contemporary action rather than personal history as he reacts to his culture's power structures audaciously. Ivanhoe Martin (Jimmy Cliff) moves from the country to Kingston, Jamaica, in search of a job. His only significant talent is musical and although he cuts a hit single, it isn't enough to pay the bills. Frustrated by having to sign away the rights to his music, he tries to distribute it on his own only to be stonewalled by the system's monopolistic designs. Underground jobs and retributive punishments follow as he tries to fight for a better wage against the fat cats who control the city. After shooting at both police and fellow marijuana distributors in the same week, he soon gains the notorious public image of reckless fugitive and cult hero.

Ivanhoe Martin reacts violently to the barriers in place concerning his personal advancement. Not content to sit back and let the idle few receive the majority of the fruit harvested by the ingenuity of the many, he takes on the system by any means necessary. It's fun watching a wildperson throw caution to the wind and stick up for his idealized rights, and since he survives, the perennially dispossessed begin to revere and love him. As time passes, those in control try to suffocate the network feeding and housing Martin, and the results are as actively ineffective as they are passively revolutionary.

Neverlost (Fantasia Fest 2010)

Chad Archibald's new Canadian film Neverlost reminded me of the Coen Brother's Blood Simple. There's a low budget, tight dialogue, scenes that would have moderately benefited from additional takes, and a deadpan cast committed to promoting and solidifying its aesthetic. I was immediately struck by the direct nature of the opening narrative which sees Josh Higgins (Ryan Barrett) presenting his daily thoughts. The thoughts are presented frankly with candour and this device can work successfully or ruin a potentially prolific film. As it unreeled, there were times where I thought things were somewhat to simple, somewhat overt. But as it continued I became enraptured by its cohesive uniform writing and direction which successfully harmonize two diametrically opposed narratives into an entertaining, thought provoking synthesis. It continues to improve as time passes and its provocatively ironic ending aptly complements the ambiguous dexterity competently utilized to compose Josh and Megan (Jennifer Polansky) (is Megan a bitch or is her caustic temperament justified due to Josh's lacklustre work ethic?) (it's tough to take sides with either of the principle real world characters which is a coherent sign of prominent writing). I hope Neverlost receives mainstream distribution in Canada (and the United States) because we really need to give more commercial credit to our homegrown cinematic talent (they do it in Québec, why can't they do it in English Canada?). A frenetic destabilized yet congruous analysis of love, marriage, fantasies, dreams, Neverlost demonstrates that sometimes there is no solution while highlighting the detrimental effects of escapism. Shot in Guelph, Ontario.

Inception

Dreamscapes contain valuable corporate secrets. Hidden within the depths of one's psyche lie descriptive vaults and tumultuous treasures which competitors ruthlessly seek to discover. In Christopher Nolan's Inception, Leonardo DiCaprio (Cobb) and a team of elite surrealists are experts in the art of extraction, an architecturo-scientific technique which enables thieves to enter the dreams of their quarry and learn volatile and valuable information. Basically, chords, chemicals, and a mysterious brief case allow a group of individuals to share a dream. The dream's form is designed by Cobb's architect while its content is filled with the victim's experiences. After the individual bearing the sought after information falls into a drug induced sleep, everyone else joins his or her dream, doing their best to avoid being detected by her or his subconscious (many persons in prestigious positions have trained their subconscious to recognize extractors and fight back). Extraction's opposite is known as inception, the placing of an alien idea into someone's subconscious so that it appears as if it was self-generated. Inception is thought to be impossible, but when a Japanese businessperson (Ken Watanabe as Saito) intent on breaking up a global monopoly offers Cobb the chance to be forgiven for his American crimes and return home to see his family, he accepts, and begins placing the necessary mechanisms in order (the individual is granted the opportunity to rejoin his community if he can effectively shatter a universal).

Problems: while dreaming, Cobb's diseased ex-wife Mal (Marion Cotillard) consistently appears, takes sides with the victim's subconscious, and attempts to thwart his efforts. Usually when you die within a dream you wake up, but the drug used during inception operations is so potent that if your life ends while dreaming you are cast into limbo, and you may stay there for decades while only minutes pass in the real world. In order for inception to work, you need to suggest the idea to your prey at three different levels. Hence, in the real world you are sleeping. In the first stage of the dream world you wake up, find the individual to whom you are attached, make the requisite suggestion, and are then forced to enter a deeper level of dreaming in order to make the suggestion again. While in this secondary level, one member of your team must remain in the first level and prevent the primary dreamer's subconscious from ending your mission. The process repeats itself until you reach the third level at which point it is thought that the idea has been planted with enough cohesiveness to undoubtably produce results in the real world. Hence, you need to be able to militaristically maneuver within a tailored dreamscape wherein you must also execute a precise plan requiring the coordinated efforts of at most four groups of resolute individuals. The defences against which you contend are determined and hostile and the environment in which you are situated is an organized chaotic psychological cataclysm.

Inception's subject matter is deep and skillfully crafted. The execution of the plot contains several well-timed peaks and valleys which dextrously establish an energetic if not schizophrenic ambience. It's definitely dense. A significant portion of the film unreels like a slick lecture but some of the principle points could have still used some more elaboration (why do the different layers of the dreaming have distinct temporal coordinates for instance [it would have been outrageously cool if Neil Gaiman's Dream had somehow explained this!]) . Nevertheless, it's pretty stunning visually and demanding intellectually, not only in regards to the narrative's hefty overt dimension, but also in relation to its tantalizing and ambiguous ending (stop reading if you haven't seen it), which suggests that the entire film was simply Cobb's dream, and would explain why he's the only character whose personal experience is manifested while inhabiting 'someone else's.' To create a work that has at least two layers of critically motivational depth in an exciting fashion that directly deals with issues of individuality, corporate politics, marriage, family, scientific exploration, globalization, and so on, while indirectly interrogating any pedagogical institution (for me the film's dreamworld is that of an educational structure's relationship to a political agenda and the difficulties of ever successfully planting a dominant idea in the minds of its rebellious students [one level elementary, then secondary, then post-secondary]) is exceptional, and Inception is the best Sci-Fi Thriller I've seen in a long time. A shape-shifting analytical delineation of the synthetic, Inception multidimensionally interrogates what it means to dream, while efficiently disseminating its controversial characteristics.

Very real.

Crows Zero 2 (Fantasia Fest 2010)

A vindictive gang war has erupted between two rival Japanese high schools in Takashi Miike's Crows Zero 2, after the former leader of Suzuran Sho Kawanishi (Shinnosuke Abe) is released from a juvenile detention centre. Members of the Hosen Academy come to Suzuran seeking vengeance for their murdered leader whom Sho killed with a knife 2 years previously (the using of weapons being forbidden in their street wars). But their pleas fall on deaf ears as Suzuran grants Sho sanctuary and pseudo-leader Genji (Shun Oguri) infuriates them with his insolence. Thus, the truce between the two schools is broken, and the divided Suzuran must do their best to prepare for the onslaught of violence eagerly and efficiently unleashed by the scorned Hosen.

Takashi Miike's expert directing immediately resituates us within the hardboiled world of Crows Zero, wherein respect is won through direct physical confrontation and one must be resiliently ready to battle. The plot is dense and each thread skillfully and intricately woven into its fabric receives carefully crafted attention. Genji must learn to lead if he is to defeat Hosen and Serizawa (Takayuki Yamada) reminds him that leadership requires more than a swift and precise knock out punch. Genji also contends with his Yakuza father whose defences he is still unable to penetrate. Hosen leader Tiger Narumi (Nobuaki Kaneko) runs a tight ship while keeping the renegade and limitless Ryo (Gô Ayano) in check. And after discovering the grave of former Suzuran student Ken Katagiri (Kyôsuke Yabe), Sho discovers that becoming a Yakuza is not as easy as he originally believed.

The ways in which Miike builds Crows Zero 2 make it an effective sequel as he successfully expands the Crows Zero universe's historical, cultural, and symbolic dimensions. Miike also doesn't forget that he's dealing with high school students and intermittently includes embarrassing coming-of-age distractions which effectively subvert the film's serious nature. Underprivileged students doing their best to get by, studying the only subject at which they excel, Crows Zero 2 salutes and ennobles the dog-eat-dog code of the young adult underground Japanese gang, providing their trials and tribulations with sincere reflection, while directly interrogating conceptions of masculinity. With original music by Naoki Otsubo.

Shutter Island

Condensing dream sequences, identity (de)mystifications, psychiatrical polarizations, and traumatic war related manifestations into a staggered, disorienting psychological thriller, Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island invigorates and interrogates the traditional detective film. Federal Marshals Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) are on the beat, sent to the Ashecliff Hospital for the criminally insane to track down a missing patient. Located on Shutter Island, this isolated mental institution is reserved for violent criminals whom Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley) does his best to humanely treat. Provided with limited access to the resources necessary to conduct their investigation, Daniels and Aule do their best to take advantage of organizational loopholes while restrainedly exchanging professional courtesies. A graveyard, a storm, witnesses living in caves, and a healthy supply of cigarettes keep their attention focused, while clues lead to questions followed by riddles and conundrums. Daniels's past haunts him throughout as he digs deeper and deeper, valiantly attempting to subjectively recalibrate his object. The heart of the matter harrowingly pulsates, as personal veins and institutional arteries enigmatically transmit their heuristic fluid.

Tough to craft a mainstream thriller that doesn't come across as hackneyed. In Shutter Island, Scorsese successfully infuses his subject with suspense while cultivating a paranoid, disillusioned aesthetic. Many of the scenes stand on their own and the coherent whole they eventually establish benefits from their gritty individualism. The paranoia is often moderately ridiculous and the dream sequences drag and would have benefitted from a more clandestine form of surrealism. The performances are strong, skillfully utilizing Laeta Kalogridis's hardboiled dialogue which diligently and effectively delineates their characters (Mark Ruffalo stealing the show). The ending suggests that means are more important than ends and objectively salutes tenacious innovative thinkers for attempting to remodel professional paradigms. But the ends are still distressing and I can't help but wonder if they reflect Scorsese's own fears regarding his attempts to rearrange the genre's conventions.

Boys Don't Cry

Finally saw Kimberley Peirce's Boys Don't Cry and was impressed by how many profound statements were worked into its gritty low-budget frame. You're transgendered, the majority of people surrounding you are not transgendered, many of them are hostile towards you because you're transgendered, and few are willing to listen and try and understand the cultural problems associated with being transgendered. Hence, things are difficult, maintaining a job is difficult, and making friends, keeping in touch with family, and being consistent, is difficult, if not impossible. Lies are necessary, depression is immanent, complications are manifold, and friendship is required, not only to help one deal with the psychological disruptions inherent in such a disposition, but also to firmly establish an enduring sense of normalcy. Because being transgendered is perfectly natural and any son of a bitch who goes around religiously promoting some kind of homophobic rhetoric in regards to such physiological features is an abusive, hate mongering, fucker, whose voice should be silenced, period. Such fuckers abound in Boys Don't Cry and the results are ugly. Peirce's film doesn't shy away from providing provocative evidence concerning the abominable affects of mainstream stereotypes, and precisely points out the reprehensible nature of normalized conceptions of the good, adequately illuminating whose ethos is irrevocably out of line.

Date Night

Meet the Fosters (Steve Carell and Tina Fey), a successful suburban couple comfortably going through the motions, taking care of their two children, and heading out for date night every Friday. Apart from the facts that they're rather busy, and their friends the Sullivans (Mark Ruffalo and Kristen Wiig) are getting a divorce, everything seems tranquil enough if not mundane and uneventful.

Until they decide to steal the Tripplehorn's reservation at a posh restaurant in the centre of a big city one surprising and uncharacteristic night. As it turns out, the Tripplehorn's (James Franco and Mila Kunis) are blackmailing a gangster (Ray Liotta) whose taken pictures of a politician's (William Fichtner) lusty nightlife in order to secure some much needed scratch. The gangster's henchmen, who are also policepersons (Jimmi Simpson and Common), corner the Fosters while they're finishing dinner and demand the return of their boss's philandering flash drive. After a narrow escape, and several spur-of-the-moment relationship related outbursts, it's up to Mark Wahlberg (Holbrooke) and the power of love to unconditionally save the day.

Or night, as it were.

The film's well done and I enjoyed the intelligent ways in which it intermingled the high and low. A lot of its script is concerned with a traditional, stereotypical, steady-as-she-goes marriage, but, if push comes to shove, that traditional couple is still ready to perform a live sex act. The situations in which they find themselves are plausible yet ridiculous, identifiable yet obscure, sordid while remaining wholesome, and fortunate if not predictable. It was still a little to straight and narrow for my tastes; however, since said tastes are so used to not encountering sprightly representatives of the straight and narrow, this straight and narrow film stood on its head.

With Leon (J. B. Smoove) from Curb Your Enthusiasm's sixth and seventh seasons.

The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans

Never thought I'd see Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant reworked and revitalized but that is what Werner Herzog has done in The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans. Opening on an heroic note, Lieutenant Terence McDonagh (Nicolas Cage) quickly proves that he is on par with Harvey Keitel's degenerate masterpiece, as he travels the streets of New Orleans using his badge to procure as much prurient activity as he possibly can. Things are complicated: a camera has been placed in the police department's evidence room, making it more difficult for him to obtain free narcotics; when a costumer assaults McDonagh's prostitute partner (Eva Mendes), he threatens him even though his political contacts are severe; he is suffering from chronic back pain, the result of his aforementioned heroic act; his gambling debts mount as he can't catch a break and his bookie (Brad Dourif) comes calling; a protected witness escapes under his watch and after ruthlessly interrogating his politically connected grandmother to discover his whereabouts, he is temporarily removed from duty; his relationship with his recovering alcoholic father (Tom Bower) remains estranged; and he can't find the means to put the cocaine dealing murderer Big Fate (Xzibit) behind bars. Certainly not the most family friendly film, The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans offers a pristinely nocturnal portrait of a successful substance abusing professional scumbag, shot through the discarded lens of an alcoholic looking glass. Deconstructing the traditional hard-working-by-the-book-master-narrative, it brazenly points out that corruption often finds its own rewards, while highlighting the nefarious steps that must occasionally be taken in order for justice to be virtuously upheld.

Surrogates

Jonathan Mostow's Surrogates reminds me of James Cameron's The Terminator insofar as they are both science-fiction films which express a paranoid attitude regarding post-modern technological developments. In The Terminator, we're exposed to a world where machines rule and the natural path has been thoroughly eroded (note that as it has become increasingly obvious that we are necessarily linked to technological advancements, the Terminator series has adjusted and in Terminator Salvation we meet a humanistic machine/human hybrid). In Surrogates, we're exposed to a world where the majority of people have purchased beautiful remotely-controlled androids (surrogates) to live out their lives for them; or, a world where people live out their lives on the internet after creating multiple ideal identities. Tom Greer (Bruce Willis) has a surrogate but longs to have person to person conversations with his wife (Rosamund Pike as Maggie Greer) who criticizes him consequently. Eventually, Dr. Lionel Canter (James Cromwell) (creator of the surrogates) seeks revenge after his son is murdered by a weapon which destroys surrogates but also bypasses their safety mechanisms and kills their operators. He's also rather upset after having been pushed out of VSI, the company he founded to market, develop, and promote the surrogate lifestyle. He finds a way to use the weapon to destroy every surrogate and their operators, and, after the worst antagonist/protagonist encounter I've ever seen, attempts to do so. Fortunately, Tom Greer is there to prevent the weapon from annihilating humanity, but, eager for a conversation with his wife, he still uses it to destroy all the surrogates, taking us back to a simpler time (i.e., before the internet) (the John Carpenter ending). Thus, the distraught individual makes a personal choice that collectively disrupts the foundations of his culture, a culture that had practically eliminated violence, crime, racism, and so on. I find it hard to believe that anyone could be nostalgic for that way of life and had a tough time digesting the ending. The internet presents a lot of opportunities and an abundance of information and I'd rather partake in its virtual reality than any of its preceding fantasies. I suppose Surrogates is saying that things are moving to quickly and we should slow down and reevaluate the ways in which the internet is permeating every social/cultural/political/economic/ . . . sphere, and the ways in which it is changing traditional methods of human interaction. This makes sense: I don't want to go camping with a laptop. But socializing on the internet isn't some grand disruption of the traditional order of things that threatens the ways in which we interact with one another. In fact, it broadens the social domain and provides us with another means through which we can communicate on a progressive social scale, while still continuing to have face to face conversations.

Sherlock Holmes

Enjoyed Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes. Within, Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) and Watson (Jude Law) are much more human than some of their previous imaginings, Holmes eagerly pit fighting and Watson trying to avoid gambling compulsively. Don't know what pit fighting and compulsive gambling have to do with being more human, but they certainly weren't borderline ideal. They are tasked with capturing the resurrected Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong) who is attempting to 'cleanse' Britain's parliament in order to bring about a new world order. Professor Moriarty monitors the situation closely with the assistance of Holmes's former love interest, Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams). And the conventional Inspector Lestrade (Eddie Marsan) rounds out the cast, providing institutional relief, beguiled brooding, and unexpected assistance.

The plot's complex if not a bit over the top and the intellectual action is constant. Holmes comes across as a scatterbrained aloof eccentric who acutely, succinctly, and charismatically solves every presented problem. The dynamic between Holmes and Watson is playfully professional, Holmes trying hard not to hold back, Watson unafraid to physically express his discontent. Adler adds an additional layer of brainiacness whose sultry suppositions intensify the film's sensitivity. And Lord Blackwood's a creepy, maniacal, lunatic, whose particular brand of insanity is rationally and reasonably displayed. A definite treat for both its brains and brawn, Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes will likely enjoy a prominent position in the Holmesian canon.