Boldly displaying the ugly dimensions permeating a culture whose social fabric is thoroughly racist, Tate Taylor's The Help situates us in Jackson, Mississippi, and demonstrates how difficult it was for African Americans to either express their points of view or hope for a better life within.
Not to say that it's any easier now, Taylor just situates her narrative in the past in order to mitigate the shock of investigating current pervasive racist realities, thereby making her message easier to digest while enabling it to reach a broader audience.
This strategy works effectively for the aforementioned reason but it also ignores the fact that there are still systematic racist discourses influencing sundry public and private spheres whose destabilizing affects are as vicious as they are subtle. It's not a matter of thinking that things were like that 50 years ago and they're fine in the present, it's a matter of reexamining the present in order to discover the ways in which racist attitudes continue to disable so that 50 years from now our cultures will be all the more inclusive, and so on.
The film presents an aspiring writer, 'Skeeter' Phelan (Emma Stone), who finds the ways in which her African American compatriots are treated revolting, seeing how their wages are low, there is no possibility for advancement, they are treated like slaves, and have basically no means by which to defend themselves. She seeks to disseminate their voices in the form of a book which collects and transmits their stories. This is no easy task due to the legal ramifications of challenging Mississippi's segregated society, so said stories must be collected clandestinely, pseudonyms must be employed, specific geographic locations cannot be identified, and during the collection process appearances must be kept up as usual.
Two maids, Aibileen Clark (Viola Davis) and Minny Jackson (Octavia Spencer), agree to share their stories at great personal risk and as the Civil Rights Movement intensifies many of their friends sign-up as well. The book is released, it has an impact, there's a happy ending.
I found one aspect of the ending troubling, however, in regards to the ways in which Minny is offered full-time employment with the Footes (Jessica Chastain as Celia and Mike Vogel as Johnny). Internally, the ending works insofar as Minny's career had been threatened by a rumour spread by her former employer and she now no longer has to worry about putting food on the table. But she's offered full-time employment within the same set of circumstances within which she was previously employed, albeit with a much more enlightened couple. Obviously one book isn't going to magically uproot and transform decades of oppressive practices and suggesting that this had happened would have made The Help seem somewhat flippant. But if the Footes had made a stronger commitment to trying to redefine things so that Minny didn't have to work as a maid for the rest of her life, thereby suggesting that they were trying to open up a broader commercial space for her within which her talents could flourish, The Help would have packed a stronger progressive punch into its already sturdy, innovative, repertoire.
The stifling nature of being any married woman in a culture defined by strict patriarchal gender roles is intelligently illustrated as well.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
30 Minutes or Less
Ruben Fleischer's 30 Minutes or Less is a well-crafted ridiculous summertime flick. Full of plenty of diversifying intertextuality, a father/son relationship to comedically rival that maintained between Braveheart's Longshanks and Prince Edward (enlivened by Fred Ward's machismo [the scene where he thinks it's funny that his son is trying to kill him is priceless]), a sharp examination of the concept of role-playing, witty banters exchanged between both pairs of struggling male duos, complete with different brands of particularized logistical clarifications concerning 'mature' and 'immature' approaches to life after 25, and a shoot out involving a flame thrower (brilliant), all wrapped up in an indirect salute to the puzzling benefits of living in a small town, it keeps the juvenile effervescence flowing abrasively and unapologetically, as it levitates towards its incandescent glass ceiling.
Anxiously highlighting the leveraged conditions of possibility, while playfully working within the master/slave dichotomy, the productive output of this individualized synthesis guarantees a destructive resolution.
Is this because Nick (Jesse Eisenberg) and Chet (Aziz Ansari) so eagerly and effectively became that which they had never considered they possibly would due to the imposition of tyrannical constraints, the force of the necessary malevolence which they are forced to distribute overcoming their previously established socially acclimatized psychologies due to the unforeseen consequences of concrete shock?
It's possible that this is what Fleischer means although the point is certainly up for debate. Other phenomenons such as sleeping with your best friend's sister and hiring trained killers are investigated as well.
Anxiously highlighting the leveraged conditions of possibility, while playfully working within the master/slave dichotomy, the productive output of this individualized synthesis guarantees a destructive resolution.
Is this because Nick (Jesse Eisenberg) and Chet (Aziz Ansari) so eagerly and effectively became that which they had never considered they possibly would due to the imposition of tyrannical constraints, the force of the necessary malevolence which they are forced to distribute overcoming their previously established socially acclimatized psychologies due to the unforeseen consequences of concrete shock?
It's possible that this is what Fleischer means although the point is certainly up for debate. Other phenomenons such as sleeping with your best friend's sister and hiring trained killers are investigated as well.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
L'amour fou
Examining the life and times of fashion designer Yves Saint-Laurent, Pierre Thoretton's L'amour fou lucidly injects a sober biographical sketch with an informative alluring amorous solution.
Within we discover a prolific artist prone to depression and substance abuse whose innovative vision redefined and enabled various voices. An avid art collector, he acquired a vast array of works over the years whose particular features were loosely situated within the specific temporal coordinates of a constantly transforming personalized aesthetic.
Much like Charles Swann.
Primarily framed by the accounts of lifelong partner Pierre Bergé, St. Laurent's trajectory is characterized by brilliance, success, and mental illness. Their relationship endures as Yves creates and Bergé manages, a stable juxtaposition of art and commerce which survives their passion's deterioration.
What Saint-Laurent achieved throughout his lifetime is remarkable, resulting from the ways in which he consistently reinvented himself while continuing to cultivate his insight. The film could have elaborated to a greater degree on the latter part of his engagement, his personal life and idiosyncrasies enjoying more screen time throughout. He's often portrayed as an undeniable genius whose only destabilizing lesions were self-inflicted. There must have been more controversy associated with his pursuits, controversy that could have been focused on more acutely than Bergé's role in his life story.
But the film's about crazy love, and Bergé's role in Saint-Laurent's success was paramount. L'amour fou only presents a brief introduction to their union, and although this introduction provides a significant amount of anecdotal refreshment, it principally serves to encourage further investigations.
Which isn't so bad.
Within we discover a prolific artist prone to depression and substance abuse whose innovative vision redefined and enabled various voices. An avid art collector, he acquired a vast array of works over the years whose particular features were loosely situated within the specific temporal coordinates of a constantly transforming personalized aesthetic.
Much like Charles Swann.
Primarily framed by the accounts of lifelong partner Pierre Bergé, St. Laurent's trajectory is characterized by brilliance, success, and mental illness. Their relationship endures as Yves creates and Bergé manages, a stable juxtaposition of art and commerce which survives their passion's deterioration.
What Saint-Laurent achieved throughout his lifetime is remarkable, resulting from the ways in which he consistently reinvented himself while continuing to cultivate his insight. The film could have elaborated to a greater degree on the latter part of his engagement, his personal life and idiosyncrasies enjoying more screen time throughout. He's often portrayed as an undeniable genius whose only destabilizing lesions were self-inflicted. There must have been more controversy associated with his pursuits, controversy that could have been focused on more acutely than Bergé's role in his life story.
But the film's about crazy love, and Bergé's role in Saint-Laurent's success was paramount. L'amour fou only presents a brief introduction to their union, and although this introduction provides a significant amount of anecdotal refreshment, it principally serves to encourage further investigations.
Which isn't so bad.
Midnight in Paris
Working within a light-hearted quaint sharply crystallized kitschy tradition, presenting thoughtful witty self-aware observations concerning creativity, Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris frankly endures its own self-destructive mechanizations as it simultaneously satirizes and elevates various philosophical/sociological/historical/. . . ical points.
Plus it has time travel.
Gil (Owen Wilson) wants to make the transition from writing screen plays to novels while daydreaming about moving to Paris. He trusts no one with his work, however, as he isn't yet prepared to subsume negative criticisms. He encounters a self-assured erudite slightly pompous handsome individual (Michael Sheen as Paul) to whose clarifications his fiancée (Rachel McAdams as Inez) takes a shine. Gil's able to interject the occasional colourful contradiction after travelling back in time to the Paris of the 1920s (which he proceeds to do every evening at midnight) and learning various facts about Hemingway (Corey Stoll), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston), Picasso (Marcial Di Fonzo Bo), and . . . first hand, facts which Inez is quick to dismiss because he occupies a less prestigious position.
In the order of things.
Travelling through time raises some interesting points, most of which have likely been mentioned before. Would the novelty of a 21st century kitschy work make it seem literary in the early 20th? Would the novelty of taking a writer and placing him within a 21st century manifestation of the 1920s seem literary from a 21st century filmic perspective? Would the novelty of a literary comedic 21st century filmic perspective seem incisive from an atemporal disengaged discursive non-committal self-reflexive perspective? Would an atemporal disengaged discursive non-committal self-reflexive perspective seem comedic from the point of view of a dedicated modernist cultivating a particular artistic market, working within broad guidelines, an aspect, in reaction to Victorian counterpoints?
Bears.
Hemingway's lines become increasingly trite as Gil's gain critical momentum. As Gil comes closer to situating himself within a burgeoning movement's jouissance, his confidence increases. As his confidence increases within the imaginary, his stability pleasantly deteriorates in the symbolic.
And he succeeds.
Is Gil the greatest kitschy-filmic-literary-atemporal-discursive-disengaged-perpetually-productive sprout ever?
Perhaps, although, with the passing of time, these answers seem harder and harder to ephemerally tether to a shape shifting transformative meteorology, within which moments coyly whisper, "by the light of the sickle moon."
lol
Plus it has time travel.
Gil (Owen Wilson) wants to make the transition from writing screen plays to novels while daydreaming about moving to Paris. He trusts no one with his work, however, as he isn't yet prepared to subsume negative criticisms. He encounters a self-assured erudite slightly pompous handsome individual (Michael Sheen as Paul) to whose clarifications his fiancée (Rachel McAdams as Inez) takes a shine. Gil's able to interject the occasional colourful contradiction after travelling back in time to the Paris of the 1920s (which he proceeds to do every evening at midnight) and learning various facts about Hemingway (Corey Stoll), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston), Picasso (Marcial Di Fonzo Bo), and . . . first hand, facts which Inez is quick to dismiss because he occupies a less prestigious position.
In the order of things.
Travelling through time raises some interesting points, most of which have likely been mentioned before. Would the novelty of a 21st century kitschy work make it seem literary in the early 20th? Would the novelty of taking a writer and placing him within a 21st century manifestation of the 1920s seem literary from a 21st century filmic perspective? Would the novelty of a literary comedic 21st century filmic perspective seem incisive from an atemporal disengaged discursive non-committal self-reflexive perspective? Would an atemporal disengaged discursive non-committal self-reflexive perspective seem comedic from the point of view of a dedicated modernist cultivating a particular artistic market, working within broad guidelines, an aspect, in reaction to Victorian counterpoints?
Bears.
Hemingway's lines become increasingly trite as Gil's gain critical momentum. As Gil comes closer to situating himself within a burgeoning movement's jouissance, his confidence increases. As his confidence increases within the imaginary, his stability pleasantly deteriorates in the symbolic.
And he succeeds.
Is Gil the greatest kitschy-filmic-literary-atemporal-discursive-disengaged-perpetually-productive sprout ever?
Perhaps, although, with the passing of time, these answers seem harder and harder to ephemerally tether to a shape shifting transformative meteorology, within which moments coyly whisper, "by the light of the sickle moon."
lol
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2
The final battle between Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) and Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes) has been materialized in David Yates's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2.
Lacking the need to establish purpose and point, this is a film that gets right down to it.
And right down to it it does get.
On the hunt for Voldemort's remaining horcruxes, Harry, Ron (Rupert Grint), and Hermione (Emma Watson), with the help of the conniving Griphook (Warwick Davis), sneak into Gringotts in search of Helga Hufflepuff's besieged golden cup. Having discovered it, they then break out, riding the back of a dragon, only to eventually find themselves back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ready for the final showdown.
The film focuses on Harry's pursuits as he searches for Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem and investigates Snape's (Alan Rickman) memories, and neither he nor Voldemort take an active role in the initial confrontation. Although, since Harry misses the majority of the action in order to hunt horcruxes, he arguably takes the most active and direct role possible.
Even more active and direct than Neville Longbottom's (Matthew Lewis), who steals every scene he's in and delivers an appropriately timed inspirational speech when victory for Voldemort's forces seems inevitable.
And shortly thereafter Harry springs back to life to face Voldemort head-on, autocratic versus democratic duelling to the end, the insatiable aggressor challenging the counterstrike of the momentum his voraciousness engendered. Harry's democratic counterstrike lacks the influence, resources, and bloodlust of their opponents but charges onwards nonetheless, the product of coerced ingenuity. As he faces Voldemort, it's as if two competing conceptions of Nietzsche's übermensch contend, one using cruelty and pain to solidify its response to its culture's perceived moral vacuum (the fascist response wherein creativity must fit within a one-dimensional frame approved by whomever occupies a corresponding position of power), the other enabling individuals to create their own place within that vacuum based upon the wisdom of the free choices they make in response to its sundry enlivening manifestations. It's as if Harry is the ideal superperson since he doesn't seek to rule or govern on his own, or have an invincible advantage, even though he could easily take advantage of his fame to occupy a prestigious position, preferring instead to work within a malleable system with a minimized degree of hierarchical structure which encourages creativity and innovation.
Many of the characters from the previous films make an appearance, even Professor Sprout (Miriam Margoyles), with Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) delivering some memorable lines. Love has been represented/depicted/rationalized/conceptualized/. . . billions of times, and one of its illustrations that I find the most endearing is that found within Deathly Hallows 2, in regards to Severus Snape, whose love for Lilly Potter (Ellie Darcey-Alden, Geraldine Somerville) is exceptionally motivating.
It still almost brings tears to my eyes whenever I revisit the related scenes and encounter their undeniably intense and patient beauty.
Lacking the need to establish purpose and point, this is a film that gets right down to it.
And right down to it it does get.
On the hunt for Voldemort's remaining horcruxes, Harry, Ron (Rupert Grint), and Hermione (Emma Watson), with the help of the conniving Griphook (Warwick Davis), sneak into Gringotts in search of Helga Hufflepuff's besieged golden cup. Having discovered it, they then break out, riding the back of a dragon, only to eventually find themselves back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ready for the final showdown.
The film focuses on Harry's pursuits as he searches for Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem and investigates Snape's (Alan Rickman) memories, and neither he nor Voldemort take an active role in the initial confrontation. Although, since Harry misses the majority of the action in order to hunt horcruxes, he arguably takes the most active and direct role possible.
Even more active and direct than Neville Longbottom's (Matthew Lewis), who steals every scene he's in and delivers an appropriately timed inspirational speech when victory for Voldemort's forces seems inevitable.
And shortly thereafter Harry springs back to life to face Voldemort head-on, autocratic versus democratic duelling to the end, the insatiable aggressor challenging the counterstrike of the momentum his voraciousness engendered. Harry's democratic counterstrike lacks the influence, resources, and bloodlust of their opponents but charges onwards nonetheless, the product of coerced ingenuity. As he faces Voldemort, it's as if two competing conceptions of Nietzsche's übermensch contend, one using cruelty and pain to solidify its response to its culture's perceived moral vacuum (the fascist response wherein creativity must fit within a one-dimensional frame approved by whomever occupies a corresponding position of power), the other enabling individuals to create their own place within that vacuum based upon the wisdom of the free choices they make in response to its sundry enlivening manifestations. It's as if Harry is the ideal superperson since he doesn't seek to rule or govern on his own, or have an invincible advantage, even though he could easily take advantage of his fame to occupy a prestigious position, preferring instead to work within a malleable system with a minimized degree of hierarchical structure which encourages creativity and innovation.
Many of the characters from the previous films make an appearance, even Professor Sprout (Miriam Margoyles), with Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) delivering some memorable lines. Love has been represented/depicted/rationalized/conceptualized/. . . billions of times, and one of its illustrations that I find the most endearing is that found within Deathly Hallows 2, in regards to Severus Snape, whose love for Lilly Potter (Ellie Darcey-Alden, Geraldine Somerville) is exceptionally motivating.
It still almost brings tears to my eyes whenever I revisit the related scenes and encounter their undeniably intense and patient beauty.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
CBQM
Circulating Fort McPherson's warm and friendly pulse, Moccasin Telegraph radio (CBQM) quaintly coordinates the life and times of this Northwest Territorial town.
Bustling with vitality.
Fiddlers, recipes, philosophical advice, casual greetings, and informal announcements grace the gregarious airwaves as the mighty Peel River patrols the landscape.
Director Dennis Allen uses his lens to affectively edify CBQM's nocturnal hearth, focusing on the dynamics of Winter's tight-knit internal gatherings, while expanding his focus in Summer to capture vast fertile surrounding expanses.
Traditional activities are showcased within as salmon are dried and smoked, and a resounding sense of history permeates the present as contemporary events pay homage to the past.
Nice to see the ways in which a radio station's personalities can package and distribute value added information, from the darkened days of Winter to the setting of the midnight sun.
Bustling with vitality.
Fiddlers, recipes, philosophical advice, casual greetings, and informal announcements grace the gregarious airwaves as the mighty Peel River patrols the landscape.
Director Dennis Allen uses his lens to affectively edify CBQM's nocturnal hearth, focusing on the dynamics of Winter's tight-knit internal gatherings, while expanding his focus in Summer to capture vast fertile surrounding expanses.
Traditional activities are showcased within as salmon are dried and smoked, and a resounding sense of history permeates the present as contemporary events pay homage to the past.
Nice to see the ways in which a radio station's personalities can package and distribute value added information, from the darkened days of Winter to the setting of the midnight sun.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Transformers: Dark of the Moon
The Autobots and Decepticons battle once again in Transformers: Dark of the Moon, one group caring for the future of humanity, the other, not so much.
Enjoyed the first act of the film as Sam Witwicky (Shia LeBeouf) struggles to find a job, competently dealing with the shocks of the working world while reservedly accepting that successfully defeating the forces of evil twice does not necessarily guarantee that one will find full-time rewarding employment. Nevertheless, he still finds a position in the mail room of an innovative company and proceeds to prove himself while impressing partner Carly Spencer (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley) and mollifying his ill-tempered father (Kevin Dunn).
Until fellow employee Jerry Wang (Ken Jeong) suddenly provides him with top secret intelligence regarding the Ark, a spacecraft which escaped Cybertron during its transformational Armageddon and proceeded to crash land on Earth's moon.
Reunited with Seymour Simmons (John Turturro), they then unravel a plot involving the stockpiling of pillars on the moon and the murder of many of the people involved with American and Russian moon missions.
It turns out an Autobot named Sentinel Prime (Leonard Nimoy) piloted the Ark away from Cybertron in order to ensure the Autobots's survival, but had really struck a deal with Megatron (Hugo Weaving) to betray them, believing that the future of the Transformers would pay more dividends in Decepticon hands.
With the help of Spencer's boss and Witwicky's rival Dylan Gould (Patrick Dempsey), the Decepticons conquer the earth and prepare to use Sentinel's technology to transport Cybertron to its solar system.
There are many quirky scenes that make the first act stand out, including the struggles of Alan Tudyk's character Dutch, awkward elevator encounters, and Sam and Jerry's discussion in the stall of a men's washroom. These scenes infuse the film with a catchy comedic sensibility that lightens the tension and disrupts the action, briefly, the sharp introduction of a distinct staccato which doesn't ruin the overall affect as it did in Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones (the comedy in a Transformers film finally worked for me).
The film also features the significant transitions most of the characters have entertainingly negotiated since Revenge of the Fallen, which, I suppose, is one of the principle points.
As if we're all Transformers.
Transformers 3's second act is primarily concerned with the Autobot/human counterattack and the momentum fluidly built up beforehand stalls significantly. I suppose if you have a constructed bountiful world that is then devastated it makes sense to ensure that its dynamic isn't present in the Decepticon aftermath. But it also makes sense to then build towards a salient climax wherein that world's productivity is brilliantly revitalized, and Dark of the Moon does contain a climax and its origins are revitalized, but the content used to fill this traditional form didn't exactly motivate me, apart from the quasi-rapprochement entre Simmons and Mearing (Frances McDormand).
Nonetheless, its saving grace is represented by how it presents the ways in which the right perverts "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few" maxim, by placing it in Decepiticon hands, who, basically want to bring their world to ours, or supplant Earth's culture with another, the imperialist few using their resources to destroy the longevity of the many, in the interests of the one, the dark of the moon (note the necessity of maintaining a prominent place for the study of First Nations culture within educational systems).
Enjoyed the first act of the film as Sam Witwicky (Shia LeBeouf) struggles to find a job, competently dealing with the shocks of the working world while reservedly accepting that successfully defeating the forces of evil twice does not necessarily guarantee that one will find full-time rewarding employment. Nevertheless, he still finds a position in the mail room of an innovative company and proceeds to prove himself while impressing partner Carly Spencer (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley) and mollifying his ill-tempered father (Kevin Dunn).
Until fellow employee Jerry Wang (Ken Jeong) suddenly provides him with top secret intelligence regarding the Ark, a spacecraft which escaped Cybertron during its transformational Armageddon and proceeded to crash land on Earth's moon.
Reunited with Seymour Simmons (John Turturro), they then unravel a plot involving the stockpiling of pillars on the moon and the murder of many of the people involved with American and Russian moon missions.
It turns out an Autobot named Sentinel Prime (Leonard Nimoy) piloted the Ark away from Cybertron in order to ensure the Autobots's survival, but had really struck a deal with Megatron (Hugo Weaving) to betray them, believing that the future of the Transformers would pay more dividends in Decepticon hands.
With the help of Spencer's boss and Witwicky's rival Dylan Gould (Patrick Dempsey), the Decepticons conquer the earth and prepare to use Sentinel's technology to transport Cybertron to its solar system.
There are many quirky scenes that make the first act stand out, including the struggles of Alan Tudyk's character Dutch, awkward elevator encounters, and Sam and Jerry's discussion in the stall of a men's washroom. These scenes infuse the film with a catchy comedic sensibility that lightens the tension and disrupts the action, briefly, the sharp introduction of a distinct staccato which doesn't ruin the overall affect as it did in Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones (the comedy in a Transformers film finally worked for me).
The film also features the significant transitions most of the characters have entertainingly negotiated since Revenge of the Fallen, which, I suppose, is one of the principle points.
As if we're all Transformers.
Transformers 3's second act is primarily concerned with the Autobot/human counterattack and the momentum fluidly built up beforehand stalls significantly. I suppose if you have a constructed bountiful world that is then devastated it makes sense to ensure that its dynamic isn't present in the Decepticon aftermath. But it also makes sense to then build towards a salient climax wherein that world's productivity is brilliantly revitalized, and Dark of the Moon does contain a climax and its origins are revitalized, but the content used to fill this traditional form didn't exactly motivate me, apart from the quasi-rapprochement entre Simmons and Mearing (Frances McDormand).
Nonetheless, its saving grace is represented by how it presents the ways in which the right perverts "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few" maxim, by placing it in Decepiticon hands, who, basically want to bring their world to ours, or supplant Earth's culture with another, the imperialist few using their resources to destroy the longevity of the many, in the interests of the one, the dark of the moon (note the necessity of maintaining a prominent place for the study of First Nations culture within educational systems).
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Shock Corridor
Just how far will one person go to win the Pulitzer Prize?
Journalist Johnny Barrett (Peter Breck) discovers an unsolved murder case and decides to engage in some psychological detective work of his own in order to bring the deceptive culprit to justice. After convincing a psychiatrist that he lacks sanity, his information hunt begins in a state mental hospital where three perennial residents witnessed the crime in question. Challenging his reason as he acclimatizes himself to life in the Shock Corridor, he discovers that when his clandestine lucidity is synthesized with a particular brand of patient curiosity, he can bring his troubled co-denizens back from the brink for long enough to unravel their valuable references. But his search is tempered by a mischievous and seductive mental quid pro quo that subtly reveals its malevolent intensity as he comes closer and closer to delineating the subject of his desire.
Through the passage of time.
Two of the three witnesses find themselves locked up because they have been unable to face the predominant homogenized semantic denominators that structure the social lives of their democratic communities, and have in turn embraced said denominators in a ridiculous fashion, thereby taking control of the means of production, subjectively situating themselves within positions of power.
One, while a prisoner of war, flirted with communism as a reaction against the bigotry that conditioned his family life growing up, and was given a dishonourable discharge after being exchanged. He was shunned afterwards and adopted the persona of an heroic confederate general to compensate.
The other, an African-American student attending a recently desegregated Southern University, was broken by the toxic racist sewer of white supremacy and reinvented himself as a grand wizard in the ku klux klan.
The third, being unable to handle the fact that he had helped to create weapons of mass destruction, reverted to an infantile state in order to forget the past.
Thus, in order for Johnny to solve the case and win his Pulitzer, he must function as an inclusive understanding open minded trustworthy citizen, thereby normalizing the activities his co-denizens engaged in prior to being committed in order to provide them with rational voices.
Unfortunately, Mr. Barrett was concerned primarily with winning the Pulitzer and not with capturing a criminal, and doesn't possess the fortitude required to individually combat madness's cloak and dagger, losing his voice in the process.
I think that's what Fuller's saying.
Journalist Johnny Barrett (Peter Breck) discovers an unsolved murder case and decides to engage in some psychological detective work of his own in order to bring the deceptive culprit to justice. After convincing a psychiatrist that he lacks sanity, his information hunt begins in a state mental hospital where three perennial residents witnessed the crime in question. Challenging his reason as he acclimatizes himself to life in the Shock Corridor, he discovers that when his clandestine lucidity is synthesized with a particular brand of patient curiosity, he can bring his troubled co-denizens back from the brink for long enough to unravel their valuable references. But his search is tempered by a mischievous and seductive mental quid pro quo that subtly reveals its malevolent intensity as he comes closer and closer to delineating the subject of his desire.
Through the passage of time.
Two of the three witnesses find themselves locked up because they have been unable to face the predominant homogenized semantic denominators that structure the social lives of their democratic communities, and have in turn embraced said denominators in a ridiculous fashion, thereby taking control of the means of production, subjectively situating themselves within positions of power.
One, while a prisoner of war, flirted with communism as a reaction against the bigotry that conditioned his family life growing up, and was given a dishonourable discharge after being exchanged. He was shunned afterwards and adopted the persona of an heroic confederate general to compensate.
The other, an African-American student attending a recently desegregated Southern University, was broken by the toxic racist sewer of white supremacy and reinvented himself as a grand wizard in the ku klux klan.
The third, being unable to handle the fact that he had helped to create weapons of mass destruction, reverted to an infantile state in order to forget the past.
Thus, in order for Johnny to solve the case and win his Pulitzer, he must function as an inclusive understanding open minded trustworthy citizen, thereby normalizing the activities his co-denizens engaged in prior to being committed in order to provide them with rational voices.
Unfortunately, Mr. Barrett was concerned primarily with winning the Pulitzer and not with capturing a criminal, and doesn't possess the fortitude required to individually combat madness's cloak and dagger, losing his voice in the process.
I think that's what Fuller's saying.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Picturing the Yukon
Providing a malleable definition for Yukon, visually encapsulating general and particular points of view representing myriad themes and subjective panoramas, Picturing the Yukon juxtaposes the traditional with the contemporary, the timeless with the ephemeral, introducing mythical reminiscences which qualify practical responses, historical reflections which quantify meteorological exceptions, lush narratives which highlight the fragility of fertile soundscapes, unacceptable solutions for problematic predicaments, whimsical takes on issues of race, an introductory tour of an iconic Canadian town, haunting conclusions gathered from plasticine neuroses, acute warm and friendly manifestations concerning sombre subliminal demarcations, coalesced environmental inspirations, and accidental transformational investigations.
A spur of the moment idea can forge something everlasting. Pervasive themes can particularize fluctuating universal sentiments. A myth within a myth within a myth.
9 short films presented in one disc by the Yukon Film Society, Picturing the Yukon stretches beyond the elastic boundaries harnessed within and without each of its individual visions.
A mosaic from which distinct observations clarifying or obscuring resonant attempts at delineating a multidimensional cultural wilderness can be detached, categorized, and rematerialized. From such detached categorical rematerializations a governing conception can be mercurially entrusted to provide a practical ideological motivation for a moment of general reflection.
A spur of the moment idea can forge something everlasting. Pervasive themes can particularize fluctuating universal sentiments. A myth within a myth within a myth.
9 short films presented in one disc by the Yukon Film Society, Picturing the Yukon stretches beyond the elastic boundaries harnessed within and without each of its individual visions.
A mosaic from which distinct observations clarifying or obscuring resonant attempts at delineating a multidimensional cultural wilderness can be detached, categorized, and rematerialized. From such detached categorical rematerializations a governing conception can be mercurially entrusted to provide a practical ideological motivation for a moment of general reflection.
Mr. Popper's Penguins
As I suspected, the penguins in Mark Waters's Mr. Popper's Penguins are very cute as they mischievously frolic and mingle. But the film itself leaves little to the imagination as it slips and slides from one happy-go-lucky scene to another.
As if they made this film for children.
Mr. Popper (Jim Carrey) makes his living acquiring real estate and in order to become a full-fledged partner must convince Mrs. Van Gundy (Angela Lansbury) to sell her Tavern on the Green, a family run restaurant and the only piece of privately held property in Central Park. Mrs. Van Gundy will only sell to someone possessing personal and familial integrity, however, and balks at his initial proposal.
Mr. Popper has not been very successful at raising his family and is currently divorced and none to popular with his two children. But as fate would have it, his deceased father has left him 6 penguins which are a huge hit with his disgruntled kids. As the film reels on, the penguins bring Popper and his family closer together as he learns to genuinely care for them. Yet how will these penguins effect his professional development as they wear down the hardboiled edge responsible for nurturing his commercial acumen?
The penguins themselves are somewhat magical, possessing intuitive humanistic gifts that accentuate their cuddliness.
Unfortunately the writing surrounding their shenanigans, apart from the opening scene and those involving Pippi (Ophelia Lovibond), fails to impress, and although there are a couple of moments within which Carrey displays his considerable talents, many of the lines with which he is supplied freeze his gravitational intensity.
For someone who makes a living convincing people to let go of their most cherished possessions, throughout the film it doesn't take much for him to be outwitted. It's fun to watch while someone who possesses considerable talents in one domain can't find an outlet for them in another, but you would expect him to be somewhat more aggressive in his personal life considering that such tendencies are responsible for his financial security.
Perhaps Mr. Popper's Penguins is saying that you don't have to be a sharp ruthless cutthroat to be successful in business, and that one's modest clever creativity is enough to enable their career related acceleration?
Perhaps it is also saying that the introduction of something absurd into a predictable yet successful routine can recalibrate one's traditional approach in such a way that they discover that for which they have always been searching yet never consciously realized they desired?
Perhaps it is also saying that when one's personality alone is not enough to garner the support of their loved ones, special commodities are required in order to speak to that which they have been indoctrinated to love more than anything else, capitalism?
Whatever the case, the film doesn't flow well and where you would expect there to be cohesive links fluidly encouraging a congenially frosty dynamic, its Antarctic pitfalls breaks up the progress, and only a cheerful, bright, occasionally endearing narrative remains.
I would have rather seen a film entitled Mr. Smithers and his Little Dogs, starring John Waters, where the hero and his 6 little dogs reunite a recovering morphine addict with a former prostitute through the power of puppy love.
It's only a matter of time.
As if they made this film for children.
Mr. Popper (Jim Carrey) makes his living acquiring real estate and in order to become a full-fledged partner must convince Mrs. Van Gundy (Angela Lansbury) to sell her Tavern on the Green, a family run restaurant and the only piece of privately held property in Central Park. Mrs. Van Gundy will only sell to someone possessing personal and familial integrity, however, and balks at his initial proposal.
Mr. Popper has not been very successful at raising his family and is currently divorced and none to popular with his two children. But as fate would have it, his deceased father has left him 6 penguins which are a huge hit with his disgruntled kids. As the film reels on, the penguins bring Popper and his family closer together as he learns to genuinely care for them. Yet how will these penguins effect his professional development as they wear down the hardboiled edge responsible for nurturing his commercial acumen?
The penguins themselves are somewhat magical, possessing intuitive humanistic gifts that accentuate their cuddliness.
Unfortunately the writing surrounding their shenanigans, apart from the opening scene and those involving Pippi (Ophelia Lovibond), fails to impress, and although there are a couple of moments within which Carrey displays his considerable talents, many of the lines with which he is supplied freeze his gravitational intensity.
For someone who makes a living convincing people to let go of their most cherished possessions, throughout the film it doesn't take much for him to be outwitted. It's fun to watch while someone who possesses considerable talents in one domain can't find an outlet for them in another, but you would expect him to be somewhat more aggressive in his personal life considering that such tendencies are responsible for his financial security.
Perhaps Mr. Popper's Penguins is saying that you don't have to be a sharp ruthless cutthroat to be successful in business, and that one's modest clever creativity is enough to enable their career related acceleration?
Perhaps it is also saying that the introduction of something absurd into a predictable yet successful routine can recalibrate one's traditional approach in such a way that they discover that for which they have always been searching yet never consciously realized they desired?
Perhaps it is also saying that when one's personality alone is not enough to garner the support of their loved ones, special commodities are required in order to speak to that which they have been indoctrinated to love more than anything else, capitalism?
Whatever the case, the film doesn't flow well and where you would expect there to be cohesive links fluidly encouraging a congenially frosty dynamic, its Antarctic pitfalls breaks up the progress, and only a cheerful, bright, occasionally endearing narrative remains.
I would have rather seen a film entitled Mr. Smithers and his Little Dogs, starring John Waters, where the hero and his 6 little dogs reunite a recovering morphine addict with a former prostitute through the power of puppy love.
It's only a matter of time.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Green Lantern
An ancient force of evil has been accidentally released from his secluded prison and now seeks the destruction of all. The only thing standing in the way of his vengeful assault on the Guardians of the Universe and their home planet of Oa is an interstellar police force known as The Green Lanterns. The Lanterns were created after the Guardians harnessed the green essence of the Emotional Spectrum of Willpower to forge fearless warriors. One of the Guardians attempted to harness the power of Fear as well, but was unable to manage its infernal malevolence, and it warped his once impeccable constitution, transforming him into Parallax.
Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds) is a test pilot on Earth, playing by his own rules and wary of responsibility. When Green Lantern Abin Sur (Temuera Morrison) is mortally wounded by Parallax, he expediently travels to Earth to allow his ring to choose a worthy successor (the ring being made of pure will, it possesses the ability to discover those who are pure of heart and have the mental fortitude to safeguard the Universe). The ring discovers young Jordan who reluctantly accepts its heroic demands and then travels to Oa to begin his intergalactic training.
At the same time, Abin Sur's body is discovered by the American military who then ask scientist Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard) to perform an autopsy of sorts. Little does he know that Parallax has infiltrated Sur's body, leaving his essence behind. Hammond unknowingly absorbs this essence and begins transforming into an apprentice of pure evil. After Jordan fails in his initial attempts to join The Lanterns, he returns to Earth only to discover that he must protect it from Hammond's twisted momentum.
And Parallax's, who decides to destroy Earth in order to gain enough power to attack Oa. And since the best of his fellow more committed Lanterns failed in their attempt to defeat Parallax, he must defend his home planet, on his own.
With the help of the power of love.
It's a lot more fun to write about what happens in Martin Campbell's Green Lantern than it is to watch. Many of the scenes are rushed and packed tightly together which results in wooden and scant character development. Increased depth of character would have helped its script differentiate itself from similar films like The Last Starfighter, by creating distracting personalities whose insights construct a world of their own.
The Lanterns also give up on defeating Parallax far too quickly considering that they're supposed to be fearless and number over 3,000. This allows Jordan to demonstrate that he is the ultimate Lantern, thereby working within the old "the greatest heroes are the ones who distance themselves from their profession while performing exceptionally well day after day" aesthetic, but I'm afraid that my will still has trouble manifesting this particularity.
None of the other Lanterns help Jordan in the end either, which supports the idea that individuals need to make it on their own, but severely limits the roles social networks play in one's professional development.
Green Lantern basically lacks the backstories, crescendoes, wit, and depth that has made so many successful superhero films, as if they figured they could simply follow the traditional formula without introducing compelling contemporary content, more of a banal commercial calculation than an entertaining film.
Enjoyed how the Green Lanterns function nevertheless, having the freedom to materialize their creativity at will in order to leverage innovative productive and practical solutions.
Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds) is a test pilot on Earth, playing by his own rules and wary of responsibility. When Green Lantern Abin Sur (Temuera Morrison) is mortally wounded by Parallax, he expediently travels to Earth to allow his ring to choose a worthy successor (the ring being made of pure will, it possesses the ability to discover those who are pure of heart and have the mental fortitude to safeguard the Universe). The ring discovers young Jordan who reluctantly accepts its heroic demands and then travels to Oa to begin his intergalactic training.
At the same time, Abin Sur's body is discovered by the American military who then ask scientist Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard) to perform an autopsy of sorts. Little does he know that Parallax has infiltrated Sur's body, leaving his essence behind. Hammond unknowingly absorbs this essence and begins transforming into an apprentice of pure evil. After Jordan fails in his initial attempts to join The Lanterns, he returns to Earth only to discover that he must protect it from Hammond's twisted momentum.
And Parallax's, who decides to destroy Earth in order to gain enough power to attack Oa. And since the best of his fellow more committed Lanterns failed in their attempt to defeat Parallax, he must defend his home planet, on his own.
With the help of the power of love.
It's a lot more fun to write about what happens in Martin Campbell's Green Lantern than it is to watch. Many of the scenes are rushed and packed tightly together which results in wooden and scant character development. Increased depth of character would have helped its script differentiate itself from similar films like The Last Starfighter, by creating distracting personalities whose insights construct a world of their own.
The Lanterns also give up on defeating Parallax far too quickly considering that they're supposed to be fearless and number over 3,000. This allows Jordan to demonstrate that he is the ultimate Lantern, thereby working within the old "the greatest heroes are the ones who distance themselves from their profession while performing exceptionally well day after day" aesthetic, but I'm afraid that my will still has trouble manifesting this particularity.
None of the other Lanterns help Jordan in the end either, which supports the idea that individuals need to make it on their own, but severely limits the roles social networks play in one's professional development.
Green Lantern basically lacks the backstories, crescendoes, wit, and depth that has made so many successful superhero films, as if they figured they could simply follow the traditional formula without introducing compelling contemporary content, more of a banal commercial calculation than an entertaining film.
Enjoyed how the Green Lanterns function nevertheless, having the freedom to materialize their creativity at will in order to leverage innovative productive and practical solutions.
Sans toit ni loi (Vagabond)
Drifting through the French countryside, Mona Bergeron (Sandrine Bonnaire) moves from place to place in search of a comfortable semantic translation. Unhappy working as a secretary, she sets out in search of a boss or a situation to whom/which she can easily relate. Refusing to accept anything else, dire circumstances occasionally present themselves to which she must spontaneously adjust. The acceptance of such adjustments produces a feisty tranquillity as she discovers sundry existential qualifiers from which she creates an ontological work in progress.
Agnès Varda presents Mona's story through a series of flashbacks from the final days of her life. She encounters a colourful cast of characters who offer advice and opportunities while reflecting on that/those presented by her bohemian lifestyle. A random cross-section of French culture is thereby curiously and interrogatively investigated as particularized observations are freely illuminated. Sans toit ni loi (Vagabond) lets its narrative subjectively moralize from multidimensional points of view without offering direct overarching evaluations.
The highs and lows of a transient lifestyle are mediated within as Mona consistently transforms from subject to object while remaining committed to her chosen path.
The film itself is in constant motion as ideas, constructs, and conceptions are tethered, liberated, confined, and released.
Agnès Varda presents Mona's story through a series of flashbacks from the final days of her life. She encounters a colourful cast of characters who offer advice and opportunities while reflecting on that/those presented by her bohemian lifestyle. A random cross-section of French culture is thereby curiously and interrogatively investigated as particularized observations are freely illuminated. Sans toit ni loi (Vagabond) lets its narrative subjectively moralize from multidimensional points of view without offering direct overarching evaluations.
The highs and lows of a transient lifestyle are mediated within as Mona consistently transforms from subject to object while remaining committed to her chosen path.
The film itself is in constant motion as ideas, constructs, and conceptions are tethered, liberated, confined, and released.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Super 8
An exploratory mission crash lands in hostile territory. Detained then imprisoned, an adventurer is ruthlessly analyzed. One dissident voice seeks his or her freedom. Aided by a group of film making youths after sacrificing his life for socialized synchronies, his mission miraculously proceeds as they do everything within their power to combat their imperialist foes.
J.J. Abrams's Super 8 fictionalizes xenophobic agendas in order to symbolically expose their misguided agencies. Within, the exclusive factor seeks to know the other in order to capitalize on its difference through recourse to carcinogenic means. Secrets which likely would have been eagerly shared if a framework had been in place to encourage their dissemination are therefore resolutely withheld, and a progressive exchange of ideas is transformed into a bloodthirsty polemic.
The resistance proceeds unabated, breaking through manufactured manifests to pursue a personalized mission which becomes cultural after previously classified information materializes.
Friendships are tested as unforeseen circumstances and desires challenge their historical order of things.
The pursuit of love accidentally precipitates justice as modesty, courage, and wisdom are enlisted.
J.J. Abrams's Super 8 fictionalizes xenophobic agendas in order to symbolically expose their misguided agencies. Within, the exclusive factor seeks to know the other in order to capitalize on its difference through recourse to carcinogenic means. Secrets which likely would have been eagerly shared if a framework had been in place to encourage their dissemination are therefore resolutely withheld, and a progressive exchange of ideas is transformed into a bloodthirsty polemic.
The resistance proceeds unabated, breaking through manufactured manifests to pursue a personalized mission which becomes cultural after previously classified information materializes.
Friendships are tested as unforeseen circumstances and desires challenge their historical order of things.
The pursuit of love accidentally precipitates justice as modesty, courage, and wisdom are enlisted.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Death at a Funeral
Everything that possibly can go wrong will go wrong.
Bring on the airing of grievances.
Take a walk in the park, take a Valium pill.
Nothing brings a family closer together than a little blackmail.
A father has died and a funeral has been arranged. Friends and family are scheduled to arrive. Personal motivations have piqued ambitious interests. The reverend hopes to depart at 3 o'clock sharp.
Hallucinogenic drugs have accidentally been introduced. An affair has been brought to light. An appropriate time to express one's romantic longings is passing by. Solutions are expediently distilled.
Frank Oz's Death at a Funeral lightly presents intergenerational tensions, sibling rivalries, progressive structures, and scatological sentiments. Historical details are used sparingly to support present actions. The principle subject lies motionless and rarely becomes the object of analysis. Anxiety and awkwardness brazenly duel as an afternoon's solemnity is feverishly deconstructed.
Indirectly suggesting that without the influence of one man's protective guise a family's prosperity is in pedantic jeopardy, thereby functioning as a formulaic exemplar of transition, Death at a Funeral symbolically externalizes emotions such as grief and gives them plenty of room to transmute. Consistently juxtaposing the petty and the poignant while delegating comedic insight with a sober intensity, it will certainly cause you to shake your head more than once as you helplessly and cheerfully ask the question, "why?"
Bring on the airing of grievances.
Take a walk in the park, take a Valium pill.
Nothing brings a family closer together than a little blackmail.
A father has died and a funeral has been arranged. Friends and family are scheduled to arrive. Personal motivations have piqued ambitious interests. The reverend hopes to depart at 3 o'clock sharp.
Hallucinogenic drugs have accidentally been introduced. An affair has been brought to light. An appropriate time to express one's romantic longings is passing by. Solutions are expediently distilled.
Frank Oz's Death at a Funeral lightly presents intergenerational tensions, sibling rivalries, progressive structures, and scatological sentiments. Historical details are used sparingly to support present actions. The principle subject lies motionless and rarely becomes the object of analysis. Anxiety and awkwardness brazenly duel as an afternoon's solemnity is feverishly deconstructed.
Indirectly suggesting that without the influence of one man's protective guise a family's prosperity is in pedantic jeopardy, thereby functioning as a formulaic exemplar of transition, Death at a Funeral symbolically externalizes emotions such as grief and gives them plenty of room to transmute. Consistently juxtaposing the petty and the poignant while delegating comedic insight with a sober intensity, it will certainly cause you to shake your head more than once as you helplessly and cheerfully ask the question, "why?"
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Couch Trip
Some solid ideas are in place.
John W. Burns, Jr. (Dan Aykroyd) is causing trouble for his lacklustre psychiatrist, Lawrence Baird (David Clennon). But just as he is about to be transferred back to prison, he intercepts a phone call offering Baird a position as a psychological radio host in Los Angeles, sitting in for one George Maitlin (Charles Grodin), which he promptly accepts. All he needs to do is escape from the ward, fly to LA, convince a shrewd lawyer that he is a trained professional, and dispense beneficial practical wisdom live with the electric confidence of a warm and friendly person of the people. But before he can get his act in place, another individual with a somewhat skewed relationship with 1980s socio-cultural sublimations catches instinctual wind of his former identity (Walter Matthau as Donald Becker), and decides that it's time to cash in on his disenfranchised observations as well.
The Couch Trip's form is well thought out. If I was in charge of deciding which pitches receive the opportunity to be fleshed out whimsically I definitely would have given that for the The Couch Trip the green light. But unfortunately, while gathering critical creative support, unable to sustain the potential of its expectations, it ironically suffers a nervous breakdown, from which it rarely recovers.
When you have an over-the-top idea which requires a sharp degree of energetic immediacy, one impossible situation to overcome after another, the ways in which that energetic immediacy is galvanized must be sensationally plausible while seeming run of the mill. And The Couch Trip's script, boldly defended by Dan Aykroyd, lacks the wherewithal needed to project even a paltry degree of plausibility, and therefore only transmits a mediocre current.
Walter Matthau does save the day from time to time, and the script is deep, establishing multiple subplots and providing several characters with room to flow. But the material with which said characters are provided falls consistently flat, and although the idea of John W. Burns, Jr. works for me on every level, the predicates and commentaries used to build up his rhetorical flexibility do not, at least in terms of making a film entertaining.
John W. Burns, Jr. (Dan Aykroyd) is causing trouble for his lacklustre psychiatrist, Lawrence Baird (David Clennon). But just as he is about to be transferred back to prison, he intercepts a phone call offering Baird a position as a psychological radio host in Los Angeles, sitting in for one George Maitlin (Charles Grodin), which he promptly accepts. All he needs to do is escape from the ward, fly to LA, convince a shrewd lawyer that he is a trained professional, and dispense beneficial practical wisdom live with the electric confidence of a warm and friendly person of the people. But before he can get his act in place, another individual with a somewhat skewed relationship with 1980s socio-cultural sublimations catches instinctual wind of his former identity (Walter Matthau as Donald Becker), and decides that it's time to cash in on his disenfranchised observations as well.
The Couch Trip's form is well thought out. If I was in charge of deciding which pitches receive the opportunity to be fleshed out whimsically I definitely would have given that for the The Couch Trip the green light. But unfortunately, while gathering critical creative support, unable to sustain the potential of its expectations, it ironically suffers a nervous breakdown, from which it rarely recovers.
When you have an over-the-top idea which requires a sharp degree of energetic immediacy, one impossible situation to overcome after another, the ways in which that energetic immediacy is galvanized must be sensationally plausible while seeming run of the mill. And The Couch Trip's script, boldly defended by Dan Aykroyd, lacks the wherewithal needed to project even a paltry degree of plausibility, and therefore only transmits a mediocre current.
Walter Matthau does save the day from time to time, and the script is deep, establishing multiple subplots and providing several characters with room to flow. But the material with which said characters are provided falls consistently flat, and although the idea of John W. Burns, Jr. works for me on every level, the predicates and commentaries used to build up his rhetorical flexibility do not, at least in terms of making a film entertaining.
X-Men: First Class
As different childhoods produce distinct ethical engagements, those possessing unique abilities for which they have been ostracized come together to form a team. Revelling in the emancipatory liveliness forged by the inclusive environment which provides them with the opportunity to openly nurture their gifts, a strong sense of self evolves which is nourished by the art of friend making. But opposing philosophies regarding how they should respond to the circumstances which stifled their progress introduce a spirited variable which constructs an internal polarity. Friends must decide where their allegiances lie if they are to be true to their feelings as they construct dreams for the future.
But it's really not that dramatic. True, Charles Xavier (James McAvoy, Laurence Belcher) and Erik Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender, Bill Milner) represent opposing politico-ethical stances in regards to sociological group dynamics, but even when said stances are materialized, through the act of a decision necessitated by ego (or a lack there of), they still remain friends as they attempt to thwart each others efforts.
Most of the thwarting takes place in X-Men: First Class's predecessors.
It's fun to watch as Professor X and Magneto youthfully engage in various extraordinary activities, but the film isn't the greatest. There are many, many, terrible lines that seem to be relying on the franchise's built in audience for cheerful support. Many of the scenes where characters meet one another or assume their future identities are as predictable and maudlin as they come, and it's sort of like they've just remade the original X-Men film and substituted a number of new characters and an unconvincing cold war scenario for its content. One major difference is that the writers seem to be favouring Magneto's outlook as evidenced by the sympathy generated for his character, the fact that he is given the last scene, the death midway of the only African American character, and the constant objectification of women. A forgettable instalment in the X-Men saga, First Class is still required viewing for fans nonetheless.
But it's really not that dramatic. True, Charles Xavier (James McAvoy, Laurence Belcher) and Erik Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender, Bill Milner) represent opposing politico-ethical stances in regards to sociological group dynamics, but even when said stances are materialized, through the act of a decision necessitated by ego (or a lack there of), they still remain friends as they attempt to thwart each others efforts.
Most of the thwarting takes place in X-Men: First Class's predecessors.
It's fun to watch as Professor X and Magneto youthfully engage in various extraordinary activities, but the film isn't the greatest. There are many, many, terrible lines that seem to be relying on the franchise's built in audience for cheerful support. Many of the scenes where characters meet one another or assume their future identities are as predictable and maudlin as they come, and it's sort of like they've just remade the original X-Men film and substituted a number of new characters and an unconvincing cold war scenario for its content. One major difference is that the writers seem to be favouring Magneto's outlook as evidenced by the sympathy generated for his character, the fact that he is given the last scene, the death midway of the only African American character, and the constant objectification of women. A forgettable instalment in the X-Men saga, First Class is still required viewing for fans nonetheless.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Hangover Part II
And they made another Hangover film.
This time the Wolfpack's in Thailand, and, thanks to the fact that everywhere they go someone speaks English, they're able to loosely piece together what took place during their second rowdy blackout. Character types are solidified and exaggerated. Phil (Bradley Cooper) once again maintains a level-head and calmly leads the pack from one reconstructed debacle to the next. Stu's (Ed Helms) future father-in-law humiliates him regularly and his adventures in Bangkok potentially complicate the bonds of holy matrimony. And Alan (Zach Galifianakis). Alan consistently elaborates upon his peculiar relationship with highly 'alternative' conceptions of the status-quo, and thoroughly demonstrates that he hasn't the slightest clue in regards to socio-anything. Of course, many of my favourite characters are Alanesque and the status-quo is a slippery conception whose malleable determinants relativistically engage opposing cultural semantic designations (internally and externally) which are dependent upon political and economic (and so on) qualifiers and whether or not anyone pays attention to them. But Alan's such a yutz when it comes to Teddy's (Mason Lee) inclusion in the pack, that it was difficult for me to generate any related sympathy.
Although the generation of sympathy is where The Hangover Part II's strength lies, not simply sympathy generated for the slapdash script, which was potentially written in haste in order to cash in on the simmering Hangover phenomenon, perhaps over the weekend or during daily trips to the washroom, but sympathy for reckless behaviour brought on by years of predictable engagements whose consequences resultantly clarify and distinguish their uniformity, for better or worse. Yes these particular things happened and they were the by-product of other general things which also happened and therefore, while problematic in regards to a strict definition of responsibility, accentuate and integrate said responsibilities into a traditional framework nonetheless, fully and completely, through the art of forgiveness.
It's too hot today.
This time the Wolfpack's in Thailand, and, thanks to the fact that everywhere they go someone speaks English, they're able to loosely piece together what took place during their second rowdy blackout. Character types are solidified and exaggerated. Phil (Bradley Cooper) once again maintains a level-head and calmly leads the pack from one reconstructed debacle to the next. Stu's (Ed Helms) future father-in-law humiliates him regularly and his adventures in Bangkok potentially complicate the bonds of holy matrimony. And Alan (Zach Galifianakis). Alan consistently elaborates upon his peculiar relationship with highly 'alternative' conceptions of the status-quo, and thoroughly demonstrates that he hasn't the slightest clue in regards to socio-anything. Of course, many of my favourite characters are Alanesque and the status-quo is a slippery conception whose malleable determinants relativistically engage opposing cultural semantic designations (internally and externally) which are dependent upon political and economic (and so on) qualifiers and whether or not anyone pays attention to them. But Alan's such a yutz when it comes to Teddy's (Mason Lee) inclusion in the pack, that it was difficult for me to generate any related sympathy.
Although the generation of sympathy is where The Hangover Part II's strength lies, not simply sympathy generated for the slapdash script, which was potentially written in haste in order to cash in on the simmering Hangover phenomenon, perhaps over the weekend or during daily trips to the washroom, but sympathy for reckless behaviour brought on by years of predictable engagements whose consequences resultantly clarify and distinguish their uniformity, for better or worse. Yes these particular things happened and they were the by-product of other general things which also happened and therefore, while problematic in regards to a strict definition of responsibility, accentuate and integrate said responsibilities into a traditional framework nonetheless, fully and completely, through the art of forgiveness.
It's too hot today.
Bridesmaids
And several individuals got together in order to attend various gatherings in regards to the wedding of a mutual friend. A film chronicling their activities was created, known as Bridesmaids, a work of fiction, illustrating what indeed might have happened if their true feelings had been disseminated. Its plot doesn't exactly recalibrate cultural coordinates from a previously unconsidered point of view, but the execution of its comedy and witty observations work well, fresh and lively contents inhabiting a traditional form.
Childhood friends Annie (Wiig) and Lillian's (Maya Rudolph) seamless relationship is ruffled after Lillian decides to get married and becomes closer with her fiancé's boss's wife Helen (Rose Byrne). Helen is a beautiful wealthy impeccably dressed detail oriented condescending and competitive success. Annie is struggling financially, living in an apartment with two roommates, has seen her business go belly-up, occasionally dates an asshole, and is charming and beautiful yet depressed and sullen.
Helen consistently outwits Annie as she plans events for Lillian's wedding, always choosing a more expensive option, stealing her ideas, and making everything "big C" Cutesy.
The situation implodes during Lillian's shower, where complimentary puppies are dispensed, and Annie has a nervous breakdown.
There's a certain art to taking a character's misfortunes, accentuating them tenfold, making everything miserable, inappropriate reaction after inappropriate reaction, stifling impotence, incompetent recalcitrance, and making it funny.
The character has to be easy to relate to and suffering under traumatic conditions of which he or she is also the co-author.
It's not that Annie's reactions are really that inappropriate, she just honestly responds to difficult challenges wherein her genuine ideas are infantalized by people possessing far more resources or some form of leverage that necessitates her submissiveness.
Tension is slowly built until it erupts in an explosive fortissimo.
Old and new worlds wantonly collide in a sophisticated psychological war of attrition.
Scenes contains jokes which cleverly suggest logical extremes.
And there's a porcupine who crosses the road going bumba bumba.
I don't know what it's like to get married, and frankly, I don't want to know. And having learned from Bridesmaids that wedding preparations often dissolve the very friendships they're supposed to strengthen, I can't help but wonder if married people ever have any friends that aren't strategically related to their next five year plan.
Childhood friends Annie (Wiig) and Lillian's (Maya Rudolph) seamless relationship is ruffled after Lillian decides to get married and becomes closer with her fiancé's boss's wife Helen (Rose Byrne). Helen is a beautiful wealthy impeccably dressed detail oriented condescending and competitive success. Annie is struggling financially, living in an apartment with two roommates, has seen her business go belly-up, occasionally dates an asshole, and is charming and beautiful yet depressed and sullen.
Helen consistently outwits Annie as she plans events for Lillian's wedding, always choosing a more expensive option, stealing her ideas, and making everything "big C" Cutesy.
The situation implodes during Lillian's shower, where complimentary puppies are dispensed, and Annie has a nervous breakdown.
There's a certain art to taking a character's misfortunes, accentuating them tenfold, making everything miserable, inappropriate reaction after inappropriate reaction, stifling impotence, incompetent recalcitrance, and making it funny.
The character has to be easy to relate to and suffering under traumatic conditions of which he or she is also the co-author.
It's not that Annie's reactions are really that inappropriate, she just honestly responds to difficult challenges wherein her genuine ideas are infantalized by people possessing far more resources or some form of leverage that necessitates her submissiveness.
Tension is slowly built until it erupts in an explosive fortissimo.
Old and new worlds wantonly collide in a sophisticated psychological war of attrition.
Scenes contains jokes which cleverly suggest logical extremes.
And there's a porcupine who crosses the road going bumba bumba.
I don't know what it's like to get married, and frankly, I don't want to know. And having learned from Bridesmaids that wedding preparations often dissolve the very friendships they're supposed to strengthen, I can't help but wonder if married people ever have any friends that aren't strategically related to their next five year plan.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The Naked Kiss
Seeking redemption in the small town of Grantville, Kelly (Constance Towers) leaves behind her street walking lifestyle and finds a job as a nurse helping handicapped children. Her upbeat and dedicated personality make an immediate impact and she's able to start building a new life of her own.
But barriers lie in her way, established by Police Captain Griff (Anthony Eisley), who, having spent the night with her upon her arrival in town, passing his days watching new women arrive on the bus, seducing them, and then recommending that they find work at a sleazy night club, refuses to give her a fighting chance and consistently threatens her with full disclosure.
The situation erupts after her hand is sought by a wealthy local bachelor who has been instrumental in building the town, yet has a few secrets of his own.
Samuel Fuller's The Naked Kiss is blunt, bold, and bellicose, plunging headfirst into the inferno and intensely categorizing its flames. It proceeds at an accelerated pace, quickly moving from one scene to the next, confidently building a momentum whose volatile reactions simplify and complicate its rhythms.
Kelly's transformation is definitive and she uses her newfound energy to combat the forces which once constituted her moribund vitality. She thereby carves herself a place on the other side of the tracks whose foundations are troubled by the stereotypical baggage attached to her former way of life.
Some of the sharp distinctions maintained by The Naked Kiss could have used some more elaboration, but deviating from the film's over-the-top charge would have disoriented its ballistic aesthetic. Thoroughly advocating for personal transformations, it still oversimplifies what is necessary for these transformations to take place.
But barriers lie in her way, established by Police Captain Griff (Anthony Eisley), who, having spent the night with her upon her arrival in town, passing his days watching new women arrive on the bus, seducing them, and then recommending that they find work at a sleazy night club, refuses to give her a fighting chance and consistently threatens her with full disclosure.
The situation erupts after her hand is sought by a wealthy local bachelor who has been instrumental in building the town, yet has a few secrets of his own.
Samuel Fuller's The Naked Kiss is blunt, bold, and bellicose, plunging headfirst into the inferno and intensely categorizing its flames. It proceeds at an accelerated pace, quickly moving from one scene to the next, confidently building a momentum whose volatile reactions simplify and complicate its rhythms.
Kelly's transformation is definitive and she uses her newfound energy to combat the forces which once constituted her moribund vitality. She thereby carves herself a place on the other side of the tracks whose foundations are troubled by the stereotypical baggage attached to her former way of life.
Some of the sharp distinctions maintained by The Naked Kiss could have used some more elaboration, but deviating from the film's over-the-top charge would have disoriented its ballistic aesthetic. Thoroughly advocating for personal transformations, it still oversimplifies what is necessary for these transformations to take place.
Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Femme fatales emerged to watch this creature fair.
Savvy?
The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise continues with its fourth instalment, On Stranger Tides. Its narrative starts fresh, reintroducing old characters and situating them within a redesigned filmscape. It took me awhile to get used to the new cast and storyline, but after examining the retooled schematic, I did enjoy the film superficially, but had problems with some of its internal mechanizations.
The playful dynamics are a lot of fun. Penélope Cruz (Angelica) mischievously stands in for Keira Knightley and her relationship with Captain Jack is somewhat more seductive. The quest for the fountain of youth creates an adventurous mythical dimension which duels with the quadrilogy's first overt religious focus. Captain Jack swashbuckles and alliterates his way through another consistently mercurial performance, attempting to break up would be battles with enumerical misgivings, and trying to ensure that his heroic acts are kept alive as part of an oral tradition. Also enjoyed how Blackbeard (Ian McShane) decides to fight Barbossa thereby flipping fate the bird, and Barbossa's character is strong (after his introduction) and he's given spirited linguistic room to maneuver.
An excuse to eat popcorn from the special edition Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides bucket has been established.
At the same time, the degree to which you must suspend your disbelief at times is troublesome, some of the acting, while encouraged to be either wooden or excessively flamboyant in order to support the narrative's larger-than-life characteristics, is frustrating (notably Richard Griffiths), Blackbeard rarely establishes himself as a captivating focus as his principle strengths are simply being in charge and a magical sword, Scrum's (Stephen Graham) character entertains but doesn't function as a substantial substitute for Pintel, Ragetti, and Cotton, and the harmonies maintained between the competing elements, so smoothly orchestrated by Gore Verbinski in The Curse of the Black Pearl at least, each scene sweetly flowing into the next, are somewhat disjointed as Rob Marshall conducts, and there are occasional pitfalls.
And is On Stranger Tides's narrative supportive of an anti-feminist framework designed exclusively for patriarchal ambitions?
Even though I'm not sure as of yet, you can still cue the hangperson.
You see, independent women are a problem for the patriarchy and it uses its control over manners of representation to vilify them consequently. Thus feminists become amazonian jungle beasts, or, in the case of On Stranger Tides, man-eating mermaids, when depicted by the patriarchy artistically. On patriarchal terms, the women are thought to be obsessed with a stereotypical definition of the male in the same way that the patriarchy is obsessed with the sweet, servile female, and only a man who embodies this stereotypical conception can win their affections.
In On Stranger Tides, the religious figure Philip Swift (Sam Claflin) captures the heart of the mermaid he accidentally helps capture (Syrena played by Astrid Berges-Frisbey), due to the undeniable purity of his own heart.
A mermaid's tear must be placed in one of two chalices and mixed with water from the fountain of youth in order to extend life, the person drinking the chalice with the tear having their life extended by the number of years lived and left to live by the person drinking the tearless chalice.
A mermaid's kiss can revitalize if you ask for her help, meaning, in patriarchal terms, that if you embody the stereotype cherished by the feminist, she can save you if you are fatally injured (how she goes about doing this is unclear), as you will be since your personality destabilizes the chauvinistic ideal supported by the patriarchy (which they seek to convince women to love without question).
Syrena (feminist mythology) kisses Philip (the individual religious figure) after he is fatally wounded. The Spanish (institutionalized religion) destroy the fountain of youth (mythology) around the same time. When religion is institutionalized it becomes capable of destroying its concrete mythological enemies but can never defeat those who embody their pre-institutional ethos who in turn can find refuge in the arms of that which the patriarchy is incapable of destroying, although it attempts to through recourse to belittling manners of representation, its night of the world, as it were.
Femme fatales emerged to watch this creature fair.
Savvy?
The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise continues with its fourth instalment, On Stranger Tides. Its narrative starts fresh, reintroducing old characters and situating them within a redesigned filmscape. It took me awhile to get used to the new cast and storyline, but after examining the retooled schematic, I did enjoy the film superficially, but had problems with some of its internal mechanizations.
The playful dynamics are a lot of fun. Penélope Cruz (Angelica) mischievously stands in for Keira Knightley and her relationship with Captain Jack is somewhat more seductive. The quest for the fountain of youth creates an adventurous mythical dimension which duels with the quadrilogy's first overt religious focus. Captain Jack swashbuckles and alliterates his way through another consistently mercurial performance, attempting to break up would be battles with enumerical misgivings, and trying to ensure that his heroic acts are kept alive as part of an oral tradition. Also enjoyed how Blackbeard (Ian McShane) decides to fight Barbossa thereby flipping fate the bird, and Barbossa's character is strong (after his introduction) and he's given spirited linguistic room to maneuver.
An excuse to eat popcorn from the special edition Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides bucket has been established.
At the same time, the degree to which you must suspend your disbelief at times is troublesome, some of the acting, while encouraged to be either wooden or excessively flamboyant in order to support the narrative's larger-than-life characteristics, is frustrating (notably Richard Griffiths), Blackbeard rarely establishes himself as a captivating focus as his principle strengths are simply being in charge and a magical sword, Scrum's (Stephen Graham) character entertains but doesn't function as a substantial substitute for Pintel, Ragetti, and Cotton, and the harmonies maintained between the competing elements, so smoothly orchestrated by Gore Verbinski in The Curse of the Black Pearl at least, each scene sweetly flowing into the next, are somewhat disjointed as Rob Marshall conducts, and there are occasional pitfalls.
And is On Stranger Tides's narrative supportive of an anti-feminist framework designed exclusively for patriarchal ambitions?
Even though I'm not sure as of yet, you can still cue the hangperson.
You see, independent women are a problem for the patriarchy and it uses its control over manners of representation to vilify them consequently. Thus feminists become amazonian jungle beasts, or, in the case of On Stranger Tides, man-eating mermaids, when depicted by the patriarchy artistically. On patriarchal terms, the women are thought to be obsessed with a stereotypical definition of the male in the same way that the patriarchy is obsessed with the sweet, servile female, and only a man who embodies this stereotypical conception can win their affections.
In On Stranger Tides, the religious figure Philip Swift (Sam Claflin) captures the heart of the mermaid he accidentally helps capture (Syrena played by Astrid Berges-Frisbey), due to the undeniable purity of his own heart.
A mermaid's tear must be placed in one of two chalices and mixed with water from the fountain of youth in order to extend life, the person drinking the chalice with the tear having their life extended by the number of years lived and left to live by the person drinking the tearless chalice.
A mermaid's kiss can revitalize if you ask for her help, meaning, in patriarchal terms, that if you embody the stereotype cherished by the feminist, she can save you if you are fatally injured (how she goes about doing this is unclear), as you will be since your personality destabilizes the chauvinistic ideal supported by the patriarchy (which they seek to convince women to love without question).
Syrena (feminist mythology) kisses Philip (the individual religious figure) after he is fatally wounded. The Spanish (institutionalized religion) destroy the fountain of youth (mythology) around the same time. When religion is institutionalized it becomes capable of destroying its concrete mythological enemies but can never defeat those who embody their pre-institutional ethos who in turn can find refuge in the arms of that which the patriarchy is incapable of destroying, although it attempts to through recourse to belittling manners of representation, its night of the world, as it were.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Hot Fuzz
Wow. Ever been worried that the warm and friendly atmosphere blossoming in your small town is being sinisterly manufactured in order to preserve an antiquated way of life? Ever considered that beneath the pristine picturesque pastimes coordinating your daily pastoral activities lies a determined sect dedicated to ensuring that those activities will remain unchanged, forever?
Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg sure have and the result is a chilling satirization of life in the country, complete with down home cute and cuddly clementines and the infrequent honk of a rebellious swan.
Or Hot Fuzz for short.
Police officer Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) excels at his job. But he performs beyond exceptionally thereby alienating most of the force.
This results in his transfer from London to Sandford.
His dedicated uncompromising bullet proof rectitude also frustrates many in Sandford, but not before he acknowledges that he may have a problem and also befriends partner Danny Butterman (Nick Frost).
The two form an unlikely duo determined to prove that a series of recent deaths are in fact the product of murder, Simon Skinner (Timothy Dalton) being their principal suspect.
Should Angel proceed with the traditional traction that has failed to serve him well professionally, or should he relax his pursuit of justice in order to make a more homely fit in his new town?
The answer enriches the ultimate battle of good versus evil, sublimely crafted and ridiculously executed, truly one for the ages.
If you like watching well-written films wherein characters are given seriously comedic room to maneuver, films which seem like they're unconcerned with their narrative's meticulously researched playfully cohesive structure, films which set up over the top stereotypes in opposition and then provide them with plenty of ammo, films where representatives of law and order break down and descend into total chaos, while still upholding the law, you'll likely enjoy Hot Fuzz's bizarre relationship with tradition and redemption, give or take a theoretical posture regarding communal individuality.
Obsessed unyielding conviction. Authority and a pledge of trust. Guns.
Hot Fuzz.
Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg sure have and the result is a chilling satirization of life in the country, complete with down home cute and cuddly clementines and the infrequent honk of a rebellious swan.
Or Hot Fuzz for short.
Police officer Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) excels at his job. But he performs beyond exceptionally thereby alienating most of the force.
This results in his transfer from London to Sandford.
His dedicated uncompromising bullet proof rectitude also frustrates many in Sandford, but not before he acknowledges that he may have a problem and also befriends partner Danny Butterman (Nick Frost).
The two form an unlikely duo determined to prove that a series of recent deaths are in fact the product of murder, Simon Skinner (Timothy Dalton) being their principal suspect.
Should Angel proceed with the traditional traction that has failed to serve him well professionally, or should he relax his pursuit of justice in order to make a more homely fit in his new town?
The answer enriches the ultimate battle of good versus evil, sublimely crafted and ridiculously executed, truly one for the ages.
If you like watching well-written films wherein characters are given seriously comedic room to maneuver, films which seem like they're unconcerned with their narrative's meticulously researched playfully cohesive structure, films which set up over the top stereotypes in opposition and then provide them with plenty of ammo, films where representatives of law and order break down and descend into total chaos, while still upholding the law, you'll likely enjoy Hot Fuzz's bizarre relationship with tradition and redemption, give or take a theoretical posture regarding communal individuality.
Obsessed unyielding conviction. Authority and a pledge of trust. Guns.
Hot Fuzz.
Thor
The mighty god Thor (Chris Hemsworth) has been cast from Asgard by his despondent father (Anthony Hopkins as Odin) after having behaved recklessly, thereby derailing his people's age old truce with the unfortunately named Frost Giants (of Jotunheim). Sent to Earth to learn what it means to lead, Thor struggles with both his mortal form and newfound feelings for resilient scientist Jane Foster (Natalie Portman).
I may be exaggerating the struggle somewhat.
Back in Asgard, the jealous and deceitful Loki (Tom Hiddleston) takes advantage of both his brother's absence and father's collapse to place himself upon the unoccupied throne.
Thor's hammer Mjolnir has also been sent to Earth but a spell has been cast upon it which ensures that it can only be retrieved by one who is pure of heart.
Can Thor make the necessary sacrifices in order to be able to wield his hammer once again, or will Loki's pact with the Frost Giants bring about a chilling end to centuries of uninterrupted peace?
The introduction of S.H.E.I.L.D works well to establish a terrestrial dimension within Thor's divine ambitions, but watching as slick and cool government organizations commandeer a scientist's life work in the interests of the greater good gave me somewhat of a stomach ache.
Out of all of Thor's secondary characters, Foster's assistant and mentor forge the most lasting impression due to the ways in which they juxtapose cheeky disengaged spontaneity with shrewd weathered experience, Foster charging confidently and prudently through their generational centre (Kat Dennings as Darcy Lewis and Stellan Skarsgård as Dr. Erik Selvig). Heimdall's (Idris Elba) embodiment of vigilance and loyalty, made all the more durable by his formidable intelligence and strength, like a domesticated Grizzly Bear, also works well.
The scenes wherein Loki enacts his treason do not work well and their development pales in comparison to those within which Thor comes of age.
Which aren't that great either.
Cain and Able meets Superman II in order to dislodge the Hammer in the Stone?
Thor entertains but lacks the depth of Iron Man or even Iron Man 2. The plot is generally predictable and there are few scenes which inspire even the slightest misgivings about what will happen next. Generating such misgivings is tough to do, but exceptional films find a way to make their universe so enthralling that they briefly transport us to another realm within which we sincerely care about what will happen due to its captivating multidimensional focus (this is where manufactured randomness and bizarre observations can work well if they don't seem manufactured).
I liked Thor's principal message and it is deep, but it lacks the fantastic lightning strike required to generate thunderous applause.
I guess the difference between Thor and a film like Fast Five is that while watching Fast Five I wasn't expecting to encounter such a strike. Hence I was content to just sit back and be entertained.
I may be exaggerating the struggle somewhat.
Back in Asgard, the jealous and deceitful Loki (Tom Hiddleston) takes advantage of both his brother's absence and father's collapse to place himself upon the unoccupied throne.
Thor's hammer Mjolnir has also been sent to Earth but a spell has been cast upon it which ensures that it can only be retrieved by one who is pure of heart.
Can Thor make the necessary sacrifices in order to be able to wield his hammer once again, or will Loki's pact with the Frost Giants bring about a chilling end to centuries of uninterrupted peace?
The introduction of S.H.E.I.L.D works well to establish a terrestrial dimension within Thor's divine ambitions, but watching as slick and cool government organizations commandeer a scientist's life work in the interests of the greater good gave me somewhat of a stomach ache.
Out of all of Thor's secondary characters, Foster's assistant and mentor forge the most lasting impression due to the ways in which they juxtapose cheeky disengaged spontaneity with shrewd weathered experience, Foster charging confidently and prudently through their generational centre (Kat Dennings as Darcy Lewis and Stellan Skarsgård as Dr. Erik Selvig). Heimdall's (Idris Elba) embodiment of vigilance and loyalty, made all the more durable by his formidable intelligence and strength, like a domesticated Grizzly Bear, also works well.
The scenes wherein Loki enacts his treason do not work well and their development pales in comparison to those within which Thor comes of age.
Which aren't that great either.
Cain and Able meets Superman II in order to dislodge the Hammer in the Stone?
Thor entertains but lacks the depth of Iron Man or even Iron Man 2. The plot is generally predictable and there are few scenes which inspire even the slightest misgivings about what will happen next. Generating such misgivings is tough to do, but exceptional films find a way to make their universe so enthralling that they briefly transport us to another realm within which we sincerely care about what will happen due to its captivating multidimensional focus (this is where manufactured randomness and bizarre observations can work well if they don't seem manufactured).
I liked Thor's principal message and it is deep, but it lacks the fantastic lightning strike required to generate thunderous applause.
I guess the difference between Thor and a film like Fast Five is that while watching Fast Five I wasn't expecting to encounter such a strike. Hence I was content to just sit back and be entertained.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Fast Five
Fast cars, frenzied action, forlorn characters, and frenetic frictions make up Fast Five's feverish collisions as the duration of its franchise is significantly distended.
Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his team of vehicular visionaries are on the run from both the law and a Brazilian gangster as familial responsibilities reconstitute their pursuit of happiness.
As if they're beyond good and evil.
They're not trying to rob from the rich and give to the poor, they're trying to heist around a hundred million and make a break for the sunset. They have the tools and possess the know-how; it's now just a matter of exceptional skill and impeccable timing.
Not to mention good buds and a wrought iron reputation.
The film's intense and fun to watch. There are many logical miscues but it is deeper than it appears on the surface.
For instance, Brazilian gangster Hernan Reyes (Joaquim de Almeida) thinks he can control communities by providing them with lavish gifts. He provides the finances for projects and expects a high degree of subservience in return. After he places an enormous bounty on Dominic's head, you'd expect there to be at least one scene during which he encounters an agile opportunist, but this doesn't happen. Since the population is so used to Reyes's duplicity, no one trusts him unless they have to, and therefore no one seeks to betray Toretto.
Hence, at least some of the thought put into Fast Five wasn't geared towards stunts and getaways, and if you can get over the stock characters and sensational situations it's worth checking out. These films aren't really about employing more advanced rhetorical devices, their more advanced rhetorical devices are built into the ways in which they present more elaborate sensational situations, 'out-witting' what's taken place in their predecessors, and using a gangster's safe guarded by the police to smash up both the police and the gangster, well, that was a good idea.
But don't take my word for it.
Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his team of vehicular visionaries are on the run from both the law and a Brazilian gangster as familial responsibilities reconstitute their pursuit of happiness.
As if they're beyond good and evil.
They're not trying to rob from the rich and give to the poor, they're trying to heist around a hundred million and make a break for the sunset. They have the tools and possess the know-how; it's now just a matter of exceptional skill and impeccable timing.
Not to mention good buds and a wrought iron reputation.
The film's intense and fun to watch. There are many logical miscues but it is deeper than it appears on the surface.
For instance, Brazilian gangster Hernan Reyes (Joaquim de Almeida) thinks he can control communities by providing them with lavish gifts. He provides the finances for projects and expects a high degree of subservience in return. After he places an enormous bounty on Dominic's head, you'd expect there to be at least one scene during which he encounters an agile opportunist, but this doesn't happen. Since the population is so used to Reyes's duplicity, no one trusts him unless they have to, and therefore no one seeks to betray Toretto.
Hence, at least some of the thought put into Fast Five wasn't geared towards stunts and getaways, and if you can get over the stock characters and sensational situations it's worth checking out. These films aren't really about employing more advanced rhetorical devices, their more advanced rhetorical devices are built into the ways in which they present more elaborate sensational situations, 'out-witting' what's taken place in their predecessors, and using a gangster's safe guarded by the police to smash up both the police and the gangster, well, that was a good idea.
But don't take my word for it.
Gimme Shelter
Providing glimpses into The Rolling Stones's tragic concert held at the Altamont Speedway in 1969, Gimme Shelter follows the band as they tour the United States beforehand and accept the fate of their beaten-to-death fan afterwards. Insights into the logistics of preparing for the show and the problems associated with corresponding security arrangements are offered as well.
The footage of The Stones performing classics like Jumpin' Jack Flash, (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, and Street Fighting Fan rocks, directors Albert Maysles, David Maysles, and Charlotte Zwerin fluidly capturing their electrifying and intensifying rhythms. Tina Turner and Jefferson Airplane also receive screen time and there's a brief scene showcasing members of The Grateful Dead as they discover that JA's lead male singer Marty Balin has been assaulted by security. The Stones have to stop playing Sympathy for the Devil as the crowd and the Hell's Angels clash and shortly thereafter one of their fans passes on.
The Stones are shown silently watching related video footage and listening to comments regarding their fan's death within. It must have been a shocking experience and the affects of said shock seem to be reflected by Jagger's sombre countenance. Tough to predict what will happen when organizing massive entertainments. Tougher to know how you'll react to the outcomes even if you've convinced yourself that you're prepared for the worst case. The film's more of a presentation of a cross-section of the facts than a reflection upon them.
The footage of The Stones performing classics like Jumpin' Jack Flash, (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, and Street Fighting Fan rocks, directors Albert Maysles, David Maysles, and Charlotte Zwerin fluidly capturing their electrifying and intensifying rhythms. Tina Turner and Jefferson Airplane also receive screen time and there's a brief scene showcasing members of The Grateful Dead as they discover that JA's lead male singer Marty Balin has been assaulted by security. The Stones have to stop playing Sympathy for the Devil as the crowd and the Hell's Angels clash and shortly thereafter one of their fans passes on.
The Stones are shown silently watching related video footage and listening to comments regarding their fan's death within. It must have been a shocking experience and the affects of said shock seem to be reflected by Jagger's sombre countenance. Tough to predict what will happen when organizing massive entertainments. Tougher to know how you'll react to the outcomes even if you've convinced yourself that you're prepared for the worst case. The film's more of a presentation of a cross-section of the facts than a reflection upon them.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Source Code
Duncan Jones's Source Code maintains a peculiar relationship with law and order. The overt dimension is sound enough: transport someone back to a moment in time located within an alternative parallel reality and have them discover information that can help stop terrorists when they are transported home. This is what Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal) does in subsequent 8 minute intervals throughout as he tries to find out who planted a bomb on a passenger train bound for Chicago. Each time he is sent back, he's encouraged to detect the necessary information by any means necessary, with no concern for the effects his actions might cause to that alternative parallel reality. Hence, in order to fight terrorism in one reality criminal acts can be committed in another. If these alternative parallel realities don't exist this isn't a problem, but if they do, and they obviously do insofar as Colter is repeatedly transferred to them, it is an extremely serious problem, serious enough to destabilize source code's legitimacy. Justifying your pursuit of law in order in one dimension by any means necessary in another is distasteful to say the least and Source Code would have been a stronger film if this fact and its associated ramifications had been brought to the forefront.
Amarcord
As winds of change passionately breathe throughout the Italian countryside, and tectonic ships coast through the night, poetic reflections and familial festivities emancipate a repressed human factor whose vivacious spirit refuses to yield. Energetic youthful explorations generate blossoming warm and friendly observations whose flowering imaginings revitalize local traditions.
There are stories to be told as the seasons change and life challenges a predetermined institutional categorization. Playful scenes rich in vivid detail, capturing mischievous movements and inquisitive motivations, flourish.
Refusing to be tied down by the stereotypical attitudes condescendingly applied to their professions by a disdainful elitist few, hard working people continue to create and theorize within a stifling draconian body politic.
They inhabit a colourful filmscape full of inclusive change, verdant and robust, supporting the marginalized and the downtrodden, beyond the reach of any imperial entanglements, nurturing, caring and looking after one another, freely sharing their nourishing information.
And they dream and evaluate, consider and wonder. Hypothesize, romanticize, familiarize, thunder. Knowing that really nothing else can be done, if one wants to live fully cloaked in the sun.
The vignettes in Federico Fellini's Amarcord synergize a wrinkle in time, refusing to let autocratic realities structure their lives if their lives want nothing to do with autocratic realities.
There are stories to be told as the seasons change and life challenges a predetermined institutional categorization. Playful scenes rich in vivid detail, capturing mischievous movements and inquisitive motivations, flourish.
Refusing to be tied down by the stereotypical attitudes condescendingly applied to their professions by a disdainful elitist few, hard working people continue to create and theorize within a stifling draconian body politic.
They inhabit a colourful filmscape full of inclusive change, verdant and robust, supporting the marginalized and the downtrodden, beyond the reach of any imperial entanglements, nurturing, caring and looking after one another, freely sharing their nourishing information.
And they dream and evaluate, consider and wonder. Hypothesize, romanticize, familiarize, thunder. Knowing that really nothing else can be done, if one wants to live fully cloaked in the sun.
The vignettes in Federico Fellini's Amarcord synergize a wrinkle in time, refusing to let autocratic realities structure their lives if their lives want nothing to do with autocratic realities.
Monday, April 25, 2011
À l'origine d'un cri
Tackling difficult subject matter in a sober fashion, Robin Aubert's À l'origine d'un cri skilfully examines masculinity through the intergenerational lens of a blunt family.
A road trip is required after a husband (Michel Barrette) walks out on his family following the death of his second wife. His whereabouts are sought by his father (Jean Lapointe) and son (Patrick Hivon). Relations between the three are strained.
The two fathers seek control through the means of condescending commentaries sarcastically delivered at the expense of whomever they address, while the son's pent up anger is indirectly unleashed again and again. Trying to develop his own voice while being consistently ridiculed by his two most cherished male role models has left some scars, as has being sexually abused by a babysitter as a child, his parent's divorce, and his constant drinking. Things haven't been easy for his father or grandfather either as their breakdowns and observations relate.
But they still always find a way to deal.
If you've ever known what it's like to consistently encounter sarcastic witticisms concerning the majority of what you do you'll likely find the conversations within À l'origine d'un cri heart warming, challenging, hilarious, and sly, tempestuously orchestrating a particularized masculine discourse while harmonizing its voices with quotidian cacophonies. It synthetically compartmentalizes the destructively productive realities governing specific son-father-grandfather relationships, agilely using comedy to lighten the tension without infantalizing the catharsis.
Love briefly disseminates its revitalizing aura when it eventually arises, the excessive byproduct of their strict and penetrating criticisms.
A road trip is required after a husband (Michel Barrette) walks out on his family following the death of his second wife. His whereabouts are sought by his father (Jean Lapointe) and son (Patrick Hivon). Relations between the three are strained.
The two fathers seek control through the means of condescending commentaries sarcastically delivered at the expense of whomever they address, while the son's pent up anger is indirectly unleashed again and again. Trying to develop his own voice while being consistently ridiculed by his two most cherished male role models has left some scars, as has being sexually abused by a babysitter as a child, his parent's divorce, and his constant drinking. Things haven't been easy for his father or grandfather either as their breakdowns and observations relate.
But they still always find a way to deal.
If you've ever known what it's like to consistently encounter sarcastic witticisms concerning the majority of what you do you'll likely find the conversations within À l'origine d'un cri heart warming, challenging, hilarious, and sly, tempestuously orchestrating a particularized masculine discourse while harmonizing its voices with quotidian cacophonies. It synthetically compartmentalizes the destructively productive realities governing specific son-father-grandfather relationships, agilely using comedy to lighten the tension without infantalizing the catharsis.
Love briefly disseminates its revitalizing aura when it eventually arises, the excessive byproduct of their strict and penetrating criticisms.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Light Thief
As Krygyzstan adjusts to post-Soviet realities and workers continue to enjoy their lives even though basic food items are difficult to come by, one person of the people continues to function as a link between the haves and have nots, risking his prestigious position to faithfully restore the light. A courageous film from director Aktan Abdykalykov, The Light Thief presents an impoverished rural town struggling to maintain its identity as political currents redefine the ways in which its country is managed. The mayor who fought for the rights of his people is dead and those seeking to obtain their land have replaced him with a naive relative whose loyalty is individualistic and up for sale. Those with capital are willing to potentially finance experimental projects but strict respect must first be paid to their patriarchal order. Svet-Ake (Aktan Abdykalykov) holds his ideals close to heart and isn't willing to sacrifice them. If a family can no longer pay their electric bill, he reconnects their system to keep them attached to the grid. When offered the opportunity to establish a wind farm, he discusses his plans in a state of respectful disbelief. But its creation is necessitated upon the retooling of his ethical code, a personal transformation he is unable to make.
Old World meets New World in The Light Thief's subtly turbulent narrative. Capital is required to refurbish but the only source of its generation is the only asset the people have left. The outlets for negotiations and collaborations are destabilized as technological advances role in. The voice established by the working class is in danger of being silenced.
Boldly championing the dignity of the people while sharply pointing out what's at stake if that dignity is sacrificed, The Light Thief accentuates what it means to take risks as a matter of principle. Focusing to much overt attention on Svet-Ake and not enough on developing minor characters, it still slyly highlights the ingenuity of the town's impoverished youth while suggesting that that ingenuity is threatened.
Old World meets New World in The Light Thief's subtly turbulent narrative. Capital is required to refurbish but the only source of its generation is the only asset the people have left. The outlets for negotiations and collaborations are destabilized as technological advances role in. The voice established by the working class is in danger of being silenced.
Boldly championing the dignity of the people while sharply pointing out what's at stake if that dignity is sacrificed, The Light Thief accentuates what it means to take risks as a matter of principle. Focusing to much overt attention on Svet-Ake and not enough on developing minor characters, it still slyly highlights the ingenuity of the town's impoverished youth while suggesting that that ingenuity is threatened.
2 frogs dans l'ouest
Leaving behind her structured life in Montréal, Marie Deschamps (Mirianne Brulé) travels to Whistler in pursuit of adventure and the acquisition of the English language. Things don't progress smoothly in the beginning until the angelic Jean-François Laforest (Dany Papineau) steps in to save the day. With a job and a place to stay, Marie's transition steadfastly accelerates and good previously unimagined times present themselves. But the predetermined all encompassing capitalist master narrative is still seductively ready to pounce, just as bohemian alternatives become all the more tantalizing.
Dany Papineau's 2 frogs dans l'ouest salutes the pursuit of non-traditional lifestyles while highlighting corresponding difficulties as well as those associated with learning a new language. The scene where Marie attempts to order something to eat in English near the beginning of her journey reminded me of similar personal outings in Québec, where you can't help but feel prostrate due to the fact that you can't communicate or don't understand the simple linguistic distinctions that you need to be able to comprehend in order to function, although the percentage of Québecors who speak English is much higher than that of English Canadians who speak French, a fact that many English Canadians should take into consideration. Sport is central to 2 frogs dans l'ouest's vision and the cathartic affects of activities such as snowboarding play a central metaphoric role. Is living in a beautiful place like Whistler or Canmore in order to pursue the artistic life while consistently engaging in exhilarating activities amidst the continuous inspirational presence of breathtaking scenery a good decision?
Yes, yes it is, although I suppose everyone can't live in such places, only the committed few.
Some of the coming of age reflections in 2 frogs dans l'ouest are a little tough to take at times. Papineau develops a lot of sympathy for Marie's father (Germain Houde) who made many sacrifices so that she could go to school as well. But he also didn't make those sacrifices so that she would give up her dreams.
And she doesn't.
Dany Papineau's 2 frogs dans l'ouest salutes the pursuit of non-traditional lifestyles while highlighting corresponding difficulties as well as those associated with learning a new language. The scene where Marie attempts to order something to eat in English near the beginning of her journey reminded me of similar personal outings in Québec, where you can't help but feel prostrate due to the fact that you can't communicate or don't understand the simple linguistic distinctions that you need to be able to comprehend in order to function, although the percentage of Québecors who speak English is much higher than that of English Canadians who speak French, a fact that many English Canadians should take into consideration. Sport is central to 2 frogs dans l'ouest's vision and the cathartic affects of activities such as snowboarding play a central metaphoric role. Is living in a beautiful place like Whistler or Canmore in order to pursue the artistic life while consistently engaging in exhilarating activities amidst the continuous inspirational presence of breathtaking scenery a good decision?
Yes, yes it is, although I suppose everyone can't live in such places, only the committed few.
Some of the coming of age reflections in 2 frogs dans l'ouest are a little tough to take at times. Papineau develops a lot of sympathy for Marie's father (Germain Houde) who made many sacrifices so that she could go to school as well. But he also didn't make those sacrifices so that she would give up her dreams.
And she doesn't.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Paul
One of the most comfortable science-fiction comedies I've seen, Greg Mottola's Paul introduces several distracting characters whose down home urbanized savvy fuels a quaint campy road trip. This road trip includes science fiction writer Clive Gollings (Nick Frost), his best friend Graeme Willy (Simon Pegg), a devoted Christian (Kristen Wiig), and a pot smoking trash talking fun lovin' alien named Paul (voiced by Seth Rogan). Paul has escaped from the military facility which held him prisoner for decades and used his advanced knowledge to drive various technological/pop cultural/industrial/. . . economies.
He seeks to return home.
Clive and Graeme have arrived in America from Britain to attend Comic-Con and then travel the midwest. They accidentally meet Paul on the side of a highway one evening and agree to help him reach his destination. In hot pursuit are Agent Zoil (Jason Bateman) and his reluctant sidekicks Haggard (Bill Hader) and O'Reilly (Joe Lo Truglio), intent on recapturing Paul so that the government can cut out his brain.
And reclaim their weed.
Every scene in Paul is well written, fun, and entertaining (written by Nick Frost and Simon Pegg). The humour isn't the most cerebral but it takes a lot of brains to be able to successfully write and sustain so many catchy one-liners, skilfully using repetition to recapture laughs throughout. There are many hilarious shots of characters standing there with bewildered quizzical looks on their faces, and including Moses Buggs (John Caroll Lynch) in those near the end was priceless. Knowing that the road trip will not likely be threateningly interrupted produces feelings of comfort, although you would think the military would be searching for Paul in greater numbers (this would have ruined the film however!). Paul structurally references myriad science-fiction classics and it's fun trying to unravel them all (I did not catch them all). Watching Graeme and Ruth Buggs (Wiig) exchange romantic observations works well. Frustration, Frost and Pegg are experts in comedically timing moments of productive frustration.
Are humans smart enough to have come up with all of the technological advances of the last 100 years on their own or have aliens been sharing their related knowledge with them? Paul's answer to this question is "no, they are not, aliens have been sharing their knowledge, period."
He seeks to return home.
Clive and Graeme have arrived in America from Britain to attend Comic-Con and then travel the midwest. They accidentally meet Paul on the side of a highway one evening and agree to help him reach his destination. In hot pursuit are Agent Zoil (Jason Bateman) and his reluctant sidekicks Haggard (Bill Hader) and O'Reilly (Joe Lo Truglio), intent on recapturing Paul so that the government can cut out his brain.
And reclaim their weed.
Every scene in Paul is well written, fun, and entertaining (written by Nick Frost and Simon Pegg). The humour isn't the most cerebral but it takes a lot of brains to be able to successfully write and sustain so many catchy one-liners, skilfully using repetition to recapture laughs throughout. There are many hilarious shots of characters standing there with bewildered quizzical looks on their faces, and including Moses Buggs (John Caroll Lynch) in those near the end was priceless. Knowing that the road trip will not likely be threateningly interrupted produces feelings of comfort, although you would think the military would be searching for Paul in greater numbers (this would have ruined the film however!). Paul structurally references myriad science-fiction classics and it's fun trying to unravel them all (I did not catch them all). Watching Graeme and Ruth Buggs (Wiig) exchange romantic observations works well. Frustration, Frost and Pegg are experts in comedically timing moments of productive frustration.
Are humans smart enough to have come up with all of the technological advances of the last 100 years on their own or have aliens been sharing their related knowledge with them? Paul's answer to this question is "no, they are not, aliens have been sharing their knowledge, period."
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Arthur
Not sure what to make of Jason Winer's Arthur. Apart from a commercial they ran on the Comedy Network for a couple of weeks, I'm completely unfamiliar with Russell Brand so this was my first encounter with his work. He's made a bold career move in Arthur, overtly suggesting that he is the inheritor of Dudley Moore's legacy, a move that must be followed up by an exceptional performance to be even remotely legitimized. I haven't seen many Dudley Moore films but I remember he was revered enough to be positively and negatively criticized in the mainstream media for a lengthy period while I was growing up, meaning that he likely has supportive and passionate fans remaining. Will they see Brand's reworking of Arthur as an homage to a great comedian by an up and coming artist who respects his entourage, or as an assault on a solidified characterization already firmly canonized within specific pop cultural histories/theorizations?
They're probably not concerned with either of these possibilities as they have better things to do.
But I don't, so I'm mentioning them in an indirect salute to the phenomenon of potential.
I thought Arthur lacked depth and the story simply recycled basic romantic class conscious true love narratives to produce another feel good romantic-comedy without innovating within corresponding traditions. Difficult subjects like arranged marriage, social barriers, child rearing, and corporate management are introduced and brought to the forefront, but Arthur's happy-go-lucky carefree nature euphemizes the constructive discourses delegated by their presence. At the same time, Brand's portrayal of Arthur is enlivening and revitalizing, cheerfully demanding that attention be paid. He's obviously multi-talented and the depth he instills in Arthur's character is striking. Helen Mirren is not to be bested, however, and she delivers a multi-talented characterization of her own, exemplified by the way in which she states the word "chimpanzee." The writers also provide her character with one of the most sublime of pastimes/interests which was sincerely appreciated by this commentator.
I suppose films whose performers subvert the greater cultural evaluations their director is trying to make by destabilizing them by displaying their talents function as prominent symbols of capitalist individuality. And Arthur is the product of successful capitalists who have amassed an enormous fortune, so, Arthur's form is working hand in hand with its content on one level anyways.
Bears.
They're probably not concerned with either of these possibilities as they have better things to do.
But I don't, so I'm mentioning them in an indirect salute to the phenomenon of potential.
I thought Arthur lacked depth and the story simply recycled basic romantic class conscious true love narratives to produce another feel good romantic-comedy without innovating within corresponding traditions. Difficult subjects like arranged marriage, social barriers, child rearing, and corporate management are introduced and brought to the forefront, but Arthur's happy-go-lucky carefree nature euphemizes the constructive discourses delegated by their presence. At the same time, Brand's portrayal of Arthur is enlivening and revitalizing, cheerfully demanding that attention be paid. He's obviously multi-talented and the depth he instills in Arthur's character is striking. Helen Mirren is not to be bested, however, and she delivers a multi-talented characterization of her own, exemplified by the way in which she states the word "chimpanzee." The writers also provide her character with one of the most sublime of pastimes/interests which was sincerely appreciated by this commentator.
I suppose films whose performers subvert the greater cultural evaluations their director is trying to make by destabilizing them by displaying their talents function as prominent symbols of capitalist individuality. And Arthur is the product of successful capitalists who have amassed an enormous fortune, so, Arthur's form is working hand in hand with its content on one level anyways.
Bears.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Thieves' Highway
Can sheer will and determination enable an idealistic man's pursuit of justice in the underground world of fruit and vegetable exchange, or will they leave him distraught, broke and bedridden? Jules Dassin's Thieves' Highway examines this question and anxiously offers an unexpected solution. Nick Garcos (Richard Conte) returns home after years of working and saving his hard earned cash. Only to discover that his father (Morris Carnovsky) no longer has working legs after an accident coordinated by a crooked produce distributor (Lee J. Cobb as Mike Figlia). This upsets Garcos who immediately sets out to avenge his dad by cutting a deal with a shifty trucker named Ed Kinney (Millard Mitchell). Ed knows the whereabouts of an overflowing apple orchard whose gold and delicious bounty is ready for sale. The two strike up an agreement and purchase a truckload of apples each bound for sale to the aforementioned crook. But along the way, Ed's weathered universal slows his pace and young Nick must learn to negotiate deals with hardened thugs who don't believe in fair play.
On his own.
Not sure if Thieves' Highway is a film-noir or not but some of the classic tropes are in place. Anxiety exists although it's perforated with moments of happiness and peaceful calm. The majority of the film's action takes place in the underground but this underground isn't predominantly destitute. Some members of the police force are honourable, there's a lack of jazz music, the straight-and-narrow fiancé (Barbara Lawrence) turns out to be the femme fatale, and the femme fatale (Valentina Cortese) has a definitive change of heart. Does she only have this change of heart because Garcos represents the second generation of an immigrant family, integrated and successful, and is Dassin saying that only film-noir heroes from ethnic backgrounds can save the troubled femme fatale?
There's a lot going on behind and in-between the scenes in Thieves' Highway and some of the logic's somewhat bizarre. I suppose there's a plot, an internal relationship between the different components maintaining the plot's structure, an external relationship between the plot's structure and established film noir conventions, and another external relationship between the director's interpretation of these conventions (what he's trying to say by employing them in this or that fashion) and the ways in which he uses them to reflect his culture. Things often don't make sense. Check. People like to believe in the integrity of the law. Bingo. A strong constitution will achieve results eventually. Strike. Things can work out between a man and a woman. Cheerio.
Unless Dassin is noiring film-noir by turning its conventions upside down to deconstruct its pretensions and shine a light through its constructive darkness, Thieves' Highway doesn't strike me as making a good fit with the definition I was taught to consider to be ridiculous years ago. Perhaps it's just a comedic film-noir where everything works out in the end. Perhaps it's about role-playing.
On his own.
Not sure if Thieves' Highway is a film-noir or not but some of the classic tropes are in place. Anxiety exists although it's perforated with moments of happiness and peaceful calm. The majority of the film's action takes place in the underground but this underground isn't predominantly destitute. Some members of the police force are honourable, there's a lack of jazz music, the straight-and-narrow fiancé (Barbara Lawrence) turns out to be the femme fatale, and the femme fatale (Valentina Cortese) has a definitive change of heart. Does she only have this change of heart because Garcos represents the second generation of an immigrant family, integrated and successful, and is Dassin saying that only film-noir heroes from ethnic backgrounds can save the troubled femme fatale?
There's a lot going on behind and in-between the scenes in Thieves' Highway and some of the logic's somewhat bizarre. I suppose there's a plot, an internal relationship between the different components maintaining the plot's structure, an external relationship between the plot's structure and established film noir conventions, and another external relationship between the director's interpretation of these conventions (what he's trying to say by employing them in this or that fashion) and the ways in which he uses them to reflect his culture. Things often don't make sense. Check. People like to believe in the integrity of the law. Bingo. A strong constitution will achieve results eventually. Strike. Things can work out between a man and a woman. Cheerio.
Unless Dassin is noiring film-noir by turning its conventions upside down to deconstruct its pretensions and shine a light through its constructive darkness, Thieves' Highway doesn't strike me as making a good fit with the definition I was taught to consider to be ridiculous years ago. Perhaps it's just a comedic film-noir where everything works out in the end. Perhaps it's about role-playing.
Opening Night
While knowledge and treaties, expectations and caricatures haunt her, as horrible people transmit their perspectives nonchalantly, striking yet stark, cutting yet insignificant, Myrtle Gordon (Gena Rowlands) prepares for Opening Night and artistically assails its cultural predisposition. A young fan is dead, struck by a car after having sought her attention. A brilliant role threatens her fluidity and unwittingly seeks to sequester her career. Friends offer advice which she refuses to indulge, instead choosing to transform its venom into a seductive performance, on her own terms. Is John Cassavetes a misogynist? He certainly presents how abrasive powerful men can be and how hard it must be for women to have to navigate a culture saturated with paternal misgivings, as they're expressed benevolently as if they represent some sort of divine goodwill, as if they reflect a woman's best interests. The psychological abuse Myrtle suffers directly presents the subtleties of a misogynistic discourse, thereby courting a misogynistic qualifier for the film. But it seemed to me as if Cassavetes was using misogyny to point out how trapped many women feel while championing a strong heroine who stoically and creatively endures and counters its virulence nevertheless, thereby realistically accepting its cultural and political prominence and productively demonstrating the herculean effort required to combat it. He's not playing softball and taking a walk through Central Park, he's presenting difficult and controversial material in order to capture the essence of a pervasive dark cultural tenant from which progress can be made (by those who accept his diagnosis and want to do something about it).
It's really quite ingenious.
Opening Night's a powerful film that doesn't bombard you with its thesis; rather, it modestly presents an artist struggling to maintain control of her craft while suffering a midlife crisis. The politics of performance and the relationship between strict adaptions of written material and inspired improvisations are dramatized within, and Myrtle's predicament (that of the successful female actress trying to preserve her identity in an industry dominated by masculine ideals) reflects that presented by several prominent Canadian journalists in regards to the feminine voice's place in 21st Century film. Rowlands's performance is strong enough to dig deep down into your psyche and propel you to feel what she feels, think what she thinks, as you desperately prepare to deliver the performance of a lifetime. On par with A Woman Under the Influence and stronger than Husbands and Faces, Opening Night delivers a play within a heroine within a film within a vision which courageously exposes a deep rooted cultural miscue.
It's really quite ingenious.
Opening Night's a powerful film that doesn't bombard you with its thesis; rather, it modestly presents an artist struggling to maintain control of her craft while suffering a midlife crisis. The politics of performance and the relationship between strict adaptions of written material and inspired improvisations are dramatized within, and Myrtle's predicament (that of the successful female actress trying to preserve her identity in an industry dominated by masculine ideals) reflects that presented by several prominent Canadian journalists in regards to the feminine voice's place in 21st Century film. Rowlands's performance is strong enough to dig deep down into your psyche and propel you to feel what she feels, think what she thinks, as you desperately prepare to deliver the performance of a lifetime. On par with A Woman Under the Influence and stronger than Husbands and Faces, Opening Night delivers a play within a heroine within a film within a vision which courageously exposes a deep rooted cultural miscue.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Made in U.S.A
It's occasionally important to treat fiction as if it's realistic and truth as if it's fabricated I think. At least that's what they taught me in school. Definitive strikes create signs to which meaning is attached for popularized agendas composed of particular events whose governing narrative forms a general conception. In this way we arrive at the truth and make executive decisions in relation to one of its specific interpretations and its collaborative polemic. Reason is a critical tool for such undertakings as it uses logic to evaluate hypotheses. The metaphorical dimension of collaborative interpretive polemics creates a layer of anti-truth from which the next generation of theories receives their political currency. Thinking about things in generational terms is somewhat of a mistake. Generations within generations germinate contradictory classifications assuming your economy is robust and permissive enough to absorb the fallout.
Jean-Luc Godard's Made in U.S.A terminates the truth with extreme flattery. A long list of manufactured expectations is subverted and traditional associations are disengaged from their cultural nuances apart from the idyllic feminine caricature represented by Paula Nelson (Anna Karina) in love. The Rolling Stones's "As Tear Goes By" reappears like Vinteuil's sonata interrogating the infantilization of the left by taking control of its means of production. An arrow flies throughout attaching itself to various established particularities which it accumulates and flattens through means of the continuous ironical disintegration of black and white agendas (like a long never ending line of aggregated kites establishing an evocative intellectual continuum). Suddenly there's a character, a motivation, a detective, murder. To the left to the right, there's no escape. Could it have been phrased differently? Seemingly random ideas and observations are more intriguing than structural designs when rationally designed according to the rhythms of a coordinated fluctuating poetic cinematic sensibility. Love that dress. May have mixed up the decades a bit in this review.
Jean-Luc Godard's Made in U.S.A terminates the truth with extreme flattery. A long list of manufactured expectations is subverted and traditional associations are disengaged from their cultural nuances apart from the idyllic feminine caricature represented by Paula Nelson (Anna Karina) in love. The Rolling Stones's "As Tear Goes By" reappears like Vinteuil's sonata interrogating the infantilization of the left by taking control of its means of production. An arrow flies throughout attaching itself to various established particularities which it accumulates and flattens through means of the continuous ironical disintegration of black and white agendas (like a long never ending line of aggregated kites establishing an evocative intellectual continuum). Suddenly there's a character, a motivation, a detective, murder. To the left to the right, there's no escape. Could it have been phrased differently? Seemingly random ideas and observations are more intriguing than structural designs when rationally designed according to the rhythms of a coordinated fluctuating poetic cinematic sensibility. Love that dress. May have mixed up the decades a bit in this review.
Red Riding Hood
Was excited regarding the release of Catherine Hardwicke's Red Riding Hood due to its examination of werewolves. But there are not many positive things to say about her film unfortunately. Yes, there is a werewolf, and it does star Gary Oldman and Lukas Haas, but apart from these facts it's one of the most sterile, wooden, nauseating teen melodramas I've seen, even more nauseating than New Moon. There's a beautiful woman betrothed to a man she doesn't love, desperately seeking to elope with her subject of desire. Her mother points out the financial benefits of making a good marriage and the rewards that come with financial security. The moon is cloaked in blood, the only time when werewolf bites can create new werewolves. A crusader's lust for victory turns him into the very monster he hopes to slay. The elements of an entertaining werewolf film are present but the execution lacks distinction. It's painful to watch as the predictable lines are heartily coated with sentimental prestige and hardwired blithering. I detected two moments where it seemed as if the film wasn't taking itself seriously, where I thought perhaps irony was its motivating factor and that it had therefore achieved a certain degree of redemption. But these moments pass quickly and fade into the night like crumbs sprinkled from a saltine delicately sleuthing their way through a living room's reconstituted equanimity. One for the money, two for the show. At least little Valerie (Amanda Seyfried) follows her heart.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Limitless
A struggling writer (Bradley Cooper as Eddie Mora) discovers he can access nearly 100% of his forgotten memories/observations after accidentally receiving a miracle drug from his ex-brother-in-law, and proceeds to excel. He finishes his novel in 4 days and afterwards sets out to make his fortune. The drug's side-effects are none to pleasant, however, and he soon experiences blackouts and debilitating nausea. But because he's functioning at such a high level, there are basically no professional consequences and he manages to maintain employment while suffering a dangerous breakdown. Thugs to whom he unfortunately gave the drug come calling for more and it soon becomes necessary to hire protection.
Much can be said about Neil Burger's Limitless. I thought it was an entertaining film whose execution lacked appeal yet still established several provocative dimensions which encourage further reflection. The ways in which Eddie handles his drug addiction for instance. It's like tobacco companies using their resources to find a cure for lung cancer or governments investing heavily in land reclamation technologies to make mining more environmentally friendly. Or drug addiction itself. Burger de/reconstructs the pharmaceutical industry throughout, evocatively investigating its extremes. The cult of the individual is presented existentially and communally as Eddie and Carl Van Loon (Robert De Niro) square off, and the ways in which critical synthetic intelligences (and pharmaceuticals) are valued by a knowledge based capitalist economy receives dramatic attention as well. Eddie's rise leaves behind a lot of plot-related baggage which can be justified by the fact that he's continually moving forward, the film moving to fast for its own internal construction, like a drug addict, but it still doesn't spend enough time examining the publication of his novel or the fact that he could have used his abilities to write something comparable to Proust. The film's writing also has a certain flair that disappears after Eddie abandons his writing career, including the introduction of the ex-brother-in-law. The lows Eddie hits and their consequent despair and paranoia are cultivated directly and poetically as he struggles to maintain, and I thought Burger did a good job of filmically distilling a bad hangover. Sort of funny how when he's a broke relatively sober writer everyone treats him like a drug addict but when he starts taking pharmaceuticals and gaining prestige he's revered. One of the morals suggests that beneficial drugs whose side-effects are curtailed can help you become a United States Senator if you hire shrewd lawyers to cover your ass while curtailing said side-effects and can outwit your enemies when they come to kill you. Libya of all countries is mentioned twice. I guess Gadhafi should have invested more in research . . .
Much can be said about Neil Burger's Limitless. I thought it was an entertaining film whose execution lacked appeal yet still established several provocative dimensions which encourage further reflection. The ways in which Eddie handles his drug addiction for instance. It's like tobacco companies using their resources to find a cure for lung cancer or governments investing heavily in land reclamation technologies to make mining more environmentally friendly. Or drug addiction itself. Burger de/reconstructs the pharmaceutical industry throughout, evocatively investigating its extremes. The cult of the individual is presented existentially and communally as Eddie and Carl Van Loon (Robert De Niro) square off, and the ways in which critical synthetic intelligences (and pharmaceuticals) are valued by a knowledge based capitalist economy receives dramatic attention as well. Eddie's rise leaves behind a lot of plot-related baggage which can be justified by the fact that he's continually moving forward, the film moving to fast for its own internal construction, like a drug addict, but it still doesn't spend enough time examining the publication of his novel or the fact that he could have used his abilities to write something comparable to Proust. The film's writing also has a certain flair that disappears after Eddie abandons his writing career, including the introduction of the ex-brother-in-law. The lows Eddie hits and their consequent despair and paranoia are cultivated directly and poetically as he struggles to maintain, and I thought Burger did a good job of filmically distilling a bad hangover. Sort of funny how when he's a broke relatively sober writer everyone treats him like a drug addict but when he starts taking pharmaceuticals and gaining prestige he's revered. One of the morals suggests that beneficial drugs whose side-effects are curtailed can help you become a United States Senator if you hire shrewd lawyers to cover your ass while curtailing said side-effects and can outwit your enemies when they come to kill you. Libya of all countries is mentioned twice. I guess Gadhafi should have invested more in research . . .
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in)
Tomas Alfredson's Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in) offers a discursive examination of exclusion which awkwardly yet agilely provides a malleable definition for the phenomenon. Little Eli (Lina Leandersson) has been 12 years old for some time and ensures her longevity by drinking the blood of the living. Little Oskar (Kåre Hedebrant) is picked on in school and must find a way to fight back against those who bully him. The two strike up a strange friendship full of silence and short conversations, Oskar learning to speak with girls, Eli reminding him that she is not one. As bodies pile up throughout town, Oskar strikes back against his foes, Eli's supplier of blood dries up, and a group of cats embrace their bellicose instinct. Friendship becomes vital to Eli and Oskar's perseverance as they duel with their enemies and carve a place for themselves in their culture's underground.
Awkwardness abounds in Let the Right One In and the film effectively examines what it means to be an outcast. Oskar's parents are divorced, he's thoughtful and quiet, bullies pick on him, and he doesn't have any friends. Hence, when he meets Eli it's awkward, especially since she possesses the confidence and personality he lacks, the two functioning as social and communal opposites. Alfredson captures the maladroit nature of a child's first encounter with a member of the opposite sex well and the sensibility that governs their interactions flows through the rest of his film. The teachers have awkward relationships with their students. Eli's discussions with 'guardian' Håkan (Per Ragnar) are awkward. The group of strangers Håkan tries to ignore are awkward and their awkwardness incrementally increases as the film unreels. All of this awkwardness never allows us to feel comfortable for more than a millisecond as it agilely transmits itself from scene to scene, developing a frustrated interminably visceral aesthetic whose parts shift to align and forge a chilling climax which detonates its disenfranchised integrity. Being a teenager can often be awkward, as can being a vampire. Let the Right One In distills said awkwardness into an irresistible piece of dexterous disenchantment, delegating its vanquished restrictions for days to come.
Awkwardness abounds in Let the Right One In and the film effectively examines what it means to be an outcast. Oskar's parents are divorced, he's thoughtful and quiet, bullies pick on him, and he doesn't have any friends. Hence, when he meets Eli it's awkward, especially since she possesses the confidence and personality he lacks, the two functioning as social and communal opposites. Alfredson captures the maladroit nature of a child's first encounter with a member of the opposite sex well and the sensibility that governs their interactions flows through the rest of his film. The teachers have awkward relationships with their students. Eli's discussions with 'guardian' Håkan (Per Ragnar) are awkward. The group of strangers Håkan tries to ignore are awkward and their awkwardness incrementally increases as the film unreels. All of this awkwardness never allows us to feel comfortable for more than a millisecond as it agilely transmits itself from scene to scene, developing a frustrated interminably visceral aesthetic whose parts shift to align and forge a chilling climax which detonates its disenfranchised integrity. Being a teenager can often be awkward, as can being a vampire. Let the Right One In distills said awkwardness into an irresistible piece of dexterous disenchantment, delegating its vanquished restrictions for days to come.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Sympathy for the Devil
Showcasing The Rolling Stones (1968) as they record different versions of "Sympathy for the Devil," Jean-Luc Godard's Sympathy for the Devil tamely presents the to-be-legendary band while interspersing footage of the Black Panthers, a verdant interview, and an idealistic book shop. Political verse read from different texts is interjected throughout as graffiti artists championing the left take to the streets. Rich with ambiguous irony and multidimensional interpretive layers, Godard phantasmagorically makes several points which, as far as I can tell, seek to establish, amongst other things, a Marxist film industry in the West and a legion of intellectuals who pursue their activity by abandoning traditional paradigms, creating new compelling forms to provocatively distribute their countercultural content, i.e., The Rolling Stones's "Sympathy for the Devil," communism being demonic in Western eyes precisely because it attempts to politicize the teachings of Jesus Christ while giving birth to monsters like Stalin. Are artists using the internet to create a politico-economic infrastructure that can effectively sustain Marxism in order to promote a more peaceful egalitarian culture that doesn't pervert its altruistic ideals while specific outlets continue to foster a divisive mainstream capitalist agenda? In Sympathy for the Devil, Godard sets up culture and art in opposition so the aforementioned could lead to a material synthesis of some kind (a Dharma Punx video game?). The verdant interview depicts a woman named Eve Democracy (Anne Wiazemsky) being asked wide ranging questions in a forest to which she only answers "yes" or "no," which, according to my interpretation, states that 1960s women were politically situated within a wild uncultivated box that limited their productivity to monosyllabic replies which men preferred and ignored because they possessed no elaboration but still provided the illusion of a voice. The Black Panthers make sharp points concerning language and communication etc., notably in regards to semantics and the ways in which different groups can speak the same language and have no idea what the other is trying to say. A lot more could have been illustrated in the film if The Rolling Stones weren't consistently brought back to the forefront, although, since they're one of my favourite bands and their consistent return represents form working hand in hand with content, it's not such a bad thing. Whether or not they forged and continue to forge a countercultural realm in line with Godard's vision could be the anti-intellectual subject of a poetic montage worked into the chorus of a new podcast.
Rango
Having accidentally escaped from his comfy aquarium, the theatrical Rango (Johnny Depp) is thrust upon the real world's stage. Finding himself in the small Western town of Dirt, he must instantaneously invent a hard-boiled character and deliver a stunning performance. When challenged he doesn't back down and fate consequently hands him a thunderous climax. His reward: the job of town Sheriff. His duty: protect the people of Dirt from ne'er do wells and bring back the water. The town has been drying up and the water that used to vigorously flow has stopped delivering its revitalizing bounty. As necessity demands action and circumstances require trust, Rango mystically discovers his edge and instinctively prepares for the final countdown.
In Rango, Gore Verbinksi works within the Western tradition in order to try and democratize its black and white contours. A monopoly has been sinisterly established thereby preventing the fair and equitable distribution of wealth. A comical hero strikes back, affirming the rights of his citizens in the hopes of restoring their dignity. Aided by a shapeshifting divinity, he develops the confidence he never knew he had and learns to sublimate his fears. Unfortunately, while the basic plot attempts to champion democracy, the formal elements are conservative as they come. The lead female character (Abigail Breslin as Priscilla) is wooden and static, occasionally lapsing into comatose trances when overwhelmed, and doesn't exactly disseminate a multidimensional presence. The people are capable of understanding Rango's idiosyncratic diction but they are still portrayed as foolish and inconsequential in their attempts to do so. Rango does possess an intriguing degree of self-awareness insofar as Rango is aware that he is on a peculiar quest that is being mythologized by a musical group of owls, and from time to time the film highlights its self-referentiality (ambiguously suggesting that Rango never left his aquarium). But at sundown, the quest and story are predominantly Rango's, not the people of Dirt's, even though Rango's purpose is to save the town and provide its inhabitants with a decent standard of living. More scenes showcasing the personalities of the townsfolk would have increased the democratic value of Rango's currency ten-fold.
In Rango, Gore Verbinksi works within the Western tradition in order to try and democratize its black and white contours. A monopoly has been sinisterly established thereby preventing the fair and equitable distribution of wealth. A comical hero strikes back, affirming the rights of his citizens in the hopes of restoring their dignity. Aided by a shapeshifting divinity, he develops the confidence he never knew he had and learns to sublimate his fears. Unfortunately, while the basic plot attempts to champion democracy, the formal elements are conservative as they come. The lead female character (Abigail Breslin as Priscilla) is wooden and static, occasionally lapsing into comatose trances when overwhelmed, and doesn't exactly disseminate a multidimensional presence. The people are capable of understanding Rango's idiosyncratic diction but they are still portrayed as foolish and inconsequential in their attempts to do so. Rango does possess an intriguing degree of self-awareness insofar as Rango is aware that he is on a peculiar quest that is being mythologized by a musical group of owls, and from time to time the film highlights its self-referentiality (ambiguously suggesting that Rango never left his aquarium). But at sundown, the quest and story are predominantly Rango's, not the people of Dirt's, even though Rango's purpose is to save the town and provide its inhabitants with a decent standard of living. More scenes showcasing the personalities of the townsfolk would have increased the democratic value of Rango's currency ten-fold.
Monday, March 7, 2011
La Captive
Imprisoned by his theories, obsessively recycling miserable forecasts regarding his relationship's future, driven by jealousy, and tortured by ideals, Simon (Stanislas Merhar) interrogates his desire in Chantal Akerman's La Captive as Ariane (Sylvie Testud) helplessly perseveres. At least that's what happens in In Search of Lost Time and La Captive follows the text closely enough to suggest that this is what's happening in the film. Bored and frustrated by his inability to create, Simon abandons his attempts to prove himself intellectually and focuses his attention on Ariane's past. Convinced he can understand her present motivations through recourse to her anecdotes and observations, he pursues his goal of categorizing her purity. Being incapable of distinguishing fact from subterfuge, his objective investigations quizzically qualify the labyrinthine other. Leave it alone, let bygones be bygones, just have a good time. Take it easy, relax, drink some wine, she's likely done everything you're considering, twice. Without the guidance of American pop culture to rely upon, Simon sinks deeper and deeper into the abyss. In the end, Ariane does the only thing she can to allow him to find an answer as he assiduously scours the ocean searching for his peace of mind.
A lot of the depth from the fifth part of Proust's novel is lost in La Captive's translation. Françoise (Liliane Rovère) and Simon's Grandmother (Françoise Bertin) don't make an impact and Mme Verdurin's famous snub of M. de Charlus is absent. I don't know how you could have worked the later into a film that's less than three hours and doesn't include some kind of internal narration but an attempt would have been nice. At least a scene with M. de Charlus. The long empty corridors and lengthy nocturnal shots point to Simon's troubles within the novel but without more material it's difficult to capture Proust's incessant meticulous analysis (but it was still fun to write about it as if it's there). But La Captive isn't meant to relate to In Search of Lost Time religiously since it's a film that is only based on the novel. Bearing this in mind, greater liberties with Proust's masterpiece could have been taken (although it's so revered taking such liberties requires disciplined audacity! [I suppose Simon's Grandmother does die in The Guermantes Way]). But Akerman's probably sick and tired of hearing devotees of the novel complain about what's missing in her well-crafted film and it does possess a morosely anxious distraught internal consistency that's rigidly maintained throughout. The moral: don't try and ever love anyone while consistently falling in love. And have multiple extensive lies which you trust ready by your side when loving so that one day you can convince yourself that you've found something to hold onto.
A lot of the depth from the fifth part of Proust's novel is lost in La Captive's translation. Françoise (Liliane Rovère) and Simon's Grandmother (Françoise Bertin) don't make an impact and Mme Verdurin's famous snub of M. de Charlus is absent. I don't know how you could have worked the later into a film that's less than three hours and doesn't include some kind of internal narration but an attempt would have been nice. At least a scene with M. de Charlus. The long empty corridors and lengthy nocturnal shots point to Simon's troubles within the novel but without more material it's difficult to capture Proust's incessant meticulous analysis (but it was still fun to write about it as if it's there). But La Captive isn't meant to relate to In Search of Lost Time religiously since it's a film that is only based on the novel. Bearing this in mind, greater liberties with Proust's masterpiece could have been taken (although it's so revered taking such liberties requires disciplined audacity! [I suppose Simon's Grandmother does die in The Guermantes Way]). But Akerman's probably sick and tired of hearing devotees of the novel complain about what's missing in her well-crafted film and it does possess a morosely anxious distraught internal consistency that's rigidly maintained throughout. The moral: don't try and ever love anyone while consistently falling in love. And have multiple extensive lies which you trust ready by your side when loving so that one day you can convince yourself that you've found something to hold onto.
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