Burden of Dreams

If you're ever under a lot of pressure to achieve a difficult goal, which seems beyond accomplishing too impossible to ever attain, perhaps watch Les Blank's Burden of Dreams as it films the making of Fitzcarraldo, and Werner Herzog's Herculean labours trying to finish the chaotic anti-epic.

Then watch Fitzcarraldo itself and consider that he actually did finish it. With setbacks that would have sent Olympic athletes home in exasperation. No matter what he got 'er done.

I don't know if these films are part of a master class in improvisational independent filmmaking, where the students study Herzog's endeavours and reach conclusions as to his methods.

Or arduously research grand ambition as applied to making international films, where extremely complicated and delicate agreements must be reached with critical Natives.

Or practically study the provision of supplies to an isolated camp deep in the jungle, where hundreds of extras and film personnel had to be well-fed to fend off the boredom.

With the deep pockets of a Hollywood studio it would have perhaps been a different story, although I imagine they would have backed out after the setbacks became too outrageous (punitive raids etc.).

Credit to Herzog for never backing down and to every cast and crew member who stuck it out till the end. 

Hyperintense ominous immersion. 

Ineffable formidable frustration. 

Heart of Darkness comes to mind and Apocalypse Now as well no doubt, as if Herzog was somewhat like Kurtz madly delegating lost in the jungle.

Interviews capture distinct moments alternative viewpoints his different moods, many of them courageous and vigorously defiant while some give way to augmented misery. 

The diaries of Les Blank and Maureen Gosling excerpts of which come with the Criterion Edition of Burden of Dreams (they used to anyway, I bought my copy 20 years ago), offer disenchanting insights into the chaos and some of the decisions that had to be made.

Still to make them to be so artistically obsessed the bona-fide-mad-genius expediently concocting, reflexively adjusting to constant insane pressure, with everyone confused seeking guidance and instruction.

While Kinski erupts in fury (Blank doesn't focus much on Kinski but you can see it in Herzog's My Best Fiend) and the threat of mutiny ubiquitously languishes. 

The absolute pursuit of compulsive artistry. 

People actually risking their lives.

I don't know if there ever was what could be considered a plan.

If there was and it was written down it should be in a museum.

Copies available for study.

With mind-bogglingly resilient discipline. 

*Cool shots of jungle animals at times. 

Die Kleine Hexe (The Little Witch)

A novice witch (Karoline Herfurth as Kleine Hexe), full of pluck and curious mischief, abounding with energy and playful vigour, seeks to attend the communal Walpurgis Night, even though she lacks the requisite age.

She's only 127.

But she still feels it's in her best interests to clandestinely attend, ignoring the counsel of her loving raven (Axel Prahl as Abraxas), who advises caution with reliable amiability.

She's bored and can't resist the lure of good times however, and soon finds herself engaged in outright revel, doing her best to cavort at ease, underneath the enchanting night sky.

But she's discovered, and reprimanded severely, forced to engage in voluminous study, under threat of the loss of her powers.

She's too light of heart for the others, yet wants to fit in regardless, but has trouble spreading fear and contempt, as she's coldly encouraged to do.

Abraxas warns her.

And her actions are under surveillance.

But warmth and good cheer still spellbindingly animate, as if kindness were resolute, and understanding crystal clear.

A spirited apprenticeship.

Enriching good deeds.

Die Kleine Hexe (The Little Witch) briskly excels at conjuring mirth and wonder, unconcerned with traditional role play, enamoured with innocent charm.

Tasks can indeed be clad in bemusement, and rigour as fabled as distress or scorn, but slowly and surely hard work endeavours, to bewitch the belittlingly thorned.

If you're not fond of Kleine Hexe and her raven, the film may seem a little (or way) too much, but if you appreciate their wondrous candour, it overflows with bizarro amour.

He's a cutey.

Grown weary with the passage of time.

Focusing too intently on Hexe's relationship with the older witches may have resulted in too much conflict, even if the ending's far too easy.

As it stands, Hexe's goodwill and daring affably adjudicate, even if she struggles beneath a grouchy unamused cloud.

Not Abraxas, the other witches.

I thought it was going to be a cartoon when I bought my ticket, but was still pleasantly surprised by the sets and costumes.

Not as well balanced as the Harry Potter films in terms of magical diversity, old witches bad, young witches good, but perhaps such a comment is well beyond the film's target audience, which may have been no older than nine, at least younger than 11, although really, what's a postmodernist to say?

I thought it might be a new European Secret of NIMH or Last Unicorn.

And wish ravens could talk.

Alright film.

Overflowing with fun.

Character driven.

The Hustle

I suppose I don't know much about con artistry, but I've never considered it to be anything less than shady, a disreputable means to earn a living, for as long as you can avoid suspicion.

Whenever it shows up in the news, I don't exactly recall the Vampire Lestat, certainly not ye olde Robin Hood, nor anything remotely spry and charitable.

But perhaps a code does exist between some of its practitioners, complete with its own particular form of tithing, and it's possible that it's only upheld by the most ingenious amongst them, which explains why it's never been deciphered.

Inveterate concealment.

Undetected dividends.

Don't mistake this for a conspiracy theory, it's just lighthearted speculation, it's incredible what people are willing to believe these days, and how they could possibly believe it having graduated high school.

The creative mind speculates, postures, theorizes, contemplates.

But the logical mind applies rationality.

Considers the truth value of a proposition.

And doesn't drink bleach or think minorities are taking over.

A code of sorts exists in this film inasmuch as Penny (Rebel Wilson) and Josephine (Anne Hathaway) are depicted cheating scoundrels.

Not all of the time by any means, but when confronted with what they think is genuine honesty, they still demonstrate concerned sympathy.

Penny is hands-on, rough and tumble, down and dirty, scandalous.

Her scams are light yet lucrative and she enjoys her free time indisputably.

Josephine's more sophisticated, but no stranger to feigned affection, aware of the benefits of the single life, with little patience for soundproof tomfoolery.

She tries to get rid of Penny after she shows up on her Beaumont-sur-Mer turf, which naturally encourages her to stay, which calls for a chaotic plan B.

They wind up in a duel of sorts, the first to con their agreed upon mark out of $500,000 the winner.

But the mark can't help it if he's downright adorable.

Generating the sweetest of codes.

It's daring and brash and raunchy and elegant, a verifiably bold juxtaposition radiating sincere gnarly charm.

I never did see Bedtime Story, but I did see Dirty Rotten Scoundrels several times.

But that's beside the point, The Hustle making inroads of its own, even if the next incarnation may diversify itself even further, if it takes the O Brother, Where Art Thou? approach.

Not bad.

The Grey

A plane crashes in the sub-arctic Alaskan wilderness and its survivors find themselves hunted by a pack of blood thirsty wolves. Who knows why this particular pack decides to suddenly start attacking Liam Neeson (Ottway) and his co-workers (Neeson theorizes that they have crashed too close to their den) but they uncharacteristically do and Joe Carnahan's The Grey unreels in their pursuit.

Thinking they'll be safer in the woods and that a rescue team will never find them, this group of rugged drifters and loners leaves the crash sight and struggles to make their way across a barren stretch of frozen ground amidst brutal winds and freezing temperatures, one of them devoured en route.

After the rest of them make it, the wolves continue to circle and prey and in between confrontations we learn more about their troubled lives. They continue to move forward with the pack at their backs, arguing and conversing along the way.

In the end only one remains, having shockingly persevered longer than his fallen brethren.

Ready to battle the alpha.

Ignoring the logistics of everything that actually takes place in The Grey and focusing on how it recklessly pits a wild and brazen group of freewheeling hard-living workers up against their grizzled natural counterparts in a ludicrous unforgiving clash of human versus animal kind, may make the film more digestible.

In terms of the absurd.

Figuring that Neeson would be given the majority of the lines, I was interested in seeing whether or not his dramatic flexibility was still capable of motivating an entire film, from beginning to end. But my calculations were incorrect and the supporting cast is given plenty of room to manoeuvre, giving Neeson time to sit back and carefully structure his lines with shrewd deliberate nuances whose intermittent interjections and patient intonations carefully unify the supporting cast's dynamics in a thoughtful cohesive heterogeneity.

While the wolves constantly disrupt their unity.

Some of the lines seem like they came straight from an oil rig as well which gives them an endearing authentic quality.

In terms of what to do should your plane crash in a remote location, The Grey offers little practical advice.

Unless wolves begin to insatiably stalk you.

But as far as films celebrating derelict itinerant dispositions go, The Grey's not that bad, and perhaps by making its subject matter foolish, Carnahan tries to lure us into the narrative unconsciously, by harnessing the helpless qualities of our disbelief, thereby making us feel more like the characters in his film.

SUPER

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

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

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

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

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

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

After complimenting his eggs.

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

And playing by the unwritten rules.

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

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

Black Swan

Discovering that hidden talent, the improvised malevolent sensual complement to your precise demanding technical expertise, with competitors vindictively waiting in the wings, with a smile and a patronizingly friendly remark, ingratiating, lackadaisical, treacherous, while a mental illness, hitherto concealed and dominated, can no longer be subjugated as pressure reallocates psychological resources to spontaneous professional challenges, and exquisitely chaotic repercussions must be embraced. Mother will learn to adjust. Romance is simply an illusion. He could certainly be more of a prick. It's the seductive consequence of perfection. Darren Aronofsky once again coaches his cast into delivering first rate performances as Natalie Portman internally glides her way through Swan Lake. Intertwining an artist's subjective deconstruction with her universal adherence to and revitalization of performance standards, Black Swan suggests the costs of multidimensional characterizations can indeed be extreme, if not everlasting. Smutty and taciturn and evocative and sinister, paranoia is unleashed and interrogated as Nina Sayers learns to dance the Black Swan. While her paranoia is logical, as it increases in proportion to her responsibility it realistically manifests her worst fears and results in her best performance.