Captain America: The Winter Soldier

In/directly contextualizing striking pre-emptive phenomenons, Captain America: The Winter Soldier bravely condenses controversial polarities, from which it extracts a democratic essence, sentimentally sublime in its naiveté.

Perhaps beating Transcendence to the punch.

The issue of brilliant Nazi war criminals finding sanctuary in the United States after World War II is acknowledged, diabolical agents of HYDRA having nested themselves within S.H.I.E.L.D, whose limitless technological resources have given them free reign to menace.

They hope to take out millions of enemies in one extremely precise swoop, the ultimate pre-emptive strike, internationally derailing syndications of law and order, egregiously ignoring the global human factor.

The infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D partially vindicates Eric Snowden and Julian Assange as their methods are proactively defended by Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson).

Radiantly representing today's youth.

The key to the relationship between these plot threads and the film's subconscious depiction of America's current identity lies in the Winter Soldier (Sebastian Stan) himself, who has no identity, who was revived to serve HYDRA and serve HYDRA alone, the memory of who he once was having been shattered into oblivion.

He is recognized by Captain America (Chris Evans), however, who is also having identity issues, yet he remembers why America (and Canada) fought during the second World War, thereby earning the trust of Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson).

Like Thor: The Dark World, Winter Soldier struggles to find itself during its first 40 minutes or so, although in this case such disappointments fit perfectly.

It's important to remember that when great actors aren't performing at the top of their game, it's okay to ask them to do additional takes.

I don't know how you'd go about doing this.

Just don't go Godard on them (see Richard Brody's Everything is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard).

What follows is a thrilling politicized retrocrazed rush, Steve Rodgers outshining Themistocles, another captivating Marvel film, oh what a world what a world.

After Earth

Professional militaristic familial dynamics unexpectedly find themselves stranded within a forbidding ravenous planetary panopticon, whose evolutionary criteria must be subsumed then surmounted, as predatory predicaments transform snacks into sentiments, in M. Night Shyamalan's After Earth.

The film's more straightforward.

Establishing a basic super-easy-to-follow far too predictable framework, whose truculent dimensions highlight the potential social impacts of an exhausted environment, it focuses intently on a fearless father (Will Smith) and his spirited son, the only survivors of a craft which crash lands on Earth centuries after humans were forced to flee.

The frame isn't necessarily a problem since After Earth's obviously made for a generalized teenage audience, and I liked the fear speech, but, apart from one scene which indicates that enormous buffaloesque herds have returned, I thought the futuristic depiction of Earth could have used more flora and fauna.

Perhaps due to Epic's contemporaneous release this feature was deliberately limited.

Epic for girls, After Earth for boys?

No comment.

Tsurugidake: Ten no ki (The Summit: A Chronicle of Stones)

Mountains. Climbin' 'em. Exercising precision in their classification. Work rationalized according to stubborn bureaucratic consistencies. An imperial map in the making.

Japan's military has one more mountain to catalogue before said map can be expertly articulated.

All they need is the right person for the job.

Yoshitaro Shibasaki (Tadanobu Asano) has climbed his fair share of mountains but finds the unconquered Mt. Tsurugidake somewhat intimidating. Pressed by his superiors to perform for posterity he overcomes his initial hesitation, with the aid of volumes delicately cared for by his local librarians, and proceeds unabated. At the risk of offending villagers whose religion forbids challenging Mt. Tsurugidake's treacherous peaks, he finds a local guide (Teruyuki Kagawa as Chojiro Uji) and begins his quest. Together they search for a route to the summit, hoping to outwit the adventurous Alpine Club who has declared they will climb the mountain first, thereby hoping to tarnish the military's reputation.

While Yoshitaro and Chojiro explore using equipment crafted by the ingenuity of the Japanese people, the Alpine Club adopts European technologies.

A number of survey stones must be placed at the top of the peaks which surround Mt. Tsurugidake as well, in order for the military's mapmakers to realize their cartographic ambitions.

Towers must also be built around these stones. Time callously ticks past. A team of courageous individuals is assembled. The snow keeps falling.

Daisaku Kimura's Tsurugidake: Ten no ki (The Summit: A Chronicle of Stones) is an epic tale, modestly crafted according to traditional guidelines. An intransigent macho administration makes shortsighted decisions while a group of bold workers heroically carve new ground. Elsewhere lines are crossed but respect is maintained as openminded resiliency takes into account alternative points of view.

In fact, apart from the military administration, respect permeates every aspect of this film and it was comforting to watch as people didn't get bogged down by petty differences for 139 minutes.

The result is a subjective victory for two tenacious teams who refuse to let the pursuit of an intractable ideal disrupt their herculean achievement.

Sticking together. Trying to find a way. Accepting that the realities structuring certain professions are simply larger than life. And continuing to strive onwards even though survival instincts consistently question the logic of your perseverance.

The creation of this film directly corresponds to the endeavours bravely undertaken internally and externally by its cast, a harmonious collaboration firmly sustained between subject and object.

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.

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.

The Day the Earth Stood Still

The latest version of The Day the Earth Stood Still (directed by Scott Derrickson) sees Keanu Reeves (as Klaatu the alien) not trying to save humanity but destroy it. Aliens have decided that the Earth must be saved from us humans and our destructive ways since their statistics state that only a scant number of planets possess the qualities necessary to sustain life (and their projections indicate that life upon ours is irrevocably suffocating). Klaatu attempts to reason with Presidential Representative Regina Jackson (Kathy Bates) but she ain't listenin' to no alien (and neither is the President who never shows up even when the situation becomes catastrophic [a critical chide at George W.'s political awareness]). Consequently, he decides the planet must be terminated but fortunately for Earth's residents determined scientist Helen Benson (Jennifer Connelly) has just enough yip to contradict his forthright yap.

The film's not the greatest. Its format is sound and it unravels in a mildly entertaining fashion but there's no paprika in this bowl of chili and Connelly's good looks don't make up for the lack of structural subtlety (they are constantly highlighted). The actors portray their characters well but David Scarpa and Edmund H. North's by-the-book script leaves them little room to radiate (note James Hong's [Big Trouble in Little China] heartfelt cameo as Dr. Wu however). I liked how the alien 'robot' unleashes his plague nevertheless: army personnel hack away at his almost impregnable frame and sever a piece from which a nest of exponentially expanding synthetic insects lunge and swarm (a warning to volatile insurgents launching attacks against foes possessing significant militaristic advantages). But I was checking my watch when I should have been analyzing, sipping my cola when I could have been critiquing, shifting out of focus where I was supposed to be zooming in, having a seriously difficult time sitting still.

Iron Man

Pretty surprised by Jon Favreau's new flick Iron Man. I was expecting another boring hyped-up piece of sensationalized gobblygook and was pleased to view an entertaining, multidimensional narrative, packed with an explosive punch.

The buzz surrounding Robert Downey Jr.'s performance is bang on: he really is exceptional. The supporting cast is solid as well but it's hard to imagine what this film would have been without Downey's charisma holding it together. In many ways, the plot is quite formulaic with the usual touch of frustrating militaristic bravado. But Favreau skillfully and subtly plays with the ideological conventions built into this formula, delivering a profound critique of its conventions, while reasserting them as well. The four conventions I'd like to examine here are misogyny, the military, individuality, and fantasy, critically cast in a mold of socialist iron.

Note that I've never read the comic book and don't plan on drawing a comparison between the two.

Within action movies, female characters tend to be both beautiful and promiscuous (Bad Bond Girls), or beautiful and somewhat chaste (Miss Moneypenny and Good Bond Girls). Rarely does a female lead who isn't uber-attractive score one of these parts (accept perhaps for Grace Jones), and if they find their way into the film they usually have backup roles (note the woman who looks like a man in Iron Man's opening moments). The male lead sleeps with the bad girl who is aggressive and daring (and consequently evil within the eyes of the patriarchy) in the opening moments and saves his hot feisty encounter with the good-domestic girl until the end of the film (she takes care of the hero and keeps him safe and only receives his affections after he has returned from work [wherein we discover the brilliance underlying the plot of Martin Campbell's Casino Royale]). Within Iron Man, Pepper Pots (Gwyneth Paltrow) keeps Tony Stark's life together while he is busy applying his genius to the production of weapons, and has scruples when it comes to dating her boss. Christine Everhart (Leslie Bibb) critiques Stark's way of life but instantly swoons when propositioned (she was only propositioned because of her looks). Hence, within Iron Man we have traditional eye-dropping superbabes playing stereotypical roles patriarchically carved out for them centuries ago, and the hero manipulates them (sexually with the bad girl, domestically with the good one) while manufacturing weapons to ensure America's global predominance. Simultaneously, however, without the assistance and persistence of these women, Tony Stark's turnaround would not have been possible. Moreover, when he begins to consider that being a Master of War is somewhat scurrilous (I love how the military always takes credit for medical advances, as if there wouldn't be advances in medical technology without war, and as if it doesn't create situations that demand medical advances based upon the catastrophic effects of its designs), it's the 'bad girl' (the independent lefty) who causes him to change his ways and the 'good girl' who has trouble accepting the change (Favreau pointing out the paradox within which the stereotypical good ‘bond-girl’ functions: she feels good serving her Master as long as he's a promiscuous monster and can't deal with the reality brought about by his reversal of fortune [note that his point would have been stronger if both these girls weren't drop-dead gorgeous]).

Manifest Destiny (the world has become the west coast) finds its stripes in the sale of weapons. Tony Stark is appalled to discover that his weapons are being sold to other countries and supporting the terrorist networks he designed them to thwart (how could a genius be that naïve?). He is captured by Afghani rebels, one who saves his life with an ingenious device that hooks his heart up to a car battery. In order to help Tony escape his saviour must die, allegorically pointing out that many foreigners will die in the pursuit of the American dream, even one's who support their interests. Jim Rhodes (Terrence Howard) stands for the military and his character is used to point out how socialist politics have been transferred to it, the united military standing as one, i.e., don't stand as one to receive universal health care, higher wages, and cheaper education, stand as one within the army. Favreau demonstrates how the sale of American weapons throughout the globe supports the terroristic infrastructure they have set out to destroy, while using Tony Stark as a symbol of change, i.e., we need to stop supporting an aggressive military, treating it as if its motives embody a divine altruistic panacea. In order to destroy the weapons he has manufactured, Tony Stark builds another weapon, and his nemesis/quasi-Oedipal foe (Jeff Bridges) points out the irony of his situation during their final battle (by pointing out this irony, Favreau skillfully critiques ideologues who find progressive outcomes through the manufacture of bigger and better weapons [eventually no one will go to war because everyone will have the atomic bomb!]). Within this battle, we have a young, new vision for the military symbolically represented by Tony Stark (the son) fighting against the patriarchal father figure (Obadiah Stane). In the film's concluding moments, the military asks Tony to simply read from a script and not reveal his identity as Iron Man. Instead, he ignores the script and tells the press that he is Iron Man, a bold move, for within comic book fantasies it's usually essential that the hero maintain his or her secret identity. By doing this, Stark deconstructs the fantastic elements of his lifestyle by actually telling the truth to the people, thereby symbolically representing a new, young American political ethos that isn't afraid to acknowledge the brutal contradictions of its imperialist legacy, Favreau championing a future where American political ideals match American political practices. Stark plays by his own rules and doesn't follow the script that has been traditionally cast for him. The main problem with his role is that he is only one man, and in order for universal social programs to be created within the United States the many must align as one in order to demand access to health care, higher wages, and a decrease in their military spending. Stark's character demonstrates the power of American individuality and the progress that can be achieved by individuals willing to stand up to the administration (Martin Luther King, Jr. for instance). Unfortunately, the film ends before we can see whether or not anyone is willing to join him.

Iron Man's central symbol is Tony Stark's heart, a technological circular wonder with a luminescent glow. This heart can be thought of as representing the circular nature of political dynamics, or, the fact that governments throughout the ages have continued to reassert and revitalize peace through military conflict. By including this symbol (and focusing upon it so intently), does Favreau mean that the American political landscape can be revitalized by innovative individuals who no longer support the military, and that if these individuals find their way into the political spectrum, perhaps the circular nature of its imperialist center can in fact begin to embody a glowing peaceful spirit? Or is he just playing with the old stereotypes and trying to make his traditional vision seem innovative by not killing the promiscuous woman and showcasing a hero who isn't afraid of coming out of the closet, in Walter Benjamin's terms, rendering a political situation where the individual can experience their own destruction as a pleasure of the first order? I really don't know, and don't have the time or the money to figure it out, but he has created a multi-layered film that doesn't offer any easy answers and is open to polemical interpretations, made, elfishly, for swingers.

Transformers

Michael Bay's new film Transformers unravels a teenaged synthesis of hormones, military paranoia, and tryin' too hard comedy. The Decepticons and Autobots are back in another epic battle, fighting over the Allspark, a giant cube with the power to create or destroy worlds. Along for the ride are a number of would be high school heroes, numerous military personnel, cranky, mind-your-own-business parents, and the ever weird and wonderful John Turturro. The action sequences are slight, the offbeat comedy tedious (except for the masturbation bit), and Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman's script borrows heavily from every big time blockbuster this side of Cybertron. Focusing primarily on the myriad humanoid characters, Transformers forgets the main reason behind Transformers: Transformers. Instead of providing us with an elaborate narrative, transporting the Hasbroian folklore to another dimension, Bay caters too intensely to his earthly plot devices and quickly drowns his tale in banal political mumbo jumbo (note that Iranian scientists are not to be credited but North Korea's military is on par with that of China). Optimus Prime does wax quixotic about goodness and we are briefly reintroduced to Megatron's acerbic abuse of Starscream, but their scenes are far to brief, making me wish I'd simply rented seasons one through three, as well as the first full-length feature film.

Azumi

Ryuhei Kitamura's samurai film Azumi delivers the blood and gut goods. From beginning to end, we're treated to bloodthirsty bitchin' battles, the confusing samurai ethical code, and mellow, strained guitar riffs, that come across as a mix between the soundtrack for Y tu Mama Tambien and a subdued Joe Satriani. The music is occasionally vexing but unyielding in the development of its aesthetic. Azumi (Aya Ueto) is discovered by samurai master Gessai (Yoshio Harada) as a young girl, after her mother has died, and she is subsequently trained with 9 other youths to become elite assassins. Their training is idyllic: they grow up in a pastoral paradise, aliens to town or even village life, consumed by their samurai commitment, unaware of their mission to come. Master Gessai is training them to kill warlords before they plunge Japan into another bloody civil conflict; Gessai was provided with this task at the end of the Battle of Sekigahara, a particularly brutal affair that led both Gessai and his master to devote their lives to ending such bloodbaths ahead of time. But before Gessai can begin beginning to end such conflicts, he needs to prepare his young students for the conflict awaiting them, and, consequently, orders them to pair up with their best friend in a fight to the death, the winners possessing the iron constitution necessary to cleanse Japan of its warlike virulence. This death battle is a little difficult to take and leaves an unsettling feeling in the viewer, especially near the end when Azumi herself squares off against the effete killing machine Bigomaru Mogami (Joe Odagiri), amidst a contingency of corpses (that closely resembles that from Sekigahara, a scene which provides Azumi with the same ethical concerns found within Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch or Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia). Was it better to kill off five elite warriors hours before heading out on their first assignment, better than taking them along on the mission where their presence would have likely had positive results? This question haunts Azumi's background and provides its ethical dimension with a strong examination of what it means to be a hero.

300

300 packs a solid camp punch but no one collected any kindling. The trite, hackneyed, anachronistic dialogue is so ludicrously over-the-top that it’s sickeningly entertaining. But the racist overtones are disturbing, the consistent narration irritating, and the 'pure' nature of the heroes frightening. A film for teenagers searching for T & A and predictable cliches. Tyler Bates' music is viscid, Gerard Butler's King Leonidas is solid, and the film's over-the-top characteristics detach the reality from its narrative, making one less timid during the battle scenes (i.e., who cares). But one finds oneself laughing where there should be tears, scoffing where there should be allegiance, and rebelling amongst submissive persuasions. 300 may find a home in the Midnight Movies' circuit thanks to its off beat comic dimension and scintillating visuals, but as far as serious fantasy flicks spoil, this sortie is no Excalibur.

The Last King of Scotland

Enjoyed Kevin MacDonald's The Last King of Scotland. Can't go to in-depth at this point, but I will point out that it’s nice to see a film that displays the exceptional acting talents of both Gillian Anderson and Forest Whitaker. I haven't seen Anderson in anything since the X-Files ended, and her brief role within The Last King demonstrates her diversity. Always great to see an actor who has been slotted into a particular role for over a decade provide us with a performance that helps to completely redefine their image (similar to Brad Dourif within Deadwood). The same can be said for Whitaker's performance which is brilliantly mad and creepy. I've been a Whitaker backer since The Crying Game and it’s great to see his voracious appetite for new levels of achievement on full display within. He provides a chilling portrait of a tyrant, a gripping encounter with the tragically political, and an unsettlingly clear view of a translucent megalomaniac, like Brando in Apocalyse Now, or those guys who played The Kray Brothers in The Krays.

Imagery in Paradise Now

Okay, quickly here, some thoughts on the imagery from Paradise Now. The first scene that really struck me takes place when Suha (Lubna Azabal) and Khaled (Ali Suliman) are driving around in search of Said (Kais Nashef). The two of them have a debate regarding their alternate approaches to solving the Palestinian/Israeli conflict, Khaled seeing definite acts of violence and their attendant effects as the best way of achieving peace, Suha recommending peaceful politico-intellectual methods, i.e., debates and passive protests, as a more effective means of achieving mutually satisfactory ends, or at least a framework within which the possibility for achieving mutually satisfactory ends can be created. In this instance, Khaled can be thought of as employing a line of argumentation that believes equality will never be provided to subjugated people because their rulers seek assimilation or elimination rather than a community where both cultures can exist peacefully side by side. Hence, because dreaming of a peaceful political solution is naive and 'unrealistic,' we should strap a bomb to our chest and blow up the enemy so that afterwards angels can bring us to Heaven, which isn't so irrational when you consider the pervasive influence of religious fanaticism within a culture that uses such guidelines in order to create their rational and logical political and cultural methodologies (in a similar fashion to the ways in which the community within Rob Hardy's The Wicker Man functions). Even though the posture is also representative of lunacy.

Alternatively, you can form peaceful think-tanks that protest injustice effectively through hunger strikes, appeals to international tribunals, agreements to work with rather than for the oppressor in order to form a peaceful solution; a method that requires an extremely high degree of patience. Complex issues to be sure. It can be difficult for men to adopt the feminine point of view, especially within a culture firmly rooted in patriarchal rhetoric, for they are supposed to enter the 'world' and make a living in order to support their family. Their needs are immediate, tangible, and frightening, especially in a situation where a huge amount of impoverished aggression is attempting to compete with itself in order to forge a successful and long-lasting place within its culture (which is all the more staggering after you have found such a place and then have it destroyed by the Israeli army in retaliation for a suicide bombing from one of your counterparts, who wasn't as fortunate as you, ran out of patience, and sacrificed himself for his culture. Simultaneously, women can easily adopt the patient route if they are members of a society which does not provide their gender with any means through which they can form a substantial and influential political voice. Hence, they must remain patient, actually creating the resolve that traditionally minded men claim to have naturally, insofar as the strength and courage such women require in order to remain resolute in a situation where many of them are viewed as idiotic baby machines is of a much higher quality than that which simply engages in acts of violence (what is harder, to perennially fight with a boorish husband in order to have your peaceful, intelligent feminine point of view recognized and institutionalized so that its insurmountable strength can have the same kind of sophisticated cultural evaluation that surrounds its masculine counterpart, thereby forcing said masculine counterpart to recognize that what it claims to be its natural monopoly on wisdom is the product of an unjust patriarchal system that brutally castigates feminine methods of expression, or to blow yourself up in the name of God? What requires a more substantial variety of courage?). Even as Said and Suha race down the road searching for Khaled Said informs Suha that if she wasn't the daughter of a prominent Palestinian icon, he would likely be providing her with quite the beating, precisely because her points logically and rationally contradict his own (the point which contradicts the stereotype must be struck down by those who gain strength through its continuing affluence; by striking it down, the aggressor hopes that the physical examples that intelligently demonstrate its fallacious qualities will learn to remain silent: the basic and ugly formula for institutional bigotry). As Said and Suha travel down the road, an oncoming truck nearly strikes them as they accidentally swerve into the opposite lane. By including this scene, I think Abu-Assan is pointing out the fact that the debate held between these opposing ideologies is extremely complex, with no simple solutions. If, while having a debate, you crack the lens through which you usually view the world and from which you find guidance in order to live your life, it is possible for the terrifying force of the Real to manifest itself and quickly run you off the road. So pay attention to your principles while engaging in intellectual debates. The image of the oncoming truck contains more metaphorical weight as well, insofar as it also physically represents the force that Suha's reason has upon Said’s established identity, due to the fact that her wisdom breaks down part of his imperial conditioning, and opens up his mind to an alternate philosophy regarding existence.

Khaled experiences quite the shock, and near the film’s ending we see him in tears after he decides to no longer be a suicide bomber, while Said continues to refuse to listen. In the end, we see Said seated on a bus surrounded by Israeli soldiers. Earlier on in the film, Said was unable to enter and destroy a bus due to the fact that he sees an Israeli boy playing upon it. Because Said is surrounded by soldiers, we are lead to believe that he now has a legitimate target to attack. But we never see Said detonate the bomb, instead the screen turns white, representing either the consequences of an explosion, or the enlightenment gained by realizing that alternative methods of political expression exist. The light quickly fades to darkness, highlighting the fact that "this world is dark and this floating world is a dream" (Kurasawa's Hidden Fortress). No matter what decision is made or what ideology you accept, the outcome is in need of tenacious support, and whether that tenacity is manifested peacefully or aggressively is up to you, as is the decision you make regarding Said's final (in?)/action. I believe in Ghandi, and Suha, and that Said returned home to live with his family and perhaps raise one of his own, members of which helped disarm Palestine and Israel in order to create an egalitarian society, where aggressive tendencies are saved for paintball, and the world works together for the mutual benefit of all.

Note the subtle ways in which Abu-Assan highlights the beauty within Palestine throughout, whether it’s a romantic encounter between Said and Suha in the middle of the night, or the bounty of the tree growing within Said's house, supplying his family with fruit.

One more thing: Said's personality is dealing with the historical fact that his father was a collaborator and therefore insulted his families honour. Hence, he fights daily with his father's memory, trying to understand why he worked with the Israelis, wondering about things like honour and militant acts of justice.