Reviews

I really enjoyed Boogie Nights, as it seems most people have, and I totally hated Magnolia. I feel asleep twice trying to watch Punch Drink Love and have since given up. So the other night I thought it was finally time to watch Hard Eight and see what all the fuss was about.

Throughout the entire film I was left waiting for some real character development, or maybe some characters with an IQ greater than 35. Yes, Sydney seems cool and really deep, but in fact we never get to know anything more about him, what makes him tick, or how he actually makes his money. Who is this guy? Who are any of these people? Why do I care? Characters don't have to be super smart or crafty or ultra deep to be likable or interesting, but when all they add up to at the end of the day are a bunch of sketches about as thin as playing cards, it really makes you realize you're watching a very amateur or at least poorly written film. Such great acting talent is wasted here on performances that look and feel right out of a theatrical stage play or a student film trying to play on the level of Pulp Fiction, but with massively undeveloped characters, motivations, and plot turns that are totally arbitrary or just downright illogical. We never get any real back-story about anyone until almost the end of the film and many of the most interesting questions about what motivates these people are never answered. Instead we are left with what amounts to a collection of scenes that fail to tell a compelling or evolved story with only one major twist that comes out way too late.

Hard Eight is essentially a great short film or one act play with enough character development appropriate for those formats, but as a feature it simply lacks enough subject matter and overall development to be anything more than a sketch of a film with a threadbare storyline and one-sided, unidentifiable characters who end up reacting more like animals than humans.

Philip Seymour Hoffman despite having only one scene still manages to steal the show.

Inland Empire is the Man with a Movie Camera of the 21st Century. It is the most experimental, surreal, and technically brilliant film I may have ever seen. Lynch proves that all he needs is a simple DV camera to show the world the entire range of human emotions and the human experience from the happiest to the darkest moments we must go through to achieve salvation and cleansing of the soul. This film is not so much about a particular story or narrative as it is about analyzing, exploring, and creating a visual palette for ideas about traveling to and from the past, present, and future as it relates to our constant journey back and forth into our own psyches and our collective unconscious. Each of Lynch's films explores the mind in terms of Jungian philosophy, focusing particularly on The Shadow; however, Inland Empire goes further in this direction than any film previous to it. If Mulholland Drive was 25% a dark and surreal suspense thriller ghost story and journey into the nether regions of the mind and 75% classical, yet not necessarily structural or connected narrative, Inland Empire is 10% straight narrative and 90% raw psychological horror ghost story.

The journey is long and hard but at the end you will be rewarded with the kind of peace and serenity that can only come from a meditation this long, deep, and powerful. I was filled with only inner bliss as I left the theatre and slept like a baby, completely at peace. This is David Lynch's most powerful film and speaks volumes on the many unexplored topics of how this medium can communicate, terrify, and heal in ways we have not yet even begun to understand.

I haven't been inspired to write comments about a film in a long time, but Shortbus had me literally reeling in my seat from the first ten minutes.

We are so screwed up today as a society of people and we don't know why we cannot connect with each other and form meaningful relationships both sexually and emotionally or find that special partner who we're supposed to love that's supposed to make us complete. In that sense, Shortbus deals with many of the same issues as Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but in a new and equally groundbreaking way. Yes, there is hardcore sex, and honestly, there should have been even more, it is used as another layer of paint on one of the most poignant canvases I have seen in years. This film is part of a new breed of cinema that dares to force actors to cross over the line from acting in a film and portraying a fictional character to actually being a subject in a documentary: the once strict line that distinguishes where a character begins and an actor ends has become totally blurred and is no longer recognizable for the actors or rather beautiful and real human beings who appear on screen in this film.

As much as this film is about its characters and their lives, it is about the state of underground or lack of underground art and culture in New York City, particularly the lower east side art scene – a nostalgic yearning for a time and an age of culture and community that is sadly gone in present day Manhattan. Theoretically, Shortbus forces us to question the nature of the spectator in a movie theater, watching a TV screen or computer monitor, or looking through the viewfinder of a camera. It is rare for any film these days to ask and provoke the kind of emotional responses and questions about the nature of spectatorship, voyeurism, censorship, viewership, and pornography while at the same time pushing the boundaries of cinema, redefining cinematic, and fusing multiple aesthetic systems that Shortbus does in under two hours.

An immediate addition to the canon of great films on multiple levels, Shortbus should be seen by every film student and anyone else regardless of sexual orientation that is questioning who they are, how they fit in, what they are feeling, and their viability in this society and in their own community or search for one as an artist. Reminiscent and evoking many of the same issues and themes as Lost in Translation, this film reminds those of us who are still lost and in the closet about it that there are more of us silently searching for each another than we can ever imagine.

A note about the ending without ruining anything: many people that will balk at it for not being realistic or digging deep enough or as deep as the rest of the film may be missing part of the point. The whimsical CGI animation used throughout the film should immediately tip you off to the fact that there is a magical fantasy element present in the storyline that is represented by Shortbus itself. This when combined with the nostalgic seedy underground art scene depicted in the film causes one to realize that the ending and resolution of each character's issues is in fact a just a continuation of that nostalgic fantasy for the bygone lower Manhattan cabaret scene, and thus adds another bitter sweet layer to the film. We can already guess the brutal reality of what will happen to each set of characters and their relationships in the film, but that doesn't mean it is what has to happen on screen. What happens inside Shortbus is a hopeful and optimistic fantasy set in a burlesque and erotic theatre of the absurd, what happens outside is our hardboiled reality.

If you cannot find yourself somewhere in this film, somewhere in the mythical Shortbus, you might not actually exist.

I think this is possibly Miyazaki's most intriguing movie. All of his other films are very linear and even though their highly varied worlds may be visually stunning and highly creative, I feel the dreamy world of Howls Moving Castle is by far the most captivating, bizarre, and imaginative of all the worlds Miyazaki has ever envisioned.

What I love about this movie is that it's highly emotional without a great deal of logic or plot or story to get in the way. In this way the film is simple, pure, and extremely beautiful. It is as if the characters go from one emotion to the next, in a world that is as random as one's own dreams. Some people have complained about the lack of plot or story or serious character development, but even though the characters are fairly static, their emotions and the physical changes they undergo as they go through these emotions brings out a higher truth that is seldom given such artistic and natural freedom.

I think this is a very smart movie in many subtle ways and it's one that I look forward to watching again on the big screen and then on DVD. Although it flirts from theme to theme to theme with a kind of animated attention deficit disorder, the landscapes and utter unabated surrealism left me stunned and never bored.

Also, from a quizzical character design perspective, Howl is certainly one of if not the most beautiful characters that Miyazaki has ever created. Howl is an interesting departure from Miyazaki's more classical wabi-sabi anime style that most of his heroes and heroines are drawn in as Howl is definitely a very contemporary bishonen.

If you're looking for quaint settings, dynamic characters and a very involving character or plot driven story, you're not going to necessarily find them here, but you will find an equally stunning and pleasing movie if you let yourself go and enjoy this passionate, heartfelt and surreal Miyazaki dream.

I was reading on the message board about people's reactions to Roger Ebert's review of this film, (found here: http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20041014/REVIEWS/40921007) and it prompted me to write a piece about TA: WP as it relates to a slew of films just like it released in recent years, along with Trey Parker and Matt Stone's other work.

Ebert didn't actually say much about the film in his whole review, which wasn't one of his best – he basically glossed over parts of the plot and story with a few highlights yet didn't really explicate on his rating, whereas sometimes he doesn't even go into a film's plot at all, he just writes an opinion about the film or how he reacted to it, and sometimes why.

I think what he's reacting to most strongly but doesn't want to write a thesis on is the new kind of nihilistic "without a point"

humor (dubbed by some as existential comedy) that has crept up and exploded big time in Western society in the last ten years thanks to early films like "Delicatessen," "Spanking the Monkey," "Bottle Rocket," and writer / directors like Wes Anderson, David O. Russell, Jean-Pierre Jeunet and of course our small-town American heroes Trey Parker and Matt Stone. Other such films would be "Zoolander," "Rushmore," "City of Lost Children," "The Royal Tanenbaums," "Amelie," "South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut," "I Heart Huckabees," and the upcoming "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou."

While I think the majority of these films are in fact quite funny, they always leave a strange and unfamiliar taste in my mouth which is surprisingly becoming more familiar. One could argue this dates back even further to "Dr. Strangelove," but I think that film falls into black comedy in a more traditional definition than today's much more nihilistic existential variety, mostly because of the world being destroyed at the end of the film and the inherent message contained therein. I think TA:WP does have a point and the point is essentially the same as what some read out of South Parkian humor in general: F&%K America, F%&K politicians and both sides, F*$K celebrities, hell, F#%K everyone and most of all, F*$K you too and let's laugh about how absurd the world is.

Parker and Stone make the excuses that people should be educated on the issues or else they shouldn't vote (or be allowed to) or that they themselves believe both sides have inherent flaws, but then the only position left is in fact to be apolitical, nihilistic, or just an anarchist or perhaps an existential Libertarian. This is all fine and well, but when millions of people with inherent positions are exposed to this message weekly on Comedy Central or monthly on the big screen, it really starts to erode a lot of our internal social framework that has been carefully constructed by Western media over the last 70 or so years and I would argue is psychologically destructive or rather just schizophrenic or just psychotic in the end. I'm not at all saying these kinds of films should have a point or give us something back, but I am commenting on the dichotomy of what we're doing here:

An example might be that in TA: WP they're satirizing the whole genre of shitty action movies with cookie-cutter characters that follow a stupid character transformation and heterosexual romance formula again and again and again. However, much like "Adaptation" which satirizes the similar problem of formulaic genre message pictures and story lines, as well as the popular contemporary musical "Urinetown" which again satirizes the constructions of modern musicals and the stupidity of their subject matter, all of these pieces ultimately conform to and embrace the extract problem they satirize, making an intelligent audience go "Hunh? What are they actually saying here? Are they trying to deconstruct and critique this or are they in fact preaching and reinforcing it at the end? What's the position, where's the message, is the message that there is no message or that there shouldn't BE a message?" This is the kind of stuff that makes Ebert's head explode and what funds media reception and cultural studies programs in liberal arts colleges all over the world.

A lot of us go to see a movie that's going to give us something psychologically or intellectually or information wise to take home and chew on, be that eye candy, ear candy, mind candy, or just a really zany off-beat comedy, but instead these films leave sarcasm and cynicism far behind by embracing outright existential nihilism, so we leave the theatre with LESS than we came in with, aside from the occasion laugh out loud moment.

And in a period where a vast audience is dying for something more out of film, ("Lost in Translation" comes to mind), what is this saying about the people and industry creating these films? To me it feels like in order to keep us needing more we're purposely fed these nihilistic comedies that drain us even further. And I think that's one of the reasons "Translation" was so widely embraced by so many people: it really made us aware of our inherent loss by putting that loss on display – inside of what started out as an existential / nihilistic comedy. To me this was brilliant, but I'm getting away from the topic, although TA: WP made me think about "Translation" again which is why I mention it here.

So, back to Ebert, I do think be believes the film to be funny and have its moments, but I also think he was as drained by it as I was, and damn it, I'm tired of these films and their creators and producers taking both my money and my energy and eroding my value system, ego, and perception of reality.

Everyone should see this movie, but not for the reasons you might think. The first half of the movie is basically hilarious, almost to the point that one might suggest Michael Moore should be making pure comedies using archival footage and setting it to music as he does brilliantly many times in this film. Then the humor starts to fade away and the propagandizing starts as well as the exploitation, sensationalism, and way over the top sentimentality. This is where I felt the wheels sort of came off and the film started to loose some of its established credibility.

One of the best things about documentary is its ability to uncover history unknown to most people and even at times unknown to everyone. There is some of this in this film, but Moore frequently doesn't dig deep enough or probe or postulate far enough about some of the things he uncovers. For instance, he discusses the Afgan pipeline and some of its history, but he doesn't go back 30 years to explore the real story of American involvement in the pipeline pre-Soviet Afghanistan.

Also, he makes it seem like Bush didn't react to the bombings because he was either being just plain stupid or just didn't know what to do. He fails to uncover material pertaining to the PNC (Plan for the New American Century) initially created by Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz years ago during the Clinton years which in its final form calls for things like multiple wars on multiple fronts (Iraq, Afghanistan?) catalyzed by a "new Pearl Harbor" (9/11?) which if dissected to the degree Moore uses for other subjects here, would have been a much more powerful, and conspiratorial movie implying more than just Bush's family connection to the Saudis and his own incompetence. Instead, he just defames Bush by pointing out how corrupt his family ties are to the Saudis and making him look like he's just some kind of idiot punk cowboy out for war of any kind.

The overall problem of the film is that the only people that are going to see it are the choir which he is basically preaching to. Real conservatives have already been told what it's about and they've heard the story before, so in the end all it is ultimately going to do is strengthen both camps and further separate the national political bases.

My comments shall be brief, for few comments are necessary to describe this tremendously beautiful film. If you have not seen it and are at all interested in filmmaking, by all means, watch this wonderful gem.

Aside from the practically perfect script, filled with gags and jokes that have stood the test of time, the flawless performances, and the fantastic sets, what strikes me as most memorable and moving about this film is the incredible nostalgia it filled me with. I am not a person who was even alive in the 70s, let alone the 40s, but as a person involved in the film industry I could not believe how emotionally overcome I was when I finished the film. It is such a strong and passionate call to action for anyone who wants to tell a story, and a captivating look into why audiences go to see films and how best to truly move people. Moreover, the film shows us a brief glimpse into the studio system in its glory days, when working on a picture really was like going to work with your extended family, people that cared about your well-being, looked out for you, and made sure you were going to be okay. Some remnants of this still exist today, but not to the extent they flourished during the Golden Age, when if you were part of the town, the town made sure you were safe and secure, whether that meant a cop escorting you home when you had a little too much to drink, to protecting your image and reputation, regardless of the type of people you choose to have sex with. Neither of these things are at all a part of "Sullivan's Travels," but the feeling of the comradely and familial nature of the studio by looking out for its many artistic children is definitely an important part of the story.

One can see clearly after viewing the film why this period in cinema worked so well and so was so unanimously successful everywhere in the world. Human stories are universal, as is the language of comedy, and the language of cinema. If you really want to be moved by a great period piece, don't rent a movie about the Golden Age, rent one made during it.

Sorry Martin, this wannabe "Titanic" didn't do a thing for me...

I don't want to say this is simply a film for the masses about the masses but that's the way it turned out: a big fat mass of masses for masses.

That said, without spending too much time, I belive the film fails honestly because Scorcese is attached to it.

If this was a film made by any unknown director or some greenhorn, I would have no choice but to applaud the effort as the EFFORT is tremendous. But, when you look at the body of work and more importantly the intelligence and multi-level approach of Scorcese's other films, this film completely fails in comparison.

Somewhere along the way this film was butchered, (pun intended) whether it was by the studio, by Scorcese, or by the batch of writers who's conflicting visions and machismo keep bobbing up and down throughout the story. I believe Scorcese (or the studio) tried too hard to make a film for "today's (young) audience" instead of just making (or letting Scorcese make) a Scorcese film. Sure, perhaps many of today's brainwashed and dumbed down proles might not get it, but the film would have entertained the large following this director has cultivated over his many years behind the camera. If the only story he wanted to tell was a nobody wins revenge tale without redemption, flanked by an extremely shallow and cookie-cutter romance, then why waste all the time and money with 1860's New York? Whether or not Martin is actually washed up or still possesses his own magical abilities with a camera I cannot say, but it seems that whatever his original vision was, someone went through it (violently) with a cleaver.

It's interesting though, as a comparison, the actual base human story of "Titanic" has the same cookie-cutter romance elements as "Gangs" yet it is crystal clear that the FOCUS of "Titanic" is on an IMMACULATE portrayal of both the ship itself, the passengers, and the events that took place -- an accurate portrayal of history is the most important factor. "Gangs" does not present that same sharp and exacting historical focus to any degree, instead bits of chopped up pseudo history and gruesome violence are thrown around for a bit color in an otherwise monochromatic, by the books, and boring love story.

Bottom line: I can hear this bomb falling right now... Half my theatre left after the 2 hour mark, some before, and that was on opening night.

Watching anything by Todd Solondz is going to make you awfully depressed. Not because his films are bad, but because they are so good, and there is hardly anything like them out there today. Watching Storytelling in the theater was a blessing, but afterwards, my friends and I could only feel completely depressed! If you've never experienced Solondz's magic, this film can leave you a bit more uplifted, as you have Welcome to the Dollhouse and Happiness still left to explore. But if you've already seen these films, watching Storytelling can only make you feel bad, like a quickie, it's so good then when it's over, poof, you're bored and you want something else just like it, but different. I wish Todd Solondz made more films, but sadly after you watch those three, you're done, and it's back to putting up with dumpsters of celluloid garbage for the next year or two until his next film. I mean let's face it; where else are you going to find a great performance from John freakin' Goodman!

Sadly though, I find it hard to convince certain TYPES of people as to why Solondz's work is so good. I try to tell them the writing is award-winning and beyond most failed attempts at culture critique. I try and tell them how good the performances are. I even try and point out some fantastic themes out of the multitude available in his work. But these certain types, they just can't seem to get it.

But on the bright side, the one thing that does give me a boast about Storytelling is Conan O'Brien. Now, it's not the fact that he's here, but how he fits in, it's like there are people out there that do NOT understand Conan or his humor at all, they just don't get HIM altogether. Then there are those, such as myself, that completely understand Conan and all his self-deprecation. How can you not love a character like Scooby that wants to be Conan's sidekick??? Is this NOT the dream of every self-deprecating teenager and college student?!? Being able to simple make that point in a film, as Solondz does so perfectly during that scene with Scooby and Conan, right after the proverbial gay pseudo blow-job, is something most auteur's can't ever GET AT. This is why it's depressing watching the film, you see how brilliant this man is and how clearly he can speak his mind and say to you: "I hear YOU, I feel this way, and I know you do too, and this is here for US to enjoy, not just something for everyone." Some people say Art is something everyone can universally appreciate. Others say it is completely subjective. I think it can in fact be both ways. You can look at Storytelling or actually Happiness is better for this as formulaic, or formal art, the technical way the film is put together is brilliant, that's its universal art. The thematics, the way the auteur says what's directly on his mind in a way that a certain kind of person is immediately able to grasp a hold of firmly, that's the other kind, the subjective kind. This man understands communication, let alone life, like very very VERY few writers and directors ever have and ever will.

The best part about films like No Such Thing is what they can teach American film students, or really any film student about ideas of storytelling, narrative construction, thematic expression, and just basic writing. It would be nice to say this is just a B film, or a failed attempt at a serious philosophical work, but in fact the film takes itself quite seriously and expects us to as well. This is not the case.

When I watched this film I thought of Wim Wenders "Until The End of Time" and Jan Svankmajer's "Little Otik". It's great to watch these films to see just how different a perspective their directors have on how to tell a basic story on the screen. In my opinion it's the completely wrong perspective, but I would say that is because I'm a very American film student. No Such Thing is a terrific example of everything not to do when trying to make a serious philosophical film. The film is riddled with such horrific banalities, euro trash acting, and is so trite and cliché at points that I had to stop watching it for 3-5 minute interludes to keep from screaming. The weird part is that some people really think this is what a good film is, that his is HOW TO do it, how to write, how to tell that great story, how to direct actors. In the same night I watched this film I also watched, for the second time, Todd Solondz's masterpiece, and yes it is a masterpiece, "Storytelling". One need only watch these films back to back to understand the difference between brilliant, tight, succinct writing and poignant, dead-on acting as is portrayed and executed in Storytelling, and basically stupid, contrived, and otherwise abysmal writing and acting as exemplified by No Such Thing.

Personally though, it's also interesting for me at least to see how films like No Such Thing get made, are distributed, are consumed, and how some people even enjoy them and believe them to be great when in fact they are basically beneath even utter trash, as good trash like anything Gregg Araki, is at least identifiable as trash from the start and is fully aware of its trashiness from the start, it is the intention of the director. But for films such as this that do take themselves quite seriously, we can only stare into the screen and wonder how far down people have sunk that green lighted them, and how further down they are pulling and tainting a blind audience. If there's nothing else on, people will watch anything.

I decided to watch a few "Indy" flicks on DTV the other day, "My New Best Friend" ended up being one of them. Needless to say, I didn't watch this movie for any chicks or dudes or Taye Diggs. First off, this movie is something cinema majors, film students, culture critics, and porn directors and producers should watch, everyone else should pretty much avoid it unless you're a high school student about to go away to some small college in some small town in near an ocean. Basically, the film intrigued me to the point of being dumb-founded enough to watch it all the way through. I was glad I did, because in the end the film at least makes linear sense and the story achieves some kind of closure and logic.

What I think is most peculiar is the fact that everyone is noticeably too old to be playing college kids. All the lead characters and most of the supports are basically actors in their early 30's trying to play 18 and 19 year olds. This is funny because reading IMDB profiles you'd think these people were actually 20 and 21 but in L.A. we all know better. This is a great example of bad casting, simply because there are 30 year olds that can play 18, and there are 26 year olds who can't, this film employs the later as opposed to the former.

The other interesting thing is the strange homoerotic almost misogynistic attitude the director takes with the sex scenes and relationships. When I saw the film I imagined some big burly very masculine male porn director type doing the directing, but instead it was very strange to find out the director was a woman. It's also interesting to note that although the film tries to market itself to a college, high school demographic based purely on female sex appeal, it fails as well because of its general B nature, lack of even soft-core sex, and unrecognized names.

So I thought, how could this movie have been improved? Then it dawned on me why it was so perfect! It wasn't really a drama or a failed unintentional comedy, it is a very A type porn! Someone simply forgot to tell everyone the sex scenes were supposed to be real and hardcore, and the movie was supposed to be distributed by Vivid or Wicked Pictures and play on the 590's (for those that don't know, those are the porn channels on DTV). Anyway, I think it's good to study this film as a model for the future of A list porn, a story with a solid beginning and end that makes good sense and rewards you slightly at the end, but has no real substance at all or meaning, yet instead, contains just the right amount of sex, if it was hardcore in the first place, this film would be making millions, at Adult Bookstores that is.

"Spriggan" is a fairly decent piece of anime showcasing some of the best high action / movement animation I've ever seen; technically it is quite a well-developed film with many intricate cuts and superb editing. For anyone interested in a decent action / sci-fi thriller, I recommend this movie without prejudice.

Thematically, I don't think it is as deep or metaphysically intriguing as films like "Akira" or "Ghost in the Shell" nor do I think it raises enough questions and insights about its subject matter as say "Neon Genesis Evangelion," particularly in how it deals with its own use of religious iconography and mythology; they are more of a "technology" than anything else, however, the film is still enjoyable.

And of course there's the completely benign homo-social relationship between Yu and Jean to add to the fun.