Reviews

I'll never forget the moment in Jim Thompson's film adaptation of "The Grifters" (1990) when Lilly Dillion (played by Angelica Huston) gets her hand stamped from her boss's giant cigar. "No, no, no!" Screamed Lilly. "The Grifters" is one of the best films to emerge from the nineties, and one of the best films about the gritty world of con artists and hustlers, next to David Mamet's "House of Games" (1987). Anyways, that particular scene is replicated in Jim Thompson's recent film adaptation of "The Killer Inside Me." The star of the film, Casey Affleck, took his big cigar and burned the hand of a drunken beggar passing by him. However, the similar action doesn't singe the same way as it did in "The Grifters."

Casey Affleck's understated and deceptive portrayal of the killer, Sheriff Lou, doesn't quite resonate. Nobody in the quiet town of Central, Texas would guess that their chief protector is the cause of all this corruption and mayhem. As the audience slowly uncovers Lou's troubled childhood and psychological scarring, we finally get a glimpse behind Lou's duality and inner rage. Hence, lies the problem with the film. I thought the story's focus should've shifted to Sheriff Lou's sketchy background and childhood traumas, which would've made the character a little more plausible than what was conceived on screen.

Now, I'm not degrading Casey Affleck's interesting performance. I think he's a wonderful and skilled actor, and can portray a variety of characters. Ever since Casey Affleck's introduction to the silver screen in "To Die For" (1995), I was hooked on his shy mannerisms, boyish good-looks, trembling voice, and implosive portrayals. He scored gold performances in "Gone Baby Gone" (2007) and "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" (2007) , and continues to pick edgy characters, yet his new film left an all around icky taste in my mouth.

The killer portrayed in this gritty film didn't have me convinced. Another problem with this film was the lack of a proper musical score. Don't get me wrong, I think it's a true wonder how a filmmaker can carry an entire film with a selection of songs, but it's important to bring out the tone of every story. This film lacks a stable tone. It braises shock, horror, and then irony, but nothing ever flows continuously. Furthermore, the constant use of 50s pop music doesn't underscore the irony of the so-called "Happy Day" era. Instead, the music distracts from the dark tone of the atmosphere.

If you want to observe the disturbed and tainted mind of a realistic serial killer, then check out "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer" (1986). Now, Michael Rooker's debut performance as Henry, truly brought out the killer inside me.

"The Kids Are All Right" is a charming adult comedy about a modern American family rediscovering their anonymous sperm donor, and the dynamic relationship between the lesbian couple, the biological father, and the two teenage children. I mean, who can resist two of America's finest actresses (Julianne Moore and Annette Bening) playing a lesbian couple!

The point of the story, I believe, is that even though the matriarchs don't represent the traditional American family, they still have problems and dysfunctions like anyone else. The two kids were conceived by an anonymous donor, and the youngest son decides, like any curious child, to contact his biological father, played by Mark Ruffalo. "The Kids Are All Right" doesn't attempt to break any new grounds in character development or filmmaking for that matter, but instead, simply paints a lovely portrait of a non-traditional family on the brink of collapsing.

I felt as though some of the sex scenes were a bit off-putting and unnecessary. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of "Last Tango in Paris" (1972) and the butter-for-lubrication scene, but Bernardo Bertolucci was breaking new grounds in the erotic drama genre. The pain and misery of Bertolucci's main characters were felt during those steamy sex scenes. I also love the sex scene in "Boogie Nights" (1997) between Mark Wahlberg and Julianne Moore, because it was really about the mechanisms of filmmaking. I admire the sexual nature and the intention to depict sex as what it is; raw and messy. "Movie sex" can be so overdone with all the back-lighting, shadows, and unthinkable cutaways. But, when sex is over-the-top for the sake of being over-the-top, it doesn't ring true to me.

The best part of the film is the energy and charisma all three of the leads bring to the table. I can't say The Kids are All Right is a great film, nor did it rub me the wrong way, but it certainly is a well done comedy. The performances are bright, the dialogue is sharp, and the situations had me laugh out loud.

I'm very glad to see that this film opened up in more theaters. In the first two weeks of the film's release, it was only showing in two theaters, and you better believe, if you weren't there at least 20 minutes early, it was sold out. Distributors need to give films like this a bigger chance and not underestimate their audience. When I checked the local paper for what's playing at the large multiplex theaters I noticed that Salt was playing on five screens, "Dinner with Schmucks" on three screens, "Despicable Me" on three screens, and "Inception" on three screens. Believe me, there's always room for a charming adult comedy with an offbeat premise.

I walked into the theater with high expectations. I wanted to love it! I wanted to cherish it! I wanted my dreams to emulate everything Inception was discovering in high-tech cinema. However, sometimes when you go into a theater with the highest expectations, you might just be, a little let down.

Christopher Nolan's 100 million dollar art film is an extravagant, mind-bending thriller, which creates an original universe of cinema. Sure, the logic and landscapes of dreams have been painted by such gifted filmmakers as David Lynch, Wes Craven, Roman Polanski, and Brain De Palma, but Christopher Nolan is striving to break new grounds. "Inception" is one of those films that sinks into your mind twenty minutes after leaving the theater. While I was experiencing the two-and-half-hour dream-scape opus, I was squirming in my seat. Maybe I was so captured by the visual elements, I couldn't keep up with the meandering plot.

Despite the wonderful performances by Joseph Gordon Levitt, Michael Caine, Cilian Murphy, and Ellen Page, I found the supporting characters to be very lackluster. In addition, I thought the story could have unfolded in a much quicker pace. I loved the concept of stealing someone else's dreams, planting ideas into their heads, and creating a subconscious world like an architect constructing a building.

The visual imagery of "Inception" include trains shooting through the middle of a street, skylines folding over, and separate dimensions seeping into one another. However, with a plot so loopy as "Inception," I didn't quite feel like I was in the best of hands. Inception reminded me of David Lynch's "Mulholland Drive" (2001), which purposely didn't make any sense, but fulfilled the mythical and erotically-charged world of what a dream feels like. "Mulholland Drive" strives where I believe "Inception" fails; emotional investment in the characters. I believe the dramatic arch has to be the filmmaker's number one priority.

As much as I admired the visual attention, Christopher Nolan's acute direction, and Leonardo DiCaprio's complex character, "Inception" had me a little exhausted by the end credits. I still recommend seeing this wonder of a film and perhaps, it's worth a second viewing on my behalf. But I must argue; Christopher Nolan's "The Dark Knight" (2008) and "Memento" (2000) are more of a masterpiece than the ambitious, yet tedious, "Inception."

I was in awe of the visual overtones in this gorgeously made film. Deep, subtle, beautiful and cryptic--"Never Let Me Go" is sure to instigate profound conversations after the screening. Like "Dead Man Walking" (1995) and "Million Dollar Baby" (2004) there's a social morale buried under this sumptuous love story.

The film follows the friendship of three children growing up in a tightly-secured boarding school in Britain, beginning in 1978. They are cutoff from the outside world; a life without a choice, but a life with a designated focus. The story spans almost three decades, following them from childhood to adulthood. The surroundings are ever constant, even though the film follows them for three decades.

I would love to reveal what these special individuals are modeled and raised for, but giving away that revelation wouldn't be fair to the viewers. I must say, it's a very unique premise; one that gives the audience a very improbable connection between images and content. "Never Let Me Go" struck a nerve. I felt for these characters, very deeply. I wanted them to realize what these young and loving individuals could've achieved in the world they grew up in. They were brainwashed into thinking they were isolated from everyone else, but in reality, there were no boundaries. They could've escaped from the life they were brought-up in and should've rebelled from the establishment. Angry, sad, sweet, longing, optimistic—I love it when a film channels these ambivalent emotions and allows me to ponder about an alternate direction for the characters to venture into. If a film does that, then it must work.

After viewing this movie, I'm very curious about picking up the novel to see how the filmmakers translated the descriptions into these picturesque images. My guess is that the book is written on the same lines as "The Horse Whisperer"—with deft metaphors and rich characterizations.

As much as I wanted closure to the narrative, I think the film does a great justice by leaving the audience in the dark. It gives the viewer more room to think, and it stimulates an array of intelligent inquiries. "Never Let Me Go" dares the viewer to look beyond the beautiful imagery and delicate character interrelationships, and discover a multitude of hidden meanings and themes. Above all, this is an exquisitely crafted tale about love, loss, individuality, and the boundaries of life.

"The Social Network" is a fascinating look at the creation and legal dilemmas surrounding the ever-present Facebook. The film moves at a lightning-fast pace, covering a multitude of relationships, legal issues, messages, and themes. The filmmakers took a true story and used it as a backdrop to reflect on our current social hierarchies. When I first heard about this film I didn't really see a compelling story. It felt more like a 60 Minutes interview than anything else, but leave it up to a great script and strong director to visualize this computer-orientated material.

Typically, director David Fincher won't tackle a project unless it has a buzz on it, so hot—it drops on the lap of every major agent in Hollywood. I wasn't sure how the filmmakers were going to setup the dramatic arch of such a computer-bound narrative, and then it hits you twenty minutes into the film; reveal the story slightly out of chronological order, based on the specific legal elements. I'm not saying it wouldn't be fascinating to watch the eventful rise and fall of a young adult's hubris in the order it actually happened, but sometimes, a narrative works a little better if the structure is tweaked—crafted in a way that better serves the character dynamics.

I'm not going to lie, a second viewing won't hurt. The combination of intelligent, argumentative dialogue and thematic understandings of success is so layered, I'm sure I missed out on a few important messages. Sometimes, when you tend to focus on how well a film is shot and crafted, it's hard to concentrate on the details of the story, along with the rapid-fire dialogue.

"The Social Network" follows the cynical, somewhat misanthropic, computer rebel, Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), who created one of the largest computer websites in the world. His best friend and Harvard roommate, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), is his so-called partner in funding and establishing his new website. Along the way to success, Zuckerberg befriends a Californian connection, Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), who invented the widely used Napster music program. According to the film, Zuckerberg stole the Facebook idea from two, buffed-out, Harvard elite twins and cheated them on their original idea. This and many other legal infringements lead to a multimillion dollar lawsuit. This goes to show you, when the economy is down and a lot of money is involved, friendships will be betrayed, egos will be conflicted, and entitlement will be the name of the game.

Jesse Eisenberg, a strong Jewish-looking actor pinpoints this character as much as he nails the timing of the razor-sharp dialogue. He understands this young, ambitious individual. Zuckerberg really isn't a bad guy or as rebellious as he comes off. He's a man of strong principles, even when those principles betray the ones around him. He believes that the one who created is the one who is credited. Well, in this fiercely competitive American society, where lawyers, agents, and government officials run the game, Zuckerberg is really just a pawn. Even when his points come across as valid, there are certain principles in society, which undermine his own, and the only way to save his reputation is to play the game his own lawyers conduct. When all is said and done, Zuckerberg is still just a young man who wants to be accepted. He comes off as a rebel, but in a key scene where his new, party-animal friend, Sean Parker, gets arrested at a frat party, his image is suddenly tarnished. We finally see that his reputation means a lot more than his credit. This is a prime example as to why this character works—it's three dimensional, and by the end, Zuckerberg's personality backfires on the audience's expectations.

I think one of the film's strongest themes is social elitism. The film questions the importance of elitism in a university, which is bound to its social upbringing, more so than a student's GPA, at least I speculate. In the scene where the Harvard twins are in a rowboat competition at a prestigious English school, director Fincher blurs out the edges of the frame in certain close-up shots. The rowboat scene is understated by Trent Reznor's (lead singer for Nine Inch Nails) tantalizing and operatic score, which goes to show you that music can reveal a whole new level to a scene. The overall understanding I received from that masterly shot-and-edited scene is that Fincher is both revealing and mocking the students' focal point and sheer determination to be accepted in Harvard's elite social circle.

This is as far as I'm going to delve into the narrative. As you can see, it covers a lot of ground and David Fincher's craft is in top form. Checkout The Social Network and I guarantee you'll have your own thematic understanding of this entertaining true story.

"Piranha" certainly has a sharp sense of humor, but the exploitation elements are blatantly overwhelming and preposterous at times. Sure, the film knows what it is and doesn't try to be more than the fun, B-like horror film it wants to be, but it has a difficult time mixing the comedic and horror elements. Overall, Piranha spends more time exploiting the stars, exploiting big-breasted women, exploiting the college-party lifestyle, exploiting the over-the-top gore, exploiting CGI (Computer Graphics), and don't forget, cashing-in on the ridiculous 3-D gimmick. Instead of inverting these concepts into a clever good time, the content remains utterly EXPLOITIVE, no more and no less, rather than standing as a cool homage to the original, and B-horror cinema in general. The fact that this film doesn't use stop-motion or complex make-up effect takes the charm away from the B-horror effect. Roger Corman produced the first "Piranha" (1978) to cash-in on the whole Jaws-rave of the mid-to-late seventies. In addition, the original "Piranha" had a witty script written by the independent maverick, John Sayles, and at times, was truly frightening. This new "Piranha" is all-around silly. Some of my favorite B-horror films were made by writer-director Frank Henenlotter, a genius at combining horror with comedy, along with some very inventive stop-motion effects. He wrote and directed such cult, B-horror classics as "Basket Case" (1982), "Brain Damage" (1987), and "Frankenhooker" (1990). These films came out before the CGI craze, and are a good reminder as to why CGI ruins the charm of stop-motion or make-up effects. When the audience sees that a certain effect is created by a computer, it's really hard to ponder the gory creation, or how inventive the director had to be in order to create an in-camera effect. I think there are some instances where CGI is absolutely necessary, but today, I think special effects artist depend too much on it. Sometimes, CGI can really take me out of the realm of the cinematic experience, and the illusion is completely ruined. Most importantly, "Piranha" is not an original creation; it's your run-of-the-mill remake. Question: How many remakes do the studios manufacture every year? Answer: So many, I just stopped counting.

"Eat Pray Love" is about a depressed woman, whose romantic pratfalls lead her to venture off across the Atlantic, hoping to rediscover herself. She leaves her life in New York, and of course, discovers new relationships in Italy, India, and Bali. As the story progresses, the central character, Liz, played by Julia Roberts, finds balance in her life. However, there's one big problem; there's no balance in the film, especially the narrative.

Once she leaves her past relationships, she should leave it for good! However, the writers are aware that this is a studio film, and like many studio films, images of her past have to find their way into the last quarter of the film. Why is it that writers feel the need to tie everything together into a nice little bow, even when the protagonist's journey doesn't call for it? Answer: A Hollywood studio romance, that's why.

"Eat Pray Love" is an expensive travelogue with a glossy Hollywood makeover. Star-power cannot rise above this thinly-layered material. There were many problems with this film. First off, the opening and closing narrative voice-over is the only link to tying the cliché messages the film has to offer. Like many studio romances, it underestimates its audience. The images and character actions should speak for themselves. Show us, don't tell us.

During the course of Liz's existential journey, I wanted to enjoy the culture of each and every location and backdrop. However, the filmmakers wish to rush the atmosphere and focus on the star-power. Supporting characters come and go into Liz's life, and by the very end, everything sloppily ties together, or so the writers think it does. Audiences must love Julia Roberts. I mean, how can you not? Her uniquely structured face, long, slender body, deep-rooted eyes, and that movie star smile radiate the big screen. I think it's safe to say that the camera is in love with Julia Roberts, but on that same token, the camera forgets to fall in love with the atmosphere. In the scene where she's eating her exquisite cuisine in an Italian café it looks as though she's acting for a commercial on spaghetti. The food, luscious surroundings, and ancient ruins need to be just as critical of a character as Liz.

Another problem I had with the film was the superfluous camera-work. In the scene where Liz munches on her Italian delicacy the camera cuts to a high overhead shot. Why exactly does a camera have to be 10ft up in the air to see Julia Roberts dive into her spaghetti? There are other moments where the director insists on using a crane shot when the action doesn't call for it. Perhaps most audiences will not observe these tiny details, but for a film critic who's just as passionate about the technical aspects of filmmaking as the basic narrative, I found these details incredibly obtrusive and detrimental to the entirety of the film.

The performances, mostly by Academy Award winning or nominated actors, are first rate. However, this is a prime example as to how great performances can only work unless they are matched by a great script. "Eat Pray Love" is what I call a package film; you've got the stars, the bestselling book, a few weeping moments, and the two lovers riding off into the sunset. If you're look for a thoughtful, romantic film, I'd skip it, but if the package is good enough, then be my guest.

"Get Low" is a quiet and tender tale, which tries to be very moving, but it never reaches an adequate emotional level. The film is about a senile old man, marvelously portrayed by Robert Duvall, who wishes to arrange a party for his funeral while he's still alive. The only funeral parlor in this backwoods town during the depression era is owned by a business-hungry entrepreneur played by Bill Murray. Duvall and Murray try to set up a plan to get the entire town to celebrate this bizarre man's death.

What is it about Bill Murray and his ability to take a subtle, dramatic performance and still make it very humorous? He's the master at combining seriousness with deadpan humor, creating an altogether, original spin on every performance he's confronted with.

"Get Low" is very bittersweet, but at the same time, too restrained. Despite Duvall's bravo performance, I felt there wasn't enough room for the central character to grow. We are presented with this great, cynical character, who eventually finds redemption from his past sins, but I still didn't see why the entire town should care. Sure, I cared about the character, and so did the supporting players, but why invite an entire town to a funeral party if they seem not to really bother? Why confess to an array of acquaintances if they had little to do with his past sins?

While I was watching the film I couldn't help but notice how restrained the direction was. Every conversation was pieced together with a simple shot-reverse-shot, and the overall rhythm is dully consistent. I think once Duvall's character steps out of his shell a bit and we discover more about his back story, the film, in itself, needs to make a subtle shift in tone and rhythm. The cinematography is absolutely gorgeous, and the filmmakers do a great job recreating the depression era, but I felt I needed something more to perceive in accordance to the film's visual grammar. Please, change up the camera setup, or hold onto the master shot, or get rid of any "safety" cutaways. I understand that the minimal approach to filmmaking keeps the focus on the performances, but personally, I think it should enhance the performances, which it didn't.

"Get Low" has moments of heart, humor, and sadness, but it never dares to be anything original, despite the original premise. As a result, I can't say I cared too much about the protagonist nor wish to ever feel the need to be a part of his death. If you want to enjoy the all-encompassing performances, it's worth checking out. However, I usually look for more than a dynamite cast.

Basquiat's artwork transcended the culture of the streets, circa 1980. He started out as a graffiti artist and rapidly become one of the world's coolest underground painters. The interview footage, if you've never seen clips of Jean-Michel Basquiat, puts the viewer into the perspective of his artwork, and conveys how his ideas were partly influenced from past artists, partly his immediate emotions, and wholly groundbreaking. He became known for crossing out words on the canvas, which indirectly strengthened the meaning of his avant-guard, street poetry. Basquiat was an innovative painter who was ahead of his time. His drive was about being totally original; that is, the very best, when it came to originality. As far as a documentary, "Jean-Michel Basquiat: the Radiant Child," works well. As soon as the director presents the eventful rise and fame of the subject, the film takes a righteous step back to discuss Basquiat's background and influences. In addition, documentaries about a single subject should never depict a person's life in chronological order; it becomes more like a Barbara Walter's special, and we don't want that. I think the audiences's predilection for this film will depend on their fascination for the subject at hand; the chaotic life of an artist, the rise and fall of a famed celebrity. I absolutely adore these stories. They usually start and finish the same, but sometimes, events take the turn for the worse, and the icon dies at a very young age. Jean-Michel Basquiat was only 27 when he died of a hot-heroin overdose. Fame, fortune, and loneliness drove his drug addiction to an unbearable end. When you hear these stories, sometimes these celebrities make it, and sometimes, they never get to live long enough to tell it themselves. Always pray for their recovery. Basquiat's work might have become more famous as a result of his death, but there's never a price too high for a persons life; not fame, fortune, or history in the making. I think the strength of documentary filmmaking deals primarily with the subject. If the viewer is drawn to the central figure, then it's really hard to objectively critique the way a documentary is filmed. Personally, I don't think "The Radiant Child" provides strong enough direction, but more importantly, a strong passion for the subject, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and it certainly shows. "The Radiant Child" lacks the spontaneity and hipness of "Exit through the Gift Shop" (2010), but any art lover, interested in the short, yet successful life of Basquiat, will certainly enjoy this documentary. Basquiat was so daring and conceptual with his work, that when he wanted to explore a traumatic event from his childhood, he would literally paint in the manner of a five year-old child . A child; he was far from it. Radiant; he was above and beyond.

Horror fans mark this one on your calendar. Both elegant and chock-full of gore, "Let Me In" is a remake done right. Well, I can't really hold to comparison because I've only watched the first twenty minutes of the Swedish hit, "Let the Right One In" (2008). Unfortunately, it was dubbed in English, (a nightmare in itself) so I turned it off. Anyways, back to the American adaptation, "Let Me In," filmmaker Matt Reeves, fresh off the gimmicky "Cloverfield" (2008), shows a little mastery in direction. Honestly, I didn't really care for the apocalyptic, monster invasion, "Cloverfield." Perhaps if it came out before the whole found-video-shaky-footage rave, it would've caught my attention, but at the time, the concept seemed tiring. "Let Me In" is a unique vampire film about the unlikely friendship between a bullied, 12 year-old boy, Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee) whose parents are in the middle of a divorce, and a mysterious girl, Abby (Chloe Moretz) that also happens to be a vampire. They meet outside in the snow-covered apartment complex, and the curious boy, always peeping out his bedroom window, is wrapped up in the mystery of his new friend and her older caretaker (Richard Jenkins). The director keeps the perspective towards the boy's point-of-view. When he sits down for dinner with his mother, the camera never cuts to her face. In fact, she's mostly seen out-of-focus in the frame or seen in a distance, which cleverly expresses her absentee presence as a parent. This notion sets-up the framework for the boy's new-found relationship, considering he learns a little life skills from a girl vampire. "Let Me In" holds onto the same mythology of old vampire movies (burning sunlight, thirst for blood, sleeping in coffins), but never goes overboard with the genre conventions. Reeves tries to take this story as seriously as possible. It doesn't poke fun at the genre or execute messy set-pieces of vampire violence. No, I'm afraid, non-stop violence fans, that the gruesomeness isn't senseless; it serves the characters, the narrative, and the gorgeously lit atmosphere. Along with the fresh take on the vampire genre, "Let Me In" is expertly photographed. In the scene outside the apartment complex, where the two friends meet by the snow-covered jungle-gym, the surrounding lights give the images a hard-orange hue. There were also times when the cinematographer doesn't completely block the lighting, letting in an ominous ray of metallic blue across the frame, which serves as a recurrent visual motif. Furthermore, in another fantastically shot scene where the unidentified guardian of the vampire attempts to dispose of a body in a half-frozen creek, the contrast between the snow and the dark night is so heavy that it almost looks as though it was shot in black-and-white. Shooting in snow-covered surroundings adds a crisp aesthetic, which is unlike filming in any other type of weather condition. Now, for the best part of the cinematography—the gruesomeness and blood-dripping gore is ironically a beauty to behold. There is no shock value here; it's just shocking how much blood there is when you suddenly forget you're watching a vampire movie, along with an absorbing tale about childhood friendships, hardships, bullying, and curiosity. Kodi Smit-McPhee is a child actor I'm going to enjoy watching grow up. He portrays a shy, pasty-looking dork, but at the same time, still remains utterly cool. One of my favorite scenes is where he puts on a record for Abby and slyly grooves to the 70s tune, trying to impress her. Come on, who hasn't tried to impress a person they've had a crush on with their favorite brand of music? Well, I have, and so naturally that little humanistic scene stuck with me long after the screening.

Child performances in films of such darkness can be difficult to swallow. However, McPhee gives a remarkable performance of such subtlety and aloofness, I could easily identify with him. Let Me In builds to a conclusion I sensed was coming. It didn't matter though. How the scene was visualized by Matt Reeves was still a shock to me; my heart was literally racing with adrenaline. All I can say is this—sometimes it's what you don't see that brings out the most suspense.

I know I can be a snob and completely disapprove of horror remakes (because American audiences can't read), but I think it's hard to deny that this is still a great horror film with a unique, improbable relationship. "Let Me In" doesn't spell out every detail to the audience. The director provides many nuances, which hints about the mysterious relationship between Abby and her older companion. Is he Abby's father, brother, a childhood friend, or a sadistic individual obsessed with vampires? Who knows exactly? Sometimes, it's the mystery that makes it all the more interesting. Overall, I enjoyed this moody little creeper of a keeper. "Let Me In" anytime, well, probably not during the day.

Sometimes, when I have difficulty falling asleep, I'll think of Bernard Hermann's jazzy score, and the soothing sound of the saxophone will lay my mind to rest. The surreal images of Travis Bickle's dark perspective of the gritty streets of New York remain a visual wonder. The opening scene in "Taxi Driver" (1976) is an extreme close-up of Travis Bickle's paranoid eyes, eerily glancing back and forth, which inter-cuts to his vibrant, yet hellish perspective. The image of the taxi cab represents a vessel into Bickle's disturbed mind; he glides through the steam rising out of the sewers and through the colorful reflections of the streets. The opening images establish the bold color palette of a master painter; shades of red, blue, green, and yellow softly meld into a visual orgy.

Visually and aurally, Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver remains the most daring piece of artistry ever conceived on 35mm film. Every camera movement, edit, sound design, and slow-motion shot is felt, not just seen, through every frame of cinematic brilliance. You can sense the master at his fingertips. Why is Taxi Driver the greatest film ever made? I can watch it over and over again, and I'll channel on different aspects of the film.

When Scorsese was shooting the film the crew members were baffled as to why he would pan the camera the opposite way of the moving subject. In the scene where De Niro's character parks his cab and walks out of the garage, the camera does a 180 degree pan the opposite way, and then stops back at the actor as he takes another look at the garage. There's a specific reason to this simple, yet daring camera movement. Visually, the director is saying, that even though the camera doesn't follow him within the moving frame, everything is seen through the character's perspective, going to, and coming away from him. In fact, majority of the film is seen through Travis Bickle's eyes.

In another scene, Travis is talking on a pay phone to Cybill Shepard's character, Betsy, the camera tracks across to the empty, adjacent hallway, which is a clever metaphor of expressing Travis's ultimate loneliness. Lastly, another memorable camera feature is when the director places the actor on a moving dolly as he glides toward the bouncer, inside the bordello. The image gives the viewer an urgent feeling, rushing to the bouncer, which foreshadows their bloody encounter at the same location. "Taxi Driver" is filled with audacious camera movements, which have influenced an entire generation of maverick directors, including Spike Lee, Paul Thomas Anderson, and Quentin Tarantino.

In the beginning of the film, Scorsese uses a variety of overhead shots, which include the concession items at the porn theater, paperwork cluttered on the desk at the taxicab office, and paperwork scattered on Betsy's desk at the campaign headquarters. As the film progresses and Travis's insanity gradually becomes apparent, the director cuts to a series of overhead shots of Travis's newly acquired guns. The items viewed become more deadly, but ironically, the arrangements are more structured. At the same time, Travis's body gets in better shape, and his bizarre routines provides him with the structure he thinks he needs. At this point, his delusions become a violent reality.

Robert De Niro's implosive portrayal as Travis Bickle represents a man's total alienation from society. We're never clear as to what he endured in Vietnam, but the audience certainly senses his traumas, by his sketchy behaviors. He can't sleep nights, obsessed with weapons, and isn't too keen on acting normal in a society, which, he thinks, is based on clicks, populism, music, movies, and politics. Why isn't his voice heard? Why is Senator Palentine heard and Travis kept in the dark? Why aren't porn movies the norm for a date night if they're present all over the city? How are the police doing their job if pimps, drug pushers, and prostitutes still roaming the streets of New York? These inquiries are never heard in De Niro's sincere voice-over, but are certainly worked in the subtext of his performance. Many films have tried to emulate this one-of-a-kind character, such as Edward Norton in "Down in the Valley" (2005), and Sean Penn in "The Assassination of Richard Nixon (2004), but none of them are able to provide strong enough direction"n to make this sordid kind of character believable. You can sense the mental anguish and emotional turmoil Paul Schrader went through when he wrote this personal screenplay. The combustible relationship of script and screen makes "Taxi Driver" a powerful journey into the heart of a madman.

"Animal Kingdom," the award-winning Sundance favorite, is about a young teenager's survival in a family of dysfunctional sociopaths, headed by the diabolic, ringleader mother. The film opens with the main character, "J" (Josh), calling an ambulance for his biological mother who overdosed on heroin. He passively observes the paramedics checking his mother for vital signs, while glancing back and forth at the television program. Initially, the audience senses that the youngster is desensitized to a corrupt lifestyle. He calls his grandmother, Janine, played by Jacki Weaver, and is deceptively welcomed with open-arms to live with her and his four uncles, all of whom are born and bred criminals.

"Animal Kingdom" has been labeled as a crime movie, but it's much more than that. Sure, it touches on classic criminal celluloid, such as cops, robbers, drug dealers, corruption, but mostly it's about a bizarre family of criminals and the lost child trying to survive his teenage years as normally as possible. His only living proof of a normal existence is his teenage girlfriend, Nicky, whom he attach's himself to. After an act of violence occurs between the cops and one of his uncles, he spends more time at Nicky's parents' house, hoping to become accepted into their family. Substitute parenting is an important theme in the film. When two cops windup dead, J becomes the prime target of an investigation, headed by the incredible, Guy Pearce. At this point, the teenager becomes a threat to his own family and a victim of terrible circumstances.

The film is crafted in a subtle manner, but the threat of danger is ever present. The writer and director, David Michod, has a keen sense for building tension; the film works by the absence of pretentious camera movements and an overwhelming score. The filmmaker brings as much realism to the scenarios as possible, saying, that these vicious crimes are committed by ordinary people, some of whom are posing as law-abiding officials.

This is a modestly-budgeted film, meaning that most of the camera-work is hand-held. Now, even though I am a big fan of stylish films with kinetic camera-work, it doesn't mean it always works for the story. The writer/director of "Animal Kingdom" is very aware of what kind of style is best suited for this juicy story. I was reminded of other recent Sundance hits, such as "Winter's Bone" (2010), "Sin Nombre" (Without a Name-2009), and "Frozen River" (2008), where the conflict of the central character was organically thrilling to the narrative, and the film as a whole. Gritty realism can easily out-win pretentious style, especially when the filmmakers know they have a compelling story to tell.

The primary reason I loved "Animal Kingdom" was because there was so much psychological and sociological depth to the family portrayal. Pay careful attention, and you'll notice how the profound elements are nicely interwoven in the subtext of the performances and direction. The film lured me into the young teenager's dilemma. I sympathized with his emotional pain and empathized with his own violent tendencies, which ironically mimic the criminal lifestyle he was trying to escape.

Jacki Weaver gives a riveting and layered performance as the conniving, mama-knows-best ringleader. Her devilish, on-screen presence is reminiscent of Bette Davis in "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane" (1962) or Ruth Gordon in "Rosemary's Baby" (1968). She is absolutely sizzling! "Animal Kingdom" builds to a jaw-dropping conclusion, an unexpected sucker-punch to the face, and it's a knockout! This is one of the best films of the year and not to be missed.

Have you ever watched "Rosemary's Baby" and merely observed the use of rectangular frames in Rosemary's apartment? The doorways, wallpaper, sofa cushions, and the mystery behind the closet are all designed to correlate with one another.

In addition, Roman Polanski shot a lot of the film in the apartment so the viewer is constantly looking through frames within frames. Are these details accidental? I think not.

If you're a sincere film buff, a fan of Polanski's work, and have an acute eye for photography, then you'll easily notice the director's fondness in portraying the details of an apartment ("Rosemary's Baby," "The Tenant," "Repulsion"), a cabin ("Death and the Maiden"), a hotel room ("Frantic"), and of course, the modern house in "The Ghost Writer." Furthermore, Roman Polanski's films contain similar visual motifs, including encrypted codes that the protagonist must solve, water over corruption, reflections, isolated characters, knives, and secret rooms. All of these elements, and much more, create the master of suspense, next to Alfred Hitchcock.

"The Ghost Writer" is Polanski's latest film, and at 76, he still knows how to direct. Despite his checkered past, A-list actors are always jumping at the opportunity to work with him. It's about the work, not the man's flaws.

"The Ghost Writer" is about a man (Ewan McGregor) who's hired to write the memoirs of the former British Prime Minister (Pierce Brosnan). The corruption involved between the United States government and the UK government is reminiscent of the city corruption Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson) was involved in Chinatown. The central characters from both "The Ghost Writer" and "Chinatown" are in way over their head. Another element I loved about this film was the gloomy cinematography. The sun is rarely seen, the clouds are always present, and the photography has an overall grayish-pastel hue. I recall reading an interview with Woody Allen and he said that he always preferred to shoot in New York when it was gray and cloudy, because it was easier to control the lighting and bring out the background in the shot. Perhaps this wasn't Roman Polanski's intention, but I must say, the visual overtones in The Ghost Writer were consistent throughout.

It's refreshing to see an intelligent political thriller, which doesn't depend on extreme violence, loud noises, and senseless montages to grab its viewers. The film opens up with an abandoned car on a ferry and a man washed up on the sea shore, which goes back to the recurrent Polanski theme of water over corruption. No shot is unnecessary and every shot correlates with the film as a whole.

Majority of the action is based on the dialog and the subtle character interrelationships. Pay careful attention to the details and all will be revealed at a moderate pace. Do you remember the anagram Mia Farrow solved with the scrabble cubes in "Rosemary's Baby?" Do you remember how suspenseful that moment was? Well, there's a similar scene in "The Ghost Writer," and believe me, the revelation is just as suspenseful. Political cover-ups are one of my favorite kinds of mysteries, and what better guide to have than Roman Polanski, the master of suspense.