The Mist (2007), or Wild Abandon

Frank Darabont has the hots for Stephen King. He is a consummate Stephen King director. He’s done the most by far when it comes to adaptations, and he seems to not only understand, but actively love the material he’s using. Today’s film, The Mist, is his third King film he’s adapted, and I think he’s starting to get better with it each time he does it. As the world knows, I wasn’t a huge fan of The Shawshank Redemption (GASP!) and The Green Mile was a little sappy for my tastes. So this time, apparently, Darabont got my memo and stopped making the easy King movies. The Mist is a difficult undertaking, and it’s primarily because the limits are only the imagination of the director. Fortunately for us, Darabont has a reasonably good head on his shoulders, because The Mist is both imaginative and provocative, with enough of that King allure and deep mystery to keep you guessing and afraid until the very end.

It all happens in Maine (Again; GASP!). A father named David Drayton and his son have to go to the local grocery store to pick up some things after a big storm. It’s a bit dangerous because of a thick fog moving in, but they make it there just fine. In the grocery store there are a few of the local residents, as well as a few soldiers. David doesn’t think anything of it really, and continues on with his day, until some police show up outside in the thick fog. There is an obvious violent confrontation between them and something they cannot see, and as quickly as it begins, the scuffle ends eerily and silently. Everyone in the store is confused momentarily, until a frightened townsperson comes barreling through the parking lot begging to be let in. They lock the door behind him, and he tells them that something’s out there, and it tried to attack him. People begin to form their own opinions about what happened, and as the mist rolls closer and harder onto the store, they begin to wonder  just what is happening, if anyone is going to help them, or if there is even anyone alive to help them. Paranoia grip the denizens of Podunk, Maine, and heads clash on how they will best survive the crisis, and it seems for a while that the greatest danger David and his son might face will be from those around them. But a terrifying mission to switch on the generator will reveal an awful truth; that there is something IN the mist, something not of this earth…

What an amazing atmosphere… The Mist has that timeless element that all horror classics have right from the get-go. Unlike most horror films, though, it keeps its cerebral grip on you throughout most of the film due to the varying nature of the threat. We don’t know all that lies in the mist; there are oddities that defy all logic there, and we’re never sure to what degree these creatures can even threaten the people inside. There are unexplained massive tentacles, larger-than-life insects, and other unspeakable things that lie within, but at first it seems like they might not venture too close to the window-panes that make up the front of the store. But the nature of the mist is elusive, and perhaps there is something larger and more sinister waiting to pounce on them in their huddled vulnerability.

And not everyone is living peacefully in the store, either. Frank Darabont really capitalized on the awesome dynamic within the store that King envisioned. There are your average folks, like our hero David Drayton, but there are also backwoods yokels, naysaying skeptics, hotheaded bullies, and a particularly dangerous religious fanatic that divides the townsfolk with her use of Old Testament fear-mongering and firebranding that is scary on a number of levels. You start to see lines being drawn between people when they should be thinking about the outside threat, and that is another layer of tension that is wonderfully effective in this instance.

A stellar cast inhabits this tiny little Maine shopping center. Thomas Jane should be credited as the necessary good in a sea of mistrust and mayhem, David Drayton. He is such a strong lead that it makes me instantly forget his yucky turn in The Punisher. I liken him to the Jane Fonda character in 12 Angry Men; he’s strong, he’s courageous, and he rocks some washboard abs. Good job, Jane, especially in the finale. Laurie Holden is Amanda, the sweet and caring girl who would be Jane’s love interest (only Drayton is A MARRIED MAN!). She’s okay, but they really don’t ask her to do much. She’s not that big of a deal as far as presence goes, but I wouldn’t say she was awful. The real star here is Marcia Gay Harden, who plays religious fanatic Ms. Carmody. She is such an evil and self-righteous chick that I wanted to punch her through the screen. Not only is religious sanctimony my NUMBER ONE pet peeve (more like my personal nightmare), but I also hate this character’s insistent rudeness. This woman is a downright monster, and I thought her to be just a tiny bit worse than some of the monsters in the mist. harden does an excellent job in a definite performance to watch. The fervor in her eyes is as good as real, and you get the sense that it even gets to her as an actor at some points.

It’s not perfect; there are quite a few “how is everybody doing?” scenes where we have to do a lot of banal check-ins with everyone’s current condition and their unique pasts. Which would be fine, if this wasn’t set in Maine, where interesting stuff is hard to come by without a mysterious mist rolling in. And some of the characters, like Drayton’s generic kid, were a little half-baked and boring. But I liked The Mist a lot. It’s been done before, but never with so much imagination behind it. Many scenes feel electric with a frenetic energy that is synonymous with the new, with the unexplored, with the unknown. And there is a lot we don’t know about The Mist. If you like movies that are willing to challenge you, or movies that aren’t afraid to hit home with you, this will be one for you. But if not, I wouldn’t recommend it; at least, for your sake, turn it off 15 minutes before the end, because the last scene is one that you won’t ever forget. I give The Mist 8 1/2 Mainian (?) grocery stores out of 10!

Tomorrow I’ll check in with Hellraiser! Until then!

Mirrormask (2005), or The Division Of The Day And The Night

As far as special effects go, you have to do something pretty spectacular to make me forget about the story. There has to be something truly magical in the air for me to forgo the usual logical dissection of the plot. That’s where I am with today’s amazing film from the mind of Sandman creators Dave McKean and Neil Gaiman. Mirrormask is a beautiful and achingly mystical story about the trials of youth and maturation set in a fantastic innerscape of the heart, mind and soul. It’s not often a feast for the eyes is so tantalizingly positioned for me, and it makes me both love it all the more for its achievements while hating it for its lackluster script.

We follow young heroine Helena, an emotional, creative young woman whose parents own circus. Not Barnum & Bailey; think more like a more artistic European circus with outlandish clowns and crazy foreboding color schemes. She and her mother and father perform incredible acts of daring-do, and every night they have a fun time with the other performers, who are like their extended family. But Helena is hormonal; she’s becoming a woman, and it’s not easy for her to deal. She spends most of her time daydreaming and losing herself in a world of her own fancy. It shows her amazing creativity, but she begins to prefer her own world over the real world, and it starts to erode her relationship with her parents. One night, after a performance, she petulantly lashes out at them, running away to her trailer to be alone. This stress causes her mother to collapse, sending her to a hospital where Helena is told she will require a delicate operation. Helena goes and sleeps in her room that night seriously distraught, but when she wakes, she’s not exactly in the circus anymore. She’s in a strange land, a dream-like plane where nothing is as it seems. And it seems in this world, she has found herself in the City of Light. It’s oddly beautiful, but it’s being eaten alive by shadows, who seek to devour everything in sight. And, worse yet, it seems the shadows want her specifically, because she is an exact look-alike of the Princess of Shadows. Aided only by a strange coward named Valentine, can Helena piece together the twisted story of this world and uncover her purpose in it? Or will the shadows destroy the City of Light and its plucky, eclectic denizens?

It all sounds a little generic and cheesy on paper, and it is, but it’s all about the delivery here. This is one of the most eloquent pieces of special effects artistry I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s an amazing blend of CG, animatronics, puppetry, and camera trickery that together marks a major milestone in movie history. Created by Jim Henson Productions, the studio that brought us The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, this is again its own contained, beautiful world that feels totally alive. There are conjoined giants twisting around, floating in the sky above while shadow demons scuttle across the ground like nightmarish beasts and in the middle is a young, confused girl with a universe of bizarre imaginings between her and her home. Wonderful imagery at work here.

But, again, the story is rather weak. The whole light vs. dark thing isn’t exactly fresh, but I can deal with that.  Even though it’s similar to the story of The Dark Crystal in terms of content, I find myself wanting more distance from this character of Helena. I don’t mind a flawed character, but this chick is whiny and rather annoying. I’m reminded of the main character of Labyrinth, now that I think about it. Jennifer Connelly’s character was such a brat that I couldn’t reconcile her turn compared to her earlier, baby-hating ways. The same thing applies here; she’s not a bad person, and she’s not evil, she’s just annoying. And her sidekick, the mask-wearing Valentine, is equally annoying. What a chicken-shit yellow cur! The second he gets a chance to run in the face of danger, he pulls a Falstaffian turn and bolts! What a limp penis this guy is! Weak characters aside, the script by Neil Gaiman is good, but it doesn’t have the majesty and character of most of his works.

The actors are pretty damn good though. Stephanie Leonidas plays Helena, the wacky teen who is lost in the City of Light. She has a lot of potential as an actress, which you can see here. She has a lot of layers to her, as does any real teenager at that age; she can be sweet, bitchy, compassionate, and downright selfish at the drop of a hat, and that’s pretty hard to translate on the screen. I enjoy her a lot, and I can safely say she was the best in the film. Jason Barry is her weenie sidekick Valentine, and he also impressed. He has a lot of flair in his style that speaks to the fantastical material. He’s whimsical and charming, and that’s just what this character needed.

And let’s not forget the amazing crew. Dave McKean created the extraordinary vision encapsulated in Mirrormask, and it’s something that only he could’ve done. He alone has that beautifully twisted aesthetic, that tint over the eyes that allows for such wondrous artistic ability. As a director, he envelops the film, and while the Jim Henson presence can certainly be felt, nobody can deny that this is HIS movie. And also complimenting the cast is composer Iain Bellamy. His ethereal music, mixed with an acid jazz sensibility, really sets a mood for this dreamscape, and peppers my mind with a lot of wonderful ideas. It’s perfect for this kind of movie, and even his keen selections, such as an off-kilter remake of The Carpenters “Close to You” makes for some unforgettable scenes.

So get this movie. Forgive it’s lack of a clear or enjoyable script, or ignore it entirely. This is one of those rare occasions where it might be better to ignore it than to dwell on it too long. I admit that while it’s not perfect, Mirrormask is as beautiful as the intense language of dreams, the beatific composition of the subconscious. You’ll find yourself engrossed by the background, even if you don’t give a damn about the people in the foreground. Check it out; I give Mirrormask 8 conjoined floating giants out of 10. Huzzah!

Tomorrow we delve into the magical world of Stephen King with The Mist! Until then!

Future War (1997), or Let’s Do The Time Warp!

Although it’s not anything official, it’s worked out that at least once a month I’ll see a really, truly repugnant movie. Something that will just make your skin crawl, paint peel, and infect livestock with its hideousness. Whenever it happens, I usually comment on how stupid the dialog is, how atrocious the acting is, or how the “direction” seems more like somebody tying a camera to a horse, spooking it, and yelling “Action!”. Today’s film has many of the problems that I would normally associate with all of these attributes, as well as an early onset of acute mental illness. But I just want to focus on a single thing here, if that’s all right with you. Because while this film features not only prostitutes-turned-nuns (!), runaway alien slaves proficient in kick-boxing (!!), cyborgs with mullets and mustaches (!!!), and dinosaurs taken from the past and used to hunt down human slaves (!!!!!), I don’t want to talk about that. That’s stuff you could go to Mystery Science Theater 3000 for (they have an episode featuring this movie, believe it or not!). You want some down and dirty analysis straight from my words to your brain. And I aim to give it to you. So here are a couple of things about Future War that I noticed that, while indicative of a pretty shitty movie, might make you come to the table with a different perspective on it than you would have had any other way.

Now, look at the date up top. What does 1997 bring to your mind when you picture that year? Are you thinking about late 80s video technology? Are you thinking about ripped jeans and flannel shirts? No? You’re thinking 1991? Oh, me too!!! This movie is a prime example of movie time travel. What I mean by that is whenever you are working with a limited budget, you can’t always use up to date for your shoot. Sometimes it’s the camera, other times it’s the recording equipment. It’s usually something that can date your materials, but it’s possible to create a time and a place outside of your budget usually.

Future War’s predicament, however, is unique in the sense that their budget must have been so low that EVERYTHING procured for the shoot was about 6 years old or more already by the time the movie came around to filming. And I’m not just talking basic stuff; I’m talking the types of special effects they could use, the video graphics, and the camera itself dates the film to around ‘89, maybe older. And yet we regress even more here; there are glaring fashion tells her that would let us know that people aren’t wearing the flannel shirts any more, as bell bottoms would let someone know that a movie was from ‘81, not ‘87. The fact that they hired European kick boxer and Jean Claude Van Damme look-alike Daniel Bernhardt to star in the film well after the Van Damme craze had died down in Hollywood. And, if you want to take a quasi-poetic look at it, the city of LA even looks and feels older than time itself would have us believe. It feels more like the time of the LA gang riots, which would explain the long, belabored gang asides we get near the end. This all culminates to create a look and feel that is quite dated and, perhaps, scientifically impossible…

And, if you end up watching this for some odd, odd reason (probably the same reason I did; to laugh heartily), you might notice that this movie is indelibly Christian. That’s right; a movie about cyborg slavers in the future using dinosaurs with exploding collars on to track runaways somehow brings Jesus “I Love You So I Refuse To Help You” Christ into the picture. We get former Miss Prostitute USA, Sister Ann, giving us the gritty lectures at first about how it’s not easy to love God, which I was excited about, at the time hoping her faith would dissolve in the face of reality and sanity. But instead we have the redeemer of faith, Daniel “I Lived A Life Of Pure Good And All I Got Were These Crappy Kickboxing Skills” Bernhardt as an angelic moron from space who knows Bible quotes and believes anything anybody tells him. So she fills him in on the Christian nonsense he only knew phonetically, and he fulfills her request from help from on high. It’s a great trade, everyone’s happy, and at the end (SPOILER ALERT!!!), Space Kick Boxer ends up working with runaway teens at a Christian Teen Call Center!!!!! What the fuck? Jesus did not do a damn thing, but he gets two renewed followers for it! You might as well thank Scruff McGruff for all the non-help he put forth while you’re at it! At least McGruff is helping to clean up the street from his headquarters at:

Scruff McGruff

Chicago, IL 60652

That’s right; I remember the address…

There are a lot of weird things about Future War that don’t make much sense. The reason for that is probably because director Anthony Doublin, here at his feature debut, was mostly using this tiny film as a large-scale makeup and special effects test for his day-job as a visual effects coordinator for low-budget flicks. But no matter what your excuse is for making a cheap flick like this, there’s just no easy way around some of the weirder elements involved. Too much time is spent on this waste of a script to completely disregard it as just some effects test. Doublin must have had some sort of attachment to this material, and it is a truly one-of-a-kind experience to watch this spectacular failure go down, that’s for sure. Either that, or the Catholic Church and lobbyists in the dinosaur and cyborg industries contributed heavily to the film’s funding. Whatever the reason is, I don’t think anyone could deny Future War the 1 1/2 Christian dinosaur trackers out of 10 it deserves. Watch it if you dare…

Tomorrow is another surprise movie! Let me know if you have any preferences!!!

PSA: Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade (1999), or The Beast Awakes Thirsty And Covered In Tattered Human Skin

After many years of watching anime, I can safely say that, for the most part, I do not like the genre in an episodic format. It’s not that I don’t like serialized stories; don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to the peculiar world of Japanese animation, I’m forced to often throw my hands in the air and walk away from most of their television shows. If it’s not embarrassingly saccharine and precious, it’s overly slick and boastful of its own J-coolness. Everything is hyperbole, and nothing is very intellectually engaging for an adult. But never fear! The Japanese, much like American artists, know that the real art is not found on television, but in the lyrics and the liberty of the motion picture. Some of the best anime can be found as films, some as engaging, if not more, as a regular movie but without the limitations of reality. One of my favorite films using Japanese animation is Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade, a film created by famed animator Mamoru Oshii and animation supervisor Hiroyuki Okiura. It is an achingly beautiful and eloquent story of longing, displacement, political dissent, and the loss of identity as one steers closer into the world of the animal and farther away from the brood of man.

Set in an alternate time-line after World War II in the 50s, we see that Japan’s people, ruling political party, and even their military are divided amidst the post-war depression and upheaval. In Tokyo, there are violent riots by the leftist population that are growing more radical and deadly by the day. The right-wing governing body has sent out specialized troops with large suits of armor called Panzer Cops from their Central Police Unit (a jurisdiction conflict with the opposing military police) to quell the riots. During one particular raid in the sewers beneath Tokyo, a supply train for the weapons used in the protests is busted, and the special troops are forced to pursue many of these culprits through the labyrinthine aqueducts. One soldier pursues and corners a “Red Riding Hood”, a female supply mule dressed in a red cloak carrying bombs and weapons. The soldier is about to shoot the girl, but when she turns around to look at him, he freezes. He can’t shoot her, and in the time it takes for him to freeze, she sets off a bomb and kills herself, damaging his powerful armor, and subsequently knocks out the power for a few blocks, allowing the leftist rioters to escape.

It becomes a fiasco for the government, who not only let the extremists slip from their grasp, but broke jurisdiction restraints and deployed the Panzers despite the tenuous truce the local and Capital police had maintained for quite some time. The soldier who caused all this is named Kazuki Fuse, a young, exceptionally gifted Lieutenant with a spotless record but a tendency towards being a loner outside of the base. He’s put through the Capital Police training again as punishment, but remains fairly unscathed despite the controversy. He doesn’t know why he didn’t shoot, and although the scene keeps replaying over in his head, he still can’t forget that girl’s face. There is something about her he can’t let go of. He even goes to the girl’s wake at the local funeral home. He is shocked to find a girl that looks exactly like her standing there praying for the “Red Riding Hood”; it is the girl’s sister, named Kei. The two develop an unlikely friendship, a relationship that draws out the inherent loneliness in both of them, as well as the desperation that exists in the heart of the city that lies as a shadow of its former glory. Can their love bloom in the face of war, violence, and death? Will Fuse’s own misgivings about his nature and his secrets prevent him from loving her? And is there more to Kei than we know, as well?

What an amazing film! I’ve never seen a film capture better the sadness inherent when I imagine post-war Japan. Even though it’s set in an alternate time-line with different names and places, the reality of this divide and the restlessness of the people is palpable, and Oshii understands this as part of the leftist revolts in the 70s. The sadness in the streets, the cold, unforgiving grip of poverty, and the willingness of those in power to sweep others under the carpet for gain are all very real aspects to this time, and all of these things are handled beautifully here.

Jin-Roh is also sort of a guessing game. All throughout the film, you’re told of this elite group of Panzers in the Capital Police called The Wolf Brigade, an elite Counter-Intelligence group that has infiltrated the highest echelons of the military industrial complex. You’re asked to contemplate on just who is involved in this group, what they want, and who their enemies are. In this political and espionage element of the film, we’re kept pretty much in the dark until the very end, but guessing is always the fun part, and it’s yet another amazing aspect to this wonderful film.

But let’s not forget about the animation itself! The drawings are lifelike and muted, true to the colors surrounding Japan in the 50s. Everything is either beige, a washed-out, formerly beautiful color, or white. The settings are painfully realistic, down to the tiny and sparse apartments, the sensible “modern” clothing, and the lonely dull buses driven all around town. Even the characters are faded, Fuse’s and Kei’s skin pale beneath the frightened Japanese sun. But these dispassionate scenes are interspersed with flashes of Fuse’s disturbing psyche. The memories of the Red Riding Hood, nightmares of wolves attacking and eating Kei, and other, more obscure ideas are shown in quick moments of Fuse’s silent contemplation.

The characters and their thoughtful, meaningful dialog are the real highlight of this Jin-Roh, though. I won’t reveal too much, because this is a movie that needs to unfold slowly and methodically, but it is simply amazing. It’s as eloquent as Truffaut or Godard, only about 40 years after the fact. There are scenes where Kei and Fuse read the original Gothic Little Red Riding Hood (pre-1870) to each other, and these slow, sweet moments are to be relished with the patience of a ballad being penned in front of your eyes. It’s simply stunning, and I’ve never seen anything like it in an animated film before.

In conclusion, please take the time to watch this film. Jin-Roh will not be for everyone; it’s meticulously paced, subdued and dispassionate like a French New Wave film. There aren’t a lot of action scenes, and while the animation is phenomenal, using the most advanced effects of the time to create a realistic alternate time-line, it’s not very eye-popping in the same sense that Transformers is, i.e. colorful and paced like a heart attack. But I can tell you with all sincerity that I have rarely seen an animated film with more power. There’s nothing like it in the history of cinema, and it will forever stand as a testament to the genius of Okiura and Oshii and their contributions to a medium that all too often relies on silly hair and Japanese pop music to sell their stories. Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade is timeless and exquisite, and I give it a fitting 10 animals with human faces out of 10! My highest recommendation!

All right! keep an eye out for a Night Out film for tomorrow! What I’ll watch I don’t know! Maybe you should REQUEST SOME MOVIES FOR ME!!!

Falling Down (1993), or Schumacher’s Silver Lining

While I don’t have the deepest respect for Joel Schumacher, the man who put Batman in a coma, everyone always reminds me of Falling Down, his one free pass movie, the movie that everyone loves him in, and the one movie where he didn’t seem to fuck it all up with his odd sensibilities. It’s a cult classic, a searing indictment of American values in the 90s, and I can’t think of anybody who hasn’t loved it to death after they saw it. So, after watching it again after quite a number of years (that’s the unofficial trend of the week, I see), I can say that I appreciate Falling Down, and I think it’s one of Schumacher’s best, but I don’t think it’s the best thing since sliced bread.

As with many stories of its ilk, Falling Down begins with a day that might not be as bad as any other day, but it sure feels like shit when you’re living it. A fellow named William Foster has had a really bad day. His ex-wife had a restraining order put on him, his job has let him go, it’s the hottest day in what seems like forever, and he just can’t take it anymore. He walks out of his car, leaving it behind, and makes a journey across LA to break the restraining order and attend his daughter’s birthday. Along the way, he will will violently break all the rules that his life has been held up by, and he will oppose with some heavy-duty firearms anyone who stands in the way of a hot LA day redeemed. Simultaneously, we find ourselves with only one real hero in the town, a barely standing old cop who is the only real thing willing to put an end to William’s pissed-off nerdy tirade. Will our police officer hero be able to stop him in time, or is William going to get what he wants? And is the police officer even our hero?

It is an emotionally complex film, more so than it perhaps even realizes. There’s something very melancholy about the pathetic Foster, from the moment he steps out of his car and you see him abandon the constraints of normal life. It’s a joyless spree of violence that offers not even the illusion of happiness or euphoria that proceeds any act of self-liberation. His acts are not acts of anger, these are acts of acute confusion and disbelief that life can steer so wrong. And his rival in this blind struggle is Prendergast, an officer belittled by the force, his superiors, and even his wife for his old age, his refusal to curse or lash out, and his tendency towards patience. He also has an emotional struggle throughout the film that is far from Danny Glover’s close-to-retirement Murtaugh in Lethal Weapon. This man is beat down, struggling to maintain a feeling of potency even as everyone around him mocks his zealotry towards this mysterious crime-wave. There’s more to this than meets the eye, and if anyone is willing to look past the slightly-worn “fuck society” sentiment used here as some sort of knee-jerk reaction to 90s ennui, then you’ll find that these characters are, if anything,  fresh and lively.

And the acting is pretty good for a Schumacher film. Michael Douglas is a wonder as William Foster. His maniacal intent is cloaked behind a deep emotional connection to his daughter and a stinging regret of a failed marriage. Even during his violent assault weapon-fueled soliloquys, he is tinged with something that really approaches empathy with me. It is a tribute to Douglas’s ability that he can make a man like Foster not only likable but charismatic! We want him to succeed; almost. And Robet Duvall is amazing as everyone’s favorite put-upon officer, Prendergast. I remarked in my Colors review what a pro Duvall was, even with his patented Poker Face on. Here, he arguably does even better as Prendergast, a character with a little more depth. He’s truly one of the best, and this is another good performance from a man I’ve gained a lot of respect for this past year. Barbara Hershey is the weakest link of the three leads as Beth, Foster’s ex wife. She’s a bit too soft for what I think the character calls for. She needs more fire under her feet, a little temperature boost to make her really shine. Compared to Duvall and Douglas, Hershey doesn’t really carry all the weight she should, and she should be carrying quite a lot as the caretaker of Foster’s daughter, who is the linchpin to the whole thing.

There are some flaws. it’s not exactly consistent. The message has an opacity that is either all-encompassing or lazy, and I don’t think this is terribly intentional. Some of the settings are unnecessarily harsh towards Foster, especially the breakfast scene shown above (like a fast food restaurant manager wouldn’t let you tea-bag him for a positive review on your comment card!) and I often get the feeling that LA was a pathetic parody of itself rather than the semi-realistic mirror it should have been. But it’s still good. It’s an exceptional movie with some real power behind it. A lot has to be said for the lead actors, and even the near-graceful approach Schumacher uses for such a bold indictment of society. It’s got a lot going for it, and while I won’t go to sleep tonight with visions of Foster dancing in my head, I’m still surprised and found it to be a little better than I remember it. I give Falling Down 8 1/2 tea-bagged fast-food restaurant managers out of 10!

Stay up with me as I cram in a review for one of my favorite films of all time! Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade!

Sorry! Two Reviews Tomorrow!

Sorry folks! Technical difficulties! I’ll be back to working order tomorrow with two reviews; one for Falling Down, and the other for Jin Roh: The Wolf Brigade! You have my solemn oath to get this shit done ASAP tomorrow! Until then, mon amies!

Equilibrium (2002), or Fahrenheit 2002

Well, geez. I don’t really know what to say. I was all ready to give today’s feature another chance. I remember seeing Equilibrium back in ‘03 and thinking to myself, “Yuck! What a self-assured piece of pseudo-sci-fi! Never again!” But back then, I was also a dumb, clunky high-schooler who thought that the most intellectual modern author was Kurt Vonnegut and the best look for myself was slicked-back long hair, Hawaiian shirts, and military boots, so I thought maybe I’d look past my former confused persona and discover for myself just what makes this little-seen Matrix clone tick. Unfortunately, it seemed that I was more astute in my youth that I had previously anticipated, and the movie left me with a bad taste in my mouth yet again. This time, however, I can more eloquently express why. Let me set the stage for you.

It’s THE FUTURE!!! In a futuristic city-state named Libria, society has banned the citizens’ paltry, idiotic use of emotions. By prescribing all citizens with an emotion-damping drug, banning all emotionally-stimulating media and art, and intimidating rebellion with a small cadre of Clerics, fiercely devoted soldiers trained to snuff out emotion and serve the government, the ruthless patriarch of Libria, known as Father, has complete control over the fate of his subjects. Libria’s top Cleric, blandly-named John Preston, is devoted to the cause and has no remorse for the things he has done to people who had the audacity to feel. But, after a series of random accidents that impede his usual emotion-blocking ways, he begins to see things in a different light. He begins to feel, against all odds, and when he looks around himself and sees the totalitarian government he’s helping to support, he sees that a change must take place. He decides that he must become a member of his long-despised enemies, the Resistance. They seek to topple Father and let emotions free again, but skilled warriors such as him have pushed them to the brink. Can Preston, now awakened from his long emotion-less nightmare, end the tyranny and oppression of the order he fought so long for? Will his superiors in the government be able to contain what has awoken in their most dangerous agent?

If you like a lot of action, this might be a film for you. If you like a lot of highly dramatic (or overly dramatic) sci-fi that feels more like a John Woo film than anything else, this might be a film for you. If you ‘re having a dinner party and need an extra coaster, this might be a film for you. Otherwise, toss this movie on the ground and be on your way. Equilibrium is what would happen if the Wachowski brothers were huge Ray Bradbury fans; it’s a deformed baby of The Matrix and Farenheit 451 that is just too silly to be taken as seriously as it wants to be. It’s overly loud and unflinchingly stupid, and while director Kurt Wimmer deserves a modicum of credit for having the balls to create a fighting style called, no-joke, Gun Kata (!!!!!), but the fact that even that is taken ultra-serious really puts a damper on this dour little sci-fi flick.

That’s right, I said Gun Kata, and I wasn’t making an obscure reference to my penis. This is how people fight in THE FUTURE! They calculate the probability (very quickly, I assume) that a target will move into their line of fire, thereby increasing their accuracy ten-fold. It’s something that I’m sure most experienced shooters in THE PRESENT do nowadays anyway, but they needed a catchy slang word for their somewhat derivative martial arts hybrid style, so Gun Kata it is! How about Pistol Fu? Or how about Krav Ma-Glock? Or how about it’s just kind of embarrassing?

I wasn’t joking when I said that Equilibrium is a disgusting bastard child between Bradbury and Wachowski that can only be called either Kurt Wimmer or Bradchowski. Wimmer, if one takes the time to look at his career, has amazing scope, and can plot out visuals with a flair that can best be called impressive. Unfortunately, these visuals are stacked up around a bullshit story, like marble columns on a Port-o-potty. There’s no originality here. Everything in this film has already been done; not only before, but to death. The ideas presented of a totalitarian state enforcing a thought police are nothing new, the concept of a dystopia ravaged by war but rebuilt for a hefty price is a little stale, and I mean it with every fiber of my being when I say that the fighting and mindless action on display here could have come from any movie in the late 90s or early 00s. It’s not fresh in any capacity; the sharp gray and blue tones Wimmer uses only magnifies the dullness that sets in not long after the film begins.

Remember unassuming Christian Bale? Before he was an A-lister who yelled at people for getting in the shot, he was primarily a go-to guy for the more intrepid Hollywood projects. Well here, as the go-to guy, I feel honestly a little bad that he put so much into this only to receive nothing back. He is full-on 100% committed to this project as John “Get Me A More Interesting Name Than This” Preston, the super Black-Ops guy of the future. You can tell he was really sold on the idea of making a big-budget movie with a message, and he really does a fine job. His Gun Kata (HA!) is actually pretty cool in that Neo-esque way, and I find myself aligned with him closest during the scenes when he rediscovers his emotions again. Very good work. Taye Diggs plays Brandt, Preston’s disgruntled new partner. Not bad, but Taye Diggs seems to have some emotional blinders on here, because I feel like he was grossly off the mark for this character. I like Diggs, but I think altogether he missed his mark here. Emily Watson plays a key member of the Resistance, Mary. What a hottie!!! Watson, for me, is one of those gals I have a problem being objective with. She’s just the kind of celebrity that I like, and if I had to get intimate with a cold, lifeless sex hole of a celebrity, it would probably be Watson’s. And I mean that in the most respectful way imaginable. Aside from her looks, she brings a little to the table. She’s very plucky, and if you’re a member of a Resistance group in a movie, that’s pretty much a requirement. I like her here, and I can’t really imagine anyone else doing it. Also, keep an eye out in the beginning for Sean Bean, who plays Preston’s old partner, Partridge. It’s a bit part, as usual. This man always looks like he needs another job, so if you’re listening, Hollywood, give Sean Bean a chance in the States. You won’t regret it.

Equilibrium came out in the wrong time and place for it to be a success, and it came out at a time when perhaps the audience they were going for was just not there. Or maybe it was the fact that it wasn’t a very good movie. Whatever the reason, Equilibrium is slowly falling away to movie obscurity. If you’re interested in this sort of thing, I would catch it before it gets hard to find. Otherwise, everyone else should stay away from this one. It just doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t have the weight of importance or at the least a spattering of enjoyment to distract from the banality of this too-slick dystopian sci-fi. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s worth three strikes against it right there. I give Equilibrium 4 Bradchowskis out of 10!

Tomorrow I watch Falling Down as per request. Until then!!!

Dazed And Confused (1993), or Insert Marijuana Joke Here

This is my boss’s favorite movie. He always regales me with stories of this movie that I barely remember seeing a long time ago. I feel bad when I tell him I don’t remember it; like letting a hand raised for a high five go un-slapped, it just shouldn’t be done. And so I resolved myself to see this scant memory of a movie again, going so far as to look up deleted scenes and commentary afterwards. Dazed and Confused is, coming from the perspective of someone who has practically just seen it for the first time, an ambitious and irresistible coming-of-age flick that sprays awesome from the exhaust fume of its custom van.

There’s a lot to like here, with enough story to cover 2 movies easily. It’s set during one single day in a shitty Texas town during the mid 70s, and it focuses on the different social circles and agendas of a bunch of high schoolers. It’s the last day of school, and everyone has different plans. The soon-to-be senior boys and girls all have plans to haze the incoming freshmen, as is tradition. Randall “Pink” Floyd has plans to have a good time with his friends, which might just jeopardize his goal of playing football. Mitch Kramer, a freshman, tries in vain to avoid the hazing but ends up making friends with Pink, who gives him the opportunity to hang out with him and all his newly-senior friends to go cruising for fun and hijincks. They go smoke pot and drink with him for the first time, and each of Pink’s friends blossoms as a character, getting their own interesting story. As the day approaches night, things get wilder as the kids go out en masse to go find fulfillment and enjoyment in the hot summer darkness. Mitch his friend Carl have to contend with Fred O’Bannion, a pissed-off senior held back a year looking to haze them even further to sate his sadistic nature and dull the pain of staying in high school. Pink also has problems, being at odds with the coach and his football team who want him to sign a ridiculous pledge promising he won’t do anything to jeopardize a potentially Championship-winning season, not to mention the fact that they don’t want him hanging around with his best friends because of their bad influence (i.e. stoner tendencies).

But mostly it’s just an excuse to have wacky 70s stuff happen and crank some tasty tunes. Dazed and Confused is that perfect light and breezy view. It’s fun, vibrant, youthful, and full of energy that comes from nowhere but goes straight for the funny bone. Richard Linklater creates a feeling, a time, and a place that is so warm and inviting. Only his third feature, Linklater expounds on the ideas he brought forth in Slacker, perfecting it and expanding it to its logical groovy conclusion. It’s the bubbly tinge of youth’s fire in American Graffiti without the depressing epilogue. It came out at just the right time and place to take advantage of a feeling in the air that screamed for a real good time at the movies.

I won’t go too in-depth on the loose-knit story for you, seeing as the dialog is the major draw and not high school drama, but I do want to talk about the cast for a moment, because while a lot of these guys went onto later success, and a seemingly equal amount never amounted to anything, these are still good characters all the way around that you’ll care about and love . Jason London plays Pink, and he is a good-looking guy who channels almost a James Dean iconic status. He never went on to turn that many heads, but he makes sure you get your money’s worth on this one. Wiley Wiggins, famous geek and technical genius, plays Mitch, the king of the uncool abused freshmen. He’s a real laid back actor whose credibility comes from his nonchalance. Sometimes it gets a little real, though, and he still pulls through with aplomb; God, when he takes a few smacks from the older kids during the hazing, I feel like interjecting, like he was my little brother. Also, never went on to do anything else, so OOPS!. A young and still-sexy Milla Jovovich plays tomboyish but beautiful Michelle Burroughs. She is different than I’ve ever seen her before, and I mean there is almost NO recollection of her being so effervescent. She’s just unusually happy for her hard, sexy Eastern-bloc looks, and her demeanor quickly becomes a matter of HUH for me? It’s good, it’s just jarring. And, of course, the role that made McConaughey famous, Davis, is here. I somehow get the feeling that McConaughey didn’t have to try to hard to be this guy, who is an older man (possibly 30s?) that still goes to high school events to pick up girls (!!!). He really cleans house with that character, and I enjoyed his rollin’ ramblin’ style that has become so iconic in recent years. Every now and then, something will come out of McConaughey that doesn’t fuck my face up with its lameness, so I’m glad Linklater used him in JUST the right amount and just the right tone for that movie. Good job, DUDE!

I could go on; there’s a lot to tell about this little independent Texas feature. But I figure I can do an essay later, seeing as I’d REALLY like to go on about it right about now but have neither the research nor the time. I will say this; Dazed and Confused is a great movie about youth and long meaningful teenage conversations with a young, vibrant cast full of potential that needs maybe a little more focus, but overall has the immense appeal of a powerhouse comedy. It’s a good one to watch on Friday night, with the shades pulled back and your cologne pouring out of your pores as you try vigorously to get into the party spirit. I like it a lot, and i think you will too. I give Dazed and Confused 8 1/2 rollin’ ramblin’ men out of 10. Check it out!

Tomorrow, folks, we dive into Equilibrium! Until then!

The Piano (1993), or Peculiar Weight

I’d never heard about The Piano until last night. After a delightful dinner with friends, we conversed for what seemed like moments but was, in reality, hours, and in the course of our discourse, the subject of this film was broached. It was made imperative to me that not only did I have to see this film, but I had to review it. It was my new mission in life, and I was to make it a priority. And so I did. Not wasting any time, I tracked the film out like a wounded, shallow-breathing gazelle made out of celluloid. What I found after my extensive search and subsequent viewing of The Piano is that I cannot believe I lived in a time either before or after it. There is something so epochal about viewing this film that everything that happened before you started watching it is different than afterwards, and both of those two conditions are equally strange compared to when you’re in the moment watching it. It’s a movie that changes the way you think about Hollywood, the arts, and big-name actors, if only while you’re in the moment.

The Piano is a story-and-dialog-driven film, so there’s a LOT of stuff to cover. Like Sense and Sensibility or any Jane Austen period affair, it is filled with sweeping romance and a story that dances capriciously and wildly on the stylings of the age like a soft hammer on harpsichord strings. Set in the middle of the 19th century, a mute Scottish lass named Ada is being shipped off to rugged New Zealand after an arranged marriage. She’s being bargained off to a man named Alistair Stewart. Ada is a mysterious character, a woman who has no apparent reason to be mute, instead allowing her young daughter from a tumultuous affair with a teacher to communicate to the outside world using sign language. Her one joy in life, and her one real way of expressing herself, is with a piano that she ships all the way from Scotland. It is her means of interacting with the outside world, and she plays it obsessively in her new life on the frontier. It’s not easy living in the primordial nature of New Zealand for Ada and her daughter, and it’s even more difficult living with Alistair, whose dark demeanor and rough attitude leaves Ada cold to his embrace. The only thing that can comfort her is the piano, and when another frontiersman named Baines enters the picture, a passionate man who sees the beauty in Ada’s playing, the two find comfort where there was none for either of them before. What will happen in this odd New Zealand love triangle for these characters fashioned off the beaten trail?

If I had to say only one thing about The Piano, I would simply say that it holds an ocean of strong, almost unreadable emotion. Ada’s world is strange and harrowing, if not a little incomprehensible at times. She is strong, fiery, petulant, determined, vulnerable, dejected, and at times even manipulative; she’s a woman, real and plain and simple, flaws and all. She attracts all this larger-than-life drama because her own character is so large. It’s a fascinating character study into a character who seemingly chose not to speak.

Speaking of not speaking, the score by acclaimed composer Michael Nyman plays a very important role here. The score, you see, acts as Ada’s voice. It is her lifeline to the world, and so Nyman here envelops the audience with a powerful range of emotion that one cannot get from the lips of Ada, and therefore must be translated into the rich, sumptuous world of music. Tracks like “The Mood that Passes Through You” or “Silver Fingered Fling” are among the best piano pieces I’ve ever heard composed for a film. They’re simply a joy to hear, and if you like the feel of Romantic period piano music, then look no further than this intoxicating film. I recommend getting the soundtrack as well; I just downloaded 3 songs from it while I typed the intro to this review.

Jane Campion, a native New Zealander, uses her actors either as part of the wild majesty of her country or extreme foils to it. She captures with amazing breadth and scope the beauty of the world around us, not to mention the beauty of her  subjects. An Academy Award was well deserved for this film, and her direction was definitely up to snuff, so her loss that year was completely unexpected.

Characters like Harvey Keitel’s Baines exist in relative harmony with the living, breathing island, and despite his occupation (forester! Oops!) I still felt as though he belonged in the think of it, a necessary force in the frontier. Ada, on the other hand, is a modern woman wrapped in black and wholesomely clean. She represents with her Western piano all that New Zealand is not. Holly Hunter plays Ada, and interestingly enough, played the piano on most of these songs. She’s very accomplished, and she shows her amazing chops both in front of a lens and behind a camera, which really makes me wonder why she did that horrible Saving Grace show on TNT last year. Sam Neill cuts a malevolent figure as the tragic but ruthless Alistair, and while I honestly feel a little bad for him, since frigid Ada never really gave him much of a chance, he still had a lot of opportunity to not be such a tool. You’ll see what I mean when you watch it, but this guy really knows how to ruin a good time!

With a wonderful director at the helm, a well-evinced script, a legendary score, and a stable of quality actors (including even an early turn by Ms. Anna Paquin), The Piano is a movie that challenges us. It’s a period piece that throws emotions at us as if we were a ship out at sea. There is a lot to experience in this ever-expanding chasm of feeling that will leave you definitely changed in some small ways after you check it out. Do not miss this Oscar nominee from ‘93, or you will definitely regret it. Hell, I regret it and I didn’t know anything about it, so if you ignore my recommendation, you’re crossing your luck at your hazard. I give The Piano 9 hammers against the strings out of 10. A high recommendation!

Tomorrow I enjoy Dazed and Confused, DUDE! Until then!!!

Songs From The Second Floor (2000), or Modern Cacophony

Normally the lyricism of film is an alien thing compared to the lyricism of poetry. One isn’t necessarily better than the other, but they certainly have their differences, as anyone who has either read a poem or seen a movie could attest to. But today’s film, Songs from the Second Floor, has magically combined the two. It has the beauty of both formats combined into a printed image. Based on the poetry of César Vallejo, this Swedish art-house film really has no peer in the American art scene, so it’s a fascinating look into another world far across the ocean and deep into hearts not so different but stranger in a distant way.

It’s a tale of modern sadness and a cynical view towards the world we are making in the 21st century. Through a series of vignettes shot with a totally static camera, director Roy Andersson takes us through the disturbingly formal world of city life. With a floundering, gaunt economy looming large over the heads of our characters, who are not really deep, real people as much as they are philosophical postures that Andersson uses as a springboard. With characters like the man clinging to the leg of his boss, crying that he cannot lose his job after being so loyal to his company for so long, the economist who becomes desperate for an answer to the crisis and consults a crystal ball, the stock brokers flagellating themselves, marching beaten through the streets, or the son of a furniture store owner, waiting for him after he burns the store for insurance money, we are given only snippets of these people. They are shadows of this modern society, wraiths and forsaken spirits writhing beneath the shadows of skyscrapers. What will become of them and their sad existence? What will become of us, in this contemporary culture Andersson so disdains?

Every now and then, an exercise in form and philosophy is so potent that it puts even the most disciplined conventional films to shame. Songs from the Second Floor will have you enthralled, even as you choke on the ashes of your flammable modern world. It’s just so good that it will make you want to bone up on your post-modern philosophy (A-hyuck! I said bone up on…).  With comedy as black as the heart of Wall Street and a dire tone less serious than weary, it tests the limits of our ability to laugh and to feel with these incredibly emotional scenarios and these absurd characters of unusually rich philosophical insight. Andersson creates a world that is so damning of what we are as a Western capitalist culture that I might have to save a more detailed insight into it for an essay on the upcoming website (I’m not above tempting you with my insight to get you to come to my new site!).

I’m as impressed with Andersson as I am by his stable of gifted actors. Through his dense fog of murky filters, Andersson shifts a talented Nordic group of artists to bring meaning to each action, like the posing of players in a painting. Out of the short breadth these people get as far as creating multiple dimensions go, my two favorites here are Lars Nordh and Stefan Larsson, who play Kalle and Stefan respectively. Their vignettes are particularly wondrous, and I am officially hooked on their style of embracing the camera while it sits perfectly still. Andersson has to be the most audacious director in the sense that he isn’t directing at all in the traditional sense. Instead of moving the camera to encompass a canvas, he’s making the one shot as important and as visually meticulous as possible. It’s an effect that works wonders, especially in scenes like the upsetting magic show and the shocking, heart-breaking finale.

For fear of deterring you, I don’t want to even reveal that much to you about it or hype it up too much. I just think you need to see it. Not even because I’m entirely sure most of you will like it. But it’s an experiment and a powerful indictment against our very life and times. I’m impressed by Songs from the Second Floor, but I’m not going to harp on it too much, because like a delicate butterfly, I can see how I could ruin this experience by blabbing about it for 600 extra words. Just trust me when I say that it’s something you need to see. How about this; Go and see it, and in about 4 months, I will write an essay on it, and we can discuss it further from there. Deal? All right. Well, I give SftSF 9 twisted, haunting vignettes out of 10! A high recommendation!

Tomorrow I watch The Piano as per a request! Until then!