Perhaps the worst thing that can be said about a movie is when the actual subject matter, or simply the gist of it, is the least interesting part. As soon as the first Decepticon enters our screen, the movie takes an infinite plunge towards a state that I can't even bring myself to utter here.
Shia LeBoef plays Sam, whose grandfather came across Megatron during his expedition to the Arctic circle. He finds himself a target for the Decepticons - the baddies. They are after a cube that has supposed to spawn life in the universe. In their tail are the Autobots - the good guys. What ensues is a bloody mess to save the humans. How many millions of dollars of damage the battle cost the humanity is never mentioned. Nor is the psychological impact. Nor the dead bodies. Unless they are fighting for us, it's okay for us to sacrifice ourselves, right?
The family interaction between Sam and his parents is priceless. LeBoef gives an excellent performance and once again proves that he is one of the most talented young actors of our time. However, once the family is out of the picture, the film never recovers. There are one too many subplots that lead nowhere logical. The writers, or Michael Bay, have forgotten the basic ingredients like story and character development. Instead they sacrifice both to serve a stupid plot line.
Other than a couple of slow-mo fight scenes between the titular 'heroes', the CGI is confusing and, frankly, rather cheap. This is nothing but a big-budget advertisement for General Motors and its gas guzzlers.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
There Will Be Blood (2007)
Perhaps the most appropriate categorization for There Will Be Blood is horror.
It is the story of a grotesque man that lives in a grotesque time in a grotesque place. Daniel Day-Lewis chews his way through every scene that leaves an indelible scar on the proceedings. This is coupled by Johnny Greenwood's (of Radiohead fame) incredibly jarring and brilliant string-work.
The film is an absolute gem of film making. It hypnotizes its way through our psyche and when we realize that we have been watching a downward spiral of a man at the end, the impact is unlike any epic. When you consider sprawling epic stories of people rising to divine greatness and then fall to the depths of moral and physical decay, the transition is usually shown by an incident. Take, for instance, the first two Godfathers. The change in fortunes come after important and vivid events: Don Corleone's assassination attempt, Sonny beating up Carlo, Fredo's slip-up. In the world of PT Anderson, his previous films also showed this event-that-changed-it-all (spoiler here!): William H. Macy's suicide in Boogie Nights (1997).
When Daniel Plainview's son comes back from San Francisco, everything seem to be going swell for him: he has just signed a deal with Union Oil for the pipelines; by going to the church, he earned the respect of the locals; and his son is finally back. But the ensuing dinner scene shows that we have been watching his decline rather than his ascend. Kudos to Anderson.
It is not the best(!) movie of the year, but it is certainly the most impressive.
It is the story of a grotesque man that lives in a grotesque time in a grotesque place. Daniel Day-Lewis chews his way through every scene that leaves an indelible scar on the proceedings. This is coupled by Johnny Greenwood's (of Radiohead fame) incredibly jarring and brilliant string-work.
The film is an absolute gem of film making. It hypnotizes its way through our psyche and when we realize that we have been watching a downward spiral of a man at the end, the impact is unlike any epic. When you consider sprawling epic stories of people rising to divine greatness and then fall to the depths of moral and physical decay, the transition is usually shown by an incident. Take, for instance, the first two Godfathers. The change in fortunes come after important and vivid events: Don Corleone's assassination attempt, Sonny beating up Carlo, Fredo's slip-up. In the world of PT Anderson, his previous films also showed this event-that-changed-it-all (spoiler here!): William H. Macy's suicide in Boogie Nights (1997).
When Daniel Plainview's son comes back from San Francisco, everything seem to be going swell for him: he has just signed a deal with Union Oil for the pipelines; by going to the church, he earned the respect of the locals; and his son is finally back. But the ensuing dinner scene shows that we have been watching his decline rather than his ascend. Kudos to Anderson.
It is not the best(!) movie of the year, but it is certainly the most impressive.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Rescue Dawn (2006)
Werner Herzog knows how to shoot films in the jungle. Fitzcarraldo (1982) and Cobra Verde (1987) are sufficient to classify him as the King of the Jungle Movies. Another thing he is also good at is portraying a character that is irredeemably at odds with his environment (I'm specifically using the male gender here). Just look at the magnificent Woyzeck and not-so-magnificent Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (both 1979). What is also crucial about these films is that they all featured the inimitable Klaus Kinski in the titular roles. Christian Bale is not Klaus Kinski, but he comes very close in capturing the captured Air Force pilot, Dieter Dengle - so much so that, he is a refreshing take on an actor-becoming-the-character.
During a classified mission in Laos, before the official start of the Vietnam War, Bale's plane falls in the jungle. After being captured by the Laotian soldiers and subjected to torture, he is transferred to a POW camp. There he meets two fellow Americans (Steve Zahn and an incredibly thin Jeremy Davis - who is, by the way, Klaus Kinski of he film) and three South Vietnamese prisoners. After assuming leadership, he encourages them to escape.
The scenes in the camp are done very elegantly. There aren't any gruesome torture scenes, but we see friendships and enmities forming very slowly. When the escape doesn't work out as planned, Zahn and Bale stick together and make their way through the jungle together, where more peril awaits them.
Emotionally Rescue Dawn is very satisfying. The shots, as always with Herzog, are masterly. Every tracking shot is intricately woven into another. With the exception of Davis's overacting, Zahn and, especially, Bale give excellent performances. Bale and Davis, in fact, go to extreme method shenanigans at certain points. However, the ending is too corny for comfort. Also the Top Gun-esque banter between the pilots at the beginning feels too artificial.
Despite some of the issues at the bookends, Rescue Dawn is a film with fantastic imagery, good acting, and some very tense moments.
During a classified mission in Laos, before the official start of the Vietnam War, Bale's plane falls in the jungle. After being captured by the Laotian soldiers and subjected to torture, he is transferred to a POW camp. There he meets two fellow Americans (Steve Zahn and an incredibly thin Jeremy Davis - who is, by the way, Klaus Kinski of he film) and three South Vietnamese prisoners. After assuming leadership, he encourages them to escape.
The scenes in the camp are done very elegantly. There aren't any gruesome torture scenes, but we see friendships and enmities forming very slowly. When the escape doesn't work out as planned, Zahn and Bale stick together and make their way through the jungle together, where more peril awaits them.
Emotionally Rescue Dawn is very satisfying. The shots, as always with Herzog, are masterly. Every tracking shot is intricately woven into another. With the exception of Davis's overacting, Zahn and, especially, Bale give excellent performances. Bale and Davis, in fact, go to extreme method shenanigans at certain points. However, the ending is too corny for comfort. Also the Top Gun-esque banter between the pilots at the beginning feels too artificial.
Despite some of the issues at the bookends, Rescue Dawn is a film with fantastic imagery, good acting, and some very tense moments.
Friday, January 18, 2008
The Host (Gwoemul, 2006)
It is very difficult to categorize The Host. At first it has a Jaws-like feeling, which dissipates as soon as the 'monster' graces our screen. It then morphs into a very black satire and ends with an emotional intensity worthy of the last 15 minutes of Dancer in the Dark - perhaps not a good analogy, but you get the idea. Oh, and lest we forget, it is a valid political statement.
It starts off with a fussy American scientist telling his subordinate to dump toxic material through the drain. Why? Because the bottles are dusty. Fast forward to a few years to the Park family. This is a dysfunctional family, who realize that what held them together was the teenager Hyun-seo. Her narcoleptic father, homely grandfather, drunk uncle, and professional archer aunt gather in a sports facility along with the other victims' relatives. The scenes are starkly familiar to the Superdome clips immediately after Katrina. The bleak mood soon disappears once the Parks begin their loud and, frankly, rather ludicrous mourning. I might be missing something here in terms of cultural difference, but this form of exaggeration is a pattern that is used throughout the film. Oh, and the Government insist that whoever came into contact with the monster is contagious.
Unable to wait any longer, the Parks escape and hunt for the monster to save their youngest family member. From this point on, the film switches moods even more. The grandfather dies along the way and the Government officials, with the help of the United States, capture Hyun-seo's father. His uncle continues his search with clandestine methods. The end sees the surviving family reuniting to kill the monster once and for all. Meanwhile, the United States government forces the Korean government to use Agent Yellow. Confused? I'm just skimming over the plot lines here.
Despite this convoluted and implausible plot, the film delivers its political message loud and clear. Too unsubtle it may be, but there is something deeply moving about the film. The Parks become extremely vulnerable and you actually start feeling for them. I don't want to give away the ending, but it is not a happy one. Or, it depends how you look at it. I just hope that they don't make a sequel to it.
It starts off with a fussy American scientist telling his subordinate to dump toxic material through the drain. Why? Because the bottles are dusty. Fast forward to a few years to the Park family. This is a dysfunctional family, who realize that what held them together was the teenager Hyun-seo. Her narcoleptic father, homely grandfather, drunk uncle, and professional archer aunt gather in a sports facility along with the other victims' relatives. The scenes are starkly familiar to the Superdome clips immediately after Katrina. The bleak mood soon disappears once the Parks begin their loud and, frankly, rather ludicrous mourning. I might be missing something here in terms of cultural difference, but this form of exaggeration is a pattern that is used throughout the film. Oh, and the Government insist that whoever came into contact with the monster is contagious.
Unable to wait any longer, the Parks escape and hunt for the monster to save their youngest family member. From this point on, the film switches moods even more. The grandfather dies along the way and the Government officials, with the help of the United States, capture Hyun-seo's father. His uncle continues his search with clandestine methods. The end sees the surviving family reuniting to kill the monster once and for all. Meanwhile, the United States government forces the Korean government to use Agent Yellow. Confused? I'm just skimming over the plot lines here.
Despite this convoluted and implausible plot, the film delivers its political message loud and clear. Too unsubtle it may be, but there is something deeply moving about the film. The Parks become extremely vulnerable and you actually start feeling for them. I don't want to give away the ending, but it is not a happy one. Or, it depends how you look at it. I just hope that they don't make a sequel to it.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen, 2006)
It is an admirable task to humanize a Stasi agent. Not only were they the very personification of absolute authority over personal freedom, but they carried out their mission with utmost rigidity and brute force. A tale of redemption for such an agent is hard to stomach, even for the charitable ones. However, the Cologne-born Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck (now that is a noble) manages to weave a story around one such agent's story of redemption and reward.
Ulrich Muhe (the passive, yet just, father in Haneke's original Funny Games (1997)) gives a performance that does justice to his name. Sadly, the actor passed away days before the Academy Awards where this film went home with the Best Foreign Language award. The large blue beads that stand in for his eyes never lose their brilliance. Yet, during moments of betrayal / loyalty, his face shows a million storms brewing inside. How he managed to do that is a mystery to me. Pedro Almodovar once described one of his frequent actresses, Chus Lampreave, as "uncategorizable". She wouldn't act, nor not-act. It is something in between. Ulrich Muhe's acting is similar: he is not acting for the camera, or the audience; but, he is much more than just another person passing by.
The film isn't just Muhe's perfect performance; the directing is also of the highest caliber. Von Donnersmack paints an East Germany that looks peaceful and (dare I say it?) attractive. However, the evil that is lurking underneath this facade is ever present. Wiesel is some kind of Big Brother - and ironically he acts like a big brother by protecting the object of his mission from forces bigger than him.
The climax could have handled with a little better pacing, but that is the only negative comment I can give to this film. And I dare anybody not to shed a few tears for the duration of the film - whether it is when Wiesel is reading Brecht, or the "Sonata for the Good Man", or the epilogue. Brilliant.
Ulrich Muhe (the passive, yet just, father in Haneke's original Funny Games (1997)) gives a performance that does justice to his name. Sadly, the actor passed away days before the Academy Awards where this film went home with the Best Foreign Language award. The large blue beads that stand in for his eyes never lose their brilliance. Yet, during moments of betrayal / loyalty, his face shows a million storms brewing inside. How he managed to do that is a mystery to me. Pedro Almodovar once described one of his frequent actresses, Chus Lampreave, as "uncategorizable". She wouldn't act, nor not-act. It is something in between. Ulrich Muhe's acting is similar: he is not acting for the camera, or the audience; but, he is much more than just another person passing by.
The film isn't just Muhe's perfect performance; the directing is also of the highest caliber. Von Donnersmack paints an East Germany that looks peaceful and (dare I say it?) attractive. However, the evil that is lurking underneath this facade is ever present. Wiesel is some kind of Big Brother - and ironically he acts like a big brother by protecting the object of his mission from forces bigger than him.
The climax could have handled with a little better pacing, but that is the only negative comment I can give to this film. And I dare anybody not to shed a few tears for the duration of the film - whether it is when Wiesel is reading Brecht, or the "Sonata for the Good Man", or the epilogue. Brilliant.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
I Stand Alone (Seul Contre Tous, 1998)
Gaspar Noe's somewhat-prequel to his infamous reverse-narrative film Irreversible (2001) is a re-telling of Taxi Driver (1976), but delivered with a more sadistic approach. While Scorsese and Schrader 's film features a hateful protagonist with a heart, Noe's Butcher is very difficult to like. In the opening voice-over he admits to sexual feelings towards his own daughter. Even though his daughter doesn't appear until the last fifteen minutes or so, the cloud of this statement looms over the film all the way to the end.
After beating his pregnant wife / girlfriend senseless and forcing an abortion, the Butcher leaves Lille for Paris with the gun he stole from his mother-in-law and settles in the hotel room where his daughter was conceived. He has only 300 francs in his pocket, but his prospects of finding a job is slim. His old friends refuse him money, mostly because they are in worse states than him. The economy is in shambles and unemployment is on the rise. The film is set in 1980 and the streets of Paris are nothing like the romantic utopia of Amelie (2001) - they are desolate and cold. It feels like a post-apocalyptic city, where the majority of the population is annihilated and the rest spend time in dingy bars sipping stale red wine.
In the duration of the movie, the Butcher hardly ever converses with anybody. There is a continuous internal monologue that sometimes borders on stream-of-consciousness. Philippe Nahon gives a very good performance as the Butcher - his expresisonless face is a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside. And what a storm it is. After being refused a job once too many and thrown out of a bar, he plans his bloody revenge. His voice grows raspier, his respiration speeds up, yet his face holds its steady look. There aren't many more terrifying faces than this in cinema.
Like Irreversible, there are many unconventional narrative and filmic techniques that Noe uses. And those are the things that seem to be failing in the film. There are more than one flash-zooms accompanied by a shot-gun. It keeps you on the edge of your seat, but it also makes you wonder if it is at all necessary. There are title cards that "explain" the themes of the story, such as "Living is a selfish act. Survival is a genetic law." These act more like distractions than philosophy. Also, the ending feels like Noe being unsure on which note to leave the audience. There is another title card at the end that warns the audience to leave the theater. What comes next is quite graphic and strong, but Noe uses a very cliched device to ease our hearts. And just when it seems to be ending with a catharsis, he re-introduces "ultimate sin" once again. It sticks out like a sore thumb in an otherwise very good film.
After beating his pregnant wife / girlfriend senseless and forcing an abortion, the Butcher leaves Lille for Paris with the gun he stole from his mother-in-law and settles in the hotel room where his daughter was conceived. He has only 300 francs in his pocket, but his prospects of finding a job is slim. His old friends refuse him money, mostly because they are in worse states than him. The economy is in shambles and unemployment is on the rise. The film is set in 1980 and the streets of Paris are nothing like the romantic utopia of Amelie (2001) - they are desolate and cold. It feels like a post-apocalyptic city, where the majority of the population is annihilated and the rest spend time in dingy bars sipping stale red wine.
In the duration of the movie, the Butcher hardly ever converses with anybody. There is a continuous internal monologue that sometimes borders on stream-of-consciousness. Philippe Nahon gives a very good performance as the Butcher - his expresisonless face is a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside. And what a storm it is. After being refused a job once too many and thrown out of a bar, he plans his bloody revenge. His voice grows raspier, his respiration speeds up, yet his face holds its steady look. There aren't many more terrifying faces than this in cinema.
Like Irreversible, there are many unconventional narrative and filmic techniques that Noe uses. And those are the things that seem to be failing in the film. There are more than one flash-zooms accompanied by a shot-gun. It keeps you on the edge of your seat, but it also makes you wonder if it is at all necessary. There are title cards that "explain" the themes of the story, such as "Living is a selfish act. Survival is a genetic law." These act more like distractions than philosophy. Also, the ending feels like Noe being unsure on which note to leave the audience. There is another title card at the end that warns the audience to leave the theater. What comes next is quite graphic and strong, but Noe uses a very cliched device to ease our hearts. And just when it seems to be ending with a catharsis, he re-introduces "ultimate sin" once again. It sticks out like a sore thumb in an otherwise very good film.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
The Hospital (1971)
Paddy Chayefsky's 1971 black comedy is a story with multiple facets, or should I say a facet with multiple stories. This slow decline to an apocalyptic state is told with at least three differing stories with the same setting. However, this should not suggest The Hospital as a multiple narrative comedy a la MASH (1970), but a single narrative unsure about where to concentrate.
George C. Scott plays the inspirational suicidal doctor - a role tailor-made for him and he is, as always, amazing. He is trying to find a meaning for his miserable life - he just left his menopausal wife for the umpteenth time; he is having sexual problems that he refuses to admit - but a serial killer, who murders doctors guilty of malpractice, gets in his way.
There are seriously funny moments, such as the cold reaction of the nurse who finds the first victim or the fussy patient who tries to convince everyone that there was a "naked Indian" in his room the previous night. It is at these moments that the movie shines. Unfortunately, this is not a prototype of George Lucas' seriously mishandled Radioland Murders (1994). When Scott starts his expository monologues about his life and the introduction of Diana Rigg's sultry faux-hippy (with a rather lightly-handled rape scene), the film takes a downward plunge. For long stretches of the film, we get a duel of monologues with strong sexual underpinnings that are fascinating on their own, but add nothing to the story. What about the chaos in the hospital? Does anybody care about the dead doctors?
To make things more complicated for redundant reasons there is also a socio-political unrest brewing underneath all this in the shape of people protesting the hospital for kicking out poor families from a tenement building to build a new drug rehabilitation center. It is unclear what Chayefsky is trying to say here. Were the free love of the '60s and early '70s a catalyst for the apocalypse? If so, how come his main character is rejuvenated by a raunchy night with a young woman? In fact, Scott's character refuses to leave the hospital in the end. He justifies his decision by stating that the hospital needs him. Is he the answer to all the society's problems? By letting a murderer go free after killing people in the name of an apparition, the film gives a very negative solution to an aching society.
I have to admit, though, that George C. Scott gives one of the best performances I have ever seen. He seems to have been stuck in some very bad movies. The Changeling (1980) anyone?
George C. Scott plays the inspirational suicidal doctor - a role tailor-made for him and he is, as always, amazing. He is trying to find a meaning for his miserable life - he just left his menopausal wife for the umpteenth time; he is having sexual problems that he refuses to admit - but a serial killer, who murders doctors guilty of malpractice, gets in his way.
There are seriously funny moments, such as the cold reaction of the nurse who finds the first victim or the fussy patient who tries to convince everyone that there was a "naked Indian" in his room the previous night. It is at these moments that the movie shines. Unfortunately, this is not a prototype of George Lucas' seriously mishandled Radioland Murders (1994). When Scott starts his expository monologues about his life and the introduction of Diana Rigg's sultry faux-hippy (with a rather lightly-handled rape scene), the film takes a downward plunge. For long stretches of the film, we get a duel of monologues with strong sexual underpinnings that are fascinating on their own, but add nothing to the story. What about the chaos in the hospital? Does anybody care about the dead doctors?
To make things more complicated for redundant reasons there is also a socio-political unrest brewing underneath all this in the shape of people protesting the hospital for kicking out poor families from a tenement building to build a new drug rehabilitation center. It is unclear what Chayefsky is trying to say here. Were the free love of the '60s and early '70s a catalyst for the apocalypse? If so, how come his main character is rejuvenated by a raunchy night with a young woman? In fact, Scott's character refuses to leave the hospital in the end. He justifies his decision by stating that the hospital needs him. Is he the answer to all the society's problems? By letting a murderer go free after killing people in the name of an apparition, the film gives a very negative solution to an aching society.
I have to admit, though, that George C. Scott gives one of the best performances I have ever seen. He seems to have been stuck in some very bad movies. The Changeling (1980) anyone?
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