Reviews

Herein is one of those times when a film simply sucks but you love it anyway. Perhaps it is because it has been six years since I have had a taste of Tarantino. Perhaps its because I'm a sucker for all the hommage stick. Common people, Bruce Lee's yellow jump suit!! What ever the reason, this film entertained me. The Hong Kong action, the Western feel, the animae, all equals one rocking good afternoon in the dark. That aside, from a serious critical standpoint, this film is his worst. From wooden and over used characters like "Buck", to miraculous coma recoveries, to silly Batmanesq same time, same channel endings, this film is a huge disappointment from a man who looked like he was getting better with each release. If you put your action adventure goggles on, this is a winner. If you expect a Tarantino film, have an extra one at happy hour before buying your ticket.

It is a sad day for us. At the very time technology has reached new heights, the writing has commensurately declined to new lows. Treasure Island blends Robert Louis Stevenson and Robert Heinlein into something so wholly indistinguishable, as to be nothing short of sad. As my daughter sat there amazed by the cool boarding scenes, I could only secretly crumble knowing that she would soon forget the visual candy, and have nothing of the literature to bolster them with. Chalk another full length animated feature up for the Springer crowd.

Barbet Schroeder and especially photographer Luciano Tovoli are to be commended for attempting to bring a slick off beat thriller to mass release. Stuck in between "Last Exit to Brooklyn" and "The Hudsucker Proxy" Jennifer Jason Leigh turns in a solid performance and saves it from the clutches of Bridget Fonda (who was on her way to the inexcusable "Point of No Return" and struggling to find the talent she would display in her later films.) and the woeful Steven Weber. Unfortunately Leigh could not snatch the pen out Don Roos's hand and stop him from penning a typically ridiculous and cliche ending. SWF works all the way through until the last ten or fifteen minutes. At that point, you can no longer forgive Roos and to that matter Schroeder for their excesses. Unfortunately, it is the ending that reduces SWF to a level only slightly above stylized pap. Schroeder would again have this problem with "Desperate Measures", yet the man gave us "Barfly" so I guess we can give him some props for bringing style to the otherwise mundane.

Bob Rafelson's seminal work on the existential interplay of atheistic and moral tensions, still stands as a brilliant study of the artist's struggle with identity in the face of the freedom that life imposes on him. Easily Rafelson's best work, as well as one of Nicholson's strongest performances, "Five Easy Pieces" ushered in the greatest decade in American film making. Criticized by some as taking pot shots at overly wooden characters (Lorna Thayer's waitress, Irene Dailey's snooty intellectual are the one's frequently mentioned), this appears to be little more than the disquisition of dreary folks who get too little sun. Like many of the best films of the seventies, the protagonist's journey is littered with archetypal characters of the time. It could be argued that all of the supporting characters in "Five Easy Pieces" are represented in this manner. Yet far from being its Achilles heal, Rafelson's superior juxtaposition of these characters, drive Robert Dupea through life like a pinball. To this day, I feel that the chosen ending was what truly separated this film from the litany of character studies that would follow. Anybody who doubts the quality of film from those days compared to the canker that is contemporary Hollywood, need only imagine the ending if Soderbergh or God forbid Spielberg were allowed to rewrite it? Given that Soderbergh dared to defile "Ocean's Eleven" I guess we had better not speak to loud or it may come to pass.

Much like Pier Paolo Pasolini's "Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma" this film is difficult for people to get their mind around. In the case of "Salo...", the intensity of the brutality, plus the Italian political metaphor, make this understandable. Henry on the other hand, isn't that deep. In his inaugural effort behind the camera, McNaughton deftly composed a film that communicated the depravity of the sociopath. Moreover, "Henry" has obviously influenced the manner in which the genre of horror/crime films have been structured and had an impact on the way wide release films were rated. Yet the clamor surrounding this film then and now is a bit curious. The "gore" that repulsed many in "Harry" by had been done in countless films and paled against that which was seen in contemporary slasher films such as "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "Friday the 13th". The so called moral ambiguity of the film's conclusion while certainly well placed, wasn't ground breaking. Yet what is perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the uproar surrounding "Harry", is both the failure of the critical public, and McNaughton himself, to acknowledge the influence the rape and murder seen from "A Clockwork Orange" had on the most ghastly moment in this work. On the DVD version, McNaughton reminisces about how the video tape sequence was in his mind, the central moment in the film. Not only is Kubrick absent from this vestigia flammae, but so is any discussion of the scene standing as a larger metaphor. Thus, for those who have subsequently used this juxtaposition to establish some sort of didactic connection between the TV viewers on screen, Henry, Otis, and any and every movie viewer watching them appears to be the stuff of film class and coffee houses, and certainly wasn't due to the perspicacity of McNaughton. Regardless, "Henry" stands the test of time as a creative infusion of real life themes into the horror genre. In so doing, McNaughton does not give the audience the luxury of dismissing the events in the film as being fantastical. Herein lies the genius and the true horror of the film.

Some films are important less for their merit and more for the reaction they illicit. "Platoon" is my favorite example of this. To read the reviews of "Manchurian Candidate" on this data base you would think Orson Wells and Richard Condon never existed. While a bold effort by John Frankenheimer in his staging and shooting of the dream/hallucination sequences, he owed much to Wells for many of the slanted angles he employed. Further, George Axlerod dropped the ball at several key points in his adaption of Condon's original work, creating completely ludicrous character jumps for Bennet Marco & Rosie Chaney. Even so, the "Manchurian Candidate" stood out for many as a political thriller that allowed them to see the fluidity of political rhetoric. For some, this created a discerning eye that could see when the manipulators were domestic as well as foreign. Frankenheimer's best work ("Seven Days in May") was yet to arrive, but Candidate surely made that film possible. From a cinematic point of view, Candidate should be remembered simply as tour de force for Angela Landsbury and Laurence Harvey, yet we all know that the determination of a film's legacy goes way beyond its technical merit. Thus, Candidate holds water today despite its mediocre craftsmanship.

First off, this is an extremely well made film. Polanski is Polanski and in "Frantic" he breaks out all the bells and whistles. Superb staging, great camera work, excellent attention to continuity and detail. All and all a nice ode to master Hitchcock. This is where it ends for me. While Harrison Ford handles the character very well, his actions are as inexplicable as the entire premise of the film. Emmanuelle Seigner's character borders on the absurd and does the constant thumping of what even in 1988, was a dated Grace Jones sound track. I had to force myself see it to its inevitable conclusion. I recommend it only if your interested in viewing all of Polanski's work for the sake of comparison.

Leave it to BMW to create a promotional DVD of shorts ("The Hire")featuring their cars. The directors list is stunning: Frankenheimer, Ang Lee, Wong Kar-Wai, Guy Ritchie, and Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu. The range of the shorts go from the giddy (Ritchie) to the vainglorious (Inarritu), yet all are entertaining. From a strictly commercial sense, the efforts put forth by Frankenheimer and Ritchie present the best balance of entertainment and product endorsement. Basic plot, great stunt drivers, fast paced sound track, tongue in cheek humor. Perhaps a better representation of advertising, than great short films, "Ambush" et al were first made available over the Internet through BMW Films.com. Frankenheimer will soon resurrect "The Exorcist" saga with fellow short film writer/actor William Wisher. One can't help but to think that this little short was a safe promotional boost after the highly disappointing "Reindeer Games". All in all, not a bad way to spend fifteen minutes.

The Coens prove time and again its OK to be smart in Hollywood. In 1990 they brought the masses Dashiell Hammett, last year they introduced many to Homer, and this year they bring us Vladimir Nabokov dressed up in a film noir over coat. The parallels between Ed Crane and Nabokov's Humbert Humbert are inescapable. Both texts are written from the point of view of a dead man in a jail cell with a heightened awareness of audience; this point of view is immediately problematic in that, in neither works, can the audience trust that the narrator is reliable. Not only do we see an idealized version of Ed Crane's life and his handling of the events leading up to his execution, but both HH and EC encounter a similar parade of characters. Birdy, of coarse, is Dolly, the sexually provocative, forbidden, and despite EC's adoration quite an ordinary Clean Teen. Both are widowed by alcoholic wives whose carelessness is the cause of their demise. And like Quilty, the dry cleaning guy is not only murdered but he is also gay.

The point of this film is not for the audience to judge EC's actions, but to appreciate his story as a work of art, his tombstone or signpost in Nabokovian fashion. Because the audience is so frequently attuned to the heightened aesthetic that is characteristic of film noir, it proves to be an effective style to adopt for this tale. Furthermore, Crane preaches to us, in HH-ian fashion, through the mouths of his minor characters. Through the lawyer, we catch a glimpse of the postmodern crisis created by the many ways of seeing; that `the more you looked at it, the less you saw.' Through the eccentric piano teacher, we learn that, unlike the `executive curl', art is imprecise because it must come from the soul. Like HH, EC is a romantic whose life story is crafted with such precision that it reeks of artifice. And while his narrative sounds more like Dashiel Hammet than Harold Bloom, it is clear to me that if Humbert Humbert were a barber, he would be just like Ed Crane.

In his scything critique of the film, one of our more learned members known as "Cine6fr" (http://us.imdb.com/CommentsAuthor?511647) rightly pointed out that the film had "something to do with Frederick Jackson Turner's frontier thesis". But alas, the stereotypical nature of the characters kept him from appreciating the film. Hopefully the poor fellow learned a bit more about the frontier and film theory as time went on and realized the beauty of this film. Sydney Pollack's framing and editing is fantastic. The story communicates both the ethos of the "mountain man", and the American concept of the frontier in its totality. While the characters show some degree of humanity, ultimately the film chronicles the migration of "civilization" across the frontier and all the things it destroyed along the way. From wild life, to entire ways of life, Jeremiah's odyssey captures the twilight of a brief period in U.S. history.

"Ghost World" couldn't have come at a better time. In the midst of flag waving and the unquestioned celebration of the American life style, comes a movie that focuses on the aesthetic rather than the commercial. Like many of us who survived punk rock, the protagonist is the pure definition of a cynic. Long before she will ever know what she wants to be, she has identified what she abhors. It is in this juvenile eruditeness that the genius of "Ghost World" is expressed. The entire course of the film is dedicated to the notion that you must seek out more than the mundane, and that the "Don't worry, Be Happy" mentality is nothing more than the agiotage of soulless people who market John Tesh to the masses. Certain to be a double feature with "High Fidelity" once it is regurgitated on the art house circuit, "Ghost World" is both a welcome escape from Ari Fliescher and a small candle of hope that we will one day rise above ourselves.

For years I have been fascinated with David Cronenberg. His films have constantly wrestled with some of the larger philosophical issues of the modern era, and while they haven't always been good, they have been respectable efforts. I recently revisited "Shivers" when the DVD version came along. Included was a highly edited interview with the man himself. Not being privy to the questions being asked, all I can say was his comments on the film were scariest part of the entire experience. I thought "Shivers" was a decent low budget film. Quite often, film buffs use the excuse of budget to quickly elevate the mundane to lofty status. The ubiquitous term "cult classic" is synonymous with this exercitation. While "Shivers" is far from a classic, it is however a fine introduction of the themes Cronenberg would revisit through his entire career. Joe Blasco's special effects were creative, as he was an early pioneer in the use bladders to show subcutaneous movement. Beyond this, the movie is amateurish at best. The framing, sound, direction, acting, continuity et al. are simply horrid. Why the interview is so scary is that Cronenberg equates his effects to that of Marcel Vercoutere's efforts in the "Exorcist" and his story line to "Alien". To insinuate that Dan O'Bannon, Nick Allder, Ridley Scott, and the rest of the "Alien" creative staff was influenced by his parasites gives a new spin to the term megalomania. Cronenberg goes further, saying that the story line for "Shivers" was his pure inspiration, born in his little apartment in Canada. So all these years I thought he was "inspired' by the works of deSade, Bataille, Foucault, and Deleuze I was mistaken. I guess he never found any inspiration in Don Siegel's "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" or the Kubrick/Nabokov version of "Lolita". Alas, the knife that is the intimate knowledge of those we have admired cuts both ways. DVD interviews with David Fincher gave me new respect for him, while this one cut deep at my ability to see Cronenberg as an intellectual, rather than merely a film maker obsessed with his own perversions. So be it.

A quick blurb about a project that I thought was successful for the most part. The two reviewers below, captured the main faults with Mr. Gallo's effort. I would only add that I didn't get the impression from either of their comments that they felt they were viewing a comedy. Perhaps reliance on the satirical nature of things is my own form of denial when it comes to salvaging enjoyment from so many modern films. After all, I found "Fight Club" extremely enjoyable purely because it was an obvious satire, whose punch line alluded a surprising amount of critics. Similarly here, it is a valid criticism to find this film painfully solipsist. It is also a cogent criticism to find the other characters particularly Ricci's, to be underdeveloped to the point of being lifeless. However, in my viewing this WAS the point. This is an extremely dark comedy about a dysfunctional man, from a dysfunctional family, living in a dysfunctional world. My main complaint was Gallo didn't have the good sense to end the movie after the shootout montage. This is where the film was headed and was its logical end point. Where the film ultimately ends up was either satire ad absurdom or some sick effort to get this movie out off the art house circuit. Besides, anyone who mocks a retard should die in the end...

Jeremy Dimmick: http://us.imdb.com/CommentsAuthor?349780

1.85: http://us.imdb.com/CommentsAuthor?127673

First off, I write about "Videodrome" with the full acknowledgement that in 1983 David Cronenberg was establishing himself as one of the more original directors of his time. The 1980's was overloaded with drek, and this film reset the bar. "Videodrome" was Cronenberg's follow up to "Scanners". The film held together for 3/4 of its length before it drifted off into unintelligible ambiguity. Yet, it is exactly this fact that kept me from ultimately disliking the film as a hole. While I found the ending and the ultimate uselessness of the James Woods character unsatisfying, Cronenberg's failure to draw a discernable line between the "new flesh" and "Videodrome" led to some stimulating conversation. Concepts surrounding the purification of the flesh permeated many of his follow up efforts from "The Fly" to "Existenz" and over the years, he has improved on his ability to express them. Cronenberg has never made enjoyable films, yet he often makes ambitious ones. He is perhaps the only man crazy enough to make "Naked Lunch" and wrestle with Georges Bataille in "Crash". Love him or hate him, you have to respect the level of cinema he brings to the masses.

DeNiro, Norton, Brando, and Bassett Big names in what was otherwise an uninspired crime drama. More and more DeNiro seems to be going through the paces repeatedly playing the same character. Here he was clearly playing second fiddle to Norton whose breath of character carried the film. While it could have had something to do with the fact I saw this film in the same week as Jonathan Glazer's "Sexy Beast", "The Score" was a paint by numbers crime film whose best attributes where that it was not overly excessive in its pyrotechnics. Given this cast, that isn't saying much.

Errol Morris takes us on a ride detailing the fascinating story of Fred A. Leuchter. In so doing, he shows us what happens when the impertinent ideologue meets the power of political zealotry. The perception of Leuchter takes on many forms. On one hand, he is the very personification of the American dream by being a man who rose above his limited education and made a niche for himself in the business of execution. He is also the classic American idealist. A man who values the principles of the Constitution above all, even when defending them come at the expense of reputation and financial security. However, Leuchter is also termed an anti-Semitic death monger, and the very personification of immorality. Turgescence aside, in my view Leuchter falls somewhere in the middle.

Leuchter's take on the Constitutional tenants of cruel and unusual punishment are clear. He believes the state has the right to execute, yet not to "torture" the executed. A modern day Joseph Ignace Guillotin, Leuchter saw his role as providing a humane death for the condemned. By his own admission, Leuchter explained that his reputation as an "expert" on the varieties of killing machines, was formed in the absence of competition. Thus, Leuchter defined competency as being willing to do the research and solve the problem. This particular expression of his Constitutional piety found him opposed only by the anti-capital punishment lobby, a frame of reference that would prove inadequate once he agreed to help Ernst Zündel.

It is here that Morris and the film break down. While Morris competently sets the stage of how Leuchter could be become involved in the Zündel defense, what isn't clarified is Leuchter's take on his own methodology and the subsequent analysis done by the lab to which the rock samples were sent to. All the testimonials that deify and demonize him are the predicable protestations of political zealots. However, the moral linchpin of the entire Fred A. Leuchter story is the degree to which Leuchter felt he lived up to his stated definition of competence, and his behavior following the socio-political uproar. Instead, Morris leaves us with a multitude of hyperbolical expressions that provide little depth to the issue. Morris's cinematic quirks of angled shots, changeable film stocks, and Tesla coil effects are not enough to mask this ultimate failure. In all, an interesting yet unsatisfying effort at bringing a more comprehensive view to the story of Mr. Death.

What I enjoyed most about Alfonso Arau's "Like Water for Chocolate" was the distinctive Mexican imagery he brought to the screen. In many ways, the vision reminded me of a toned down Ken Russell. With this effort, the similarities to Russell are even more profound as are the ties to Matthew Bright's "Freeway". Yet "Picking up Pieces" cannot measure up to such lofty company. While visually stimulating, both the story and the performances are uneven. Woody Allen does his best to carry this film on his shoulders, but unfortunately, his screen time has to be divided with David Schwimmer. In all, this film is what you would expect from a first time director, doing his best to follow in the footsteps of his directorial heroes and not that of a man as accomplished as Arau. Bill Wilson's writing drops to plebian levels throughout the film, making you think that Allen did his fair share of add libbing. Ultimately the film is a poor facsimile of other people's work, a fact perhaps best represented in Eddie Griffin's character "Sediento". The character is based on a real person known to many as the "Venice Guitar Dude" who is an ubiquitous figure at Venice Beach, CA and formally on the Western tour dates of the Grateful Dead. One can only hope that the real "Venice Guitar Dude" got paid. Otherwise this film was a waste of my money.

Kurosawa's genius has been fully outlined all over the IMDB so let me just add a few quips about this seldom discussed film. First and foremost, one of the best nature films ever shot in 70mm and second, a refreshing handling of cosmotheism without grandstanding. The creation and development of the character Dersu Uzala was stunning and Maksim Munzuk's portrayal brilliant.

That being said, one point of contention. For the wily Captain Vladimir Arseniev to lock Dersu down in the hell of a 20th century city simply because he needed glasses, bothered me when I saw this film fifteen years ago, and it stills bothers me today. Oh sure, many would say chiding Kurosawa about that is like bringing up slaves and Jefferson but by God even Leo X used glasses to improve his hunting in the 16th Century! Surly there was one affordable pair of spectacles in Eastern Russia in 1907. Couldn't the tiger have ripped his leg off instead?

For years the debate on Malick has been a simple one, is he a great director because he makes beautifully lyrical films, or is he a lazy over rated director because he makes beautifully lyrical films that rely on the voice over? For me, the use of the voice over has never been a cop out per se. Somewhere between "My Dinner with Andre" and the action genre, a voice over can be helpful if not necessary. Malick has used this technique to propel his previous films ("Badlands" & "Days of Heaven")and focus the movie goers attention to the moral ambiguities being portrayed on the screen. In each case, I found the narrative to be unassuming and not a representation of his inability to craft a story through his lens. In the case of "Thin Red Line", the enormity of the issues at hand takes the voice over to the forefront, admittedly making it the central delivery system of the narrative. So once again is Malick lazy or skilled? I believe he is the latter and "Thin Red Line" is a wonderful film for this reason. Simple themes such as life being out of balance can be delivered in image alone. Godfrey Reggio proved this with his brilliant "Koyaanisqatsi". Yet attempting to communicate the struggles between action and thought, technology and nature, innocence and corruption in a manner average movie goers can grasp is a tall order (a casual read of a cross section of comments on this film shows just how tall indeed). So Malick's reliance on multiple voice overs can be excused. The "Thin Red Line" is a beautiful and complex film that provides a fitting end to his trilogy that started in 1973 with "Badlands".

Dominik Moll's control of tension will leave many bored, but than many would say the same of George Sluizer's "Spoorloos" aka "The Vanishing". In short, it is the French approach and to me represents film making of a bygone era in America. My darling wife made mention that "Hitchcock it ain't" but for me, it is exactly that. Many of the classics are slow by today's standards, yet this is a representation of the degradation of premise and writing that has been replaced by CGI and tits. Harry gives you all a movie is suppose to. Moments of levity, strong acting, developed characters, and the ambiguity of morality that lends itself to good discussion after the fact. Love or hate it, Harry is a film worthy of your time. All I can say is I hope that Moll chooses not to follow in the footsteps of Sluizer and give us an American version with the likes of Jeff Bridges in the lead role. Even the French can be whores.

All of the talk concerning the originality of E. Elias Merhige and Steven Katz's effort appears to be part of the new "Art House Hyperbole". One running joke that Max Schreck actually was a real vampire, and a few moments of quality black humor, wasn't enough to carry the project. In the end, all I could say about the film was that it was silly. The most spectacular aspect of the film was Willem Dafoe's performance as Count Orlock and the coy casting of Udo Kier (Andy Warhol's Dracula) as the "producer". Everything else from the sets, the lighting, and John Malkovich were ordinary at best.

Ang Lee is quickly showing the world that he crosses over the genre hurdle better than any director out there today. "Ride with the Devil" is an action film, a period piece, and a history lesson, all nicely wrapped up in a good narrative with spectacular cinematography. Each character experiences growth, loss, and some form of resolution. Best of all, story and action are handled with respect. Perhaps the best part of any Ang Lee film is never having to overlook some glaring deficiency in order to reach the story's climax. All in all the team of Lee and James Schamus are building a repertoire of fine films. Clearly a bright spot in the ugly shadow of big budget Hollywood pap.

Seijun Suzuki refers to his films as "entertainment" and without critical merit. Yet, this was somewhat tongue in cheek as he stated that critics feel a movie must have a "moral or some social commentary" to be worthy of attention. Be that as it may, "Branded to Kill" is simply a fantastic achievement. Suzuki was working with both a lead man and a script provided to him by the Nikkatsu Corporation. As such, when you evaluate his films, you do so by focusing on the technical merits. Personally, I find his disconnected editing, and surreal lighting styles to be amazing. Suzuki's skill turns what is otherwise a laughable boiler plate film noir into something more. The lighting and editing make the exclamations that the script doesn't, and the decision to shoot the final scene in a boxing ring is brilliant.

It was entertaining to watch person after person jump up and down about the originality of "Ghost Dog" with no mention of the fact that Jarmusch lifted one of the assassination sequences unchanged from "Branded to Kill". Hopefully as more of Suzuki's work comes to DVD, people and critics alike will recognize a blatant tribute when it is given. Suzuki deserves them all.

Like a rocket ship, Christopher Nolan has arrived. Not since Bryan Singer and Christopher McQuarrie hit us with "The Usual Suspects" have I seen a thriller this refreshing. The plot unfolds in reverse with ingenuity and seamless precision. Much as McQuarrie relied on Verbal Kint's monologue to carry the viewer from scene to scene, Nolan allows an ongoing telephone conversation to grease his transitions. A case can be made that Nolan is even more successful. The film's over arching themes of denial, and the difficulty of living a life that acknowledges a past, present, and future, keep the conversations going well after the movie ends.

Guy Pearce is outstanding and with this role, should begin to be noticed for the versatile actor he is. Even though Carrie-Anne Moss turns in a credible performance, she will never get out from under "Trinity" in what may end up being sixteen sequels to "The Matrix". Surprisingly, Joe Pantoliano plays the same character he has been playing for 13 years and as is often the case, does it well. Remember what your momma told you about practice?

Hopefully this is just the beginning for Nolan, yet his next project is an action film with big Al Pacino and (gasp) Robin Williams. With any luck, he will follow McQuarrie's example rather than Singer's. Even if he is a one hit wonder, "Memento" will stand the test of time.

All anyone can say about John Lurie is that he has been a fresh, creative voice in music and film for a long time. I don't think many people fully understand Zappa, nor did anyone get Blair's "Wax, or the Discovery of Television Among the Bees" and Lurie is similarly inaccessible. For whatever reason, I find his work sublime. This series of shows is a riot for anyone who laughed out loud more than three times while watching "Fargo".