Reviews

I saw the redux version of Apocalypse now the day before yesterday and it's stuck in my mind since. I had already seen it, nevertheless the experience of watching it again was (as it always is) very refreshing! It's like admiring a painting by Michelangelo or DaVinci for a second time and being mesmerized by every detail, every color, every line.

For a bit of plot summary, the movie follows captain Willard (Sheen) who during the Vietnam war is given the mission of killing a highly decorate Colonel, Kurtz (Brando). Kurtz has retrieved deep within the Cambodjian forest, exercising his command without any restrains and leading a group of native followers who constitute "his" army. So Willard must pick up his track and get to him by hitchhiking a ride with a patrol boat crew up the river and into the heart of the forest, or more fittingly into the heart of darkness.

This movie should not be viewed as a docudrama from the GI's point of view, shedding some light on the horrors of the War in Vietnam, or of war in general. Apocalypse now is more of a soul searching experience within a war background, a war whose worse aspects provide the elements needed to create the canvas in which the story evolves. If I'm allowed to indulge in some free interpretation, the movie is an exercise on the worst side within the human psyche, its darkest side, and the path leading to it, a path that Sheen's character is forced to pursue as he searches for Kurtz. As he begins to understand him he also starts to get closer to that darkness within him. So the whole journey up the river can be understood as an allegory for a journey into the soul, into that dark side where Kurtz supposedly has reached and which is very well suggested in the narrative by his encroaching in the heart of the jungle. As a matter of fact there are enough suggestions and key moments in the movie to support this (possible) interpretation. It's as if John Millius and Francis Ford Coppola tried to adapt Joseph Conrad's book ("The heart of darkness"), as a kind of Dante's Inferno blended in the Vietnam war.

But this abstract and stylistic journey isn't brought fourth by merit of the script alone. The visual style, the editing, the score, all contribute to this complex canvas as I called it: Vittorio Storaro's cinematography alternates between a pale daylight and the dark night photography, sprinkled with only a few bright lights giving a sense of otherworldly atmosphere to the whole movie. That along with Carmine Coppola's eerie score ultimately emphasizes Willard's psychedelic journey.

I must say that although I haven't seen the original version for over ten years, I think the redux version is better. The biggest throwback in this version might be the French plantation scene in which Coppola indulges in considerations about colonialism and patriotism. And although its subject is not devoid of merit (or mishandled for that matter), the fact is that this scene completely stops the movie just as Willard's journey is near the end. However the scene itself can be appreciated for its worth as it doesn't play down all the other inserts in the movie which add a little more depth in secondary characters (like Willards boat companions) alluding to the fact that they too join Willard in his human hellish descent.

It wouldn't be fare to go without mentioning the acting: the trio Sheen, Brando and Duvall stand out! Martin Sheen is very convincing, as a man that doesn't fit in society. A soldier aware of his terrible part in the war and a perfect Dantesque character for the journey ahead; Brando and Duvall impersonate the characters already gone that far "up the river", which highlights the hypocrisy of the generals who condemn Kurtz yet condone Colonel Kilgore's (Duvall) equally unsound warfare. As for Marlon Brando… well, he always distinguished himself portraying characters on the edge of a strait razor, and here he paints yet another wonderful performance in the history of cinema, despite his short screen time.

Aside for this a note worth mention: the arduous work by Francis Ford Coppola in making this masterpiece possible is documented in "the hearts of darkness", a documentary about the already known troubles that plagued the shooting and production of this movie. But that, is for another review… I hope my words have been of some help to you!

This movie is still a puzzle to me, even more so than the first time I saw it fourteen years ago. Curiously, that very first time I didn't thought much of it. I was hoping for something that could shed some light in to the events described at the opening of its sequel, "2010: year of contact" (of all things!). That really put the hook on me. But then again 2001 is not a movie to provide fast or conventional entertainment, let alone to provide you with answers.

If one has to write a review on a movie such as "2001: A space odyssey", the very first problem that comes to the central fore is the fact that there is no conventional plot line for the viewer to follow. The way I see it, this movie is made of an overture, three acts, and a (very) long epilogue. The first act deals with the misshapenings of a group of pre-historic men fighting with a rival gang for possession of a water lake. We then leap to the twenty first century, traveling with scientist Heywood Floyd to the moon where he has to deal with a ground breaking discovery. In the third act, aboard the spaceship Discovery and half way in a mysterious mission to Jupiter, a drama unfolds as the on board supercomputer HAL 9000 appears to malfunction and plunges astronauts Dave Bowman and Frank Poole in a struggle to survive. Along these seemly unrelated acts, the only thing resembling a plot line is the close encounter between the characters of each story and a mysterious object in the form of a black monolith. However, the only time where this plot is actually followed through is in the long epilogue, where Dave Bowman chases several of those enigmatic monoliths in a psychedelic journey through outer space. Never the less the end comes, and we still don't get an answer to the nature of these mysterious objects and their undisclosed relation to mankind.

This very unsatisfying finally alludes to the absence of a solid (or conventional) plot line within the whole movie. Of course we could indulge in some free interpretation. Assuming that the whole monolith plot is a red herring, if we search for something to connect the movie together, there are several recurrent motifs, one of which, the evolution of mankind. Some examples of it are pointed out through musical cues: Kubrick's use of "Thus spoke Zarathustra" by Richard Strauss is presented whenever that recurrent motif comes up. Parallel scenes like the encounter between the ape-men and the monolith which is mimicked by the astronauts on the moon, indicating the possibility of another step in mankind's evolution. Never the less, Stanley Kubrick avoids any explicit conclusion, or opinion that could direct the viewer to what he intends to. Every time evolution is suggested, we are presented with all possible consequences that come from it, good and bad: the most obvious example of this is the dramatic third act and it's memorable character HAL, a symbol of man's achieved perfection, playing God. And yet when the computer malfunctions and the crew has to fight for their survival, Bowman has no doubt but to destroy Man's own creation. Human kind at its best and at its worst. So when the end comes up and the immortal all powerful star child is looking at you, we can't help wonder what will prevail, good or evil. I believe Kubrick's intention was to leave it up to us to make our own minds. Furthermore, this possible story line and its interpretation don't make for the whole film. In fact, there are many aspects of the movie that strike an impact on the viewer just by their visual presentation, along with other artistic choices from Kubrick that don't follow the standard use in film industry. For example, the leap in the story, that ends the "Dawn of man" act with a transition shot so fluid and perfect that surpasses any significance within the story and could be enjoyed just for its sheer beauty. There is the docking of a spaceship that lasts for 4 minutes without contributing to plot development, but mesmerizes you with its space choreography, aided by the Blue Danube waltz playing in the background. And of course there is HAL, one of the most memorable characters put on screen. He chills you out with its soft voice and glaring red eye (as a friend of mine described it), and draws your empathy when facing his own death, pleading for his life just like a human being: "… please stop, Dave. I'm a…fraid." An iconic scene in movie history!

All these aspects give a feeling that the director's intention was not only to engage in philosophical introspection about human kind's evolution and destiny, but also to present what could be call an abstract movie, aesthetically provocative, with much attention paid to form, images and sound, as much as content, breaking all ties with conventional film making. These two facts put together capture your imagination and senses as no other film in the mainstream production industry.

To sum it up, this movie is a unique visual experience, as much as a mind challenging picture!

This is truly a complex film to watch! Leone's final testament to his cinematic artistry and his most beloved project is a movie that draws inevitable comparisons to such films as The godfather and Novecento. There are many elements in common with these pictures: the chronological leaps in the story, the gangster background, a love-hate friendship, all of which are treated in a unique way that distinguishes this movie from his pears and gives it Leone's brand.

Robert DeNiro is David "Noodles" Aronson, a young hoodlum turned gangster that, as we are told in the beginning of the movie, has betrayed his friends and partners and so goes in to hiding. Several years later he returns to track down a mysterious person who found him and somehow knows all about his betrayal all those years ago. This premise stars off a series of flashbacks from Noddles that, piece by piece shed some light in to previous events and scenes from the beginning which to the viewers didn't make much sense.

Leone's storytelling is slow. It was in his previous two movies and much more so in Once upon a time in America. That in itself might detach even the more patient viewers. Truly he aimed very high with this picture, and if you take on the suggested comparison I mentioned, you have DeNiro's "Noodles" a tragic character that ends up losing everything and everyone in the end, much like Michael Corleone in The Godfather, or some of the characters from David Lean's movies for that matter! So, the epic proportions of Once upon a time have a precedent that must have been present in Leone's mind when he conceived it. Even more: Franco Arcalli, co-writer of the movie, was also co-writer, and editor of Novecento, so you can't help wondering how much of the "two men friendship" motif transpired from that Bertolucci film. But I think the similarities stop there! In Once upon a time in America the love triangle between Noodles, Maxie and Deborah come to the central fore, and the prohibition/gangster plot, despite providing long pauses in the narrative, serve as a stylistic background to the main theme. Leone was a passionate for American History, as his Western movies confirm, so it would be expected that he explored an American period (the prohibition era) with so much elements in common with the violent and mythic Wild West. Furthermore, to add to the complexity of this film he introduced yet again an unexpected turn in the story witch unfolds in the very end, and keep you guessing about what you have just seen. It was so in the end of Once upon a time in the west and in Duck you sucker, and here you get the idea (as suggested by Leone himself) that the whole movie is Noodles opium based dream, and you really never leave the Chinese theater where he is smoking his pipe in self pity for his actions! Complex? Very much. In the end you get the feeling that Leone got through his point rather more effectively in his earlier western Once upon a time in the west. But enough with the critiques! If you can get through the slow pace of the movie, and really sink in the intended suggestions in the narrative the reward will be, as the whole movie in itself, grandiose and epic. After all this is a Sergio Leone film. As a "master painter of pictures", if you don't quite grasp the meaning of the painting you can still get reward by just admiring the colors. You have the beautifully composed shots of 1930's New York through the cinematography of Tonino Delli Colli (Leone's regular collaborator); the extreme close-ups that depict character emotions like with no other director; Leone's trademark eyes close up which are reduced to a single, beautiful transition shot between the elder and the younger Noodles watching his beloved Deborah; the final showdown, which evolved into a duel of words between the two friends; and last but not the least, Ennio Morricone at the helm of the soundtrack (composed prior to the film) conveying the dream like feel to movie, both idyllic (in Deborah's theme) and cruel (in Dominic's death scene). My advice? Whach it! After all, this was Leone's final masterpiece!

I've been recently reminiscing on this great series, and saw this episode (and its first part brother) yesterday. For those who are not yet quite familiarized with it, this is a kind of series in which you have very specific main characters, Mulder and Scully, two FBI agents in charge of the most peculiar investigations that come across the FBI. Each episode of the series deals with a different subject, but every now and then (or every five or six episodes ) you have what you might call continuity episodes, witch deal with that same subject and are often called by its creators and fans as mythology episodes. They are in deed a good change of pace in the series, as most of the other episodes, for as good as they are, don't quite grab you as the mythology episodes do. One might say they are the "back bone" of the show!

This one, "731", starts where "Nisei" left of, that is when Mulder jumps on to the train with the mysterious Alien-human hybrid and the government killer on its heels. What makes this episode so interesting to me is how Chris Carter develops the story in such a way that you are getting answers _ like Scully was in deed abducted by men working for the government with a particular agenda in mind_ but in fact you are left with much more questions in the end, particularly the ambiguity between what Mulder uncovers on the train and what Scully is told in the abandoned Lepers colony. You can't help to feel lost between the plausible and logical explanation by Scully, and Mulder's instinct about the alien hybrid plot.

Rob Bowman's directing is worth mention. He had already proved himself capable to tackle the difficult subject of the mythology episodes in "End Game", witch justifies Carter's decision of putting him behind the cameras for the first X-Files movie. The way in witch the action and suspense revolves around the confinement of a train car is worthy of such masters as Alfred Hitchcock.

Watch out for X's role in this episode. That particular finale is a classic X file bit and gives Steven Williams character a much more interesting depth as Mulder's ambiguous helper than Deep throat ever had.