Reviews

what a manic, scattered, intuitive collage this film is. Wong deserves the chutzpah award for taking a relatively simple idea (although how simple is love? not very) and stewing it in dazzling images. The women, all love interests of Tony Leung, swirl around like in a dream. As a writer myself, I think Wong captures the writers mind so perfectly. There's constant conflict in a writer's mind: between reality and the ideal world you constantly envision and refine, between personal conviction and the need to be understood and loved by others. And, most drawn out in 2046, how we deal with out objects of desire. Wong uses women, Leung's objects of desire, to project every wish, desire, hope, and fear onto. Wong's women are goddesses, ghosts, muses, partners, targets, prizes. Their emotional license seems to ripple from Leung's pen, and his austere face. And of course, the visuals are simply stunning and sumptuous; and stark, echoing the claustrophobic loneliness and desperation of the characters. Wonderful, Alive movie.

I know I'm not alone in my fascination of Las Vegas casino "culture." I've only been there once, but I was completely awestruck by the delicious, glowing obscenity of it all (mind you I'm a jaded New Yorker, not some babe in the woods). "Casino" only adds to the fantasy. The irony is that while Vegas is seen as a separate universe where vice is as commonplace as streetlights, it's probably the only HONEST city in the world. Every other city is as full of vice and corruption, but Vegas is the only place that admits that these things are at the core of our lovely civilization. Scorsese has many tools at his disposal; here he uses his scalpel and Bedazzler above all else. The one thing that really bugged me (other than the usual Italian-American stereotypes, but what are you gonna do) is the OVER-use of voice-over. Voice-over is pretty annoying to begin with, but here it's just way too much. It almost sucks the life out of the movie (especially when coupled with Scorsese's snappy montage style). Visually it's quite breathtaking, and the performances are top-notch, especially from Sharon Stone, who emits a raw energy not common among today's leading ladies.

Matthew Barney's "Cremaster" series of 5 feature-length videos are an exploration of this artist's various interests. He's basically interested in everything, and manages to squeeze everything into this series. "Cremaster 3" is the centerpiece, wherein architecture, Freemason ritual, and folklore (Irish, Irish-American, American) take center stage. Barney offers little insight into his interests, simply presents them, overlaps them, as if he just made a list of stuff he likes and then visualized them. Luckily, his visual sense is utterly dazzling and eloquent. As a director, he is undoubtedly indebted to Kubrick and Hal Ashby. The images are elegant but pungent, finely polished but visceral and even gory in parts. The tone of the video, however, is deceitful (for lack of a less harsh word), suggesting a story or plot that doesn't really exist, or is so buried in the visual splendor as to be insignificant. It could be seen as a puzzle, but, in Barney's own words (according to the DVD commentary of "The Order" segment of "3"), it is merely a series of illustrations of ideas that have already been well drawn out (ie. Freemason ritual). Still it's worth watching, and listening to as well. Jonathan Bepler's score is truly gorgeous, reminiscent of Danny Elfman but even more haunting.

As far as "message" movies go, "A Patch of Blue" is blessed with some great talents that overcome the predictable, over-the-top story. The photography is quite gorgeous, and the cast is pretty amazing. The revelation of this movie is Elizabeth Hartman, in her very first film role. As a blind girl, she's totally convincing. Her wonderful heart will break yours. She brings an innocence that never descends into childishness (a la Emily Watson in "Breaking The Waves"). The scene where she's alone in the apartment is chillingly real. The sense of entrapment she expresses is understandable on every level. Poitier's performance is one of his best, showing tenderness but never getting too melodramatic. Just as Hartman never acts like a child, Poitier never treats her like one. Shelley Winters is fearlessly nasty and evil as Hartman's mom. She truly is a monster. This is a great film.

If "Naked Lunch," the novel by William S. Burroughs, represents ultimate literary freedom (it would make the Marquis de Sade blush), David Cronenberg's "Naked Lunch" is a violent reaction to it. Freedom, not the book. The book is a beautiful work of art that exists outside the invented notions of law, religion, and reticence, just as much as it exists separate from past, present, or future. Any sense of guilt or shame experienced while reading the book is purely in the reader's mind, not on the page.

The movie is a different story. Since Burroughs wrote the book with an, er, "enhanced" mind, I figured I'd read it under the same conditions. So, maybe the plot in the movie is somewhere in the book, I just don't recall it. Anywho, the movie plot is a great springboard into the disparate shapes and pea soup- colored haze known as "Interzone." Cronenberg clearly is sharing his own experience of reading the book, mixing it with his knowledge of Beat history (including the world of Paul Bowles, the American ex-pat, living in Morocco, not an intimate part of the Beat generation) and his personal issues regarding sexuality. While Burroughs and his colleagues embraced homosexuality without much hesitation, Cronenberg isn't quite as comfortable with it, and makes it clear in his film. Not that Rev. Falwell or his ilk are putting it on their top 10 lists next to certain Mel Gibson or Charlton Heston projects. The movie is still sexy and seductive, mostly thanks to Weller, Davis, and, as always, the reliable Mr. Sands.

If De Vito and/or Pfeiffer were in every scene in this movie I probably would tack on at least one additional star. Their characters, Penguin and Catwoman, are developed so well they elevate the film from the rather dubious crop of comic book that have been made. Burton's direction and visual flare, and Elfman's genius score are a perfect pair yet again. It's a huge improvement over the first "Batman," which was low on story and high on Jack Nicholson's scene-chewing. It's a hell of a lot spookier and darker than its predecessor, making it more faithful to its comic book source. If the movie were just overall better, De Vito's Penguin would go down as movie history's wickedest villains (he's like a Charles Manson with lame wings), and Pfeiffer's Catwoman would be among the silver screen's greatest female roles. The uneven script stifles the flow of the movie, and I'm sure the studio tinkered with Burton's singular vision with its need for blockbuster box office and perpetual tie-in merchandising.

First off, "2001: A Space Odyssey" is the single greatest visual experience ever committed to film. If you choose to ignore whatever philosophical or thematic issues are raised, there is enough ocular splendor to make it worth watching.

Secondly, those issues are presented in such a way as to make you a participant of the film, not just an observer, making the experience all the more enriching. It's fitting that Kubrick chose to fill the sci-fi tableaux with classical music. He has the artistry of a symphonic conductor, and time and human civilization seem to dangle from his conductor's wand. The only criticism I can come up with is the lack of specific humanity. The movie's grand themes explore the essence of the universe and the nature of the human being, the universe's greatest invention. "The Power Of Myth," an interview of Joseph Campbell by Bill Moyers, tackles the same themes and is just as stirring, but it consists almost entirely of to old dudes yapping in a living room.

This well-made, all-star movie seems to serve as a template for how this type of situation SHOULD turn out, but probably rarely does, then or now. As a result, the movie is little more than long PSA or preachy after-school special with better actors. Since its intentions are good, it deserves some credit. The script almost undermines the message with its almost excruciating tip-toey-ness. The movie's politeness makes it dry and lifeless. Poitier, Tracy, Hepburn, and Sanford do their best to bring depth to their characters. The only sore thumb in the cast is Houghton, exuding an odd brand of ignorance that has never been investigated, on screen or off. This type of ignorance, excuse my cynicism, is often referred to as liberalism. Plus, Houghton and Poitier have zero chemistry. Spike Lee's "Jungle Fever" offers a more realistic and far more urban view of the subject. Like "Dinner" it has its flaws too, but both films should provide interesting perspectives when seen together.

Yu does a great job presenting and condensing the work of "outsider artist" Henry Darger. His life, as well as his work, are fascinating enough to make a movie, and Yu does this intelligently, without sensationalizing or sentimentalizing her subject. Darger does come off as a sort of icon of the eccentric loner (is there another kind??), and the discovery of his work is likened, in tone, to the discovery of Tutankhamen's treasury. But Darger's art and writings are extraordinary for any artist, and are worthy of exultation. This movie is a great introduction to Darger's "realm." There are several books on his exhaustive and radiant oeuvre, and originals of his work can be found in several museums and galleries, particularly The American Folk Art Museum and Gallerie St. Etienne, both in New York City. He's worth Google-ing too.

Every artist hopes to do what Guiseppe Tornatore did by making "Cinema Paradiso." I'm a young writer, and watching this film always fills me with the resolve to create a singular masterpiece that will unite every sensibility and belief I wish to espouse into a timeless whole: memories, comforts, desires, ideals. From the first frame it's clear that "Cinema Paradiso" is a deeply personal labor of love, and it deserves a spot on the cinematic landscape next to films like "Gone With The Wind," "Citizen Kane," "To Kill A Mockingbird," "8 1/ 2," and "Schindler's List." This film glows with passion and heart and is universally romantic (read: heterosexual men will be touched too, I think). It is a fitting tribute to a medium able to unify and diversify, repel and educate, entertain and enlighten. The final scenes are as moving and memorable as anything I've experienced, and that includes real events in my own life.

This is Pasolini's primary anti-bourgeoisie film and is sort of a complementary companion of Luis Bunuel's "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie." While Bunuel's film attacks the European post-war middle class (slightly different from America's middle class, though just as apathetic and selfish) with mockery, humiliation, and eventually destruction, Pasolini takes a more soulful route, revealing the hidden desires of a class stifled by social dogma and propriety. Rather than turn them into effigy, he allows them to have epiphanies, realizing their inner hollowness, and taking different paths to self-fulfillment. "Teorema" means "theorem," and in this case, the mysterious, beautiful stranger embodied by Terrence Stamp offers proof of a certain Italian bourgeois family's misgivings. Pasolini here offers a lucid statement, less political than Bunuel, but just as poetic. His execution, however, is dry and hokey, as Stamp encounters each family member almost mathematically. While the actors provide genuine emotion (particuarly in facial expressions, which Pasolini, in his entire body of work, has shown overwhelming appreciation for), the structure of the film is so tight that he almost sucks the life right out of his message. It's a curious film, though, not completely lacking in entertainment value. In a way, it plays out like a sonnet or other tightly structured poem type. Recommended is "Porcile," made by Pasolini, with similar themes, but presented more organically.

What a fun movie!! So campy, so snappy, yet so... human. Charles Busch is delightful, as a writer and actor, not to mention an expert lip-sync-er. Busch seems to channel every golden screen diva from Garland to Garbo, even as recent as Faye Dunaway playing Joan Crawford. The movie is full of witty one- liners, pop culture references, and juicy double entendres. The actors all eat up this killer material, and Rucker's direction makes the most of an apparently limited budget. But that hardly matters when there's a true love of the medium by all involved, which is the case with "Die Mommie Die!" Too bad Busch doesn't write for "Will & Grace" nowadays. But I'm sure he has much better things to do.

Todd Haynes is the most avant-garde American filmmaker working today (yes, that includes Mr. Gallo, and, yes, that also includes Mr. Van Sant, who comes close to Haynes). "Avant-garde," by the way, is a good thing. He is also the most daring, tackling traditional genres without fear. "Far From Heaven" is Hayne's homage to the syrupy melodramas of the '50's, particularly those of Douglas Sirk, director of "Magnificent Obsession," "All That Heaven Allows," and "Imitation of Life," among others. As much as he pays tribute to these pulp romances, he also sets out to improve them, using better actors, advanced photographic technology, and, most importantly, subject matter considered off- limits back then. Homosexuality, race, and feminism are investigated deftly here. There's a fair amount of kitsch as well, which gives the film an odd slant. The balance is handled well by Haynes, though, enough to save it from being impenetrable. Julianne Moore is magnificent, as is Patricia Clarkson in a tiny role, and Viola Davis in an even tinier role. Dennis Quaid is completely believable. Worth watching at least once.

This amazing film manages to pay homage to many film classics (ie. "Touch of Evil," "Sunset Boulevard," "Vertigo," "Barton Fink," "The Player," "Perfect Blue") and still be a jaw-dropping piece of cinematic originality. "Mulholland Dr.," also inspired by pulp fiction (the genre, not the movie), turns the missing girl/ mistaken identity format around-about, in-and-out. Lynch's greatest strength has been his audacious style, a dazzling combination of Franz Kafka and Frank Capra, Dario Argento and "Happy Days." This film presents Hollywood as an obscene nightmare covered in a pink patina of promise. Lynch's trademark sub- bass groans loom beneath '50's bubblegum pop hits. Pretty girls in bouffants coo lipstick lullabies while doped-up divas hallucinate and harangue hipster gangsters. In Lynch's La La Land, names are incidental, faces are interchangeable, nothing is real. Only one character, Adam Kesher, even attempts to return to reality with his (ultimately) false promise: "I'm Going Home."

I can't think of any other film that attacks organized religion with such malice, as well as eloquence, as "Viridiana." The events in the movie are as mythically shocking as anything in the Bible. Bunuel's attitudes towards the church are bitter, brutal, cynical and cathartic, in other words, not terribly complex. But Bunuel, who could easily rank in (at least) the top 10 of a "Greatest Filmmakers of all Time" list, undercuts this with a genius ability to tell a story, and a gorgeous visual style on the level of Welles and Lang.

If guilt and shame are the heart of the Catholic Church, than hypocrisy must be its lungs. While the ultimate goal of this (still) political institution is power, secrets, cover-ups, and denial are its most effective weapons in achieving this goal. These weapons, over the centuries, have kept the Church alive and pushed the message of Jesus further out of reach. The result is a society, as in the one in "Viridiana," where treachery is delicately veiled in "piety." Bunuel conveys this message as only the greatest poets do.

This is the best horror movie ever made for several reasons. While the story is terrifying and grizzly, Demme never lets it become schlocky or sensational. He plays is straight, so to speak, never letting the plot become secondary. Perhaps a more... ambitious, director would have added more creepy atmosphere (like David Fincher does with "Se7en"), but Demme smartly keeps it real, which makes it all the more terrifying. Nothing that happens in this movie couldn't happen in real life (and it does happen). This approach also harnesses the lead performers. He never lets Foster get too melodramatic, and never lets Hopkins become a flat Halloween mask. As frightening as the film is, there is a moral core throughout that neither hides completely nor brow-beats you. I have a bunch of videos and DVD's, but when almost any friend comes over and looks them over, they always want to watch "Silence of the Lambs." It's uncanny.

When I first saw this movie in the theater, I felt the way I imagine people must've felt when "The Wizard of Oz" premiered in 1939. Or when Gregory Peck first appeared on screen in "To Kill A Mockingbird" in 1962. Or the first appearance of Hannibal Lector in "The Silence of The Lambs" in 1991. The incomparable Frances McDormand's performance as Margie is the stuff of film lore. She hits every note right. Insanely funny but never really clown-like. But also benevolent and tough, without doing a personality 180. It's legendary.

Everything else about "Fargo" is utter cinematic perfection. No filmmakers on Earth can tell a story like the Coens. It's the perfect mix of dark humor, creepy atmosphere, and genuine humanity. It unfolds flawlessly. Every artistic tool in the Brothers' box is perfectly utilized. It's their magnum opus. Highly recommended!

If I could find any flaw in this movie, that would make me kind of a jerk, you know?

"Wonder Boys" is a sharp, original comedy for grown-ups. It is a great analysis of the different stages of life, among people who share the same passions. Douglas' character is middle aged and a bit stuck and dissatisfied, Holmes' character is young and wide-eyed and full of ambition. Maguire, who gives such a great, enigmatic performance as James Leer, is gifted but troubled. He possesses most of the film's quirks, as does Downey, Jr., who seems like something out of Leer's imagination of who he wants to be. These two have such great chemistry!! It's rare that a movie like this is made at all, let alone in Hollywood, with major stars, but I'm glad they did make it. I think "gem" is the perfect word to use to describe this movie.

"Rouge" is part of a trilogy, but very much stands on its own. It isn't a sequel of any sort. The very end, which I won't divulge, ties the three films together, but not seeing the other two doesn't make it too confusing.

This film amazes me because it is so spare, so subtle and simple, but is as effective, emotionally and intellectually, as any big-budget spectacle or all-star melodrama. Kieslowski here investigates the phenomena of chance and destiny. Both themes are loosely woven together in the story. The film is very much a puzzle, but the message is pretty straightforward: Everything happens for a reason. Love is in all of our destinies as long as we open ourselves to it. The title, "Red" refers to the French flag, where red represents "fraternity," or brotherhood. The color dominates the visuals of the movie. I tend to think of it as representing love or passion, or the blood of life. It's great when a film allows the freedom to do that ;)

What a genius Almodovar is! Who else could take such esoteric material and make it not only enjoyable, but relatable. It takes a lot of chutzpah for a male director to swan dive into the gulf of womanhood (I can't believe I just wrote that) and emerge with such truth, HUMAN truth. While the characters of this film seem to represent certain female archetypes, they still flow organically through the ingenious plot. Almodovar shows us that any taboo subject can be tackled without it being exploited when it is done with a compassionate heart. The sheer WARMTH of this movie is what makes it a stunning success. The performances in this film are unforgettable. Cecilia Roth is so dazzling and real, and heartbreaking. But only a genius like Almodovar can break our hearts but still give us hope.

Every element of this film is flawless. How many movies can be both utterly entertaining and intellectually stimulating at the same time? I guess Warren Beatty, as producer, deserves the most credit for assembling such a wonderful creative team. The film's "look," harnessed by Arthur Penn, is unforgettable. The pace of the film is breathtaking. The actors are convincing and sympathetic, but not melodramatic. The themes of the film (obsession with celebrity, bonds of love, rebellion, "Robin Hood") are astutely investigated but never cloud the enjoyment of watching it. It's funny, shocking, sad, frightening, sexy, debatable. It's perfect!!