Reviews

Take: 1 parts Terminator 1 parts E.T. 1 parts Independence Day A dash of Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within Put all parts in a Japanese animated blender set on Matrix mode, mix thoroughly and poor into the hippest cup you can find. Sit back, kick your feet up, and enjoy your refreshing Returner.

Almost all movies take bits and pieces of other movies and mold themselves into something that appears new and different. After all, there really are no new stories to tell just different ways to tell the same story (thank you Joseph Campbell for showing me this!). Most movies are able to easily hide their influences. Some movies however, wear their influences on their sleeves. And then there is Takashi Yamazaki's Returner. A film that not only wears its influences on its sleeves, but also on its head, hat, jacket, body, pants, feet and shoes. Its as if Yamazaki took all the things that he thought were cool about all the cool movies he liked, and threw them together to make something that was his own. Although sometimes the final product is a bit rough, the stitches do show through this Frankenstein monster, all in all the final product is extremely enjoyable and an exciting thing to behold.

Takashi Kaneshiro plays Miyamoto, a hound dog of a semi-Yakuza gangster who speaks softly and carries a large gun. While out on some kind of Yakuza "business", against his arch-rival Mizoguchi, who years ago was responsible for kidnapping Miyamoto's child hood friend and selling his bodily organs, Miyamoto's life is forever changed. Milly, played by Anne Suzuki, is a time traveling Japanese cutie that materializes amidst the Yakuza shoot out. She gets wounded, gets saved by Miyamoto and thus the two are thrown together to stop an alien invasion.

Milly was sent back in time, a hundred years or so, to destroy a single alien who landed on Earth. She thinks this alien is a scout of sorts that is going to send for his planet's army to destroy the Earth. A few plot twists here and there, as well as few action scenes later, we learn the truth of this alien visitor and I can safely say the ride was quite enjoyable.

The reason this movies works is that it doesn't try to hide its influences: it shoves them down the audience's throat. And when you're ripping off movies, it's at least a good idea to rip off movies that are exciting, action packed, visually stimulating and enjoyable. So now for the checklist of rip-offing:

1. Matrix style visual effects: Lets face it folks, the Matrix movies have pretty much tainted and jaded the way we see action movies now. At least they have done so to me. I want bullet time; wire-fu, sci-fi-kung-fu and I want it in spades. Returner handles this with a bit of great creativity. Milly has a device on her wrist which when charged up allows the wearer to enter into a few moments of bullet time. This gives way to some very cool action scenes, one in particular which just so happens to be the coolest gun reloading scene ever filmed, even beating out the great one in Equilibrium

2. The time traveling warrior who goes back in time to stop a disaster which will happen in the future, a la Terminator 2.

3. Video game styled, and inspired visual effects that include a war torn earth, transforming jets, space ships and aliens - perhaps the movie that Final Fantasy should have been!

4. An alien that looks like the head pilots of ID4, but is really just a cuddly little misunderstood Muppet - in other words, E.T.

If you are looking for something original, groundbreaking, thought provoking or mature, stay far away from Returner, as a matter of fact, don't even look at the DVD cover (Neo wants his trench coat and shades back!). However, if you are looking for a movie that is fun, action packed, hip and able to keep up with multiple viewings you really can't go wrong. And after all is said and done, as long as a movie is entertaining, and makes you forget about the humdrum of daily life for two hours, then isn't it worth the price of admission? I for one would have been happy paying twice what I paid!

Super Dimensional Fortress Macross: Do You Remember Love? Ah, what a name and what a movie. This is what classic Japanese Animation is all about. Just the name itself conjures up nostalgic memories of yesterday, running home from fourth grade to catch the latest episode of Robotech, to attending my first Anime convention and realizing the true power of the unedited series as well as this incredible film which retells the story. The music, the characters, the animation and the story are the very things that attracted me to Japanese animation in the first place. And still, even after all of these years, SDFM:DYRL not only holds up, but is still a force to be reckoned with.

This is due, in no small part, to the creative talent and storytelling capabilities of Shoji Kawamori. Although his filmography may be small, it is an example of quality over quantity. Kawamori's Macross series made giant transforming robots, singing pop-idol young starlets, heroic floppy haired boys, and melodramatic drama popular to thousands of fans across the globe. Who in their right mind never dreamed of someday flying a Valkyrie, or meeting a girl as spunky and hot as Lynn Minmay or as gorgeous and smart as Misa Hayase? Or who never wished that their hair were as cool as Max's blue locks or Hikaru's tangled mop? And who never wished for the experiences and friendships shared by the Defense Force as they battled the onslaught of the Zentradi forces? Without Kawamori, none of these questions would have ever even been possible. To me, this is like trying to imagine a childhood without Star Wars.

SDFM:DYRL is at it's core, a story of an alien invasion. The Zentradi, a race of aliens created for only war are hell-bent on tracking down a lost ship, the Macross, which is the key to the universal power of Protoculture. Protoculture is the universal matter from which all things were created and it gives life to those who have it. The Zentradi track down this lost ship, which has landed on Earth. The humans of Earth learn, to a somewhat limited degree, the power of the Macross, and are able to escape with a few hundred survivors to the outer reaches of space, thus setting in motion the constant game of cat and mouse between the Zentradi and the humans. Although this story is quite basic on the surface, what really set Macross apart from the other giant-invading-robot movies/series was the investment the audience had in the characters.

The animation itself is quite beautiful, although it may seem somewhat primitive by today's digital standards. It is, however, a great example of how Japanese animation differs from its Western counterparts. While Western animation, especially concerning studios such as Disney and Warner Bros., put more energy into creating smooth animated movement, the Japanese directors and artists have always been more interested in creating insanely detailed drawings. Some Japanese directors have claimed that Japanese animation is actually more of a mix between the detailed still drawings of manga and the fluidity of traditional Western animation, thus it is an art form in and of itself being neither comic book nor cartoon. Macross is a perfect example of this ideology. Although the animation may not be extremely fluid, what we are given are vastly detailed cityscapes, landscapes and space frontiers, as well as mechanical and character designs to die for.

And how can I possibly even mention the word Macross without at least a brief mention of the music? Kentaro Haneda, who created the original music, made sure that the score and songs were as captivating as the film itself, as well as making sure every note of every song fit perfectly with what was being shown on screen. After all, with music playing such an intricate roll in the entire Macross saga, the music really needed to be top notch – and it was.

SDFM:DYRL is a classic in every sense of the word. A movie that is just as good today as it was almost 20 years ago. Some films do not live up to the memories we have of them, and as we get older some films lose their power. SDFM:DYRL on the other hand, becomes a beacon of light to remind us of the reasons we fell in love with Japanese films in the first place.

Jin-Roh is one of those few animated films that not only transcends the boundaries of it's medium, but also displays more emotion, heart and depth than most live-action dramas. It is a film that destroys any preconceived notions any audience might have about the true power of animation and how much emotion "mere" drawings can convey. Upon viewing this great film one might ask why it was even animated in the first place. It probably would have been cheaper and easier to produce as a live-action feature, but herein lays the beauty of this sublime film: it is the strength and integrity of its animation that emphasize the dark, mysterious and surreal themes of the picture.

Jin-Roh was written by legendary Japanese director/writer/producer/animator Mamoru Oshii and directed by the freshman Hiroyuki Okiura. However, make no mistake about it, Jin-Roh looks, feels and IS an Oshii film, even having its gorgeous score written by long time Oshii partner Kenji Kawai. Jin-Roh explores the themes often touched upon by Oshii. Themes of human beings becoming detached alienated and threatened by the very technologies and societies they themselves have created.

Jin-Roh is, quite loosely, based upon the childhood story of Little Red Riding hood. It is set in an alternate reality where after WWII, Japan is under complete Martial Law becoming little more than a police-society upset by constant social unrest, political terrorism, and near civil war. The government set up the ultimate police force, the Wolf Brigade to combat the thousands of citizens fighting for economic stability, social justice and their identity as a nation ravaged by warfare. The revolutionaries have a special "unit" of terrorists that resemble Little Red Riding Hood. These girls dressed in red cloaks deliver baskets, baskets full of bombs, to their evil wolf-like Grandmother, the Wolf Brigade.

Although this story could have easily set itself up to be a military action-thriller, what transpires is nothing short of a harsh, tragic love story between one of the "hoods" and the very "wolf" she so desperately wants to kill. With that being said, Jin-Roh is, with out doubt, one of the most depressing journeys into the psyche of a soldier blinded by his idealistic, oppressive leaders, and a social revolutionist numb to life after years of civil and social unrest.

While watching live-action films it is easy to forget about all the craftsmanship that went into creating the final picture: it easier to view the film as an entity within itself. This is not the case with well-crafted animation. The viewer is constantly aware of the vast amounts of detail, heart and soul that were poured into each and every frame. Animation should be regarded as the pan-ultimate art form. Animated features are the only form of art to incorporate all of the major media: Film, acting, painting, writing and music. And Jin-Roh is a work of fine art when it comes to all of these aspects. The animation is smooth and natural, almost having a roto-scoped feel to it, the music is as moody, beautiful and moving as any soundtrack ever recorded, the director and layout artists worked together to craft each shot with the utmost care, and the script and it's delivery are near flawless.

If there is anyone out there who doubts the emotional power of mature, adult animation, then I challenge you to view Jin-Roh and not walk away marked by its brilliance. Once again Oshii has proved that animation, when done correctly, is not only beautiful, but it can also strengthen an already strong story and theme.

To truly appreciate Tsui Hark's film Zu: Warriors of the Magic Mountain, one must approach the film from a total aesthetic view. The film is really a site to behold, moves at an unbelievably fast pace, and employs some of the zaniest special effects and action sequences ever captured on film. Zu Warriors is also pure Hark: no other director could have crammed 3000 years of Chinese mythology into an 98-minute mini-epic with as much visceral stimuli, humor, over the top action and nuttiness as Hark did. And, only Tsui Hark could make such a convoluted mess of a narrative so much pure fun to behold.

Zu Warriors is the ultimate Martial Arts fantasy. However, Hark uses this fantasy backdrop for politically charged themes and metaphors. The film starts with two rival soldiers, Ti Ming who fights for the "blue army" and East Zu Soldier who fights for the "orange army", trying to escape (quite comically I might add) the absurdities of war. Ti Ming (Yuen Biao) is court marshaled for agreeing with two of his own generals (one wanted to attack by land, the other by sea. They can't both be right, and since Ti Ming agreed with both, he must be wrong) and East Zu Soldier (Samo Hung) is just on the run from the war. They meet up and are soon ambushed by the "green army", the "yellow army" and the "red army". At this point Biao's character declares "what a colorful war this is!" Right before the attack, Ti Ming and EZS share a moment where they discover they were practically neighbors separated only by a river and the color of their uniforms.

All of this takes place in the first 10 minutes of film! Hark clearly shows his hate of war, the ineptitude of the ruling officials, and how underneath petty differences both sides of the battlefield are the ultimately the same and the soldiers really don't want to fight. At this point Ti Ming and EZS decide to try and play dead, but soon discover that over half of the fallen soldiers are also playing dead! They both try to escape but EZS is captured while Ti Ming falls from a top a high cliff and lands in a valley of the Magical Mountains. Here Hark clearly moves into another common theme of his: alienation in one's own country. Although Ti Ming is still in his own world, he has fallen into a place where he feels like a fish out of water, a common narrative thread and real life struggle of those living in Hong Kong – they are Chinese but not really part of China, alienated from their own nationality.

The film now shifts gears into the utter fantastic. Once within the shadows of the Magic Mountains, Ti Ming meets two strong and crazy warrior monks and a master swordsman who controls two magical flying swords. Ti Ming falls out of a war, and into the ultimate war. He soon discovers that the wars on his plane of reality are fought because of the ultimate battle between good and evil that is constantly going on in the dangerous peaks, valleys, temples and shrines of the Magic Mountains. Here Samo Hung turns up again but this time he is White Brows, a priest who fights evil with his animated facial hair and is the embodiment of ultimate good who is battling the Blood Demon, a giant red monstrosity representing not only the ultimate evil, but red China itself.

Although the film is most definitely a wild fantasy, Hark continues to bombard his audience with allegory of his social-political beliefs. During the next hour the viewer is treated to some of the most imaginative visual film-making ever produced. Hark shows giant stone elephants used as projectiles, ghostly figures who attack from giant clay jars, black cloaked demons who multiply and attack with flags, monks fighting with giant flying cymbals, animated skulls, lightening bolts from finger tips, flying swordsmen, a beautiful mountain top shrine inhabited by beautiful female priestesses led by The Countess (the always good looking Brigitte Lin) and a host of other such amazing sights. It is a good thing that the film is so aesthetically pleasing, because ultimately this is really the only level the film truly works on. When it comes to a well-structured plot without the need for the audience to make HUGE leaps in continuity or logic, Zu Warriors unfortunately falls flat. It is just too scatter brained and Hark tried to cram too much into such a short running time.

Although the narrative and characters may be lost and utterly convoluted, what stands out are Hark's message and his energy. The pure kinetic force of Zu Warriors can really be felt oozing from the screen. This is the type of energy typically found in a young director, doing new things, and challenging the conventions and institutions of the day. However, Hark unlike many directors, continued to channel this energy throughout the majority of his career. Zu Warriors may be a narrative disaster but what it lacks in cohesiveness, it more than makes up for in pure excitement and entertainment. ZU Warriors not only launched the entire fantasy martial arts genre (which by the way directly influenced Sam Raimi to make Evil Dead and John Carpenter's Big Trouble in Little China) but it launched the career of one of the worlds most creative directors who continues to shape the landscape of genre film-making even today. And for this we should all be eternally grateful.

Watching Time and Tide is akin to being in a taxicab with a driver, who knows what his final destination is but has no idea how to get there, drives around really fast and somehow makes it to the end--this is not to be said as an insult, but a testament to his skill. Hark works with energy and a sense of recklessness and brevity. He only shows what needs to be shown for the smallest amount of time needed to register with the viewer so that even the dramatic scenes have a kinetic energy.

I would try to give a quick synopsis of the narrative, but I lack both the PH.D in Ludicrous and the necessary drugs to do so without confusion. I have only watched the film a dozen times or so and yet there are still moments where I am puzzled as to the what's and why's of the narrative. There are double crosses, triple crosses, Hispanic speaking Chinese gangs, two pregnant woman, 2 would-be assassin/bodyguards/dead-beat dads to be, a theme of brotherhood and fatherhood and the most elaborate action set piece ever devised. While the plot may be overly convoluted, the themes are strong and add an emotional realism often lacking in action films.

The words "realism" and "Tsui Hark" are not often spoken together, but in Time and Tide he creates a realistic tapestry within to work his hard-boiled action fantasy. An emotional connection between the audience and the characters on screen is what separates the lasting impressions from the fleeting memories of a good movie. Hark gives the two male leads in Time and Tide a purpose for what they are doing; the purpose may be far-fetched, but there is a rhyme for the reason, which elevates the action to an emotional level.

The theme of brotherhood spanning two sides of the law is not an uncommon one for Hong Kong cinema. However, Hark decided to also examine the new trends of young parenthood and children born out of wedlock. This issue was at the time a sort of taboo subject in Hong Kong, especially in an action oriented genre film. But what it does here is give the characters an anchor that grounds them firmly in reality. Viewers can relate to a young father who would do anything for his future children. The worry, excitement, anticipation, and fears of the main characters come into play and really do dictate how the two male leads react to the given situations.

In Tyler's case, he wants to do the right thing and support his child and Ah Jo even if only financially. He works hard to earn extra cash and sneaks to Ah Jo's house to slide the money under her door—he does this because she wants nothing more to do with him but he still feels responsible. What he doesn't know is that nine times out of ten her dog gets to the money before she arrives home and rips it to shreds. Tyler continues to do everything he can to be there for Ah Jo even taking a dangerous job to earn money for their future.

So Hark has established that both the main characters, although not model citizens, are decent human beings who want redemption from their pasts and strive for a brighter future for themselves, their children and loved ones. With this said though, do the ends justify the means? For all their good intentions to make things right, a lot of people end up getting hurt. However, this is a typical kind of spiritual redemption for Honk Kong action heroes—redemption through blood and bullets, and heroic bloodshed.

Before the action starts rolling, Hark gives his characters an anchor with which to ground themselves in reality. The sole purpose of this is so that the audience can relate on an emotional level to the characters and their plights. But, what Hark does when the water starts boiling is firmly rip the anchor away and send the two heroes through a gauntlet of flying bullets, fists, chases and the most dangerous baby delivery ever put on screen.

Imagine this: Many large apartment buildings, dozens of stories tall, all connected with a sort of center court yard and doors and hallways intertwined like an urban maze. Now imagine our heroes being chased through this labyrinth by ruthless Triad hit men stopping at nothing to see them dead. Jack and Tyler sprint though out the complex of destruction, dodging bullets and fists, repelling down the side of the buildings, jumping from awning to awning, stopping only to trade fisticuffs with rival thugs or to pick up a much needed clip of ammunition.

Hark's heroes are not interchangeable, they do not occupy a scene only to be a human punching bag ready to be whisked away at a moments notice by a wire harness. No, Hark's heroes, although put in fantastic situations, occupy a realm of emotional realism. He gives them a sense of humor, passions, personalities and most of the time an enormous amount of skill to kick ass. It is this very fact that separates a Tsui Hark film from the multitude of other well-directed action films. Time and Tide occupies a unique place in the action-cinema genre: not only does it elevate the action and aesthetic value of the genre, but it also adds an emotional depth often lacking from like-minded films.

Time and Tide works on two levels, as a dramatic film and as an action film, both benefiting from each other. The action becomes more intense because the audience cares for the film's characters, and at the same time the drama is more emotional because the audience wants the characters to succeed in their redemption. Time and Tide is not only one of Tsui Hark's best films, it is also one of the best examples of the entire action genre and should not be missed by anyone.

I could sit here and start this review off any number of ways to make this film sound ultra important. I could say, once in a great while a film comes along, blah, blah. Or, Only a select few films ever have reached this, blah, blah. Or I could say, if you see one movie this year, blah, blah. You know the drill. These are the opening sentences the big-boy critics use when they really want you to see a flick and when they want a particular review to really stand out. Well, films that deserve this kind of "special" praise really do only come around once in a great while. Unbelievably, I have seen two in only six months time. The first was what I like to call the first real 21st Century film, and that was Oldboy. And the second film of this status also comes from Korea, believe it or not, and it is Bittersweet Life.

Bittersweet Life is probably one of the most simple, most streamlined modern films I have ever seen. It is lean, mean, and like its lead male, a damn ruthless fighting machine. The film beats along with its Raymond Chandler-like screenplay with all the jazz and style of early 90's John Woo and with the energy and themes of Quentin Tarantino's grind house 70's. Life plays with your emotions, making you care for the bad-guy hero even though he is a vicious killer, and causes one to release tension through laughter when the blood starts gushing like a dozen ruptured fire hoses. Wholesale death, blood by the gallons, broken bones and multiple beatings with humongous pipe-wrenches, two-by-fours, and lead pipes are on order, right after a heaping dish of innocent love and a guy trying for once to do the right thing.

The plot, well you see, it's like this: you can see everything coming a mile away, the movie plays it straight, and follows the exact path you know it will and the exact path you hope it will. There are no twist endings, no complicated triple crosses, no hidden motives for the characters. Everything on screen happens the way you see it, and everything thing ends exactly the way you picture it. And this is a good thing. The film is so on track that it doesn't need a twist or a swerve to make you pay attention. It starts at A, ends at E, and hits B, C and D on the way there. Life is so steeped in its genre tropes of noir character and themes that the ending is know to all of us before it even starts. However, it's the journey that matters, and I'll be damned if you can find a better-looking, more brutally violent journey anywhere.

As much as I try to analyze the film, nothing comes to mind. And this is the purest of all compliments. The film is as shallow as the pools of blood splattered in the hallways, alleyways and run down exteriors of the sets. Often times a director feels the need to bog a simple story down with twists, and a deeper meaning to hide the fact that they are afraid to just let things happen because they need to happen. Bittersweet Life is not one of these films. It exists with its soul laid bare for all to see, and when the carnage is complete, you thank the film for being honest with itself. As the final credits roll you might find yourself asking, "Is that it?" Yes, that is it—cinematic perfection. It is all it needs to be: pure and simple, boisterous and calm, bloody and drenched in gore and an honest movie with nothing to hide.

--genrebusters