Friday, November 27, 2009
Zombieland
The Harmonium in my Memory
Directed by Young-jae Lee
Young-jae Lee's "The Harmonium in my Memory" is a sweetly nostalgic but deceptively astute story of first love that does absolutely everything right from start to finish.
Newly graduated Kang Soo ha leaves Seoul to take up a post as an elementary and middle school teacher in a remote Korean village. Upon his arrival he finds the school in disaray thanks in large part to his lackluster fellow teachers, but it's not all bad news for Soo ha since the other teacher joining the school is the beautiful Min-hie, who Soo ha immediately develops an interest in. An invisible love triangle of sorts is formed when Soo ha becomes the object of his student Hongyeon's infatuation.
"The Harmonium in my Memory" is a far, far better picture than it seems to have any right to be, imbued with an intelligence and nuance that is rare if not almost completely absent from such films. Although it's drawn comparison's mostly to Zhang Yimou's "The Road Home" due to obvious parrallels in the storylines of both films, I found that Young-jae Lee's film reminded me most of Lasse Hallstrom's "My Life as a Dog" due to its similarly deft understanding of the minds of both adults and children. Young-jae Lee's film is further notable in its willingnes to wade into some rather dicey subject matter and actually explore a possible romance between Soo Ha and Hongyeon without making it seem vulgar or exploitative. The effortless way Young-jae Lee pulls it all off is probably not fully appreciated by everyone who has sees "The Harmonium in my Memory," but it's a credit to Lee that he takes probably the most difficult way out in "The Harmonium in my Memory" and still makes it work. Both Hongyeon and Soo Ha mature in believable yet very different ways throughout the film, Hongyeon assuming a greater measure of femine maturity and Soo Ha coming to terms with the limitations and disappointments of life, even for someone like him, and the growth of both characters makes the film's ultimate denouement seem completely logical.
Young-jae Lee's relative absence from the big screen since the release of "The Harmonium in my Memory" is a shame considering how good this offering is and I sincreley hope to see more from the director in the future.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
The Game
Directed by David Fincher
David Fincher's puzzling (to say the least) film "The Game" may not go down as one of his greatest works but it's still fairly enjoyable despite its laughably convoluted plot.
Michael Douglas stars as Nicholas Van Orton, a fantastically wealthy investment banker whose crumbling personal life has left him a rigid, lonely and unpleasant character. Nicholas' brother Conrad (Sean Penn) surprises him on his birthday with a gift certificate from a company know as Consumer Recreation Services which promises Nicholas a thrilling live action game. When the game begins, however, Nicholas is thrown into a deadly game of manipulation that quickly spins out of control and throws his ordered life into turmoil.
The strongest attribute of Fincher's film is that it is, regardless of how one might feel about its ludicrous plot, immediately engaging. It's myriad twists and turns are amusing and keep the viewer guessing until the end but by the film's final act, I'd felt like I'd been jerked around too much to care anymore. The film reminded me of Christopher Nolan's "The Prestige" insofar as both films are fairly minor works by talented directors and they both feature scripts so ridiculous that even a complete suspension of belief is probably insufficient to fully enjoy them. I will say that a movie with so hokey a plot would have most likely been an epic stinker had it been helmed by a lesser talent and Fincher does a pretty good job in keeping "The Game" afloat despite its flaws. The film is further saved from itself by its great artistic direction and cinematography which cast San Francisco as both sleek and somber, giving the film a moody, ominous feel that fits it well. As far as the acting goes, it's a mix of good and bad in my book. Michael Douglas, one of Hollywood's most underrated actors (yes, I do believe that) is fantastic as the cold and bitter Van Orton playing alongside one of Hollywood's most overrated actors, Sean Penn, who graces us with his usual histrionics.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Face/Off
Inju
Directed by Barbet Schroeder
What the heck has happened to Barbet Schroeder? It's hard to believe the same director who gave us "Koko" and "Reversal of Fortune" is responsible for this lazy and uninspired stinker.
Benoît Maginal stars as Alex Fayard, a french academic and author who is the world's foremost expert on a reclusive, mysterious Japanese author named Shundei Oe who, despite selling millions of copies of his novels, has never been seen in public. Fayard takes off for Kyoto to promote his newest book but is immediately drawn into a web of deceit and manipulation with Oe at its center. The twists pile up (like a heap of dung, I must say) as Fayard loses himself in Oe's sordid world.
Schroeder's film is really an A to Z essay in failure. From bad acting to credibility gaps the size of the Grand Canyon in Jean Armand Bougrelle's script, there's plenty of blame to go around for this mess. The film is poorly paced and poorly plotted as well, its flacidness punctuated here and there by odd detours into seemingly random sado-mosochistic behavior by its characters. The Japanese actors, bless their hearts, are made to recite an uncomfortably large amount of french dialogue that was obviously memorized word for word beforehand, leading to the odd but often seen phenomenon of characters who have flawless grammar but unbelievably thick accents in a foreign language. Maginal, a talented actor in his own right, seems to have convinced himself of the nobility of his efforts and really does give it a go, but his earnestness clashes violently with the flat delivery of co-stars Lika Minamota and Shinpei Asanuma. The film's cinematography saves it from complete ignominity, as it mercilessly bestows an air of subdued class to an otherwise risible affair.
The Chinese Botanist's Daughters
Directed by Dai Sijie
The fact that Dijie Sai's paper thin "The Chinese Botanist's Daughters" won not one but TWO awards at the 2006 Montreal World Film Festival says a whole lot about the sorry quality of that event. I can only hope that such a weak offering from an otherwise talented filmmaker would be coldly received at a more legitimate film festival (say, *cringe* the TIFF?)
Myléne Jampinoi plays Min Li, a young student who is sent to study under a famed botanist during a six month internship. The sour welcome offered to her by the coarse and moody botanist is mitigated by the warmth of his daughter Cheng An. Min Li and Cheng An quickly strike up a warm friendship that (in seemingly no time at all) turns into a rapturous romance. Not wanting to part ways at the end of Min Li's internship, the two come up with a thoroughly half baked plan to remain together.
Dai Sijie's previous effort, "Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress," a thoughtful story about a pair of boys sent to rural China for "re-education" during Mao's rule, was a promising effort that married lush production values with a sober handling of the hardships faced by Chinese citizens during communist rule. "The Chinese Botanist's Daughters'" however, is a thinly scripted and at times lazy story that has at its core a romance that lacks any authenticity. The romantic relationship between Min Li and Cheng An is barely explained and they seem to fall into each other's arms almost the minute Min Li arrives in town. Their subsqequent scheme to stay together is both suspiciously naive and seems to have been engineered by writer Nadine Perront purposefully to set up a b it of faux drama that would segway easily to a tragic denouement.
As lacking as this film is in anything related to serious content, it's still beautiful to look at and if your eyes just need a quick vacation you could do worse than letting them feast on the lush scenery on display in Dai Sijie's film.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Gamorrah
Matteo Garrone adaptation of Roberto Saviano's heralded investigation of Naples' infamous criminal organization is an unflinching, authentic look at the corrosive criminal underbelly of the city and its tragic impact on the lives of its citizens.
"Gamorrah" follows five different narrative threads, none of them directly related to one another but all nonetheless linked in some way to the city's criminal syndicate. Most of the action takes place in a crumbling housing block in the city's slums, home to a number of the organizations foot soldiers.
Although Garrone's "Gamorrah" is not, as the Boston Herald boldly claimed, the "greatest gangster film of all time" it's still a pretty darn good movie. It's flawlessly authentic, benefits from fantastic ensemble acting, and gritty in an immediate, primal (if you'll excuse the pretentions associated with that adjective) way that made me feel like I'd been unceremoniously dumped in the slums of Naples and left there to dodge stray bullets. The documentary-like aesthetic of the film has been duly praised and it really is the element that stands out the most prominently upon viewing Garrone's work.
The five seperate vignettes presented in the film are too anecdotal, however, and character development suffers greatly. Although the intertwining narrative Garrone uses is more immediately engrossing, I couldn't help but feel that each character probably deserved more than the limited they were given to develop into something more three dimensional. In the same way, "Gamorrah" seems to touch on a number fo major philosophical and social issues but doesn't really stop to deeply investigate any of them. It's a bit frustrating to see a film with such intellectual depth fail to live up to its potential but asking "Gamorrah" to be everything I hoped it would be is probably asking too much, to be fair. Suffice it to say that Garrone's delivers a gripping and harrowingly authentic interpretation of Saviano's work that is well worth viewing.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Paranormal Activity
My Kid Could Paint That
The Spy who Came in from the Cold
Directed by Martin Ritt
Director Martin Ritt's adapation of John Le Carré's novel has all the elelments of a slow burning, tightly wound spy caper but it unfortunately fails to live up to the sum of its parts.
Alec Leamas (played fantastically by Richard Burton), a jaded British intelligence agent at the end of his rope, retires to London after a botched job in Berlin. He takes up a job as an assistant librarian and meets the beautiful Nan Perry and the two start up a tentative romance that seems to give the depressed Leamas a shot in the arm. Their burgeoning relationship is cut short when Laemas is called back to duty for a final mission behind the iron curtain where he is tasked with eliminating the East German super spy, Hans Munst.
Like most film adaptations of Le Carré's work that I've been exposed to, "The Spy who came in from the Cold" seems to be filled with great ideas that fail to really translate into anything palpably exciting or intriguing. I was left with the same empty feeling I experienced after watching "The Tailor of Panama" even though Ritt's film enjoyed substantially more critical praise than the latter adaptation of Le Carré's work. There is no doubt that Ritt's adaptation is quite well done and Burton's performance is remarkable, elevating "The Spy who Came into the Cold" beyond some of the less inspired adaptations of Le Carré's work. The bottom line, however, is that I just don't find Le Carré's work that compelling. It's too far flung to seem realistic but not wild enough to just be good, old fashioned cold war era fun in the style of James Bonds' many forays behind the iron curtain. The political and social angles of Ritt's work also seems a bit thin in retrospect as Ritt portrays Laemas as a man caught between two amoral camps, both of which are equally disdainful of the lives of individuals in their pursuit of larger political victory. Although there's an element of truth in that view, I've never been comfortable with works that try to completely level the playing field and stoop to relativism when it comes to evaluating such heavy subject matter.
In the end, however, the lack of poignant or intelligent commentary on the politics of the day could have been overcome by an intriguing narrative. Ritt's work, however revered it may be in the genre, simply fails to deliver on that count.
In the Realms of the Unreal
Directed by Jennifer Yu
Jennifer Yu's documentary about the peculiar life of folk artists Henry Darger offers a fascinating look at the man's art but struggles to peace together the details of Darger's reclusive existence.
Darger was born in Chicago and suffered a difficult childhood, eventually being sent to an orphanage after his father's death. He eventually turned into a reclusive and quiet man, living in a one bedroom flat in a Chicago building owned by Kioyoko Lerner and her husband. Darger worked as a janitor and seemed to have no other interests or friends and led what appeared to those around him to be a lonely life. After his death, Lerner found a huge trove of art in Darger's room, featuring multicolored, wildly imaginative works, some of which were close to 12 feet tall, as well as a 15,000 page illustrated novel titled "In the Realms of the Unreal."
Despite the many strengths of Yu's work, I couldn't shake the feeling that the analysis of Darger was noticeably thin. The problem, I believe, stems from the fact that no one, not Darger's landlord, not his fellow tenants, not even those at the catholic church he attended on a daily basis, really knew Darger. Although his work reveals much about the man, his extreme secrecy makes it diffifcult for anyone interviewed by Yu to give anything approaching serious insight into the man. Yu's film thus wades rather liberally into speculation on everything ranging from his relationship with his parents to potentional psychological illnesses. None of it is malicious and those being interviewed all seem to have a soft spot for the eccentric Darger, but it still remains that no one seems to know enough about the man to offer any authoritative commentary. Yu seems content to allow Darger to be shrouded in mystery and hearsay but her film leaves the viewer feeling by the end of it like they know little more about Darger than at the beginning.
The animation of Darger's work, likely considered blashpemous by folk art purists, was rather delightful in my opinion, bringing Darger's eccentric and colorful work to life in a way that seems to befit Darger's creations. Even though Yu strikes out when it comes to her attempts at appraising Darger himself, her grasp of his art is fantastic and she succesfully emphasizes his creative process and the idiosyncracies of his world. Darger's art remains the film's main draw and his folk aesthethic, filled with fanciful creatures and bright colors, is eye popping and joyful even if it bellies the artirst's own insecurities and loneliness. What struck me the most about Darger's story, however, is how completely humans can retreat away from the real world and into an alternate universe and be, for better or worse, content there. All persons tend to retreat to some extent to a certain alternative universe of their own creation, be it their imagination, art, or any other escape, but Darger is one of the unique few to have escaped almost completely into a different reality while still staying at least partially connected to the real world. A fascinating character, to be sure.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring
Directed by Kim Ki Duk
"Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring," the immensely talented Kim Ki Duk's best known and arguably most accomplished film to date, is a rich and rewarding tale of great symbolic and spiritual depth.
An old monk and his disciple live on a small floating temple in the middle of an isolated lake. This spiritually rigorous environment is suddenly broken when the monk's disciple falls in love with a sick girl from the outside who had been brought to the temple by her mother to convalesce. The young monk's passion soon pushes him to leave his master, a decision he will later regret deeply.
"Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring," although a simple story, is fantastically rich in both character development and symbolism. I've always felt that Kim was one of the most "literary" filmmakers working today (if that makes any sense at all...) insofar as he seems to approach much of his work in a deliberate and calculated way that gives an immense place to detail, character, and symbolism. "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring" is likely his most accomplished work as Kim infuses his film with layer upon layer of symbolic meaning, giving his work an incredible amount of depth in a rather short running time. Despite it's heavy Buddhist underpinnings, "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring" is suffused with a number of universal religious truths, most specifically the emptiness of the material world and the fleeting nature of carnal desires.
Kim's immense talent as a director has often been overshadowed by his choice to focus on shocking or otherwise dicey subject matter so it's nice that he finally released a movie whose subject matter doesn't overshadow Kim's brilliance. Don't get me wrong, some of Kim's more shocking or controversial efforts were also great films but with "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring" you can sit back and enjoy the full breadth of Kim's talent without the cringe inducing scenes or the occasional pangs of disgust that come with some of his other films.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
All About Lily Chou Chou
Directed by Shunji Iwai
Shunji Iwai's horrowing tale of adolescence is a shocking, beautiful, and ultimately believable rumination on isolation, loneliness, and escapism in a digital world.
Yuichi is a 14 year old boy navigating the choppy waters of adolescence with the help of ethereal singer Lily Chou Chou who he spends his time obsessing over with a linkminded band of "Lilyholics" on an internet chatroom. Lily Chou Chou provides Yuichi a measure of escape from his truly hellish school situation where bullying runs rampant, led by the morally bankrupt Hoshino who terrorizes his fellow schoolmates and even runs blackmails some of his female classmates into a forming a prostitution ring. As events at school escalate, Yuichi finds it ever more difficult to keep the gloom of his everyday life from infringing on his sole window of escape, Lily Chou Chou.
"Lily Chou Chou" is unquestionably bleak stuff and gives few glimpses of hope in the otherwise gloomy world that Yuichi and his classmates are trapped in. At the same time, it's a mesmorizing and almost ravisingly beautiful film, Iwai's beautiful visual touches being complemented perfectly by a melancholy score by Takeshi Kobayashi that makes heavy use of Debussy. The gloominess of the script, however, is tempered by Iwai's obvious compassion for his characters and their struggles and his implication that better days are ahead for Yuichi and his friends, no matter how ugly things are at the moment.
Iwai isn't Larry Clarke, meaning he isn't some old hack who thinks high school is a land of rampant drug abuse, sexual promiscuity, and generally misanthropy even though he portrays it that way in "Lily Chou Chou." Many of Iwai's other films that deal with high school aged characters (which make up the bulk of his work) seem to show a range of views on adolescence, such as the saccharine sweet "April Story" or the nostlagic and melancholy "Hana and Alice" both of which treat adolescence as a kinder and decidly gentler time than "Lily Chou Chou." My impression is that Iwai recognizes the pain and the joys of adolescences and simply maximizes them in his work in an effort to present a portrayal of youth that, although being realistic to some degree, pushes the envelope and dips into the surreal as well. I still remember high school and I can say that it often seemed like it was both the best and worst of times, a feeling that Iwai connects well with. I've always appreciated Iwai's ability to tinge his optimistic and bright films with a hint of melancholy and his more gloomy and dark pictures with moments of hope, an ability that gives all of his films greater depth.
This is Shunji Iwai's masterpiece, a wonderful, poignant, and beautiful film that demands repeat viewings.
Bright Future
Directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Kurosawa's first major non-horror efforts proves that the prolific and oftentimes brilliant Japanese director is as versatile as he is talented.
Friends Mamoru and Yuji work together at a small manufacturing plant by day and by night, pretty much take it easy. Yuji has an interest in "music appreciation" and Mamoru, the more eccentric of the two, is trying to adapt a poisonous saltwater jellyfish to freshwater by slowly replacing the seawater in its tank on a daily basis. Seemingly out of nowhere, Mamoru viciously kills their boss and his wife, landing him in on death row. Mamoru's estranged father pops back into the picture and starts a tentative friendship with Yuji.
"Bright Future," although aesthetically similar to much of Kurosawa's other work, lacks the tightly wound narrative focus of films like "Cure" or "Séance" which is not necessarily a bad thing. The loosy goosy (aura) that surrounds Kurosawa's movie is disorienting and constantly surprising without being impossible to follow. Many of the hallmarks of Kuroswa's films nonetheless remain such as the society's often crushing impact on the individual or individual obsession with some eccentric project, in this case Mamoru's efforts to adapt his jellyfish to freshwater.
As a tale of Japan's disaffected youth, "Bright Future" might lack the emotional depth of visceral punch of films like "All about Lily Chou Chou" but it is no less on point, providing an interesting portrayal of urban ennui as opposed to the in your face tales of bullying, violence, and sexual promiscuity shown in the latter. The final scene, a brilliant long shot of a group of teens walking along an avenue in matching outfits of blue jeans and Che Guevera shirts, is indicative of Kurosawa's handling of the issue, his approach significantly more playful and sly than that of other filmmakers interested in the subject.
Kurosawa has always been a master of sound editing but the visual aspect of his films is equally brilliant and, in my opinion at least, chronically underrated. Kurosawa infuses his film with an aesthetic that is at once ominous and unsettling, an unfamiliar vision of the everyday that infuses his films with a sense of melancholic foreboding.
The acting is excellent, the usual in a Kurosawa film, with the always solid Tadanobu Asano taking a convincing turn as the enigmatic Mamoru opposite a solid Joe Odagiri as Yuji.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Taste of Tea
Directed by Katsuhito Ishii
Japanese director Katsuhito Ishii, the notoriously weird mind behind such confusing and oddball creations as "Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl" and "Funky Forest: The First Contact" tones down the weirdness for long enough to make the very satisfying "Taste of Tea," a magic realist exploration of family dynamics in rural Japan.
The Haruno family live in a small bungalow in rural Tochigi prefecture, north of Tokyo. The family is headed by patriarch Nabuo, a quiet salaryman, and his wife Yoshiko, a housewife trying to start a career as an animator. Their son Hajime is a daydreamer, stricken with an infatuation for the school's beautiful new arrival, Aoi. Hajime's younger sister, Sachiko, believes that she is being followed by a gigantic version of herself. Their grandfather, Akira, also lives with the family and spends his days drawing and serving as a model for Yoshiko's animation. The Haruno's uncle, Ayano, also lives with the family, though were never really given any indication that he's doing anything productive with his life.
The plot of "Taste of Tea" is far from elaborate or focused, Ishii contenting himself to drop viewers off at the Haruno's home, let them mill around for a awhile before picking them up again. Despite this, the film is far from pointless or simply anecdotal. Indeed, Ishii deals with each character's particular ambitions or fears but in the end his film in a way that leaves them feeling fleshed out and three dimensional, leaving vieweres with a full picture of all the members of the Haruno household. Although dysfunctional families get plenty of play in the movies, functional families often don't and when they do, it's usually in the form of a crude, ham fisted "Cheaper by the Dozen" caricature. The family in "Taste of Tea" is happy, warm, and loving but never comes off as unreal or Brady Bunch-esque.
At 153 minutes, Ishii's film is probably a half hour too long and he would have done well to part with some of the film's more drawn out scenes. That said, this isn't a film that was meant to be rigidly paced or edited and its languid pace and willingness to drift wherever it pleases give it an element of undeniable charm.