How far behind am I on my reviewing? Between the time I saw two of these movies in the theater and the time I reviewed them, they were out on video. OK, the Brattle only got them a couple weeks before the video release, but wow. All of them are worthwhile, though.
It's interesting to me that Dolls and Bright Future were both advertised by the Brattle as playing against type. I haven't seen enough of either Kitano's or Kurosawa's work to determine whether or not that's really true, but Dolls did remind me quite a bit of Fireworks (only better), and Bright Future did strike me as a horror movie of a sort. As for Otomo, well, he's spent so much time making this movie (eight years!), that there haven't really been a lot of chances for him to establish a type; you sort of have to give him credit for Metropolis in order to put his career in perspective.
I really wish Otomo would do some more, though. I just picked Dark Horse's translation of Metropolis up last week - Newbury Comics had it on their half-off shelf, which was good since I apparently lost my copy on a bus last year before reading it and not paying full-price again was nice. I picked it up along with the first volume of Doll, another spiffy sci-fi manga, and I must say it felt odd actually buying comics at Newbury Comics. But, anyway, Metropolis was an early work of Osamu Tezuka's, and what Otomo did in his screenplay was astonishing; he took a rough, kid-oriented story and made it smart, adding and recasting characters while still keeping the same basic outline. Steamboy is much the same, although it appears to have been created directly for the screen.
Anyway, Steamboy was originally scheduled to play Boston for one week, but has been held over. It's playing dubbed before nine PM, and subtitled after, with the subtitled version twenty minutes longer. I might decide to check out the dubbed version, just to see if it's a little tighter and if not having ones attention drawn to the bottom of the screen makes the gob-smackingly gorgeous visuals even better.
Dolls
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 2 March 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Recent Raves)
I admit - I've kind of avoided Takeshi Kitano until last year. Hana-bi had bored me to tears when I saw it at the only boutique theater in Portland, Maine; and I didn't even connect him to the villain in Johnny Mnemonic, whom I'd read was the biggest star in Japan but hadn't impressed me. Besides, he did pretentious-seeming things like using different names in front of and behind the camera. I really had no idea just how great and varied his talents were until I started to read up on him in anticipation of Zatoichi's release, which allowed me to approach Dolls with an open mind.
Kitano's latest movie to see US release (though it preceded Zatoichi in Japan), Dolls, is a bit on the artsy side. The movie is three vignettes of tragic love, adapted from a type of puppet theater called Bunraku, and uses it as a framing device. Also, the tone of the film is very quiet, although with moments of great passion, and the three stories almost never actually affect each other, just passing close by.
Read the rest at HBS.
Bright Future (Akarui mirai)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 3 March 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Recent Raves)
The American Heritage dictionary defines "sinister" as an adjective meaning "(1) Suggesting or threatening evil; (2) Presaging trouble; ominous; (3) Attending by or causing disaster or inauspicious circumstances." It's not a word that pops into my head during a lot of movies, certainly not as the prime descriptor, but it describes much of Japanese horror filmmaker Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Bright Future very well.
Bright Future isn't exactly a horror movie; it's more about disaffection than malice. Yuji Nimura (Jo Odagiri) and Mamoru Arita (Tadanobu Asano) work in a towel factory. Nimura's in his early twenties, Arita a few years older. They don't seem to have many other friends, hanging out together after work, mainly playing video games and drinking in arcades or their small apartments. Their boss (Takashi Sasano), apparently going through a mid-life crisis, feels similarly adrift, and latches on to them. He offers full-time employment, asks them to help move a desk into his daughter's bedroom and stay for dinner, and would also like to know if he could maybe borrow a CD with their favorite music. One time, he stops by Arita's apartment, and an encounter with the poisonous jellyfish Arita keeps in his salt-water aquarium shows how, though each is dissatisifed, it manifests itself in different ways.
Read the rest at HBS.
Steamboy
* * * * (out of four) (2:16 subtitled Japanese cut)
Seen 23 March 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #2 (first-run)
I've seen Katsuhiro Otomo's new movie, Steamboy, referred to as "steampunk" a few times already. It's a term people have heard to describe alternate history stories set in the latter half of the nineteenth century, only positing a more advanced technology - though one generally based upon available tech and theory. It's a twist on "cyberpunk", itself a term that is already somewhat quaint. But, anyway, there's nothing very punk-ish about Steamboy. It's an exciting adventure story, filled with fantastical machines and daring escapes for its young hero. Call it "steampop", and call it a ton of fun.
After a prologue showing a father-and-son team of engineers working to create a mysterious new steam-powered device (requiring mineral water that will take fifty years to replenish) for a mysterious international consortium in 1866 Russian America (Alaska), we jump to Machester, England, where 12-year-old Ray Steam helps with the engines in a mechanized factory, crawling inside to fix the parts the burly chief engineer can't reach. When he arrives home, he finds a package from his grandfather, Dr. Lloyd Steam (a picture in the kitchen shows that he is the next generation of the engineers in America), along with a note not to allow it to fall into the O'Hara Foundation - who promptly arrive to take it. After an exhilarating chase scene, he fails, and is taken to London where he finds that the man his grandfather said must not get his hands on the "steam ball" is... Ray's father, Dr. Edward Steam?
Oh, yeah, this is going to be an uncomfortable Christmas dinner. The heart of the film is that Ray must choose between the values espoused by his grandfather, who insists science must be done slowly and carefully and only be used for the betterment of humanity, and his father, who is willing to work with arms merchants like the O'Hara Foundation if that's what it takes to bring his dreams to life. This is, of course, a highly simplistic way to frame the debate over how much scientific researchers should restrain their subjects as opposed tot their methods, but it's effective because it is, at its heart, a kid having to take sides between his father and grandfather, both of whom he adores. Give Otomo and his co-writer Sadayuki Murai credit, though, for also forcing Ray to realize that conflicts between idealists will inevitably become conflicts between groups seeking out their self-interest.
Read the rest at HBS.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Monday, March 21, 2005
SF/30 - Don't try this at home (10 movies)
So, anyway, the plan was to put all the movies I saw and reviewed at the thirtieth annual Boston Science Fiction Film Festival together into one post. Of course, this plan didn't take into account that my job had actually originally expected me to be doing some working-from-home that weekend, so I had almost no time to actually do any writing that week. Then I spent the next month actually seeing movies when I could have been writing about them. I think I've got something like a ten-movie backlog to review. My goal is to be caught up by the end of the month.
As you know, rather than full reviews, I'm just posting the first couple of paragraphs plus a link to where they are on HBS. I also just wrote a feature article about my thon experiences, a sort of diary. Here's the link. I actually did come up with most of this while in the theater. Whether that's bragging or confession is up to you, the reader. Otherwise, I would have put in some remarks about how it got tough in the middle, because I could only find my red pen, but the little light I was using to write by without disturbing my neighbors (much) was also red, so I couldn't see what I was writing. Thought I was going crazy for a minute there.
So, here's the reviews. Ten new ones, since I've previously written up four of them, and don't know what to say about The Adventures of Space Baby & Mental Man. I probably slept through a good chunk of it, and I'm not sure how to judge it - they spent several times what Primer, for instance, cost, so it's kind of professional, but it's also an enthusiast with no training directing his kids from a script he wrote with his eight-year-old son (who also stars). The conflict between "boy, that sucked" and "aw, isn't that cute" is nearly unresolvable. And, like I said, I don't know how much I actually saw.
My brother Matt, though, would probably kill to have the friend who funded this as a buddy of his.
The Creature of the Sunny Side Up Trailer Park (aka Bloodhead)
* * * (out of four)
Seen 18 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Opening Night)
If there's one phrase I'd like to stomp out when when talking movies, it's "so bad it's good". It's right up there with "guilty pleasures" - you shouldn't feel guilty about liking any sort of movie, even if it's a cheaply-made monster movie. Also, the movies we describe as "so bad they're good" are good for reasons beyond the actual quality or lack thereof. Otherwise, logically, any idiot could ineptly make a movie and it would be a hoot.
There is a certain vibe to those movies we enjoy, but it's not easy to capture deliberately. If I had to guess, I'd say that you have to take your subject matter seriously, or at least convince the audience that you do, no matter how absurd it may be. That's why a jokey parody like, say, The Lost Skeleton of Cadavera falls flat on its face, while something like Christopher Coppola's Creature of the Sunny Side Up Trailer Park works rather well.
Read the rest at HBS.
Superman
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
"Superman" has received a lot of attention as a franchise over the past few years, with a popular TV show, a new movie finally being shot after spending about a decade in development hell, and a best-selling novelist writing one of the comic books (with superstar artist Jim Lee on another). With the star of this adaptation suffering and dying nobly, there has been a strong sentiment, both implied and outright stated, that this movie and its first sequel are not only the best adaptation of Superman ever made, but the best that ever can be made, and that all other versions are either pointless or must make some effort to pay homage to it.
Now, Superman is a fantastic movie. Only a few other comic book adaptations are in the same class as it. But to hear that Bryan Singer is considering the incorporation of unused footage from this movie in his forthcoming Super-movie, or tying the new film's continuity to Richard Donner's version is, I think, going overboard. The 1978 Superman is a classic, but it's not perfect. Singer, and anyone else considering adapting the character, should take note of everything this movie gets right - along with the few things it gets wrong.
Read the rest at HBS.
THX 1138 (2004 cut)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Somewhere, in an alternate universe, THX 1138 had the same influence on science-fiction filmmaking that director George Lucas's later Star Wars did. I'm not sure what that universe looks like - perhaps the Matrix movies really were smart movies where the special effects existed to serve the story there, or perhaps Solaris (either version) was a smash hit - but I'm not sure that it's a better place. It's a very nice thing to have the occasional THX 1138, but I wouldn't want a multiplex full of them.
THX 1138 borrows heavily from Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, positing a society where manufacturing and consumption isn't just the economic engine, but is the acknowledge central activity in people's lives. They take drugs to dull their senses and emotions, and watch their entertainment without appearing to get any real enjoyment out of it (is there an earlier depiction of a bored man absently channel surfing?). Everybody looks and dresses the same, down to their shaved heads. Life is a purely mechanical process, until someone breaks out of their ordained rut.
Read the rest at HBS.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a good little film that, by being among the first to tap into a certain basic idea, became regarded as a classic. Some will say that it's an allegory for the fear of communism in the fifties, and maybe there's a little something to that. When watched in a crowded theater at midnight, however, it is still an inexpensive B-movie.
That basic idea, of course, is ones friends and neighbors being replaced by alien doppelgangers, alike in every way except for a lack of emotion. I find myself wondering what these duplicates would do if they succeeded in converting the entire world, as they apparently plan to. Are they programmed for a greater purpose? Would they cycle through endless identical days in an imitation of human life? Would they take their true forms, once they had the planet to themselves? We'll never know; the movie ends well before that can happen.
Read the rest at HBS.
Planet of the Apes (1968)
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Has a grimmer, more cynical story than Planet of the Apes ever become both a major pop culture touchstone and commercial franchise? Sure, there are horror series, but even they generally end with the bad guys vanquished, even if no-one really thinks it will stick. Planet of the Apes, though, offers us a hero who thinks the worst of people and isn't often far wrong.
That "hero" is George Taylor (Charlton Heston), an astronaut on a deep-space mission of exploration. Even in a state of suspended animation, the trip will take subjective years, and that's before relativistic effects multiply the objective time a hundredfold. This makes it in all likelihood a one way trip - even if they do return, civilization on Earth would likely be unrecognizable - and that suits Taylor just fine. Things go spectacularly wrong, though, and when they arrive at their destination, the sole female member of their crew is dead, and the ship is forced to crash-land. (As an aside, given the long-term, likely one-way nature of the journey even before the crash, a crew compliment of three men and one woman seems less than optimal.) Fortunately, the planet is relatively hospitable - oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, carbon-based life, human-friendly climate - except for its inhabitants: Somehow, on this world, humans are the only primates unable to speak or reason. A hunting party of intelligent apes captures Taylor and another survivor, dealing him a nasty throat injury that initially prevents him from communicating with his captors.
Read the rest at HBS.
The Apple
* * (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Context is so very important when reviewing a movie. There are classic films I don't properly appreciate because I've only seen them on DVD in the solitary privacy of my living room. Similarly, when I tell you that I greatly enjoyed The Apple, it's important to realize that I saw it as the eighth film of a twenty-four hour, thirteen-film marathon, starting at around quarter of two in the morning. An actual good movie would have knocked me out cold, whereas The Apple sent my optic and otic nerves into overdrive and delivered enough sheer nonsense that my brain had to jump back up to full power in a futile attempt to make some sense of it.
Actually, making sense of it isn't terribly difficult. You just have to accept that American Idol (er, Eurovision - this 1980 movie only predicts the far-off world of 1994) is not only corrupt and rigged, but is in fact run by Satan - who not only controls the record industry, but can give its desires the force of law. Go ahead, use your own jokes. I'll wait.
...
Read the rest at HBS.
Starship Troopers 2: Hero of the Federation
* (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Most of the time, I have a hard time coming up with a snarky one-liner to be used at the top of the review. It's just not in me. While watching Starship Troopers 2, though, I not only came up with the one above, but "How cheap is a movie that can't even afford to bring back Casper van Dien?" also popped into my head, and I wrote them down.
Granted, the "writing down" was for a later diary feature and because the act of writing helped keep me awake when this movie was running at 3:30 AM, but it serves to illustrate a point: Pretty much all of the actual entertainment value of this movie was self-generated. As dismal as Paul Verhoven's Starship Troopers was, it featured some eye candy and some satire. The sequel just recycles some of those elements and grafts them onto Stock Sci-Fi/Horror Plot #4.
Read the rest at HBS.
Charly
* * * (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
There was initially some griping about the inclusion of Charly on the SF/30 message board about the selections were announced. For October Sky and Field of Dreams, I can understand, but Charly is a pretty decent science fiction movie.
It is, however, the kind of science fiction that doesn't exactly advertise its genre. The original short story "Flowers for Algernon" (later expanded into a novel) appeared in Fantasy & Science Fiction, which as a magazine tends to focus more on the literary aspects of the genre, such as characterization and writing style, as opposed to the big ideas and larger-than-life adventure of, say, Analog. Because of this, some will say that movies like this aren't really science fiction, but dramas, as if a story can't be both. And despite a story is more directly about scientific research than many SF movies, it is undeniable that Charly is an actor's showcase, less concerned with the ramifications of a new discovery than how it affects Charly Gordon (Cliff Robertson).
Read the rest at HBS.
Earth vs. the Flying Saucers
* ¾ (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Part of the reason many people come to Boston's sci-fi marathon is for bad movies. Talking back to the screen is tolerated, to a certain extent, so there's the desire to see who can mock the hardest. Many of the old-timers first got into sci-fi by seeing midnight movies that seemed awesome to kids who didn't know any better. So, every year, the schedule makers make sure to toss in one piece of stinky cheese; this year, it was Earth vs. the Flying Saucers.
I admit, it is kind of reassuring to see that movies like this were made fifty years ago. Today, when a movie that doesn't make a lick of sense but has some spiffy visual effects comes out, and people are falling all over themselves to proclaim that CGI is destroying the movies, it's good to be able to point at crap like this and say, hey, it's just the tools that have changed. It doesn't make the newer movies any better, but deflating nostalgia is generally good in and of itself.
Read the rest at HBS.
The Time Machine (1960)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
All good things must come to an end, and this year the marathon ended with George Pal's spiffy adaptation of H.G. Wells's The Time Machine. And to think, just a couple years ago, we narrowly escaped a preview of the new version because a print wasn't ready in time.
I try to be stingy with the four-star ratings, because it can be misconstrued as "perfect", everything a filmmaker can aspire to create. The Time Machine isn't perfect, but if you look at rating a movie as starting from having four or five clay stars in your hands and hacking a chip off (or chucking a star aside) every time the movie falls short, by the time this movie ends you should still have your original complement of stars. That last one may be a little scuffed up, and maybe a notch or two where you certainly considered cutting but held off after a couple seconds' thought about it being released in 1960, but it still rounds to a perfect score.
Read the rest at HBS.
OK... I'm going to go for fewer than ten reviews plus a feature next time. How about two from Japan - Dolls and Bright Future? Some good connections between those two.
As you know, rather than full reviews, I'm just posting the first couple of paragraphs plus a link to where they are on HBS. I also just wrote a feature article about my thon experiences, a sort of diary. Here's the link. I actually did come up with most of this while in the theater. Whether that's bragging or confession is up to you, the reader. Otherwise, I would have put in some remarks about how it got tough in the middle, because I could only find my red pen, but the little light I was using to write by without disturbing my neighbors (much) was also red, so I couldn't see what I was writing. Thought I was going crazy for a minute there.
So, here's the reviews. Ten new ones, since I've previously written up four of them, and don't know what to say about The Adventures of Space Baby & Mental Man. I probably slept through a good chunk of it, and I'm not sure how to judge it - they spent several times what Primer, for instance, cost, so it's kind of professional, but it's also an enthusiast with no training directing his kids from a script he wrote with his eight-year-old son (who also stars). The conflict between "boy, that sucked" and "aw, isn't that cute" is nearly unresolvable. And, like I said, I don't know how much I actually saw.
My brother Matt, though, would probably kill to have the friend who funded this as a buddy of his.
The Creature of the Sunny Side Up Trailer Park (aka Bloodhead)
* * * (out of four)
Seen 18 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Opening Night)
If there's one phrase I'd like to stomp out when when talking movies, it's "so bad it's good". It's right up there with "guilty pleasures" - you shouldn't feel guilty about liking any sort of movie, even if it's a cheaply-made monster movie. Also, the movies we describe as "so bad they're good" are good for reasons beyond the actual quality or lack thereof. Otherwise, logically, any idiot could ineptly make a movie and it would be a hoot.
There is a certain vibe to those movies we enjoy, but it's not easy to capture deliberately. If I had to guess, I'd say that you have to take your subject matter seriously, or at least convince the audience that you do, no matter how absurd it may be. That's why a jokey parody like, say, The Lost Skeleton of Cadavera falls flat on its face, while something like Christopher Coppola's Creature of the Sunny Side Up Trailer Park works rather well.
Read the rest at HBS.
Superman
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
"Superman" has received a lot of attention as a franchise over the past few years, with a popular TV show, a new movie finally being shot after spending about a decade in development hell, and a best-selling novelist writing one of the comic books (with superstar artist Jim Lee on another). With the star of this adaptation suffering and dying nobly, there has been a strong sentiment, both implied and outright stated, that this movie and its first sequel are not only the best adaptation of Superman ever made, but the best that ever can be made, and that all other versions are either pointless or must make some effort to pay homage to it.
Now, Superman is a fantastic movie. Only a few other comic book adaptations are in the same class as it. But to hear that Bryan Singer is considering the incorporation of unused footage from this movie in his forthcoming Super-movie, or tying the new film's continuity to Richard Donner's version is, I think, going overboard. The 1978 Superman is a classic, but it's not perfect. Singer, and anyone else considering adapting the character, should take note of everything this movie gets right - along with the few things it gets wrong.
Read the rest at HBS.
THX 1138 (2004 cut)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Somewhere, in an alternate universe, THX 1138 had the same influence on science-fiction filmmaking that director George Lucas's later Star Wars did. I'm not sure what that universe looks like - perhaps the Matrix movies really were smart movies where the special effects existed to serve the story there, or perhaps Solaris (either version) was a smash hit - but I'm not sure that it's a better place. It's a very nice thing to have the occasional THX 1138, but I wouldn't want a multiplex full of them.
THX 1138 borrows heavily from Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, positing a society where manufacturing and consumption isn't just the economic engine, but is the acknowledge central activity in people's lives. They take drugs to dull their senses and emotions, and watch their entertainment without appearing to get any real enjoyment out of it (is there an earlier depiction of a bored man absently channel surfing?). Everybody looks and dresses the same, down to their shaved heads. Life is a purely mechanical process, until someone breaks out of their ordained rut.
Read the rest at HBS.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a good little film that, by being among the first to tap into a certain basic idea, became regarded as a classic. Some will say that it's an allegory for the fear of communism in the fifties, and maybe there's a little something to that. When watched in a crowded theater at midnight, however, it is still an inexpensive B-movie.
That basic idea, of course, is ones friends and neighbors being replaced by alien doppelgangers, alike in every way except for a lack of emotion. I find myself wondering what these duplicates would do if they succeeded in converting the entire world, as they apparently plan to. Are they programmed for a greater purpose? Would they cycle through endless identical days in an imitation of human life? Would they take their true forms, once they had the planet to themselves? We'll never know; the movie ends well before that can happen.
Read the rest at HBS.
Planet of the Apes (1968)
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 19 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Has a grimmer, more cynical story than Planet of the Apes ever become both a major pop culture touchstone and commercial franchise? Sure, there are horror series, but even they generally end with the bad guys vanquished, even if no-one really thinks it will stick. Planet of the Apes, though, offers us a hero who thinks the worst of people and isn't often far wrong.
That "hero" is George Taylor (Charlton Heston), an astronaut on a deep-space mission of exploration. Even in a state of suspended animation, the trip will take subjective years, and that's before relativistic effects multiply the objective time a hundredfold. This makes it in all likelihood a one way trip - even if they do return, civilization on Earth would likely be unrecognizable - and that suits Taylor just fine. Things go spectacularly wrong, though, and when they arrive at their destination, the sole female member of their crew is dead, and the ship is forced to crash-land. (As an aside, given the long-term, likely one-way nature of the journey even before the crash, a crew compliment of three men and one woman seems less than optimal.) Fortunately, the planet is relatively hospitable - oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, carbon-based life, human-friendly climate - except for its inhabitants: Somehow, on this world, humans are the only primates unable to speak or reason. A hunting party of intelligent apes captures Taylor and another survivor, dealing him a nasty throat injury that initially prevents him from communicating with his captors.
Read the rest at HBS.
The Apple
* * (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Context is so very important when reviewing a movie. There are classic films I don't properly appreciate because I've only seen them on DVD in the solitary privacy of my living room. Similarly, when I tell you that I greatly enjoyed The Apple, it's important to realize that I saw it as the eighth film of a twenty-four hour, thirteen-film marathon, starting at around quarter of two in the morning. An actual good movie would have knocked me out cold, whereas The Apple sent my optic and otic nerves into overdrive and delivered enough sheer nonsense that my brain had to jump back up to full power in a futile attempt to make some sense of it.
Actually, making sense of it isn't terribly difficult. You just have to accept that American Idol (er, Eurovision - this 1980 movie only predicts the far-off world of 1994) is not only corrupt and rigged, but is in fact run by Satan - who not only controls the record industry, but can give its desires the force of law. Go ahead, use your own jokes. I'll wait.
...
Read the rest at HBS.
Starship Troopers 2: Hero of the Federation
* (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Most of the time, I have a hard time coming up with a snarky one-liner to be used at the top of the review. It's just not in me. While watching Starship Troopers 2, though, I not only came up with the one above, but "How cheap is a movie that can't even afford to bring back Casper van Dien?" also popped into my head, and I wrote them down.
Granted, the "writing down" was for a later diary feature and because the act of writing helped keep me awake when this movie was running at 3:30 AM, but it serves to illustrate a point: Pretty much all of the actual entertainment value of this movie was self-generated. As dismal as Paul Verhoven's Starship Troopers was, it featured some eye candy and some satire. The sequel just recycles some of those elements and grafts them onto Stock Sci-Fi/Horror Plot #4.
Read the rest at HBS.
Charly
* * * (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
There was initially some griping about the inclusion of Charly on the SF/30 message board about the selections were announced. For October Sky and Field of Dreams, I can understand, but Charly is a pretty decent science fiction movie.
It is, however, the kind of science fiction that doesn't exactly advertise its genre. The original short story "Flowers for Algernon" (later expanded into a novel) appeared in Fantasy & Science Fiction, which as a magazine tends to focus more on the literary aspects of the genre, such as characterization and writing style, as opposed to the big ideas and larger-than-life adventure of, say, Analog. Because of this, some will say that movies like this aren't really science fiction, but dramas, as if a story can't be both. And despite a story is more directly about scientific research than many SF movies, it is undeniable that Charly is an actor's showcase, less concerned with the ramifications of a new discovery than how it affects Charly Gordon (Cliff Robertson).
Read the rest at HBS.
Earth vs. the Flying Saucers
* ¾ (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
Part of the reason many people come to Boston's sci-fi marathon is for bad movies. Talking back to the screen is tolerated, to a certain extent, so there's the desire to see who can mock the hardest. Many of the old-timers first got into sci-fi by seeing midnight movies that seemed awesome to kids who didn't know any better. So, every year, the schedule makers make sure to toss in one piece of stinky cheese; this year, it was Earth vs. the Flying Saucers.
I admit, it is kind of reassuring to see that movies like this were made fifty years ago. Today, when a movie that doesn't make a lick of sense but has some spiffy visual effects comes out, and people are falling all over themselves to proclaim that CGI is destroying the movies, it's good to be able to point at crap like this and say, hey, it's just the tools that have changed. It doesn't make the newer movies any better, but deflating nostalgia is generally good in and of itself.
Read the rest at HBS.
The Time Machine (1960)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 20 February 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (SF/30) (Marathon)
All good things must come to an end, and this year the marathon ended with George Pal's spiffy adaptation of H.G. Wells's The Time Machine. And to think, just a couple years ago, we narrowly escaped a preview of the new version because a print wasn't ready in time.
I try to be stingy with the four-star ratings, because it can be misconstrued as "perfect", everything a filmmaker can aspire to create. The Time Machine isn't perfect, but if you look at rating a movie as starting from having four or five clay stars in your hands and hacking a chip off (or chucking a star aside) every time the movie falls short, by the time this movie ends you should still have your original complement of stars. That last one may be a little scuffed up, and maybe a notch or two where you certainly considered cutting but held off after a couple seconds' thought about it being released in 1960, but it still rounds to a perfect score.
Read the rest at HBS.
OK... I'm going to go for fewer than ten reviews plus a feature next time. How about two from Japan - Dolls and Bright Future? Some good connections between those two.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Children without parents in Japan: A Tree of Palme, Grave of the Fireflies, and Nobody Knows
There's not REALLY a pattern here - after all, between Grave of the Fireflies and Nobody Knows I went to the Boston Sci-Fi Film festival (that'll be a huge update), which didn't have an orphaned Japanese kid to be found. But this makes for a nice grouping.
Still, it is three films seen in a fairly short period of time which touch upon similar themes. And I don't know if it's giving away much to say that none have the sort of happy ending one might expect from a mainstream American film, not even the animated adventure movie. Nothing wrong with that, and it's probably more realistic than having kids thrive without some adult authority figure.
I wonder if it's a Japanese-versus-American thing. Are children idealized more in the United States, such that we have a much harder time bringing ourselves to depict them in danger or the victims of tragedy, or a greater respect for authority in Japan? Or am I just unfairly comparing Japanese movies made for adults to mainstream American movies made for kids?
Heck if I know. Probalby more spotting trends where there's nothing but a small sample size.
A Tree of Palme (Parumu no Ki)
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 13 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Animation Celebration)
It's hard to look at Takashi Nakamura's A Tree of Palme and not think "Pinocchio". The central character, after all, is a wooden boy, on a quest which he hopes will culminate in becoming human. Certain sights seen along the way seem obviously lifted from that story (or at least Walt Disney's version of it), as well. But A Tree of Palme is its own animal, an intriguing science-fictional take on the concept.
The movie opens on a desert, with a warrior by the name of Koram fighting her way through a pack of pursuers. We also get our first view of Palme, dangling inert from a tree. Carved from a rare variety of wood that is said to store the memories of a civilization, he was crafted to be a companion to a terminally ill woman, Xian, and he just shut down after she passed on, only intermittently springing back to life over the ensuing decades. Koram bears a resemblance to Xian, which is enough to motivate Palme to complete her journey after she entrusts an incredible artifact/energy source to him.
Read the rest at HBS.
Grave of the Fireflies (Hotaru no haka)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 16 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Animation Celebration) (projected video)
Movies about soldiers, generals, and national leaders don't really get at why war is so awful. In even the most militarized societies, there's still a massive civilian population of people that try to go on living their lives in much the same way, only with a million times the stress placed on them. Most confused are children, who aren't yet equipped to understand just why the world has changed so much.
Isao Takahata's Grave of the Fireflies (from a novel by Akiyuki Nosaka) tells the story of a brother and sister trying to survive during the American firebombing of Japan during World War II. The boy, Seita, is about twelve; his sister, Setsuko, is about five. Their father is in the Navy; they lose their mother early on. An aunt takes them in, but soon grows to resent them, and they strike out on their own.
Read the rest at HBS.
Nobody Knows (Dare mo Shiranai)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 27 February 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #5 (first-run)
Stories like the one which inspired Nobody Knows give one a better appreciation for the busybody - ones where each individual act is strange, but not strange enough to get noticed by someone minding their won business. Add them up, though, and the totality becomes almost unbelievable and shameful. It's the kind of story that could give rise to a sermonizing, strident film, but director Kore-eda Hirokazu makes something a little more interesting than that.
As the movie opens, Keiko and her twelve-year-old son, Akira, are moving into a new apartment The landlords think she's nice, and recognize Akira as the responsible boy he is, but say they're glad she doesn't have any more children. What they don't realize is that she does - the two youngest, Shigeru and Yuki, were smuggled in inside suitcases, with twelve-year-old Kyoko waiting at the train station until nightfall to sneak in unnoticed. At dinner, Keiko reminds the children that they must do what Akira says, and never get discovered, which means no going outside or making too much noise. The next day, she goes off to work, leaving Akira in charge. Soon, she's gone for days. Then weeks. Then...
Read the rest at HBS.
Next up: SF/30. 15 movies in three days, 13 of them in a 24-hour time period. It's a phenomenally stupid thing to attempt if you value your ability to function for the next week or so..
Still, it is three films seen in a fairly short period of time which touch upon similar themes. And I don't know if it's giving away much to say that none have the sort of happy ending one might expect from a mainstream American film, not even the animated adventure movie. Nothing wrong with that, and it's probably more realistic than having kids thrive without some adult authority figure.
I wonder if it's a Japanese-versus-American thing. Are children idealized more in the United States, such that we have a much harder time bringing ourselves to depict them in danger or the victims of tragedy, or a greater respect for authority in Japan? Or am I just unfairly comparing Japanese movies made for adults to mainstream American movies made for kids?
Heck if I know. Probalby more spotting trends where there's nothing but a small sample size.
A Tree of Palme (Parumu no Ki)
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 13 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Animation Celebration)
It's hard to look at Takashi Nakamura's A Tree of Palme and not think "Pinocchio". The central character, after all, is a wooden boy, on a quest which he hopes will culminate in becoming human. Certain sights seen along the way seem obviously lifted from that story (or at least Walt Disney's version of it), as well. But A Tree of Palme is its own animal, an intriguing science-fictional take on the concept.
The movie opens on a desert, with a warrior by the name of Koram fighting her way through a pack of pursuers. We also get our first view of Palme, dangling inert from a tree. Carved from a rare variety of wood that is said to store the memories of a civilization, he was crafted to be a companion to a terminally ill woman, Xian, and he just shut down after she passed on, only intermittently springing back to life over the ensuing decades. Koram bears a resemblance to Xian, which is enough to motivate Palme to complete her journey after she entrusts an incredible artifact/energy source to him.
Read the rest at HBS.
Grave of the Fireflies (Hotaru no haka)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 16 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Animation Celebration) (projected video)
Movies about soldiers, generals, and national leaders don't really get at why war is so awful. In even the most militarized societies, there's still a massive civilian population of people that try to go on living their lives in much the same way, only with a million times the stress placed on them. Most confused are children, who aren't yet equipped to understand just why the world has changed so much.
Isao Takahata's Grave of the Fireflies (from a novel by Akiyuki Nosaka) tells the story of a brother and sister trying to survive during the American firebombing of Japan during World War II. The boy, Seita, is about twelve; his sister, Setsuko, is about five. Their father is in the Navy; they lose their mother early on. An aunt takes them in, but soon grows to resent them, and they strike out on their own.
Read the rest at HBS.
Nobody Knows (Dare mo Shiranai)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 27 February 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #5 (first-run)
Stories like the one which inspired Nobody Knows give one a better appreciation for the busybody - ones where each individual act is strange, but not strange enough to get noticed by someone minding their won business. Add them up, though, and the totality becomes almost unbelievable and shameful. It's the kind of story that could give rise to a sermonizing, strident film, but director Kore-eda Hirokazu makes something a little more interesting than that.
As the movie opens, Keiko and her twelve-year-old son, Akira, are moving into a new apartment The landlords think she's nice, and recognize Akira as the responsible boy he is, but say they're glad she doesn't have any more children. What they don't realize is that she does - the two youngest, Shigeru and Yuki, were smuggled in inside suitcases, with twelve-year-old Kyoko waiting at the train station until nightfall to sneak in unnoticed. At dinner, Keiko reminds the children that they must do what Akira says, and never get discovered, which means no going outside or making too much noise. The next day, she goes off to work, leaving Akira in charge. Soon, she's gone for days. Then weeks. Then...
Read the rest at HBS.
Next up: SF/30. 15 movies in three days, 13 of them in a 24-hour time period. It's a phenomenally stupid thing to attempt if you value your ability to function for the next week or so..
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Life in its myriad forms: Aliens of the Deep, Galapagos, The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill
More catching up, while also throwing I saw yesterday in because it sort of fits the theme.
Anyway, let it be known: I love IMAX. I really should go to the Aquarium and, especially, Museum of Science more often. I find it really distressing that more filmmakers are moving toward digital video and none have had the nerve to say "let's shoot a feature in IMAX". Digital video is getting better all the time, but there are still limitations to it. It'll be a while before it can capture a picture as clear and beautiful as large-format film. I get that filmmakers like Robert Rodriguez just want an easy-to-use tool that allows them to capture and manipulate what they see, and not have to be chemists, and I do approve of that mindset. But, still, it's not there yet.
I also thoroughly approve of James Cameron continuing to shoot underwater documentaries. One of my fellow critics at HBS led off with snarky comments about how Cameron is ducking the challenge of another feature, and my first (uncharitable) thought was "well, you can just go die". I'd much rather see Cameron create works like this that excite him than a feature that he doesn't feel as invested in.
(And, yeah, Cameron used digital video to shoot Aliens of the Deep. Now, while I bet that if there's any director who COULD figure out how to practically bring a ton of camera equipment and film to the bottom of the ocean, it's James Cameron, but this is a fair trade-off).
So, without further ado, the reviews (Galapagos isn't in HBS's database, and I tied it to the Aliens of the Deep review, so I'll just post the whole thing here):
Aliens of the Deep
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 12 February 2005 at the New England Aquarium Simons IMAX Theater (first-run)
It's funny; as much as I enjoy James Cameron as a feature filmmaker, I like him even more as a deep-water documentarian. Working in the documentary form frees him from the need to create character conflict and threats and villains. In Cameron's documentaries, the world - and the unknown - isn't something to be afraid of, but to be amazed by.
That kind of amazement is a hugely necessary thing. Think about it - when was the last time you saw a science fiction (or plain science) movie or television show that hit you wit, to use a phrase that is still accurate despite its frequent use, a sense of wonder? That said the universe beyond what we can see is full of strangeness, but made that strangeness something to be cherished? That is what James Cameron does in Aliens of the Deep.
Read the rest at HBS.
Galapagos
* * * (out of four)
Seen 12 February 2005 at the New England Aquarium Simons IMAX Theater (double feature)
The Galapagos Islands are famous for being where Charles Darwin made the observations that led to the theory of evolution via natural selection. They are a stunning landscape, for the most part untouched by the hands of man, and there are still much to be learned by observing the local flora and fauna.
That is the goal of Carole Baldwin, a marine biologist with the Smithsonian, whom we follow as she explores the island, observing a variety of animals in their habitats and taking samples. She also climbs in a submersible to take samples from the waters around the islands.
As is to be expected, the three-dimensional photography is beautiful. Unlike Aliens of the Deep, Galapagos uses full-sized IMAX film, resulting in a clarity no other medium can yet match. The directors, David Clark and Al Giddings, are nature and underwater specialists, with an eye for good subjects. They're cognizant of the medium, allowing landscapes to take fill the screen and never zooming in too much - a close-up is a fine thing when the medium is a twenty-five inch television, but somewhat overpowering on an eight-story screen. How the local animals have adapted to blend into the surroundings presents them with a few challenges, but they're up to it.
As gorgeous as the photography is, though, the movie is somewhat dry. It's not quite a lecture-with-pictures, but Ms. Baldwin isn't quite as captivating a presence as the scientists who accompanied Cameron on his expedition (or isn't edited as well). The narration by Kenneth Branagh certainly doesn't generate much enthusiasm. The movie's "ooh, that's nifty" high point probably comes as Baldwin takes samples in her submersible; the vacuum cleaner-like mechanism is a neat and functional add-on to the bubble-like yellow machines.
The nature documentary is a tough genre to rate; they have a fairly simple mission statement, and there's sometimes the feeling that if you've seen one, a lot of others will be similar. Galapagos is a good example of the genre, well worth seeking out for people who love science, nature, or great photography.
The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 5 March 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #5 (first-run)
The title of The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill is not so much deceptive as it is incomplete - although they are unquestionably one of the film's main subjects, equal attention is given to the eccentric man who is their self-appointed caretaker. In many ways, this movie is even more about Mark Bittner than it is about his avian friends.
There are various theories presented as to how San Francisco acquired a flock of South American parrots; some clearly urban legends, with a story a bird-shop owner tells of one of his suppliers losing a shipment has the most credence. Despite being tropical birds, they have managed to eke out a life in this not-always-hospitable city. Bittner points out that they could have survived without him as a justification to his claim that they're wild animals (an amusing early scene has one passerby claiming that they can't truly be wild if they have names). A long-haired one-time musician, Bittner isn't completely domesticated either. His "landlords" say that they don't want to use the term "squatter", but saying that does kind of get it out there. This will be important during the movie's second half.
Read the rest at HBS.
Next on the agenda - three Japanese movies about kids without parents: Tree of Palme, Grave of the Fireflies, and Nobody Knows
Anyway, let it be known: I love IMAX. I really should go to the Aquarium and, especially, Museum of Science more often. I find it really distressing that more filmmakers are moving toward digital video and none have had the nerve to say "let's shoot a feature in IMAX". Digital video is getting better all the time, but there are still limitations to it. It'll be a while before it can capture a picture as clear and beautiful as large-format film. I get that filmmakers like Robert Rodriguez just want an easy-to-use tool that allows them to capture and manipulate what they see, and not have to be chemists, and I do approve of that mindset. But, still, it's not there yet.
I also thoroughly approve of James Cameron continuing to shoot underwater documentaries. One of my fellow critics at HBS led off with snarky comments about how Cameron is ducking the challenge of another feature, and my first (uncharitable) thought was "well, you can just go die". I'd much rather see Cameron create works like this that excite him than a feature that he doesn't feel as invested in.
(And, yeah, Cameron used digital video to shoot Aliens of the Deep. Now, while I bet that if there's any director who COULD figure out how to practically bring a ton of camera equipment and film to the bottom of the ocean, it's James Cameron, but this is a fair trade-off).
So, without further ado, the reviews (Galapagos isn't in HBS's database, and I tied it to the Aliens of the Deep review, so I'll just post the whole thing here):
Aliens of the Deep
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 12 February 2005 at the New England Aquarium Simons IMAX Theater (first-run)
It's funny; as much as I enjoy James Cameron as a feature filmmaker, I like him even more as a deep-water documentarian. Working in the documentary form frees him from the need to create character conflict and threats and villains. In Cameron's documentaries, the world - and the unknown - isn't something to be afraid of, but to be amazed by.
That kind of amazement is a hugely necessary thing. Think about it - when was the last time you saw a science fiction (or plain science) movie or television show that hit you wit, to use a phrase that is still accurate despite its frequent use, a sense of wonder? That said the universe beyond what we can see is full of strangeness, but made that strangeness something to be cherished? That is what James Cameron does in Aliens of the Deep.
Read the rest at HBS.
Galapagos
* * * (out of four)
Seen 12 February 2005 at the New England Aquarium Simons IMAX Theater (double feature)
The Galapagos Islands are famous for being where Charles Darwin made the observations that led to the theory of evolution via natural selection. They are a stunning landscape, for the most part untouched by the hands of man, and there are still much to be learned by observing the local flora and fauna.
That is the goal of Carole Baldwin, a marine biologist with the Smithsonian, whom we follow as she explores the island, observing a variety of animals in their habitats and taking samples. She also climbs in a submersible to take samples from the waters around the islands.
As is to be expected, the three-dimensional photography is beautiful. Unlike Aliens of the Deep, Galapagos uses full-sized IMAX film, resulting in a clarity no other medium can yet match. The directors, David Clark and Al Giddings, are nature and underwater specialists, with an eye for good subjects. They're cognizant of the medium, allowing landscapes to take fill the screen and never zooming in too much - a close-up is a fine thing when the medium is a twenty-five inch television, but somewhat overpowering on an eight-story screen. How the local animals have adapted to blend into the surroundings presents them with a few challenges, but they're up to it.
As gorgeous as the photography is, though, the movie is somewhat dry. It's not quite a lecture-with-pictures, but Ms. Baldwin isn't quite as captivating a presence as the scientists who accompanied Cameron on his expedition (or isn't edited as well). The narration by Kenneth Branagh certainly doesn't generate much enthusiasm. The movie's "ooh, that's nifty" high point probably comes as Baldwin takes samples in her submersible; the vacuum cleaner-like mechanism is a neat and functional add-on to the bubble-like yellow machines.
The nature documentary is a tough genre to rate; they have a fairly simple mission statement, and there's sometimes the feeling that if you've seen one, a lot of others will be similar. Galapagos is a good example of the genre, well worth seeking out for people who love science, nature, or great photography.
The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 5 March 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #5 (first-run)
The title of The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill is not so much deceptive as it is incomplete - although they are unquestionably one of the film's main subjects, equal attention is given to the eccentric man who is their self-appointed caretaker. In many ways, this movie is even more about Mark Bittner than it is about his avian friends.
There are various theories presented as to how San Francisco acquired a flock of South American parrots; some clearly urban legends, with a story a bird-shop owner tells of one of his suppliers losing a shipment has the most credence. Despite being tropical birds, they have managed to eke out a life in this not-always-hospitable city. Bittner points out that they could have survived without him as a justification to his claim that they're wild animals (an amusing early scene has one passerby claiming that they can't truly be wild if they have names). A long-haired one-time musician, Bittner isn't completely domesticated either. His "landlords" say that they don't want to use the term "squatter", but saying that does kind of get it out there. This will be important during the movie's second half.
Read the rest at HBS.
Next on the agenda - three Japanese movies about kids without parents: Tree of Palme, Grave of the Fireflies, and Nobody Knows
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Bollywood/Hollywood: Bride & Prejudice
So far, I think I've seen about four attempts to merge Bollywood and Hollywood sensibilities. They line up thusly:
Bollywood/Hollywood: Pretty bleak; I found it a movie made by someone who had a chip on her shoulder, like she really detested the Bollywood style.
Bride & Prejudice: Decent enough. The script could have used a little more work, but overall an enjoyable two hours.
Monsoon Wedding: Unlike the previous two, it doesn't seem to try to bridge a gap. Indeed, it often feels like an American independent film set in India, not stopping for musical numbers per se, but having the music be a natural part of the movie.
Moulin Rouge: Of course, here Baz Luhrman just threw everything into the blender. A work of demented genius.
So, anyway, the teaser, opportunity to spend money, and link:
width="120"
height="240"
scrolling="no"
marginwidth="0"
marginheight="0"
frameborder="0">
Bride & Prejudice
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 12 February 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #7 (first-run)
Part of what Hollywood does is pillage other film industries. We've been raiding England for most of a century, Australians happily hide their accents to get access to those big Hollywood budgets, and it seemed like half the people making action movies in Hong Kong tried to stick in the US for a while in the nineties. People have completely forgotten that Antonio Banderas and Salma Hayek used to do mainly Spanish-language work, and Paz Vega's first American movie was released last year. Now Hollywood has taken notice of India's booming film industry, and has lured one of "Bollywood"'s most popular actresses over. It's a pity that what appears to be the first in a string of English-language movies for Aishwarya Rai isn't much to write home about.
Bride & Prejudice is built for what seems to be the express purpose of introducing Bollywood to American (and, presumably, British) audiences. On that count, it does a decent job, although it's a somewhat watered-down version of Bollywood. It runs 111 minutes, long for a western romantic comedy, but Hindi movies are frequently an hour longer. There's a small amount of self-parody and pop-culture references thrown in, but they're all from a Western perspective (sure, I understand a joke about American Idol much better than one about its Indian equivalent, but I'd think both would be going on). And the story is adapted from a piece of Western literature, Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice - hence the cute name which I subconsciously keep trying to alliterate to "Bride and Brejudice".
Read the rest at HBS.
Bollywood/Hollywood: Pretty bleak; I found it a movie made by someone who had a chip on her shoulder, like she really detested the Bollywood style.
Bride & Prejudice: Decent enough. The script could have used a little more work, but overall an enjoyable two hours.
Monsoon Wedding: Unlike the previous two, it doesn't seem to try to bridge a gap. Indeed, it often feels like an American independent film set in India, not stopping for musical numbers per se, but having the music be a natural part of the movie.
Moulin Rouge: Of course, here Baz Luhrman just threw everything into the blender. A work of demented genius.
So, anyway, the teaser, opportunity to spend money, and link:
width="120"
height="240"
scrolling="no"
marginwidth="0"
marginheight="0"
frameborder="0">
Bride & Prejudice
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 12 February 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #7 (first-run)
Part of what Hollywood does is pillage other film industries. We've been raiding England for most of a century, Australians happily hide their accents to get access to those big Hollywood budgets, and it seemed like half the people making action movies in Hong Kong tried to stick in the US for a while in the nineties. People have completely forgotten that Antonio Banderas and Salma Hayek used to do mainly Spanish-language work, and Paz Vega's first American movie was released last year. Now Hollywood has taken notice of India's booming film industry, and has lured one of "Bollywood"'s most popular actresses over. It's a pity that what appears to be the first in a string of English-language movies for Aishwarya Rai isn't much to write home about.
Bride & Prejudice is built for what seems to be the express purpose of introducing Bollywood to American (and, presumably, British) audiences. On that count, it does a decent job, although it's a somewhat watered-down version of Bollywood. It runs 111 minutes, long for a western romantic comedy, but Hindi movies are frequently an hour longer. There's a small amount of self-parody and pop-culture references thrown in, but they're all from a Western perspective (sure, I understand a joke about American Idol much better than one about its Indian equivalent, but I'd think both would be going on). And the story is adapted from a piece of Western literature, Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice - hence the cute name which I subconsciously keep trying to alliterate to "Bride and Brejudice".
Read the rest at HBS.
Three from Korea: Jungle Story, Ma Vie en Rose, Memories of Murder
I don't particularly like football; during the Patriots' recent run, I've been mostly indifferent and didn't become a hypocrite on the day of the actual big game. I believe the first year, I hit the Brattle for the Raiders of the Lost Ark/Superman double feature; the year after that it was Irreversible at the Harvard Film Archive - I found myself admiring the people who had the strength of character to walk out, quite honestly. I didn't go out last year, but this year I opted for a double feature at the HFA: Two from Kim Hong-jun, a figure who evidently looms large in contemporary Korean cinema despite having only directed two films in the mid-nineties.
Mr. Kim was also present, and proved to be an amiable speaker. He had about a 50% success rate at making jokes in a foreign language, which is about 49% better than I would be. He mentioned with some pride that Korea was one of about five countries in the world where more than half the movies in theaters were local productions (if I had to guess, I'd say the U.S., India, China, and maybe Japan were the others).
I imagine that it was but a coincidence that the next week brought us a recent Korean hit at the Brattle's Eye-Opener. It was a nice bit of syncronicity, though, with Memories of Murder sharing the same period and outlook as La Vie en Rose.
Anyway... the reviews:
Jungle Story
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 6 February 2005 at the Harvard Film Archive (Global Visions: Korean Cinema)
When someone says "Korea" and "rock and roll" in the same sentence, one thing immediately leaps to mind - bootlegs. That may not be fair, but the picture painted of the local music industry in Jungle Story suggests that the bootlegs don't have much competition. The story of would-be rock star Yun Do-hyun is familiar no matter what country you're from, though.
After all, what's not to understand? Do-hyun has just finished his compulsory military service, but doesn't really know what he wants to do next. College doesn't really interest him, and his parents are losing patience. It's not that he's really passionate about music, but it interests him more than most anything else. Soon, he's moved to Seoul, gotten a job in a guitar store (a tiny space in a sprawling market), and become part of a band. They play a club, he gets spotted. An album is recorded, but not released because it's not what the focus groups say they want. He goes back to his home village, but soon is drawn back to Seoul, even if all he and the rest of the band can afford is a place in a slum known as "the jungle"...
Read the rest at HBS.
La Vie en Rose (Jangmibit Insaeng)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 6 February 2005 at the Harvard Film Archive (Global Visions: Korean Cinema)
The Cold War created a lot of perceptions that, even if they weren't strictly inaccurate, were woefully incomplete. Ask the average American about South Korea as a nation, and he'll probably think of M*A*S*H, and say that it is a Western-allied democracy as opposed to Communist North Korea. True as far as it goes, but for a good chunk of its history, the Republic of Korea could be considered a free democracy mainly in relation to its northern neighbor - if you want to look thin, stand near fat people; if you want to look democratic, stand near Kim Il-Sung.
The description of the movie didn't really hint at any politics, making it looks like nothing more than a story about a petty thug hiding out in a comic book shop. On its face, this 1994 film sounds similar to the pop-culture-soaked gangster movies that Pulp Fiction brought into vogue on this side of the Pacific, but during the time when this movie was set, political dissidents often hid out in these all-night comic rental shops, paying a "midnight charge" (hotels were required to check IDs and alert the police). Native Koreans would know this; being a not-particularly-well-informed American, I needed some catching up. I didn't even suspect that the place wasn't even primarily a comic store until the owner (Choi Myung-kil) purchased comics from a supplier who mentioned not having seen her often.
Read the rest at HBS.
Memories of Murder (Salinui Chueok)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 13 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-Opener) (projected video)
In 1986, the Republic of Korea was confronted with its first known serial killer. We find out during the opening narration of Memories of Murder that South Korea was at the time a military dictatorship, and for the next two hours we are given an object lesson in how a strong, authoritarian government cannot always stop a single, determined criminal.
The nature of the ROK's government at the time is an odd choice as the first piece of information the audience is given, as I imagine most Koreans wouldn't need to be told. I suppose that the younger generation who didn't remember it first hand could use the reminder, but it also serves to focus the viewer's attention on how that impacts the procedural elements of this movie. The principle weapon of law-enforcement in an authoritarian nation is intimidation, and while a climate of fear can deter potential criminals, one who has already gotten away with something is not so easily cowed. And then the cops are left with real police work, which they may not be used to.
Read the rest at HBS.
Mr. Kim was also present, and proved to be an amiable speaker. He had about a 50% success rate at making jokes in a foreign language, which is about 49% better than I would be. He mentioned with some pride that Korea was one of about five countries in the world where more than half the movies in theaters were local productions (if I had to guess, I'd say the U.S., India, China, and maybe Japan were the others).
I imagine that it was but a coincidence that the next week brought us a recent Korean hit at the Brattle's Eye-Opener. It was a nice bit of syncronicity, though, with Memories of Murder sharing the same period and outlook as La Vie en Rose.
Anyway... the reviews:
Jungle Story
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 6 February 2005 at the Harvard Film Archive (Global Visions: Korean Cinema)
When someone says "Korea" and "rock and roll" in the same sentence, one thing immediately leaps to mind - bootlegs. That may not be fair, but the picture painted of the local music industry in Jungle Story suggests that the bootlegs don't have much competition. The story of would-be rock star Yun Do-hyun is familiar no matter what country you're from, though.
After all, what's not to understand? Do-hyun has just finished his compulsory military service, but doesn't really know what he wants to do next. College doesn't really interest him, and his parents are losing patience. It's not that he's really passionate about music, but it interests him more than most anything else. Soon, he's moved to Seoul, gotten a job in a guitar store (a tiny space in a sprawling market), and become part of a band. They play a club, he gets spotted. An album is recorded, but not released because it's not what the focus groups say they want. He goes back to his home village, but soon is drawn back to Seoul, even if all he and the rest of the band can afford is a place in a slum known as "the jungle"...
Read the rest at HBS.
La Vie en Rose (Jangmibit Insaeng)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 6 February 2005 at the Harvard Film Archive (Global Visions: Korean Cinema)
The Cold War created a lot of perceptions that, even if they weren't strictly inaccurate, were woefully incomplete. Ask the average American about South Korea as a nation, and he'll probably think of M*A*S*H, and say that it is a Western-allied democracy as opposed to Communist North Korea. True as far as it goes, but for a good chunk of its history, the Republic of Korea could be considered a free democracy mainly in relation to its northern neighbor - if you want to look thin, stand near fat people; if you want to look democratic, stand near Kim Il-Sung.
The description of the movie didn't really hint at any politics, making it looks like nothing more than a story about a petty thug hiding out in a comic book shop. On its face, this 1994 film sounds similar to the pop-culture-soaked gangster movies that Pulp Fiction brought into vogue on this side of the Pacific, but during the time when this movie was set, political dissidents often hid out in these all-night comic rental shops, paying a "midnight charge" (hotels were required to check IDs and alert the police). Native Koreans would know this; being a not-particularly-well-informed American, I needed some catching up. I didn't even suspect that the place wasn't even primarily a comic store until the owner (Choi Myung-kil) purchased comics from a supplier who mentioned not having seen her often.
Read the rest at HBS.
Memories of Murder (Salinui Chueok)
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 13 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-Opener) (projected video)
In 1986, the Republic of Korea was confronted with its first known serial killer. We find out during the opening narration of Memories of Murder that South Korea was at the time a military dictatorship, and for the next two hours we are given an object lesson in how a strong, authoritarian government cannot always stop a single, determined criminal.
The nature of the ROK's government at the time is an odd choice as the first piece of information the audience is given, as I imagine most Koreans wouldn't need to be told. I suppose that the younger generation who didn't remember it first hand could use the reminder, but it also serves to focus the viewer's attention on how that impacts the procedural elements of this movie. The principle weapon of law-enforcement in an authoritarian nation is intimidation, and while a climate of fear can deter potential criminals, one who has already gotten away with something is not so easily cowed. And then the cops are left with real police work, which they may not be used to.
Read the rest at HBS.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Starting to get caught up: The Merchant of Venice and Witnesses
I haven't stopped seeing movies (not by a long shot!), but a few things have held back my ability to write about them in a timely manner: Mainly, my job moved to a spot even further into Waltham (actually, probably almost to the point of coming out the other side), which means rather than twenty minutes on trains every day plus ten minutes of walking/waiting, we're looking at fifty minutes on the bus. Not only is that an hour sucked out of my day, but it's also a lot harder to open up the laptop and write someting on the bus than the train.
So, bear with me while I catch up over the next few days - I think I've got eight movies to review before getting to the fifteen-movie Boston Science Fiction Film Festival/Marathon. And I may rearrange the order of some of these - not much, but just enough to put the three Korean movies together as a sort of theme posting.
(Oh, and thanks to whoever bought some stuff. Remember, any money I earn from Amazon goes into more movies purchased and reviewed, giving you more to read.)
Anyway, reviews. If we're going to have explicit themes for the next few posts, then let's call this "ethnic conflict in Europe, past and present":
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The Merchant of Venice
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 5 February 2005 at Landmark Kendal Square #8 (first-run)
So, here's what we have: A well-cast, good-looking, nicely shot adaptation of one of Shakespeare's most famous plays, which is both faithful to the text and placed in its historical context. The catch here is that that play is The Merchant of Venice, which the march of years has made the most problematic of The Bard's "problem comedies". The anti-semitism smacks the modern viewer in the face under the best of circumstances, and director Michael Radford opts to be heavy-handed with it.
For a playwright less revered than Shakespeare, someone staging a modern adaptation might perhaps remove dialogue stating that Shylock is Jewish, or downplay that aspect of the character, or remove some of the vindictiveness from the courtroom scene. But this is Shakespeare, and while it may be necessary to streamline a play in order to fit it into the approximately two hours a movie is expected to run, and a director may opt to place it within another time period, changing the words themselves would be considered almost sacrieligious. The irony being that a play initially meant to be a crowd-pleaser, as most of Shakespeare's work was, becomes thoroughly unpleasant by the end.
Read the rest at HBS
Witnesses (Svjedoci)
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 6 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-Opener) (projected video)
Witnesses isn't really a war movie. It's got some thoughts on combat, soldiers, the homefront, and how war can sap the humanity from the entire country, and they're good ones, but nothing revelatory. As the name suggests, though, the war mostly acts as a backdrop for a crime story. And once you strip away the need for greater meaning, the end result is fairly solid.
There aren't many tears shed over a murder that takes place in a Croation village during the 1991-1995 war for independence. The victim is not Croation, and lives in a large house paid for via war profiteering. An army unit comprised mostly of local soldiers is in town, so there's no shortage of people who could have committed the crime. It also means that nobody is particularly willing to help; the investigating detective, Babir (Drazen Kuhn), is berated when he asks questions of neighbors - what does it matter who killed one Serbian? And, truth be told, he's distracted; his wife lies in a coma, shrapnel lodged in her brain. The only person who seems to actually be interested in solving the case is a pretty reporter (Alma Prica), who notices that a man alone likely would not have had chocolate-coated cereal as his last meal.
Read the rest at HBS
So, bear with me while I catch up over the next few days - I think I've got eight movies to review before getting to the fifteen-movie Boston Science Fiction Film Festival/Marathon. And I may rearrange the order of some of these - not much, but just enough to put the three Korean movies together as a sort of theme posting.
(Oh, and thanks to whoever bought some stuff. Remember, any money I earn from Amazon goes into more movies purchased and reviewed, giving you more to read.)
Anyway, reviews. If we're going to have explicit themes for the next few posts, then let's call this "ethnic conflict in Europe, past and present":
width="120" height="240" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0">
The Merchant of Venice
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 5 February 2005 at Landmark Kendal Square #8 (first-run)
So, here's what we have: A well-cast, good-looking, nicely shot adaptation of one of Shakespeare's most famous plays, which is both faithful to the text and placed in its historical context. The catch here is that that play is The Merchant of Venice, which the march of years has made the most problematic of The Bard's "problem comedies". The anti-semitism smacks the modern viewer in the face under the best of circumstances, and director Michael Radford opts to be heavy-handed with it.
For a playwright less revered than Shakespeare, someone staging a modern adaptation might perhaps remove dialogue stating that Shylock is Jewish, or downplay that aspect of the character, or remove some of the vindictiveness from the courtroom scene. But this is Shakespeare, and while it may be necessary to streamline a play in order to fit it into the approximately two hours a movie is expected to run, and a director may opt to place it within another time period, changing the words themselves would be considered almost sacrieligious. The irony being that a play initially meant to be a crowd-pleaser, as most of Shakespeare's work was, becomes thoroughly unpleasant by the end.
Read the rest at HBS
Witnesses (Svjedoci)
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 6 February 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-Opener) (projected video)
Witnesses isn't really a war movie. It's got some thoughts on combat, soldiers, the homefront, and how war can sap the humanity from the entire country, and they're good ones, but nothing revelatory. As the name suggests, though, the war mostly acts as a backdrop for a crime story. And once you strip away the need for greater meaning, the end result is fairly solid.
There aren't many tears shed over a murder that takes place in a Croation village during the 1991-1995 war for independence. The victim is not Croation, and lives in a large house paid for via war profiteering. An army unit comprised mostly of local soldiers is in town, so there's no shortage of people who could have committed the crime. It also means that nobody is particularly willing to help; the investigating detective, Babir (Drazen Kuhn), is berated when he asks questions of neighbors - what does it matter who killed one Serbian? And, truth be told, he's distracted; his wife lies in a coma, shrapnel lodged in her brain. The only person who seems to actually be interested in solving the case is a pretty reporter (Alma Prica), who notices that a man alone likely would not have had chocolate-coated cereal as his last meal.
Read the rest at HBS
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Star Trek: Enterprise cancelled
The link.
So, this throws a monkey-wrench into the "Franchise Friday" overview I was going to write for HBS this week, doesn't it? I think I'll still write it, because I am sort of uncomfortable with the homogeneity and lack of cool ideas in the four sci-fi shows that air that night, but there will have to be some more analysis of what led to this.
Personally, I think you can't redefine a franchise as often as Star Trek has in the past four years without shedding many more fans than you pick up. Enterprise was a tough sell in the first place, with a lot of fans saying "the past" (relative to Jean-Luc Picard, I guess) had no interesting stories to tell. For the first two years, they lurched between standard Trek fare with a nifty design sense and a frighteningly ill-conceived "temporal cold war" story arc. Then, for the third season, they went with the nearly-as-bad Xindi story. Then, finally, this season they packed the Xindi and TCW away and went with telling prequel stories to classic Original Series stuff.
Changing a series's direction is an act of desperation. For all the times it works, there are about a dozen times it simply drives part of the existing audience away and doesn't entice a new audience, because they already know they don't like the pre-change series and either don't know about the new direction or figure it's not new enough. Pull it enough times, and you'll whittle your core audience down to nothing, even if the end result - Enterprise's fourth season - is the strongest Trek to be captured on film/video since the end of Deep Space Nine. For the first time in its run, Enterprise is a show that I'll actually miss now that it's gone.
Granted, all that's been announced is that UPN won't be running Enterprise come September; it could hypothetically show up on Spike or Sci-Fi, but I doubt it. The question now is, how long will Paramount keep Star Trek on ice?
I'm guessing two years, at which point they'll notice that the ancillary merchandise for everything but The Next Generation isn't selling at all now that the show isn't "current" any more. Hopefully, they'll still have Manny Coto's phone number, because he's done great work on Enterprise this year, and deserves a chance to show what he can do without the fanbase burned out on what Rick Bermand and Brannon Braga have made a once-great franchise into.
And as for B&B, good luck finding work. You'll notice the DS9 people have been more or less constantly employed since their show ended, but B&B don't have their good reputation any more. That's what comes of holding on to the goose who lays the golden eggs so long and so tight that you eventually strangle it.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Busy week - Purple Butterfly, Hide & Seek, Ray, Monsieur N.
But, hey, at least my employers know that I've been working rather than writing movie reviews on the laptop, right?
So, anyway, seeing Ray doesn't change my Oscar hopes/predictions much; I think it's got a shot at Best Editing, but I don't know if it would bump anything else. I was worried before that Jamie Foxx would take some attention of Don Cheadle, and now I'm sure of it. Of course, the voters will probably just go Aviator-stupid anyway.
So, I'll keep it brief and leave the jokes in the Amazon links (if they don't make me money, they may as well amuse me, right?).
Purple Butterfly (Zi hudie)
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 26 January 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Special Engagements)
Yes, America, Zhang Ziyi does in fact do movies other than art-house martial arts flicks. Take, for instance, Purple Butterfly, the new film from Lou Ye (director of the well-regarded Shinzou River), which features no kung fu at all. It may not quite reach the heights of Shakespearean tragedy to which it aspires, but if it's a failure, it's an interesting, ambitious one.
The movie opens in 1928 Manchuria, where Ziying's Cynthia is a pigtailed student. There's some tension with her brother and his friends associates because of her Japanese boyfriend, Hidehiko Itami (Toru Nakamura); they publish a newsletter urging people to boycott Japanese goods. When Itami returns home, the ice thaws a bit, right before she witnesses her brother accosted by an angry Japanese man with a knife, as well as something worse.
Read the rest at HBS.
Hide and Seek
* ½ (out of four)
Seen 27 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #14 (sneak preview)
Are they serious? All that hype about shipping the last reel seperately and numbering them so that they could track down where any leaks of the film's ending came from, the frisking we had to go through to make sure none of us had camera phones... For this ending?
Hide and Seek doesn't quite suck enough to displace White Noise as the worst movie of the young year - it's not quite so aggressively stupid - but it's pretty awful. It does the one thing that is unforgivable in a thriller - the thing which earns a negative mark from me on principle, meaning that even if the plot weren't full of holes and a talented cast didn't all manage to simultaneously give some of the worst performances of their careers, I'd still have walked out of the theater angry: It lies to its audience.
Read the rest at HBS.
Ray
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 January 2005 at Somerville Theatre #2 (second-run) (Oscar catch-up)
Ray doesn't quite avoid the pitfall that destroys most biopics; it's quite willing to reduce a complicated life to a simple theme. In this case, that theme is Ray Charles's mother told him not to let anything make him a cripple, but he eventually had to overcome heroin addiction in order to make good on that. It's still an enjoyable movie, though, because around the life lesson we're expected to extract from the subject's life, there's a bunch of little details.
Little things like name-dropping Tom Dowd. Only a small group of music experts and what meager group of us saw Tom Dowd and the Language of Music would likely notice if they got the name of Atlantic's recording engineer wrong, but they get it right. Would that more movies realized that paying attention to details has no downside, and the upside that the people in the audience who care about these details look upon the movie more favorably.
Read the rest at HBS.
Monsieur N.
* ¾ (out of four)
Seen 30 January 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-opener) (projected video)
Yep, you know it's January when not just the major studios, but the smaller indie distributors are dumping their less-than-stellar works, in hopes of getting some business from the people who saw everything in December and maybe, just maybe, a favorable blurb to put on the DVD cover a couple months down the road. The latter, at least, they will not be getting here.
Napoleon Bonaparte is a figure whose stature very soon became bigger than mere history and entered the realm of the mythological. As Ivy Moylun, the leader of our post-film discussion at the Brattle Theater's Sunday Eye-Opener series pointed out, he's rather like Elvis Presley in America, in that many preferred to invent a more fitting last act to their lives than what they had; a man whose armies marched from the Atlantic to Moscow deserves not to die in ignominious exile. Even if they don't have a grand finale, surely there should be one final, lost adventure, akin to Bruce Campbell as Elvis in Bubba Ho-Tep. Sadly, Monsieur N is no Bubba Ho-Tep.
(And though that comparison is nerdy enough to be mine, it's Ivy's. Credit/blame where it's due.)
Read the rest at HBS.
So, anyway, seeing Ray doesn't change my Oscar hopes/predictions much; I think it's got a shot at Best Editing, but I don't know if it would bump anything else. I was worried before that Jamie Foxx would take some attention of Don Cheadle, and now I'm sure of it. Of course, the voters will probably just go Aviator-stupid anyway.
So, I'll keep it brief and leave the jokes in the Amazon links (if they don't make me money, they may as well amuse me, right?).
Purple Butterfly (Zi hudie)
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 26 January 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Special Engagements)
Yes, America, Zhang Ziyi does in fact do movies other than art-house martial arts flicks. Take, for instance, Purple Butterfly, the new film from Lou Ye (director of the well-regarded Shinzou River), which features no kung fu at all. It may not quite reach the heights of Shakespearean tragedy to which it aspires, but if it's a failure, it's an interesting, ambitious one.
The movie opens in 1928 Manchuria, where Ziying's Cynthia is a pigtailed student. There's some tension with her brother and his friends associates because of her Japanese boyfriend, Hidehiko Itami (Toru Nakamura); they publish a newsletter urging people to boycott Japanese goods. When Itami returns home, the ice thaws a bit, right before she witnesses her brother accosted by an angry Japanese man with a knife, as well as something worse.
Read the rest at HBS.
Hide and Seek
* ½ (out of four)
Seen 27 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #14 (sneak preview)
Are they serious? All that hype about shipping the last reel seperately and numbering them so that they could track down where any leaks of the film's ending came from, the frisking we had to go through to make sure none of us had camera phones... For this ending?
Hide and Seek doesn't quite suck enough to displace White Noise as the worst movie of the young year - it's not quite so aggressively stupid - but it's pretty awful. It does the one thing that is unforgivable in a thriller - the thing which earns a negative mark from me on principle, meaning that even if the plot weren't full of holes and a talented cast didn't all manage to simultaneously give some of the worst performances of their careers, I'd still have walked out of the theater angry: It lies to its audience.
Read the rest at HBS.
Ray
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 January 2005 at Somerville Theatre #2 (second-run) (Oscar catch-up)
Ray doesn't quite avoid the pitfall that destroys most biopics; it's quite willing to reduce a complicated life to a simple theme. In this case, that theme is Ray Charles's mother told him not to let anything make him a cripple, but he eventually had to overcome heroin addiction in order to make good on that. It's still an enjoyable movie, though, because around the life lesson we're expected to extract from the subject's life, there's a bunch of little details.
Little things like name-dropping Tom Dowd. Only a small group of music experts and what meager group of us saw Tom Dowd and the Language of Music would likely notice if they got the name of Atlantic's recording engineer wrong, but they get it right. Would that more movies realized that paying attention to details has no downside, and the upside that the people in the audience who care about these details look upon the movie more favorably.
Read the rest at HBS.
Monsieur N.
* ¾ (out of four)
Seen 30 January 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-opener) (projected video)
Yep, you know it's January when not just the major studios, but the smaller indie distributors are dumping their less-than-stellar works, in hopes of getting some business from the people who saw everything in December and maybe, just maybe, a favorable blurb to put on the DVD cover a couple months down the road. The latter, at least, they will not be getting here.
Napoleon Bonaparte is a figure whose stature very soon became bigger than mere history and entered the realm of the mythological. As Ivy Moylun, the leader of our post-film discussion at the Brattle Theater's Sunday Eye-Opener series pointed out, he's rather like Elvis Presley in America, in that many preferred to invent a more fitting last act to their lives than what they had; a man whose armies marched from the Atlantic to Moscow deserves not to die in ignominious exile. Even if they don't have a grand finale, surely there should be one final, lost adventure, akin to Bruce Campbell as Elvis in Bubba Ho-Tep. Sadly, Monsieur N is no Bubba Ho-Tep.
(And though that comparison is nerdy enough to be mine, it's Ivy's. Credit/blame where it's due.)
Read the rest at HBS.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
REVIEW: Blackmail
(No entry on HBS for Blackmail yet, so the whole thing will be posted here)
* * * ½ (out of four) (silent version)
Seen 22 January 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (CRASHarts presents the Alloy Orcestra)
Alfred Hitchcock is known best as "the Master of Suspense", and justifiably so. That title doesn't capture the totality of his genius, of course. For example, he also was adept at handling new technology - this picture was originally shot as a silent, with parts later re-shot for sound. But perhaps the thing that best defines Hitchcock aside from his work as a director of thrillers is his skill at black, mordant comedy.
Blackmail isn't really a comedy, but it benefits from Hitchcock's skills in that area. It's a fairly simple, straightforward story, but it demonstrates that the skills which would make Hitchcock arguably the twentieth century's greatest filmmaker were present and refined from the very beginning.
As the movie opens, we meet Alice White (Anny Ondra) and Frank Webber (John Longden), a young couple who have been dating for a while. Webber is a dedicated detective at Scotland Yard; Alice's parents own a newsstand in Chelsea. Work makes Frank late for the night's date, which gets Alice snippy; at the restaurant, she catches the eye of an artist. They return to his studio, he attempts to have his way with her, and she kills him in self-defense. When Webber is sent to investigate the next morning, he finds her glove. Fortunately, there are witness reports of a prowler, and the artist had an appointment with a man with a criminal record... who later shows up at the Whites' newsstand with extortion on his mind.
It's not surprising that this movie later became a talkie; even in this original, silent version, the performances are relatively low-key, not as full of the histrionics and theatricality that often characterized silents. Ms. Ondra makes Alice more than a bit of a brat, initially, but is convincingly frightened and guilty later on. Longden is kind of stiff as Webber; we're led to believe he's an extremely dedicated police officer, but never seems terribly conflicted about his desire to cover Alice's involvement up. Donald Calthrop is delightfully unctuous as Tracy, the petty crook attempting to blackmail the couple, and Cyril Ritchard is quite good as the artist, smoothly moving from charm to malevolence. Hitchcock has an amusing cameo as a man on the subway being pestered by an unruly child.
The story, adapted by Hitchcock from a play by Charles Bennett, is told in a straightforward, linear fashion, but is, at its heart, delightfully perverse: It encourages the audience to cheer for a police officer attempting to frame an innocent man for the murder his girlfriend committed. Certainly, we are told that Tracy has a long criminal record, and has perhaps escaped justice for previous crimes, and there can be little doubt that Alice acted in self-defense, but still, one can't help but ask oneself if the deception was really necessary, if perhaps this could all have been avoided by simply telling the truth from the get-go. It's a tribute to the movie that this doesn't feel like an idiot plot, but instead the believable actions of young people trying to avoid a scandal. (Then again, that's me in 2005 saying this. In 1928, a young woman in the apartment of someone other than her boyfriend might be viewed as getting what's coming to her; "no means no" wasn't nearly as pervsive an attitude as it is now.)
Hitchcock's direction is rock-solid, even so early in his career. He manipulates mood perfectly, bringing us from one extreme to the other with lightning dispatch without it ever feeling jarring. Take, for instance, Alice in the artist's apartment. The mood is initially playful, but evolves into violence rather quickly. Hitchcock is able to imply a great deal of brutality even as the actual assault happens behind a curtain. It's one of three well-done set pieces Hitchcock gives us in under an hour and a half; the others involve Webber: Closing in on a criminal whose mirror provides him a view of the approaching policemen, and chasing Tracy through the British Museum.
It's not just the action that is well-done, though - the scenes in the restaurant are blessed with almost perfect comic timing, broken up only by the need for intertitles, and the post-chase sequence is darkly funny, loaded with double and triple meanings. And though the later addition of sound is the movie's most well-known technical innovation, there is one scene in a stairwell, following Alice and the artist in a continuous side-view as they climb the stairs, that is remarkably distinctive. The vertical motion is unusual, and this one scene must have required the construction of a tall set along with a sort of elevator apparatus so that the camera could follow the actors. It's a reminder that Hitchcock could have been an engineer as well as an artist if he hadn't broken into the movie business.
The film's history is a little fuzzy; before introducing the Alloy Orchestra, the host claimed that Blackmail was released as a silent in 1928 before being partially reshot and expanded to include sound, although I couldn't find any other evidence of this initial silent release. Still, silent prints were made, and it is that cut that the Alloy Orchestra accompanied. Their score is, as always, highly enjoyable - it's a subtler, less percussive score than some of the others I've seen them perform (I'm thinking of The General and The Black Pirate here), but it works for the movie. They're creating the movie's entire soundtrack, so in addition to a straight score and obvious sound effects like a ringing bell, they also have to creat the illusion of ambient noise. It winds up working remarkably well, and it's something not many other groups do so well (or even at all).
I've got one of those quasi-legal Laserlight DVDs of the sound version of Blackmail on my shelf, though it's got a few other movies stacked up in front of it. It'll be interesting to compare it to this version sometime; at least I know it'll be good.
* * * ½ (out of four) (silent version)
Seen 22 January 2005 at Somerville Theater #1 (CRASHarts presents the Alloy Orcestra)
Alfred Hitchcock is known best as "the Master of Suspense", and justifiably so. That title doesn't capture the totality of his genius, of course. For example, he also was adept at handling new technology - this picture was originally shot as a silent, with parts later re-shot for sound. But perhaps the thing that best defines Hitchcock aside from his work as a director of thrillers is his skill at black, mordant comedy.
Blackmail isn't really a comedy, but it benefits from Hitchcock's skills in that area. It's a fairly simple, straightforward story, but it demonstrates that the skills which would make Hitchcock arguably the twentieth century's greatest filmmaker were present and refined from the very beginning.
As the movie opens, we meet Alice White (Anny Ondra) and Frank Webber (John Longden), a young couple who have been dating for a while. Webber is a dedicated detective at Scotland Yard; Alice's parents own a newsstand in Chelsea. Work makes Frank late for the night's date, which gets Alice snippy; at the restaurant, she catches the eye of an artist. They return to his studio, he attempts to have his way with her, and she kills him in self-defense. When Webber is sent to investigate the next morning, he finds her glove. Fortunately, there are witness reports of a prowler, and the artist had an appointment with a man with a criminal record... who later shows up at the Whites' newsstand with extortion on his mind.
It's not surprising that this movie later became a talkie; even in this original, silent version, the performances are relatively low-key, not as full of the histrionics and theatricality that often characterized silents. Ms. Ondra makes Alice more than a bit of a brat, initially, but is convincingly frightened and guilty later on. Longden is kind of stiff as Webber; we're led to believe he's an extremely dedicated police officer, but never seems terribly conflicted about his desire to cover Alice's involvement up. Donald Calthrop is delightfully unctuous as Tracy, the petty crook attempting to blackmail the couple, and Cyril Ritchard is quite good as the artist, smoothly moving from charm to malevolence. Hitchcock has an amusing cameo as a man on the subway being pestered by an unruly child.
The story, adapted by Hitchcock from a play by Charles Bennett, is told in a straightforward, linear fashion, but is, at its heart, delightfully perverse: It encourages the audience to cheer for a police officer attempting to frame an innocent man for the murder his girlfriend committed. Certainly, we are told that Tracy has a long criminal record, and has perhaps escaped justice for previous crimes, and there can be little doubt that Alice acted in self-defense, but still, one can't help but ask oneself if the deception was really necessary, if perhaps this could all have been avoided by simply telling the truth from the get-go. It's a tribute to the movie that this doesn't feel like an idiot plot, but instead the believable actions of young people trying to avoid a scandal. (Then again, that's me in 2005 saying this. In 1928, a young woman in the apartment of someone other than her boyfriend might be viewed as getting what's coming to her; "no means no" wasn't nearly as pervsive an attitude as it is now.)
Hitchcock's direction is rock-solid, even so early in his career. He manipulates mood perfectly, bringing us from one extreme to the other with lightning dispatch without it ever feeling jarring. Take, for instance, Alice in the artist's apartment. The mood is initially playful, but evolves into violence rather quickly. Hitchcock is able to imply a great deal of brutality even as the actual assault happens behind a curtain. It's one of three well-done set pieces Hitchcock gives us in under an hour and a half; the others involve Webber: Closing in on a criminal whose mirror provides him a view of the approaching policemen, and chasing Tracy through the British Museum.
It's not just the action that is well-done, though - the scenes in the restaurant are blessed with almost perfect comic timing, broken up only by the need for intertitles, and the post-chase sequence is darkly funny, loaded with double and triple meanings. And though the later addition of sound is the movie's most well-known technical innovation, there is one scene in a stairwell, following Alice and the artist in a continuous side-view as they climb the stairs, that is remarkably distinctive. The vertical motion is unusual, and this one scene must have required the construction of a tall set along with a sort of elevator apparatus so that the camera could follow the actors. It's a reminder that Hitchcock could have been an engineer as well as an artist if he hadn't broken into the movie business.
The film's history is a little fuzzy; before introducing the Alloy Orchestra, the host claimed that Blackmail was released as a silent in 1928 before being partially reshot and expanded to include sound, although I couldn't find any other evidence of this initial silent release. Still, silent prints were made, and it is that cut that the Alloy Orchestra accompanied. Their score is, as always, highly enjoyable - it's a subtler, less percussive score than some of the others I've seen them perform (I'm thinking of The General and The Black Pirate here), but it works for the movie. They're creating the movie's entire soundtrack, so in addition to a straight score and obvious sound effects like a ringing bell, they also have to creat the illusion of ambient noise. It winds up working remarkably well, and it's something not many other groups do so well (or even at all).
I've got one of those quasi-legal Laserlight DVDs of the sound version of Blackmail on my shelf, though it's got a few other movies stacked up in front of it. It'll be interesting to compare it to this version sometime; at least I know it'll be good.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
So, the Oscar nominees have been announced - what does that mean to ME?
A quick handicapping of this morning's announcements (which happened while I was trying to get the supermarket to take a personal check because Citizens Bank's ATM ate my card last week and their claims that "I could pick it up the next day" and "we'll express you a new one right away" were, apparently, lies):
Best Actor
I've seen all except Ray; if I had a vote, it would be for Don Cheadle. They're all good performances, although I personally wish there was a place for Jim Carrey here. It can be for Eternal Sunshine, or someone could go out on a limb and say, yes, A Series of Unfortunate Events was a hilarious movie because Jim Carrey was painfully funny. So was Bill Murray in The Life Aquatic.
Best Supporting Actor
Seen all but Closer; I'd vote for Thomas Haden Church, which astounds me. He's Lowell from Wings, for crying out loud. Jamie Foxx is a lead, Alan Alda was hamming it up as much as anyone in The Aviator, and Freeman was pretty good.
Best Actress
I haven't seen either Being Julia or Vera Drake, and I suspect the latter might be this year's Chicago for me - the one I see because it's up for awards, but have no enthusiasm for and thus dislike more than I should. All three reamining actresses were great; I'm pulling for Ms. Moreno right now.
Best Supporting Actress
Even if I see Kinsey and Closer, I can't see anyone being better than Virginia Madsen. She got one of the year's best roles and ran with it. Kind of surprised there's no place for Téa Leoni here, unless the rest of the actors couldn't get past her being Téa Leoni.
Best Animated Feature
Uh, it's The Incredibles. It's not even close. It's a sign of the weakness of the category that Shark Take is even in the picture - I'd replace it with Ghost In The Shell 2 or even Kaena: The Prophecy, but I wouldn't vote for either of them.
Best Art Direction
For all it's many, many, many, many faults, The Aviator was beautiful. I wasn't terribly impressed with with the look of A Series of Unfortunate Events (hey, it's another movie that wants to look like Dark City, only this time for kids!), and there is no way I go to see Phantom of the Opera. Really, the academy shouldn't be encouraging Joel Schumacher like this. Finding Neverland is pretty, though. I will talk more about the most glaring omission under "Visual Effects".
Another note: I'd love to see an animated film get nominated here sometime. There's more creativity in the design work for something like The Incredibles or even Shark Tale than in most live-action features, but I imagine they'll never be nominated because the people involved aren't in the same guild.
Best Cinematography
Haven't seen The Passion or The Phatnom. The other three all impressed me in different ways; my gut says I want House of Flying Daggers to win because I enjoyed the movie the most.
Best Costume Design
Haven't seen Ray or Troy. Both The Aviator and Neverland looked spiffy, but it's also "just" photo-referenceable period dress. On the other hand, Unfortunate Events's costumes were creative but off-putting. I'll have to see the others.
Best Director
Still need to see Ray and Vera Drake. For right now, I'm pulling for Clint - The Aviator was a mess, and Sideways, while quite good, isn't quite as accomplished a job as Million Dollar Baby.
Although, pardon me while I fly my geek flag, but... Sam Raimi. If he can be nominated for A Simple Plan, why not for something just as good (if not better) and even more technically demanding? It's as if the voters assume that all the decisions involving visual effects really are handled by a computer, and the people involved just do what the computer tells them. I know it make me sound like an incredible fanboy to say that Sam Raimi deserves Martin Scorcese's nomination, but what did Scorcese do with The Aviator that Raimi didn't do better making Spider-Man 2?
Best Documentary Feature/Short Subject
Haven't seen any of 'em, not even Super Size Me (documentarians pointing the camera at themselves a la Michael Moore doesn't strike me as a positive trend at all). These categories are usually decided by subject matter, anyway... Which makes me wonder why Control Room wasn't nominated.
Best Film Editing
It's tough to notice when this is good, unless it's done in a way that is wholly unique, like The Hulk or Pulp Fiction. Or, you know, Kill Bill Volume 2. I'd go with Collateral, because thrillers have to do more with their editing - they have to crank up suspense and establish geography better than non-genre films.
Best Foreign Language Film
Haven't seen any of these. Now that a significant number of foreign movies are getting released in the US, the special voting rules need to go. I'll basically be rooting against The Sea Inside, just because I strongly disagree with its premise in principle.
Best Makeup
I've only seen A Series of Unfortunate Events. Yeah, they did good.
Best Musical Score
I haven't seen The Passion, but more importantly... Where the hell is The Incredibles? They can't seriously have nominated John Williams repeating themes and reverting to predictability after his last couple of nifty Spielberg scores over The Incredibles, could they?
Best Original Song
Okay, I've only seen Shrek 2, and wasn't impressed with that song. And I've made my peace with "The Montage Song" from Team America being ineligible. But there were other great songs in that movie, too. Wusses.
Best Short Film, Animated/Live Action
Goose eggs here, too. And it looks like the Coolidge's "We've got Oscar's Shorts" program is a no-show this year. Dangit.
Best Sound Editing/Mixing
Haven't seen The Polar Express or Ray, and I've got a completely useless "ear".
Best Visual Effects
This list can't be right, you see, because Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow isn't on it. Seriously, guys - does anyone remember anything exceptionally cool in Harry Potter? No, not really. Spidey 2 was nice and well-integrated, and well-worthy of a nomination. The Will Smith Robot Movie was okay, but it did nothing that Sky Captain didn't do a thousand times over.
That Sky Captain has managed to more or less come and go without being huge astounds me. It's a fun movie, with love and attention to detail painstakingly applied to every frame. It's the next huge leap forward, just as The Phantom Menace was five years earlier, and the lack of love for it is similarly galling. The only explanation is that the Academy thinks of it as an animated picture that live-action characters have been inserted into, and in that case, it should definitely be displacing Shark Tale.
Also - The Life Aquatic. Pretty darn seemless for its style, and among the year's most beautiful. What's this award supposed to celebrate if neither Sky Captain nor The Life Aquatic gets nominated - not innovation, not creativity, not just being outstanding. What?
Best Adapted Screenplay
These are trick categories, because few of the voters have actually read the screenplay, and just see the finished product which has had scenes rearranged in the editing room, been improvised over, etc. Of what I've seen, I'd give the nod to Finding Neverland. I'm also very skeptical about Before Sunset belonging here - where, I ask, was the story it was based on previously published, produced, or performed?
Best Original Screenplay
Okay, maybe I dislike The Aviator more than most, but that's just not a good movie... My first, second, and third thoughts are that if something other than Eternal Sunshine wins, there should be an investigation.
What I need to do
Well, obviously, seeing Ray is at the top of the list; I'll probably hit the Somerville sometime this week even though it comes out on DVD next Tuesday.
There are four movies with three nominations that I haven't seen. I've been intending to see The Polar Express just for the "pretty 3-D" aspect, although I'm not sure if the Aquarium will have it past Thursday since James Cameron's new IMAX 3-D picture actually has something to do with marine life. Vera Drake is a maybe; I just haven't been able to muster any enthusiasm. Both The Phantom of the Opera and The Passion of the Christ are in the "hell, no" category for different reasons - I had enough of Phantom when my brother Dan and I shared a room back in Junior High, and religion and me just don't mix.
There are two movies with two nominations that I haven't seen. Both Closer and The Motorcycle Diaries have looked good, but haven't drawn me in.
Of the singles, I'm most likely to see Kinsey and Being Julia. I'm hoping that there's an opportunity to see the shorts and documentaries - there have been in previous years (Coolidge's program and a set of screenings that hopped from the Coolidge to Harvard to who knows where for the docs).
Of the stuff that is not nominated... Well, you've got to figure Bad Education won't be hanging around much longer now.
So, guess I've got some movies to see if I want to complain with authority.
Best Actor
I've seen all except Ray; if I had a vote, it would be for Don Cheadle. They're all good performances, although I personally wish there was a place for Jim Carrey here. It can be for Eternal Sunshine, or someone could go out on a limb and say, yes, A Series of Unfortunate Events was a hilarious movie because Jim Carrey was painfully funny. So was Bill Murray in The Life Aquatic.
Best Supporting Actor
Seen all but Closer; I'd vote for Thomas Haden Church, which astounds me. He's Lowell from Wings, for crying out loud. Jamie Foxx is a lead, Alan Alda was hamming it up as much as anyone in The Aviator, and Freeman was pretty good.
Best Actress
I haven't seen either Being Julia or Vera Drake, and I suspect the latter might be this year's Chicago for me - the one I see because it's up for awards, but have no enthusiasm for and thus dislike more than I should. All three reamining actresses were great; I'm pulling for Ms. Moreno right now.
Best Supporting Actress
Even if I see Kinsey and Closer, I can't see anyone being better than Virginia Madsen. She got one of the year's best roles and ran with it. Kind of surprised there's no place for Téa Leoni here, unless the rest of the actors couldn't get past her being Téa Leoni.
Best Animated Feature
Uh, it's The Incredibles. It's not even close. It's a sign of the weakness of the category that Shark Take is even in the picture - I'd replace it with Ghost In The Shell 2 or even Kaena: The Prophecy, but I wouldn't vote for either of them.
Best Art Direction
For all it's many, many, many, many faults, The Aviator was beautiful. I wasn't terribly impressed with with the look of A Series of Unfortunate Events (hey, it's another movie that wants to look like Dark City, only this time for kids!), and there is no way I go to see Phantom of the Opera. Really, the academy shouldn't be encouraging Joel Schumacher like this. Finding Neverland is pretty, though. I will talk more about the most glaring omission under "Visual Effects".
Another note: I'd love to see an animated film get nominated here sometime. There's more creativity in the design work for something like The Incredibles or even Shark Tale than in most live-action features, but I imagine they'll never be nominated because the people involved aren't in the same guild.
Best Cinematography
Haven't seen The Passion or The Phatnom. The other three all impressed me in different ways; my gut says I want House of Flying Daggers to win because I enjoyed the movie the most.
Best Costume Design
Haven't seen Ray or Troy. Both The Aviator and Neverland looked spiffy, but it's also "just" photo-referenceable period dress. On the other hand, Unfortunate Events's costumes were creative but off-putting. I'll have to see the others.
Best Director
Still need to see Ray and Vera Drake. For right now, I'm pulling for Clint - The Aviator was a mess, and Sideways, while quite good, isn't quite as accomplished a job as Million Dollar Baby.
Although, pardon me while I fly my geek flag, but... Sam Raimi. If he can be nominated for A Simple Plan, why not for something just as good (if not better) and even more technically demanding? It's as if the voters assume that all the decisions involving visual effects really are handled by a computer, and the people involved just do what the computer tells them. I know it make me sound like an incredible fanboy to say that Sam Raimi deserves Martin Scorcese's nomination, but what did Scorcese do with The Aviator that Raimi didn't do better making Spider-Man 2?
Best Documentary Feature/Short Subject
Haven't seen any of 'em, not even Super Size Me (documentarians pointing the camera at themselves a la Michael Moore doesn't strike me as a positive trend at all). These categories are usually decided by subject matter, anyway... Which makes me wonder why Control Room wasn't nominated.
Best Film Editing
It's tough to notice when this is good, unless it's done in a way that is wholly unique, like The Hulk or Pulp Fiction. Or, you know, Kill Bill Volume 2. I'd go with Collateral, because thrillers have to do more with their editing - they have to crank up suspense and establish geography better than non-genre films.
Best Foreign Language Film
Haven't seen any of these. Now that a significant number of foreign movies are getting released in the US, the special voting rules need to go. I'll basically be rooting against The Sea Inside, just because I strongly disagree with its premise in principle.
Best Makeup
I've only seen A Series of Unfortunate Events. Yeah, they did good.
Best Musical Score
I haven't seen The Passion, but more importantly... Where the hell is The Incredibles? They can't seriously have nominated John Williams repeating themes and reverting to predictability after his last couple of nifty Spielberg scores over The Incredibles, could they?
Best Original Song
Okay, I've only seen Shrek 2, and wasn't impressed with that song. And I've made my peace with "The Montage Song" from Team America being ineligible. But there were other great songs in that movie, too. Wusses.
Best Short Film, Animated/Live Action
Goose eggs here, too. And it looks like the Coolidge's "We've got Oscar's Shorts" program is a no-show this year. Dangit.
Best Sound Editing/Mixing
Haven't seen The Polar Express or Ray, and I've got a completely useless "ear".
Best Visual Effects
This list can't be right, you see, because Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow isn't on it. Seriously, guys - does anyone remember anything exceptionally cool in Harry Potter? No, not really. Spidey 2 was nice and well-integrated, and well-worthy of a nomination. The Will Smith Robot Movie was okay, but it did nothing that Sky Captain didn't do a thousand times over.
That Sky Captain has managed to more or less come and go without being huge astounds me. It's a fun movie, with love and attention to detail painstakingly applied to every frame. It's the next huge leap forward, just as The Phantom Menace was five years earlier, and the lack of love for it is similarly galling. The only explanation is that the Academy thinks of it as an animated picture that live-action characters have been inserted into, and in that case, it should definitely be displacing Shark Tale.
Also - The Life Aquatic. Pretty darn seemless for its style, and among the year's most beautiful. What's this award supposed to celebrate if neither Sky Captain nor The Life Aquatic gets nominated - not innovation, not creativity, not just being outstanding. What?
Best Adapted Screenplay
These are trick categories, because few of the voters have actually read the screenplay, and just see the finished product which has had scenes rearranged in the editing room, been improvised over, etc. Of what I've seen, I'd give the nod to Finding Neverland. I'm also very skeptical about Before Sunset belonging here - where, I ask, was the story it was based on previously published, produced, or performed?
Best Original Screenplay
Okay, maybe I dislike The Aviator more than most, but that's just not a good movie... My first, second, and third thoughts are that if something other than Eternal Sunshine wins, there should be an investigation.
What I need to do
Well, obviously, seeing Ray is at the top of the list; I'll probably hit the Somerville sometime this week even though it comes out on DVD next Tuesday.
There are four movies with three nominations that I haven't seen. I've been intending to see The Polar Express just for the "pretty 3-D" aspect, although I'm not sure if the Aquarium will have it past Thursday since James Cameron's new IMAX 3-D picture actually has something to do with marine life. Vera Drake is a maybe; I just haven't been able to muster any enthusiasm. Both The Phantom of the Opera and The Passion of the Christ are in the "hell, no" category for different reasons - I had enough of Phantom when my brother Dan and I shared a room back in Junior High, and religion and me just don't mix.
There are two movies with two nominations that I haven't seen. Both Closer and The Motorcycle Diaries have looked good, but haven't drawn me in.
Of the singles, I'm most likely to see Kinsey and Being Julia. I'm hoping that there's an opportunity to see the shorts and documentaries - there have been in previous years (Coolidge's program and a set of screenings that hopped from the Coolidge to Harvard to who knows where for the docs).
Of the stuff that is not nominated... Well, you've got to figure Bad Education won't be hanging around much longer now.
So, guess I've got some movies to see if I want to complain with authority.
Monday, January 24, 2005
When have you really seen a movie: Dark Journey and Nothing Sacred
Topic for discussion, as I horrify my little brother in the IM window with tales of what life was like before DVD: When does it count that you've seen a movie?
As I mention below, for some unknown reason, WGBH aired Nothing Sacred in black and white. I can't think of why, honestly; I suppose I can imagine some B&W prints being struck of a Technicolor film because studios are as cheap as any business, and I didn't see a Turner logo after this one like will occasionally happen with old films on GBH/GBX, so I imagine it's some old print the station picked up.
But, anyway, it begs the question - this is a color film, so can I really say I've seen it if I've only seen it in B&W? What about seeing a widescreen film in crop-o-vision, or a non-English film dubbed? How about seeing it on network TV?
And even if I can say I've seen it, with caveats, do I really have any business reviewing it? I'm missing a crucial component, and even if I say flat-out that the movie was messed with before I saw it, is my review useful?
Dunno. Anyway, on to the reviews:
Dark Journey
* * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 January 2005 in Jay's Living Room (WGBH)
Spy stories are a little like time travel stories in that if they aren't a little confusing, they're either not doing their job right or are highly simplified. Espionage is a complicated game whose best players specific skill is in not letting the other teams know which side their on or even that they're anything other than spectators. It's especially tough when a present-day audience is watching a movie made in 1937 which takes place in 1918.
One of the reasons that [i]Dark Journey[/i] becomes more confusing than it truly needs to be is because, despite taking place in Stockholm and featuring British, Swiss, French, German, Swedish, and Dutch characters, everyone in the cast except Conrad Veidt is from the UK and pretty much retains their English accents. And while in many cases that's praiseworthy - no serious movie wants to be laid low by silly-sounding accents - here, it doesn't work. There's no way to tell that Madeline Godard, the proprietrix of a dress shop who uses her business trips to Paris to smuggle information to British Intelligence, is anything but English until we're told she's Swiss.
Read the rest at HBS
Nothing Sacred
* * * (out of four)
Seen 23 January 2005 in Jay's Living Room (WGBH - shown in black & white)
What is the minimum standard of reproductive faithfulness that should be met when you see (and, especially, review) a movie? I ask this because when Nothing Sacred was recently used as late-night filler on a Boston public TV station, it was in black-and-white, despite the prominent credits for Technicolor. Even in monochrome, it's still an eminently watchable, funny screwball comedy. I can certainly recommend it on that count, but that raises the question as to whether the movie I'm recommending is the movie you'd be seeing.
The story comes through clear enough - after his most recent story as exposed as a fake, journalist Wally Cook (Fredric March) seeks to rehabilitate his career with a story on a woman in Vermont dying of radium poisoning. Just as he arrives, though, Miss Hazel Flagg (Carole Lombard) learns that her diagnosis was, in fact, a mistake, and she's in perfect health. But when the newsman offers to take her to New York City, she plays along, as does her doctor, who has his own grudge against this newspaper. But when New York pours its heart out to her, Hazel starts to feel a little guilty, while Wally starts to feel a little smitten.
Read the rest at HBS
As I mention below, for some unknown reason, WGBH aired Nothing Sacred in black and white. I can't think of why, honestly; I suppose I can imagine some B&W prints being struck of a Technicolor film because studios are as cheap as any business, and I didn't see a Turner logo after this one like will occasionally happen with old films on GBH/GBX, so I imagine it's some old print the station picked up.
But, anyway, it begs the question - this is a color film, so can I really say I've seen it if I've only seen it in B&W? What about seeing a widescreen film in crop-o-vision, or a non-English film dubbed? How about seeing it on network TV?
And even if I can say I've seen it, with caveats, do I really have any business reviewing it? I'm missing a crucial component, and even if I say flat-out that the movie was messed with before I saw it, is my review useful?
Dunno. Anyway, on to the reviews:
Dark Journey
* * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 January 2005 in Jay's Living Room (WGBH)
Spy stories are a little like time travel stories in that if they aren't a little confusing, they're either not doing their job right or are highly simplified. Espionage is a complicated game whose best players specific skill is in not letting the other teams know which side their on or even that they're anything other than spectators. It's especially tough when a present-day audience is watching a movie made in 1937 which takes place in 1918.
One of the reasons that [i]Dark Journey[/i] becomes more confusing than it truly needs to be is because, despite taking place in Stockholm and featuring British, Swiss, French, German, Swedish, and Dutch characters, everyone in the cast except Conrad Veidt is from the UK and pretty much retains their English accents. And while in many cases that's praiseworthy - no serious movie wants to be laid low by silly-sounding accents - here, it doesn't work. There's no way to tell that Madeline Godard, the proprietrix of a dress shop who uses her business trips to Paris to smuggle information to British Intelligence, is anything but English until we're told she's Swiss.
Read the rest at HBS
Nothing Sacred
* * * (out of four)
Seen 23 January 2005 in Jay's Living Room (WGBH - shown in black & white)
What is the minimum standard of reproductive faithfulness that should be met when you see (and, especially, review) a movie? I ask this because when Nothing Sacred was recently used as late-night filler on a Boston public TV station, it was in black-and-white, despite the prominent credits for Technicolor. Even in monochrome, it's still an eminently watchable, funny screwball comedy. I can certainly recommend it on that count, but that raises the question as to whether the movie I'm recommending is the movie you'd be seeing.
The story comes through clear enough - after his most recent story as exposed as a fake, journalist Wally Cook (Fredric March) seeks to rehabilitate his career with a story on a woman in Vermont dying of radium poisoning. Just as he arrives, though, Miss Hazel Flagg (Carole Lombard) learns that her diagnosis was, in fact, a mistake, and she's in perfect health. But when the newsman offers to take her to New York City, she plays along, as does her doctor, who has his own grudge against this newspaper. But when New York pours its heart out to her, Hazel starts to feel a little guilty, while Wally starts to feel a little smitten.
Read the rest at HBS
Friday, January 21, 2005
Anyone speak Taiwanese?
I'm not terribly upset that some website in Taiwan decided to reprint my revew of Vanity Fair (here, for now), since it's not like I'm getting paid anyway, but you'd think they'd have the good manners to ask.
So, did they at least print it in its entirety? It looks like I'm only credited as "Jay", so if any of the people responsible for the pilfery are reading this - it's "Jason Seaver".
So, did they at least print it in its entirety? It looks like I'm only credited as "Jay", so if any of the people responsible for the pilfery are reading this - it's "Jason Seaver".
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Sky Blue, and a discussion starter
Arg. I wanted to hit the Brattle to see Peau d'Ane tonight, but despite giving Ivy cash for a new membership on Sunday, it hasn't arrived yet. I'd bite the bullet and spend the $9, but Monday night, the ATM swallowed my card. The bank couldn't give it back to me the next morning, since even though the machine is actually part of the bank, it's handled by an outside contractor, so it would have been destroyed in the morning. Still haven't gotten a new one, so I've got $2 in my pocket until it comes, or I can cash a check on Saturday. Annoying.
I hope like heck it doesn't prevent me from getting a ticket to The Alloy Orchestra accompanying Blackmail on Saturday. If it is sold out... I'll trade anyone with a ticket a pass for SF/30 ($40-45 value) straight up.
Anyway, I wrote in my review of Sky Blue (below) that certain factors increase the probability and extent American distributors will mess with a foreign movie. Feel free to use the comments section to suggest what those factors may be.
Sky Blue (aka Wonderful Days)
* * ½ (out of four) (English-dubbed version)
Seen 19 January 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #9 (first-run)
As Japanese animation became more prominent in American pop-culture during the nineties, people stopped making jokes about it, but the jokes didn't go away; they instead began referring to Korean production houses. The logical next step would be for Korea to start producing some impressive work, becoming the new Japan and deflecting all the jokes onto some other country (the Philippenes, perhaps). Sky Blue was a major undertaking for everyone involved, and it's an admirable effort, but if this is the Korean animation's big showcase piece, then they're not ready to be the new Japan yet.
I hope like heck it doesn't prevent me from getting a ticket to The Alloy Orchestra accompanying Blackmail on Saturday. If it is sold out... I'll trade anyone with a ticket a pass for SF/30 ($40-45 value) straight up.
Anyway, I wrote in my review of Sky Blue (below) that certain factors increase the probability and extent American distributors will mess with a foreign movie. Feel free to use the comments section to suggest what those factors may be.
Sky Blue (aka Wonderful Days)
* * ½ (out of four) (English-dubbed version)
Seen 19 January 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #9 (first-run)
As Japanese animation became more prominent in American pop-culture during the nineties, people stopped making jokes about it, but the jokes didn't go away; they instead began referring to Korean production houses. The logical next step would be for Korea to start producing some impressive work, becoming the new Japan and deflecting all the jokes onto some other country (the Philippenes, perhaps). Sky Blue was a major undertaking for everyone involved, and it's an admirable effort, but if this is the Korean animation's big showcase piece, then they're not ready to be the new Japan yet.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Biographies of crazy people: The Aviator and In the Realms of the Unreal
A few brief notes: I have to go to more movies, in particular more bad movies, with my brother, because I love the "conversation with Matt" format. Aside from it being easy, since I basically have to transcribe it after he does half the talking, it's distinctive and often funny. I think The Matrix Revolutions is still my favorite review.
For what it's worth, that which you see in the header below is about all we said; I go on to hammer at the movie on my own for a while at HBS. But I'd like to do more, so, Matt, as soon as you've got a spare moment with your play being finished and such, let's rent Catwoman or something.
As to the other movie, In the Realms of the Unreal is downright fascinating. Ivy made a comment about Darger's rich internal life compared to his almost non-existant external life reminding her of some of the Brattle's patrons. I don't think she was looking at me when she said it, but hey... Got me thinking about my relationship with the protagonist of my other, fictional blog, Transplanted Life. If you haven't read it, take some time to surf on over later. The chronological "backstory" links are current until July '04 (honest, I intend to update the rest soon).
Anyway, the protagonist of that blog is a guy who, for reasons initially unknown to him, wakes up in a woman's body and living her life. It's a daily blog, with a lot of sci-fi and soap opera elements and occasionally "journal" entries thrown in, with my opinions on pop culture and politics coming in pretty much unfiltered. It does speak to the seductiveness of this kind of internal world, though - I can create a group of friends, girlfriends/boyfriends, excitement... But I also kind of feel it intruding onto my real life. I'll do stuff and think about what Marti's take on it is just as fast as my own. Part of the reason why I cut down to roughly every other day rather than every day. Gotta reclaim some of my own life.
The Aviator
* * (out of four)
Seen 15 January 2005 at AMC Fenway #9 (first-run)
Brief snippet of conversation my brother Matt and I had as "A Martin Scorcese Film" appeared on the screen:
"Well, he was one crazy m-f-er."
"Howard Hughes or Martin Scorcese?"
"Yes."
Read the rest at HBS.
In the Realms of the Unreal
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 16 January 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-Opener)
Art has many sources, and many kinds of sources. There are the other artists who serve as influences, there are the events in one's life that change his world view, and there are the intrinsic, often inborn, qualities of one's personality. Jessica Yu's documentary on Henry Darger shows this in an intelligent, elegant manner.
Read the rest at HBS
For what it's worth, that which you see in the header below is about all we said; I go on to hammer at the movie on my own for a while at HBS. But I'd like to do more, so, Matt, as soon as you've got a spare moment with your play being finished and such, let's rent Catwoman or something.
As to the other movie, In the Realms of the Unreal is downright fascinating. Ivy made a comment about Darger's rich internal life compared to his almost non-existant external life reminding her of some of the Brattle's patrons. I don't think she was looking at me when she said it, but hey... Got me thinking about my relationship with the protagonist of my other, fictional blog, Transplanted Life. If you haven't read it, take some time to surf on over later. The chronological "backstory" links are current until July '04 (honest, I intend to update the rest soon).
Anyway, the protagonist of that blog is a guy who, for reasons initially unknown to him, wakes up in a woman's body and living her life. It's a daily blog, with a lot of sci-fi and soap opera elements and occasionally "journal" entries thrown in, with my opinions on pop culture and politics coming in pretty much unfiltered. It does speak to the seductiveness of this kind of internal world, though - I can create a group of friends, girlfriends/boyfriends, excitement... But I also kind of feel it intruding onto my real life. I'll do stuff and think about what Marti's take on it is just as fast as my own. Part of the reason why I cut down to roughly every other day rather than every day. Gotta reclaim some of my own life.
The Aviator
* * (out of four)
Seen 15 January 2005 at AMC Fenway #9 (first-run)
Brief snippet of conversation my brother Matt and I had as "A Martin Scorcese Film" appeared on the screen:
"Well, he was one crazy m-f-er."
"Howard Hughes or Martin Scorcese?"
"Yes."
Read the rest at HBS.
In the Realms of the Unreal
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 16 January 2005 at the Brattle Theater (Sunday Eye-Opener)
Art has many sources, and many kinds of sources. There are the other artists who serve as influences, there are the events in one's life that change his world view, and there are the intrinsic, often inborn, qualities of one's personality. Jessica Yu's documentary on Henry Darger shows this in an intelligent, elegant manner.
Read the rest at HBS
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Ocean's 12 and Spanglish
Finally finished up with the reviews of Sunday's movies, but I don't have much of an intro - I'm still trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do in this "The Conversation" thing that the cinetrix seems to think I should contribute to.
Which I will, eventually. After I've gotten my HBS reviews done, and actually updated Transplanted Life, and maybe actually watched another movie or two (I missed a sneak of The Assassination of Richard Nixon last night, but I'll be damned if I missSky Blue Wonderful Days this weekend).
I will say I'm kind of surprised how much I enjoyed Spanglish, though. The family and friends who likely form most of this blog's readership know my opinion of Adam Sandler, and I was pretty sure that a PG-13 American movie wouldn't feature nearly as much of Paz Vega as her Spanish movies do, if you catch my drift. But, then I remembered it's an immigrant movie, and I love the heck out of those.
Okay... On with the reviewing:
Ocean's Twelve
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 9 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #7 (first-run)
It's almost pointless to try and dissect Ocean's Twelve, because contradiction is inevitable. It's overstuffed, with too many characters and plot points and goofy cameos, but at the same time, it's one of the most fluffy, airy movies you'll ever see. It's loose and silly but never quite carefree. It's one of the most cleverly self-aware movies you'll ever see, but doesn't quite make that pay off as much as it perhaps should.
Read the rest at HBS
Spanglish
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 9 January 2005 at AMC Fenway #8 (first-run)
A little over year ago, Jason Whyte and I were chatting on Instant Messager about the worst movies of 2003. I arrived at Anger Management pretty quickly, but was puzzled by the number of otherwise respected actors who has supporting or cameo roles in that typical Adam Sandler turd. Either Hollywood is even more cynical and opportunistic than I had previously believed, or he's one of the nicest people in the world and people just like working with him. My fellow Jason said he was pretty sure it was the latter. "Well, for crying out loud," I said, "can't he be nice to writers, too?"
Read the rest at HBS
Which I will, eventually. After I've gotten my HBS reviews done, and actually updated Transplanted Life, and maybe actually watched another movie or two (I missed a sneak of The Assassination of Richard Nixon last night, but I'll be damned if I miss
I will say I'm kind of surprised how much I enjoyed Spanglish, though. The family and friends who likely form most of this blog's readership know my opinion of Adam Sandler, and I was pretty sure that a PG-13 American movie wouldn't feature nearly as much of Paz Vega as her Spanish movies do, if you catch my drift. But, then I remembered it's an immigrant movie, and I love the heck out of those.
Okay... On with the reviewing:
Ocean's Twelve
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 9 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #7 (first-run)
It's almost pointless to try and dissect Ocean's Twelve, because contradiction is inevitable. It's overstuffed, with too many characters and plot points and goofy cameos, but at the same time, it's one of the most fluffy, airy movies you'll ever see. It's loose and silly but never quite carefree. It's one of the most cleverly self-aware movies you'll ever see, but doesn't quite make that pay off as much as it perhaps should.
Read the rest at HBS
Spanglish
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 9 January 2005 at AMC Fenway #8 (first-run)
A little over year ago, Jason Whyte and I were chatting on Instant Messager about the worst movies of 2003. I arrived at Anger Management pretty quickly, but was puzzled by the number of otherwise respected actors who has supporting or cameo roles in that typical Adam Sandler turd. Either Hollywood is even more cynical and opportunistic than I had previously believed, or he's one of the nicest people in the world and people just like working with him. My fellow Jason said he was pretty sure it was the latter. "Well, for crying out loud," I said, "can't he be nice to writers, too?"
Read the rest at HBS
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Oscar contenders - Hotel Rwanda and Million Dollar Baby
I must say, I heartily approve of the whole "Oscars in late February thing". It seems like relatively few movies are straddling the years on a platform release, and even the ones that do are making it to Boston fast. Resulting in good moviegoing experiences like today, although that just includes the time actually in theaters. Otherwise - sleet. Ugh. We've had snow, wind, slush, and sleet this week. My "bad weather bingo" card is a winner with either hail or freezing rain.
One thing I can't help but notice is how quiet Miramax is this year. The only year-end Oscar contender coming from them seems to be Finding Neverland, and even that doesn't seem to be getting a hard push. I'm not sure whether that's because of the department's budget allgedly being cut, or people simply choosing not to deal with the Weinsteins when options such as Fox Searchlight, Focus, Paramount Classics, United Artists, Warner Independent, Sony Pictures Classics, and Lion's Gate are available. Have they completely burned their bridges with talent or is this just a fluke thing?
Hotel Rwanda
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 8 January 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #2 (first-run)
There can be no denying that Paul Rusesabagina, as played by Don Cheadle in Hotel Rwanda, is a hero. Some may dismiss the movie's worthiness based on that. I've had many conversations with people who say that heroes are boring characters, that strength isn't as interesting as weakness. They say, give me a protagonist seeking redemption for some past misdeed, or one with a dark side in opposition to their heroics, and that's an interesting character.
Read the rest at HBS.
Million Dollar Baby
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 8 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #14 (first-run)
I don't like Million Dollar Baby's subject matter. Others may find some sort of romance or nobility in a generally corrupt sport that involves little more than pummelling ones opponent until he or she can't get back up, but I cannot. I recognize the skill and dedication, but can't help but think it could be better applied elsewhere. Despite all that, Million Dollar Baby is an excellent movie.
Read the rest at HBS
One thing I can't help but notice is how quiet Miramax is this year. The only year-end Oscar contender coming from them seems to be Finding Neverland, and even that doesn't seem to be getting a hard push. I'm not sure whether that's because of the department's budget allgedly being cut, or people simply choosing not to deal with the Weinsteins when options such as Fox Searchlight, Focus, Paramount Classics, United Artists, Warner Independent, Sony Pictures Classics, and Lion's Gate are available. Have they completely burned their bridges with talent or is this just a fluke thing?
Hotel Rwanda
* * * * (out of four)
Seen 8 January 2005 at Landmark Kendall Square #2 (first-run)
There can be no denying that Paul Rusesabagina, as played by Don Cheadle in Hotel Rwanda, is a hero. Some may dismiss the movie's worthiness based on that. I've had many conversations with people who say that heroes are boring characters, that strength isn't as interesting as weakness. They say, give me a protagonist seeking redemption for some past misdeed, or one with a dark side in opposition to their heroics, and that's an interesting character.
Read the rest at HBS.
Million Dollar Baby
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 8 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #14 (first-run)
I don't like Million Dollar Baby's subject matter. Others may find some sort of romance or nobility in a generally corrupt sport that involves little more than pummelling ones opponent until he or she can't get back up, but I cannot. I recognize the skill and dedication, but can't help but think it could be better applied elsewhere. Despite all that, Million Dollar Baby is an excellent movie.
Read the rest at HBS
Friday, January 07, 2005
Michael Keaton in White Noise and something even scarier
I honestly don't remember signing up on the Boston Phoenix's movie preview page for passes to White Noise. The "free movie" thing is almost a reflex with me, so I don't doubt that I did it. It did lead to some IMDB surfing while chatting with my brother (and, you know, working) that pointed out interesting information.
First, we couldn't quite figure out how Keaton's career sunk to the point where he was doing crappy "supernatural thrillers" that get dumped the first week of January. One minute, he's Batman, then he's doing Shakespeare, and then he's in a series of good movies that catch a bad break or something (for example, the very funny Multiplicity opened the week that the 1996 Summer Olympics started. I was working in a theater, and that killed The Frighteners, too. Then, I guess, Jack Frost nuked it.
Second, he's been talking about wanting to return to Beetlejuice. Not that I think that's a good idea, but if ever there was a cast that needed and deserved a career-boosting sequel, it's Keaton, Alec Baldwin, Geena Davis, and Winona Ryder. (This also leads to the reminder that Ms. Davis is just five years younger than our mom. We shall debate whether finding her or Audrey Hepburn attractive is freakier later)
Third, though, we see that his next movie is something called Game 6, about a playwright skipping a premiere to watch the sixth game of the 1986 World Series.
Someone made a movie about watching That Game. And since it's premiering at Sundance, they must have made it before the joyous events of October 2004. What sort of mean-spirited, sadistic sons of bitches would do that? Aside from New Yorkers, that is.
It's just another reason to be glad the Red Sox won the World Series. Otherwise, I still would have gone to see it, and the inevitable shot of Mookie Wilson poking a ground ball through Bill Buckner blown up larger-than-life would have just been immense, raw pain. Now, it'll just be remembered sadness.
But, that's not what I saw Tuesday night. I saw...
White Noise
* ¼ (out of four)
Seen 4 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #16 (preview)
When a movie starts with by quoting Thomas Edison, the audience can be forgiven for expecting a certain sort of rationality. Eidson, as a billboard near my apartment reminds me, founded the respected academic journal Science, and contributed enormously to science and engineering. I suspect the quote, about a machine that allows the dead to communicate with the living, referenced the phonograph rather than the radio.
Read the rest at HBS.
(Ironically, the writer of Game 6 wrote a book named White Noise which is supposedly in production with Barry Sonnenfeld directing. I doubt it will see the light of day now, at least under that name)
First, we couldn't quite figure out how Keaton's career sunk to the point where he was doing crappy "supernatural thrillers" that get dumped the first week of January. One minute, he's Batman, then he's doing Shakespeare, and then he's in a series of good movies that catch a bad break or something (for example, the very funny Multiplicity opened the week that the 1996 Summer Olympics started. I was working in a theater, and that killed The Frighteners, too. Then, I guess, Jack Frost nuked it.
Second, he's been talking about wanting to return to Beetlejuice. Not that I think that's a good idea, but if ever there was a cast that needed and deserved a career-boosting sequel, it's Keaton, Alec Baldwin, Geena Davis, and Winona Ryder. (This also leads to the reminder that Ms. Davis is just five years younger than our mom. We shall debate whether finding her or Audrey Hepburn attractive is freakier later)
Third, though, we see that his next movie is something called Game 6, about a playwright skipping a premiere to watch the sixth game of the 1986 World Series.
Someone made a movie about watching That Game. And since it's premiering at Sundance, they must have made it before the joyous events of October 2004. What sort of mean-spirited, sadistic sons of bitches would do that? Aside from New Yorkers, that is.
It's just another reason to be glad the Red Sox won the World Series. Otherwise, I still would have gone to see it, and the inevitable shot of Mookie Wilson poking a ground ball through Bill Buckner blown up larger-than-life would have just been immense, raw pain. Now, it'll just be remembered sadness.
But, that's not what I saw Tuesday night. I saw...
White Noise
* ¼ (out of four)
Seen 4 January 2005 at Loews Boston Common #16 (preview)
When a movie starts with by quoting Thomas Edison, the audience can be forgiven for expecting a certain sort of rationality. Eidson, as a billboard near my apartment reminds me, founded the respected academic journal Science, and contributed enormously to science and engineering. I suspect the quote, about a machine that allows the dead to communicate with the living, referenced the phonograph rather than the radio.
Read the rest at HBS.
(Ironically, the writer of Game 6 wrote a book named White Noise which is supposedly in production with Barry Sonnenfeld directing. I doubt it will see the light of day now, at least under that name)
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