Tomas Alfredson
2008
Not that it ever went out of style, but it appears the vampire film is on an upswing with HBO's decent series "True Blood," the upcoming "Twilight" adaptation (sure to be a hit with nerdy teenage girls) and this dandy of an import from Sweden. This one goes the arthouse route being shot mainly in excellent shallow-focus closeups and distant longshots, with a muted/measured color scheme. Bullied blonde moppet Oskar gains a much needed friend in the form of Eli (sounds like Elly not E-lie), who's just moved into his apartment building. Eli may be a vampire, but that doesn't stop them from "going steady." Scenes of violence and supernatural happenings are handled exceptionally well with the preteen vampire scuttling up walls, a woman massively combusting in a hospital bed, and an acid-burn suicide attempt. Even at it's most grandiose, gory, and wicked Alfredson plays his big setpieces with an amusing deadpan frankness. The film benefits from ambiguity with an easily interpretable, yet not overtly stated epilogue. This knife cuts both ways however, as the more in-your-face elements like a pride of crappy CGI housecats on the attack, and Eli lifting her dress to reveal a disturbing lack of genitalia, end up doing more harm than good to a generally excellent effort.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Street of Shame
Kenji Mizoguchi
1948
The final installment in the "Kenji Mizoguchi's Fallen Women" box is an accessible portrait of a gaggle of prostitutes living under the same brothel roof. This examination of the circumstances that have forced the hapless gals into hooking, and the psychological quirks developed as a result is framed with a political debate as to whether or not to outlaw the oldest profession in Japan. The sob stories on hand are effective but one dimensional - a prostitute works to support her sickly husband and child, another possesses a single minded drive to earn money as her current predicament is the result of family poverty, and the westernized brat refuses an invitation home when she realizes it's based less on familial love than on her father's desire to keep up appearances. The Mom and Pop proprietors of the best little whorehouse in Tokyo are pragmatic businessfolk, interested in the well-being of their charges as long as it contributes to the bottom line. They're an untrustworthy lot with their fuddy-duddie warmth belying a complete disinterest in the emotional life of the girls, and a careful eye on the iron-clad debt that keeps many of the girls in indentured servitude. Mizoguchi capably handles his favorite subject matter in this broad tragedy, but it lacks the righteous rage of the box's other entries.
1948
The final installment in the "Kenji Mizoguchi's Fallen Women" box is an accessible portrait of a gaggle of prostitutes living under the same brothel roof. This examination of the circumstances that have forced the hapless gals into hooking, and the psychological quirks developed as a result is framed with a political debate as to whether or not to outlaw the oldest profession in Japan. The sob stories on hand are effective but one dimensional - a prostitute works to support her sickly husband and child, another possesses a single minded drive to earn money as her current predicament is the result of family poverty, and the westernized brat refuses an invitation home when she realizes it's based less on familial love than on her father's desire to keep up appearances. The Mom and Pop proprietors of the best little whorehouse in Tokyo are pragmatic businessfolk, interested in the well-being of their charges as long as it contributes to the bottom line. They're an untrustworthy lot with their fuddy-duddie warmth belying a complete disinterest in the emotional life of the girls, and a careful eye on the iron-clad debt that keeps many of the girls in indentured servitude. Mizoguchi capably handles his favorite subject matter in this broad tragedy, but it lacks the righteous rage of the box's other entries.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
A Face in the Crowd
Elia Kazan
1957
It's hard for me to dig on Elia Kazan what with his cowardly betrayal during the blacklist hearings, but historically he remains an undeniable cinematic heavyweight. "On the Waterfront" (1954) is an uncontested masterpiece, and "East of Eden" (1955) is nothing to sneeze at either, but this time around I found the heavy satire cloying, and the rise-and-fall narrative generally unsympathetic. Andy Griffith's braying media sensation 'Lonesome' Rhodes has the throaty roar of a busted engine, and his perpetual crowing quickly becomes fingernails-on-chalkboard shrill. This hard-drinking loose hipped country boy is more of a con-man than a folk-hero to begin with, just asking for his inevitable "Citizen Kletus" downfall. Patricia Neal provides the most interest with her square-jawed Southern sensibility at odds with her irrational (and self-desturctive) devotion to the Frankenstein's monster she's created. A pre-jowles Walter Matthau makes for the most interesting supporting character with his jaded television writer hopelessly pining after Neal. I've got to admit some surprise at not recognizing the majority of the supporting actors in this picture. Despite my ingrained distaste for Kazan on principle I've always been impressed by his treatment of character actors in smaller roles.
1957
It's hard for me to dig on Elia Kazan what with his cowardly betrayal during the blacklist hearings, but historically he remains an undeniable cinematic heavyweight. "On the Waterfront" (1954) is an uncontested masterpiece, and "East of Eden" (1955) is nothing to sneeze at either, but this time around I found the heavy satire cloying, and the rise-and-fall narrative generally unsympathetic. Andy Griffith's braying media sensation 'Lonesome' Rhodes has the throaty roar of a busted engine, and his perpetual crowing quickly becomes fingernails-on-chalkboard shrill. This hard-drinking loose hipped country boy is more of a con-man than a folk-hero to begin with, just asking for his inevitable "Citizen Kletus" downfall. Patricia Neal provides the most interest with her square-jawed Southern sensibility at odds with her irrational (and self-desturctive) devotion to the Frankenstein's monster she's created. A pre-jowles Walter Matthau makes for the most interesting supporting character with his jaded television writer hopelessly pining after Neal. I've got to admit some surprise at not recognizing the majority of the supporting actors in this picture. Despite my ingrained distaste for Kazan on principle I've always been impressed by his treatment of character actors in smaller roles.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The Last Wave
Peter Weir
1977
Much like he would in 1985's Harrison Ford vehicle "Witness" (1985), Peter Weir employs an exotic and offbeat culture to color his drama. Whereas Ford lams it in Pennsylvania's Amish community, the lawyer at the center of "The Last Wave" deals with a group closer to Weir's own experience - urban Australian aboriginals. The picture maintains a degree of mystery and danger from the get-go, but the steadily spiraling cosmic freakout that ensues is enough to make Haruki Murakami smile. The use of water as apocalyptic agent is excellently conveyed in it's drearily constant menace. In the first few shots the dusty outback gets deluged before being pounded by fist-sized hail stones. Soon the downpour drifts to the city where it batters the windshields and roofs of Sydney's residents - and even more violently within the mind of hero Richard Chamberlain. Aboriginal lore gives the film a nice hook, but it's the visual treatment of the sullen tight-lipped natives that really ups the intrigue. It's a nicely offbeat film, but as far as Weir is concerned I still prefer "Picnic at Hanging Rock" (1975).
1977
Much like he would in 1985's Harrison Ford vehicle "Witness" (1985), Peter Weir employs an exotic and offbeat culture to color his drama. Whereas Ford lams it in Pennsylvania's Amish community, the lawyer at the center of "The Last Wave" deals with a group closer to Weir's own experience - urban Australian aboriginals. The picture maintains a degree of mystery and danger from the get-go, but the steadily spiraling cosmic freakout that ensues is enough to make Haruki Murakami smile. The use of water as apocalyptic agent is excellently conveyed in it's drearily constant menace. In the first few shots the dusty outback gets deluged before being pounded by fist-sized hail stones. Soon the downpour drifts to the city where it batters the windshields and roofs of Sydney's residents - and even more violently within the mind of hero Richard Chamberlain. Aboriginal lore gives the film a nice hook, but it's the visual treatment of the sullen tight-lipped natives that really ups the intrigue. It's a nicely offbeat film, but as far as Weir is concerned I still prefer "Picnic at Hanging Rock" (1975).
Monday, November 10, 2008
House of Usher
Roger Corman
1960
For cheapie studio American International Pictures, Roger Corman's take on the writing of Edgar Allan Poe (which would birth a cycle), is huge in budget with it's semi-lavish sets and real name actor in the form of Vincent Price. The great Richard Matheson pens an adequate feature-length screenplay from the short story, successfully incorporating new elements and ideas that gel with the original's spirit. Yet it remains fundamentally flawed with it's lack of action and proper atmosphere. Price has an undeniable screen presence, but his intendedly villainous Roderick Usher comes off as little more than a invalid sissy, and brylcreemed alpha male Mark Damon shows the charisma and acting chops of a lawn jockey. This leaves Myrna Fahey to put in the best turn with her wide-eyed bloody-clawed madness. Finally, the physicality of the slowly crumbling foundation is a powerful visual tool, but the lion's share of the effects budget clearly went into photographing the Usher mansion consumed in flames. It's an impressive ending to a mostly mediocre picture.
1960
For cheapie studio American International Pictures, Roger Corman's take on the writing of Edgar Allan Poe (which would birth a cycle), is huge in budget with it's semi-lavish sets and real name actor in the form of Vincent Price. The great Richard Matheson pens an adequate feature-length screenplay from the short story, successfully incorporating new elements and ideas that gel with the original's spirit. Yet it remains fundamentally flawed with it's lack of action and proper atmosphere. Price has an undeniable screen presence, but his intendedly villainous Roderick Usher comes off as little more than a invalid sissy, and brylcreemed alpha male Mark Damon shows the charisma and acting chops of a lawn jockey. This leaves Myrna Fahey to put in the best turn with her wide-eyed bloody-clawed madness. Finally, the physicality of the slowly crumbling foundation is a powerful visual tool, but the lion's share of the effects budget clearly went into photographing the Usher mansion consumed in flames. It's an impressive ending to a mostly mediocre picture.
Women of the Night
Kenji Mizoguchi
1948
In a struggling and shamed postwar Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi illuminates the hardships that drive his nation's women onto nighttime streets, and the dangers of this desperate life. Unlike the culturally-loaded world of "Sisters of the Gion" (1936), the genteel traditions, costumes, and courtesies are replaced with the hardscrabble realities of syphilis, defilement, and unwanted pregnancies. Sisters Fusako and Natsuko are reunited after suffering their fare share of wartime heartbreak in the form of dead parents, dead offspring, and forced rape at the hands of soldiers. The girls try and stick to the straight and narrow despite these scars, but are pushed over the edge after one-too-many emotional disappointments. While not a true noir, the picture borrows some of the genre's touches with a nifty jailbreak from lady prison, angry hooker street beatdowns, and the downfall of a seedy drug-dealing businessman. Mizoguchi gets a lot of mileage out of the skin trade, but the sisters are left with short shrift in character development - Fusako's transformation from innocent to bad girl is too quick, and the seemingly steely Natsuko devolves into victimhood at the drop of a hat. I couldn't help but feel this picture predicted or inspired some of Seijun Suzuki's output, particularly in the angry unrepentant whores ("Gate of Flesh" 1964) and the squalid semi-surrealistic finale complete with a hefty dose of Christian imagery.
1948
In a struggling and shamed postwar Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi illuminates the hardships that drive his nation's women onto nighttime streets, and the dangers of this desperate life. Unlike the culturally-loaded world of "Sisters of the Gion" (1936), the genteel traditions, costumes, and courtesies are replaced with the hardscrabble realities of syphilis, defilement, and unwanted pregnancies. Sisters Fusako and Natsuko are reunited after suffering their fare share of wartime heartbreak in the form of dead parents, dead offspring, and forced rape at the hands of soldiers. The girls try and stick to the straight and narrow despite these scars, but are pushed over the edge after one-too-many emotional disappointments. While not a true noir, the picture borrows some of the genre's touches with a nifty jailbreak from lady prison, angry hooker street beatdowns, and the downfall of a seedy drug-dealing businessman. Mizoguchi gets a lot of mileage out of the skin trade, but the sisters are left with short shrift in character development - Fusako's transformation from innocent to bad girl is too quick, and the seemingly steely Natsuko devolves into victimhood at the drop of a hat. I couldn't help but feel this picture predicted or inspired some of Seijun Suzuki's output, particularly in the angry unrepentant whores ("Gate of Flesh" 1964) and the squalid semi-surrealistic finale complete with a hefty dose of Christian imagery.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Together
Lukas Moodysson
2000
Before he made bleak films about preteen Russian prostitutes and desperate amateur pornographers, Lukas Moodysson made this much warmer, much fuzzier picture about a battered mother and her two children taking shelter in a hippy commune run by her brother. The colorful cast of social misfits and radicals include a self-proclaimed lesbian, her bitter ex-husband, their amusingly named child (Tet), a homosexual with a Prince Valiant 'do, an overly serious Marxist, a couple of die-hard crunchies, and gentle leader Goran, who provides a perpetual doormat for his sexually adventurous girlfriend. Visually, Moodysson employs a curious device where nearly every shot of the quasi-documentary camerawork involves a zoom. This aesthetic choice isn't nearly as dreadful as it sounds, lending additional quirk to an already uncommon picture. The abusive husband is given a fair shake, and despite his alcohol fueled fuck-ups, is presented as a three dimensional individual worthy of sympathy. While the mother begins to seriously enjoy her consciousness-expanding time at the commune, cozying up with her new lesbian pal, the children miss eating meat and loathe being driven to school in the stereotypically painted VW bus. There's a lot of great situational humor in the character interactions, starting with a bang when the camera reveals that one of the women is naked from the waist down during a house discussion about dishwashing (fungal infections are a bitch). The film's conflicts tend to wrap up a little too easily, but this remains an extremely pleasant and satisfying picture.
2000
Before he made bleak films about preteen Russian prostitutes and desperate amateur pornographers, Lukas Moodysson made this much warmer, much fuzzier picture about a battered mother and her two children taking shelter in a hippy commune run by her brother. The colorful cast of social misfits and radicals include a self-proclaimed lesbian, her bitter ex-husband, their amusingly named child (Tet), a homosexual with a Prince Valiant 'do, an overly serious Marxist, a couple of die-hard crunchies, and gentle leader Goran, who provides a perpetual doormat for his sexually adventurous girlfriend. Visually, Moodysson employs a curious device where nearly every shot of the quasi-documentary camerawork involves a zoom. This aesthetic choice isn't nearly as dreadful as it sounds, lending additional quirk to an already uncommon picture. The abusive husband is given a fair shake, and despite his alcohol fueled fuck-ups, is presented as a three dimensional individual worthy of sympathy. While the mother begins to seriously enjoy her consciousness-expanding time at the commune, cozying up with her new lesbian pal, the children miss eating meat and loathe being driven to school in the stereotypically painted VW bus. There's a lot of great situational humor in the character interactions, starting with a bang when the camera reveals that one of the women is naked from the waist down during a house discussion about dishwashing (fungal infections are a bitch). The film's conflicts tend to wrap up a little too easily, but this remains an extremely pleasant and satisfying picture.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Family Plot
Alfred Hitchcock
1976
The last realized project by the Master of Suspense may not be considered among his finest, but it does have the same devilish sense of danger and black humor that many of his best films do. Fraud psychic Blanche (an easy on the eyes Barbara Harris) and her low-rent cabbie boyfriend (unlikely leading man George Lumely) do all they can to hoodwink little old ladies for extra loot when a whopper lands in their boat. All they need to do is track down jeweler/kidnapper Arthur Anderson (an exceptionally slippery William Devane) and his main squeeze (a two-Vicodin-too-many Karen Black). The film is part caper flick with high stakes ransoms, and part detective story with a mysteriously falsified grave marker. I remember reading (probably in Truffaut's famous interview book) that Hitchcock lamented the increasingly graphic depictions of sex and violence, as well as the use of courser language, in 70's cinema. However, Hitch seems to embrace these more risque elements with an unsubtly horny Babs Harris and some well placed cuss-words. The couples' parallel transgressions - petty scams vs. big time scores - pleasantly predicts Woody Allen's "Crimes and Misdemeanors" (1989), and despite it's generally lighter tone, it's one of the better of Hitchcock's minor works. It's nice to see that the old bulldog never lost his touch, even after a handful of late career disappointments.
1976
The last realized project by the Master of Suspense may not be considered among his finest, but it does have the same devilish sense of danger and black humor that many of his best films do. Fraud psychic Blanche (an easy on the eyes Barbara Harris) and her low-rent cabbie boyfriend (unlikely leading man George Lumely) do all they can to hoodwink little old ladies for extra loot when a whopper lands in their boat. All they need to do is track down jeweler/kidnapper Arthur Anderson (an exceptionally slippery William Devane) and his main squeeze (a two-Vicodin-too-many Karen Black). The film is part caper flick with high stakes ransoms, and part detective story with a mysteriously falsified grave marker. I remember reading (probably in Truffaut's famous interview book) that Hitchcock lamented the increasingly graphic depictions of sex and violence, as well as the use of courser language, in 70's cinema. However, Hitch seems to embrace these more risque elements with an unsubtly horny Babs Harris and some well placed cuss-words. The couples' parallel transgressions - petty scams vs. big time scores - pleasantly predicts Woody Allen's "Crimes and Misdemeanors" (1989), and despite it's generally lighter tone, it's one of the better of Hitchcock's minor works. It's nice to see that the old bulldog never lost his touch, even after a handful of late career disappointments.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Eaten Alive
Tobe Hooper
1977
Hooper's first directorial effort after his horror masterpiece "The Texas Chansaw Massacre" sees him returning to the fertile fields of rural psychos. Neville Brand runs a shabby motel deep in swamp country. When he's not mumbling to himself and scratching figures in a notepad, the wooden-legged nut feeds folks to the massive pet croc (from Africa!) on his property. This one gets off to a slow start with a by-the-books murder of a failed hooker, the evidence being promptly erased by Brand's reptilian garbage disposal. Luckily the picture picks up when a seemingly normal family is forced to bunk down in the menacing motel - the family dog has become crocodile chow, leaving their little girl traumatized. In private, the father proves to be a bonafide wackjob, and the mother a pill-popper. When the family's situation goes South, the daughter winds up beneath the motel porch hiding from a scythe wielding Brand. The sets are a touch wooden and the heavily colored lighting is tacky, but Hooper excels in instilling terror not from sudden scares, but in morbidly lingering on the horror of an unsound mind - the alien otherness of psychosis. The presumably animatronic crocodile prop works with varying success. At times it's terrifyingly large but appears comically small when the pooch gets mowed down. Top it off with Robert Englund (Freddy Kruger!) as the town stud and lots of lady toplessness and you've got a winning chiller.
1977
Hooper's first directorial effort after his horror masterpiece "The Texas Chansaw Massacre" sees him returning to the fertile fields of rural psychos. Neville Brand runs a shabby motel deep in swamp country. When he's not mumbling to himself and scratching figures in a notepad, the wooden-legged nut feeds folks to the massive pet croc (from Africa!) on his property. This one gets off to a slow start with a by-the-books murder of a failed hooker, the evidence being promptly erased by Brand's reptilian garbage disposal. Luckily the picture picks up when a seemingly normal family is forced to bunk down in the menacing motel - the family dog has become crocodile chow, leaving their little girl traumatized. In private, the father proves to be a bonafide wackjob, and the mother a pill-popper. When the family's situation goes South, the daughter winds up beneath the motel porch hiding from a scythe wielding Brand. The sets are a touch wooden and the heavily colored lighting is tacky, but Hooper excels in instilling terror not from sudden scares, but in morbidly lingering on the horror of an unsound mind - the alien otherness of psychosis. The presumably animatronic crocodile prop works with varying success. At times it's terrifyingly large but appears comically small when the pooch gets mowed down. Top it off with Robert Englund (Freddy Kruger!) as the town stud and lots of lady toplessness and you've got a winning chiller.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Saw III
Darren Lynn Bousman
2006
After viewing the first three Saw installments I've come to the conclusion that while these films aren't particularly good, they are definitely addictive. So far number three has proved best in the franchise, being on par or better than the first, and far superior to part two. The hokey cops are finally done away with for the most part, as they're either violently dispatched or shoved deep in the background. Crazy grandpa Jigsaw is still kicking around with his ex-junkie sidekick, and cooks up another overly elaborate plan involving a dedicated doctor and a revenge obsessed father. This being a Saw film there's a surefire twist ending (a little more far-fetched than usual) and a handful of nutty traps. Thankfully Tobin Bell gets to chew up the screen a little more, and is more involved in the action, receiving some frontier medicine in the form of a power-drill trephined skull. Gore aside, the most rewarding element here is the rocky sensei/pupil relationship between Amanda and Jigsaw, one in which the learning curve is severely hampered by an inoperable brain tumor. The ice-locker trap is a complete throwaway, but the pig-slop one - in which a man risks drowning beneath frapped pork bits - sufficiently makes up for it. Unlike the first two efforts this one seems far less sequel friendly, which is definitely making me interested in "SAW IV." I'm ready for another dose of cheap cinema crack.
2006
After viewing the first three Saw installments I've come to the conclusion that while these films aren't particularly good, they are definitely addictive. So far number three has proved best in the franchise, being on par or better than the first, and far superior to part two. The hokey cops are finally done away with for the most part, as they're either violently dispatched or shoved deep in the background. Crazy grandpa Jigsaw is still kicking around with his ex-junkie sidekick, and cooks up another overly elaborate plan involving a dedicated doctor and a revenge obsessed father. This being a Saw film there's a surefire twist ending (a little more far-fetched than usual) and a handful of nutty traps. Thankfully Tobin Bell gets to chew up the screen a little more, and is more involved in the action, receiving some frontier medicine in the form of a power-drill trephined skull. Gore aside, the most rewarding element here is the rocky sensei/pupil relationship between Amanda and Jigsaw, one in which the learning curve is severely hampered by an inoperable brain tumor. The ice-locker trap is a complete throwaway, but the pig-slop one - in which a man risks drowning beneath frapped pork bits - sufficiently makes up for it. Unlike the first two efforts this one seems far less sequel friendly, which is definitely making me interested in "SAW IV." I'm ready for another dose of cheap cinema crack.
Sisters of the Gion
Kenji Mizoguchi
1936
The second film in the Criterion Eclipse "Kenji Mizoguchi's Fallen Women" box is the most well known, with it's debate on the Geisha profession in a rapidly modernizing and militarizing Japan. The titular sisters are day-and-night opposites with older sis Umekichi willing to forfeit financial gain in the name of personal satisfaction in a job well done. The younger Omocha, embittered by a profession she finds degrading (her name literally translates to "plaything"), opts to con her clients and fleece them for all she can. Like the character motivations in the prior "Osaka Elegy" (1936), Mizoguchi imbues a rare quality of complexity in the depiction of his Geishas' philosophies. While Umekichi's humanity and sympathy for her downtrodden patron makes her the more appealing of the two, her unthinking servile self-sacrifice ultimately paints her as a bovine rube. Omocha's conniving verges on villainous - plying men with drinks and meddling in Umekichi's affairs behind her back - but her final sickbed howl evokes a genuine agony leveled against her forced servitude. "Sisters of the Gion" is not a subtle picture in terms of structure and drama, but is a powerful provocation for a strongly traditional society in transition. With this film, Mizoguchi poses a question he does not intend to answer.
1936
The second film in the Criterion Eclipse "Kenji Mizoguchi's Fallen Women" box is the most well known, with it's debate on the Geisha profession in a rapidly modernizing and militarizing Japan. The titular sisters are day-and-night opposites with older sis Umekichi willing to forfeit financial gain in the name of personal satisfaction in a job well done. The younger Omocha, embittered by a profession she finds degrading (her name literally translates to "plaything"), opts to con her clients and fleece them for all she can. Like the character motivations in the prior "Osaka Elegy" (1936), Mizoguchi imbues a rare quality of complexity in the depiction of his Geishas' philosophies. While Umekichi's humanity and sympathy for her downtrodden patron makes her the more appealing of the two, her unthinking servile self-sacrifice ultimately paints her as a bovine rube. Omocha's conniving verges on villainous - plying men with drinks and meddling in Umekichi's affairs behind her back - but her final sickbed howl evokes a genuine agony leveled against her forced servitude. "Sisters of the Gion" is not a subtle picture in terms of structure and drama, but is a powerful provocation for a strongly traditional society in transition. With this film, Mizoguchi poses a question he does not intend to answer.
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