Aug 31, 2007

Death Sentence

Wan, 2007



“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” An old Klingon proverb, we are told at the beginning of revenge epic Kill Bill. And who doesn’t like being served a nice, chilled dish of a revenge movie from time to time? The latest is the vigilante justice movie Death Sentence by James Wan of ‘Saw’ fame and starting Kevin Bacon. If you are familiar with the Death Wish movies, you’ll be familiar with Death Sentence, as they are both based on the same book.

Basically, a man’s son is killed in what appears to be a convenience store robbery (but actually turns out to have been a gang initiation killing), and while they killer is caught, he slips through the fingers of the justice system and is let free. Nick Hume (Kevin Bacon) is of course outraged that the man who killed his son isn’t getting at least life in prison, and you can see where the movie goes from there. Hume basically starts a one man gang war with the thugs and they in turn go after the rest of his family. It is fairly simplistic, but then again, what revenge movie isn’t? It’s about a guy just trying to avenge his son’s death, and that’s what you should expect going into it. Now I won’t reveal anymore of the plot, so you can feel safe reading on if you haven’t seen it.

Death Sentence actually works better than I expected, especially with the terrible reviews it got. However, the problem is it could have worked a lot better, and after about half way through the movie a lot of things happen that almost make you scratch your head, wondering just what exactly the screenwriter was thinking (or smoking) when he wrote this movie. The driving force of the movie is basically Kevin Bacon. If it wasn’t for him, this ship would have sunk - and fast. But he delivers an extremely effective performance, both as a man who just lost his son and also as a man who is out for justice. I don’t know who thought of casting Kevin Bacon, but it was a great decision and he delivers.

And of course, being a revenge movie you are going to have some action revenge scenes, and I was kind of surprised that they delivered in this. They are pretty intense and you can really feel the blows and see the hits. This is defiantly not a pg-13 affair – and it doesn’t feel over stylized or manically edited (like the director’s previous Saw movies), either. There is even a really great tracking shot that went on for quite a few minutes about a third of the way through. After a while I realized what I was watching hadn’t been cut for a while, and it was actually a very well constructed sequence, I was impressed. The second half of the movie is decidedly over the top, and sometimes goes too far, but I still think if you are just sitting there to see a revenge movie, then you’ll generally be happy with the revengin’.

But despite a very strong Kevin Bacon and some action scenes that deliver, Death Sentence is far from perfect. There are a lot of really poorly set up sub plots (i.e. the one with the police detective, or the one with the fat guy in the Bubbles glasses) which didn’t serve to accomplish anything other than...well I’m not sure what they were going for with those at all. In addition to this, there are some pretty big plot holes... maybe I wouldn’t call them plot holes, but I would say there are defiantly some instances where you find yourself wondering, “after all this shooting in the middle of the busy city, you’d think there would at least be some police sirens,” and things like that. In addition to this there are a lot of sequences which would have been fairly strong on their own legs, but the filmmakers seemed to always jump in and have a character come from nowhere to explain the obvious or cue emotional music in a scene that didn’t need it. Instead of just letting the audience watch the scene unfold and support itself, they seemed to always seemed to interrupt the flow to explain things to the lowest common denominator. “Hey, maybe they won’t know they are supposed to feel sad now. Put some sad music in there.” It comes off as lazy screenwriting and a lack of respect for the audience.

But the biggest problem of all with Death Sentence is how it seems to justify everything Bacon’s character does. While we do sympathize with him, and we do want him to succeed and avenge his son’s death, I feel that the movie was doing one thing but saying another. It was showing how revenge ultimately doesn’t fix the problem. He doesn’t get his son back and he actually makes things a lot worse for him and his family. Sure, he gets to have some revenge, but at what cost? This is what Death Sentence seemed to be doing, it’s what we saw, and in that respect I actually think it was thematically strong. But what it seemed to be saying was that Bacon’s character was doing the ‘right’ thing and that in the end it all ‘comes out in the wash’ type thing. But that makes no sense because we just saw Bacon’s character have his life torn apart in pursuit of revenge and we saw him loose everything – so why did the movie seem to always want to say otherwise? We clearly just saw Bacon’s character ruin his family’s lives, so why try to make it look like he did the right thing?

So Death Sentence does have a lot of flaws – giant, gaping, nearly fatal flaws – but it does seem to somehow stay afloat. It’s a boat that has a giant hole in its hull but just doesn’t quite seem to want to sink. What’s keeping it from going under is the exceptional Kevin Bacon who turns in a performance that basically makes the movie, and a series of serviceable action sequences which are generally intense and satisfying, if over the top. It’s unfortunate that the movie sunk a bit lower during the second half due to some bizarre plot twists and “what just happened?!” moments, and the fact that the movie does one thing and says another is a huge, inescapable flaw. Death Sentence would otherwise have been a much stronger revenge film – one that has some fairly well done action scenes but one that also tries to actually say something about the nature of revenge. As it is, it’s a movie that has some fairly well done action scenes but one that doesn’t quite know which way it is going thematically and one that treats the audience like they are a flock of goats. But if you were interested in this movie in the first place, you should still give it a shot, even if you just wait for DVD.

Aug 23, 2007

The Invasion

Hirschbiegel


The Invasion certainly has the makings of a good summer movie; you have big name stars Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig and you have a plot about aliens taking over the world. What more can you ask for in a decent summer movie? Everyone loves movies about aliens taking over the world. The trailer seemed a promising mixture between intrigue and suspense, and while it came out late in the summer, it seemed like one of those movies that was simply a little late boarding the summer movie boat and that it would deliver none-the-less. Unfortunately for movie goers, The Invasion turns out to be a half baked, crusty excuse of a movie.

As I said, The Invasion certainly had potential; a plot involving an alien creature taking over the bodies of people as they slowly take over the world seemed intriguing. It is the 3rd remake of the original 1950s classic, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, so it was based on some solid material, and overall it seemed like it would be a quality thriller. After all, one of my favourite paranoia thrillers is The Thing, a movie about an alien that takes over peoples bodies and systematically picks off a band of Antarctic researchers. The Invasion actually started off decently, and I liked the atmosphere as psychiatrist Carol Bennell (Nicole Kidman) begins to notice that people are acting a bit ‘strange’, but as the movie continues it enters a sharp nose dive and spirals out of control, never recovering. By the last half hour The Invasion is nothing but a smouldering pile of wreckage.

One of the problems with The Invasion is that so much of it is utterly absurd, yet the movie takes everything so dead pan seriously. The ‘alien’ that is taking over the bodies of humans turns out to be nothing more than a virus, and the humans that have been infected by it are not too much more compelling or scary. For most of the movie they just walk around the city streets in a sort of trance, occasionally looking blankly at the main characters. It is supposed to be ominous and scary, but it just looks really weird, and after a while it becomes quite juvenile and silly. To make matters worse, when you are cornered by one of the infected, what do they do? They vomit all over your face. When you expect to see a movie about alien possessed humans bent on turning you into one of them and all you get are infected people who puke all over you and then walk away, it is a bit disappointing.

Furthermore, The Invasion has a strikingly stale, artificial feeling to it. It is the cinematic equivalent of a hospital operation room. It actually was very alienating, and I felt like the movie wasn’t allowing me to be sucked into the story. It kept the audience at arm’s length, allowing you to observe, but not participate. The pathetic attempts by screenwriters to have characters explain everything scientifically is just unconvincing and sad. The movie treats the audience like they are idiots and has no respect for them. The result is an audience that stands back and realizes just how stupid the movie really is. By the time the movie is at the last act, you know there is no salvaging it and all you can do is sit back and watch it spin out of control, crash, and burn. You would think it would at least be entertaining to watch a disaster unfold in front of your eyes, but surprisingly it was just really boring. This is not a ‘so bad it’s funny’ movie. This is a ‘so bad it’s...well just really, really bad’ movie. The ‘climactic car chase’, conclusion and epilogue are so half baked, contrived and stupid that when the credits roll you almost feel sorry for everyone involved. Kidman and Craig did not deserve this.

The moral of the story is to not go see The Invasion. It is slow, feels artificial and manufactured, takes itself too seriously and most importantly is just plain dumb. It’s a stupid movie. There isn’t often a situation where using words like ‘dumb’ and ‘stupid’ are sufficient, but in this case The Invasion is just that. At first I was thinking, “hey, this isn’t so bad,” but after about twenty minutes I could see why it got such bad reviews. By the last half hour I couldn’t help but just feel really sorry for everyone that was involved in making the movie – but maybe that was just me trying to deal with my boredom. If you want to waste two hours watching a movie about people that puke all over your face, then this is for you – otherwise, just plain avoid it.

Aug 22, 2007

Straw Dogs: An Exploration

Peckinpah, 1971

Sam Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs has always been somewhat of a black sheep in the world of cinema. When the film came out it was bombarded with criticism and controversy over the violence, and while decades later the controversy has died down, the film still sharply divides opinion in movie circles. Roger Ebert for example, hates the film. Others swear it as the best film Peckinpah ever made. Truth be told, it is easy to see why someone wouldn’t like, or even hate the film. It is a film that intentionally upsets the viewer’s preconceptions of what a movie and a narrative should be, and shatters the idea of what a ‘protagonist’ should act like. But despite this, I would still recommend most people check Straw Dogs out, because it is such a deep and layered film with so much to say that it would be a shame if someone missed an opportunity to experience this shocking, ultraviolent character study of a masterpiece.


Straw Dogs is set in Britain, in the foggy, obscure country side where David Sumner, a mathematician, and his wife Amy (Susan George) have just moved from America to supposedly get away from the social upheaval of the 1960s and 70s and live in a more peaceful environment where David can do his work. As the film progresses, it observes the playful but deteriorating marriage of the two leads, while at the same time focusing on the locals who are not too accepting of an American moving into their quaint village. David has hired a number of the rather conspicuous locals to fix up his roof, but they start to pick on him, making fun of him behind his back. David knows this, but he is a pacifist and doesn’t want conflict, so he lets it slide. But as time goes on, the men he hired to just fix his roof get more and more bold, their ‘practical jokes’ becoming ever more invasive and even dangerous.


The real meat to Straw Dogs lies in the character of David and the films incredible subtext on violence, which is not always dangled in front of the audience for easy digestion but instead requires you to step back and really think about what the film was really saying. David Sumner: Simple, inoffensive mathematician. The film actually gets the audience to sympathize with David at first because he really doesn’t seem like a bad guy. He may be a little meek, and seems a bit too caught up in his math, but he still comes off as a likeable type of guy. His wife, Amy, is a beauty but is completely the opposite of David. She doesn’t seem to appreciate his work, she is much more outgoing and promiscuous than him, and while there are a few early scenes where they seem happy together, you soon get the feeling that she is quite bored in their relationship. After a while, you begin to question both what she saw in David in the first place, and why she continues to stay with him.


As Straw Dogs progresses, poor relations between David and Amy become much more apparent. David just wants to be left in peace, and Amy feels bored and unappreciated. She gets into many fights with David, but David is a pacifist. He doesn’t like conflict, he doesn’t want to fight. But Amy ever so subtly pushes him and pushes him, and you can tell how much David is growing weary of her. When alone, he curses her under his breath. But never actually does so around her, because again, he is a pacifist and simply doesn’t want to rock the boat. David’s pacifism becomes an important aspect of Straw Dogs, because all his anger and frustration is never vented – it just continues to grow and grow inside of him. The film is such a fascinating character study in this aspect, because it explores just how much a human can take until he is brought to his breaking point.


The breaking point comes in the form of the rather miserable looking locals he hired to fix his roof. They don’t like the American, though it is never really explained why. It could be they feel threatened by a foreigner ruining their way of living, or it could be they are jealous of his alluring wife, which is a whole other topic which could be extensively explored on its own. But the men taunt and tease David, and later they begin to outright torment him. Since David is so non-confrontational, they see him as an easy target to bully. He never fights back, and in fact tries to remain quite polite towards them. But as their pranks turn to the morbid and the outright dangerous, David draws closer and closer to snapping. Straw Dogs studies David with a magnifying glass, and with every slight insult you can see David growing increasingly enraged, though he never lets on to anyone that the anger is growing inside him.


Eventually, the locals lure the easy to take advantage of David on a ‘hunting trip’, but of course end up stranding him in the wilderness. This is a dark turn in Straw Dogs, because while David is sitting in the middle of nowhere, the men go back to his house and confront his wife. What starts as a simple drink soon turns to lust, and before Amy knows it she is being beat by one of the men into submission and subsequently a rape occurs. This is the first major instance of violence in Straw Dogs, and it’s an important one because after a while Amy actually ends up smiling and she stops struggling. A lot of people felt extremely put off by this, but it simply is a case of Peckinpah making the audience feel uneasy about the violence. The rape seems almost worse in that she actually ends up liking it, and the rape often cuts to David who is bumbling around with a shotgun in the middle of nowhere while it is happening, as if to add insult to injury. David finally accepts that the others have long ago left, and ends up walking home in a sort of pathetic acceptance. David probably knew something like that would happen, yet he was too weak to say no.


When David gets home, he tells Amy he is fed up with the workers and that he will fire them the next day. Interestingly, Amy doesn’t say a word about the rape. It is as if she is so sick of his passiveness, that the rape was almost a way of getting back at him, and while she seems haunted by it, she perhaps relishes the fact that David has no idea what happened. She didn’t want the rape to happen, but while it was happening she found pleasure in the fact that David had no idea what was going on. And while she is haunted by it afterwards, she enjoys the thought of the dumb, fumbling David being none-the –wiser, and she doesn’t tell him. This is simply one of the many fascinating facets of Straw Dogs which could be explored entirely on its own.


However, the focus of this exploration is on David. He ends up firing the local men who basically shrug and walk away; the only real reason they probably even bothered showing up was to taunt him in the first place. This would have been the end of David’s problems with his bullies, but unfortunately for him a bizarre turn of events occurs and he ends up hitting a child rapist who is being hunted by the village with his car in the fog of the night. David does not know who the man is or that he is being hunted, however, and ends up taking him to his house, calling the local pup to see about getting a doctor. The men looking for the rapist are told where he is being held, and they set off for David’s home. This is what leads to the brutal conclusion of Straw Dogs, a sequence that is impossible to forget.


The men end up barging into David’s home and demand he turn the rapist over to him. But David has had enough. This is the last straw for him. He refuses to turn the rapist over, knowing he will be beaten and probably killed. The locals get physical with David and push him to the edge. David’s pacifism has been taken advantage of for too long. He decides to finally stand up to his bullies and kicks them out. It is interesting to point out, however, that David is not doing this because he cares about the rapist's well being. David is not a noble knight, he actually doesn’t really care about the guy. This is a very interesting part of the film, as David turns out to be a pretty despicable person when it comes to his motivations.


The men end up laying siege to David’s home and the violence erupts. At this point, David sees a chance to finally vent all his anger and rage – everything that has been building up. But the final sequence isn’t just about him venting his anger over the torment the men put him through. It is broader in that this sequence marks a point where David finally knocks down the walls of his passive idleness. He moved from America because he couldn’t stand the political turmoil. He became distanced and alienated from his wife because she was confrontational and always on his case. The local men were the last straw, they drove him to the brink, and finally he simply lets it all go.


What proceeds is one of the most brutal depictions of violence I’ve seen. Granted, since Straw Dogs has come out there has been much more visually violent scenes in movies, but at the very core of David’s final rampage of violence is a heated intensity unmatched by almost anything I’ve seen before. This intensity – this hatred – is what makes the scene so brutal. You can feel David’s rage as he fights and kills the intruders. What starts as keeping them out of the house turns to fighting for his life - but the brutal sequence makes you question David’s motivations behind the killing. He could easily have just sent the rapist out and saved himself a lot of trouble, but he didn`t because at this point he wanted an excuse for violence. And you can see it in his eyes, in his face. He is enjoying it. He loves it.


This is what I loved so much about the film. It takes a character like David who is a push over and shows how he has always inwardly wanted to just explode into violence. Straw Dogs reveals that inside everyone is a primal rage and that when pushed to the edge or given an opportunity, people are capable of incredible violence. The film puts a passive character like David in a situation where he has a chance to become the bully and simply observes what happens. All his life he has been bullied and pushed around, but when he finally sees a chance to do what he has subconsciously, and later consciously, wanted to do - go on a rampage of violence – he takes it. And for him it is almost a sexual thing. He is finally asserting his dominance and all of the sudden he is the bully, he is the one with the power. He finally is standing up to all those people who took advantage of his mild mannered personality and he loves it. It is not a case of him defending his wife’s honour, as he doesn’t even know she was raped. It isn’t a case of him defending the rapist, as the rapist really doesn’t deserve to be defended, nor does David really care what happens to him in the first place. He says he is defending his home, but really he is just creating a situation for himself which will invite violence.


After the last person is killed, David looks around at the bottom of the stairs and sees all the death and blood. The house is ruined and is strewn with bodies. His wife stands at the top of the stairs shaken and shocked. But he doesn’t really care about her. He goes up and leads the rapist to his car, driving him home, leaving a terrified Amy all alone in the house. He doesn`t give her a second thought. In my favourite shot of the film, and I have to say what may be one of my favourite shots of any film, a smile slowly creeps across David’s face. Not a smile of happiness or a smile of relief. It’s a chilling smile of sheer enjoyment. He loved the violence. It was the rush of his life. It`s what makes the character of David so intriguing to study. Peckinpah reveals through David just what sort of dark brutality man has inside of him; what kind of violence he is capable of. And the chilling part just how much he enjoyed it.


Of course, Straw Dogs has so much more hidden and buried inside of it. You can see underlying themes everywhere you look, just begging to be investigated. It`s all in all a fascinating looking glass into the heart of a man who is pushed to the edge – and it`s an unsettling look at just how much people are capable of under the right circumstances. It should be mentioned that for such a complex character as David to really work, you need to have a great actor, and in this case Dustin Hoffman turns in one of his most stunning performances. He is perfect as the quiet, mild mannered mathematician - and he is brilliant as a man who turns to primal violence.


All in all, Straw Dogs is a masterpiece because it has a certain intensity to the violence, and at the very core of the film you can feel the heart of David pumping, and when David explodes in violence, so does the film. The violence is shocking and brutal; hard to watch not because it is graphic, but because of how much David seems to enjoy it. It is a film you could watch many times over, always finding a new strand of subtext to pull at, and you would always find something new or fascinating. There are simply so many themes and underlying suggestions that it is overwhelming. David is an incredible character to study, and Hoffman brilliant in the role. But I think the thing that send chills up my spine and told me that this film is something special is that cryptic, sadistic smile that David reveals in the final shot. It was at that moment I knew that Straw Dogs is one of the best character studies about violence I`ve ever seen. A masterpiece in raw, unapologetic cinema.


Aug 20, 2007

The Last Samurai

Zwick, 2003


Looking back on The Last Samurai, I’ve come to the conclusion it’s one of those films that – despite all the flaws – you still love. Most of the time films are weighted down by their faults, which The Last Samurai is to a degree, but in this case there is something at the core of The Last Samurai which always seems to suck me into the world, warts and all. It’s a beautiful film – visually, musically and spiritually. It has a heart that most Hollywood epics lack, and that is probably why years later I still look back on The Last Samurai fondly.

The story, about a white man who ends up fighting for the samurai he was hired to kill, could easily have your eyes rolling; typical ‘American comes to save the day’ type thing. But instead, America actually is the bad guy in this movie and Cruise’s character, Nathan Algren, is the one who rebels against imperialist expansion. Granted, I do think the movie took it too far at times, and there is an obligatory ‘bad guy American’ character who felt like he was dropped in just so that Nathan have an opposite character as his nemesis, but overall I was still glad that they didn’t make it feel too much like Algren was going to save all the Samurai by himself.

Instead, The Last Samurai turns out to be more of a spiritual journey for Algren. Instead of him being a heroic do-no-evil hero, he is actually a drunk with no reason to live. When he is captured by the samurai and taken to their village, he begins a journey of self realisation and redemption. He begins to find inner peace, he discovers purpose. The audience very closely identifies with Algren’s journey because the spirituality and sense of harmony he seeks is something that everyone can relate to. I think that is why I can watch The Last Samurai so many times; I feel like I know what he is looking for, and I see it in the samurai way of life. There is defiantly a very spiritual aspect to the film, and it’s the strongest, best developed part – the heart and core – of The Last Samurai. I also really loved the character of Katsumoto, both because of the amazing performance from Ken Watanabe, and because I really liked how Katsumoto and Algren mirrored each other. It’s buried deep in the subtext, but if you look closely there is a very close relationship between the two characters – an ‘understanding’ – which was very well developed.

But what would a samurai epic be without battles and katanas? The Last Samurai features some fantastic sword play and battle sequences throughout. They are like intense torrents of adrenaline and emotion that carry you away. They are fantastically shot and you really get an appreciation of how much skill the samurai had in battle. The choreography is wonderful, and nothing is hidden with editing. You can tell they put a lot of work into the battles, and it shows. I did think there was a certain ninja battle that was very awkwardly inserted, as if they felt there hadn’t been enough action in the last 15 minutes, but beyond that the rest of the battles have meaning and purpose behind them.

The entire film is great eye candy, though, and everything looks breathtaking and stunningly shot. Beautiful scenery, excellent sets and all around superb production values in everything from costumes to props. I simply cannot fail to mention the incredible Hans Zimmer score which perfectly embodies everything about the film. The Last Samurai simply would not be the same without the score Zimmer came up with. It gives a rushing energy to action scenes and a gentle touch to the quite ones.

Unfortunately, the ending has to be mentioned. Everything was going great, even the final battle was a fulfilling spectacle and finale. But when the last samurai are all charging on their horses during their last stand until they are mowed down by the chain guns, things simply went downhill and you could tell the work of Hollywood producers was to blame. First of all, what are the chances that, of the 400 samurai who started the battle, the very last two happened to be Algren and Katsumoto? I mean they are the only ones alive on the battlefield. I found this was an incredible stretch. Furthermore, I thought it should have ended with Algren taking his life along with Katsumoto – representing Algren’s acceptance of the samurai way of life and finally finding his inner peace- because things keep going downhill for the rest of the film.

After Algren somehow makes it out alive, he goes to the Emperor and actually convinces him that the samurai way of life is something worth preserving and he kicks the American imperialist pigs out of the country, as if to justify to the audience all the samurai dying. And then Algren goes to live with the samurai and finally the film ends. It really should have ended 15 minutes before with Algren killing himself with Katsumoto instead of catering to the lowest denominator and making a few people who didn’t understand the themes of the film feel good when they walk out of the theatre. It’s unfortunate, but the ending of The Last Samurai does not live up to the rest of the film and kind of goes against a lot of what it worked to build.

But despite the blunder of an ending, The Last Samurai is still a movie I’ve come to very much appreciate and enjoy seeing even after its release all the way back in 2003. It has a heart to it - a spirituality - that most Hollywood fare completely lacks. There are flaws and problems, and you can tell that it didn’t entirely escape the clutches of Hollywood producers, but even so the core of the film remains intact. Algren’s journey is beautiful and spiritual - one that you find yourself relating to. And on top of that are some excellent sword battles, stunning photography, and one of the best film scores in recent memory. I guess the best way to sum The Last Samurai up is to say it’s a bit like the other person in a relationship; despite all their warts and flaws, you still love them.

Aug 19, 2007

Come and See

Kilmov, 1985



War movies are an interesting breed because the subject they focus on is so universal - humanity has been plagued by war since the dawn of time, and we are no stranger to it. Yet war films still tend to fascinate us, despite how chillingly close we’ve become accustom to the subject. Granted, many are excuses for set piece action scenes, and others are nothing but expensive pieces of flag waving propaganda – but when a war film does it right, it can be powerful material. Some of the greats include The Thin Red Line, Cross of Iron, and The Cranes are Flying. But Elm Kilmov’s 1985 masterpiece Id ii smotri (Come and See) transcends every war movie ever made. In fact, it’s one of the best films ever made, period.

The thing that sets Come and See apart from most war films is that it doesn’t glamorize it. A lot of war films – even the good ones – tend to glamorize war, inadvertently or not. There are not very many that make you hate war. Come and See makes you hate war. It has purity about it in this way I’ve never experienced in a war film before. I’ve seen films come close to it, such as Cross of Iron, but no film has ever been as pure in its revulsion of war as Come and See. It depicts war as it is: a sick, twisted, grotesque animal. The very fabric of the film seems to detest the very idea of war. I know this seems like an exaggeration, but having watched the film twice, I still can’t shake the feeling. It’s nothing I’ve experienced before.

Come and See is certainly not for everyone, however. It could nearly be classified as a non-narrative film. The main character is a Russian boy named Flor who is eager to join a band of Belorussian partisans. His face is filled with anticipation of finally being able to join the struggle. The film follows Flor the entire time, and the film is told entirely from his perspective. There really is not much of a ‘plot’, as there is no ‘goal’ in the film. It just follows Flor around as he finds himself experiencing the war and drifting closer and closer to what can only be described as hell on Earth. It has a wandering, aimless feel – but in a good way. The audience, like Flor, never knows what’s going to happen next because Flor is lost, both physically and mentally. He drifts through the battlefields, the wilderness and the swamps. He meets a girl who travels with him, but as soon as they find each other they are separated. He decides to travel back to his village, only to discover the population had been massacred. He is alone, he is scared, he is angry, he is confused – and the brilliant thing about Come and See is the audience feels exactly the same way.

It should be mentioned that Come and See is also one of the more ‘abstract’ war films you’ve probably ever seen. But this is simply part of the brilliance of the film. The sound mix is completely unconventional. The score is a haunting, chilling mixture of sounds. A droning plane over the sound of distant tanks mixed with the screams and wails of a crowd becomes the music. Sometimes there will be a dim piece of Mozart mixed with the sound of birds, but it’s distorted and muffled because Flor is shell shocked - and therefore so is the audience. A lot of the sound in this film is distinctly distorted. It serves to create a feeling of uneasiness, and even of alienation. The music and the layered, frantic, disorienting sound makes your head spin and as the film progresses it gets more and more intense until the horrific, climatic sequence where the sound hits a crescendo and doesn’t let up. It lets you know you’ve arrived in hell. But there are very few films that have took such marvelous advantage of the artistic capabilities of sound. Instead of having sound just for the sake of dialogue and so forth, Come and See brings it to an entirely different level where sound is a key instrument in painting the horrific experience that the film is.

Visually I loved how everything was filmed on location and how there are no camera filters or crane shots or anything fancy. I wouldn’t say it’s done documentary style, but it is done in a frank and realistic fashion, and it feels like you really are wandering the scorched earth of the battlefield. Even the technical aspects seem eerily real, such as some of the firefights where tracers are flying just above the character’s heads. When I looked into it, I found out this is because in certain sequences, they used REAL ammunition. I even read that Aleksei Kravchenko – the actor who plays Flor – said he could actually hear bullets whiz just over him during filming. No wonder everyone looked so genuine. But back to the visuals, I really liked the muted colour pallet and the way nothing is tampered with. It’s like they set up a shot in the middle of a swamp, filmed, and just kept it like it is. They didn’t doctor anything up or stylize with the visuals. It just looks real and it’s all and all a very ‘gritty’ film, visually.



Now I mentioned before the devastating sequence during the climax, and I’ve got to say more about it, because it’s one of the most overwhelming depictions of evil on film that I’ve ever seen. Basically, the Germans end up herding an entire village population into a church and lock them in. Flor ends up trapped inside as well, but so far no one is quite sure what is happening. The film begins to turn into a frenzied, manic, hellish nightmare. As mentioned before, the audio becomes thick, confusing, disorienting and terrifying. You begin to question if what you are watching even real? The German soldiers are like a band of thugs - dancing around, screaming, yelling, and singing. It’s like we are watching some horrible dream. Next thing you know the Germans start throwing grenades in the church, and before you know it they’ve set it on fire. They are laughing and enjoying themselves, it’s as if they don’t even think anything of it. They’re just going to burn 500 people alive and then go for a coffee break. It’s a difficult sequence to watch – both because of the subject matter and because of the way Kilmov was able to turn it into a surrealistic nightmare. It’s also interesting to note that even though it’s one of the most horrible, evil things I’ve seen depicted, you never actually see the violence. Kilmov was a master at horrifying his audience without having to use bloods and reaction shots, and this sequence can attest to that.

The final scene features a broken Flor standing over a picture of Adolf Hitler. The camera looks squarely on his face. At the beginning of the film his face was full of youth, vigour and enthusiasm. At the end, Flor’s face is weathered and wrinkled, like that of an old man. He aims at the depiction of Hitler and begins to squeeze off rounds into it. Every time he shoots stock footage of Hitler and the war cuts in and the manically edited music and sound kick in. Everything is moving backwards – the entire history of the war unfolds in reverse. Flor continues to fire and the unrelenting music, sound and frenzied editing continues until we finally rest on a picture of Hitler as a little boy. Flor stops, completely drained, his eyes empty and dull. His soul broken.

And that’s why Come and See is the masterpiece that it is. It is the most successful film I’ve ever seen that shows what war does to the very soul of a person. The film spits on war, it is disgusted by it. I’ve never seen a film before that made me so despise it. It uses sound, music and visuals to shocking effect. Kilmov disorients, frightens, and otherwise terrorizes us with his brilliant mixture of audio and visuals, and truly creates an atmosphere of sheer dread and horror. There are sequences in this film I will not soon forget, the images seared in my mind. Ultimately, Come and See is one of the best films I’ve ever seen because the audience can so closely identify with the main character. We feel his outrage, his anger and his broken heart. We feel hatred; we feel his loss of hope and humanity. When Flor is firing into the picture at the end, we are carried away in a torrent of raw emotion which has been building for two hours. All the wars, all the chaos, all the destruction, all the hate - Come and See is unique in that it allows us to experience it all, and by the end we feel drained and hopeless. An intensely emotional experience like no other; a masterpiece of film, and a horrifying looking glass into the horrors of what human kind is capable of.

Bourne Ultimatum

Greengrass, 2007



Quick, fast, versatile; a movie that opens at a sprinting pace and never lets up. It picks up in Moscow the night of the incredible tunnel car chase which ended Supremacy. Ultimatum is a continuation, as if Supremacy never ended. I watched Supremacy the night before I saw this, and it felt as if I had never even left theBourne world. We are dropped right in the middle of Bourne’s dark reality right from the first shot, and the film grabs you immediately with its thick atmosphere and stirring air of danger and intrigue. But be warned: it doesn’t let its death grip over you go until the credits - and even then, the movie doesn’t leave you - you want to see it again, right then and there.

Bourne sees "Madrid" on a computer as a lead. There is a shot of him walking away from the computer and it cuts – the very next shot we're flung right into Madrid. Ultimatum cuts out any unnecessary slack and ‘plot development’. We don't need to know how Bourne got this or that passport or this or that lock pick. We don’t even have to see him at the airport, or even taking a taxi to the airport. The film doesn't concern itself with anything that would slow the break neck pace. The few silent, calm moments that there are essential and powerful, and even though they don’t involve Bourne jumping through windows, they are still intense in other ways. These moments serve to give perspective to the characters and the situations, to develop a quiet, emotional moment, and to develop in the viewer a questioning of the morals of the characters.

Sure, Bourne is on the run and just wants to be left alone, but does that justify the people he has killed? Sure, Noah Vosen (played with brilliance by Bourne newcomer David Strathairn, is just doing his job, but does that make his actions right? Who are all these characters to choose who lives and who dies? It’s an interesting question the film explores. There is also some very emotionally intense scenes between Bourne and Nicky Parsons (who has been in all three Bourne films and is played by Julia Stiles, who seems to only get better with each Bourne film), and they serve to give a silent but powerful humanity and emotional charge to the film. Without spoiling them, I will only say that any other film would have had you rolling your eyes, but the direction the brilliant director Greengrass takes this film in, there’s no room for clichés and the requisite romance sequence. Greengrass is good enough that he doesn’t need them to make you feel emotionally attached and sympathetic to the characters.

In conclusion to that, Greengrass constructs some truly wonder and tender moments in the film, which hearkens back memories of the sequence in Supremacy where Bourne apologises to a girl whose parents he killed years ago. These are quiet, affectionate moments which most films strive for and few succeed in, but they are a stark contrast to the rest of the film which is happens to be a screaming, rampaging monster on crack with rabies and the Rage virus. Greengrass ramps the action sequences to a whole new level. He’s kept the shaky cam, which many did not like in Supremacy, but is frankly essential to the energy of both film. I must say that I heard no one complain about it in Ultimatum, though.

Anyways, Ultimatum is one foot chase, motorcycle chase, ‘jump through windows into people’s dining rooms chase after another’. It features what I think is the best hand to hand fight sequence in the whole series yet. It’s got a thrilling sequence in which Bourne directs a journalist to escape from his assassins. It’s got foot chases galore, ones which will be benchmarks for future films. And of course, the car chases. Every Bourne movie has one, and if you thought the one in Supremacy was good – it’s one of my favourites of all time – then you’ll love this one too. I do think it was perhaps too short, but you have to take into consideration the foot chase that leads up to it as well. And the fact that he drives a car off the roof of a building. I should also mention that the final part of the film takes place in New York, and –without spoiling it- I’ll just say there is a brilliant integration with The Bourne Supremacy which made everyone in the theater whisper amongst themselves. All in all, the incredible kinetic energy the film has was enough that I barely even touched the drink I paid $5 for. The popcorn was still almost full. I was simply too busy been mercilessly punched in the face by Ultimatum.

But the true success of the film is that Bourne is a vulnerable protagonist in an unfriendly world. There is no laser wristwatches, no fancy weapons, and there is no Austin Martins. There is only $5 worth of black market junk, a table fan, a stolen police car, and his ingenuity. We come to identify with the character of Bourne and eventually we grow more sympathetic and attached to him with each Bourne film. It doesn’t mean he is a good guy, which is something Ultimatum did a great job of exploring. He is an assassin who has murdered in cold blood. But we know that he’s trying to make things right, and for that we are on his side, as we can identify with that. We are not spies, but we have all done things bad things which we only want to make right. And since he lives in the real world and not the Bond world (sorry Bond, this review is really knocking your series), we feel like he really is vulnerable, which in turn makes every single action sequence all the more intense.

All in all, Ultimatum is the best film of the year so far. It has a brilliant balance between raw emotion - a genuine care for the characters - and the sheer velocity, hyper kinetic energy and pace of the film. Ultimatum is fast and in your face with the almost constant flow of chases and action sequences, but it is smart enough to know how to keep things in perspective and keep you emotionally invested in the characters of the story. It’s the ultimate action film for people who are tired of the genre rehashes, the cheap thrills, the complete lack of honest emotion – all the junk that is constantly thrown at us. It’s a film of raw, unchecked force and exhilaration while at the same time having a potent emotional core which can sometimes be described only as tender. It wasn’t quiet perfect - a specific question of character motivation was my biggest problem, and there is a spattering of exposition - but there was certainly nothing that ruins any part of the experience what so ever. Quiet frankly, you’re likely to be too involved in the story, the endless action sequences, and the pure energy of Ultimatum to realize if the Four Horse Men of the Apocalypse themselves came charging into the theater.

Blow-Up - a short essay

Michelangelo Antonioni, 1966



What is reality? Is it what we can see? Is it what everyone agrees to? Is there even such a thing as a universal reality? There are all eternal questions, and ever since we began to have the time to think about these things, there has always been question as to the nature of what ‘reality’ is, or if it even exists. Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni’s first English film sets out to explore this complex subject with Blow-Up, a deceptively simple film that turns out to be a brilliantly visual, complex venture into the very notion of what ‘reality’ means.

The plot is simple enough, even sounding possibly boring. Yet there is enough intrigue in it to initially attract you to the film. It’s basically just about a hot shot photographer who takes pictures of a couple in a park, only to find that he may have accidently taken a picture of a murder in progress when he looks closer. The actual film is very linear, simply following the photographer through his simple journey, but beneath everything he does and everything encounters is a well hidden but startling undertone of the bizarre. The film opens with a group of mimes in the back of a truck riding through London, yelling and screaming. Huh? The photographer (never named in the film) takes photographs of a model who is sensually writhing her body while on the ground, and he climbs on top of her in a sort of mock sex scene, but nothing actually happens. Uh..? The photographer then goes to an antique shop, and is suddenly struck with an incredible urge to buy an... airplane propeller. As soon as he buys it he completely forgets about it, until it is delivered and he just throws it on the ground in his studio, forgetting about it, like a child who suddenly has to have that one toy, only to forget about it a minute later.

What does all this mean? Well I’m not sure that anyone really knows what it all means. It is open to interpretation. The thing about Blow-Up is that it is presented in a way that you can watch the entire movie and think you understand it without ever having to question very much about the movie. To a lot of people, I`m sure Blow-Up is a straight up murder mystery and don`t even stop to think that there is more to it. And the thing is, they aren`t wrong! Blow-Up is about the nature of reality, so it only makes sense that the reality of Blow-Up be radically different for different viewers.

But for me it seems the main theme is defiantly reality, and what better way to explore this with a picture. A picture is definite, an unblinking eye that you can`t argue with. You take a picture, and that picture is a snapshot of reality. Right? Maybe not, as Antonioni explores. The photographer takes a picture of a couple in a park, but notices something strange. One of the figures is looking towards a bush. The photographer thinks he sees something in the bush and `blows up` the picture (makes a section of it bigger) to get a better look. Oh my, is that a face hiding in the bushes? The photographer begins to look closer and closer at the photo and blows it up more and more, until he is convinced that he has uncovered a murder plot. Eventually, he thinks he sees a body obscured by a bush, and goes out to the park at night to see for himself...surely enough, there is a body! At this point the photographer tries to convince people to come see the murdered person he found, but is able to convince no one to come with him. When he goes back in the morning, the body has vanished without a trace.



So was there actually a murder plot? As humans, we have been conditions to see what we believe, but maybe seeing isn`t necessarily believing. Antonioni brilliantly demonstrates this with the entire blow up process which we become drawn into. Just like the photographer, we become convinced that there is a murder conspiracy from the photos. But if you look back at them, it`s rather foolish. That face we thought we saw in the bushes? Is it really a face, or is it just a blob of shadow and pixels? But because we want to believe something, our brains begin to trick us and we begin to actually see things that are not really there. And the more the photographer blows up the picture, the grainier it gets. The more he blows it up, the less clear the situation becomes until it reaches a point where we are just seeing blobs of white. But while you are watching the movie, you are convinced that those really are bodies, faces and guns! As I said, Antonioni was simply a genius for being able to draw us in like he did. As an audience, we become just as convinced of the murder plot as the photographer, and are just as sure that we see figures in the blown up pictures, when really they look more like blotches of white and black, which get progressively worse as the photographer blows up the picture again and again. But since we become more and more intrigued, we begin to accept and see things that our minds want to see. And then these theories become realities.

As mentioned before, the photographer goes to the park to see with his own eyes the body that he believes he found in the picture, and he finds it. But of course, the next day it has vanished without a trace. The grass doesn`t even seem to have been disturbed. Now why is it gone when we know we saw it!? Now the plot thickens, and begins to get scary. As an audience we begin to wonder if it`s possible that we didn`t see anything at all in the blown up photographs. Have we, like the photographer, been duped by them? And more over, did we actually see a body in that park? Now Antonioni is really getting heavy. Maybe it is possible for realities to exist within one another. Now we are getting existential and metaphysical, and at this point in the movie I`m loving it.

What the director is saying is basically that it is possible that simply from truly believing we see something that it becomes a reality in our world. The photographer and the audience both were convinced they saw a body in the photographs, and upon investigation, sure enough, one showed up! But is that only because we all convinced ourselves that there was one, thus creating one? As soon as the photographer fails to convince anyone that there is a body, as no one believes or cares enough to check it out, and since the photographs mysterious went missing in his studio, the body ceases to exist as it is no longer a private reality. As soon as the photographer tried to involve other people who hadn`t been tricked by the photographs into thinking and thus believing they saw something, the body stopped existing as there was now plausible grounds for it never having existed in the first place.

This is all just such fascinating stuff. Through the course of a simple story, the director manages to show us that reality can be both created and destroyed. It is not a fix entity, seen by everyone. Blow-Up­ is trying to make us realize that just because we see something doesn`t make it real. When the photographer is isolated, he is the only one who believes in the reality of a murder. He believes that because he can see it in a photograph – even though what he sees is just blobs – that it must be real. And when he goes to see it himself, he sure enough finds a body. He has created his own reality. First the reality is from the third person point of view of a picture, and then it is from a first person point of view when he sees it for himself. But Blow-Up shows us that just because we see something, doesn`t make it real, as in the end, the body simply vanishes, as if it never were there in the first place!



If you want to get even deeper, you could say that maybe the body really was real. There are quite a few instances in the film that suggest simply believing something is enough to make it a personal reality. The photographerer personally believes he saw a body, and then he actually saw one. Is it possible that maybe the body was real, from his point of view, only disappearing when he tried to involve outsiders not part of his separate reality? I think it is a possibility. An excellent example of this would be the brilliant ending; the photographer finds himself watching a group of mimes play a game of tennis, except they are not using an actual ball or rackets, they are simply pretending they have them, being the good mimes they are. But as the mimes play and others watch, the photographer becomes involved.

Soon it seems as if they are actually playing tennis, and everyone is following the ball through the air as if they could actually see it. Eventually, the photographer begins to hear the sounds of the ball hitting the racket, even though there isn’t a ball or racket at all. When the ball lands near the photographer, he purposely runs towards it and picks it up, carefully aiming and then throwing the invisible ball back into the game. Now we didn’t see a ball or racket, yet we began to hear it and everyone was interacting as if there was actually a game going on...is this because everyone watching that game believed they were watching the real thing, thus making it a reality? It begins fake enough, but eventually Antonioni actually involves us in it, and you don’t even notice yourself hearing the racket and ball. It just becomes real because we begin to believe that it is, and so does everyone else around the game. Seeing isn’t believing, simply believing is believing, and believing becomes reality.

But I could go on and on and on about the various ways Antonioni tackles the subject or reality, as well as many other sub concepts and even entirely separate ones, but I just decided to focus on those few main points. I simply find Blow –Up fascinating to no end, and could analyze it till kingdom come. Some things I didn’t mention, however, are the fantastic visuals and the performances. Visually, the film is a masterpiece, and if you know anything about photography you’ll love the visual in this. Instead of focusing on classic cinematography, Antonioni sets up all his shots much more like photographs, brilliantly taking advantage of colour, contrast and negative space. Since the film is about a photographer, this fits extremely well, and the end result is an amazing looking film, to go with everything else. David Hemmings should be commended for his great performance as the photographer, in which he depicts both a smooth, suave hot shot as well as a cruel, domineering woman hater, something I didn’t even touch base on but is still a major part of the film. The performances from the various sub characters who popup and disappear as soon as they’ve arrived also did universally great jobs with their characters. Blow-Up truly was a pool of talent.

Special mention also goes to the blow up sequence itself. With an almost total lack of music and dialogue, the sequence builds and maintains an incredible sense of tension and suspense with a beautiful flow and intensity to it. It gets you just as involved in the process as the photographer, and thus allows you to become as infatuated with the hints and clues he begins to find as he blows up the picture multiple times. Its a masterfully done sequence in a masterfully done film.

But what else can I say about Blow-Up without simply writing a book? There is just so much complexity and layers to it that you could watch it with someone and end up having completely different interruptions about what happened, or even if anything happened at all, as the last shot subtly hints. The first time I watched it I liked it, and saw it simply as a sort of murder mystery, yet the second time I saw it I basically watched a different movie. And when I watch it again I’m sure I’ll see entirely different angles. The philosophy behind it simply is fascinating to no end, and the execution is one of the most expertly done things I’ve seen in film. Without recapping my theories about illusion vs. reality, Ill simply leave it at that and add that the film also looks stunning, is deftly edited and features grade a performances all around. Blow-Up is ultimately not just a masterpiece; it is perhaps one of the best films I’ve ever seen, and look intently forward to seeing it many times again.

The Sacrifice

Tarkovsky, 1986



The Sacrifice
, master filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky`s final film, feels like the summation of everything he had previously accomplished. It was meant to be his final masterpiece, and I think in a lot of ways it is his dying words to humanity, telling us what he thinks has become of humanity as well as warning us as to what is destined to come if we stay on our present course. Slowly and deliberately paced, the first shot after the credits is over nine minutes long, and much of The Sacrifice retains this slow pace – yet right away, you are drawn in, and you know this isn`t just any film.

Everything Tarkovsky does in The Sacrifice is for a reason, and the slow pace is no exception. It is used in brilliant effect to allow us to become completely immersed in the world; and then, when the end of the world arrives, we feel as shocked and terrified as the characters who we have slowly come to know. In one of the best scenes of any Tarkovsky film I`ve seen, the main character cries out to God, asking for deliverance from doom and the ``animal fear`` which infests him and his family. There are a couple other incredible sequences such as this strewn throughout the film, including the final sequence of frightening sensation and tears, but all of them are in their own ways emotionally devastating, and a testament to the power of Tarkovsky.

The film is not flashy, it`s not expensive, it doesn`t have an epic score or huge camera cranes; it`s very simple and minimalistic – almost bare bones in that there is no unneeded fat - yet he is able to take what he has and exploit it to maximum effect. You can really tell that Tarkovsky took painstaking time to set up every striking shot, right down to the colour of a wall. The film looks incredible. Even his use of music (or lack thereof) and the genius way he employed sound to terrify the viewer must be commended. The end result is a beautiful yet frightening film about love, sacrifice and ultimately humanity as a whole.

There are sequences that go on for up to fifteen minutes of people simply talking about spirituality, mortality and the human race – sometimes they feature someone talking to themselves about such things – but all these conversations are brilliant little fragments of Tarkovsky`s mind that he decided to leave with us. The Sacrifice, an incredibly beautiful, haunting, restrained, and transcendent film with complex and engaging subtext and themes as well as emotionally shattering sequences, all of which are threaded together to form a tapestry that can be considered one of his finest works.

The Cranes Are Flying

Kalatozishvili, 1957



O
ne problem with so many romantic films, new and old, is that they are just so cheesy and predictable. Lean in for kiss, music swells, and you roll your eyes. It is so often unconvincing, as well, with actors who have no chemistry and screenplays just filled with clichés which really take you out of the experience. So you can imagine my delight to find a film that simply leaps over all of these pitfalls and even manages to run an extra mile! The Cranes are Flying is an overlooked 50s classic about a couple torn apart by war, and it is a tragic one at that.

One of the things I loved most about Cranes is that it was just really heart-warming without being manipulative or conventional. There are touching and moving scenes which simply involve the two lovers playing around and teasing each other. It’s very honest and down to earth. I’m not sure why, but there is a gift given to one of them to the other that just really got to me; it was just a stuffed toy, but because the movie allowed it’s audience to tap into the feelings of the characters, the present feels like the world, like it is something intimate and special. The simple stuffed animal really embodies Cranes’ emotional heart; simple and unpretentious yet touching and poignant. The love between the couple is genuine and when they are separated you feel like their link is never severed; and this is how Cranes turns to be an emotionally crushing film part way through.

Life seems to always get in the way of good things, and in this case, war pries the lovers apart; but because Cranes’ did such a good job at establishing their relationship and bringing us close to the characters, the reality of the lovers being torn away from each other feels just as horrible to us as it does for them. This is why Cranes’ is such a strong film during both halves – when they are together we feel their tenderness for each other, and when they are separated we feel their longing and desire for each other. It goes from being touching to almost depressing, it’s really a very sad story. Without giving away the last third of the film I will simply say it’s anything but a throwaway romantic film; it’s realistic, uncompromising and coldly goes against what you want to happen. An important thing to note that the film does not glorify war or Russia; many films from the USSR in the 50s were basically propaganda, but Cranes’ somehow side stepped this and simply sticks with the tender, transcending love story.

Last but not least, the visuals. While Cranes’ is a heart warming and later heart wrenching film at heart, it also has a particularly visual aspect. And when I say that, I’m talking about some of the best visuals of the 50s. I am shocked that more people do not talk about this film, even during cinematography discussions as it is simply an astounding piece of visual work. The camera is always doing fascinating things, is constantly framed in curious manners, and the lighting in simply fantastic, whether it be a face or a cityscape. There are some purely astounding crane shots, particularly one on a staircase which must have taken an age to set up, and contrastingly, there is startling use of handheld which is something I’ve never really seen from a film of Cranes’ age. One of my favourite shots sees a character rushing up a burning building only to swing open the door to find their apartment gone after a bomb destroyed it. The way the camera flowed with her up the building, moved in to reveal the scene and then the way it framed the carnage made me feel just as devastated as the person was to see what had happened to their home. It’s just breathtaking, Simply put, the cinematography is magnificently beautiful, elegant, gorgeous, and striking. I could go on and on, but basically, Cranes’ could be a textbook on what a beautiful film should look like.

So what makes Cranes’ such a fantastic film? It’s because it is a poem at heart. It has the almost lyrical beauty of the unadulterated and tender love story and the visual exquisiteness one would find in a painting by a master artist. It’s a cute film, it’s a touching film and at the same time it’s a heart breaking film. It even skilfully avoids a slew of potential clichés and other such dangerous traps, making for a much more genuine heart and soul. But ultimately what makes Cranes’ so memorable is that it is a transcending film, as if the love was real and someone captured it on every single one of the beautiful shot frames, as if it is in the fabric of the film. There is a real beauty to be found in The Cranes are Flying, and since so few people have seen it, I hope more go out to see it now that they know it exists.