Dressed to Kill (1980) & Avatar (2009)

Dressed to Kill (1980; written & directed by Brian De Palma)

Can enough good things be said about Brian De Palma? Probably. But not by me. The man is a master stylist, easily one of the best in cinematic history. Dressed to Kill is one of his late-70's, early-80's Hitchcock revisions and goddamn if it isn't one of his best movies. Much has been written about De Palma's love/emulation of Hitchock - positively and negatively - but in Dressed to Kill it might just be the film's biggest boon.

You've seen Dressed to Kill before back when it was called Psycho. Even if you haven't watched either of those movies, you'll probably enter Dressed to Kill with a good idea how the plot will unfold. But this is where De Palma's skill is required. De Palma makes the unfolding action feel fresh and surprising, despite following nearly every beat of Psycho. His camera cleverly dances around the killer's face and sexuality, and he allows the pulp potential - not mention comedic potential - of Psycho's iconic storyline to flourish majestically.

But it ain't just pulp. There's a lot more here. If there is one aspect of Dressed to Kill that can be considered superior to Psycho - different ballparks, I know - it's that De Palma truly examines the psychosexual implications of the subject matter. All the main characters are thoroughly trapped by their sexuality. Kate Miller (Angie Dickinson) by her sexual frustration. The killer by his/her inability to receive a sex change. Liz Blake (a sultry Nancy Allen) is a high-priced hooker who witnesses Miller's death and quickly becomes the target of the murderer; in the end, it's her peddling sex that dissolves the plot's mysteries.

All in all, an extremely satisfying De Palma effort. A must-see for his fans and perhaps a mind-changer for his detractors. This is a kick ass double bill with Body Double.

Avatar (2009; written & directed by James Cameron)

Oh the hype! Oh the controversy! Will the discussion surrounding Cameron's latest, Monstro-budget blockbuster ever die down? First, he nearly bankrupts himself to make the damn thing. Then he nearly bankrupts the studio. Then he makes some bold claims about the state of Hollywood cinema after Avatar's release. Then he steals the title from poor ol' M. Night Shyamalan's movie. Then the teaser hits, and fans are aghast at the pretty colors and cartoony look; this shit is gonna revolutionize the way we watch movies? Personally, the look of the trailers never really bothered me - Cameron's a writer/actioner foremost. If I felt any disappointment leaving Avatar it is probably due to overexcitement.

It must be said right off the bat: Cameron was not exaggerating about the technicality of his movie. It certainly will revolutionize cinema - blockbusters, anyway - and it is the new high water mark for CGI. Pandora is alive. It has a pulsing, believable ecosystem. Colorful creatures, plants, trees, floating mountains - they all feel real and right in front of you (I actually unconsciously reached for the screen at one point - no joke). Not just that, but Cameron attempts to explain the ecosystem scientifically - clumsily, yes, but it is a rarity for a Hollywood filmmaker to actually give a shit about the science behind his story. Cameron explores this extraterrestrial world with the fascination of any of the Planet Earth episodes. He understands that a movie world's believability should never be hampered by anything as ridiculous as physical existence.

The Na'vi, the tall, blue cat-like things which drew the harshest criticism after the teaser hit, are unbelievably realistic. The skin appears sinewy and soft, the facial features wonderfully expressionistic and individual. I had no trouble telling who was who between members of the tribe. Thinking back to this year's earlier Transformers 2, another technical marvel, in which I could hardly tell the difference between any two CGI creations, Avatar's success seems all the more pleasing.

But alas, I have issues with Cameron's baby. The script is weak. The love story, while well paced and believable, is handled with the same cornball preciousness as Titanic's. The story itself, while certainly backseat to the visual creation, reeks of hamfisted afterthought. The dialogue is some of the most stilted Cameron has ever written; not that subtlety is his greatest strength, but I don't remember anything in The Abyss called "unobtainium". It has a subtle-as-gang-rape social message: pro-indigenous, pro-green, anti-capitalism, and anti-war -- and it is as passionately felt as anything Cameron has ever written, so it is difficult to fault him for it.

Taken for its strengths, it is absolutely everything Cameron said it would be - and maybe more. If you're willing to ignore the pretty obvious weaknesses then ready yourself for a blast of a time - just expect to groan once or twice at some of the dialogue. Avatar is a blockbuster for our time.

Titanic (1997) & Terminator Salvation (2009)

Titanic (1997; written and directed by James Cameron)

Sorry. For better or worse, with the award-plus-box office numbers posted by James Cameron's Titanic it's gonna go down as a classic. But will it go down as a Gone With The Wind or a How Green Was My Valley? I'm afraid only time will tell that one. I've actually seen this, ages ago, but in anticipation for Avatar I thought I'd give Titanic - to date, the only James Cameron movie I haven't liked - another go 'round. I left the film appreciating it more than I did the first time (come on... I was 11 when it first came out. And male.), but my feelings were still mixed.

Titanic, for all it's ultra-high budget special effects (it was the first film to cost $200+ dollars and man alive has the CGI aged well), is deeply rooted in the ways of the past. It takes it's cues from classical Hollywood epics (Gone With The Wind is the obvious comparison, but there's a little Giant and Ben-Hur in here) and places its love story front-and-center - the sinking boat comes a distant second. In the past, Cameron's focus on the central human story while surrounding it with groundbreaking visual effects (Cameron's career can be read as a cline for the quality increase in blockbuster VFX) has been his biggest boon. In fact, I'm certain that it's why I - and so many others - have connected deeply with his Terminator duology, Aliens, and The Abyss. With Titanic, though Oscar may disagree, I'm not so sure it was the best choice.

Why did this movie need to be three hours long? Why, when the central love story is actually a fairly basic 'worlds collide' love story, does Cameron need three fucking hours to tell (with a big boat sinking at the end)? My best guess is to produce a suitably epic feel. Cameron populates Titanic with all kinds of bourgeois, deckhands, street urchin's, families, and crew members and, while it adds a feeling of vitality, much of it feels unnecessarily cluttered and undeveloped. The love story between Jack and Rose, filled with chemistry and passion though it may be, feels a little unrealistic and idyllic. I will concede that there are moments that the love story does live up to the ship's namesake.

There are things I liked. Cameron's final rhapsodizing of the crew members - specifically the captain and the ship's designer - is handled with great care. Hearing Victor Garber apologize to Rose for not building her a strong enough ship is completely heartbreaking and humane. Billy Zane's character, for the most part, exemplified one of Cameron's worst habits - writing fully one-dimensional villains: he hates Picasso, he thinks lifeboats should be sacrified for deck space, he "always gets what he wants", he ignores a lone child, then subsequently uses the child as an excuse to get on a boat. Well aware of this, I'm sure, Cameron imbues Cal with one of the films strongest messages (I suppose here I should writer SPOILER ALERT, as if everyone on the planet hadn't already seen it): he has Cal survive the ordeal. With this one act, Cameron sends a venomous message to the bourgeois who ignored the "unwashed" on Titanic and their spiritual successors today.

Terminator Salvation (2009; directed by McG, written by John D. Brancato & Michael Ferris)

In honor of Avatar, I just had to go from a Cameron movie to some Cameron-inspired nonsense.

I left the drab, passionless Terminator Salvation unsure of what I'd just seen: I think I liked the action, but the plot was ho-hum. I liked Sam Worthington, an actor I was unfamiliar with, but flat-out hated Christian Bale, an actor I usually adore. I was also unsure of what was going on in the timeline. The Terminator series has become so convoluted after Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, a movie people hated, and Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles, a TV show people liked (or... ?). Does Terminator Salvation follow Terminator 3? or Sarah Connor? To the best of my knowledge, Sarah Connor ignores part 3 and continues on its own path. Normally I hate blatant exposition, but I think Terminator Salvation practically begged for it. The plot the writers concocted - involving a pre-war test subject and something about a big bomb - is no less preposterous than the previous Terminator movies, but manages to be completely uninteresting.

Why did McG and company feel that this grimified take on the Terminator storyline was best? I suppose they were inspired of the success of Batman Begins and it's sequel. Salvation takes a similarly dark path down a familiar genre world. The biggest quality difference, I think, is character. While Batman Begins and The Dark Knight put Bruce Wayne through an emotional ringer and distinct character arc, Salvation does not feel that need. John Connor remains boringly, angrily heroic throughout. Anton Yelchin's Kyle Reese is background decoration. Bryce Dallas Howard worriedly hurries her way through the movie, with some relief at the end. I guess Sam Worthington's Marcus Wright constitutes the emotional arc of the story: he thinks he's human, he discovers that he's not, he discovers that he doesn't need to be flesh and blood to be human. Short Circuit? I can hear the snores from here.

I hope if another film of this Terminator incarnation is to be made they will take a hint from Cameron himself: people first, plot second, stuff blowed-up-good third.

Something different: at work I have to post a "Top 10" of the year list, so I figured I'd reprint it here. I'm a sucker for reading Top 10 lists, but when it comes to putting one together myself... no go. I can't organize my thoughts like that; can anyone really? Oh well, it's kind of fun, I guess -- plus I wanted to write a bit about each of them. Keep in mind that I work at a video store, so this is my 10 favorite DVD releases of the year.

10. In the Loop (2009; directed by Armando Iannucci, written by Iannucci et al.)

I'm a newbie to the political world of Armando Iannucci, but damn have I fallen hard. Immediately after In the Loop ended I tracked a copy of the first The Thick of It (the TV show that In the Loop continues) series. The show is good, but this movie is better - I demand the Oscars recognize its brilliant dialogue in the Adapted Screenplay category (I'll start holding my breath nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnow.). Iannucci has a verbal viscosity comparable to David Mamet and his control of a massive, colorful cast brings to mind Robert Altman.

But this isn't stale political whimsy. It's entertaining as all hell, even if you don't know a cock from a caucus (I doubt some of the characters do).

9. Watchmen (2009; directed by Zack Snyder, written by David Hayter and Alex Tse, based on the graphic novel Dave Gibbons and Alan Moore)

This was easily my most anticipated movie of the year and boy, was I worried. How do you adapt the ultimate graphic novel? If you're Zack Snyder, you don't: you just shoot the damn thing. The results aren't perfect, but how could it have been? This is the densest, smartest, most exciting, satirical, and well illustrated comic of all time. But, against all odds, it ends up onscreen as the Watchmen that I love; a little snipped, but relatively uncompromised.

The uninitiated might find it shaky and stilted at this point, but it is the most complete adaptation I could have ever hoped to expect. And personally, I found the change at the end logical - didn't bother me one bit.

8. Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About his Father (2008; directed by Kurt Kuenne)

I'm fond of telling people how much this documentary affected me. Not because I like bragging about openly weeping, by myself, and having to pause the movie to reconstitute myself, but because I've never had a movie hit me this hard. There's a moment about two-thirds of the way through the movie - believe me, you'll know it - that is simply one of the saddest things I've ever seen.

Which is actually why it didn't rank higher than this: I just didn't enjoy it. I know you aren't supposed to, but I can't imagine myself ever wanting to revisit this movie. Kuenne, a gifted documentary organizer, perhaps manipulates a little too much, but this is also the movie's biggest boon: it makes you feel like you're there, with the family, as they go through this tragedy. Shame on you Oscar for ignoring this brilliant documentary.

7. The Chaser (2008; directed by Na Hong-jin, written by Na, Lee Shinho, & Hong Won-Chan)

This is the best kind of movie: the one you don't expect in the slightest. I picked up The Chaser when it first came out, knew nothing about, and had my mind blown all over the back wall. From the great cinematic country of Korea, The Chaser concerns ex-detective turned pimp who discovers, after several of his "girls" have gone missing, that one his best employees if currently with the man responsible.

The premise itself is ripe, but the power of The Chaser is in how everything plays out. Joong-ho's (Kim Yun-seok, suitably bastardly) interactions with both the cops and killer are written fantastically. One of the strangest aspects of the movie is the fact that there's no mystery about who the killer is (Ha Jung-Woo, who is holy SHIT creepy). You're told right away, and seeing Joong-ho and police trip around to get him convicted is one of the strongest parts of the movie. The best Korean thriller since Memories of Murder, The Chaser proves Korea can kick any other country's ass in the thriller department.

6. Pontypool (2008; directed by Bruce McDonald, written by Tony Burgess, based off his novel)

Oh Canada! A good movie! How long has it been? I guess we've had a few recent ones (Amal and One Week come to mind), but this is so much better. An original horror thriller that brings to mind, without necessarily paying homage to, the early work of David Cronenberg. The plot revolves around a radio station crew on the morning of a - maybe - zombie outbreak. The outbreak is being spread through... nevermind, I'm not going to tell you. You'll have more fun finding out on your own.

The entire movie plays out inside the radio station and that is it's greatest strength: McDonald forces you to imagine all the scares and, if you're willing, it's terrifying. The climatic sequence plays linguistic gymnastics to find its resolution and, despite being a little too stilted, works wonderfully. If you thought Hard Core Logo was Bruce McDonald's high-water mark, get yourself a copy of Pontypool.

5. Drag me to Hell (2009; directed by Sam Raimi, written by Sam & Ivan Raimi)

No movie this year got my inner geek going like Drag me to Hell, Sam Raimi's gruesome, glorious, GREAT return to the horror that made his career! While I do understand that Raimi is basically just updating Evil Dead II (and possibly Army of Darkness) with a bigger budget and prettier stars, I really don't care. I really, really don't. The Evil Dead series is possibly my all time favorite. I don't even care if we get an Evil Dead 4, because it's right here!

The plot: an adorable Alison Lohman crosses paths with a terrifying Lorna Raver (if there were any justice in the world, Raver would get a supporting actress Oscar nomination) and what follows is trademark Raimi "spook-a-blast" fun. Those who take issue with its PG-13 rating should note that very same rating on the back of their Army of Darkness DVD. This is excellently, slimy fun stuff.

4. The Hurt Locker (2008; directed by Katherine Bigelow, written by Mark Boal)

I'm gonna come right out and say it: a woman killed the war movie. I don't think it's sexist to say so. Let's face it: nearly every war movie ever made has been directed by a man. I think it took a woman's perspective to make such a detached, visceral war-movie experience. It's also got the best action of the year (next to #3, which is in a class of its own), and some of the best I've ever seen in a war movie.

With The Hurt Locker, the 00's get it's Saving Private Ryan; a cool-headed war film that exploits its subject matter for nothing but amazing action scenes. You could spend hours interpreting the social messages of the movie, but Boal and Bigelow are careful not to condemn or condone the war. And the movie is all the better for it. This is about the people, not the politics.

3. Star Trek (2009; directed by J.J. Abrams, written by Alex Kurtzmann and Roberto Orci, based on the franchise created by Gene Roddenberry)

Roughly a millisecond into Abrams Trek I knew it was the movie for me: a slow pull away from hull of a Starfleet vessel reveals it approaching a "lightening storm in space". A demonic ship exits the black hole and lays waste to the ship, George Kirk, and the franchise as we know it.

And it just gets better and better: from the casting of Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine in the leads, to the unbelievably well-crafted, gravitationally unbound action sequences, to the dialogue and flowering of relationships, this Trek gets it all right. Sure, there are "problems". Nero's puzzling backstory/motivations. Kirk's unbelievably quick ascent to the captainship. A rushed third-act. But I'm not entirely convinced that any changes would have improved the movie. A classic figure appears to dole out some fatherly, third act advice - "Put aside logic. Do what feels right." - and holy hot-damn, does Trek '09 ever feel right.

2. Hunger (2008; directed by Steve McQueen, written by McQueen and Edna Walsh)

Like a parasite, Hunger burrowed under my skin and refused to leave. Since I saw it back in January at the Victoria film festival, it's striking images, it's nebulous message, it's uncompromised vision of human suffering have returned regularly to haunt me. Like Dear Zachary, it's a movie I appreciated more than I enjoyed, but unlike that documentary, it has compelled me to return.

I want to describe Hunger, but the words fail me. It doesn't fall into any accepted genre. I heard it described once as an "Avante-garde horror" movie, and I suppose that as good a way to say it as any. From its early almost-Slacker-like passing of protagonists, to its dreamlike resolution, Hunger is absolute, pure, and indispensable cinema. Steve McQueen must make another film, and soon.

1. Inglorious Basterds (2009; written and directed by Quentin Tarantino)

"The German's call them... the Bastards."

Tarantino moves in waves: he began to grow up with Jackie Brown, but got playful with Kill Bill Vol. 1; he started that "maturation" thing again with Kill Bill Vol. 2, but jerked one out with Death Proof. Here, we have the full result of his growth in a movie with the word Basterds in the title. Perhaps words like "growth" and "mature" don't really apply to Tarantino. After all, the Kill Bill's were made together and could not be more tonally different.

Basterds is unlike, and yet exactly, like everything Tarantino has ever done. This is a celebration of film, and examination of his love of film. The setting is WWII to France, but the real setting is cinematic history. Throughout the movie, Tarantino places his characters in and around movies, has them affected by movies, even has them make movies. His movie is not about the destruction of the Third Reich by the Allies, the Jews, the Americans, or even the Basterds themselves, but by cinema.

The controversial ending is, taken for what it stands for instead for what actually happens, is brilliant. It may well be the single boldest act I've seen in a "Hollywood" movie since Kevin Costner looked at the camera in JFK. Tarantino, you continue to prove yourself an indispensable, quixotic filmmaker, and this just might be your masterpiece.

So there it is. Not too exciting, but I liked 'em. It was good year. I was sad to have to leave out great flicks such as Tell No One, Trick 'r Treat, The Wrestler, Waltz with Bashir, The Hangover and a heck of a lot more. Hey, you can't win 'em all.

Casablanca (1942) and Angels & Demons (2009)

Casablanca (1942, directed by Michael Curtiz, written by Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein and Howard Koch)

That's right. THAT Casablanca. I had never seen it before. Finally got around to it the other night, and, well, it was good.

I know that's light praise, but come on. How does one watch Casablanca in contemporary times?EVERYTHING about this movie is classic pop culture. It felt like every other line in the movie had been quoted in something at some point (especially near the end... I hadn't even realized most of those quotes all came from the same damn movie). I had a pretty good idea exactly how the movie was going to play out before even putting it in. And, while I don't agree that it is the single greatest movie ever made, it's obvious from the get-go why the movie is a classic.

Everything is the movie fits. It just feels "right". Bogie, Bergman, Claude Rains, Paul Henreid (Loved his character -- it's become too much of the cliche for the"other" man to always be an asshole. He was likable, and there's never a question about why Ilsa loves him and Rick helps him), the setting (Ballsy. A biting portrayal of the Nazis while WWII was still a-ragin'. If the Nazis had won, Michael Curtiz et al. would probably have been dragged through the streets by their testicles) and plot fit perfectly together. It masterfully mixes genres: is it a romance? Is it a noir? A political thriller? There are even some comedic elements that don't feel at all out of place.

All in all, a great movie (as if I needed to tell you that) and a deserved classic. I perhaps failed to see why it has to show up on EVERY list of the greatest movies ever made, but, undeniably, it is fantastic.

Angels & Demon (2009, directed by Ron Howard, screenplay by David Koepp and Akiva Goldsman, based off the novel by Dan Brown)

Aaaaaaaaaaaand boom goes the dynamite.

Literally. There's a big explosion in this movie, perhaps the biggest I've ever seen in a non-Michael Bay movie. Aside from some shitty CGI the sequence is quite epic and marked the high-water point of my interest in the movie.

This is the sequel to The Da Vinci Code, a cultural phenomenon if there ever was one, and comes courtesy of the same, white director (I know most directors are white, but something about Ron Howard exemplifies all the lame things about white people). If possible, it actually ramps the ridiculousness of the first film up tenfold, and ascends it to the heavens. Brown goes far the fuck out of his way (assuming that the majority of this is actually in the book -- I will never read it) to pit science and religion against each other using the least realistic aspects of both. In fact, there are a couple of sequences that seem to be there purely to illustrate Dan Brown's aberration of the Catholic church -- if I still had any emotional attachment to my Catholic upbringing I may have been offended.

The plot goes something like this: A "popular and progressive" pope has just died, and the Vatican needs a new one. The Illuminati, an ancient, cross-bearing (no pun too tacky) enemy organization of the church, have stolen the most un-fucking-believably unrealistic depiction of "antimatter" from the Large Hadron Collider (yup) and are now threatening to ritualistically kill the most likely successors to the popedom (popeship? popeness?). The whole thing is a goddamn mess of conspiracy theorist cliches and astrology-level pseudoscience. There's a twist at the end that makes the Joker's plan from The Dark Knight seem logical and, with surgical precision, removes any chance the movie ever had of being taken seriously.

And yet it entertains. The whole thing is so over the top and brisk that it was nearly impossible not to be involved on a very shallow level. I guess that's something. If they'd removed all the junk science, potshots at the church and focused purely on the thriller elements, it might have been half-something. As it stands, however, it ain't.

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?(1962, directed by Robert Aldrich, based on the novel by Henry Farrell, screenplay by Lukas Heller)

It's an unfortunate reality that most classic horror movies have lost a lot of their effect over the years. Many have aged very well (no one can deny that Graf Orlok is still the most disturbing Dracula incarnation) what scared back then just simply does not scare now. This is not the case for Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

Baby Jane was a huge vaudeville star in her youth, constantly overshadowing her sister, Blanche. As they grew up, her sister took center stage and became an adored movie star; Baby Jane could never quite live up to her past success. After an accident confines Blanche (Joan Crawford) to a wheelchair, it falls to Jane to take car of her crippled sister. We soon see that, sadly, Jane has never quite been able to let the past go and decides to take advantage of her sisters sorry state.

By the end of the film Baby Jane Hudson (a demonic Bette Davis) has taken such a disturbing mental nosedive that even the hardest horror fans will be left shaken. Robert Aldrich uses the black & white cinematography (this was the early 60's, the B&W was a stylistic choice - a damned effective one) to maximize the creepiness of Baby Jane's psychotic descent. A puzzling subplot, involving a massively overweight songwriter (Victor Buono) starting a half-business, half-emotional relationship with the elder Jane, only adds to the disturbing factor. This comes highly recommended for anyone looking for a deep-rooted scare.

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2009, directed by Michael Bay, written by Alex Kurtzmann, Roberto Orci and Ehren Kruger)

What's there to say about Transformers 2 that hasn't already been said? How about "what the fuck"? This is a head-scratcher if I've ever seen one. I'm still not 100% certain what happened in it. Bay may have topped the spectacularly shitty Bad Boys II for pure, incoherent action.

The plot goes something like this: Sam Witwicky (Shia "Fast-forward" LeBeouf) is off to college, much to displeasure of his unbelievably obnoxious parents. A perfect storm of incoherent exposition - involving asshole Democrats, some ancient transformers, some kind of key-thing, and absolutely no respect for ancient Egypt - converges around him to necessitate going on a search for the Matrix of Leadership (?) in order to stop Megatron, revive a fallen comrade, save the (snore..........)

Saying that this movie has a plot is sort of like saying there are people who believe in creationism - it's true, but it still doesn't make any fucking sense. Trying to discern the individual motivations of characters, or who is fighting who in the action scenes is like trying to understand a language you've never even heard of. There are probably an upwards of thirty transformers in this movie, but I could maybe pick two or three out of a line-up (it should be said that the CGI is amazing. If only the same could be said for the design of the robots) .

I still don't understand how Kurtzmann and Orci, creators of the excellent TV show Fringe and writers on the new, awesome Star Trek, had anything to do with this. I mean, Star Trek moved with the same kind of vigorous pacing, but it kept me caring and consistently interested. Every scene had at least a modicum of purpose to the plot. What makes it even worse is that I can see their influence here. There is (possibly) a half-decent movie buried somewhere underneath this loud, bright, angry clusterfuck. Star Trek and Transformers 2 can be watched side-by-side as a handy "How to" and "How to not" make a summer blockbuster guide.

The Killing (1956, directed by Stanley Kubrick)

Peppered with gun moles, hard boiled tough guys, a dastardly racetrack robbery, a devious femme fatale (Marie Windsor, who lives the role), and a host of some of the best noir dialogue you’ll ever hear (“You like money. You’ve got a great big dollar sign where most women have a heart!”) “The Killing” probably fits in better with its genre – film-noir, if you hadn’t guessed – than another film Stanley Kubrick ever made.
The film takes a non-linear look at a robbery, orchestrated by Johnny Clay, a just-out-of-prison, mean sunofagun, at a local racetrack for the tidy sum of two million dollars – “If I’m gonna commit crimes again, there gonna be worth committing”, or something to that effect, Clay says at one point. To pull this ambitious heist he puts together a host of misfits and part-time criminals. One of these men, George Beatty (played by Elisha Cook Jr. – who, after watching this, I think William H. Macy has been trying to channel for his entire career), makes the mistake of telling his wife, the two-timing Sherry Peatty (Windsor); she, in turn, gets her boyfriend into the mix and, well, you can imagine the plan gets pretty royally fucked.
Kubrick’s intense attention to detail is noticeable immediately, though, as I stated earlier, this is Kubrick doing major genre work. It figures that it’s universally considered one of the best of all time, Kubrick could seemingly do no wrong when it came to working within, and subsequently eviscerating, a studied genre (he was quoting once as saying that one day he’d like to make a porno, just to show them how it’s done). If you’re a Kubrick or noir fan, this is a no-brainer; if, for some reason, you are not a fan of either of those things, you’ll probably have trouble seeing what all the fuss over The Killing is about – aside from maybe the Reservoir Dogs-ian structure.

A Serious Man (2009, directed by Ethan and Joel Coen)

We go from Kubrick to a couple of Kubrick-obsessed filmmakers with the seriously awesome “A Serious Man”. Larry Gropnick (played the perfectly-faced Michael Stuhlbarg), a timid, Midwest physics professor, sees the threads of his life begin to pull apart with the announcement that his wife is planning on leaving him (but no hanky-panky has occurred, Gropnick is certain) for a neighbor.
The Coens’, this being probably their most personal movie to date and, certainly, the most Jewish focused since Barton Fink, are masters of putting their protagonists through the ringer, and A Serious Man is no exception. Larry gets the “Job” treatment, having every aspect of his life and faith tested to the point that he can find solace in nothing and he begins to confuse his dreams with reality.
The Coens, possibly my all-time favorite filmmakers, are on their game here in a big way; this is most certainly their show. The setting (a Minneapolis suburb where they grew up), the characters (their father was also a University professor) and the themes can all be traced back to their youth and previous films. A Serious Man is another fantastic film for their already flooring canon.

Hello, good reader, and welcome to my blog of movie reviews. I'm a bit of a film geek, and in this blog I'm going to post a weekly blurb-review of a classic (of which, most of the time, there will be no very good reason for me to have taken this long to see) or generally considered "art house" film and a more contemporary one; usually in stark juxtaposition to the earlier film, quality-wise.

If you are unfortunate enough to have stumbled in here by mistake (probably), I won't be offended if you leave; this is mainly just a personal blog to give my critical writing skills a much-needed honing. If, for whatever reason, you came here on purpose (unlikely), then please feel free to watch whatever movie I've reviewed and complain about my opinion. Also, read the "movie-a-day" or "movie-a-week" columns on Ain’t-it-cool-news; they were the main inspiration for this blog (that, and forcing myself to watch more classic movies).

This week:

"Hiroshima Mon Amour" (1959, directed by Alain Resnais)

Boy, does Resnais have a knack for imagery that kicks you straight in the teeth. Following quickly on the heels of his classic documentary short "Night and Fog", comes a very unorthodox love story between a French actress and an ex-WWII Japanese soldier. The film begins with a series of haunting, nebulous images of Hiroshima architecture, the two lovers embracing, bombed-out landscape, etc, which, taking advantage of the peotic lull, quickly segues into a brutal reel of post-"Little Boy" bomb victims. Like the unflinching concentration camp images from "Night and Fog", Resnais lets you know immediately that this will not be a comfortable film; I'm not ashamed to say I looked away more than once.

The man and woman, referred to only as that, share a sexy night together. The man, played by an amazing Eiji Okada, who, reportedly, did not know any French (he learned basic words and spoke the rest phonetically), falls immediately in love with her and asks her to stay with him in Hiroshima. What follows is an account of the woman's first true love (I will not reveal his identity here; it plays as a particularly poignant surprise) and why she cannot allow herself to love this new man.

Resnais and writer Margeurite Duras show immense depth of characterization, allowing the characters to be completely abnormal, especially for the time, and yet completely understood. A love story between a woman, who lived in France during the Nazi occupation, and a Japanese WWII solider must have been quite a shock when the film was first released and, apparently, was extremely controversial, especially in Resnais’ native France.

The last act of the film gets a little too stilted for its own good (I had difficulty telling who was doing what and where and why at a few points), but, generally, the narrative flows smoothly. Throughout, Resnais subtly criticizes the West’s decision to drop the bomb, but, other than in the opening scene, never makes the implication too obvious. “Hiroshima mon Amour” suggests a better world through diversity, and has a cultural clairvoyance very rarely seen in films today, let alone in the 1950’s.

And...

G.I. Joe (2009, directed by Stephen Sommers)

Like Resnais, Sommers suggests a better world through diversity: the Joe’s are no longer ‘real American heroes’, but a multi-cultural band of do-gooder badasses. Unlike Resnais, that’s about the only good thing you can say about the movie. Sommers has taken “G.I. Joe’s” cartoon roots to heart and made a film that can barely even be referred to as that. It’s a cacophonous clusterfuck of loud noises and embarrassingly crappy action scenes. An action set-piece that takes place in Paris mirrors the opening scene of “Team America” so closely that part of me has to believe that it was at least marginally satirical. Channing Tatum, kind-of-OK in this year’s “Fighting”, provides no charisma whatsoever in the lead, and is backed up by an equally adept cast, the only standout of whom is Joseph Gordon-Levitt, the only cast member to get suitably hammy.

Sommers brand of human-faces, CGI-everything else, ensures that the movie captures the essence of its cartoon forefather; in other words, the 8-to-13 year-old demographic is sure to love this, but, unless you had serious love for the cartoon as a youngster, almost no one else will. It’s marginally more watchable than Sommers’ own “Van Helsing” from 2004, if for no other reason than because I care a whole lot more about Universal movie monsters than a pro-war children’s cartoon. One can only hope that Sommers' realizes now that no one on the damn planet takes him seriously.