eXistenZ (1999)

Cronenberg’s film feels more relevant now than it must have upon its release more than a decade ago. The film exists in a videogame world where the line between reality and virtual reality is not always distinct. The advancing complexity and quality of today’s video games are much closer to making this possible than they were ten years ago and we can only imagine what ten years from now will look like. But unlike many forward looking films, Cronenberg’s resists the urge to imagine a world of shiny technology in favor of one more primal. The world in eXistenZ is based in the mind with access granted via bodily penetration, which opens up a world of mutated amphibians, and guns made of bone and teeth.

Having first viewed the film nearly two years ago, my appreciation for it has only grown. The diegetic uncertainty of the characters is projected onto the audience as they try to decipher what is happening and why. Per usual, Cronenberg infuses the virtual world with varying examples of grotesquery. The assembly line of deformed and hybrid amphibians seem to approach normality in a world where genetic manipulation and hazardous chemical spills already transform the creatures. The living game controllers are a bit farther off whereas the bioport from which they receive energy might not be such a stretch. The greatest examination Cronenberg plays with is the concept of the game world and our willingness to partake in it. The eXistenZ players are literally in a state of suspended animation while their minds explore a fictitious yet more stimulating environment. It is a very unexaggerated example of how much time is consumed by mindless entertainment. Further, the film examines the morality found in a virtual world. Avatars come and go at the hands of the protagonists without any thought of the bodies that control them. Cronenberg exaggerates the violence, playing to the tradition of expending a great quantity of ammunition.

eXistenZ could be seen as a game created entirely in the flesh. The means by which it is accessed and played are void of synthetic components and contained in the neural networks of the squirming controller pod. The umbilical cord that plugs into the spine will bleed when severed and then pod itself can become diseased. Dissection of both pod and gun finds no mechanical parts, only flesh, bone, blood, and living tissues. Is Cronenberg suggesting that one day our entertainment will literally be fused with our bodies?

I don't think so. Rather, he highlights potential physical, social, psychological, and ethical dangers of being consumed by virtual world created solely for entertainment. One of the game testers comments on the dilation of the game whereby the hours spent in a game encompasses more time than the external world. Players could live for hundreds of years inside the game, and if given the opportunity, many probably would. Cronenberg certainly realizes the inherent danger in a society should it be consumed by video gaming zombies. And from this he makes an awesome movie.

Kubrick Faked the Moon Landing

I absolutely love conspiracy theories. The notion that one of man’s greatest feats didn’t happen has interested me ever since my first encounter with its proposal; in 8^th grade science class. As the years went on, my interest in film expanded and my introduction to the cinematic lexicon of Stanley Kubrick occurred sometime during high school. Yet it was only within the last year that I became savvy to a connection between the two. And believe me, I would love for it to be true.

Kubrick, if anything, was likely a veritable genius. And, if the metaphor rings true, likely a madman as well. The pictures of the artist towards the end of his life see his face covered with a thick beard, only exaggerating the intensity of his eyes. Something is going on behind them. Thus, of any renowned and talented filmmaker, Kubrick would be the one to help the National Aeronautics and Space Administration achieve the goal of landing on the moon. Or at least convincing everyone they had done so. And while I would love, very much, to believe such a tale, I would also like to think that we did put human beings on a celestial rock other than our own.

Thus, Jay Weidner’s series of passionate and fascinating articles add a degree of plausibility to the idea. I will not re-iterate the articles here because Weidner goes into enough depth without making the articles laborious or massive. The first, How Stanley Kubrick Fake The Apollo Moon Landings discusses both the cinematic techniques that might have been used and the political negotiations Kubrick would have employed to ensure a lasting film career. Next, Secrets of the Shining explores the ways in which Kubrick admits his involvement and perhaps guilt in being involved in what could be the largest conspiracy ever. A few aspects of this article can be seen as far-fetched but remains intriguing nonetheless. Lastly, Weidner discusses his belief that 2001 is the best film ever created in Alchemical Kubrick 2001, a more taxing read yet passionate.

Weidner’s writings, factuality aside, are incredibly thought provoking and help cement the social, political, and personal importance of film and film education. Did one of the foremost filmmakers to have lived and died have his hand in falsifying great technological advancement? And did he later carefully admit it by adapting and tweaking another artist’s story? The fact that Kubrick is dead only adds to the mystery; we can never truly know. All (A11) that we are left with are interpretations and musings about the great filmmaker and his place in the social sphere. I hope to talk about this more as time goes on.

Waterworld (1995)

It’s not hard to see how Reynold’s massively budgeted Mad Max on water lost so much money. All that exists in the high concept world of H2O looks like it was found at the local junkyard then left outside to weather the elements for about 10 years. It’s unfortunate, too, because there is an interesting concept behind the displacement of man from his home on land and a return to a state of pure survival.

The $175 million dollar budget, $22 of was Costner’s personal investment, while not obviously mismanaged, was certainly thrown around a bit with the hoards of costumes, needless explosions, and extravagant set pieces. The world that gets built, one void of solid earth, is an unnatural and lawless state of fear and represents an accumulation of all the junk we’ve spent years creating. Now, all the leftover refuse is what keeps the race alive and fighting. The atoll set, a quarter mile in circumference, is literally a giant floating piece of trash, overpopulated with savage descendents of ourselves.

The laws of the land, er water, have changed too. Every scrap of one’s belongings can be bartered for, be it food, water, junk, or the body. The population is also split up into Smokers, Drifters, Atollers, etc, and war between the factions is imminent. It is in this arena that the absurdity of the film steps out into the light and makes the film quite laughable. Admittedly, there are some instances of clever and creative actions. As a whole, the plot-less and crazy sequences only point to the fact that the script went through 36 drafts with contributions from 6 writers. The story, and its point, becomes muddled by bad dialogue and real sense of relation to any character.

And while the story is somewhat telling of human nature, that even when the few remaining humans would need to band together to save their race they choose to fight among themselves, the point is lost. The survivors, in finding the lush and green dryland, have only done so by killing thousands of renegade humans. I guess survival of the fittest is the most apt description; he with gills and webbed toes is king in a world of water. The story could be looked at as a giant experiment, the writers having dropped a bunch of humans in a giant aquarium. Unfortunately, rather than scientists observing their adaptations, they are 12 year old propagating the inhabitants to fight one another.

I feel like Waterworld is a case where someone tried too hard to make something that should have been really cool and in the light of immediate failures just kept going. The fact that failure after failure occurred did not dissuade them. After enough money was already invested all they could do was keep going. Apparently, director Kevin Reynolds left and Costner took control for the last two weeks of filming. Not even Dennis Hopper, usually strange enough to fit into any role, can manage to make is pirate overlord worth paying attention too. I’d like to think that someone would make a legitimate and worthy remake, but who am I kidding?

Short Film: Spider

Watch this film until the end. Nash Edgerton fills multiple shoes by acting, directing, and writing, editing, and stunting this 2007 short. Perhaps you recognized him as Security Guard #5 from the third Matrix installment.

I think this is an easy to watch and certainly well made short film. However, the ending, although delightfully shocking and perhaps deserved, is distracting to what the rest of the six or so minutes are about. The last image we are left with becomes the focul point of the film as a whole.

As MrClownHater aptly assesses, “epic boyfriend fail.”

The Fly (1986)

I would argue that Kurt Neumann’s original film is nothing to shake a stick at. And for that matter, neither is the George Langelaan short story that inspired it. However, 28 years after Neumann’s film, Cronenberg proves that there was a lot more squirm-inducing fun to be had with the story aside from the warnings of playing with science. The fact that the film would be a commercial success for Cronenberg certainly doesn’t hurt its appeal, nor does Jeff Goldblum’s eccentric and excited performance.

While the story may not be his, Cronenberg’s name is all over this film, and I don't just mean in the title. The lone mad scientist protagonist resumes his social and biological reign of terror on himself and the minds of those watching him. In this film, his eagerness costs him his life, and for a while, his appearance. Yet before his ear falls off and he starts ripping off his own fingernails, he perceives the newfound physical advantages as therapeutic and cleansing. But if we have seen a Cronenberg film, we know that things won’t remain so nice for long. The special creature effects have reached a fantastic complexity and grotesquery in this film. What makes them work so well, aside from fan pleasing vomit drop and gravity prone body parts, is their evolution. Unlike the original fly, Seth Brundle doesn’t suddenly appear as half-man and half-fly. His mutations, a cancerous disease, occur in stages that degrade his body almost exponentially.

We know that bodily transformations and assaults are a defining characteristic of Cronenberg films since the beginning, and The Fly proves to be the pinnacle of their employment. The fact that it is a fly becomes relevant, not only because it is someone else’s source story but because of the aversion to creepy crawlies by the general public. If Brundle had slowly turned into a dog it would be much less shocking but certainly just as strange. Bugs would not, even with the brutal death of the fly, disappear from Cronenberg films. Naked Lunch would find a typewriter beetle as a main character and the 2002 film would be called Spider. It is hard to see Cronenberg as anything but the mad scientist behind whose experiments are carried out from behind the camera lens. Much has been discussed in terms of his appearance, his ‘autobiographical’ cameos and characters of curious similarity to the director himself. To me, though, nowhere is this more evident than in The Fly. As a child that also collected bugs and creepy crawling things in my childhood, the fusion of man and fly represents much of what I wish I had come up with.

Additionally, there exists a concept in this film that is vastly disturbing, and I don't mean a human insect hybrid. There is a scene where Brundle transports a piece of steak. The steak appears perfectly normal to the eye, but to the tongue it is a different story. In a world where Photoshop has transformed our evaluations of the legitimacy of images, the steak is an early warning of not being able to trust what we see. However, the steak goes beyond mere image and into the physical. It is a three dimensional object created by a computer from the same particles comprising a real steak. Yet, this piece of meat was reinterpreted by the machine, into something inedible. Like a Photoshopped picture you cannot trust, this is a Photoshopped steak you cannot eat. I fear to think that it is only a matter of time before such technology invades our world.

Thus Cronenberg proves himself a forward thinking and innovative director by breathing new and original life into a tried and true story. His signature brand of gore reached mass audiences and grossed them out. At the same time, his scientific and technological warnings, whether heard or ignored, indicate his social awareness.

Looking Back: The Salton Sea

It has long been my hope, since first watching this film twice in the fall of 2006, that Caruso would make another smart and tightly prefigured, genre-mixing low budget film. Unfortunately, his most recent productions have been Shia LaBeouf vehicles aimed at teen audiences. With a handful of titles in development, perhaps he can make another fantastic film.

Tony Gayton wrote this script, which blends drug, revenge, noir, and melodramatic aspects, simply as a sample of his abilities. Luckily, someone decided to do something more than read it. The result is a stylish, emotion-laden, and double-twisted film inhabited with a brew of strange characters, the most overt being a nose-less, drug-dealing Vincent D’Onofrio named Pooh-bear. But it was not the diverse group of characters, varied stylistic devises, or emotional impact that pleased me. It was the flawless synthesis of all these that prompted the film’s immediate addition to my favorites list back in late 2006. The initial writing of my thoughts, while perhaps correct, was inherently giddy and kind of annoying.

The most recent movie to make me cry since Requiem for a Dream, one of my new favorite movies of all times, this film never lags in interest and held my attention throughout, twice in a row. Val Kilmer plays a trumpet player turned speed junkie/ police informant whose wife is killed (I cant tell how/why, you have to witness it yourself.) Making drug deals with dealers like Bobby Ocean and Pooh Bear whose nose falls off from excessive snorting. Vincent D’Onofrio delivers such an amazing performance I didn’t know it was him, and still don’t.

Some of the best parts of the movie are the drug culture vignettes and narrations, in depth looks into the look of speed freaks and methamphetamine laboratory scientists. The entire movie is well shot and contains edits that made my crotch explode with jealousy. I loved this movie in all aspects and simply want to threaten everyone to see it rather than review it. OMG. LOL. XD. HOLYSHIT.

But seriously this intensely good movie is my new computer desktop and had been on my to-see list for far too long. Fantastically powerful and artistically beautiful, everyone should see this film (except people that don’t like violence, drugs, cowboys, badgers, or tattoos.) See it!

I would like to hope that my ability to express my interest in a certain film has advanced in the past 4 years, even if not by much. Regardless, this film still holds up 4 years later and 8 years after it’s release.

Short Film: Teeth

The beautiful black and white cinematography allow the simple gag in this short to play out void distracting embellishment. The company is called Heroes for Zeroes and they work mainly in music videos out of Dublin.

Like other successful short films, this relies on no dialogue and the character's actions and expressions are of utmost importance. Again, the two-man cast and single location would have made shooting this much easier than complicated scripts call for.

Shutter Island

Originally a David Fincher/ Brad Pitt project, both moved on to other things before Scorsese acquired the project, based on Dennis Lehane’s 2003 novel of the same name. The success of both Gone Baby Gone and Mystic River may have something to do with the adaptation of Lehane’s novel to the big screen. Thus far the critical reception has been a bit mixed.

Having read the novel in preparation for the film, originally scheduled as an October 2009 release, it seemed to me a rather average book for such an esteemed director to work with. Of course, if there is one director who has, through a long and commanding career, earned the right to do whatever he wants, then Scorsese would certainly be it. So as an adaptation to a page turning and layered novel, Scorsese’s adaptation is a perfect match; both book and film arriving in similar fashion.

The film is dark and moody, contained entirely to the Alcatraz-like mental hospital with occasional flashbacks to inviting external environments. A strong sense of deceit and uncertainty is developed immediately and the wonder of a massively foreboding asylum instructs an ominous reaction. Scorsese’s usual intensified style fits right at home with the psychological material found on Lehane’s pages. The stylish cinematography and cinematically dramatic sequences don’t aid in any sense of realism; a fitting mode of discourse for a story set largely in the architecture of the mind. And if you couldn’t gather from the trailers, there is much more going on here than what we see on the surface.

The film is not a word for word adaptation yet the overall plot is intact. As such, the book was moderately predictable with major twists and turn being expected. The precise details, on the other hand, were not glaringly easy to fill in. Here lies my main disappointment with the film; the absence of any obvious Scorseseian influence. Aside from the intensified continuity of constantly moving cameras and endless close-ups and abrupt moments of violence, this film could have been made by any number of Hollywood regulars. And perhaps it should have. This is not to say that Scorsese did not do an adequate job crafting an enjoyable albeit too long psychological horror film.

From the opening shot of a ship materializing from behind heavy fog, we know everything will be hard to see. Yet this is not only from the haze and destructive weather battering the island but, more prominently, from the secrecy surrounding the menacing stature of the compound. The environment may be one of the strongest developed aspects of the film. The island could be a haven of perfectly manicured lawns, an oasis of healing separated from the frantic mainland society. At the same time, it could be, and is, an escapeless and savage test of both mental facilities and physical abilities. The lavish decadence of the warden’s quarters contrast the cold, dungeon-like appearance of bare iron and moist walls found in Ward C. The brutal destructiveness of nature is an apt metaphor for the storm raging in the mind.

Shutter Island may be my least favorite Scorsese film if only for the reason that it doesn’t feel like a Scorsese film. I will not claim to have seen, or particularly liked, all of his films. Yet his newest feels the most contrived, as if he made for a bunch of horror film fans expecting the man to jump out of the shadows. Although, even the simple strike of a match manages to scare numerous audience members whose heightened tension was evident. But I feel like the arrival of a new film by one of the biggest directors is a moment to look forward to, and I want something more than another horror film.

From Author to Work

Even before having any familiarity with the authorial presence of a film’s maker, and even before any further interest in film aside from watching movies, I was cognizant of the idea of genre. In fact, the concept seems second nature and common sense to anyone who watches movies. It is practically the foremost way in which we organize the countless entries of the cinematic world. Yet aside from seeing a horror film or a kid’s movie, my familiarity with the concept of genres, and their importance, has been limited to identification.

The fact that humans organize the world around them is not lost on the filmic world. The need to categorize is a way of making our sensory stimulations more accessible and bearable. If we had to take each individual aspect separately, without first filtering through familiar settings, our heads would likely explode. Thus the idea of genre comes naturally. Whenever we ask what kind of movie something is, the likely response is one of genre. We could see these as the broadest possible categories, in essence, what kind of film it is. It becomes obvious how important genre recognition can be, and likewise how important familiarity with the genres can be.

As I have discussed a lot recently, the presence of a filmmaking personality can be a large draw for the success of a film. Additionally, the thorough entrenchment of the auteur theory in today’s critical world has further validated the filmmaker as artist alongside painters, musicians, and writers whose positions have been secured for ages. Now the concept of genre, a concept that is at times directly linked to the auteur, comes into play. Of course, genre, as a basic categorical tool, comes from any other practice where certain kinds of stories are told based on their content and perhaps delivery.

Thus in moving from an author of a work to the work itself, it would be naïve to completely abandon the creator, just as it is impossible to talk about an artist without talking about the artwork. This person is defined, in part, by what they produce. The relationship between author and work can be varied, as the respective oeuvres of Stanley Kubrick and Danny Boyle attest to, or a director’s work may be so consistent in theme and content that one piece blurs into the next.

On the other hand, we can at times ignore the author of a work and talk instead, of the group of works as a whole. Genres are defined by certain characteristics that we can apply film by film. Not that I will be doing this, but the potential is there to evaluate any number of films and their success at representing a particular genre. At the same time, we can cite numerous examples of films that have blurred the line between multiple genres, or simply borrowed components from many and assembled them as desired. The serialization of a film come into play as well when a sequel, while retaining characters or story, etc, is changed from one straight genre to containing aspects of more than one.

It becomes clearer, then, that while at times rigid in content and construction, genres are also malleable and shape shifting. Time changes what we expect, how we see it, and how we evaluate what we see. I am not aiming to trace the path of this or that genre, but simply to explore genre and its place in the modern, and past, cinematic world.

Revisited: Heat

Now 15 years old, Mann’s LA crime saga remains one of the genre’s strongest entries. In a sense, Heat is a hyper-crime drama; the classic blurring of cop versus robber taken further, the near invincibility of escaping bank robbers played out to exaggerated effect, and the ultimate commitment to the life of crime dramatized and infused with sympathy. Filmed sans soundstage in over 65 locations around LA, Mann captures a grey and dismal, black and shady street level feel, one that turns a bit more neon and nocturnal in Collateral.

This film marked a long anticipated pairing of Pacino and De Niro. Fortunately, we still have this to look back on with the recent blunder of 2008’s horrendous Righteous Kill. The film is littered with stars, young and old, contributing to its nearly 3-hour runtime. Musicians Henry Rollins and Tone Loc, youngster Natalie Portman and veteran Jon Voight, bit parts from Tom Noonan and Jeremy Piven, and of course Val Kilmer, Danny Trejo, Wes Studi, and Ted Levine contributing to the eclectic cast. Mann navigates the population rather well, pulling in characters as he needs them and coordinating their interactions as they affect the main storyline.

The film’s visual style feels as if it spawned from the cement architecture highlighted in the film. Grays, black, and industrial discomfort pervade the screen. Even houses are of modern, high-tech glass and strange angles, almost inhospitable to those that live there. If we can ignore the handful of distracting composite shots, we are rewarded with beautiful explorations of the glowing Los Angeles nightlife; green, blue, and white glowing orbs sprinkled into an expansive darkness. Again, Mann further explored this affinity in Collateral, set entirely at night. Yet Heat is much lonelier, darker, and more obviously dangerous. Even the warmth of daytime plays host the epic and enduring shoot-out; five minutes of non-stop gunfire with bullet holes riddling everything accept the fleeing criminals. It is hard to believe that the body count only stacks up to 18.

The action, consistent throughout the film, while on the one hand obsessive and heightened, remains grounded in the realm of control. The heists are not visually orgies of exploding machines and bursting body parts. Rather, there is an obvious intent, a professionally calculated and practiced organization. This includes both sides of the law; the gang’s methodical and seemingly spontaneous hits as well as the deliberate, if unsuccessful, authorities in pursuit. The single spark to the eventual downfall is the improvised moment of emotion during a job, an immature and tragic slip of professionalism. This marks the focus of the film as a whole.

Two men, both the best at what they do and each on different sides of the law is not a new concept to the crime drama. But Mann’s film breathes new life (or death) into the dynamic. By mirroring, almost person to person, the rival forces, he can play with the actions of each and play them off each other. While De Niro’s crew celebrate a successful hit, Pacino’s men hide for careful observation. Minutes later, the police are seen celebrating their achievements, replicating and allowing comparison of the two outfits. On the individual level, each of these men, so dedicated to their lifestyle, remain incapable of holding personal relationships with anyone for anything but business. The cop’s three failed marriages are directly mirrored by the criminal’s easily evacuated friendships.

Heat is a long and multilayered film that weaves numerous lines of story and as such demands a long running time. Yet each time I return to it I become more fascinated by its characters and their weaknesses perceived as strengths. To a degree the film is sad, nearing pathetic by questioning the value of one’s work over one’s relationships and the allowing life to end without anything to leave behind. Michael Mann has followed it admirably with both The Insider and Collateral but has yet to top it.

Poster Mash-Ups

Check out some great poster combinations from Worth1000's 15th contest.

Avatar was obviosuly a big one, so if you weren't tired of it already...

Short Film: The Black Hole

Co-written and directed by Philip Samson and Olly Williams, this three-minute film is short, sweet, and direct. From a production standpoint, it is relatively genius with only one cast member, no stunts or need for excessively fancy camerawork, and a short running time that could have easily been filmed in a day with more time devoted to post production.

The film feels a little short in that the first action committed is robbery with no prior experimentation with the newfound wonder. Now this is likely that point, the already present greed is revealed immediately, practically as a first reaction. Setting it in an office, albeit the most likely place in which to accidentally print a black circle, suggests the oppressive world of cubicle life that leads to disgruntled workmanship and employees wanting to get back. Most telling, though, is the ending and excess greed that provides the lesson.

This is really a fun and interesting premise that could be explored further and in numerous situations. Of course, cartoons have almost exploited the same ideas but putting it in a realistic environment proves more effective. The directors have gone on to make music videos and commercials.

Things to Come (1936)

If we can ignore the improbable and distractingly humorous space helmet of a visiting traveler, the relevance of this film’s messages can be highlighted. Based on H.G. Wells’ 1933 sci-fi story, The Shape of Things to Come, the film begins with the Second World War as predicted by the story. The human race practically destroys itself as the war rages on for decades, bringing with it various weapon technology and plagues. In the wake of the destruction, humans begin to rebuild that shattered civilizations of years past.

The humans are, in essence, starting over yet with prior knowledge of the way thing were before. The scientists do not have to invent technology, just re-imagine and rebuild it. They are soon visited by a group of earthlings whose progress is much farther along than theirs. The visitors, almost ironically, demand that the dictatorial leader step down and the democratic process rule the land. As the stories propels into what is still the future, advanced and monstrous mechanical advancements speckle the landscape. The set designers certainly put their 240,000 pounds to use in creating a giant gun that shoots its occupants into space. The sequence is rendered nostalgically pleasing as hundreds of tiny figures storm the machine.

The brunt of this movie’s enduring status can certainly be attributed to Wells’ original story, its handful of accurate predications, and its concern about the fate of human civilization. In the end, the remaining characters question their being, their pursuit of a reason, and their place in the cosmic order. And undoubtedly, like so many countless endeavors for an answer, the film does not provide one. We do get a healthy dose of questions yet receive the benefit of the doubt in not being preached to.

Diegetically, Wells’ story encompasses much time and change. Yet its content willextend beyond the end of the narrative and even past the years examined in the film. The search for an answer has not stopped since the recorded years of human history and makes no hint at doing so any time soon. We can never be sure just what the shape of things to come will be.

Short Film: Still Life

A well concieved and well executed film that could almost work as a silent until the final, tense moments. Directed by Jon Knautz, whose favorite drink is orange juice, the film is both intruiging and thought provoking. It certainly opens the door for copycats to take the concept and see what else can be done. Knautz's first short, Apt. 310, was also made at the Vancouver film school he attended and at which he made the connections to found Brookstreet Pictures.

Shorts are certainly a different animal than the feature. One must make the set-up and delivery by utilizing the given time effeciently. Fortunately for a film like this, the pay-off is very rewarding and as such very memorable. It is amazing how the main character feels no emotion towards the human figures until the he sees them as real.

101 Sci-Fi Movies You Must See Before You Die

A kind of companion piece to 1,001 Movies You Must See before You Die, this smaller book focuses on a century of important Sci-Fi films from across the globe. Starting with the legendary Voyage to the Moon and concluding with 2006’s Children of Men, the book pays heaviest attention to the Anglophone films of the last 50 years. While much of the entries are validated, a handful could be happily excluded without detriment.

Four pages are devoted to each and every film. Two of these are plot and production details with occasional discussion on reception and importance. A screenshot and poster occupy the other two pages. The film posters are perhaps the most rewarding feature of the book. Many of the film’s posters are more obscure and not the standard and over-used designs. All of the entries are competent and quick to read.

Most noticeably absent is any type of checklist from which one could easily register the completion of watching the films. Likewise, an index of each film by country would be helpful. All in all, though, this list book is a nice little addition to gauge one’s thoroughness of participation in the cinematic world.

Ong-bak 2

In case you were wondering how the Muay Thai infused Ong-bak began, which you weren’t (but who cares), this sequel fills all that in. Star Tony Jaa takes the directing helm for part two and delivers a film that, while occasionally distracted by exposition and plot development, is basically a giant, awesome, amazing, brutal, fantastic, insane, bloody, jaw-dropping, mind-bending, laugh inducing, pain inducing, flippin’ sweet fight scene.

We see Jaa as a child whose parents are inevitably killed by a mean ruler and he must avenge their death by training in the combative arts in a remote and impressive village of fighters. The rest of the movie is Jaa killing a bunch of people, and an alligator, and inflicting pain on countless more. If the first film wasn’t simply an excuse to show of the martial skills (District B13 anyone?), then this film makes it rather impossible to be anything but. The visuals are dirty and detailed, beautiful and scary. The fighting is the same.

Like any martial arts movie worth watching, a variety of fighting styles, weapons, and characters come and go and battle one another. Animals manage to get their combative skills in as well. As a whole, though, the film is entirely watchable and admittedly quite exhausting. The fight scenes are diverse enough and complex enough to make them fun. Despite the lack of acting ability, Jaa manages to seem human enough to enjoy watching. This sequel may be superior to its predecessor in both its technical qualities and its fight choreography.

The first Ong-bak tried to take itself a little too seriously for the comedy sprinkled throughout. This film, while laugh inducing because of the sheer incomprehensibility, demands to be taken seriously. Any film with such a staggering body count and savage depiction of ceremony certainly shouldn’t aim to joke. The one exception remains the unexplained and underdeveloped basket-head who makes an ominous appearance towards the end of the film. Check out this sequel for an intense, pleasing, and mindless experience.

Smokin' Aces 2

Further proof that successful box office ventures are only validated by making a horrific, straight-to-video sequel. The victim this time is Joe Carnahan’s Smokin’ Aces, which ranks right near the top of my list of guilty pleasures. The surprise, in contrast to the ultimate insult of S. Darko, is that Carnahan was involved as executive producer, thus slightly legitimizing something that should not exist.

Carnahan’s original film features a huge cast of criminals, hit men, and government officials all converging at a Lake Tahoe hotel for an exciting round of carnage. The film is flashy, stylish, inventive, entertaining, and doesn’t spend too much time developing needless exposition. This is not to say it is plotless, but action and effects overshadow the developments. Its sequel, in sharp contrast, rips off nearly every aspect of the original and succeeds in none of them. Be it the bold, frame stealing titles, the use of elevators, the brutal Tremors, or the inclusion of many, many guns, 2 makes everything look like a giant, cheaply conceived joke. Unfortunately, a few characters are reincarnated from the original, the rest simply being ripped off. Director P.J. Pesce is uncertain how to handle the action scenes that comprise much of the film. Any sense of environmental orientation is absent with guns firing every which way yet still managing to hit their targets. The explosions feel only half-rendered. The blood is noticeably excessive in comparison to its predecessor. And all the characters that were cool are now laughable. The timeless bad-assery of Tom Berenger should have added a solid foundation of awesome but he too was degraded to straight to DVD pathos.

Smokin’ Aces is a high-rolling exercise in excess, from the penthouse shoot-out to Mafia affiliated target. It is clear, even beyond the promise of a million dollar reward, that lot’s of people are rolling in money and nearly everyone is inspired by greed. Yet for Smokin’ Aces 2, the high rise hotel is replaced by a badly lit club on a fake looking street and the wheelchair bound hit is practically buried alive from the start in a cavernous bunker. The film immediately loses any high-gloss connection to the film it tries so pathetically to emulate. Unsurprisingly, and rather fortunately, Clint Mansell’s score is noticeably absent.

In conclusion, the first film is not a great movie, but is endlessly fun and entertaining. The second film is a bad excuse for a movie that is endless in its exploits and fun only as a point of reference to the first. I’d ask people to stop making bad movies but they wouldn’t listen.

Let the Film Speak

“I would not think of quarreling with your interpretation nor offering any other, as I have found it is always the best policy to allow the film to speak for itself.”

-Stanley Kubrick

The work of Stanley Kubrick is diverse, deep, and highly praised. It is also quite evidently his work; whether it be obsessive use of tracking or the extreme mental states of his characters. The same can be said for the director that has been under much discussion, David Cronenberg. Replace the tracking shots with stationary shots and add lively special effects and gore. However, as has been addressed, Cronenberg is extremely active in the reception and interpretation of his films. This seems like quite and interesting difference than the mindset Kubrick presents in his quote. I am not here to argue the viability of interpreting either of the director’s films in any certain way. Rather, I find it curious and perhaps telling, that these two esteemed directors apparently share such different opinions when it comes to the reception of their films.

We could, of course, attribute the difference simply to personality. Kubrick was notoriously hermitic, carving out his own little movie making kingdom and only occasionally and selectively opening up his mind to others. Cronenberg, on the other hand, is open and willing to discuss the nature and state of his filmmaking practice. Regardless of personal style, each director has succeeded in making some (many) of the most important movies to date.

It makes me wonder, then, what this says about each director and their relationship to their craft. Is Cronenberg too heavy-handed in suggesting a certain reading into his films? Is Kubrick too naïve to allow the masses to see what they want to see? Or does the combination of styles produce the fertile critical and theoretical landscape needed to further our understanding of the world of filmmaking? Of course the diversity of readings is what prompts debate and opens up new avenues of thought. We need conflict in order to progress, to come up with something novel. But, is this better achieved by an artist sitting back and not giving us any guidance or by taking our hand and leading the way? Or more appropriately, perhaps it is not a question of which is better. (It seems a rare case to find a situation when we are not asked to determine which of two options is better)

Perhaps it is a question of intent. Does Kubrick want us to discover for ourselves despite whether they coincide with his thoughts? Does Cronenberg aim his interpretations so that we both find ways to support and negate and thus inherently foster discussion? It is incontrovertible that both of these director’s are intelligent, talented, and conscious of the way their films are received. (And I don’t mean to suggest that Kubrick simply washed his hands of the films he made upon their release) Likewise, both have an acute sense of how film works. This being so, each are capable of producing an intended effect, of getting an idea across.

Yet like any work that consumes its creator, filmmakers are indeed caught up in their stories and how they are telling them. They are also incapable of removing themselves from the process that has created the product. Spectators, on the other hand, have much less invested in the film, be it money, sweat, or reputation. Thus we offer a fresh set of eyes to see the work, whether this is superior or not remains debatable. This then opens up discussion for the reading of art by its creator vs its audience, which we will not get into at this time.

Posters 2009.

Here be some awesome movie posters from the year past.

http://www.instantshift.com/2010/

01/04/30-best-movie-posters-of-2009/

I think listal does the best yet they are simply a collection, not ranked. Although you can choose to see them many an order.

http://www.listal.com/list/melhores-posteres-de-2009

As is obvious, Moon had many phenomenal posters as did Antichrist and Inglourious Basterds.

And here are a ton of posters, many which I know I never saw.

http://www.impawards.com/2009/std.html

I don't know what The Forbidden Door is but I want to see it.

Enjoy.

The Thing (1982) Prequel

Let me say right from the start that it could be worse; they could be trying to remake John Carpenter’s classic, nearly flawless, fantastic masterpiece, itself a remake of the decent The Thing from Another World (1951) based on John W. Campbell Jr.’s story “Who Goes There?”. So since it is not worse, we’ll at least give it a bad. Word on the street is that the prequel, following the Norwegian scientists, begins filming in Toronto in March of this year.

Now we are all aware of the massive recycling program going on in today’s film industry. And if the slew of remakes (too many to name here), reboots (too many to name here) and sequels (too many to name here) aren’t enough, then certainly this prequel is. It stars Elizabeth Winstead and Joel Edgerton. So if you have seen Carpenter’s film, you know the absence of any female characters added a heightened sense of tense discomfort, which, regardless, this film will likely fail to replicate.

If you have forgotten, the film includes Keith David and Wilford Brimley, and of course Carpenter regular and owner of the silver screen’s most badass beard- Kurt Russell. The creature effects are ridiculous and amazing the Carpenter does a fantastic job at creating a tense, claustrophobic paranoia as the characters come to realize the creature could be anyone or anything. I cannot stress enough how much this film would have to live up to for anyone to like it save for the teenyboppers that have not seen either of the other films. The fact that it is a companion film gives it a little room but the filmmakers should know they are treading on dangerous ground.

Matthijs Van Heijningen is directing, and no, that name should not sound familiar. MTV’s movie blog (not a regular source) suggests he could be the next Zack Snyder. Uh oh.

Over Analyzed.

I realize that there is a point in analyzing works. I can understand the need to interpret and find reasons for what an artist has done. I can also claim to engage in the process myself. Yet that doesn't deter me from continuously questioning the process. On many occasions I have found myself listening to evaluations and interpretations of films only to think they sounded ludicrous. Then I hear another only to consider it even more far fetched in comparison to the film than the first one. This is where my leeriness to the practice of figuring out meaning comes from.

I have always been fascinated by the world, particularly for the reason that I can see it. Thus, interesting and strange and beautiful visuals have always been important to me. Further, I can admire a piece of work that is not trying to say anything at all other than being good to look at. This is where I seem to find myself alone. In this business it is all about story. If you have a good story the visuals can be worthless and it doesn't matter. The audience will still get it. But I have often yearned for the opposite. I want something void of meaning, void of story, something I can stare at and be amazed. Obviously, experimental film sweeps in to fulfill this desire immediately, yet even that is riddled with the need for interpretation.

I made a video for class that fit a certain structure and message I was going for. Unsurprisingly, the class found numerous other ways in which to read it. I in no way suggested they were wrong but listened to their ideas instead. However, I did not put them there. They were born from somebody else’s mind and exemplify my dissatisfaction with finding a meaning behind everything. Everybody will bring their own idea no matter what is presented. And in a similar vein, one can find whatever they are looking for wherever they look.

Now I am not asking for a schlocky and immature attempt at something so intently driven by entertainment value that it demands the lowest intelligence possible. I simply want the ability to stare at something uninterrupted without having to reason for its inherent magnetism. I guess I just want to see a sunset everywhere.I suppose it is product of our evolution that we stimulate our intellect to the nth degree. And that is fine. Despite the fact that we are in no danger of extinction, it is indeed good to increase our abilities. Yet at the same time we need to be able to revel in simplicity of liking how something looks. If we really want to get down to it, we are trying to find meaning in the things we create because we are trying to find meaning in the creation of ourselves. And as is obvious, we have yet to satisfactorily find that.

Ever Seen It: Swamp Thing (1982)

Wes Craven’s attempt the show he could handle stars, stunts, and action resulted in this 1982 film based on the comic book of the same name. The film shows a group of scientists working on some special concoction that glows a radioactive green. Its purpose is to create an animal plant hybrid that can survive the harsh conditions of the swamp. To the benefit of the audience, the scientist himself gets transformed into a rubbery plant man with superhuman strength and primitive linguistic skills. He seeks revenge on the military minds who sought to take his prized creation.

The $3 million budget doesn't let the film takes itself too seriously, a necessary ingredient for the given content. And aside from the stray exposition about human nature, much of the film is good old-fashioned cat and mouse, or rather, swamp thing and wanna-be Rambo. Filmed in the swamps of South Carolina, the film includes enough swamp thing destruction and rampage to make it’s 91 minute running time go by in less time than it takes to say AAAGAHAJAHAGAHAAGAgAGAGAHAHAAGAHAA!

One of the most creative and original cinematic experiences carried about in this film is its use of transitions. Be they radial wipes, sides wipes, or black ooze, the filmmakers never fail to find a creative way to branch the narratively distracting lapses in time. Their absurdity is vastly overshadowed by how fun it is to see which one they will use next. But the film’s visual spontaneity doesn't stop there. The zoom is employed to mass benefit and helps bring out the intricate details of the swamp thing’s well done effects. Likewise, the film cares not for consistency in spatial orientation and freely inserts suggested viewpoints that stray (through obvious differentiation in lighting and location) from actual environmental placement. Yet despite these sentimental flaws, the film is entirely fun.

And not to spend and hour and a half for nothing, we learn that the special chemical doesn't immediately make one powerful; it simply amplifies the users essence. The creature we are inside is brought to life. Fortunately for us, the head baddie, appropriately named Arcane (who appropriately followed this film with Octopussy), turns into a marble-eyed, wolf like beast with whose weapon of choice is a medieval sword. Naturally, he and swampie battle to the death in the campiest and most entertaining segment of the film.

RIP Dick Durock -17 September 2009

Joel Silver in talks for 3-D remake...

Cronenbergian Auteurism

For a person who wasn’t going to school for film, David Cronenberg has carved himself a pretty formidable reputation as both master of horror as well as culturally conscious auteur. From his low budget, Canadian government financed body horror to his recent Hollywood and Oscar nominated family dramas, his career has spanned multiple decades and multiple countries. Yet for all the attention he has received both locally and internationally, his reputation, as a confident and competent director, has not been undermined.

Ernest Mathijs describes Cronenberg as an active auteur, someone whose authorial presence transcends the screen and enters the public sphere to help adapt interpretations and reactions to his films. While many are ready to discount his early efforts to the hoards of b-horror stockpiles, he countered them by claiming artistic merit in his work. And while his string of films through the 80’s and 90’s certainly deserve such merit uncontested, his early work demanded a bit more defense. In 1981, Cronenberg’s film Scanners was marketed around a few single seconds of the film. These 47 frames have since entered the cult film kingdom as not only impressive, but immortal. As a character’s tense and panicked face contort to supreme fear and submission, his head explodes in a bloody detonation of rabbit livers and dog food. The aftermath, although bloody on-screen, was much more alarming off-screen. Mathijs devotes no less than half a dozen pages to the exploding head, its effects, and its reception. But more importantly, is its connection and importance in the oeuvre of its director.

If the sex parasites and hematophagic armpit plunger weren’t enough, Scanners’ exploding head gave the cautiously minded and socially concerned (read: uptight) something to complain about. The active and attentive Cronenberg defended his film and every film since then that has fared negatively in the public eye for its content; be it sex in Crash, masochism in Videodrome, or violence in any number of his films. While such shocking subject matter is often deemed exploitative, its true function is a synthesis of understanding and necessity.

Cronenberg’s status as acclaimed Baron of Blood and King of Venereal Horror put him very near, if not atop, the pantheon of cult film directors. So while his visually graphic money shots pertain to the story, they remain important in maintaining the fanship his early films gathered. This is important in recognizing the directorial awareness that has marked his career; a recognition and attention to the audience of his films. Yet this is not limited to the late-night male audience who just want to see exploding heads but expands into the film critic elite who pick apart his films detail by detail and criticize the content. His work has consistently garnered harsh reception by the likes of Robin Wood and others who see his b-grade horror as tastelessly full of sex and violence.

This all said, and again paying attention to his consistent awareness of his films’ receptions, Cronenberg’s active auteurism seems not only a relevant and advantageous approach but a vastly important one for any artist. As I began discussing earlier, an artist projects his work into view of an audience who will certainly bring different interpretations and run the risk of losing the intended message. This is where the creator can, or should, step in to guide how their work is seen. David Cronenberg has done this since the beginning.