Between the Folds (2008)

     There’s much more to origami than the simple folded crane that the expert paper folders in this film must consider to be an outdated cliché.  For slightly less than an hour Vanessa Gould explores the depths of papers folding, traversing its real world application from its artistic beginnings.  ‘Life itself is folded’ becomes the hypothesis whether or not Gould started out with such intentions.  The budding leaves of a tree, even DNA itself can be recreated with squares of paper.
    Unless one partakes in the origami world, it is unlikely that they realize the old and new school mindsets exist even here.  The old folders have crafted their art for years, learning from one another and mainly from experience.  The younger generation is computer savvy and uses the underlying algorithms to aid in complicated constructions.  Their obsession is with complexity; the more folds the better.  And they are impressive indeed, two foot long dragons with a thousand scales, life like human figures, and of course animals.  One old folder’s interest can be found at the other end of the spectrum; simplicity.  He creates abstract designs with only a fold or two and is not concerned with the realism of the object.  How can a paper elephant even be realistic?
    We meet a folder whose hour-long creations produce movement; spinning like a top or popping in and out.  Manipulation of a 2-D plane allows it to exist in two additional dimensions.  We also meet a genius.  A boy with ponytail and glasses, taught and trained by his father with ponytail and glasses, who together solved an old problem; which shapes can be made by folding a paper and then making one single straight cut?  The answer: all of them.  But the boy’s interest lies not in folding papers, that is a hobby, he is more interested in real world applications like the folding of an airbag that results in the most logical and flat design.
    The mathematics involved in origami range from the simple to the complex, numerous professors have started using paper folding to teach.  It may sound absurd that something so simple as a paper frog that hops could hold answers to bigger questions about life.  But after all, folding is a unique property not inherent to all things, and as such, it can tell us much.  In this documentary that demands and deserves to be twice as long, Gould explores the nature of life as materialized in the art of paper folding.

Look (2007)

     The concept is great; construct a narrative entirely from surveillance camera footage.  The execution is quite good; overlapping storylines captured only from cameras that could actually capture such activities.  The acting leaves a bit to be desired and is really the only thing stopping this little film from being flawless.
    The film starts with assertive white font on a black background.  It informs us as to how often we are captured on cameras- 200 times daily- and how much surveillance footage is accumulated from the countless robotic eyes watching our actions.  It is a film that could only be set in the present.  Someday, its meager concept will be tame as everyone has their own reality show and 15 hours of fame.
    It should, if anything, be an eye-opening reminder of how public our lives are whether we intend them to be or not.  The opening shot is within a department store dressing room as two nymphets undress and the face-to-face mirrors reflect into infinity.  Their actions are then monitored as they navigate the store, the entire mall, and then back into a car as they exit the parking lot.  Public space is aptly named.  The cameras continue to observe as one of the underage girls seduces her reluctant teacher.  His arrest is captured by an eager student’s phone.  Or we see a set of candid camera killers whose crimes are preserved by ATM cameras and police car dashboards.  They are eventually identified by a keyboard playing stoner who works at a gas station.
    The great success of the film is undoubtedly its social relevance.  Candid camera and reality TV shows depend on the audiences’ inherent voyeuristic qualities.  Laura Mulvey must be salivating with the prospects of discussing Adam Rifkin’s 2007 film and the ripe cornucopia of scopophilia it offers.  If it were real, we would know the subjects were unaware of our presence.  But alas it is not, and the acting alerts us that the characters know they are being watched and their actions are choreographed.  We will forgive their actions, be they vile or illegal, for these reasons.  Unless, of course, they start throwing cats into dumpsters.

The Endless Summer (1966)

     Part documentary, part travelogue, part extreme sports film, Bruce Brown’s immortal 1966 creation follows two surfers around the world on their quest for perfect waves during an endless summer.  The film is incredibly archaic, a satisfying and occasionally cringe inducing reminder of the innocence and nostalgia of yesteryear.  The market now saturated with extreme sports docs capitalizing on whatever is in style, we would be hard pressed to find a film that shares the fascination and lightheartedness found here.
    Brown narrates the film with an eager and informative style befitting any travel film of the fifties and sixties where idyllic beaches and paradise lands are captured in grainy 16mm and populated by vintage cars and clothing.  Not only does he take liberty with the on-screen actions, but he seems to create an entirely non-existent back-story.  But it’s all in good fun.  The puns, both visual and verbal, floweth in full accord with complete disregard for political correctness or cultural sensitivity.  The innocence of nearly five decades passed is front and center as the surfers visit primitive cultures, deserted beaches, and sights uncommon to the average nuclear family.  It’s a relief that much of Brown's narration can be waived off as old school, today it would be seen as ignorant.
    The film is a breeze to watch.  Much of it consists of countless surfers navigating the lengths of their board with skilled agility and a showman’s confidence.  On the best of beaches, the length of their rides surpasses that of Brown camera magazine, minute upon minute of perfectly formed waves washing by the thousands onto an unpopulated beach.  The documentary is also a who’s who list of surfers from around the globe; Brown seems to take pride in naming each and every one, as well as their specialty.
    It is a document to years long gone, to a world long gone where the simple joys need not be validated and traveling country to country was as safe as riding the ocean waves without having to worry about being demolished by floating trash.  This film’s longevity is not surprising and is requisite material for documentary, sports, and surf enthusiasts.

Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010)

    The film’s credits read like a who’s who of (in)famous street artists and for anyone who has paid attention to the resounding noise this scene has made, the names will be very familiar.  They are captured in direct contact with the artists themselves, both in casual conversation as well as law-defying theatrics.  The opening images create a montage of reckless abandon, a society seemingly falling apart, yet one full of life.  For the viewer, it is an inspiring and exciting parade of juvenile delinquents brandishing their cityscapes with more life than the last million passersby.  Street artists escape authorities, install work, ooze creativity, and give the public a free show of body of works more developed than many others.  The opening sequence of internet clips and home footage is enough to inspire a heated debate about the legitimacy of graffiti vandalism, immediately offset by its vast commercialism and the branding of street art culture.  Hence this film.
    We rather quickly find Banksy himself addressing the camera, cloaked in anonymity (he is, after all, a Criminal), and reporting on the nature of his film.  We are introduced to Thierry, an obsessive and compulsive videographer whose camera remains open more than his eyes, who has a house full of thousands of tapes, and who just happens to have an artistic cousin that goes by Space Invader.  Thus our un-reluctant cameraman arrives conveniently at the near-birth of the street art movement and seems the perfect accomplice to document the temporary, illegal, and most culturally responsive of all art forms.  If you haven’t seen this film, stop reading.

Review: Scott Pilgrim vs The World

     British born director of Shaun of the Dead (2004) and Hot Fuzz (2007) Edgar Wright makes another impact in cinema history with his latest movie Scott Pilgrim vs The World. Based on Scott Pilgrim by Bryan Lee O'Malley, the story revolves around a 22-year-old Scott Pilgrim as he grieves over his ex-girlfriend, and pretends to enjoy his time with his new girlfriend, a 17-year-old Knives Chao, a young girl obsessed with everything Scott Pilgrim.
     Scott is in a band, which is currently trying to make a name for itself. Knives is their most loyal (and probably only) fan, as they head into a Battle of the Bands. Scott's life with Knives seems to be going well, until (as a dream foretells) he runs into the girl of his dreams: Ramona Flowers. He stalks her a bit before he can convince her to go on a date with him. Soon after, he decides to break up with Knives.
     Unfortunately, dating Ramona comes with a few... seven to be exact... minor problems. He must "defeat" Ramona's seven deadly exes. This is where this movie really stands alone. For the duration of the movie so far, there have been a few instances of "extra" reality: drawings and video-game-like pop-ups on the screen add something... extra to the action. But the moment the first ex shows up, All reality seems to slip away, as Scott flies around, punching and getting punched without actually getting hurt. Essentially, the film turns into a video game with earned points flying out of the other characters, and evil exes, or their minions turning into coins when destroyed.
     Scott fights the evil exes in various ways: by wit, by strength, by music, and by martial arts. It's truly an amazing and unique image, and it's really up to the viewer whether it's a good thing. It can, at times, be distracting, and since it steps so far out of reality, one may sometimes wonder what is actually happening. It's a worthwhile experience for anyone who enjoys comic books, video games, or just something new and fresh in a film.

     With 5 movies under his belt since Juno, Michael Cera, seemingly type-cast in roles of heartbroken nerds, makes a slight leap from his usual character. Although this new character is as charming and witty as the others, it does step out of the norm with the flashy and quirky action hero qualities he exudes by the end of the film. Anna Kendrick (Up In The Air, 2009) plays a minor role as Scott's sister and adds a fun twist to the nerd lifestyle with the older but caring sibling. Other roles as the exes include Brandon Routh, Chris Evans, and Jason Schwartzman. While I wasn't particularly fond of most of their acting, it worked in the whole scheme of the movie.
     The visuals were striking, the score was brilliantly composed, and the sound design for the movie was quite perfect. The video game aspect of the movie is pulled off at every turn of the road. Surprisingly, the film turns out to be a fun one, enjoyable as well as exciting and intriguing.
The movie comes out this Friday, August 13, 2010.

Review: Inception

     Christopher Nolan's Following is a masterful labyrinth of a film. It is also his first feature, and a trend-setter for his later films. Memento (2000), Insomnia (2002), Batman Begins (2005), The Prestige (2006), and of course The Dark Knight (2008) are his repertoire. An oeuvre of epic proportions. Each film is a mind-bending look into our fears. That we committed our worst crime, that we become the villain we so desperately try to take down. Inception is no exception.
     Dominic Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is the best extractor in the field. He can enter a person's dream and steal their most valued ideas, thoughts and secrets. Lately he's been performing corporate espionage, stealing people's thoughts for a profit. But he is running from his past, trying to escape the accusations of murder, all the while hoping to find a way home. His most recent client, Saito (Ken Wantanabe) has the answer: If Cobb can do the opposite of his job and plant the idea in the son of Saito's business enemy to break up his father's business, Saito will make some calls allowing Cobb to return to America.
     To plant an idea, one must enter into the deep subconscious of one's mind (here being a dream within a dream within a dream). This is where Nolan provides the brunt of the suspense in the film. In order to get out of a dream you need what's called a kick (essentially free fall in the real world) so that you are ripped out of your dream. In order to get out of the dreams within dreams, you need to have a kick in the first dream world. And in order to get out of the dreams within those dreams within dreams, you need a kick in the second dream world. The question is, can the characters achieve all their goals before the kicks occur? Each level of dreams is twenty times faster than the level before it, so that if you're asleep for 1 minute, your dream world is twenty minutes long, and the dream level before that is seven hours long etc., which gives the actors plenty of time, as long as they are deep in the subconscious.
    The film is entirely comprehensible, and fully engaging. The characters literally make the movie-goer excited for what's happening and what's about to happen. And of course, we're never let down. Each dream level is fascinating and enthralling, mesmerizing and beautiful, dangerous and scary. Nolan keeps the characters as entertained as the audience, throwing them into the worlds of dreams, where anything could happen next. It is hard to find fault with the cinematography, the CG or the sets. It's nothing new, but it retains a certain air of appeal.
     With a lineup of actors as good as this, it is surprising to find that none really blew the ship out of the water. DiCaprio was alright, giving a Shutter Island (Scorsese, 2010) performance (without the accent), Ellen Paige was good, but nothing extraordinary. Ken Wantanabe Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy all did admirably, yet they weren't as prominent of characters and therefore didn't have much billing time. Marion Cotillard may never live up to her Edith Paif portrayal, while Tom Berenger and Michael Caine had such small roles, it was hard to tell if they did well or not.
    While the story was astoundingly complex and layered, with conflicts up the wazoo, there was little there. What you see is what you get with this film. There's little deep to talk about, since the deepest part of the human conscious is materialized, something that isn't quite possible. As soon as we see that to be trapped in the mind is as simple as building your own worlds, we lose all wonder and astonishment. The mystery of the mind is simplified too far for the film to have anything worth discussing afterward.
  

J.J. Abrams Double Feature

    From the very moment the finale of the Lost pilot episode finished, I found myself hooked. Its sheer magnitude and quality blew me away: how could a television show look so much like a film? The answer was not just money (the episode costing over 11 million dollars), but also the genius behind the camera. Director J.J. Abrams proved himself that day I watched Lost, and it was not until 2006 that I realized just how genius this man truly is. Mission Impossible III looked promising in trailers, and despite the troubles Cruise was having with my comrades, I ventured to the theaters to watch what I quickly realized it was a masterpiece. 

     The quick cutting was not new. The spy tools weren't new. What was new was the non-stop action, the beautifully crafted story, and the sheer beauty of the film. To anyone unfamiliar with the IMF concept, it's a fun, engaging and entirely engrossing film, and to anyone who knows IMF like the back of their hands, the film is fun, engaging and engrossing, while feeling fresh: Ethan Hunt pumped with adrenaline and revitalized. 

     Now in retirement, Ethan Hunt, IMF (Impossible Mission(s) Force) agent, is engaged to a beautiful, loving women. When he is called to perform one more mission to save one of his trainees, he finds himself entangled in a web of lies and deciet that lead him to Rome, Berlin, Tokyo and Shanghai in search of "the rabbits foot." 

     The film is J.J. Abrams' first feature film, one that no one can deny is edgy and exciting. The use of color to set the mood is used so well that you could watch the raw footage without sound and get the right emotion. The use of exposure and lighting only enhances the color, and makes the appropriate things pop on screen. Music, provided by Michael Giacchino (and based on Lalo Shifrin's original theme from the tv show) builds on the emotion even further. And finally, the editing brings it all together.

     Even further, the direction given the actors and the acting itself is superb. Tom Cruise may play the only character he knows how to, but it Abrams makes it fit, makes it work as part of the story, the drama. The co-stars keep up with Cruise's ego with their own impeccable acting, and it all comes together to make the best Mission impossible (and one of the best Cruise) films yet.

     Three years later, Abrams' Star Trek is released in theaters. It is his second film, and an attempt by studios to revitalize the Star Trek franchise. Like the six year period between Mission Impossible II and Mission Impossible III, the seven year break Star Trek took from producing another film was a well-needed one. Although the series had made the switch from the first Generation to the Next Generation, the films quickly lost value, and Star Trek: Nemesis (2002) earned a 44% on Rotten Tomatoes Top Critics.
     Like M:i:III, Star Trek (2009) brought new life to the series. Something fresh, bold and exciting. Although many Trekkers might say that the film isn't a true Star Trek film, since the storyline and characters don't follow the original plot. Even though this is true, the story maintains that everything that has happened since the beginning of Star Trek remains true, we've simply traveled back in time to create an "alternate reality."
     This reality is fun, fast and action-packed. There's really a non-stop flow of action and adrenaline pumping through the film at all times. It's all at once new and familiar, with enough suspense to hold your breath and attention through the entire film.
     Abrams' use of color is still present, each planet popping, every deck on the Enterprise blindingly colorful. The lighting has that familiar play with exposure, with something new added: Lens flares. Some might get sick with all the light flashing in their eyes, but it makes the entire world of Star Trek seem more brilliant and bright. Of course Giacchino's score expounds upon the film's brilliance again, pulling the film together after it's beautiful editing cut it apart.

    Abrams has continually wowed me both at the theater (as director and producer) and on the TV (Lost, Fringe), and I don't doubt that I'll once again be amazed with his upcoming feature Super 8 due to be released in 2011.

The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day (2009)

       Troy Duffy returns to the streets of Boston with a sequel to his 1999 cult hit despite such a follow-up being both unnecessary and unwarranted.  And in the places that many found acceptably over the top and gratuitously stylish are hinted at and returned to unsubtly and ineffectively.  I have not found a reason for the widespread appeal, at least for the target demographic, of the first film because I do not share the enthusiasm.  Regardless, it is obvious with this film that many of the marks set by the first are erroneously duplicated to banal result and its presence more taints than supports its predecessor.

            A copycat killer emerges thirsty for blood in Boston church and commits a crime with intended effect of rousting the Saints out of hiding in the Irish countryside where they are camouflaged in years of uncharted facial hair growth.  The plan inevitably works as they arrive stateside to clear their name, commit some more gratuitous violence, and take on a misplaced and annoying-as-can-be sidekick whilst evading the FBI and law enforcement alike.  The supporting cast of cheesy cops is so sophomorically written and pathetically conceived that it is difficult to decide whether dialogue or delivery is worse.  It is matters not, however, as either way their placement is surely and clearly aimed but poorly and inaccurately fired. 

Revisited: Matchstick Men (2003)

            Taken from Eric Garcia’s novel of the same name and caliber, this unlikely Ridley Scott film is a straightforward adaptation of a rather serene novel.  It is as much a story about family as it is about psychological condition as it is about the con game.

            Cage stars as a successful con man whose tics and obsessive tendencies are as much a benefit to his game as they are a detriment; they ensure his precise and careful construction while at other moments almost blow the take.  Scott takes every opportunity to subject the audience to the characters point of view, a technique that years ago bothered my viewing but today are rather tame.  The jump cuts, blurred vision, intensified sound and color lend themselves appropriately to the subjective experimentation that filmmakers have been exploring since the birth of the medium.

            The film’s only glaring detriment is its low potential for a rewatch.  It has been years since I last saw it and months since I read the book, but knowing the precise narrative end ruins its surprise.  And it doesn’t, as it probably should, force one to reevaluate every scene and look for clues; the ones that exist are obvious when seen in the right context.

            Given personal affection for caper films, it is unfortunate that this one is so forgettable.  There is a sharp and crisp visual style that plays well for the story, yet with its conclusion there is not much to dwell on; everything has been patched and lives are in order.  I’ll blame Hollywood for the just heck of it.

Pumping Iron (1977)

Yes, this is the Arnold documentary where the now world famous strongman/actor/governor compares the act of weightlifting to sexual gratification.  And such comparisons never hurt his political career.  While he may not show it now, in his aged and endured state, back in the day he was ripped from head to toe, more so than in Terminator.

            Labeled as a documentary, there are many confessed falsities revealed in a follow-up documentary about the film’s making.  Regardless, the content within is energetic and testosterone infused, making it all the more entertaining and impressive.  There seems a natural peculiarity in the sport itself, where one builds loads of muscle then poses on stage to scores of screaming fans and everyday weaklings.  Perhaps there is something vicarious in a muscle-bound mammoth of a man displays the potential of the human body, a potential that none of us normies will ever reach.

            At the same time there is just as much oddity in the event.  It is like a freakshow, a collection of strange people, who in this case have something in common.  But unlike that malformed or bizarre, these people have intentionally transformed their body into something more.  And more is better.

            The film creates a battle between Arnold and an East Coast nemesis who weighs in at 275 pounds of solid muscle.  His father is his trainer, he is partially deaf, and his gym is like a torture chamber where he gruels away the days.  On the other side of the country is Arnold pumping weights at Gold’s Gym and Venice Beach and posing in photo shoots with bikini-clad women.  And this rivalry was created for the film, regardless of whether it would have existed itself; it was embellished by the filmmakers for the sake of conflict.

            This is not altogether a bad thing, but labeling it a documentary stretches the definition to a degree.  A degree that, in my opinion, is not even necessary in the first place.  The body building culture, which is still effectively portrayed throughout the film, is fascinating in its own right.  Legions of screaming fans and scores of muscle magazines and groups of the manliest of men encouraging each other to lift a little more.  Much of this film is consists of groaning interludes with specific music that, if one were to close their eyes, could be mistaken for an old-school adult film.

            But ‘tis not the case and this 1977 feature is as motivating as it is curious.  A definite must for the cult fan, doc snob, and muscle head.