Remember When We Had Them All On The Run?

Moonrise Kingdom (Anderson, 2012)

I never went to summer camp. I don't know if that makes me an outlier to the quintessential American experience, but growing up I never spent a day of summer at a day camp. Looking back I'm not entirely sure what I missed, but the romantic notions that I have associated with what occurs at camp (thanks in no small part to Salute Your Shorts) have always left me wondering what would have changed if some of my summers were spent in this idealized wonderland of quasi-freedom. Now of course I'm sure no camp is anywhere close to how I imagine, but I think what draws me to it is the fictionalized allure of sorting out all the strange feelings of approaching maturity with boys and girls who were all on the precipice of adolescence. And it's this feeling, one that permeates throughout the whole of Wes Anderson's latest film Moonrise Kingdom, that makes my imaginary sanctuary a semi-tangible reality. This almost fairy tale that is underscored by so much painful reality, an escape that forces confrontation of truth.

Let This Whole Town Hear Your Knuckles Crack

Dark Shadows (Burton, 2012)

In many ways I grew up loving the films of Tim Burton and he holds the most spots of any director in my personal Top 97 Greatest Films, so much so that all the recent attacks on him regarding his recycling and rehashing of material, no matter how illogical, unfounded, or simply talking-point-surface-level-dismissals without much credibility tend to bother me. They bothered me so much so that after seeing Alice in Wonderland in IMAX, a film that I found enjoyable but severely underwhelming considering that it followed up what I consider to be Burton's best film in Sweeney Todd and in comparison to his entire filmography, I wondered if some of these attacks were not entirely off point.

And then the trailer for his latest (of two 2012 releases) film Dark Shadows hit the internet a few months ago and I became worried. It all started out excellently, recalling Sweeney Todd, but then it indulged in comedy while "Season of the Witch" played loudly and I was puzzled. The jokes were lazy, the premise seemed thin, and it just left a sour taste. I should probably mention that I have no experience with the original 1960's 1,000+ episode series. Either way, as I walked in to the theater, I was afraid. Perhaps this was the turning point, perhaps Burton really has lost his way. Or perhaps, just maybe, I was fooled by another misleading trailer.

Used To Be The One Of The Rotten Ones And I Liked You For That

the Last Song (Robinson, 2010)

A common complaint leveled against the present day Hollywood system deals with the lack of originality. Every film seems to exist as a remake or an adaptation, leaving creative filmmakers in the dust and keeping a fine control over exactly what ideas and perspectives are brought to a wide audience. While I do not find the constant desire to remake films or adapt existing franchises to the screen as a necessarily bad tactic, when looking at a film like the Last Song, based on a Nicholas Sparks novel that at the time of filming was still a work in progress, certainly could have used a bit more originality, and a much larger injection of creativity. But many films have enough intangibles to transcend typical flaws, so can the Miley Cyrus factor shoulder the weight of the film on her shoulders?

She Was Born In Spring, But I Was Born Too Late

Three Colors: Red (Kieslowski, 1994)

I entered Krzysztof Kieslowski's final entry in his Three Colors Trilogy, Three Colors: Red, with a great deal of uncertainty tinged with a splash of hopefulness. I had little frame of reference for this film, knowing little about the actual plot that would be explored and having never seen another film from the Polish director, but the reputation these films have built up since their release in the early 1990's is astounding. However, outside of the reputation I did not know the plot of this film or its exact connections to the previous two films in the trilogy. So after sitting down to confront this film would it have been better to build context with the other two films or will I have to already begin revising my Top 97?

Your Hair Is Brown. Your Eyes Are Hazel, And Soft As Clouds

Lost in Translation (Coppola, 2003)

At the heart of what is likely Sophia Coppola's most iconic film, Lost in Translation, is the idea of two lost individuals finding themselves in a land where reality mingles with artifice. Obviously this does not imply that Japan is some stand in for society at large, but the location should not be trivialized as it is in a film like Before Sunrise, where the location is tangential to the overall romance. No, here Tokyo is almost essential to the central relationship because it exists as just far enough away, displaced enough to ensure that Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) and Bob (Bill Murray) are going to have to spend some time together if only to pass the time, to have someone else who will listen. The film champions the most basic of human connections, and from there it continues to grow.

Coppola is known for being able to set moods in her films thanks to strings of visually evocative images that are interwoven with fairly simplistic stories. Lost in Translation proves to be no exception, especially for much of the first half of the film. Sure Murray is able to make the viewer empathize with a man who has apparently been beaten down by life. Despite being a once successful actor he is not passing on passion projects in order to cash in on his likeness. Johansson's Scarlett is just as aimless, being trapped in a relationship that keeps her locked away during the days and nights, simply passing the time in this high quality hotel. What is a philosophy major to do? Contemplate. These are two people who may not be lost, so much as stagnant. And despite the beautiful construction of scenes the film sort of stagnates with a couple half laughs and some passing interest in the singular lives of these two characters, but it never really picks up until they both begin leaving the hotel behind.

Shedding the confines lifts a type of oppression from the film, and the the vibrant streets of Tokyo make for an excellent retreat from the retreat when paired with the energy between the two leads and Coppola's wonderful camera. A run through a Japanese pachinko parlor, basically a slot house/arcade hybrid if my American interpretation of the game is reliable, stands out as one of the early sequences where we can begin to see the bonds between the two developing. While it would not be difficult to put a decidedly sexual undertone to the whole relationship, it seems more to me that each are simply learning from one another. Charlotte seeks affirmation that her life will get better than Bob's, and he seeks reaffirmation that there's still reason to continue with his life. As the film continues to build it becomes stark, beautiful, and utterly heartbreaking because the script takes the initial simplicity and, seemingly naturally, stumbles upon some of the most honest and truthful dialogue ever written.

Some films thrive on flash, and while there are plenty of visceral thrills and pleasures to be had with Lost in Translation it really is the minimalism that makes the film work so perfectly, especially towards the end. You can dig in to the film and find a complexity that is as wide open as the final encounter between Charlotte and Bob. People don't live or die, people just float. And in many ways, this film is a beautiful exercise in people floating along before encountering another individual. Having that chance to be free, to bare your soul to another, to learn and interact. It's this sense of freedom that the film captures, juxtaposing with with the newness and construction of the travel experience. We can't hold on to these feelings, but it makes us wonder why we hold this freedom back from others, how we perform for the world, and what it means to not perform. Eventually we will go on floating again, how permanent is any relationship? Maybe everyone has the answer, Lost in Translation certain appears to, but maybe we just don't want to hear it, we want to never know.

Netflix Rating: ****/*****

Rich

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

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I've Liked You For A Thousand Years. I Can't Wait Until I See You.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (Wright, 2010)

In the past few years the Hollywood interest in comic book films has continued to crescendo with huge critical and financial successes such as the Spiderman, Iron Man, and Batman franchises. Aside from being overly saturated by testosterone, such hits have lined summers with blockbuster after blockbuster by sticking to a generic story telling structure of origin stories and world threatening conflict to provide enough action to coerce the adrenaline to come out and frolic. But top tier names are only so plentiful, so the surge in comic book popularity led to various graphic novels getting translations to the silver screen in the form of Watchmen, Sin City, and most recently Kick-Ass. These films focus heavily on action, but the visual flourishes in these films are much more prominent and distinctly separate them form the larger hyped films. So when a director whose claim to fame is his astounding ability to deftly blend genres tackles a film that asks him to combine the entertainment of high action sequences with the charm of a niche graphic novel when I reach a killscreen am I going to want to press continue?

Edgar Wright's follow up to Hot Fuzz details the life of titular protagonist Scott Pilgrim as he literally fights for the love of Ramona Flowers whilst seeking success with his band Sex Bob-Omb. So, naturally, the film is an action film, correct? Well, not exactly. Edgar Wright makes comedies, and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is stuffed to the brim with more big laughs and subtle touches than I have had the pleasure of seeing since Superbad. But the film, it's certainly not a comedy, as the central relationship is far too much of a driving force. So essentially Scott Pilgrim is a video game meets a graphic novel makes love to a comedy spawns a romance and genetically engineers an action film, donning a musical thong. So I can naturally expect this film to have tonal inconsistencies, but Wright avoids this incredibly common pitfall by keeping the film moving at such a rapid pace, and really packing each and every frame with such a completely realized vision that it never has time to stray from the mood set from the opening Universal logo.

What I notice in this film, and even in Wright's former films, is exactly how much care is placed in every shot. Each use of pixelation, each blur, every censor, all the logos and the outfits, they all establish the world so perfectly. The visual aesthetic works wonderfully with the editing and other visual flairs of the film which include segments that play out at graphic novels and other forms of visual media. But what stands out the most on a visual level is the jaw dropping fight sequences. Each one plays out so differently and allows Wright to showcase a range of film making techniques and styles that synthesize action with comedy and even with music when the script calls for more flashy fights. The more time I have to sit with these sequences and really consider how visually intensive the scenes are, while still maintaining a delightfully charming low budget look.

And of course there's the soundtrack. Anchored by Beck and Broken Social Scene serving a stand ins for Sex Bob-Omb and Crash and the Boys, respectively, the variety of sounds are an absolute delight while still feeling natural and unforced in the context of the film. But not only do the songs serve the overall tone of the film, they also enhance the action, and they enhance the comedy. Rarely have songs ever felt so integrally tied to a film that is not a musical. I suppose the easy comparison to make is to the score in I Am Love, despite the shift in intensity and purpose, the film is elevated incredibly by the use of a very specific type of music employed in a simply masterful manner. But even above the soundtrack is the film's score, a string of wonderful compositions littered with signature video game sounds that play lightly in the background of many scenes. These effect creates such a wonderfully engulfing mood that I found myself completely sucked in every moment of this ride.

However, despite my gushing so far the film is certainly not without its flaws. While the film runs at a neat, and incredibly quick, two hours, I did get the feeling that a complete story is not entirely present. Now I am aware that the film is based on pre-existing source material, so I was able to fill in a few of the holes, but even with this background knowledge I did not find myself incredibly invested in all of the plot lines. Wright juggles so many characters that I was not surprised to see some catch the short end of the stick, but the Kim character is treated as such a removed character that one of the emotional pay offs does not work much at all. Perhaps having her not be important is meant to show the distance between her and Scott though, which does add up but still does not make the plot nearly as satisfying as many of the other threads running throughout the film. The movie needs room to breathe, to completely bring life to all of these characters, and to better reinforce the intensity of the central romance. These aspects are not the strongest, but one of the strengths in O'Malley's series of graphic novels is in the ability to insert quietly beautiful meditations on love amidst the action, and the film does capture the occasionally sickeningly, yet always infectious, feelings of human connection near perfectly.

Another aspect of the comic that is captured in the film, and can stand alone without reading any of the graphic novels, is the character of Scott Pilgrim. Scott is meant to be sympathetic, but we are also asked to realize that Scott is both ignorant to the world around him and as a result kind of a self centered dick. Cera brings this sense to the character wonderfully, combined of course with Wright's inventive way of conveying to the audience how exactly Scott's mind if working. As a viewer I do not always condone Scott's actions, but I can understand them, and the commentary on the illogical human mind is wonderfully woven in to the film, as well as the idea of a society that promotes such behavior. Of course these qualities all rely on the right type of delivery and Michael Cera further cements his status as the best comedic actor of all time by perfectly delivering Scott's lines and conveying his disconnect with his environment. For much of the film Cera does stick with his comfort zone, and the film does really benefit from him doing so, but he does also have big scenes in the action sequences and he further proves his ability to be legitimate 'actor,' depending on one's definition of the art form. Scott is not the drastic change that the Dillinger character is in Youth in Revolt, but not only is he in top form in this film, his ability to work with the fight choreography, both on the ass kicking and ass kicked ends, is simply stunning and further sells what are likely the most enjoyable action sequences I have ever seen.

The film's diverse cast also boasts a ton of other talented actors, but the one that practically steals the show is Kieran Culkin. He impressed me in Lymelife, though I was certainly not prepared for simply how excellent he would be in the role of Wallace Wells, Scott's roommate. He floats through scenes with such poise and precision, delivering his dialogue with such sincerity and charm. His performance is truly a sight to behold. Jason Schwartzman is also excellent doing Jason Schwartzman, and actually all members of the League of Evil Exes play their character uniquely and wonderfully. A few of the secondary character in particular were a huge hit with my audience as well. The females in the film are enjoyable as well, but very few are given very much to do. I wish that more time could have been spent with Envy Adams, not only because Brie Larson is mighty pretty but also because her The Clash at Demonhead performance is one of the best tracks in the film, and the sequence between her and Scott has the potential to be even more emotionally resonant. The stand out of the females is found in the form of Ellen Wong as Knives Chau, a heartbreakingly impressionable Scott super fan girl who exists as a wonderfully satirical spin on Caucasian perspective. Many of the supporting characters play one note roles, but each and every one plays that note pitch perfect.

Coming out of the film I was unsure of exactly how much value I found in Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, but as I started writing about the film I not only learned that I enjoyed the film far more than I had initially imagined (and I am certainly looking forward to seeing it again upon its theatrical release) but the film is also considerably more admirable than I had considered. The startlingly inventive construction and editing are enough to make Wright's latest film a truly uniquely enjoyable experience, but the film's ability to capture such raw moments of beauty in a minefield of laughs cements Wright's status as one of my favorite filmmakers, despite the abysmal Shaun of the Dead, and - finally - left me completely satisfied after seeing a comedy...as much as the label is applicable. At its worst Scott Pilgrim is a masterclass of filmmaking, but this film exists, on practically every level, as a film constructed for me to love. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is imaginative, inventive, and a film that truly exists as a representation of the time in which it spawned while still holding enough timeless qualities to make it one of the year's finest.

Comments are encouraged and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

There's A Place In The Buried West, In A Cave, With A House In It

Back to a quick entry of short paragraph reviews, though this time I have a theme to work with sort of as each film chronicles a tale taking place in a different country. Also, these films are all 2009 films, as my count on the year quickly approaches the 60 film mark. I was going to toss in a Trick 'r Treat review in here as well, but I think that one will get its own entry, especially since it works its way into my incredibly generic Keep the Lights On! October mini-marathon of horror films. Additionally, readers here may or may not know that I have been writing two weekly articles for The Reelists, so you can keep up with regular posts from me there as well as Processed Grass has taken a bit of a back seat to that one. Either way, on to the four films.

Anvil! The Story of Anvil (Gervasi, 2009)

I know enough about metal to know that, the majority of modern, inaudible, loud music is crap. I know enough about Canada to know that it kicks a good deal of ass, at least the parts in which I've traveled thus far. That said, I knew nothing about the band Anvil prior to entering this film, so like any good documentary I was prepared to get learned on the subject. The hook here is that Anvil is like a real life Spinal Tap~esque doc, and as far as humor goes it mostly delivers. The laughs are plentiful, especially early on since the film begins to tackle a few more deeper emotions as the narrative progresses, though humor can only carry a film so far. Luckily, Anvil! does not put a huge emphasis on the music, though the small snippets that were played were nice enough to listen to since Anvil apparently plays the 80's hair metal stuff rather than that new age grunt and yell. It's not Black Sabbath, Hell it's not even any Megadeth...well okay maybe it's comparable to Megadeth, which means it's still pretty decent. Still, the focus here is on the lead singer, Lips, and his constant determination, his drive to succeed. The man's passion and determination are admirable, two qualities the film captures nicely, but I suppose the notion that one can take away is that Lips is just a nice guy. And maybe nice guys do finish last, but why is money important when you are doing something you love? These concepts are a little too general for my liking, but the film makes them compelling. Plus the pacing helps make the viewing enjoyable and less of a chore. I had expected this year's Man on Wire or King of Kong, what I go was a doc that is slightly better than Soul Power, but not quite up to the level of a Food, Inc. How's that for arbitrary?

B/B+ or 3.7648972146234623085435

Sin Nombre (Fukunaga, 2009)

Traveling from Canada to Brazil, or Mexico, or someplace weird like that, we get the directorial debut from Cary Joji Fukunaga who has one of the coolest names I've ever seen given that he was apparently born and raised in Oakland. Simply by looking at the film one would not guess that it is a director's first effort, everything about the movie is visually beautiful, but when we start looking at the narrative the film's flaws are slowly exposed. Character motivation is not always there, some of the situations are a bit too convenient, and the relationship between the two leads does not really generate enough interest to feature it as the main focus of the story. Thankfully the film has enough depth that the glimpses into gang life, the journey Mexico to the United States, and the development of a young mind are all incredibly fascinating and handled with incredible mastery. Fukunaga makes the world and the characters come alive despite not getting much from his leads, so for that I would be willing to call the film at least pretty good, but add in the fact that the cinematography is spectacular and the film showcases some of the greatest costumes all year and I am very confident in calling Sin Nombre a successful film despite the numerous shortcomings from a narrative perspective.

B-/B or 3.4683245307964952753

Tulpan (Dvortsevoy, 2009)

Next stop on this entry's world wide (but not really since we are only showcasing two continents) tour we make a quick stop in Kazakhstan to take a look at this year's Kazakh entry for the Best Foreign Film Oscar. Focusing on the exploits of an aspiring goat farmer, Tulpan showcases an interesting filmmaking style and mixes with a great lead performance to make for a touching comedy with more than enough drama and symbolism going on to keep me interested in a cerebral sense. The driving sequences here are really entertaining as well and they help with character juxtaposition and ideological comparison. Overall the film is a little disjointed in the sense that I can remember individual scenes fondly, but as a whole the film does not really stand out until the climax. But oh boy is it some climax. Tension is built, I was left feeling slightly uncomfortable but also compelled to watch, drawn to see how everything would play out. And the payoff is both rewarding and a great conclusion to the film's themes. I was not expecting much from this film and, while it does have its share of flaws, the camera is used in such interesting ways and the performances are so good that I can easily recommend the film to anyone with an interest in Kazakh cinema and, likely more pertinent to any readers, dramadies in general. Plus the film links the majority of its themes with symbols in the movie, and I really had a fun time making these connections, so there is a bit of extraneous detail to chew on during repeat viewings. Tulpan likely will not stand much of a chance at taking home the Foreign Language Picture Oscar because it does not seem like the type of film the Academy gravitates towards, but it seems like as good a place as any to start with Kazakh cinema. Additionally, I have now seen as many goats being born as I have people.

B- or 3.3982348732894537205832

Away We Go (Mendes, 2009)

Does that smell like a Big Mac with the buns replaced by Boston Cream Doughnuts? We must be back in America. Fittingly, this cinematic tour concludes with Away We Go, a film that is, at least partially, about traveling. Also continuing the idea of directors dealing with a foreign country, Sam Mendes' follow up to last year's brilliant Revolutionary Road comes in the form of another tale about the American family struggling with a new situation. This time Mendes lets his comedy come out, anchored by a fairly well known cast of actors. Jim Gaffigan, John Krasinski, Maya Rudolph, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and Catherine O'Hara are just a few of the faces that make appearances during the film's mostly lean run time. As a comedy I am not sure how successful the film is because, well, the film did not make me laugh all that often or all that audibly. And in retrospect I am not sure how well the Rudolph/Krasinski relationship worked for me either since I recall very few specific details about the two aside from the fact that she was pregnant and they were attempting to find 'home.' The whole point here is the journey though, and Mendes packs the film with enough heightened realism to make each stop at least interesting in some regard. The real strength of the film though is, without a doubt, the direction paired with the cinematography. Mendes sure has a way with a camera, a brilliant sophistication that makes for an ocular delight. Sure that is not enough to outweigh all of the narrative's negatives nor does it excuse a lackluster central romance, but damn does the film look fantastic.

C/C+ or 2.9892317438290534805

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

What A Gas It Was To See Him Walk Her Every Day Into A Shady Place

Planned on doing a double shot review, but I just do not feel that I have much to say about the second film, so I'm just going to tack on a little bit at the end to give it some attention.

Gigantic (Aselton, 2009)

In many ways, Gigantic is a wonderful experiment that ends up, somehow to its benefit, less than the sum of its parts. Anchored by a wonderful cast, featuring Zooey Deschanel in her second, and more impressive, performance of the year, first time director Matt Aselton comes out firing on all cylinders, but has a good deal of trouble putting everything together for a transcendental film. However, this does not prove to be the detriment that it would immediately seem to imply. Gigantic constantly walks a fine technical line, shifting from beautifully disciplined camera movement, albeit a bit too contained at the film's start, to wonderfully beautiful hand held shots that showcase a striking freedom, such as the scene where the camera drifts in and out of trees in the woods. Unquestionably, the film is a visual powerhouse. The cinematography is some of the best of the year so far and Aselton shows a ton of potential for any future films he will hopefully involve himself in. Whether in the city or out in the forest, he has a way with presenting scenes in visually striking manners. The film is technically brilliant.

The ideas presented in the film are mighty interesting as well, though the movie could have likely used another ten minutes or so to give the viewer a push in some sort of general direction. I am all about ambiguity, and the way the film is constructed the ambiguous nature of the plot lines proves to be crucial to the entire experience, but the idea does not completely pay off at the end. However, I find myself incredibly interested to take a look back and see if I over looked any tiny details that may help give me something more to latch onto and ponder even more in depth. The humor, surprisingly, lands when it is used, but the film is hardly a laugh a minute. Thankfully, the film also crafts some pretty fascinating characters to make up for the fact that that plot is a little lean. But the film is also fairly complex and, much to my delight, only hints instead of coming out and actually revealing things, which I love in films. It makes the audience work, and I can respect the script for taking that chance.

Of course a lot of the writing could easily go to waste with a cast that is not capable of handling the roles. As I said, Deschanel is brilliant, and beautiful, and just about everything the role needs. Of course placing Dano opposite her, and having him turn in a performance that is both human and genuine, capturing the struggles of what appears to be a troubled man attempting to exist in 'normal' society, is a choice that pays off in droves. Goodman is mighty great as well, and Asner turns in a performance that is certainly at least five steps above his voice work in the underwhelming, and incredibly overrated, Pixar film Up from earlier this year. Other highlights of Gigantic include a soundtrack that rivals Adventureland and Lymelife for the year's best, a fantastic supporting cast, and a highly stylized world that all add up to one Hell of a debut for Matt Aselton.

Throne of Blood (Kurosawa, 1957)

The film is visually gorgeous, the score is pretty great, the acting is good, and the film is another great effort from Akira Kurosawa. Sadly, this film felt much slower than the two previous Kurosawa films that I have watched and I really think that the silent portions here, unlike in Rashomon, detracted instead of added to the film. Basically the film is a standard retelling of Macbeth, and I've always been of the mind that Macbeth is much better material to be discussed than to be watched or read. Not surprisingly, that transfers over to Throne of Blood mostly. It's a pretty great adaptation I suppose, despite leaving out a few things from the play, I believe. But he also injects his own themes and visual symbols, which adds more to the film, I reckon. Can't say I was blown away though or that I have much to say about the film. It's really solid and a technically great film, but it just never really grabbed me.

B+ or 3.898213472146702381645823

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

Take A Look At Eye Full Towers, Never Trust Them Dirty Liars

Paper Heart (Jasenovec, 2009)

In a year that has seen its fair share of incredible comedies and phenomenal documentaries, Paper Heart pulls both genres together, sits them in a room, and tells them to fight. In many ways this film is likely the physical result of the make up sex of that encounter. Featuring the infectiously endearing Charlene Yi as she travels across the globe in a quest to define love, Paper Heart sits somewhere between film and mockumentary with a noticeable grace. Now after seeing the film I am still not entirely sure what it should be classified as, the actual interviews seem to be genuine, but the film is clearly a fabrication. Regardless, the tactic is mighty interesting and plays with the notions that viewers have both of film and drama while adding to the questions about what is real and what is constructed when deal with the idea of love, so the film certainly succeeds in its assembly.

Speaking of constructed, the actors on display here are pretty fantastic. In many ways the only actor in the film is Jake Johnson as he plays the film's director, Nicholas Jasenovec, but I am fairly sure that each cast member in the film, that is the non interviewees, are all performing. Yi is spectacular, and she needs to be for the film to succeed at any level, but her real strength constantly seems to be her reluctance mixed with her curiosity. These traits keep the interviews compelling, but they also help build her character progressively throughout the film. Still, the obvious standout has to be Michael Cera. Cera plays an altered version of himself, seemingly embracing and challenging the notions of him always playing the same character, with tremendous humor and subtlety. Cera is mighty spectacular in the role, slightly reminiscent of his time on the Clark and Michael web series but also a good deal more refined. He does not play himself, Michael Cera plays the public perception of Michael Cera.

As for the technical aspects, the film is actually impressive as well. Designed to keep the viewer off guard, Paper Heart switches from overly documentary sequences, where the film grain is kicked up to enormous levels, to really beautiful and disciplined shots, like the walk through the forest between Yi and Johnson. However, the sequence that stands out would have to be the scenes in Paris. At the drop of a hat the film takes these entirely constructed sequences and switches the way they are presented almost instantaneously, which is even more impressive the more I look back on the film. However, the direction is not the only striking visual aspect showcased here. The film has numerous charming sequences where interviewees detail their own personal love stories while Yi animates the stories with hand crafted puppets. These scenes are some of the most visually striking of the film and are used to great effect. The film is also enhanced by the score, which is mighty top notch.

In many ways, Paper Heart is probably a comparable film to Bruno, and I would actually be interested in doing a follow up comparison of the two films so someone should make me do that in the near future, in the sense that both subvert a viewer's notions of what a docu/mockumentary should be and how the topics should be covered. Obviously, Paper Heart is more of a film than Bruno, and even more complex as I begin to write more and more about my short time, about an hour and a half, with the film, but they both share some downfalls as well. Not all of the interviews land and the laughs, though clearly there, are not as big as in a straight comedy. However, all of these minor problems are practically irrelevant when looking at the bigger picture. Paper Heart is a layered and complex film that does not only examine love, but examines the entire idea of fabricated realities. At first I was not entirely blown away by the film, but, as is the case with every great film, the more thought I allot to Paper Heart, the better the film appears.

A/A- or 4.389289472308147810234723104


Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

There'll Always Be A Few Things, Maybe Several Things, That Your Gonna Find Really Difficult To Forgive

Princess Mononoke (Miyazaki, 1997)

Well, I suppose it is about time that I get to Miyazaki's crown gem, or what I assume is his crown gem considering that Spirited Away is not nearly that great. Going into Princess Mononoke I had only the film's reputation to go on as I did not know anything of the film's plot. Of course as I gazed down at my Netflix sleeve to see that the run time was listed as two hours and fourteen minutes I found myself pretty worried that this film was going to be a bit too long for its own good, after all, the best Miyazaki films are the shorter ones. Oh yes, I was also pretty sure that I heard this film dealt with some environmentalism crap, and since I have made it my mission in life to personally see my own carbon footprint before I die I was pretty sure that any overtly environmentally friendly themes would end up pissing me off. But hey, I'm an open minded kind of guy, so bring on the Mononoke!

The first striking characteristic the film possesses, well aside from the visual aesthetic, is found in the form of the story. Now I do not use the word story in the sense that the word refers to plot, but rather I mean to say in the way the story is told. In many ways Princess Mononoke is a fairy tale, not unlike classic Disney films that focus on Princesses, albeit with much more characterization, as it possesses all the whimsy of a magical world existing in a mostly realistic setting. The world is really well established. The story is simple enough that it feels like it is being told instead of watched, a characteristic that is captured perfectly in the film, but I do not think designating Mononoke as a simple fairy tale completely does the film justice. In many ways Princess Mononoke feels more like a myth, lore passed down from generation to generation and being refined through each progressive telling of the tale. Now I'm sure I got this feeling because of the film's context, it does take place in historical Japan, I think, so the fact that it feels like a myth rather than a fairy tale is expected. However, what I found particularly fascinating was how it felt so culturally specific yet works so well for an audience member who is not a part of this culture. I think part of Miyazaki's ability is to craft and play with this universal magic without sacrificing the Japanese element of the film. In short, the way the story is presented is pretty wonderful.

Of course that is not to say that the film is all whimsy and child friendly. The content is rather mature, limbs fly all over the place and blood plays a hefty part in Mononoke, but it is all handled so gracefully. And there is that little environmental aspect, but the film handles it more as a reverence that is nicely disguised to work with the time instead of being something that hits the viewer over the head. Plus the film does not take the whole 'all technology is terrible' route either, so I can definitely appreciate that given the way Miyazaki openly says that both sides can coexist peacefully. The film works as an allegory alright, but as a straight up film it works as well. The opening sequence is riveting and really all of the action sequences are high energy filled thrill rides. On top of that the film mostly nails all of the sombre moments as well, so I am mostly confident when I say that the run time, despite being a little lengthy, is not a detriment to the film at all, though I did need to take a break during the run time for what that is worth. Actually though it is refreshing to see an animated film willing to stretch out the run to over two hours, as most great animated films I generally want to see more of, so having Mononoke take on a lengthier feel, which also enhances the mythological epic feeling, was a wise choice.

Speaking of animated films, all the technical aspects on display here are top notch. From character animation to the way scenes are drawn, the film is a visual power house. Obviously the imagination in the fantastic characters is going to stand out, Miyazaki has a way with designing these larger creatures that oozes originality, but the real strength is the way that he designs the worlds. The forests, the mountains, and the towns all have a believable beauty to them, not to mention that the traditionally drawn animals are incredible. However, to enhance these creatures, the ones that actually speak are voiced with an insane intensity that makes for numerous great voicing performances. Now I watched the film with subtitles so really all I could go on was how the lines were delivered, but even with this I found myself mostly swept away with the characters. A lot of effort apparently went into the dub as well, so I watched a few scenes with the American voice cast and I can mostly say that the quality of the voice acting there is at least on the level of the Japanese voices. The film, all around, sounds spectacular. Mix that with a brilliant score and the film records high marks in terms of technical quality as well.

So by now it should be pretty obvious that I loved my time with Princess Mononoke. The film is mature, complex, and pretty much a master piece. It avoids the pitfalls that plague some of Miyazaki's lesser works like Spirited Away and Howl's Moving Castle, and I would have to say that it rivals My Neighbor Totoro and possibly even Porco Rosso as the best Miyazaki film that I have seen. Okay, well maybe not Porco Rosso, but I certainly love it as much as Totoro. Any minor problems that I found with Princess Mononoke have quickly been forgotten in one night's time and I am left remembering all of the breath taking positives. On the whole, the film seems to capture what is great about animation, both Eastern and Western, and I think for that alone Princess Mononoke deserves to be championed as an artistic accomplishment. Truly one of the best films ever made.

A+ or 4.83748324623954163596159

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

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And Don't Forget To Give Me Back My Black T-Shirt

(500) Days of Summer (Webb, 2009)

So I shall preface this review with a piece of information I had not been aware of whilst watching this new picture: (500) Days is Marc Webb's debut feature. Sure that does not change my evaluation of the film, but in relation to that thought I cannot help but be a good deal more impressed with the final result and how everything came together...man. Starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt of Brick fame and Zooey Deschanel of All The Real Girls (both will be referred to as Jo and Zo for the rest of the review), the film sets itself up as the anti-rom-com that plays like a traditional romantic comedy but subverts the genre to unparalleled extremes. It does this, of course, by paying tribute to genre staples that have come before it and adding a good deal of new concepts to the mix. So if you are unable to tell from that remark, I shall state directly that the film does not completely succeed in this ambition. Still, the film has a ton of great moments and some unpolished points, of which I shall now delve into deeper detail.

The film is certainly marked by a distinctive visual style at times, both in the way it looks and the way the camera is used, but the whole thing is pretty erratic throughout. Still, the range of shots Webb uses is impressive and has me excited to see what he works on in the future. The way he uses the camera to call back to other films is mighty impressive as well. Aside from a whole black and white foreign sequence that brilliantly recalls a few Ingmar Bergman films, the hand drawn opening echoes Juno, there's an Annie Hall element to the plot, and then a good deal of others in the between. Sadly these references are not always used to great effect. Unlike the stunning split screen expectations v. reality sequence that heralds Annie Hall, the film's first two acts are mostly genre tributes just for the sake of tribute, including a terrible musical sequence. The film calls attention to use of convention, but like, to quote the severely overrated Dark Knight, a dog chasing a car the film does not know what to do once it catches it. In a sense, (500) Days makes an interesting parallel to Duncan Jones's film Moon, which also subverts genre expectations but to the film's benefit.

Just like Moon, this film showcases some pretty stellar acting as well. Jo and Zo are brilliant, particularly Zo who gives my second favorite performance by an actress this year. She plays her part perfectly, generating an almost inexplicable magical charm that simply draws the viewer toward her character. In fact she is so genuine in her performance that, when the film makes its big reveal, it almost feels like she has betrayed the viewer. Sadly, the supporting cast is nothing to write home about. Sure they all give decent performances, but the film is clearly a vehicle for Jo and Zo, so not showcasing an outstanding supporting talent is pretty obvious, I assume. Still, none of the performances are really terrible, which is a credit to the film.

Ultimately, (500) Days is an interesting idea that does not completely live up to its potential during the fairly standard one hundred minute run time. However, it should be stated that the film has an unbelievably strong third act. Once that expectations v. reality scene starts the film barrels along and never pulls a punch. Unfortunately, getting to this point we have to deal with so many scenes that lack the needed humor or intrigue to keep things fresh, the first two acts are mighty bad. I am a man who values endings though, and the way the film pulls everything together is so damn great that I can easily state that the film is, at its worst, a pretty solid film that deserves a watch. Hell, I'll even tack on the B+.

B/B+ or 3.6789772394823931523915623

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

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Surrenderin' For What? No Wavin' The Bandanna. Tell The Tool Man How I Handle The Damn Hammer

Boyz N the Hood (Singleton, 1991)

I was glancing over my other reviews and I noticed that, with the possible exception of The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, I have yet to write a definitively negative review for a film. Going into Boyz N The Hood I was aware that director John Singleton is the only African American to ever be nominated for Best Director and, I learned this later, he is also the youngest nominee for the category. Now add that into the fact that I knew the film had a reputation for being a really great and insightful look at urban violence that neither glorifies or condemns the lifestyle, though that proves to be a misleading notion, while telling a compelling story with believable characters. I usually like films of this nature, the ones that ask questions and expose problems. So mix all of these things together with my fairly high expectations and what result is yielded? My first overtly negative reflection, of course.

Boyz N the Hood starts off wielding a ten ton hammer that is swung around with more violent rage than any act of brutality in the whole film, all in an attempt to hit the viewer over the head with some simplistic parallel that apparently is designed to be deep or insightful or something like that which hardly works. The scene which I refer to is, of course, the one where the children see that blood is turning yellow and one says "that's because of the plasmids separating," or a similar line. Oh boy, it's like the kids are learning the same thing as everyone except in a different way because of their living circumstances. The streets are just as educational as the classroom. Piss off, John Singleton, you think this is anything but a needlessly overt way to start off a film? Mix that in a few scenes later with Trey's arrival at his father's house depicting, after cleaning, a run down lawn shown alongside the neighbor's beautiful green grass. Lovely, everything is always greener on the other side. Good move.

Thankfully, Singleton backs off of these cliched and overly simplistic literary devices when the boys exit childhood and become high school seniors preparing for the end of school. Sadly, what replaces these tired devices proves to be just as detrimental to the film. Singleton essentially trades in his run down Toyota for a tractor with two wheels. The script takes an odd turn to a very cliched Hollywood story telling sense where a love interest is needlessly thrown in, a wife and bastard child are added to set up for more emotional impact later in the film, and the story takes no turn from the first party until the credits. The film just feels like an independent film fighting with a Hollywood film and, much like Doughboy and Ricky earlier, the film just gets dingy and gives up. While there are the occasional sequences that do take a few risks, as a whole the film is so by the numbers that these small probes into meaningful territory are completely undermined.

What seemed so tough whilst watching the film though was not that the film simply kept inserting cliche after cliche, but that it needlessly heightened just about every circumstance and conflict. A scene towards the end where Ricky's SAT scores are revealed proves to be absolutely cringe worthy. Singleton forces stakes into the film and they really stick out as cheap and unnecessary when placed alongside what is supposed to be a tragically brutal and realistic portrayal of impoverished life. On top of that, Singleton's direction, while a few really great shots are used, such as the walk down the rail road tracks, is pretty erratic, ranging from terrible to incredible at any moment in the film. Toss in the score and many times the film started to feel less like an in depth look at urban life and more like an after school special.

Perhaps Singleton's most apparent crime in the film is not inserting needless drama, though that charge is mighty hefty, but rather the most glaring flaw is Singleton's refusal to let the film speak without dialogue. Despite having opportunities, and even using them at times, to imply things instead of directly speaking to the viewer, Singleton feels compelled to give elongated monologues where Larry Fishburne speaks to the audience about his message, and it really comes off as insincere and overly constructed. Then there are parts where someone talks about how things just keep happening "over and over again." It's all pretty painful to listen to and detracts from any impact the film hopes to make on a viewer. The film is not helped by the actors either. Fishburne is decent, but Cuba is pretty bad and Ice Cube is mostly tolerable.

And of course there is the fact that the film is going over territory already explored in much greater depth, in much more detail and with much more sophistication, in other films. The whole concept of being trapped and unable to escape, or the perceived mentality of being contained, is straight out of Charles Burnett's wonderful film Killer of Sheep. Aside from being a much more striking and emotionally engaging film, Killer of Sheep also exists in a much more reserved fashion and does not need to insult the viewer by spoon feeding ideas at each possible opportunity. On top of this, Spike Lee has explored the other territory this film masquerades as exploring in an attempt to appear complex and thought provoking. Despite it not being a tremendous film, Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing provides a more engaging and insightful look at urban life and the injustices of American society without resorting to the theatrics on display in Singleton's film, allowing for a more naturalistic film that enhances the message instead of detracts.

Much like Do The Right Thing, Boys N the Hood becomes incredibly overt at the end. Yet while Spike continues to call on reality, Boyz N the Hood continues to rely on its cheap theatrics to attempt and force a greater emotional impact on the viewer before proving to be an ultimately hollow experience. The follow up 'here's what these characters are doing now' lines that fade in and out, aside from reinforcing the After School Special feeling, continue to draw attention to the fact that everything on screen is artificially heightened and constructed; thus, any attempt to draw parallels between these characters and the reality is, for the umpteenth time, ground into a dust and blown away in the wind.

Ultimately, Boyz N the Hood is nothing more than a jumbled mishmash of ideas that are far too willing to conform to Hollywood convention to discover the sort of effective statement that the film so desperately attempts to find. Even without considering the fact that other films, and older films, have done what Singleton attempts, Boyz N the Hood still proves to be a joke of a film that struggles to ever find ground solid enough to stand on either as a high profile Hollywood film or as a thought provoking call to social action. I honestly would like to know if anyone, after seeing the Burnett film and the Lee film, can still make a case for Boyz N the Hood being worth much at all. Hell, I'd be interested in hearing this case made even from someone who has not seen either the Lee or Burnett films because it baffles me that this film can be considered anything except for glorified garbage. I imagine there is more entertainment and more insight to be gained from watching Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinkin' Your Juice in the Hood.

D/D+ or 1.718921742381742835723108

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

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Meet The New Boss, Same As The Old Boss

Ikiru (To Live) (Kurosawa, 1952)

The Kurosawa marathon continues with the 1952 film Ikiru (To Live). Now because I know little about Kurosawa outside of what I saw in Rashomon I have to wonder if this film is any indication of what types of films are to come in the future from the acclaimed director. Sure Rashomon started getting all philosophical at the end, but Ikiru starts things off with a metaphoric bang as we quickly learn the circumstances and are introduced to our protagonist. Given the film's description on the Netflix packet I had little idea of what the film would consist of aside from a man trying to build a park, but little did I know just how deceptive such a description is in the film's larger context.

Speaking of larger context let's start pretty broad and begin narrowing things down from there. Kurosawa turns in another fantastic effort behind the camera and, in some ways even more than Rashomon, makes for a visually compelling film. Seeing how differently he handles shots in a larger and congested city as opposed to the tangled forests was interesting and really gave the film its own stylistic feel while keeping with elements that are quickly becoming Kurosawa trademarks. Once again seeing the influence that the man has had on future films is near unmistakable when watching Ikiru, but in some ways I almost felt that, as far as direction is concerned, Rashomon is just slightly stronger. However, every time I thought this we would get sequences like the playground one or the one in the bar early on. In other words, the film looks pretty damn beautiful.

So now we'll get a little more concise and focus on the acting. While the film is littered with a ton of really good performances throughout, the anchor, as the script demands, must be Watanabe. Thankfully, Takashi Shimura turns in a top notch performance that hits all of the right notes. Even if the script was horrible, the direction terrible, and the other actors particularly dreadful, I am completely confident that Shimura's performance alone would make for compelling cinema. Obviously none of that is the case though and all the surrounding elements only help to enhance his job on screen. He captures the mentality of man perfectly and seeing him develop in the face of certain death and a crumbling family life is handled masterfully, both by Shimura and Kurosawa. The performance is truly incredible and certainly had me impressed throughout the hefty two and a half hour run time.

Now the run time could have easily been a flaw, and there were one or two scenes where things slowed down a noticeable bit, but for the most part the film was paced excellently. It clearly followed a very direct Three Act structure, but age old tales have always been told about how life is, at its core, three different parts all making up a whole. I do not think it is by coincidence that Kurosawa structured the film in such a manner, and taken in context it's a truly remarkable technique. Actually, most of the artistic value of the film is handled wonderfully and just about all of the philosophical stuff is given ample attention.

The one problem I had with the film was in the bureaucratic commentary. The film starts off with a whole round about sequence of going from department to department that is used incredibly, and most of the stuff in the third act, especially the final returning to work portion, is flawlessly executed, but the theme feels a bit underdeveloped during the middle portion. Now I know this theme was not supposed to act as the backbone of this portion, but having a little more there could have really pushed the film over the top for me. When the number of successes in a film are so plentiful, as is the case with Ikiru, the one flaw tends to stand out, but as I evaluate it I am able to realize that it does not hurt the film all that much. The only other potential problem I can think of, as was the case with Rashomon, is how direct the ending is, though thankfully nothing feels rushed or forced here, so the problem here is more personal and less technical, so my supporting evidence is limited.

Ultimately, my second experience with Akira Kurosawa was similar to my first. Things start off fairly simple, but as the film builds it picks up momentum at an astounding rate and makes for an incredibly compelling film. I think the sheer amount of material here, extraneous ideas given to each individual viewer I mean, is so numerous that I need at least one more viewing to process everything, but I can say without a doubt that Ikiru demonstrates Kurosawa's versatility as a storyteller and as a director while still existing wonderfully as a narrative. Ikiru hits every note pitch perfect and has me, once again, excited to see more Kurosawa.

A[/A+?] or 4.672348239143679563159783

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

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She Looked At Him And He Felt A Spark Tingle To His Bones

Before Sunrise (Linklater, 1995)

Upon the start of Richard Linklater's film Before Sunrise I was aware of two things: it is followed up by a film called Before Sunset that I also had not watched and this was the guy who directed Dazed and Confused. It was not until I began writing this review that I learned that Mr. Linklater brings disgrace to all associated with his first name by also being the director of the dreadful School of Rock starring the waste of space known as Jack Black. Regardless, the point is that none of these things stood out as very impressive. Perhaps because of my ignorance I was able to take such joy in what I was to encounter in Before Sunrise. To put the film simply, it chronicles two people who meet on a train and spend an evening in Paris. However, the film takes a basic premise and elevates it to mighty impressive levels, putting an interesting spin on the common romance tale that has been told time and time again.

Part of the reason the film is so engaging is because it is anchored by two leads who each give performances for the ages. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy are near flawless as the two lovers, both bringing so much joy and humanity to the characters that it is near impossible for the viewer to not be wrapped up in the conversations that take place. And boy do conversations take place. Practically the entire film is spent alongside dialogue. Hawke starts and then Delpy picks up, Delpy starts and then Hawke picks up. They overlap each other, they ping pong off each other, they do it all and they keep the conversations going. Sure it's all off a script, but the chemistry here is truly amazing and it really sells the romance aspect the film presents. There is no questioning that these two people work together and that the stars have simply aligned perfectly for this evening.

Of course the film is not without its flaws, the film gets a little talky, of course nothing all that surprising considering the amount of dialogue, but since just about all the conversations are either entertaining, intellectually stimulating, or a combination of both, the one or two slower sequences are not all that detrimental to the film as a whole. The ambiguous note that the film ends on is absolutely perfect too and the fact that everything all takes place over the course of one night is pretty damn impressive. The film is as entertaining as it is beautiful and, much like Jesse and Celine's night before the sunrise, the film goes by in what seems like a flash.

A- or 4.12893127428147281470124

Before Sunset (Linklater, 2004)

Of course all this beautiful ambiguity, perfect portrayal of passion, and poetic waxing on romance can all quickly be ruined by returning to the same area about nine years later, both in time between films and time in the films, and trying to recapture the simple magic that made the first film such a joy. Thankfully, Before Sunset does not fall into this trap and surpasses Before Sunrise in just about every regard. Hawke and Delpy pick up right where things left off, falling back into the roles with masterful grace and selling the relationship almost instantaneously. All the charm is not only recaptured in the film, but delivered completely differently as time also breeds experience and knowledge, two traits that both of the performers portray beautifully. All of the magic is here. All the lengthy conversations about love, about life, and even an incredibly blow up delivered by Delpy, who is also stunningly beautiful in the film. Perhaps the most impressive choice is to not fill in the gaps and just let the film exist, as the first one does, in a short amount of time: Jesse's countdown to his flight before one Parisian sunset. The audience learns just as much as they need and the beautiful ambiguity is never sacrificed.

But going on about all of these great elements does a disservice to the greatest stride that this film makes in the ten year span since the release of Sunrise, and that would be the direction. Linklater's camera work here is incredibly impressive and each shot feels so carefully constructed. Actually, the majority of the film stands out to me, at least visually, as similar to moving photographs. I am unable to really pick out a single shot that captures the Parisian beauty because the film is really packed full of them. The scenes in the cafe, the boarding of the boat, the walk to Celine's apartment, even the beginning sequence at the book store just bleed masterful craft. The film is a visual powerhouse.

Particularly interesting is comparing how the more 'free' camera in the first film mirrors the relationship between Jesse and Celine as they met the first time and how the more focused and developed camera work now mirrors the more mature people as they have grown older and are reunited. Was this done intentionally? Going by what I saw in Dazed and Confused and School of Rock I'd say probably not, but seeing how Linklater has grown as a filmmaker just as Jesse and Celine have grown as people is, forgive me for dropping the formalities, pretty damn cool.

Before Sunset flies by just as quickly as Before Sunrise, but everything in the film is just so much more heightened and developed that it is not only the superior film, but an incredible film on its own merit. Linklater forsakes all the flash of the standard romance film, he strips away everything except the most basic of elements, and he lets things play out as two people reconnect. Linklater takes three basic elements (woman, man, and love) and weaves a compelling narrative with all the primal power of the greatest story tellers. It suffers a few of the same downfalls that I had with Sunrise, except toned down a bit, but once again the problems are not as noticeable in such a great film. And then there's always that beautiful ambiguity.

A or 4.38948320417305712375813

So I was going to write a bit more about how the two films connect, but I think I have compared, and used the word beautiful, more than enough for one blog post. The one thing I do want to say is that as individual films I am not sure that either is a masterpiece, but when taken together the whole experience is elevated. As a combination there are very few film experiences that I have had with the raw power and enjoyment from the Before Sunrise/Sunset series. Together they are a masterpiece and, I'll say it one last time, a true work of beauty.

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

Let Me Hear You Say, "Fight the Power!"

Welcome to Processed Grass, my blog for film, music, television, novels, and any other forms of culture that are not directly video game related, as those cultural venues are covered over at Multiplatform. I will give a proper first post later, but for now let's kick things off with a reflection on a brand new film!

Public Enemies (Mann, 2009)

My first experience with Michael Mann comes in the form of Public Enemies, the period piece dealing with John Dillinger, events that I have minimal knowledge about and mostly only know that Nick Twisp would like to adopt the surname in the Youth in Revolt series. Still, it bills Depp and Bale as the lead actors and the 'lesser' roles are really nothing to sneeze at either, so regardless of my knowledge of the events I should at least be able to fall back on a well known director and a good number of big name actors in what I assume, judging by the release date, is so big budget summer popcorn film that is going to follow up Transformers. I mean all the pieces are in place for a smash hit thrill ride that follows the gangster formula and plays to a market that really hasn't seen a similar film released since The Departed, correct?

Well, partially I suppose. Mann's direction ranges from brilliant to irritating, though he handles all of the action sequences spectacularly, unlike two other films featuring Bale released recently, and really the whole film is visually stunning. The costumes are great, the scenes are beautiful, and there are a number of shots that are simply top notch. All in all I'm pretty pleased with what Mann put together. Similarly, the acting is pretty damn great as well, though I don't really understand why Bale is billed as a lead. Sure he plays an important role in the plot, but he is not in the film an incredible amount of time and there are points where it is easy to forget that he is even around. When he is on screen though he's really good, playing his character believably and drifting in and out of accents that seem straight out of his 3:10 to Yuma character and the Jack Rollins character from I'm Not There. The real star though, as expected, is Depp. His performance is perfect, he brings so much to the Dillinger character that each moment he is on screen the audience is left guessing what he will do and how he will react to the situations around him. Depp plays things cool and collected when needed but he also captures the force of a truly dangerous man, it's damn impressive.

Aside from the leads though, all of the supporters do an excellent job whether their roles be small or large. Obviously the next biggest role is the love interest, played by Marion Cotillard, and she does make the most out of her screen time. I haven't seen her in anything else so I really do not have anything else to compare her performance to, but she does a really nice job here and there are a few scenes, one particular one later on, where she is pretty fantastic. Sometimes great actors and actresses come together, and I'm not saying that Bale is a great actor, and things do not always work as well as they should, but in this film all of the actors did a bang up job that became really refreshing in the midst of a lackluster summer movie season.

Actually, the entire film is a nice break from the summer blockbuster season and from the typical summer popcorn film. What could have easily been a generic over the top gangster film takes on quite a few layers by not cramming itself full of overblown gun fights or bank robberies, actually the number of each are kept surprisingly minimal, and really remaining focused on watching the characters exist in this brilliantly established world and documenting what was happening. I'd actually be really surprised if this film makes a ton of money or if it becomes associated with the stereotypical summer blockbuster because the film seems to go above and beyond that label by ignoring most conventions found in other releases this year like Star Trek or Transformers 2.

To be honest the most notable difference between those films, and I suppose a similarity as well, is how plot is handled during the film. Dillinger speaks about not living in the past or being overly concerned about the future, it's all about "where you're going," and the film seems to follow this idea in the way the film is set up. Minimal back story or motivation is given, perhaps because it's a 'true' story or perhaps not, and the film never clearly establishes a definitive goal that should be reached by the end; very little overarching plot exists in the film. Still, the film is incredibly captivating. This structure is mighty interesting and should make for a dull film that does not demand engagement, but Mann establishes the world so perfectly that it is simple to be swept away and simply go along as an observer in a manner that combines all the entertainment of a film with the interesting aspects of a History Channel special. It's pretty damn impressive and it is nice to see Mann not overly cram the film with cliche and convention in favor of entertainment and an easy to swallow film. He simply lets the film exist, adding to the 'real world' quality and enhancing the world that is presented, all blending together spectacularly.

So do I know if all the facts line up? Probably not. Is it the best film of the year or a transcendental experience? Nope. Hell, do I even think that it is one of the best gangster films ever made? Certainly not. But Mann provides an entertaining, interesting, and exciting film that is a breath of fresh air in an over crowded, explosion filled summer, and for that I can be pleased.

B+ or 4.189812423748214727895637198

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

Photos from cinematical.com, scribeculture.com, and joblo.com in order of appearance