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.

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Two Eyes Took The Aim Behind A Man's Brain, But He Can't Be Blamed

Brüno (Charles, 2009)

Just three years after the release of Sasha Baron Cohen's near legendary film Borat was released to American audiences amidst high critical praise, Cohen is back with a film very similar in nature, Brüno. Given the man's reputation, and even the slew of cameo appearances that Cohen has made in various films since Borat's release, the fact that expectations for the follow up film were sky high was pretty hard to overlook. Perhaps Borat was too big, surely the crew would not be able to find unsuspecting interviewees, let alone ones who are icons in the media, just a slim three years since the release of Borat. Well, these doubts were not without concern, but thankfully Cohen was able to find just enough to make a mostly engaging follow up without going too overboard. Mixed with Cohen's comedic genius, the film proves to be a solid comedy and, as expected, exposes some more of the American mentality and all that comes with such a mind frame.

While I would love to say that there is a ton of substance to Brüno, that is simply not the case. The constructed story is fairly basic and mostly follows the exact same formula that Borat did, except that this film has much more actual story instead of interviews and things of that nature, likely because it was a bit more difficult to find people who did not know that Cohen was once again on the prowl. As a result, Cohen deviates from what was Borat's, and also what is Brüno's, greatest strength: pressing people to expose prevalent attitudes that are usually well concealed. Cohen's ability to see below the surface is truly astounding though and when he is given the chance to sit down and talk the film really shines in a way that mimics some of the greatest documentaries.

Sadly, these sequences come at a price. Cohen uses various sequences that do not drive at any particular point at all and seem to conform to the notion that these films are designed to shock simply to shock instead of challenging this notion by providing more direct satire. One of the film's lowest points comes in the form of a talk show session when Cohen parades around an adopted child. While even this scene has a few moments of brilliant, the reveal of being a homosexual and seeing how the crowd turns on him is brilliant, the scene is followed up with needless shock and needless theatrics that add little to the film overall. Of course the few scenes like this only make the scenes like the 'gay converters' in Alabama even more rewarding and, with the exception of the song at the end of the peace talks skit, a part that is humorous but does not really bring all that much substance, the humus conversation is genius, plain and simple.

The problem that Brüno could have easily fallen into is that, unlike Borat, focusing on the fashion world as a means of satire is a bit more difficult than the broad brush of politics and America that Borat painted with, but even the scenes that focus on the fashion industry and the entertainment industry, specifically the part with the parents practically willing to whore out their children for the promise of fame, are so sharp and hit so frequently that the film can hardly be faulted for the occasional lulls found in the lesser skits or the underdeveloped plot. Even a seemingly weak skit, the one involving the incredibly intelligent Dr. Ron Paul, that forces so much needless shock for 'plot purposes,' the pay off is a well timed Ru Paul joke, is bearable because of the way Paul seems to be completely willing to spread his message until Baron Cohen pushes too hard.

Honestly, I did not think that I responded this positively to the film, but the more I think back the less I remember the bad things and the more the good parts actually stand out. I mean the Paula Abdul scene where she talks about her compassion for her fellow man as she sits on a 'chair' made of a Mexican laborer, it's not only funny at the visual level, but the idea behind the whole situation is pretty stunning. The film is far from flawless, even at a technical level, but Cohen really gets a lot correct here, like the scene at the Alabama National Guard. Factor in the use of traditional comedy, and the song at the end that likely has Baron Cohen, as well as myself, pissed that the Best Song category at the Oscars is apparently getting the shaft because it really seems like it can be up for consideration.

Perhaps the greatest testament to Cohen's success is found in each individual theatre. Like Borat, Brüno is a film that demands to be seen with a group in a theatre because the comedy on screen is not the only part of interest, how everyone responds to the situations on screen can be just as telling of what Cohen seems to probe with the film. We are all participants in his experiment, just like what Spike Lee does with a film like Bamboozled. The man does not ask us to laugh, he asks us to ask why we laugh. Sasha Baron Cohen cements his genius with the film and solidifies his role as a great social experimenter of modern times. Stanford gave us the Prison Experiment, Milgram challenged the notion of blind obedience, and Cohen as given America both Borat and Brüno. Are either films the most flawless of films? Certainly not, but I believe there is little denying each film's importance.

B[/B+?] or 3.48238476238156327856381975619

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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Raise The Trumpet, Sound The Drum

The Hurt Locker (Bigelow, 2009)

Apparently the latest film from director Kathryn Bigelow has been called the best Iraq War movie ever made. Considering that it is the only film dealing with the Iraq War that I have watched forces me to be inclined to agree with this statement. However, as an action film and a war film, two other genres that I am none too fond of, the film succeeds as a staple of each genre and is certainly one of the best war films and one of the best action films that I have yet to see in my limited exposure to each genre. The Hurt Locker is a breath of fresh air in what has been, once again, a lackluster summer blockbuster season. Even with good films like Public Enemies, there are glaring flaws that are a detriment to the film. In most cases The Hurt Locker avoids these flaws and makes for a compelling ride from start to finish. Though I appear to be getting ahead of myself, it seems more beneficial to delve a bit deeper into the film before calling it one of the year's must see films.

For all intents and purposes The Hurt Locker is an Iraq War movie, and in many senses it is very topical to the fallout of the conflict in Iraq. Instead of taking place during any battles the film focuses on the final 45 days of a company's tour to apparently keep the peace and maintain liberty, or victory, it's never made very clear. Despite being applicable to the Iraq War, the film is structured in such a manner that the conflict is really an after thought. Sure the title metaphor would not work in other historical contexts, this bomb safety suit and the lengthy use it gets appears to be a more modern occurrence, but the interaction of characters and the focus on inner conflict and other psychological strains are, I imagine, applicable to taking part in any high stress conflict. Amidst all the bomb disarming, detonations, and gun fights, Bigelow attempts to get into the collective military mentality rather than simply present a conflict for conflict's sake. While not every attempt she makes succeeds to its fullest potential, Bigelow's work here can best be likened to the sniper in the desert battle sequence: never very far off of the mark.

The film has a number of set pieces to build the tension, all of which work spectacularly, I found myself during each suspenseful sequence completely engrossed in what was going on and at times completely wrapped up in the film's world. I do not find myself this engaged at the best of times in most films, so the ability of The Hurt Locker to pull me in as quickly as it did and as often is certainly an aspect worth noting. Of course the majority of this is likely a result of Bigelow's direction and the manner in which she uses the camera. She switches from a standard and very well disciplined hand to a more documentary and free approach on the fly, kicking up and leaving out the grain as each situation demands. However, the visual aspect that stood out most about the film is, without a doubt, the cinematography. I find it with little surprise that Bigelow was, at one point, a painter. Whether it is a man's outline paired against a raging fire, a cat limping through the street, or a bird's eye view of the disarming crew from the top of an Iraqi building, the film mimics a canvas incredibly frequently during the film's over two hour run time.

Speaking of that limping cat, the one problem that I did have with the film was that it seemed to set up all these allusions, we get cigarettes as the focus of two shots and felines as the focus of two more, but none make recurring appearances enough to provide all that much substance. Even the sniping sequence, flies glide around a man, walking over him and into his eyes and mouth, making him no different than any other corpse, is only really used once. Though perhaps the film's decision to not commit to these images is to its strength as The Hurt Locker is such a success because it never takes a side in the Iraq conflict, it just documents. The good is placed along side the bad, fun sequences followed by gruesome ones, and the loyalty of each man to the war is constantly fluctuating instead of remaining constant in generic Hollywood style. There very well may be a political agenda here, but if that agenda exists it is so deeply buried beneath all of the psychology and characters that it might as well not exist at all. In no way do political motivations add or detract from the film though, reinforces the idea that the Iraq setting is not as important to the film as it seems.

I have spent all this time without talking about the acting, all of which is pretty damn top notch. The performance that stands out the most is delivered courtesy of Jeremy Renner in the role of William James. He plays the role with such an intensity and charm that it is hard not to become, at least at points, a supporter of how he handles each situation. However, his brash attitude is also cause for concern and Renner sells this perfectly. It's a really impressive performance and adds a ton to the film. Of course each supporting role is pretty damn impressive as well and the way that humor is handled in the film, always blended in nicely and rarely forced or unbelievable, is particularly impressive. The film is well balanced, action and humor work with psychology and the war perfectly. The film is damn impressive.

The film really grabs hold and does not let go through the entirety of the run. Bigelow has crafted an impressive film that does not only capture the Iraq mentality, but attempts to capture the military mentality. Now I do not have the personal experience to know how well she has succeeded in doing so with the film, but Bigelow certainly provides enough to chew on to provide an idea of this life to the common viewer. Hitting all the ups and downs with a masterful grace, Bigelow brings audiences into the suit, into the Iraq conflict, and captures this intensity magnificently. An unrivaled adrenaline rush, The Hurt Locker is an action film and a war film for the ages.

A or 4.7267187342146293781456239

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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What I Read Between The Lines: Your Lies

Rashomon (Kurosawa, 1950)

It has taken me needlessly long to get started with Akria Kurosawa's films. Finally, the Filmspotting marathon that Adam and Matty are doing on the podcast has allowed me the chance to really start watching films from a man who is considered to be a master filmmaker. I'm going to skip all of the historical background and things of that nature, not that I would likely be able to offer much insight in the way of correctly placing him in his time period or alongside his contemporaries anyhow, in order to focus on my reaction to my first venture into Kurosawa's robust library of films.

Rashomon has a pretty interesting structure, following a recurring narrative that offers four different occurrences of the same event as a man is put on trial. However, these narrations are narrated by two men at a temple, so really we are hearing a story of a story, and if you take into account the fact that the film is apparently based on another story it adds another fun little layer into the mix. As for the style, it is used much to the film's benefit. Paired with meandering shots through a dreamlike, or perhaps nightmare would be more fitting, forest, the viewer is made to be swept away with each narrative as the idea of fact versus fallacy is constantly in one's mind, but hardly ever able to be discerned in any tangible fashion. Really all we know is what is shown at the Rashomon temple and that the one man is dead, everything else is open to interpretation.

Of course even the way the audience is asked to be engaged and how any individual viewer should interpret the scenario is enhanced by having a faceless inquisitor prod each of the characters to make direct appeals to the camera. The technique is really brilliant and is sure to never give away any details that may place more fact in the hands of a viewer. In a sense, the character that is being told the story by the axeman and the priest is placed in the same situation as a viewer and, towards the end, begins piecing things together on his own as any viewer of the film likely would as well. The film's construction is pretty damn masterful and thought provoking all the way up to a mostly beautiful finale.

Now I have talked all about the construction and have yet to mention the direction and the cinematography. Both are beautifully in the purest sense of the word, Kurosawa's control of the camera paired with Miyagawa's beautifully constructed scenes makes for an experience that is phenomenally striking purely from a visual level, but also one that allows the film to exist almost silently. The dialogue at points is minimal, but none of the tension is ever lost nor does the narrative ever slow down. Dialogue becomes an equal with the images, breaking the barrier between story and painting and doing it wonderfully.

Of course the film's ability to work even in elongated silent sequences, especially when most of the film is so concerned with narrating stories, is also largely thanks to the actors involved. All of the actors give spectacular performances and nothing less than a solid performance can be found. However, mixed in with a slew of really good performances, two particular ones stand out as incredibly impressive. Toshiro Mifune turns in a wonderfully maniacal effort as the bandit Tajomaru, categorized by a signature cackle that embodies the best and the worst of the human experience, while Machiko Kyo is phenomenal as Masako Kanazawa, the wife of the murdered man. Both show an impressive range and turn in riveting performances in their respective roles, but the one scene that really sold it for me is how both act in the axe man's tale. Both interact with each other wonderfully without Mifune or Kyo losing anything to the other.

I have very few gripes with the film. The picture is perfectly paced and sustains its running time nicely, clocking in around 88 minutes. The one part that struck me as odd, though not really a flaw in the film I would say, was the conclusion. I did question the priest's reaction at a pivotal point, and his change actions seemed a little forced, though they worked nicely with what Kurosawa was trying to do, which is the trade off when using characters as representations, as the case appears in the final scene. I am also still wrestling with the film's concluding message, I believe it is rather obvious and if that is true then I suppose I have a bit of a personal problem with what the film is saying rather than a technical problem. To have things end how they do after a wonderfully human and pretty nihilistic speech is delivered seems to undercut what just occurred rather than provide a juxtaposition. Still, I am aware that this problem is purely personal and not a flaw of the film.

Ultimately, I found my first experience with Kurosawa particularly impressive and I cannot wait to delve deeper into the man's body of work. Rashomon takes a seemingly simple tale, shoots it beautifully, tells a story, and then unloads a shotgun shell's worth of philosophy upon the viewer towards the end. The results are hardly painful though, the experience proves mentally stimulating and utterly flooring, capturing the mentality of a lone bowling pin in the ninth frame. I look forward to hearing Adam and Matty discuss the film on the podcast this week and am positive that this marathon is going to be spectacular.

A/A+ or 4.76827914623149236452397856

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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Come Along With Me, And Let's Head Out To Sea

Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea (Miyazaki, 2009)

Miyazaki is a director and an animator who I tend to have an off and on relationship with in regard to how much praise he has rightfully garnered over the years. Now I am not going to claim to be an expert on Miyazaki, I have seen about six of his films but have yet to see Mononoke or Nausicaä, but I do believe that I have a decent enough grasp on what I have seen to say he is a very talented animator and filmmaker, but certainly not one of the best currently making films. Much like Pixar, the love for Studio Ghibli, and more specifically Miyazaki himself, strikes me as irrational and far too over the top. Unlike his American counter part, Miyazaki does make, usually, decent to good films and not the mediocre product that Pixar pushes out, but it is not like Miyazaki is Satoshi Kon or anything.

Either way, I went into Ponyo with very little knowledge about the film but also cautiously optimistic that I was about to bear witness to something great. After about a minute or so of watching numerous aquatic creatures swim around an oceanic area, reminding me of Nemo a little bit I guess, I was pretty sure that I had become swept up in the world that Miyazaki was putting on display. The animation, despite appearing fairly mundane on the surface, is absolutely stunning when in motion and the way that Miyazaki handles the water and the aquatic life in the film is nearly unrivaled in terms of technical quality. Top to bottom the film is mostly gorgeous, though I was never too much on the animation of Sosuke, but the way Ponyo is handled makes up for that complaint. Not surprisingly, when the world becomes surreal everything is turned up a notch and the film transforms into something beautiful. Combined with all the details that are put in the world the film certainly succeeds an animated picture in many ways that American films have simply lost over the years as CGI became common place.

All of the voice acting is really good and the person playing Ponyo brought such a sense of wonder to the character that the character became instantly believable. However, the two surprising performances come from Lisa, Sosuke's mother, and Fujimoto. Lisa is such a well developed character, having all the traits of a loving mother mixed in with a fiery rage that makes each time she is on screen an absolute delight. Her relationship with her son is handled nicely, but the strength is found in the way Miyazaki frames her as the family's anchor. On the other hand, Fujimoto is reserved enough to give off the slightly evil feeling without being laughably bad or overly soft. He's a pretty complex character who changes a decent amount during the story, but he never abandons all the qualities that make for a good villain. He's a menacing force, but Miyazaki also has more going on under the surface with him, and the voice actor portrays this beautifully.


Speaking of beautiful things in the film, of which there are several, the action scenes are a thrilling ride that far surpass any action set pieces throughout the year thus far. There is one chase sequence that proves to be incredibly riveting while also being touching at the same time, and all without abandoning any of the tension that such a scene demands. The way the shots are all framed during this sequence help enhance the film as well, keeping the action squarely focused on the screen and never letting thing mesh together or losing the audience during the film's faster parts. Of course all the slower parts are shot masterfully too, and the film does showcase Miyazaki's prowess as a director. Visually the film is stunning, but not simply due to the animation, the technical craft on display in Ponyo is top quality film making no matter how things are sliced.

I must now take time to pause from my gushing and begin wrapping things up with the complaints I have about the film. For a film that deals with such a cataclysmic event, I shall not spoil what said event is, the film lacks a distinct sense of dread. Perhaps the reason for this is to better highlight the relationship between Ponyo and Sosuke, but if that is the case then there had to be a better way of getting the two of them to the script's end without tossing in some underdeveloped conflict that really ups the films stakes incredibly.

On top of that, there are a few parts that seem to drag. Sure they are pretty to look at, but they never feel like they are driving toward anything, just nice little breaks in the plot that are needed to be there because advancing from point A to point B with a cut would leave things far too short. The film works spectacularly in building relationships and when all of the film's themes are fleshed out completely, but the narrative just feels tacked on and I do think that the film would have been a good deal stronger if it had not rushed the plot and just expanded its run time by twenty minutes.

Still, my time with Ponyo was incredibly enjoyable and I would call it my third favorite Miyazaki film behind Totoro at the two spot and Porco Rosso on top. Actually, I was not incredibly surprised to find out after watching that others had made the same connection that I did: the film feels a lot like My Neighbor Totoro. While I could go into a few of the major similarities between the films, I feel that I have done a good job keeping this review just about spoiler free and drawing specific comparisons would begin to give away too many plot elements. Probably best to just wrap things up.

Miyazaki is a master when it comes to expressing and idea on film and Ponyo is no exception. He handles all of the themes with the care of the best novelist; however, Miyazaki overlooks simple narrative decisions that ultimately hold the film back from being a masterpiece. Ponyo is, for me, tier two Miyazaki, sitting side by side with Howl's Moving Castle in an area that is a step below masterworks like Totoro and Porco, but a noticeable cut above a film like Spirited Away. I look forward to seeing this on the big screen when it hits American cinemas, plus it will be interesting to see how all the big name voice actors (Damon, Blanchett, Neeson, and Fey) approach the characters and if they are able to bring the same level of skill that the original voice actors posses. Plus I am interested to see how newcomers, and siblings of some very talented people, Frankie Jonas and Noah Cyrus do in the roles of Sosuke and Ponyo respectively.

B+/A- or 4.28918243702814723105471

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.

To Share On Our Journey With All Of Mankind

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (Algar, Geronimi, Kinney, 1949)

Thus far, the theme of this marathon for me can be summed up in one word: discovery. Whether discovering great new films like Melody Time or Song of the South, rediscovering and being able to notice what is so great about Bambi, or discovering that I was never off the mark to begin with, ala Fantasia, I can say with confidence that I have discovered a good amount by revisiting the Disney Animation Stuido's compendium. So it is only fitting that this next film is one that basically allows for all types of discovery.

I have come across a film that, for all intents and purposes, should be very close to my heart. When I went to Walt Disney World as a child my favorite ride was always Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Then it was shut down and my spirit was crushed like Smarty Jones's hopes at a triple crown after losing the final race. Despite loving the ride, I had never watched The Wind in the Willows short that gave rise to this attraction. On the other side, I had, and likely still do have, a VHS copy of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and I watched it about once a week as a younger child. Still, it has been years since I have watched that short film and I like to think that my tastes have refined a bit since then.

Oddly, after spending some time with the film, and taking a day or so to reflect on what exactly I had just watched, I found that my expectation, that I would be able to confidently say that Ichabod makes for the better segment, is mostly wrong. So that brings me to The Wind and the Willows. Starting off like a simple story, which splendid narration to boot, once the introductions are finished and we get straight into the characters actually being characters the film picks up considerably. The animation is really nice and a number of the shots are absolutely brilliant, but the strength comes in the voice acting. Comedy hits just about every time it is used and the performances from each actor make for some really entertaining dialogue.

Along with the dialogue, the music is really integrated into the story pretty well and is a nice precursor to the more modern Disney musicals and less like the classics. The action sequences are pretty thrilling as well and then there is the whole commentary on the justice system that is juxtaposed beautifully with the comedic world. It's a really carefully constructed film that is a blast to watch and I can certainly see myself revisiting this one in the future to see not only how well it holds up to repeat viewings, but to also see what other subtleties I may have missed. Not to mention that the characters are just fun.

Jumping from fun, or as fun as a bunch of weasels getting drunk can be, to the more macabre, we hop across the pond for a bit of American fiction. Much like The Wind in the Willows, the narration here is pretty fantastic and, I would contest, is what saves the film from being pretty bad on numerous occasions. The character animation, aside from Crane, is pretty standard, and the scenes leading up to the party are all downright ugly, it's like Disney forgot how to draw. The music is good throughout, but that's mostly Crosby's doing as it really never really separates from the story telling quality into the film story that The Wind in the Willows employs, and the story is a personal favorite so I cannot complain there, but I would have liked it more if the film had actually broken the narrative aspect and simply introduced the characters and started developing them a bit, like the characters in the Mr. Toad tale.

Unlike in the Mr. Toad story, here I felt like I would be just as well off reading the Sleepy Hollow tale. Up until the party and chase sequence though the film is simply passably watchable and proves to be the lowest point of the film as a whole. However, the party until the film's end is absolutely brilliant and because the story is so short it makes it worth watching.


Ultimately, this film is nothing more than a standard package film without too much depth, aside from the commentary in the Mr. Toad story and the animation toward the end that makes for a truly diabolical Sleepy Hollow tale. I could see myself listening to Crosby's songs on my downtime, but I can see that with a ton of Disney films, so despite him having a really good voice and helping to make what could otherwise be a dull film watchable until it picks up I do not think that is enough for me to say that the Ichabod Crane adventure is anything special. Actually, as a whole I do not think that the film is anything special and, taking it as a package film, Disney could hardly end on a higher note than Melody Time, but for an enjoyable watch that is a tad above pretty good, this film succeeds.

I should also state that, unlike Fun and Fancy Free, the pacing here is brilliant and neither segment overstays nor under stays its welcome. Sadly, this also means we lose out on those hysterical puppets, but at the expense of a better film, so I guess it all works out. I suppose that's it for the package films. My floors are dirty...bring on Cinderella!

C/C+ or 3.2723786978156217956231

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad achieves a 7.9 out of 17, with 0 being Fantasia, 8 being my recollection of another specific film in this marathon that will be revealed when it has been watched, and 17 representing how great Hercules is based on my most recent watching, which was likely over the summer, or winter break.

Currently in the marathon the rankings go as...

1. Bambi - (16.3/17)
2. Song of the South (16.3/17)
3. Dumbo - (14.9/17)
4. Pinocchio - (13.3/17)
5. Melody Time - (10.5/17)
6. Make Mine Music - (8.2/17)
7. The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad - (7.9/17)
8. Saludos Amigos - (7.7/17)
9. The Three Caballeros - (6.66/17)
10. Fun and Fancy Free - (5.5/17)
11. Snow White - (2.5/17)
12. Fantasia - (0/17)

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.