Road to Perdition

With films such as American Beauty, Away We Go, and Revolutionary Road, Sam Mendes is obviously a master filmmaker, one of my favorites. Maybe I was a bit biased as I watched Road to Perdition (2002) for the first time; but I like to think I was actually more scrutinizing, since I already expected a high level of quality. With that said, Road to Perdition is a beautifully-shot, unwavering film. It doesn't purport to be anything more than a prohibition period crime thriller, but it is a really good one. Of course, there are supplementary themes and conditions that are touched on, such as photography, family, moral relativity, but you don't need to consider them to just sit back and enjoy the movie. The photography is stunning, the acting on point, the story engrossing, and the direction calculated, and controlled.

The film boasts A-listers like Tom Hanks, Daniel Craig (pre-James Bond), and Jude Law; newer talent such as Jennifer Jason Leigh, and brand-new talent like Tyler Hoechlin; but also, some classic old-timmers such as Paul Newman. Solid. Jude Law's scrawny, hunched-over, bowler adorned photographer/ mercenary character is haunting. His slow relentless pursuit is only shown a few times, but it is so effective that you feel his presence the length of the film. Tom Hanks masterfully says more with a glance, and even his walk, than he could in a hundred words.

Conrad L. Hail's cinematography is brilliant and Mendes' mise-en-scene contains all of the finest elements of a neo-film noir. A long woolen trench partially conceals a shotgun traversing the daytime street; an unhurried figure wielding a tommy gun hides under a soaked fedora; a suspicious leather brief case is pulled from the shadows; two beaming headlights approach in the distance down the one-way dirt road. These images are just a taste of what the film has to offer visually. Although, the total elements come together to present a noir atmosphere, the masterful acting and story don't allow for a work that is overly melodramatic. The presentation is rather cold, than just cool, and very convincing. See it.

A Brighter Summer Day

Brace yourself. In 1949, heavy fighting on mainland China came to an end. When the dust had settled the Chinese Communist Party had control of the mainland. The Kuomintang and all those who didn't wish to be under a communist regime fled to Taiwan. The "Great Leap Forward" and the subsequent "Cultural Revolution" ensued in Red China.

Taiwan, which had been struggling with Japanese rule for decades, now had the new challenge of dealing with mainland Chinese refugees; understandably, these refugees had difficulties assimilating into the island. As, A Brighter Summer Day, begins we read the following intertitles:

"Millions of Mainland Chinese fled to Taiwan with the National Government after its civil war defeat by the Chinese Communists in 1949. Their children were brought up in an uneasy atmosphere created by the parents' own uncertainty about the future. Many formed street gangs to search for identity and to strengthen their sense of security."

The film, a nearly four hour-long faux-biopic, is incredibly ambitious. The subject matter (a fourteen-year-old murder case), the one hundred or so amateur actors (many of them youth), the movie length, the near disregard for cinematic conventions, is all astounding coming from any experienced director. But, Edward Yang was only on his forth feature film: it remains one of the seminal films to have come out of the Taiwanese New Wave.

It is not a conventionally entertaining movie; it is actually difficult to watch. There are long moments where the film seems to drag, with the same painful mundanity at which life can crawl. Equally, there are moments filled with profound feeling, pure beauty, innocence, humor, strife... honestly, the whole gambit of what can be experienced in ghetto family life.

The photographic eye of Yang is remarkable, but his audacious efforts to extend our gaze on something we might tend to overlook is very effective. At the same time, a lot is expected of the viewer to fill in narrative gaps (which may seem surprising considering the film lasts four hours). The understated sequence of events, the subtly mounting tension, and complex, rich plot all build up only to come crashing down like a wave against the rocks, leaving reflective silence in its place.

There is no way to do Yang's masterpiece justice on a blog, so I won't even try. Its sufficient to say that the ending murder scene and subsequent unpacking scene contain the very essence of film. There is great, real tragedy here, but there are undertones and applicable lessons to withdraw, as well. With so many parallel difficulties in western ghettos the world over, there is much to conjecture about in regards to education policy, discipline, youth sexuality, community life, violence, etc. Further issues about personal morals, relative ethics, cultural heritage, cultural surrogacy, and family life abound.

One of the more tangible sentiments of the film is the knowledge that life survives tragedy. Let me explain: tragedy is unavoidable, we try each day to shore ourselves up, protect our children, educate ourselves, control our little world. Yet, we all live with the knowledge that we are only delaying inevitable and unforeseeable circumstances (the father of S'hi epitomizes this concept in the story). A resigned and fatalistic feeling, yes; but, life does go on. If we are the ones lucky enough to endure living, there is much to live for, and much to be done.

The Confucian Confusion

I don't speak Chinese, so I was left to follow this urban satire in subtitles. I'm sure I would have found the film more humorous if I could have grasped all the nuances that are inevitably lost in subtitles.

A Confucian Confusion is a loud and discordant satire. The hysteria runs a two-day course in which alliances shift, couples break up and the author of the rejected novel, "A Confucian Confusion," has a lame epiphany that makes him decide to rejoin the commercial world that he had recently abandoned.

The film takes place in a newer, more affluent Taiwan, and follows a circle of friends and family. There are many moments when relevant debates about commercial art, pure/ high art, and the status quo are presented. The movie's very title, A Confucian Confusion, refers to a novel written by one of the characters. Its story is about Confucius, who is reincarnated as a popular media personality. To his resentment, the ancient Chinese thinker discovers he is admired not for who he is but for being such a wonderful phony--big slap in the face to consumer pop-culture. The conclusion: affluence, as desirable as it may be, brings its own woes, not the least of which is a spiritual vacuum.

Edward Yang Retrospective

Tonight, I was able to attend the opening of the first ever Edward Yang Retrospective. In attendance was Serge Toubiana, Jean Michel Frodon (author of "Le cinéma d'Edward Yang"), some Taiwanese dignitaries, and Yang's widow, Kai-Li Peng. Each had a few words to say about the late director and the retrospective before two films were subsequently screened, The Winds (a short, uncompleted animation), and The Terrorizer (Kai-Li Peng's favorite).

The Terrorizer (1986) is stripped down to nothing: decor is sparse, people are few, advertisements are not to be seen, there is no music score. The term 'minimalism' is a generalization that is so lightly tossed around these days that its hard to tell what one means by it. In the case of, The Terrorizer, every element that is presented serves a purpose: there is nothing supplementary or extra. The fat is completely shaved off the cut, as is even evidenced by the infrequent dialogue. Emptiness envelops you as you are drawn into the intertwining stories of several groups of people, whose names are barely ever really mentioned, and apparently, aren't all that important.
The film begins with a single police car, sirens blaring, as it traverses Taipei circa 1986 to a homicide scene. A bullet-ridden body lays face down in the street. Only a stray dog and an amateur photographer dare to stare at a distance, let alone approach the corpse. It is this Taipei that acts as the backdrop for these people's lives--a place where the law-enforcement is seasoned, but always a step behind. A place that is home to many callused, and listless souls. Although, the story is told from Taiwan, the themes its presents are universal to the human struggle: life purpose, loyalty, and love. The film is tragic no matter how you cut it, but there are intentional elements of hope to be found.
Yang, a great admirer of the Italian Neorealist movement, clearly wanted to represent life as it was, as he saw it. His world view shines through vividly: there is so much that is ugly, tragic, and unfair to be found in life. These things can all give us the fuel to become terrorizers, but we retain the capacity to choose, whether or not, to walk that dark path--no matter our lot in life.
The film manages to bring up several subtexts regarding the art of photography without losing focus on the overall narrative. The camera, as on object, is fetishized; photography, as an art, is romanticized; photography, as a process, is displayed. There is even a brief scene that studies the photographer's eye as we watch pedestrians from a distance on a bridge, as if through the lens of a photo journalist. For a film that puts so much emphasis on the medium, it should be well shot; The Terrorizer is a masterpiece. A painful, but beautiful picture of modern urban life, and humanity is painted here.



In a larger sense, it seems that Yang is also trying to advocate the power of the arts; the photographer and the novelist in the story, use their respective crafts, as a means to cope with and learn from their daily struggles. Their work is presented as a powerful tool for communication, as well. As the film progresses, a number of the characters are presented as presumably being the terrorizer: one could even make the case of the city itself. Yet, a few critical choices change the entire course of the story. The director is reaching out and prodding, saying, "life is miserable, but we can chose a higher path, and make it, or leave it a better place."

Greenberg

I had a hard time with Greenberg. The whole movie just made me tense, uncomfortable really. Of course, there were some hilarious moments, but they didn't have so much of a comic relief effect as in Baumbach's previous films, such as The Squid and the Whale. I feel that the answer to my little dilemma is that Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) hits too close home. He feels like he is part of my family, or worse, part of me.

Initially, its easy to point out that he is a selfish, socially-awkward, jerk. Yet, our impulse to push this guy away is just as strong as it is to reach out to him. That uneasiness--that tension between resisting and accepting--is the essence of Greenberg. If anything, we just want to understand the man that that is so hurt, he can't help but lash out and hurt others around him.
Maybe, it is because Roger is dead-on with some of his social commentary that we can't simply banish him. For example, who doesn't complaint about Airline service, or obnoxious people at restaurants.

Our complaint about Roger is that he just can't let it slide. He has to address every wrong that be-fronts him. So, he writes out, and then types letters to companies he finds issue with; but, he also insults and puts people down, right to their face. Some of his behavior is constructive, some of it pointless, some of it mean, and some of it insane. This degree of criticism and could render someone crazy, and thats what it did to Roger (he was briefly institutionalized) just previous to him coming out to California to house-sit for his brother.
The biggest problem with Greenberg is that his behavior is destroying meaningful relationships all around him. He doesn't allow others to have flaws, although he himself has many. It is more important to call someone out, indeed brutally, than to let one slide in order to maintain relationships with people he really cares about. He can't stop alienating others or sabotaging himself.

The conclusion was masterfully thought-out and well-done for someone on only his fifth film. The films abrupt ending is a reflection of the sudden change in Roger himself: he is done with such relentless, harmful, open criticism. Greenberg is about halting, in order to move ahead. Maybe there's no one epiphany, or apparent break-through for Roger Greenberg, but its clear at the film's ending that there's no going back. Isn't that how life usually is? It looks like even the most neurotic and intolerable amongst us can change.

les Berkman se séparent

Apparently, I'm on a Jesse Eisenberg kick right now (the last three days I've spent watching something with him in it). One could be on a worse kick, I suppose. I've been meaning to watch Noah Baumbach's renowned film for quite sometime, and I'm glad today was the day. To keep it short, the film moved me; it was drôle and removed, but when it needed to bite, it sunk its teeth in. I wish the French title at least tried to be somewhat more creative; Les Berkman se séparent is just plain weak compared to The Squid and the Whale.
As I watched, I couldn't help but notice the fingerprints of producer, Wes Anderson (the only film to date that he has produced besides his own), all over the place. Granted, many of The Squid and the Whale's similarities to Anderson's work may be chance, they can't all be. The two had just previously colaborated in The Life Aquatic, as writers. Clearly, the two shared a similar vision at around this time in their filmmaking careers.


The family dynamics are fascinating; as the movie begins, Bernard (Jeff Daniels) is instantly like-able. He is furry-faced, intelligent, even-tempered, and after all, the family didn't break up due to him: it was Joan (Laura Linney) who was having affairs for last few years. Slowly and subtly, the film reveals an uglier, cheaper, controlling, and more selfish-side of Bernard (nobody would want to be married to this insecure, sad, washed-up academic). Walt (Eisenberg) is quick to side with his father; Frank (Owen Kline) is quick to side with his mother. We see that coming from the opening scenes of the family playing tennis together, when Frank states, "Mom and me versus you and Dad." Indeed, that is the dynamic of the first half of the movie.

The Squid and the Whale doesn't wind up being about blame, or who is right and wrong, it is rather a revelation that guilt, disappointment, depression, even self-destruction are inevitably part of the backwash of divorce. Those unfortunate realities automatically seep into the often underrated, and latently complicated lives of the children involved. At the same time, the film offers redemption in its most painful moments; its very title is the thing that changes the course of the narrative from doomed, to forgiving. For example, Walt falls for a fellow classmate, the cute, bookish Sophie (Halley Feiffer). He clearly likes her a lot, but ultimately sabotages the relationship in an attempt to follow the poor advice of his would-be-casonova-of-a-father. Walt painfully pushes her away and denies her intimacy, and we are helpless to watch him so ignorantly try to keep his dad's approval.
As Bernard is being taken into an ambulance after a near heart-attack, his pathetic olive branch/ backhand (whatever it is, its homage to Godard's classic, À bout de souffle ) to his ex-wife is enduring. We see for another brief moment that the two deeply care for each other, even if they can't make it work together. Another essential moment takes place soon after as Bernard lies in his hospital bed. His loyal son, Walt (whom had recently been growing somewhat resentful of his apparently flawed father), comes to him to offer his support. To be brief, they end up treating each other a bit roughly at such a fragile time; Walt cries a little, and Bernard tenderly, finally shows his son some true affection by taking his hand. Anyone thinking this movie comes across as too remote, and lacking in feeling, has but to re-watch these scenes. In the end, we know that everyone is going to turn out alright. Sure, there will be more outbursts and embarrassments to deal with, but they have learned that they can still get through it all, whether they are all living together, or not.

Bernard Berkman

Bernard: You married?
Ivan: Nope.
Bernard: The whole thing's very complicated.

The American

I saw this movie a few months back with my parents and I find myself revisiting it in my mind. I'm too removed from my initial viewing of it to write anything too significant, but I am impressed to note a few things.
After watching a few of those misleading trailers one is left thinking they are in for another "wanna be" Jason Bourne movie, or that Clooney wants to play James Bond! I should of had more faith in Clooney (co-producer & star) and Anton Corbijn. I was expecting nothing original, and probably something mainstream action-wise.
My expectations were greatly exceeded. If the purpose of those god-awful trailers was to draw in the action crowd in order to force them to appreciate slow-paced, yet riveting cinema, then mission accomplished. It is as if one of the great Italian neorealist directors remade a Bourne movie. The film is all what one would want from Corbijn, whose only other big screen production is the critically acclaimed Control. Seriously, the most misleading trailers, ever.

The Social Network

The Social Network, is a dazzling exploration of programmer and business mogul Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), and his small entourage back at the roots of the now multi-billion dollar network, Facebook. The film unravels at lightning pace as it alternately flashes between the birth of Facebook and the ensuing lawsuits that took place against Zuckerberg. The film, an adaptation of the novel, "The Accidental Billionaires," is based on true events, but has clearly been sensationalized to suit director, David Fincher's own means. Although, Zuckerberg seems to be upset by the apparent discrepancies, I feel they played an essential role in transmitting a cohesive film with both a solid surface-level narrative as well as more latent subtexts (such as an exploration of modern-day genius and basic humanity).
Zuckerberg is the film's key character, and unlikely anti-hero. He is a socially inept computer geek, through and through. A large portion of this film's mastery comes from Aaron Sorkin's writing, coupled with Fincher's vision. These leads to a delivery that actually mirrors the social behavior of younger Mark Zuckerberg, himself: both he, and the movie are fast-paced, audacious, impatient, and unforgiving. The dizzying dialogue is rendered, hip, fresh, and equally lucid as it is as times convoluted. The effect is that the viewer is sort of in tow, following the story from behind, not quite able to catch up, but able to keep up.

The mise-en-scene is impressive--it displays great attention to detail, from Mark's Gap hoodies and socks with sandals, to poorly decorated frat parties. Even the undecorated, newly littered, start-up house in California is spot-on for a bunch of computer nerds moving into their first office/ barracks. The lighting, generally dark and shadowy, is largely representative the kind of life a college computer geek leads. Such lives in a poorly lit dorm, in front of machines, sleeps the days away and stays up online all night.
For a bunch of relatively unknowns, the acting was incredible. The two antagonistic, twin jocks (both played by Armie Hammer) are humorously presented as witty, gentlemen; for whom, we tend to feel sorry for as they are outplayed by Zuckerberg (we don't feel too sorry for them as the film ends with them receiving millions of dollars in settlement money). Eisenberg truly shines as a capable big screen actor, as does Garfield. For those frightened of being turned off by Timberlake's recent cross genre move from pop music to the silver screen, don't worry. He is actually a good comedic contribution and successfully fulfills his role as a slimly, but uncanny internet business prodigy (besides, he's too funny and self-effacing SNL to dislike him).

Yes, the movie is about friendship, popularity, and power; and the conclusions one can draw from that are strong, in and of themselves. Yet, something greater and more subtle is accomplished in this film: it reduces even pure genius' down to their most basic human characteristics. The film is bookended with Mark's abrupt rupture with a girl he loves (opening scene), and with him ironically attempting to 'add her as a friend' on the very network he created. The suggests that these scenes with his ex bring up are fairly potent. Even a socially-awkward jerk, whose only concerns seem to be his own personal successes, needs love and recognition.
One should go further talk about Zuckerberg's jealousy as displayed between him and his "best friend," Eduardo (Andrew Garfield); in addition, its important to note that the only person who is treated as his equal, in any way, is Napster creator, Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake). When all is considered, it is easy to see why the real Mark Zuckerberg isn't pleased with how he is represented. By shedding light on these aspects, it is not so much that he is being painted as a pathetic, loser, though. On the contrary, he is still shown to be a modern genius, and the fact is, we all need validation. love, and acceptance from somebody. We are social creatures, even the most bizarre of us.

Waiting for Guffman (1996) Libby Mae Brown

"I been workin’ here at the D.Q. for about, um… eight months? Seven? I don’t know, somethin’ like that, it’s fun. Just do the cones… make sundaes, make Blizzards, ‘n… put stuff on ‘em, ‘n… see a lot of people come in, a lot of people come to the D.Q… burgers… ice cream… anything, you know? Cokes… just drive in and get a Coke, if you’re thirsty."

Frances McDormand as Marge

As much as I love the performances of, William H. Macy and Steve Buscemi, in the Coen Brothers' much celebrated, Fargo (1996), there is one performance that did far more than intrigue me or make me laugh--if you don't see where I'm going with this just look up at the title.

Marge Gunderson is your typical, small-town, satirical police chief: she likes buffets, fast-food, and small talk. She is also a text book example of the old adage: never judge a book by its cover. The chief also has uncanny intuition, guts, and a keen intellect... she's also seven months pregnant.

McDormand truly achieves something remarkable with this character, something that the other actors don't, she brings about a duality of comedy and poignant humanity. The latter is much more difficult to pull off, and in conjunction with the first is nearly impossible--let me explain.

In order to truly reach the viewers, your target as an actor, you have to be completely convincing; facial cues, timing, body language, intonation, accent, and aura begin to scratch the surface of what such a performance entails. Faltering in any department may result in an untimely and/or a trite performance. Measuring the success of an actor's performance is difficult; when one attempts to evaluate an actor categorically it just doesn't work. Not to mention, it is unnecessary, since, we humans have a built in instantaneous reaction to such things.

The point is, Frances McDormand nailed her role as Marge. Very few performances have had a similar effect of endearingly making me laugh, and making me tear up with feeling. The effect is much like that of ginger (humor) clearing your palate for more sushi (something substantial).

The opening scenes, that involve Marge, reveal a young, woman, police chief that is so bland and dopey it hurts; but at the same time, we perceive a sharp individual who knows what she is doing. Marge is so casual about her investigation into this triple homicide case that it is hard tell if she even cares at all. She seems to put just as much thought into eating (the pointed editing and writing of the Coen's help underline this point). This is a little woman that has her little icy world figured out, right down to her inane, midwestern expressions.

One of the more comical scenes in the movie takes place in the Radisson Hotel Restaurant, where Marge is meeting up with an old friend that recently reconnected with her. We watch as the old friend talks about his "dead wife," and then makes a humiliating pass at pregnant Marge. The scene is funny, which gets your guard down, but is is also reveals a more human, and less conventionally human-side of Marge. We also learn that Marge has strong integrity and loyalty. Significantly, Marge ends up surprised to find out that this old friend is really just a lying creep.

Marge nervously draws her handgun as she follows the sound of a gurgling wood chipper through the trees. Her intuition has led her to the murderer, who is caught red-handed. The criminal flees into the white open field (mirroring his own murder just nights before), the pregnant woman fires a couple times before striking the suspect in the leg, taking him down.

Moralizing at the end, as her voice slightly cracks:

"So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper. And those three people in Brainerd. And for what? For a little bit of money. There's more to life than a little money, you know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it."

The last few scenes epitomize McDormand's performance as a beautiful blend of hilarity and humanity. The film ends with Marge praising her husband for having his painting of a duck selected as the official image of the three-cent stamp. She, a legitimate heroine of a huge homicide investigation, selfishly appropriates the focus to her husband's accomplishments. We are left wanting to laugh at how ridiculous the situation is, but we just can't. Is she for real? How should we react? Flawless.