LuckyGraveyardBoots Reviews

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

a compelling portrait of human evil

[10/10 · 9 May 2006]

Wow. Just wow. The most deeply frightening movie I have ever seen. The plot revolves around Clarice Starling, an FBI trainee, who, to track down serial killer "Buffalo Bill" (who kidnaps and skins women) must talk to another captured killer and psychopath, Hannibal "the Cannibal" Lecter. Her relationship with Hannibal evolves into something slightly sado-masochistic, and becomes a twisted version of the father-daughter dynamic - Clarice has issues with her father, and with guilt. Deep consideration of what constitutes "higher" and "lower" forms of being in a human, what exactly is psychopathic and what exactly is evil, and all forms of destructive being are taken into account, symbolized by the death's-head moth. The character Hannibal is extremely intriguing and multi-dimensional, especially compared with Buffalo Bill...while the latter knows that what he's doing can get him in trouble, he still doesn't perceive himself as psychopathic, but Hannibal does. He continues to do what he's doing when possible, to acknowledge it, to even use it to his advantage with the weapon of fear, and all the while functioning on a higher, very intellectual and thoughtful level. His morbid curiosity in Clarice's past runs parallel to the desire to consume another human being. By the way, did you know that there is a species of moth that lives on nothing but tears?

The Conversation (1974)

amazing...just amazing

[9/10 · 9 May 2006]

Everybody says this is a key movie of the '70's, but to me it seems somewhat ahead of its time. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola right after The Godfather Part 1, it paves the way for the likes of M. Night Shyamaylan...I would seriously not be surprised if M. Night grew up on this movie. It reminds me of Taxi Driver too, in a way, in its tone of communicating the state of being on the fringe of society (complete with jazz too...how about that). Gene Hackman plays a professional wiretapper who is paid by a mysterious figure to record a conversation between a man and a woman, knowing nothing about them. When he starts to put the pieces together he finds he has knotted issues about involvement with the people. This movie deals directly with the morality of voyeurism, individualism and involvement. We know nothing about the main character, but in a dream scene we catch a glimpse of the demons of his childhood and his inclination to death. There is also a sideways glance at the closet skeletons of his professional career. A motel scene close to the end becomes outright surrealistic, and an unexpected twist at the end combined with his search for a bug that is never found, leaves him alone with his saxophone, playing a solo melody for the first time. Beautifully artistic direction by Coppola. My main problem with this movie is Gene Hackman...his character is full of possibility, an exercise in loneliness, but the man screwed it up, because he is a third-rate actor.

The King of Comedy (1982)

a rare peek into the sadness of comedy

[10/10 · 9 May 2006]

Don't be fooled by the title, first off. Often compared to Taxi Driver, this 'black comedy' (on closer inspection not a comedy by any means) is one of the more genuinely sad films I've seen. Rupert Pupkin, played by Robert De Niro, is a wannabe comedian stuck in a dead end communications job. He desperately wishes he were Jerry Langford, his idol and a comedy show host. He manages to meet Langford, but when he is brushed off he devises a more drastic and immediate way to get his routine on the Jerry Langford show. It's very much like Taxi Driver in a lot of ways - Rupert and Travis Bickle share ultimate loneliness, although Rupert tries to cover his up with laughs, while Travis builds his existence around it. They both unsuccessfully attempt to make connections with the outside world, which fail because they really are living in a dream world (Rupert more literally than Travis). While Travis turns his terrible pain into violence against himself and strangers, Rupert tries to turn his into laughter. This is most notable in his actual routine that he does - it's full of jokes, but they only serve as a shabby cover for an ocean of sadness. I guess the most glaring similarity are the very ends of both movies, which would give too much away to tell.

Girl, Interrupted (1999)

powerful story about healing

[8/10 · 9 May 2006]

This was actually much better than I expected it to be. Scratch Winona and I'd have given it a 10/10. Since, sadly, she's there and she can't act, it's not a classic in my opinion. Based on the book, "Girl, Interrupted", it is the chronicle of Susanna Kaysen's stay in a mental hospital in the late '60's. The issue deep down is healing - how do we heal? How do we get attached to our own illness? How do we change our own view of ourself? Susanna first needs to realize she's sick, to face up to her suicide attempt as not simply 'trying to get rid of a headache', and then she can heal. Lisa (portrayed by the ever-gorgeous Angelina Jolie) is another inmate at the hospital, who identifies with her mental illness and holds onto it, believing it makes her better than normal people. She's the voice of negativity and stasis, oddly seductive. She introduces herself as a sociopath, but by the end, she says, in what is possibly the most memorable line, "I'm not really dead inside." Lisa's story is, in my opinion, more powerful and tragic than Susanna's, and Jolie is definitely the better actress. I completely changed my opinion of her. All in all, it's about escaping yourself, or your own negative side that blocks the path to the remedy. The most important image is close to the end, when Susanna and Lisa are in the basement - Susanna's leaving the next day, and Lisa is tormenting her for submitting to the outside world. Lisa following Susanna through the dark, underground corridors screaming, as Susanna tries desperately to find a way out, is a troubling metaphor for the battle between the dual natures of our own egos. The Frank Sinatra song "Downtown" at the end was really sad, for some reason, and it really makes you understand, if you're depressed, that not all happy people are shallow. People that have gone through bad times and come out the other end whole are the strongest of all.

Blue Velvet (1986)

genuinely disturbing...eerily resonates with audience

[9/10 · 9 May 2006]

Usually when I see a movie that is 'universally hailed as the most controversial film of the decade' they end up having been widely misinterpreted - such as The Silence of the Lambs, which wasn't 'sick' like everybody said, but merely portrayed the hypnotic effect of a consuming nature of evil, by drawing the viewer into it too. But Blue Velvet was the only film I've seen to date that shocked me far more than I thought it would. It's hard to say exactly what it was, but it did such a grotesquely fine job of carving out sickness from beneath an idyllic front that it couldn't help but be disturbing. It's also partly because David Lynch is a genius - some of the camera angles alone are enough to give you nightmares. Jeffrey is a young guy visiting his hometown when his father has a stroke. He finds a human ear in a field, and when he tries to find out more about it independently, he's drawn farther and farther into the world of sado-masochistic violence via Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini in a troubling role) and her tormentor, until he uncovers some unsavory findings about his own soul. Dennis Hopper - from Easy Rider - gives an absolutely disgusting performance as Frank. I mean, really, really disgusting. This from a person who thought Hannibal Lecter was kind of cool - trust me on this. All in all, the satirical film-making and saturated color, together with Rossellini's and Hopper's performances, make it really disturbing. By uncovering the hypocrisy in the idyllic front of a small town, the film uncovers the hypocrisy within everyone's soul. Because, no matter how repulsive some of it is, aren't we, against our own wills, irresistibly drawn to some of this perversion? We'd like to say we're all perfect, that it holds no attraction, but the fact is it does, no matter what we try to do about it. Is it really better to attempt to cover it up? Or is it better to surrender entirely to the dark forces within our natures, and thus release ourselves? And can we ever be one thing, or are we essentially divided? These are only some of the issues approached - it's a great film, but I wouldn't want to watch it again.

Mean Streets (1973)

hard-hitting Scorcese

[9/10 · 9 May 2006]

The first film Robert De Niro made with Martin Scorcese, and also Scorcese's first independent project. Made with a stunningly low budget, it's the hard-hitting realization of a young director's dream to send out his message. The very first line of the movie is said by Charlie, a small-time hood with aspirations of saintliness: "You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets. You do it at home. The rest is bullshit and you know it." This is the theme for the rest of the movie. Charlie's own redemption in Little Italy starts with Johnny Boy, his slightly insane friend who he believes is his cross to bear. Throughout the movie he keeps looking out for Johnny Boy (played by De Niro) while tension gradually builds towards the shocking ending. Johnny Boy and Charlie have an interesting relationship--while Charlie is always restrained and controlled, even to a neurotic degree (he practices holding his hand over a flame to remind himself of the horrors of Hell) Johnny Boy has nothing really wrong with him apart from the fact that he sincerely doesn't give a damn about what happens to him. Johnny's intro to the movie is him throwing a bomb into a mailbox and running away...you can predict what the rest of it is like. Ultimately heartbreaking, this study of love and responsibility on the mean streets of New York is a key examination of what adulthood means, ultimately, and how actions affect other people around us.

Fargo (1996)

lightweight tragicomedy, but good fun

[7/10 · 9 May 2006]

I had a great time watching this movie. I haven't laughed like that in front of the TV for ages. But...once it was over, it was over. In my opinion, it's really over-hyped - it's the story of Jeff (William H. Macy) who is in deep financial trouble...so he pays some small-time crooks (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife for part of a ransom he will extract from his wife's rich father. When the deed is done and the crooks are hauling Mrs. Jeff to their hideout, a cop stops them for not having the right tab on their car, and is shot. Uh-oh, two innocent bystanders noticed! Boom-boom, dead too. About four or five other people have gone to Jesus by the end, and the movie centers around Marge (Frances McDormand), the Fargo police chief trying to track down the killers. Her performance was actually pretty good as a sensitive woman who is intentionally oblivious, refusing to let the horrible things she must witness seep in and bring her down. Since Steve Buscemi is here too, you can predict the tone of the comedy, which is very dryly hilarious - the point of the movie is to contrast tragedy with comedy for a haunting and bittersweet ending. An interesting idea, but the tragedy wasn't tragic enough, it was disaffected in an odd way. Normally gruesome scenes are trivialized in a way that I don't like. It would have been very powerful had you just felt a bit more for the characters. As was, it was slightly off-kilter and I felt it left you with nothing. Great fun, however.

Requiem for a Dream (2000)

art film at its finest

[8/10 · 9 May 2006]

Unfortunately the only thing I'd heard previously about this film was that Jared Leto's eyes are dreamy, so I put off renting it for a bit. I have no idea how it got to be the success that it is - it's basically an art-house film with cutting-edge interpretive camera work and grueling to watch besides. The only big problem I saw was, why on earth is Jared Leto's character addicted to heroin? His girlfriend Marion is a jaded, little-girl-whore type, his best friend has mother issues, and his own mother, Sara Goldfarb (played by Ellen Burstyn) has probably the most convincing and affecting drug addiction ever - a lonely, old widow who gets a phone call saying she'll be on TV and consequently becomes addicted to diet pills. The uppers make her irrationally happy, and she keeps going on nothing more than a dream of recapturing her old self, her family, and her happiness. Ellen Burstyn is amazing (you may remember her from The Exorcist) and I have that much more respect for her when I found out she was the co-president of The Actor's Studio after Lee Strasberg died - along with Harvey Keitel and...and...Al Pacino! Returning to the topic - the camera work is the main thing here. In some parts it gives the impression of being on tranquillizers, diet pills, crack, what have you - also despair - and in the last scene, with cuts in between extremely traumatic experiences for each of the main characters, it literally gives you a headache, but you still can't look away. In that way, and also in its extremely sympathetic approach to drug addiction, it's fearless in a way you don't see much anymore. I shall end with the conclusion that Jennifer Connely is an execrable actress, and that Requiem for a Dream is a must-see.

Apocalypse Now (1979)

quite possibly the best and most important film in history

[10/10 · 9 May 2006]

Even with all the cinema dealing with the trauma of the Vietnam War (Jacob's Ladder, The Deer Hunter, Apocalypse Now, and Taxi Driver to an extent) one feels that we don't even know the half of what happened. Even contemplating the horror feels inhuman. And a progression - or retreat? - to the inhumanity that it necessitates is a key part of Apocalypse Now, Coppola's greatest and one of the most important films ever made. Loosely based on Joseph Conrad's 1902 classic, "Heart of Darkness" which chronicles the loss of sanity and corruption of morality that comes with distance from civilization - a surfacing of a bestial nature, as it were, a la Lord of the Flies - it brings the story of a physical and psychological journey to Vietnam. The story is of Willard, a general commissioned on a special mission to Cambodia after his first tour of duty in Vietnam is served. Willard at the beginning of the film is stuck in Saigon, psychologically unable to go back home - eerily echoing Nicky in The Deer Hunter. So he is contacted: his mission is to assassinate a renegade Green Beret who has isolated himself in a remote outpost on the Nung River, and who has purportedly gone completely insane - worshiped like a god by the natives, and killing indiscriminately. This man's name is Colonel Kurtz, played by Marlon Brando in the second best role of his career (the best being Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire). As Willard journeys upriver in an army boat with some soldiers accompanying, his witnessing the horrors and the insanity - and the overwhelming pointlessness of it all - leads to an eerie sympathy and identification with Kurtz before they even meet. By the time they do, Kurtz's methods don't really seem as wrong or as they should, and they certainly don't seem too unusual or out-of-place. Apocalypse - a place beyond morality, the outpost on the end of the world. The loss of civilization, the loss of judgement, of self. Kurtz's monologue about an atrocity he witnessed as a Green Beret, and his later revelation, is one of the most chilling and well-delivered speeches in cinema history. The film is about trauma, about the human spirit and its breaking point - here, it's a lot like The Deer Hunter, and just as good. Apocalypse, however, takes the boundaries of what we can endure to a global level - Coppola's sweeping footage of the humid, murky jungles of Cambodia and an opening sequence of helicopters amid exploding forests and an orange sky - set to an oddly fitting Doors soundtrack - as well as chilling scenes on the river and of an air raid on a village with Wagner blasting from speakers (a scene which has gone down as one of the most chilling, darkly humorous, and strikingly pointless war scenes ever) - this all contributes to the sense of Apocalypse - the end of the world - and not at some distant point in the future, but Apocalypse Now and forever. The Deer Hunter is much more up close and personal, you can even tell by the title, and shows the totalling effect trauma has on the individual psyche, the breaking down of the human soul, and its ability to either surrender completely to forces of darkness, or to limp on. This is why both films are equal - they are two parts of the same thing. In "Heart of Darkness", Kurtz is shown as conflicted between morality (civilization) and his inner savage. In Apocalypse Now, Kurtz has left all conflict behind. He is beyond good and evil. He has let go of morality like a drowning man lets go of a saving hand in the moments before his death. Kurtz indeed is only waiting for death, quoting T. S. Eliot in his temple to himself, lost in the jungle. His last words, and the words echoed at the end of the movie, are, "The horror...the horror." He is referring to the infinite void of existence, of the human psyche, and to the pitch black emptiness within his own mind, where atrocities are born again. It is impossible to express in words the experience one goes through watching this film - the experience, in short, that Willard experiences on his journey. The end part, at the outpost, almost in fact comparable to its brother scene in The Deer Hunter, is one of the most deeply, calmly, and seductively disturbing things I've ever seen.

The Matrix (1999)

kicks ass

[9/10 · 9 May 2006]

This was really really good, and well-done...in my opinion, a very important film for this generation. The Wachowski brothers' talent for packaging philosophy in a way that's accessible to the average Joe, really comes through in this stylish movie. The story of computer hacker Neo's realization that his world - the Matrix - is nonexistent and his subsequent filling of his role as the man who will set everybody free is loosely based on "Siddhartha" and Buddhist ideas pop up every now and then. It still is, however, primarily an action film - the symbolism of the Matrix is still comfortably at one remove from reality and thus the film is not as naked or troubling as, for example, My Dinner With Andre. The action sequences are never clichéd and sometimes funny (in a good way!) It's clearly a movie with an agenda - to get people to think - and I thought it accomplished this objective extremely well. Even though it's all symbolic, some parts (I'm thinking of Smith's early interrogation of Neo) are still very disturbing. I can't really think of anything to make this film better, except that the characters so far have been rather flat for the most part (Smith least of all, and Neo the most, although I'll refrain from bitching about Keanu Reeves' acting). I'm told Smith gets more interesting in the two sequels, but giving Neo a bit of a backstory and character would have helped this film immensely. It's still very good though, since the plot isn't very character-driven and thus can survive on its own. All in all, it was surprisingly addictive in a very kickass way.

Minnie and Moskowitz (1971)

cassavetes' worst

[5/10 · 9 May 2006]

This is considered by most Cassavetites to be one of his more lightweight films, for several good reasons - it was also made earlier on in his career, but it's got some hints at themes that would define C's later style. That said, it's a very self-defeating romantic comedy, which was fun to watch in that it was interesting, but it left me feeling emptier than other, better films by that director. It starts out with the introduction of Moskowitz, a lonely semi-insane parking lot attendant - the kind of guy you immediately like because he's not pretentious or put on in any way, but that you quickly get sick of because he's not that interesting. Then it goes to Minnie - a lonely, guarded, single museum guide who's having an affair with a guy who's married (played by C himself) and who, when put to the test, ultimately puts his family over her. This makes Minnie so depressed she consents to a blind date that turns out to be disastrous and in the chaos that ensues finally meets Moskowitz (in the parking lot). This reminded me a bit of Frankie and Johnny, vaguely, in that they both consist of a plot revolving around boy-meets-girl, boy-stalks-girl, girl-eventually-lets-down-shield-caused-by-emotional-trauma, and they get married or something. Frankie and Johnny, while not overall a very well-made movie, hit on some truths such as you need protection in love, you need to heal your wounds and not try to cover them up, there is such a thing as a kindred spirit - whereas Minnie and Moscowitz seemed to end up at the point where both the characters simply let go - of everything that defined their personality or individuality. They helped each other to not care, and in some ways, by the end with their marriage, it seemed like they were just waiting to die. It's an interesting movie to be sure, but it was very flawed - it could have been great as an all-out mockery of the romantic comedy, but as was it just fell on its face like a girl who tries to dance but is too shy.

Shadows (1958)

"improvisation" at its best

[8/10 · 9 May 2006]

It ends with the declaration that "the film you have just seen was an improvisation"-at once making you feel like an idiot for thinking an improvisation was an good movie, and astounded at Cassavetes' genius...once again. Of course, Cassavetes told some guy it wasn't really an improvisation per se, on his deathbed, so...it's the story about a light-skinned black woman, Lelia, who passes for white, and her family: another passing-for-white brother named Ben, and a black-black brother named Hughie. When she falls in love with a white jerk named Tony, he is unpleasantly surprised when he finds out she's black, and from there it goes on about the three main characters' individual aspirations and shortcomings. Hughie is a jazz singer in the process of becoming a failure, Lelia's still hopelessly depressed over Tony, and Ben is angsty and violent in general, in desperate need of something to shock him out of his stale patterns of existence. Overall, I suppose it's really about stasis vs. change in human life. I suspect that Cassavetes had the plot organized enough, and it was just the dialogue that was improvised. The dialogue itself is very uneven - sometimes somebody will say something very memorable, other times it's memorably awkward. What's amazing is the extent of the amateur actors' embodiment of their characters. Cassavetes went through the acting class he was teaching at the time he decided to do Shadows, whispered in the ears of the ten best students, and this was the result...the guys playing Ben and Hughie are very good. At first I didn't like Lelia, but as the film progressed you see more and more she's one of those actors who gets better as the tension and drama builds - not necessarily the best with small talk. Shadows is hailed by many as the forerunner of the indie film movement (made in 1959) and it's definitely recommended.

The Butterfly Effect (2004)

ashton kutcher = eww

[5/10 · 9 May 2006]

This was an OK movie overall. Basically elaborating on the idea that the flutter of the wings of a butterfly can cause a tsunami halfway across the world, it's in interesting study of how certain events encountered as early on as childhood can affect everything that happens to us afterward. Evan, the main character, discovers he has the strange power to look back at his old journals and go back in time to alter things that happened. Bent on preventing the suicide of one of his friends and the decline of another, he goes back to certain horrific and formative childhood events to change them, but every time different people get hurt in different ways. It goes on and on until the bittersweet ending...and I thought the concept and execution of the plot was marvelous. I've often thought, like if I hadn't done this thing years ago, how would things be different? It gives you chance to see how this might work out. It was also very well-made...not amazing direction, but what might otherwise be a long, mechanical latter part didn't drag at all. Now for the cons: I refuse to acknowledge Ashton Kutcher as an actor, first off. This isn't so bad...Winona Ryder isn't an actor either, she plays herself as Ashton does, but at least she gets the right emotion half of the time and pulls off lines naturally. Ashton is Abominable. He deserves death by firing squad. The rest of the acting was OK, nothing particularly stood out...but overall, it seemed in retrospect very calculated to have a particular effect on the audience. This is probably not a definite bad thing for most, but for me, I hate having my emotions manipulated. Movies that I tend to hail as great - The Deer Hunter, Apocalypse Now - cannot be contracted into one emotion or one interpretation, or a thousand. And some others, such as Taxi Driver and Dog Day Afternoon, simply defy intellectual judgement altogether. I felt the The Butterfly Effect was plotted, calculated in much the same way as The Devil's Advocate, or 187 - good movies in and of themselves, but ones that leave no room to breathe.

Casino (1995)

not the worst, not the best

[7/10 · 9 May 2006]

Ehh. Everybody compares this movie to Goodfellas (which was one of the most horrendous movies I've seen that wasn't outright 'bad') but in truth it was much better. It was much worse than what Scorcese is capable of at the top of his game, however, which makes it watchable. Dancing around the theme of redemption, like so many Scorcese films, it tells of Ace Rothstein (Robert De Niro), a crook trying to redeem himself and go straight, and who ends up running a fancy casino. Awesome, right? Wrong. He falls in love with a hooker (Ginger), marries her, and then his best friend Nicky Santoro (Joe Pesci, playing a trigger-happy psycho for once!) comes and wants his share of what Vegas has to offer. Except Nicky's not even trying to go straight. Ginger ends up an abusive, cheating junkie bitch on wheels, and Nicky, by virtue of his relations with Ace, ends up messing Ace's life up in a big way. A main theme in this movie is trust - Ace begins with saying there can be no love without trust, and by the end it turns out Ace shouldn't have trusted anybody. Robert De Niro gave a pretty good performance - nothing compared, of course, to Taxi Driver, The Deer Hunter, or The King of Comedy - but he is from head to toe a fundamentally good guy with his head on right, who in fact tends to live too much in his head until he crashes for Ginger. He recovers quickly enough, though, and although he isn't perfect, we want him to win. One of the interesting points of the performance is that even though Ace is so logical and tough, when he gets hurt it's unbearable. Joe Pesci was OK, nothing compared to his performance in Raging Bull of course, and while I'm tempted to say Sharon Stone was awful she wasn't that bad. In my opinion Scorcese was a lot better before all the expensive sets and frou-frou camera-work. It just gets in the way of his message. I guess ultimately it's about how your life adds up at the end of the day, and how you can escape your past. It's got a very Catholic tone to it with respect to absolution - it seems to convey the thought that if you're just sorry enough for your sins, everything will work out.

The Big Lebowski (1998)

THE best comedy I've seen in my life

[10/10 · 9 May 2006]

AWESOME. Seriously, this was one of the funniest movies I've ever seen. I have no idea what it's about, but I liked it. I kind of detected a 'circle of life' thing...in the world of L.A. slackers, everything works out, man, don't worry. Donnie dies, little Lebowski is born. Thus it continues. But you don't watch this for the message. It's got an excuse for a plot, at least: Big Lebowski's wife owes money to crooks and is kidnapped. 'The Dude' Lebowski is mistaken for the millionaire by the same name and his carpet is pi$$ed upon in a misunderstanding. Seeking compensation for the rug (which really tied the room together) he ends up commissioned to deal with the crooks. Introduce a trio of Nihilists (with marmot), a half-crazed feminist painter (Julianne Moore), a porno film industry and a gay pedophile who's extremely competitive about bowling (John Turturro) and you've got it...the ultimate stoned slacker comedy. Jeff Bridges is far out as The Dude, and hilariously understated, while John Goodman is his psychotically violent 'Nam vet best friend, who carries a piece to a bowling alley, and John Turturro is forever etched into my memory as Jesus Quintana (spoken to Walter: "You got a date for Wednesday, baby! Whoo!" Walter: "...He's cracking.") Steve Buscemi was adorably pathetic as Donnie, the third wheel. One of the best quotes: Donnie: Are these the Nazis, Walter? Walter: No, Donnie, these men are Nihilists. There's nothing to be afraid of. It was very memorable, with excellent characters which is basically all that made it worth watching...the Coen's signature style doesn't come through here like it does in Fargo, and it's not overly artistic (well...in parts maybe) but it's so funny! Excellent, excellent. Especially The Dude's stoned dreams (which feature Saddam Hussein renting out bowling shoes).

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976)

amazing Cassavetes, once again

[9/10 · 9 May 2006]

I worship Cassavetes. While Coppola does mood and message, DePalma spectacle and effect, and Scorcese place and psychology, Cassavetes is all about the character, and nowhere do you see that more than in Killing. Cosmo Vitelli, strip club owner, is deep in debt and in danger of losing his beloved club. So to even things out with the Mob, he must bump off an important bookie, who happens to be Chinese. The plot isn't too intriguing, but Cosmo is. One of the most understated of Cassavetes' main characters (compared with the more involving Myrtle Gordon, Mabel Longhetti, and of course Gloria) Cosmo is a guy who's gone through life treating his emotions as secondary. They've rusted in the closet from being aired so little, and the Cosmo we meet at the beginning is selfish, sardonic, and closed off. When he kills the bookie (can you believe it!? the bookie dies!) he is horrified at what he's done and awkwardly handles being horrified in itself. By the very end he's still quiet, introspective and closed, but we get the feeling he's taken a look at his life and how he goes through it, and he's less than satisfied. It's some of the most subtle character development I've seen, and Ben Gazzara does a fantastic job as Cosmo. One of the signatures of Cassavetes' films is that they reach the climax, and then go on about another hour before ending. It's like life - things happen, but it doesn't stop there...life keeps trundling along, and we're expected to deal with what happens and keep up with the rest of the world. Some real-world surrealism qua 'artistic' strip club shows round everything off perfectly. Watching Cassavetes makes you a little nervous, because you know that if the lead actor is off, everything's going to be horrible. Thank God, the man really knows how to pick actors.

My Own Private Idaho (1991)

poetic and beautiful, if a bit too avant-garde

[7/10 · 9 May 2006]

In a very un-epic way, this movie really gets to the heart of the loneliness at the center of our being. Somebody described it as "tender but never sentimental" which I think describes it perfectly. It tells the story of two teenage hustlers at a specific period in their lives. Mike (River Phoenix) is somewhat of an enigma. He is dreamy, gentle, and in love with his best friend. He is also, unfortunately, a narcoleptic, and is obsessed with finding his long-lost mother. Scott (Keanu Reeves) is his best friend, who is a rich boy and only prostitutes himself as a way to be rebellious and humiliate his father. A plot is somewhat secondary, since the movie is about the inner lives of its two main characters (given Reeves' acting talent, more like one main character) but there are a few points I will mention...an older homeless guy named Bob is also in love with Scott, although it's more of a father/son thing. In the scenes with Bob, Shakespearian dialogue straight out of Henry IV is used - and unfortunately, the story has the same turnout: Scott (Henry) comes into his fortune and reforms himself, refusing to associate with any of his old friends, and ultimately breaking Bob's (Falstaff's) heart in two, and he dies. Kenneth Branaugh pulled Henry off pretty well, in part because Henry's motives are unselfish (good of the country) whereas Scott is only concerned with money and himself. When Scott and Mike go to Italy to try and find Mike's mom, she's long gone, but Scott falls in love with an Italian girl ("Sorry Mike!") and abandons his friend to a life of prostitution, completely alone. By the end of the movie, Scott is in a three-piece suit and Mike is fast asleep in the middle of a road in Idaho. The film does a great job portraying the unending loneliness in our souls that we attempt to break up by human relationships that never end up meaning anything. Every man is an island. It also conveys a sense of there only being the past - the future never seems to enter Mike's consciousness. Overall wonderful, although uneven and slow in parts. River Phoenix is not a great actor, but he was much better than I expected him to be. He seems like he's from another planet, but he's so sweet all the time and never seems to have any hatred in him - not even when Scott deserts him. He does a great job portraying the painful plight of the gay best friend...and the guy who played Bob was also pretty good. Not Keanu, though. Scott is supposed to undergo pretty radical character development, but Reeves just goes on AutoKeanu which really isn't too exciting to watch, all considered.

V for Vendetta (2005)

Vis-a-Vis V for Vendetta

[7/10 · 9 May 2006]

Americans always seem to need something in times of crisis, and a lot of the time we turn to movies to provide whatever may be lacking in our lives. Often a form of escapism, with Hollywood releases in recent years (War of the Worlds and Cinderella Man, to name a few examples, along with many other superhero movies including the upcoming Superman) film provides what we are missing in this country: a distinct hero. Somebody unquestionably righteous, around whom we can all rally without second-guessing ourselves. The last time political circumstances were so befuddling, in the post-Vietnam era in the mid-to-late seventies, a revolution in cinema was underway and directors responded to audiences needs with the sympathetic anti-hero (for example, Travis Bickle of Taxi Driver, or Colonel Kurtz of Apocalypse Now)—an unsatisfactory and perplexing symbol of the general mindset during a time when everything was being questioned. Now, V for Vendetta seems like just what America needs. Revolving around the story of Evie, an outwardly normal girl in a futuristic London who is drawn into the rebel underground and her relationship with a mysterious rebel who identifies himself as V, it brings up a lot of coherent debates—such as, what exactly is a terrorist? Is a terrorist always evil—or is it a matter of opinion? By tying in V's mission to rouse the populace against a tyrannical system dominated by the religious right with the Guy Fawkes story (normally considered unsavory on all parts, Fawkes' motives are reconsidered), and by making the terrorist very sympathetic, in fact, and by stirring our pity for him, the poor mainstream viewers who just wanted to ogle Natalie Portman are thrust into the uncomfortable role of rooting for the terrorist. These days, anyone with a penchant for blowing up government buildings is regarded with something akin to suspicion, and I certainly applaud the Wachowski brothers for being able to pull it off. It's interesting to speculate on audiences reaction—but one thing is certain—nobody will walk out of this movie without having contemplated some of the issues presented. V, however, in my opinion, is not an actual terrorist, but a rebel with a cause. Terrorists, like those who caused 9/11, only want to instill terror into the populace—of a nation or a government they despise: sometimes their own, in the case of the Unabomber—in order to make a point. V, rather than sadistically tormenting the people, makes them his allies against the oppressive system. All in all, it's rather puzzling, but by the end we certainly feel that V was in the right. By giving us a hero qua semi-unstable megalomaniac who always remains a bit of an enigma (he never removes his Guy Fawkes mask), the film wavers throughout between giving us a hero and giving us an anti-hero. Maybe it's saying it's time to reconsider our previous beliefs and political affiliations, or maybe not. Maybe we should regain our country from the grip of Christian conservatives. Maybe we should blow up the Pentagon(?). You can never be quite sure. One thing is for certain—love prevails in all the twists and turns of the story—it's not, I can state with relief, simply a boring dissection of political issues. All in all, V for Vendetta was not a great film in and of itself. Although Hugo Weaving in the part of V did a commendable job acting throughout, given that you can never see his, none of the performances were particularly moving, and far from life-changing—you felt like they were characters in a movie, which is what they were. It had some memorable lines and astounding camera-work, but didn't provide too many original insights on its characters, or the human spirit, or life in general, nor should it: that's not the point. It's not legendary; it will, however, be remembered for the socio-political questions it raises, and the message it attempts to send out to its audience: "People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people."

A Clockwork Orange (1971)

ultra-violence sickens on both sides of the screen

[9/10 · 9 May 2006]

This film is a very heavy-handed dissection of morality and the many forms hypocrisy can take. It's very, very shocking even now, and even more so for its time (when it was nominated for a Best Picture many Hollywood heavyweights refused to even show for the ceremony), and Stanley Kubrick's stale, disgusting vision of the future still strikes a specific, hidden nerve. It tells the story of Alex, a juvenile delinquent who adores violence and rape of all kinds. When he is imprisoned for murder, he becomes a test subject for a new form of torture that is supposed to "reform" criminals of violent behaviours by associating images of violence, blood and rape with severe physical sickness. After two weeks, Alex emerges spineless and brainwashed, and considerably less menacing - a clockwork 'orange'; that is, orangutan - symbolic of his weak facade to try and fit into society once more. After this point, it's very hard to watch, because once Alex is released back in his tiny world, he learns there really is no forgiveness of any kind. What's funny throughout is that the violence of Alex and his companions pales in comparison to the violence exerted on them by the government and their world in general - for example, a regular bar is filled with horrifying pornographic images, wholly unnecessary measures and cruelty are used during the treatment...and perhaps most troubling of all is that Alex's former companions, upon his 'reform', have since become part of the police force. There really is no right or wrong. By the end we realize that what we thought was terrible at the beginning doesn't really mean anything. And what's scary is that the lonely world of A Clockwork Orange really isn't too different from our own. From a debate about whether the treatment is 'right' because it doesn't really change desires to harm, it progresses to a point where the actual reform of a human being seems impossible - there's no way how or why somebody would want to change. Even when the possibility of something other than 'an eye for an eye' is introduced, it turns out to be functionally impossible. Both the film-making and the acting are heavily stylized, cloying, and somewhat difficult to watch - all this works well with the intended effect of the film. Malcolm McDowell pulled off a difficult role reasonably well, but he's not too great. The rest of the characters stick in your head in a distinctly Fellini-esquire manner, which makes for a memorable storyline. The themes of regression vs. progression are toyed with in a way that really makes you think about the 'progress' we've supposedly gone through in the past century or so. One faintly amusing thing - I noticed the violence depicted here actually made me sick - exactly like Alex's treatment. Not accidental.

Easy Rider (1969)

One of the most intriguing and provocative I have seen

[10/10 · 9 May 2006]

You can look at it as important in either of two ways: either it's the key film of the '60's and the singularly elusive way to understanding that generation, or it's a searing look at just how, why, and where the American Dream finally died - in this way it stonedly resonates with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (set in 1971) even though F&L is more about how the American Dream got crippled, addicted to something vague, and kept limping around in the desert for no particular reason - than its actual death. Either way, you have to watch it at least once in your life. It's also famous for popularizing the song "Born to be Wild", motorcycles, and Jack Nicholson, so it's plenty of fun. It starts and ends very mysteriously, but it seems oddly seamless, in the same way that it's a timeless journey while being extremely 'dated', so to speak. Billy and Captain America (played by Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda, respectively) pop out of the landscape on their motorbikes, purportedly from L.A. although there is really no way of knowing who they are or where they're from. Bound for New Orleans in time for Mardi Gras, they ride all day through the heartland of the USA and camp out at night because nobody will let them stay in a hotel. After a surreal stay at a hippie commune in the middle of nowhere (complete with its own come-again Jesus) they continue, only to be arrested in a small Southern town for 'parading without a permit'. It is there that they meet George (Jack Nicholson), a rich man's son with a mind of his own who decides to come with them to New Orleans to a legendary whorehouse. The movie begins to all make sense during a scene with George by a campfire following the first of several nasty hillbilly encounters, in which George theorizes that the reason people like Billy and Captain America are ostracized by a comfortable middle class is that people are afraid of freedom...they can talk about it at length, but when it actually comes to a totally free person, not tied down by anything, people hate them because they know how trapped they are. True freedom is scary to them. By the tragic ending, we see that it's true. It seems like this film is one long easy ride towards the end - symbolized by death, a cemetery scene towards the finish, the hippies sowing nothing but sand on their fields. Even the characters seem mythological, looking back...George is the voice of reason, ultimately silenced by fear of the unknown. Billy, a wild, distrustful schizophrenic, is representative of all those outcast by society or deemed too irregular to exist by normal standards. And Captain America - brooding, thoughtful, restrained - seems very much like the Dream itself in its final days...forever contemplating where it's gone, and not giving much thought to where it's going next. All in all, it's key to understanding a lot of things. In that landscape, with everything stripped away (home, possessions, dialogue...everything but the spirit) anything could seem possible. And Easy Rider is one of those rare movies that don't give you much to go on. What you take away from it is entirely dependent on the thought you bring to it.

Traffic (2000)

Slightly inconsistent, but overall great movie

[8/10 · 21 February 2006]

Let's just start out by saying: I loved this movie. I recommended it to all my friends. I even wrote this review. It definitely did not get the attention it deserved. With a somewhat confusing ending and web-like plot, it was intellectually challenging on many levels--a very good thing in movies, but not too popular, as evidenced by the remake of The Manchurian Candidate and the recent flop Syriana. Basically, an upstanding San Diego businessman (Steven Bauer--whom some may recall from the 1983 Scarface) has been busted for drug smuggling. His shallow wife (Catherine Zeta-Jones) feels betrayed and in danger. Two cops (Don Cheadle and Luis Guzman) keep her on constant watch, while guarding a corrupt tuna fisherman/coke trafficker Ed Ruiz (Miguel Ferrer) who also happens to be the main testifier against Mr. Bauer. Meanwhile, back in Mexico, morally ambiguous vigilante cop Javier Rodriguez Rodriguez (Benicio Del Toro) and his sidekick Manolo execute odd jobs for Gen. Salazar (Tomas Milian) while simultaneously dealing with the fact that Salazar may not actually be as "anti-drug" as he says he is. Politician Bob Wakefield (Michael Douglas) must deal with the drug demons within his own home as he attempts to battle them in his career.

Overall, this movie is bittersweet. Some of the characters get revenge, others don't. Some conflicts are resolved, and some aren't. Mostly this movie is memorable for its portrayal of drugs and drug culture. When you ask most people what should be done with smack addicts, they aren't too concerned..."Oh, ship them off to rehab" "They're all corrupt, amoral excuses for human beings" but what happens when all that gets closer to home? This movie shows the bridges on the gap between the private and the public, especially with the Bob Wakefield storyline. The Catherine Zeta-Jones storyline seemed mainly concerned with one woman's incredible power to survive and pull herself together in the face of loss--and her discarding of any morals about drugs she may have previously had.

OK. Let's talk acting. Basically, watch this movie for Del Toro, if nothing else. Benicio Del Toro is a diamond in the rough--he never overacts, which perhaps lends some to believe he is flat--but everything he does is completely natural and unaffected. For instance, his somewhat stony demeanor is temporarily interrupted by a pure animal reaction when a colleague is killed. Michael Douglas's acting is OK (not great) but I can see him acting. Del Toro I cannot. The very idea of movie cameras surrounding him seems absurd. Another cool part is when Javier (straight for all purposes) pretends to be attracted to Clifton Collins Jr.'s character in a seedy San Diego gay bar so that he can be deceived and led into interrogation. His half-suppressed smirk (which Collins must have interpreted as flirtatiousness) had me convulsed in laughter. For more comic Del Toro goodness, see him as the infamous Dr. Gonzo in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas...an experience not to be missed.

Catherine Zeta-Jones is terrible, for reasons many and colorful. The inflection on her sentences is wrong, her facial expressions are wrong, her character development is wrong. She neither convinces us of her love for Steven Bauer, nor convinces us she is a ready and willing adulteress. And with the drug-dealing thing at the end, that was completely out of the blue. Truly horrible stuff.

I also disliked Michael Keaton's daughter. I'll give her one thing, she did "stoned" really well. So well, in fact, that she felt obliged to show it off for the whole movie, even when her character wasn't supposed to be stoned. I liked the idea of her character--so many great drug movies (such as Scarface, and Carlito's Way) do not have anybody receiving the brunt of drug abuse; it just shows the top lords and their glitzy lives. There is nothing romantic or operatic about her addiction. Yet why, exactly, is she addicted? I don't care that she's a popular prep, they can be depressed too, but she showed no reason or glimpse into Caroline's darker side...just a stoned prep.

Don Cheadle and Luis Guzman were...well, awesome. I loved them as a team. Luis Guzman just did "Luis Guzman" as always--comforting bordering on the vaguely irritating--but Cheadle was completely natural and played off Guzman very well--and was not, for all the comedy, 2 dimensional. His reaction at a tragedy involving Guzman is extremely sad.

I won't go into everyone here, but some minor performances I really liked were Topher Grace as Caroline's well-meaning yet weak dealer boyfriend, and especially Clifton Collins Jr. as the endearingly pathetic psychotic gay assassin Francisco "Frankie Flowers" Flores. Collins has a tendency to completely submerge himself in his role--for example, I was surprised to learn, after watching this movie, that Collins is not actually gay. For more Grade A acting, watch him as ambiguously psychotic gay serial killer Perry Smith in Capote. I thought Frankie was a character with a lot of potential to be interesting (especially in his dinner conversation with Salazar: "I've always liked stereos. Most people don't understand.") I was sad that he didn't have more lines.

The cinematography was again incredible. At times I thought it approached the annoyingly artsy, but symbolically it outlined the impenetrability of different cultures and economic classes, with a cold blue light shadowing the lives of the upper-crust politician and his family, a glimmering golden light showing off the easy lives of San Diego rich whites, and a mud-spattered, dirty-looking front for the story of the independent cop who makes $300 a month.

Overall, some of the acting could have used help, the screenplay was not very good (note quotability factor: nil) and some of Caroline's lines were just embarrassing--but some of the acting, directing, video editing, and cinematography were just too good to miss. And let's not forget how it shows up the drug issue...Conservatives, get ready to revise your opinions. A