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Aside from Paul Thomas Anderson, David Gordon Green is probably the other great young American Director; his "George Washington" found itself on several top ten lists years ago and his films "Undertow" and "All The Real Girls" rest comfortably in my DVD collection.  Now, after months of being delayed, his latest film "Snow Angels" is in theatres.  Let's begin.

I watched the film in a crowded auditorium, accompanied by some close friends who were not familiar with Green's work.  When the house lights came up at the film's closing credits, one of them said to me: "Great performances, but a real shitty plot.  You know everything that was going to happen from the outset."

His statement is accurate; the plot is nothing groundbreaking, nor are the actions done by certain characters at the film's end are entirely ironic or unpredictable.  Everything everybody does in the film is inflicted by either personal pain, or by personal redemption.  There are winners and losers, you could say.

But, I do believe my friend was incorrect in downplaying the film altogether.  This is the first, least-polarizing great movie of the year.  I still treasure "Funny Games" but at least here, there's no taunting of the audience before a character is killed.  And to respond to my friend's feelings toward the notion of plot, well, Green has never been much for spinning a yarn; rather he is interested in what goes on in each scene, with the motivations of characters' feelings or their unspoken back history.  Other Directors build and build to an exciting conclusion, that either pulls the rug from under you or just makes you cheer.  Green is more of an academic, savoring those missed moments in narrative fiction.  Think of a favorite scene in J.D. Salinger's The Catcher In The Rye, like Holden's examination of "bitches" sitting in a room waiting, and his scathing inner thoughts.  Green could probably shoot that scene in such a lyrical way, it would be empty of sarcastic laughs and full of bruising insight.  "Snow Angels" is that film; it's looking at small town individuals, who don't care about the last home high school football game, nor do they treasure their underwhelming jobs.  They just want geniune human connections, free of expectations and of past demons.  Green places you inside their homes, in the back kitchens of their waitressing job, in the bedrooms where they pray and in the motel room where they sleep with their friend's husband.

The lead role is played by the great Sam Rockwell ("Confessions of a Dangerous Mind"), and requires some raw power from its star.  As a born-again Christian, Rockwell sidesteps the usual nutso religious freak prototype (see Marcia Gay Harden in "The Mist"), and delivers a performance that is both heartbreaking and frightening.  Not in the way to make you gasp, but in the gut reactions it gets from you, by playing it straight-faced.  You may not agree with what Rockwell's character does at the end of the film, but you cannot think of an alternate path or chain of events that would stay faithful to his arc.  Nothing in these characters' actions can be labeled unnecessary.  They are natural.

Since the plot is not much for unraveling, I'll spare you the setup, in order to better appreciate the filmmaking.  I will however make you sit up and note some particular moments: there's the quiet kissings between two high school characters in a bedroom, that's sublime.  Notice Tim Orr's placement of the camera just over the shoulder and then away, while Rockwell speaks to a higher power in private.  Savor the bleakness of a detective's routine questioning; it's not glammed up to tone the likes of TV cop dramas.  In fact it reminded me of the investigation passages of Steven Soderbergh's masterful "Bubble."  People have these jobs, and everyday can't be acted out in glory. 

Of course, by now you might be frustrated with this Select Cinema entry.  You are no closer to knowing what the movie is about since you started reading.  That's okay.  After you watch it, I'll ask you to consider the title I chose for this entry.  Think about the parallels between the doomed, older ex-high school sweethearts, and the newly blossoming romance that unfolds.  Would you say Green is implying that these small town characters are ultimately Greek in their nature?  Are the teens in just as much peril of growing up, only to grow violently apart?  

Oh, and look.  A discussion has arose.  

It's what Green does.  He's not interested in Act I, II, and III.  He's interested in the passages.  He's interested in the beats between the spoken dialogue.  Green has confidence in his audience.  They can draw their own outlines and values. 

Okay.  Now go see it. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 01:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Yes, it is a bit of strong stretch to pair Ramin Bahrani's "Man Push Cart" with Werner Herzog's great "Stroszek" but the parallels that do exist are worth examining.  Though "Stroszek" takes place in Germany, New York and then hysterically in Wisconsin, it emits a gritty, scarily real sense of time and setting in each location.  "Man Push Cart" is set entirely in New York, (it's worthy to note that most of its cast speaks in Pakistani language) but it is buried deep within the steamy streets of the city, in the dark warehouses, and even in the vacant, desperate parking lot of a Toys R' Us.  "Cart's" protagonist, the endearing and quiet Ahmad (Ahmad Razvi) pulls and pushes his food and beverage cart through the graveyard hours of the city, toward usual corners and along dangerous traffic lanes.  While observing the quiet opening passages, I was reminded of Bruno S.--the protagonist of "Stroszek"--and his accordian music setup box that he pushed and dragged around the slum apartment complexes of Germany. Here we have in Ahmad, a reincarnation of Bruno's plight toward that elusive dream, albeit here an American dream (and it would eventually be both Bruno's aspiration and crushing demise).

To the audience, Ahmad is a young, apt and capable individual.  What is he doing pushing a cart, and selling coffee?  A lesser film would exploit this concept into some violin-ready tearjerker plot, where Ahmad might be trying to raise money to save some afterschool music program or to pay for his grandmother's emergency surgery.

But there's none of that here.  The story is very real: Ahmad's wife passed away a year earlier.  His in-laws find him incapable of raising his young son.  In the mid 90s, in Pakistan, he enjoyed mild success as a rock singer.  Now he finds himself bumming beer off of strangers and selling cheap porn DVDs to other immigrant workers.  The precise storylines connecting him from point A to point now, could make for an entire other feature, but Director Bahrani is more concerned with studying this man, who is essentially lost at sea.  When we see Ahmad's blank expression while sitting with friends at a karaoke lounge, it is easy to see that Ahmad isn't so much concerned with how he got to where he is, but more importantly, he is trying to figure a way to get out of his situation.  There is the prospect of love but that is soon deserted--much like Bruno's seperation with Eva.  "Cart" is a gem in that it holds a passive view on its subject.  Usually, with 'real life' genre dramas, there's more of a visceral, if not judgemental aesthetic approach to the material.  Here, however, Bahrani miraculously handles Ahmad's story with such a delicate touch, it's as tender as Ahmad's nurturing of his infant kitten.

So when problems arise, even on a small scale, we are riveted.  The life and ardor of Ahmad becomes so materialized and immersed in reality, that there's this fresh, urgent drive fueling the narrative.  It's unfolding at its own will, not that of a formulaic screenplay.

For me, as an avid filmgoer, I really saw Ahmad lost in this sea of New York movie life.  When his cart is thought to be stolen, I was convinced that Brad Renfro and friends stole it, like they did in "Sleepers."  In an earlier scene, when Ahmad trips on the side of traffic while pulling his cart and dodges an angry taxicab, I was certain Travis Bickle ("Taxi Driver") was behind the wheel honking the horn. 

And by the last scene, in that faraway shot, of Ahmad accepting (at least what I think) his misguided dreams, I saw Bruno, sitting next to his frozen turkey, riding the circular ski slope seats, in hopes of being taken away.

But maybe you'll think differently. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 03:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Oh man.  "Dumb and Dumber," probably one of the most cherished comedies of all time, has reached such an elusive cult status of screwball genius, that each time I watch it, I find myself picking and choosing different scenes for why I consider it great.  Yeah, yeah, I'll get emails spewing me out for saying an ultimately flawed comedy is 'great,' but this mid-90s gem is something of a miracle.

The scene: Harry (Jeff Daniels) and Lloyd (Jim Carrey) are at a roadside diner enjoying some afternoon burgers.  Lloyd's "Hey Flo" remark is priceless.  Then, after an attempt to reverse a superstitious curse goes haywire (Harry throws the entire saltshaker over his shoulder, rather than just the proposed pinch), Harry is stuck with a snot-filled burger courtesy of an angry truck driver.  Lloyd then enthusiastically urges Harry to follow his lead: they're going to get even.  Lloyd employs a tactic he saw in a film, where the unsuspecting neighboring table picks up their huge tab.

Why we love it: There's the initial chuckle Harry draws from literally throwing the entire salt shaker.  More striking, is the manic, childlike reaction Carrey lends to Lloyd: As the angry truck driver looms toward their table, Lloyd shrouds in the corner of his end of the booth, pointing a trembling arm and hand toward Harry.  The double take Harry gives to Lloyd is all the more cherished because it is cut short by the short depiction of the truck driver blowing his snot into Harry's freshly-cooked burger.  Then, in a remarkable coup of development, Lloyd's plan to get even actually works.  Both the cashier and table of truck drivers fall to Lloyd's scheme.  There is justice in the universe of movies!

That is until Lloyd brings up the fact, down the road in the van, that the characters in a film who performed the same trick had their throats slit shortly after. "It's a good one!"

Oh man. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 12:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

This'll be a quick one. 

We all know the hooplah revolving around Ang Lee's "Hulk" film from 2003: the Hulk looked too cartoonish and fake, the jump-editing of the comic strip layout was annoying, there was no real villain (in comic book terms), and yada yada yada. I enjoyed Lee's interpretation and found its bright and energetic storytelling approach as a blessing after being bludgeoned with the banality of "Spider-Man."  Everything from the acting, the original score and the quiet gestures of detail given to the CGI Hulk's face was top-notch, I thought. Sure, fighting oversized poodles isn't the most glam gig for a comic book hero, but it was an origin story nonetheless.  There was a lot of dramatic weight there.

Unfortunately, the box office ticket sales weren't record-breaking worthy to the studio heads and now Marvel, teamed with Universal, has taken a stab at giving the franchise a second wind with "The Incredible Hulk" due in theatres this June.

 
The only problem is that after months of Internet banter and press hype, the new Hulk looks strangely more cartoony and looney than Lee's version.  Aside from having longer hair, this new Hulk rang echoes of the Dr. Henry Jekyll beast from "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" for me.  It didn't help that the trailer, which is now in theatres, featured a not-needed slow motion brawl shot.  Nothing rings parody like slow-motion CGI shots (see "Transformers" for more). 

And Liv Tyler is in it (What is this "Armageddon"?).

Added, just from putting together an idea of story from the trailer, I'm able to currently guess that we as an audience won't see this new Hulk in full action until the very end of the film (think of the ending--and only--battle of "Fantastic Four").  So what's good about this new version?  It has William Hurt, Tim Roth and Edward Norton (Hulk) in it. They should be able to outweigh the prodding blank stares Tyler will no doubt bring.  

Then again maybe new life is what this franchise needs. There's an actual villain (Roth's Abomination) in this film, and the fact that such talents like Roth and Norton were attracted to the project, somehow raises the standards.  Who knows.  Director Louis Leterrier (of "Transporter" fame) could make or break his still ripe career with this. If it does turn out to be a bomb, let's hope these studio heads take note: if you hire a multiple Oscar-winning Director like Lee to make a commercial blockbuster, chances are he'll make it unconventional and unique, so plan on some backlash from the usual armchair critics.

This way you won't make an ass of the man by funding a remake starring Steven Tyler's daughter. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 12:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

          

The quoted headline, spoken infamously by Gary Oldman in Tony Scott's "True Romance" (pictured left), popped into my head about halfway through Roger Donaldson's "The Bank Job" (pictured right).  "Bank" is out of control.  And apparently it is white boy day.

The kind of "based on a true story" plot that attaches itself to a movie like Donaldson's is the kind that is entertaining to watch unfold, but in retrospect doesn't really make any logical sense--well it does, but it's more of a logic that certain people who die, die and certain people who need to get arrested, get arrested.  That sort of thing.  There's no real emotional attachment between audience and onscreen players.  When a woman is beheaded in front of an already dug grave, it's more for shock value; there's no pathos.  And what's worse is that it really happened to someone.

This shouldn't stop you from watching "Bank" though.  It delivers on its ads: sex, crime, cheeky bastards.  But its an exercise in predetermined chaos; a frenzy of activity that is on train rails headed toward the inevitable conclusion, to be followed by a loud credit sequence.

And so what began as an initial movie review has derailed into a look back at a more successful film in onscreen chaos: "True Romance."  I can't think of any other movie that features a triple-Sonny-Chiba-feature reference, the late Chris Penn as a good guy and Samuel L. Jackson making 'eating pussy' wisecracks, which all culminates into a final product that not only compelled me to purchase it years ago, but continues to draw me back for an occasional viewing. 

Somehow, in the deeply perverse Tarantino screenplay, there was a certain eloquence to the dialogue and the way the two lead lovebirds (Christian Slater and Patricia Arquette) convinced us to see them as more than a violent Bonnie and Clyde duo; to rather see them as a 90s pop-infused pairing of drifting souls aspiring toward a lost era (Slater's devotion to Elvis, for example). 

The carnage that is climaxed to at the end of "True Romance" held a sort of biblical uprising in its passages.  By the end of "The Bank Job" however, though I was happy to see our lead guys catch lucky breaks, I couldn't help but see frontman Jason Statham tease the audience with promised fight moves for an inevitable "Transporter 3" movie.  I didn't see the exciting climax to an otherwise exhausting plot.

Yet in a current world without a fresh Guy Ritchie flick in theatres, "Bank" proves to be a welcomed but mild return for Statham.  At least he's not in a fucking Jet Li movie. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 07:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

 
What a lovely evening.  I walked into the Music Box Theatre, ordered a medium coffee, sat in my seat, dog-eared a page in Jean-Dominique Bauby's The Diving Bell And The Butterfly, and looked up at the blank screen where a theatre employee was off to the side of it manually adjusting the masking.  I had been very eager to watch Cristian Mungiu's "4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days" for quite some time; it won the Palme D'or at last May's Cannes Film Festival, and that's a big deal.  Past winners of the prize include Gus Van Sant for "Elephant" and Quentin Tarantino for "Pulp Fiction."

The opportunity to see it months ago presented itself at the Chicago Film Festival, but I was met with the demise of a singular sold-out show.  It wasn't my time.

Watching the film, I was thinking a lot about Alfonso Cuaron's masterful "Children Of Men" and the long takes during several scenes.  "Children" dazzled with some awesomely choreographed stunts, explosions and chaotic orchestration.  It was both eye and mind candy.  I can't say "4 Months" is much for eye candy--it's mostly covered in gray, and bleak pallets, though the questions on the topic of abortion and the idea of personal rights comes into naked observation, offering enough sugar for the brain.

Ebert, in his review of the film, made note that the Gabita character (who needs the immediate abortion) is a painful individual who lacks the resources, and often common courtesy toward her best friend and her general state of affairs to win us over: "We wonder how she has survived to her current 20-ish age in a society that obviously requires boldness, courage and improvisation."

Similarly, I felt no pity for Gabita.  Yes, she wants an abortion, but she is so absent-minded, and sometimes annoying, that I just became angrier with her.  She should have forced her guy to slap on a rubber or something. 

Our hearts and our hopes lie with her wonderfully-dedicated friend and study buddy Otilia.  An entire feature could probably be made on the trials and tribulations of her lower-class upbringing, her studies in school and her awkwardly-placed romance with boyfriend Adi.  She has more bite than say, you're hamburger-phone-wielding onscreen vixen.

And thankfully, due to her selfless performance, and involving subplot (she could very well be jailed for assisting with the abortion), the movie finds both its anchor and true calling.  Otilia may not be the one going through abortion, but her fears, worries and surprising choices are both understood and rooted for by the audience.  Well, rooting may be pushing it.

This is abortion we're dealing with.  It's a hot topic issue, I know.  I suppose, I would urge you to watch it; the outcome may not make you feel warm inside, but if you found yourself attracted and engrossed by the moral questions posed at the end of "Gone Baby Gone," you might find yourself agreeing that Gabita would probably not be the best role model.  Or mother. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 03:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

*SPECIAL EARLY REVIEW*

After leaving the advance screening for critics of "Funny Games," I was sure of two things: 1) I had just watched what could possibly be the most controversial and divisive film of the year and 2) I had also just watched, what this filmgoer believes, is a perfectly constructed film that is currently holding the number one spot on 2008's very early best of the year list.

Wow.  I remember last fall, while watching a trailer for "No Country For Old Men," that boasted critical praise (deservedly), reading one of the titlecards that read: "One Hell Of A Film."  No offense to Javier Bardem's monster in "No Country," but he doesn't hold a candle to the horrfic duet of Paul and Peter (played by Michael Pitt and Brady Corbet).  If "No Country" was hell then "Funny Games" is the apocalypse.

Now, I haven't seen Director Michael Haneke's original 1997 film "Funny Games" of which the new version is an exact duplicate of (except in English), but I have seen and own a copy of his "Caché"--as is the situation for many American critics.  That film, a quiet psychological thriller whose villain is a largely unseen voyeur, was a triumph in that its placid camera style actually fueled the screen full of tension.  Usually, thrillers need quick jumpcuts, zooms, close-ups, etc. to provoke an uneasiness, or sense of terror.  That film and this new "Funny Games" has the advantage of being under Haneke's wicked and articulate direction.  Many of the murders in "Games" happen offscreen.  We never see anyone get stabbed or shot.  We just hear it, and usually the gory sounds are accompanied by cold medium shots of someone who is either watching or is in the next room.

This film is going to rattle you.  I've been home for about six hours now and it's taken me that long to muster up the gut to try and write a review that can celebrate the film's genius without making you think it's an arthouse snuff film.  I'm pretty sure the naysayers who will despise the film when it released (on March 14) will call it snuff, or complete chaos.  In fact, upon leaving the auditorium earlier today, I passed by a couple of critics standing in the hallway and this is what I overheard: "How can she [Naomi Watts] make that? She was the executive producer, though I can't see what compelled her to want to tell this story..."

Yes, Naomi Watts was very much involved with the production. Aside from producing she is also the star (though it's not a glamorous role seeing that she is mostly in her sweaty bra and underwear for most of its run).  Obviously Watts, along with Haneke, believed the film could work (and it does).  I guess the best way to explain other critics' contempt with the film can be best described by what my colleague, Scott Tobias of The A.V. Club (The Onion), wrote me earlier today: "Trouble is, "Funny Games" doesn't disguise its contempt for its audience, so it's no surprise that many viewers, in no mood to be scolded for their bloodlust, hate it right back."

This scolding comes by way of the film's lead villain (Pitt) periodically breaking the fourth wall to speak directly to the audience.  "You're on their side, aren't you?" he asks the audience at one point.  Oh, how diabolical. 

If you haven't seen the original, that's fine (a lot of Americans haven't).  If you haven't seen the trailer for the film, then I actually envy you: Though the film offers its fair share of surprises, I cannot even fathom the idea of walking into this film cold.  That must be quite the experience. 

The best films are the ones that provoke, stir up dialogue and conversation, but not just for the sake of arguing.  Haneke is very much concerned with the concept of genre, but more importantly he seems to want to reexamine our culture's fascination with gore and violence.  We have moved, in celluloid eras, from such masterclasses as "Rosemary's Baby" to mindless, bloody torture movies like the "Saw" series.  It's as if Haneke is saying, "If you really want a movie that actually lives up to its alluring poster and slick tagline, I dare you to give this one a try."

Believe me, it's going to break your eggs. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 08:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Maybe it was because "Boyz N The Hood" was both parodied and celebrated so earnestly, that by the time Jack Black appeared in black face during "Be Kind Rewind's" third act, I had forgiven Director Michel Gondry's film for all of its missed opportunities and flaws, and embraced it for what it was basking in: the power of the movies.

Gondry has an eye that still puzzles me but also continues to draw my curiosity.  In his music videos for Daft Punk, The White Stripes, and Foo Fighters, he somehow manages to articulate the exuberant visuals he conjures up into a way that makes them both original but devastatingly familiar.  Who hasn't had a dream where their hands didn't get huge?

Easier said than done of course.  Gondry's zest for creating worlds from common everyday objects is a treasure to behold in today's age of CGI overkill, where lifeless renditions of places like say, middle earth, create more noise than inspiration on the silver screen.  Sometimes he doesn't quite hit a homerun ("The Science of Sleep") but he swings for the fence each time.  Sometimes we're lucky enough to have an "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" hurled our way.

So now there's "Be Kind": a whimsical film that pits its pair of heroes in a situation that inspires them to recreate ("swede" as the film calls it) their favorite videos (mostly B-movies) in order to keep business alive at their shabby video store.  Through some quickly forgettable setup scenes involving Jack Black getting zapped Looney Tunes style, we are to believe that Black is magnetized and thus has the power to erase all the VHS tapes he walks by. Fine. The real fun begins when Black and friend Mos Def (who, by the way, is pretty incoherent in some of his dialogue) actually start to reenact some of their fav flicks by way of recording them with a VHS camera recorder.  A lot of it is funny and inventive and you almost wish there was an added segment at the end, where we get to see one of these twenty-minute long recreated treasures in its entirety.

Up until about the last five minutes, I was pretty sold and accepting of the fact that Gondry had managed to divert my attention for about two hours with his film.  Then during the closing scene of the film, when the camera is pretty much focused in on the eyes and faces of eager viewers watching their neighborhood-created "sweded" docudrama, I was struck with the image of myself and the other members of the audience in the auditorium watching "Be Kind."  All of us, looking ahead at an illuminated screen, mouths open, eyes wide open as well; as if some of us were looking for a kind of divine truth in our moviegoing passage and others looking only for an early evening distraction. 

The idea intrigued me and by the time the possible real point of the film--how each of us creates our own version of what we see, especially in movies--started to sink in, the closing credits were rolling. 

I suddenly want to see the film again.  Maybe I'll wait for it on DVD, though.

Or maybe even on VHS.

Then again, if it is released on VHS (rare these days), part of me hopes that when I put the tape in the VCR, I am met only with static.

Perhaps that will prompt me to make it my own. 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 12:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)