brain freeze

Fifteen Films.

2009-08-22T17:50:00.003-05:00

From a tagged post in Facebook:

A list of fifteen movies you've seen that will always stick with you. The annotations are added to explain the reason for the inclusion. I admit that fifteen is not sufficient to list all the films that have significant/not-so-significant impact on my cinematic sensibilities. However, narrowing them down to a manageable number is simply an evidence of its importance.

Sunset Boulevard (Billy Wilder) Holden and Swanson can beat the crap out of Kutcher and Moore. that cougar derogatory is more than just an understatement. Wilder's picture of the industry is a defib at realism. i can watch this over and over, but realizing what might have been if the original morgue scene was filmed.

Before Sunset (Richard Linklater) intelligent conversations can lead to smart relationships. but the heart/mind aphorism can be tragically ineffectual. sooner or later, the question of cynicism and romanticism pops up and you would be trapped in the corner asking the same thing.

Pickup on South Street (Samuel Fuller) twenty-five bucks and a continuous replay on the dvd is a "nuff said". but Fuller's grit and the graphic staircase pugilism is noir at its best.

Le Samourai (Jean Pierre Melville) Musashi with a forty-five is Melvillian hero, apparently. a homage to Kurosawa, maybe, with Delon instead of Mifune. on the noirish battlefields of the Paris and a technicolor disguise of the dark underworld.

La Nuit Americaine (Francois Truffaut) my first ever dvd is a frenchie unknown except for a handful who see films as art. and who would think, is disapproval. amdist the influx of Hollywood popcorn, a foreign talkie is nowhere to punch a hole through someone else's sound system.

Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock) a blatant sexual Hitchcock is not Hitchcock at all. he is most effective in subtle, unrevealing ways. which is probably makes Notorious his most erotic.

Kisapmata (Mike de Leon) like what i've posted in Pinoydvd years back, bent norms are frightening.

Kyua (Kiyoshi Kurosawa) what a horror film should be sans the gore and the visceral shock. what is more potent terror is the one you cannot/do not see.

The Red Shoes (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger) a sit down with Brianne marvelled at Moira Shearer's pirouettes and arabesques. though its melodramatic execution and the tragic end are stabs at her childhood perceptions, but a wide-eyed smile is a portent of taste.

Spoorloos (George Sluizer) beyond paranoia is unrecognized fear. but as soon as the what-ifs are stacked, where do you turn to?

Babae sa Bubungang Lata (Mario O'Hara) another potshot at the industry, with Wilderian reminisces. but this time, a glimpse at behind-the-scenes see a Visconti-esque backdrop.

Platoon (Oliver Stone) rudimentary awakening at the filmic representation of war--and started an adolescent love affair with the movies.

Rhapsody in August (Akira Kurosawa) my favorite Kurosawa is a Kurosawa melodrama, atypical and Mifune-less. yet the poignancy of history is clearly magnified in a way Kurosawa would in his conventional genre.

A Bridge Too Far (Richard Attenborough)war films are a pick-me-up. a sort of fill to counter the lucid gaps of foreign artsies. although primitive effects but a coherent plotline mark Speilberg's Ryan a notch down on my personal preference.

Blow Up (Michelangelo Antonioni) a mindfuck. lets you think, but what you come up with would screw you over and over. and recovery is merely the beginning of another brain drain. it's an unending cycle that in the end, you might as well consider David Lynch's films as tame.

angels and demons

2009-05-16T16:42:00.003-05:00

Angels and Demons - Ron Howard

It is a popcorn flick. Nothing more than that. But lightyears better than The Da Vinci Code which is dull, tedious and flat-out bad. I have read the book more than 5 years ago and although most of the parts kind of escaped me, I still feel that the plausibility of the plot far exceeds the preposterousness of its supposed sequel. I might have to agree with Stellan Skaarsgard's claim of Dan Brown's inability to write, and the film obviously compensated for the majority of the novel's drawbacks. Certainly, compressing an 300-page/11-hr book into a 2-hr film have to go through arduous process of truncating specific scenes, omitting characters and probably rewriting the overall flow, but astonishingly I agree with it as being somewhat effective. Although Ron Howard's camerawork and the penchant for that Michael Bay technique is not necessary and perhaps gives the movie the impression of being...well, just a popcorn flick.

Lost in Translation

2009-04-29T14:21:00.006-05:00

Lost in Translation - Sofia Coppola

First, as a rebound from a mindless flick I've treated myself yesterday and secondly, for no reason I have missed this despite glowing feedbacks and a personal penchant for such a genre. Well I don't know for a few people that might have elevated this as a favorite merely for the film being as an "indie" (that in 2003, quite a number of indies had mushroomed that had become the focal point of influence for filmmakers and made LIT as a barometer for future imitations I guess), but I think it is because of its diversion from the collective understanding of an independent film. While reminiscent of Linklater's Before Sunrise or Lean's Brief Encounter, which illustrated the male/female relationship on an obviously romantic level, LIT's approach, while somewhat trudges on a similar plane, gives us something to discern about.

in memoriam: Richard Widmark

2008-03-29T22:36:00.007-05:00

Richard Widmark (1914-2008)

Perhaps one of the most underrated actors of classic hollywood. The ubiquitous face of the American noir---from his debut as the ruthless psychopathic mob-hitman in Kiss of Death (1947) to the scheming old hospital director in Michael Crichton's Coma (1978), Widmark's career spanned decades of heavyhanded roles in a variety of genres.

Samuel Fuller, who casted Widmark as the conscience-absent grifter in his masterpiece noir Pickup on South Street (1953), said of the actor as having a "strange face with a twisted, arrogant smile, and that didn't fit into anybody's scheme of Hollywood handsomeness". True enough that Widmark did not possess the typical attributes of a leading man, but it was this that caught Fuller's attention (note that he would work with the director for Hell and High Water, and Fixed Bayonets!).

panic in the streets

2007-10-26T02:50:00.000-05:00

Panic in the Streets
Directed by Elia Kazan
Screenplay by Daniel Fuchs and Richard Murphy
Based on the story “Quarantine and Some Like ‘Em Cold” by Edna and Edward Anhart
Released 1950 by Twentieth Century Fox
Cast: Richard Widmark, Paul Douglas, Jack Palance, Barbara Bel Geddes, Zero Mostel

Panic in the Streets was made at the height of the “Communist witchhunts” by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) during the 1950s. The atmosphere of a Soviet invasion hung like a sinister sunlight out to burn the brittle epidermises of the American society. It was probably one reason why Elia Kazan decided to helm a film of propagandist paranoia as an appropriate response to the growing unease of the public regarding Communism.

Clinton Reed (Widmark) is a physician who works for the Public Health Service and is an expert in communicable diseases. He wears his military-style uniform as, primarily, a form of intimidation and unmissable fact to proclaim that he is in-charge. Whether that brings him a sense of personal satisfaction, it somehow inhibits him from pursuing a case that is beyond the juridisction the epaulets on his drabs bequeaths him. When a homicide victim turns up to be an index case of a contagious pneumonic plague, Reed is forced to team up with Police Captain Tom Warren (Douglas) to find out who killed the man who, in fact, maybe a carrier of the plague as a result of a direct contact with the deceased.

The film is festooned with undertones of the public suspicion of Communism and Hollywood’s immediate reply to the threat. Interestingly, the virus as depicted in the film is metaphorically the specific ideology meant to contaminate the unknowing public, which during that time, Communism was rapidly gaining the upperhand. It would also be interesting to notice that this will be the last film Kazan will make with Zero Mostel who plays the killer’s sidekick (Fitch); and Barbara Bel Geddes who plays Widmark’s love half, before the two will be blacklisted by the committee. Kazan, on the other hand, would testify at the hearing but will incur the ire of much of his peers.

Originally titled Outbreak, the film emphasizes on the hunt for the killer rather than the ‘what-ifs’. Albeit lacking modern scientific basis for Reed’s monologue at a conference in the early sequence, it still manages to give certain credibility to the main plot which is to make it as a hardboiled police procedural. Kazan’s neorealistic influences provide significant contribution to its development—which, for example, is the choice of location shooting in New Orleans, and the inclusion of most of the city’s citizens and inhabitants in the cast.

Jack Palance, in his cinematic debut, plays the ruthless gangster/killer Blackie, and along with two of his henchmen Fitch (Mostel) and Poldi, unknowingly become the target of the manhunt. The climactic chase scene results in a predictable conclusion, with the top-billed actor getting all the credit. It seems the disparity that exists between the police force and an attached government official has been linked by a thin thread of popcorn drama.

Nonetheless, the film has moments, of course. It visually represents the microcosm of a 1950s New Orleans, where backstreets reveal a hodgepodge of a poverty-stricken populace and endless social canker amidst a milieu of a terrifying would-be medical catastrophe. And despite the facetiousness of the cause for alarm (evidently, pneumonic plague was still considered as an incurable disease during the early to the middle part of the 20th century—though rare cases are continued to be reported), it manages to instill widespread terror. Furthermore, Kazan’s handiwork on the film is a fitting prelude to his award-winning On the Waterfront, shot four-years later.

the postman always rings twice

2007-10-24T01:22:00.001-05:00

The Postman Always Rings Twice
Directed by: Tay Garnett
Screenplay by: Harry Ruskin and Niven Busch
Based on a novel by James M. Cain
Released 1946 by Metro-Goldwyn Mayer
Cast: John Garfield, Lana Turner, Hume Cronyn, Leon Ames, Cecil Kellaway

Tay Garnett’s potboiler film-noir The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), is perhaps worthy to be lined up together with Wilder’s earlier noir masterpiece Double Indemnity (1944) as two of the greatest films that grasp the genre with masterful precision. And to notice that both of them were written by former journalist James M. Cain, who together with other writers such Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Mickey Spillane, form the core of hardboiled crime fiction that would create an entirely new kind of literary genus.

Frank Chambers (Garfield) is a drifter with an “itchy feet”, walks into a lonely hamburger outpost in the middle of Pacific Coast Highway after a hitchhike. He is greeted by the owner of the place, Nick Smith (Kellaway), and brings him in. The camera, then pans into a corner of the screen to allow us to see the sign “Man Wanted” hanging on a tree branch (to think of the double meaning of it is a funny thing indeed).

A lipstick rolls across the room and into Chambers’ foot, and again, we are treated to a similar reaction as that of Chambers. Standing at the edge of a portico is Nick Smith’s wife, Cora (Turner). A heaving sigh at the perfectly-proportioned structure of a woman, at this time we are not aware of how cunning and dangerous she is going to be. Chambers will it discover later, but not before he will plunge headfirst into her scheming ways, and an eventual seduction that will spiral out of control.

“Threesome”
The Postman Always Rings Twice is a menage-a-trois. From the arrival of Frank Chambers to the entrance of Cora Smith, it reeks of utmost sexuality. We can also deduce of Nick Smith’s incapacity to perform his marital obligations to Cora. The film is a love story that traverses the road-often-traveled of noirs: a discontented wife against the backdrop of a tumultous marriage, and an accidental third-party to drag into the whole mess of a despicable crime just to liberate herself from an impregnable chain.

At first, there is the unwanted chemistry that exists between the two characters: Frank’s attempt at flirtations, and Cora’s disdain for the new guy. Perhaps, we can say that their love-hate relationship only materializes the propensities to perform a hideous deed later on. They fall in lust, they fall in love, they defy the norms of a society that during those times adhere to stringent morality. What Nick lacks, Frank excels at it. He possesses the uncanny ability to sweep a woman off her feet and coerce her to do what is unthinkable.

Cora, on the other hand, is more smarter than he is. However, she conceals it along with an emotional baggage, to which she is prepared to use at an opportune moment. She is the perennial femme fatale—a preying mantis who would gobble every man who strays into her territory—and similarly with Walter Neff of Double Indemnity, Frank Chambers falls into the culvert of her insidious character.

Nick Smith, is shamefully, the film’s scapegoat. The bastion of conventionality. The unassuming old man, though for some reason, he is clearly aware of what is transpiring between his wife and the stranger he picked up. Doing nothing about it, is probably what makes him high. He is a voyeur of some sort. His paroxyms arrive at seeing his wife and another man. I think what is missing in their arrangement is the blunt agreement of both parties concerned.

Crime and Punishment
When the crime is committed, there is nothing spectacular about it. They botch the initial attempt and we would still anticipate a rerun. The moment they succeeded in doing it, the suspense commences.

Hume Cronyn plays Arthur Keats, Cora’s sardonic lawyer, who is as equally cunning as she is. Although much of the second part of the film revolves around the aftermath of the couple’s devilish ways, it is interesting to notice Keats’ struggle for Cora’s attention. He is evidently hitting on her, but knows of Cora’s guilt that probably pursuing it would do more harm than good on him. His methods clearly outmaneuver his rival, DA Kyle Sackett (Ames), who is relentless on bringing the couple to justice for what they did.

Keats and Sackett embody the underbelly of an upright justice system, whose methodologies of handling criminal cases are as crooked as the criminal themselves. They manipulate each other, seeking for loopholes to bury the hatchet onto one’s head. Needless to say, one’s attempt is another one’s triumph and eventually let the perpetrators of the crime get away scot-free. The machinations of the courtroom scenes somehow brings a sort of introduction to the film’s second part—from where a new beginning gradually takes shape.

The overall flavor of the film lies not on the couple’s search for the perfect crime, but on the illicit relationship between Frank Chambers and Cora Smith. As opposite sides of the coin, they could never be together even if they think they are, only the fantasy of it remains the loosening bond that unites them both.

double indemnity

2007-10-21T20:38:00.000-05:00

Double Indemnity
Directed by: Billy Wilder
Screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler
Based on the novel by James M. Cain
Copyright 1944 by Universal Pictures
Cast: Fred McMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson

They say the greatest film noir ever made is Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity (1944). And perhaps, the one that would become the barometer of the array of films that carry a similar theme and atmosphere.

Walter Neff played by Fred McMurray arrives at a stuccoed Spanish mansion owned by an oil magnate, in the hope of getting him to affix the renewal papers for a lapsed auto insurance. Instead, he is greeted by the other half, Phyllis Dietrichson (Stanwyck), who emerges partially-wrapped in what Cain would write in his novel as “house pajamas”. From their initial rendezvous, a chemistry is sparked; a flame ignites without the likelihood of getting it extinguished. Furthermore, it would consume Neff with a backdraft of seduction and the avoidable, yet, foreseeable act of murder.

“I Did It For the Woman”
Double Indemnity put on-screen the pulpiness of pulp fiction. It was made at a time of cinematic purity, when less-than-moral elements such as infidelity and/or murder were considered inappropriate for a morally-staunched America. But behind the façade of a spit-shined image of a country then embroiled in a World War, the proliferated pulps of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett and James M. Cain had transformed the public perception of the literary culture.

Cain’s femme fatale, Phyllis, the strikingly beautiful yet nefariously-scheming blonde, is surprisingly different from what the novel had described her. She is more submissive, the aggression reveals a personality capable of creating a monster out of someone ordinary—in this case, the unwilling victim of her venomous appeal is the unknowing insurance agent Walter Neff. She is definitive manipulator, so to speak, a forlorn woman scathed by the circumstances of her marriage that her decision of murder further elevates one’s sympathy for her to exploit.

Neff’s descriptive narration proves a likely revelation of Phyllis Dietrichson, even at the beginning of the film.

"It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the
smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million.
There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder
sometimes can smell like honeysuckle..."

Love, as Neff would subconsciously discover later, turns someone into a completely helpless sucker.

“I Did It For the Money”
Most film noirs revolve around an individual’s appetite for money. Whether it is a primary or a secondary need, it contributes to the whole spectrum of the plot. People would kill for money. The root of all evil, they say, but the catalyst for the desire to commit such a deplorable deed.

The title refers to a specific clause on insurance policies as a come-on for prospective clients. It meant that the agency would pay twice the contract’s face value on cases of accidental death. In the film, the double indemnity is the hundred-thousand dollar equivalent if the cause of death occurs near/in/on a railroad track. Committing the crime, as it turns out, depends on a flawless blueprint. Perhaps one aspect of most successful noirs is its ability to magnify the process of planning to build-up the suspense later on.

Albeit a sinister theme, the film does not divert from the usual crime does not pay cliché. There is the overall atmosphere of a perfect crime, but it would not be, because of the presence of Neff’s superior, Barton Keyes (Robinson), who, for the most part of the film relies on his internal little man to check out hunches. It is Keyes who will provide the suspense and the one who will counterbalance a probable hackneyed resolution. He follows his intuitions and although the weight of suspicion almost brings him to discover the identity of the perpetrators, Keyes dismisses the rationality of it.

Which probably explains his relationship with Neff. Their affinity extends the extra mile that he will stick out his neck for Neff, but he will not allow Neff to get away with it. Their complex friendship is not just caused by the length of their acquaintance, but perhaps of one’s recognition and respect for the other—evidently illustrated by Neff’s incessant act of lighting Keyes’ cigar.

Double Indemnity also trudges the subject of sexuality, though without the graphic vulgarities that would pepper a similarly-themed movie of the 80s or 90s (think Kasdan’s Body Heat or the Rafelson remake of The Postman Always Rings Twice). It is interesting to note of Neff’s flirtations with Phyllis, but at the same time we are treated to brain itches, instead. We are left with questions of the consummation of their affair, however, Wilder would only leave us with mere insinuations.

Raymond Chandler supplied the immediacy of the dialogues, which were particularly engaging, in view of the fact of his background on the genre. However, it was Wilder’s prestidigitating hand that fit that pieces, with references to early German expressionistic styles that he would deny on later interviews regarding the film. Double Indemnity opened up an entire new dimension on the art of filmmaking, particularly on the breaking of taboos that for years had precluded an existing literary form to be recognized.

litpick: harry potter and the deathly hallows

2007-07-22T18:09:00.001-05:00

harry potter and the deathly hallows - j. k. rowling, scholastic, 2007

this is possibly the only review i'll be making of a harry potter book, particularly because i hadn't amassed a certain degree of interest as opposed to what i have with a richard matheson story. i wasn't at all, a potter freak, as what my wife would coin me, but rather a reader with an eclectic taste; so it seemed that potter's existence on the literary world was, i'll attest to my account, a dish for a pair of eyes to feast on. although it didn't create much of the similar attraction it had grappled the million or so readers with its tale of wizardry and stuff, i must say that it somehow provided me a sense of exuberance and transient entertainment whenever i open its velvety decorative frontispiece.

harry potter and the deathly hallows is, honestly, a joyous banquet of literary diversion to ogle on. perhaps, an appropriate curtain for the boy who has captivated millions. it would be hypocritical to say of rowling's prose to be elementary, however, such narrative fundamentality was the reason of its initial and ultimate success. harry potter's audience is a mixture of ages; of diverse upbringings; and possibly of a cornucopia of lifestyles.

deathly hallows, while the final installment of the series, has answered the many questions that has plagued the millions (or better yet, the billions) of its followers, it also managed to bring a necessary closure. closure, in a way, of rowling's yearning to end a boy's journey to childhood, and the commencement to adulthood. the book focuses more on what its readers anticipate---probably why rowling chose to satiate the queries her previous books had left dangling on the crevices, rather than an administration of last rites to a story that demands a fitting finale. nevertheless, rowling's last potter adventure bowed on an acceptably high note.

i wouldn't emphasize much on what the plot of the book decides to undertake as it would prompt unnecessary details that may or may not be considered spoilers (in anyway, i'll avoid putting in facts as much as i can). potter's adventure takes off from where the previous one ended, and in such a way that i could, perhaps, associate similarities with lucas' star wars or tolkien's ring trilogy. however deftly woven to form a plausible course to conclude such a fantastic machination. from the whereabouts of minor characters that unexplicably find themselves on the rearview; backstories of mentor-apprentice relationships; to allegiances that we didn't think could transpire. the lack of details on the events leading to the final chapter is one thing i perceive worthy of rash disappointment, but i won't complain.

rowling's reported announcement of her decision to ditch potter's story for a serious endeavor in writing has secured harry's legacy. to many, it could define a desertion of sort. to others, it might meant closure befitting a wonderful tale. for some, it merely suggest that fans of harry potter can now take rest.

litpick: ring

2007-06-19T23:33:00.001-05:00

Ring - Koji Suzuki; Vertical Press, Inc. 2006 (originally published 1991)
Sadako in prose is frighteningly real than the Sadako in film. Koji Suzuki's attempt at horror fiction is Japanese gothic. Nakata's storytelling is eyecandy. No wonder, many say the book is better than the film. Pop-culture tastes like Matheson casserole. Film is particularly faithful, though the tickle in the frightbone is purely visual. Kills the thinking. Numbs the imagination. Leaves no room for the mind to function. Suzuki's narrative arrives straight. No chaser. Omits the tv monster for plausibilities. Suzuki's moniker as the Japanese answer to Stephen King is overrated. Blurb cliches read compelling and well-written, save for minor translation glitches and redundancies. Plot twists on Sadako revolves on noirish similiraties, trudges crime and science fiction with rooms to maneuver and think horror. Read with the lights on, I advise.

the butcher

2007-04-22T20:22:00.000-05:00

Le Boucher - Claude Chabrol

Chabrol's moniker as the "French Hitchcock" somehow lives up to his name (I think the comparison to the master of suspense is rightly justified in someway). Although the film starts pretty slow and Chabrol's emphasis on the character development does a great deal of significance to the outcome of the plot, i believe it is safe to say that the suspense comes from the nature of relationship of the two characters rather than on the events that precipitated the whole shebang. The film tells the story of Helene, a schoolteacher (Stephanie Audran) and her slightly-clandestine affair with the town butcher, Popaul (Jean Yanne), and the series of killings that rock the small village. The plot is not particularly complicated, and Chabrol's focus on the humanity of the characters only allow enough space for the killings to transpire. There are hints of Hitchcockian conflicts to note: the shared secrets and suppressed guilts, and Helene's discovery of the real identity of the perpetrator that ultimately results in a surprising ambiguity.

My Night at Maud

2007-04-06T17:58:00.000-05:00

Ma Nuit Chez Maud - Eric Rohmer

I think that it was pretty appropriate that I managed to see this for the season. Although devoid of religious inflections, somehow its blatant sketch of the moral dilemma the protagonist exuded is enough reason not to watch The Passion of the Christ nor The Ten Commandments for Lent. Rohmer's film is not heretical at all, even for the fact that most arguments presented revolves on Blaise Pascal's philosophies versus the church's preachings. Trintignant plays the morally conflicted bachelor whose stringent Catholic beliefs taught him that he could never be with a woman unless he is bound to marry her. Soon, he finds himself spending the night with a divorced doctor named Maud and the exchange of words between them is somewhat witty (sometimes I think Linklater must have made some riffing of his own to his Before Sunrise/Sunset) and profound but likewise sensible. It's basically a feel-good morally-resolved love story, but not in your run-of-the-mill sort of way.

reposts

2007-03-27T17:26:00.000-05:00

i'm doing a repost of the mini-reviews i made at PinoyDVD...

so, read on.

thirteen days

2007-03-27T17:24:00.000-05:00

Thirteen Days - Roger Donaldson

Thirteen Days retells of the thirteen fateful days during the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 wherein the world braced itself for a would-be nuclear standoff between USA and USSR. It's not so much of a political thriller, but it borders on it anyway, taking the liberty of distorting an iota of historical fact in order to give a sense of camp entertainment. Kevin Costner stars as Kenneth O' Donnell, the Special Assistant to JFK, a man whose job is to keep his president on the right track even if means covering up JFK's mistakes. However the film portrays the Kennedys and O'Donnel a good light contrary to Seymour Hersh's expose of their malevolent deeds in his book The Dark Side of Camelot. Anyway, the movie somehow manages to vindicate them of what Hersh had revealed, but it in some way presents their weakness--a terrible muddle in decision making that nearly put the situation out of hand. Bruce Greenwood plays a believable JFK, and Steven Culp's RFK justifies what the man was to his older brother. Costner, beyond the phony Boston accent and the role O'Donnell played during the crisis (which plenty of historians rebuffed saying O'Donnell didn't even give a damn about the events) redeems him of his previous cinematic failures. Thirteen Days is an entertaining political/historical thriller that deserves even a single peek.

litpick: Codex

2006-10-27T11:50:00.000-05:00

Codex - Lev Grossman; Harcourt Books Publishers 2004
The Da Vinci Code sans Dan Brown and...everything in it, I guess. While Brown's book is the GoNuts-DoNuts (as Dodo would put it) of the literary scene, this one is far below the level of, even, Mister Donuts. The one that you'd consider as that sugar-sprinkled concoction found in glass partitions of local bakeries, wishing some famished carcass would liberate them with their few hard-earned currency. Simply put, it is not that would rocket up the list of a National Bookstore nor PowerBooks bestseller list. Nevertheless, I'll personally elevate it there. Lev Grossman, an unknown dude to the majority of the reading public--except for those who consider Time Magazine as part of their daily news intake---wrote this 'perfectly-okay' novel as his contribution to the growing number of rip-offs Dan Brown's book had amassed. However, the turnout is, in my opinion, a lot better. It tells of a yuppie banker Edward Wozny tasked by a uber-wealthy client to catalog their collection of old books and at the same time dig through the dirt-crusted chests of a codex that nobody believed existed. From thereon the plot weaves through the a fictional medeival history of the author, allusions to Chaucer and a subplot on a Myst-like PC game that Edward found himself addicted to. Yep, it's Da Vinci code minus the know-it-all attitude of Langdon (Wozny's failure to grasp history as well as his ephemerality is quite...um, realistic); sans the car-chases; and an antagonist that exists only if you would categorize him/her as one. It's an intelligent thriller. And it'll keep you stuck to your seat for a few hours a day, at least.

Kyoshi Kurosawa's KYUA (Cure)

2006-07-19T20:31:00.000-05:00

KYUA (english title: CURE)
Directed by: Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Screenplay: Kiyoshi Kurosawa (based on novel)
Copyright 1997
Cast: Koji Yakusho, Anna Nakagawa, Masato Hagiwara

With the release of Hideo Nakata’s Ringu (Ring, 1998) and its succeeding sequel here in the Philippines, viewers immediately lunged to grasp the cinematic ingenuity of Japanese directors in their near-convincing manipulation of the horror genre. Ring created the ambience of pure terror into the hearts of the viewing public—and unintentionally junked its Hollywood remake. Evidently, the advent of Japanese cinema among the Filipinos manifested a clear meaning: we are not cinematic morons as many perceived us to be.

Clearly, this statement is also indebted to Kiyoshi Kurosawa as the feature director for the month-long annual Eiga Sai Film Festival held at the Shangri-La Cinema, the CCP and the UP Film Center. Although it would only run for the entire March, the festival’s feature film is the psychological suspense thriller, KYUA (CURE). With this, Kurosawa was typed as a horror-auteur, succeeding Kyua with two more films of the same genre: Korei (Séance) and Kairo (Pulse). His name might be similar to the great filmmaker Akira Kurosawa who lifted the prevarication of the Japanese cinematic proficiency by bringing The Seven Samurais, Ran, Rashomon, The Hidden Fortress to global audience. It is in this sense that I surmise that the name Kurosawa is, if not, indirectly associated to the word Cinema, though there exists no sanguinary relation between the two.

Anyway, KYUA is admittedly, an intellectual horror. What lack visually is compensated by the screenplay itself. The plot revolves around a series of gruesome murders—its methods tangibly connected (leaving an X mark on different parts of the body), those apprehended were either the victims’ loved ones, colleagues or friends and although they admit being the ones who perpetrated the deed, their recollection of why they did it seemed to have lost in their consciousness. Enter police detective Takabe Ken-ichi (Koji Yakusho) who from the start of the investigation deftly surmised that a hypnotic trance carried the perpetrators into the grotesque reality of murder. Apparently, it turned out to be the work of an eccentric wanderer (Makoto Hagiwara)—whose real identity we wouldn’t know of until the latter part of the film. The arrival of this mysterious character challenged (but didn’t contest) Takabe’s claim of a possible hypnosis scenario, but rather attempted to see what behind the detective’s persona. The anticlimactic yet frightening denouement that reminded me of the conclusion of Twin Peaks is somewhat delicately interpreted though one could sense and notice the similarity between the two. Also, if one would notice the style Kurosawa adopted, it would be that of the prosaic touch mastered and perfected by the suspense meister Alfred Hitchcock.

If one would be asked on his/her reaction towards the film, they would probably claim that there are plenty of unnecessary scenes that needed adequate and thorough exposition. Kurosawa leaves such questions to the audience—for them to search for the answers and the explanations. Perhaps it is in this light that the movie deserves a second serving—a means of a visual laxative for the mental quench aggregated by a subtle psychological distress brought forth by an intensive miscomprehension of the film’s plot. Complicated though, but with the success of Ringu and its succeeding sequels on the Philippine moviegoing society, Cure could simply be an abrupt dose to the effects brought by Sadako.

Technically, Cure is a cinematic near-perfection: a delivery of an appropriate soundtrack that I could associate a Bernard Herrmann or an Ennio Morricone; Kurosawa’s screen shots made me reminisce of a “Babad” shot as explained by Filipino movie director Lore Reyes—which involves a mere panning of camera on a certain setting without any cuts and editing whatsoever. Kurosawa’s filmic reality, meanwhile lies according to the prosaic grounds of basic filmmaking, exuding the common processes of editing yet stylish in numerous instances (the “Babad” shot for example)—which often reminds me of Sergei Eisenstein in Battleship Potemkin or Robert Altman’s The Player.

While CURE may have lacked the Sadako-esque horror that most viewers would have probably anticipated, it delves deeply into the realms of the human psyche—the characterization of what is terrifying is subtly represented. Koji Yakusho’s portrayal of Takabe is similar to Kyle MacLachlan’s detective in David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. And from this point, I could also notice the poignant traits and the Lynch-esque perspective that Kurosawa may have adopted and skillfully modified. Makoto Hagiwara’s portrayal of the eccentric wanderer niftily put the mystery into the person responsible for the brutal deeds—and his incessantly-reiterated question of “Who are you?” added to the weight of mystery and terror into the development of both the storyline and the characters being groomed. Basically, as the film progresses into the climax and its gradual denouement, we are also treated to the same question repeatedly uttered by one of the characters. It is a query of our capability to understand the film better or are we just the same beings before and after we viewed the film. It is also a question that challenged our mental capacities into believing that it is only a movie—nothing more, nothing less—but somehow the situations presented justified the reality of something unfathomable. Hence, our existence as rational human beings is fundamentally what Kurosawa is trying to explain.

In the large spectrum of things, CURE tells of the vast possibilities the human psyche could (in some way) attain—whether it could lead to something sinister or not. It is a film that many people considered horror, but it tackles reality with twisted portrayals and mild exaggerations. Technically, Kurosawa’s camera works and cinematography made it extremely horrifying, nevertheless.

As a parting word, CURE is a manifestation of Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s brilliant vision and pen—and perhaps what we could refer to as the laxative that treated the recurring spells brought forth by Hideo Nakata and Sadako.

breaking news

2006-04-15T11:08:00.000-05:00

from my post in pinoydvd:

Breaking News - Johnnie To

I'm not really fond of Hong Kong crime films until a friend introduced me to Johnnie To. I've seen a couple of his films in Star Mandarin back then (if i remember t'was Running Out of Time 2 and Fulltime Killer) but didn't paid much interest. Recently, I blind-bought Breaking News, which i heard from that same acquaintance that it was shown at Cannes. Tried it. Liked it. However found the plot as shallow as most Hollywood action flicks tend to be. The action sequences are heavy, right from the start and towards its predictable payoff. The cast are fine, except that he should have casted those that rotated on much of his previous crime dramas (Andy Lau, Tony Leung, Lau Ching-Wan) and give the film certain credibility on how its entirety should be played. Anyway, the gunbattles compensated for To's miscast but I think the ultimate lowdown of the film is its finale---something i believe is a total opposite of how a majority of crime/triad films are resolved. I'd rather see an ambiguous resolution than the usual 'crime does not pay' cliche. I wouldn't complain. To's the master of crime/triad entertainment and to that, he didn't fail on this one.

feng shui

2006-03-09T12:16:00.000-05:00

Feng Shui - Chito Rono

Finally saw this film last night, expecting nothing but a mental recap of mixed reviews I've read. So far, it's a nice film, I won't have to put a tiny synopsis here since almost everybody have already seen it. It's an effective thriller, nonetheless, but carries a plethora of both technical and creative flaws that are obvious enough to be noticed. First, I don't like the plot. Somehow, it brings an unusual negative effect on Feng Shui in general- - -which we normally turn to for us to get good fortune. The use of ba-gua as a malevolent ala-Friday-the-13-the-series-thingie (the catalyst for whatever ill-fortune that befell the characters in the movie) seems to be like a smear campaign to boycott the sales of that particular thing. I also don't like the idea of having those ghosts walk around the house as if they already reside in it- - -more like a retribution to Joy for putting pushing them to their early graves? Or does it have anything to do with the ba-gua itself? Third, yeah, Filipinos are suckers for spoiling the mystery by explaining them through a, let's say, a pseudo-expert on the matter. Joonee Gamboa's cameo is unnecessary, he's the spoon who is shoved inside the audience's mouths, feeding them anything that would kill the thinking. Fourth, there is no need for the overuse of sound score. I think it would be better if Rono partly relies on silence to contribute to the suspense. Feng Shui is, evidently, a spin-off of some Asian horror thing, and Ringu comes to mind since I don't usually fancy them much. Fifth, the acting: except for the supporting roles like Lotlot and Ilonah Jean, it just sagged. I don't know but it just hit me that this film would spawn a sequel or number of sequels primarily because it ended unresolved. Ambiguity is one of our weaknesses, so I'd be probably right. (yeah, Filipinos are also suckers to see what happened to Joy and the to family that inherited the ba-gua). Sixth, the ending: it would be more effective had they took out the make-up and merely utter that impeccable spoiler of a dialogue (ala-Sixth Sense ba?). Anyway, it is entertainment, nevertheless, but not a thinking man's movie. It may not be the perfect horror movie but it sure frightened the hell out of me.

a search

2005-05-11T21:42:00.000-05:00

note: an old post from pinoydvd that i decided to repost in this blog.

What Alice Found - A. Dean Bell

Caught this film as I browsing through the channels trying to find something to watch. Thank heavens for the Independent Film Channel for indie gems and productions that probably would not make a mainstream release. Anyway, What Alice Found is an independent delicacy that lacks certain spices but leaves enough aftertaste to either like it or hate it. The film tells of a young girl (Alice) who meets and befriends an elderly couple on her way to Florida. However, she learns that things aren't the way it seems, and she is forced into the world of truck-stop prostitution. Judith Ivey (Keanu Reeves' mother in The Devil's Advocate) stars as one of the elderly couple who may, or may not what she seems she is, fabricates lies to the young Alice, prompting her to believe plenty of things that may or may not be true at all. It's not a crime story, the title would interpret otherwise, however the mystery is perhaps one thing that carries the entire film in a rather, ambiguous conclusion: what will become of Alice? Although, it is actuallly a coming-of-age movie, it certainly defies the nuances that makes it one. The twists are sketchy, but it completely conveys the message to the audience. What Alice Found is one independent movie that in a way, deserves any kind of respect from its viewers.

death trip

2005-05-11T12:30:00.000-05:00

James Ellroy's Feast of Death - Vikram Jayanti

Caught this while browsing Sundance Channel. This documentary meticulously reconstructs the murder of bestselling author James Ellroy's mother 47 years ago. However, the reconstruction limits itself to gruesome police photographs, the now-and-then description of the place where the body was dumped, and Ellroy reciting lines from his memoir My Dark Places. Interestingly, the movie also dwells with the unsolved murder of Black Dahlia (a crime which Ellroy attributed his mother's tragic demise- - -that until this very day---still remain unsolved), and in a astonishing diversion from Ellroy, he invited a colleague to present a plausible theory as to who really murdered Elizabeth Short. Superimposing with the detailed narration of the Betty Short case by Ellroy's friend Larry Harnisch (whom he considered to be a Black Dahlia freak) are crime scene photographs from the 1947 casefile including a close-up view of Short's face (gruesome, I know, that i tend to look away when the shot was shown), the decapitated body of the deceased and, also, the now-and-then comparison of the body dump place. Reviews of the film when it was shown at BBC and Showtime Channel a few years back claimed that it somehow solved the Dahlia case after all. Personally, I'm an Ellroy fan- - -read almost all of his books- - - and the movie in anyway, provided me with the answer as to who Ellroy really is (and probably the reason of his fetish with unsolved crimes). The film, though somewhat pretentious in its attempt to solve Ellroy's mother's death, is definitely a must see for any fan of the author.

getting back...

2005-05-04T21:30:00.000-05:00

had a Beatles fixation the past few days. snatched a few CDs from their catalog:

revolver
help!
let it be
abbey road
the beatles anthology 2
the beatles anthology 3

(the anthologies serve as pseudo-replacements of the CDs i left in Manila).

reminiscing my second-year HS fifteen years ago, thirty years later, when the Beatles retook what's little left of puberty-infested sanities students during that time hurriedly tucked into their undergarments.

jai guru de va om

a cinephile's list

2005-03-13T11:27:00.000-05:00

a thread in pinoydvd suggests a list of "your all-time greatest movies". i managed to come up with a 7-film list, which i attributed to the number of times i've seen. i refrained from predicating such list from technical what-have-yous/whatnots since it would compromise the likeness factor that bordered on its entirety and not on small detail.

anyway, i'm updating my list, with the inclusion of those that i mistakenly dropped in some point, and those that i have forgotten to include in the initial list.

in no order of preference:

1. Det Sjunde inseglet (1957) - Ingmar Bergman
2. Pickup on South Street (1953) - Samuel Fuller
3. Notorious (1946) - Alfred Hitchcock
4. Vertigo - (1958) - Alfred Hitchcock
5. Hachi-gatsu no Kyoshikyoku (1991) - Akira Kurosawa
6. La Nuit Americaine (1975) - Francois Truffaut
7. A Bridge Too Far (1977) - Richard Attenborough
8. Before Sunrise (1995)/Before Sunset (2004) - Richard Linklater
9. Le Battaile d' Alger (1962) - Gillo Pontecorvo
10. Bande A' Part (1964) - Jean-Luc Godard
11. Kyua (1997) - Kyoshi Kurosawa
12. Ostre Sledovane Vlaky (1966) - Jiri Menzel
13. Amarcord (1974) - Federico Fellini
14. Itim (1976) - Mike de Leon
15. Sunset Boulevard(1950) - Billy Wilder
16. Spoorloos(1987) - Georges Sluizer

that's all for now. i know i'll be updating list as time goes by. some will be intentionally dropped off, some will be retained, others will earn an outright spot, others will be evaluated. i don't know. as long as my dvd player and my cable tv spew reels and reels of cinematic baked breads, this list will continue to breathe life.

RIP, FPJ

2004-12-15T15:18:00.000-05:00

Fernando Poe Jr., Da King of Philippine movies is dead.

He died last monday of the stroke that sent him to coma since Saturday. He had a career that lasted 50+ years, and is considered to be one of the greatest of Filipino actors. He was so popular that he attempted a bid a presidency and nearly won.

I don't fancy much his films, except Intramuros, but his demise is a big loss to the Filipino movie industry.

Requiescat in Pace, FPJ.

john wayne unharmed

2004-09-17T20:22:00.000-05:00

from an entry I posted at Pinoydvd:

In Harm's Way - Otto Preminger

One of John Wayne's films that he doesn't get killed in the end, and whatever that means I don't know if it is good or bad. Yeah, he lived in The Longest Day, but it wasn't at all his movie. He's topbilled, but he shares the limelight with other top actors in that time: Robert Mitchum, Richard Burton, etc. Well, I guess I merely get to appreciate a John Wayne film without expecting that he'll get the bullet in the end. Anyway, Wayne stars alongside Kirk Douglas as Navy officers seeking redemption after a blunder during the attack on Pearl Harbor. The film drags close to three hours, its first half starting from peacetime Hawaii and ending up till the Jap assault, while the other half dwells primarily with both the characters' attempt to redeem themselves. Preminger carefully restaged the Pearl Harbor attack a lot smarter than Bay's albeit he lacks the technical wiz that the latter achieved. Minor roles by Henry Fonda, Burgess Meredith and George Kennedy complements the film. Wayne, actually, towers over the entirety of the movie (also literally, he dwarfs his co-stars by a few inches), practically anything from its mushy sequences to brilliantly shot battle scenes. It's not probably the best war movie, it's idiosyncratic, but hey, it's far different from Bruckheimer's Pearl Harbor .

Truffaut in Excelsior

2004-09-13T13:08:00.000-05:00

Le Dernier Metro (eng. title: The Last Metro)
Directed by: Francois Truffaut
Written by: Francois Truffaut and Suzanne Schiffman
Copyright 1980
Released by: Studio Canal
Cast: Gerard Depardieu, Catherine Deneuve, Jean Poiret, Heinz Bennent, Jean-Louis Richard
Available in R1 DVD from Tartan Video’s Francois Truffaut Collection

Francois Truffaut’s Le Dernier Metro (1980) is Truffaut’s last film before he succumbed to a fatal brain tumor in 1984. However, he made a cameo appearance in Steven Speilberg’s science-fiction-fantasy flick Close Encounters of the Third Kind a year before his early demise-which in fact, could be Speilberg’s own homage to a great director that he could consider as his greatest influence. Truffaut’s own directorial capacities, while he focused (and more often) on mature yet light themes has been the material trademark on most of his works notably Le Quatre Cents Coups (The 400 Blows [1959]), who introduced Antoine Doinel as his filmic contemporary; Fahrenheit 451 (1962), which incidentally was Truffaut’s first and only Hollywood production; and La Nuit Americaine (Day for Night [1975]), the only film that brought him his only Cannes’ Palme d’ Or and the Oscars for Best Foreign Film.

Le Dernier Metro or The Last Metro in English is a story of a Parisian theatre struggling to keep its doors open during the German occupation of France. Set in 1942, the film’s main concern here is its attempt to put Truffaut’s lighter shades to contrast with the history’s darkest time. While the combination turns out a bit perfect, it somehow betrays a certain degree of realism that peppers the traditional French New Wave style of filmmaking. Gerard Depardieu plays Bernard Granger, an unemployed actor seeking temporary salvation from the Occupation and finds an appropriate refuge in Montmartre Theatre, owned by Marion Steiner (Catherine Deneuve) whose husband Lucas, mysteriously disappears after the German restrictions on Jews. Likewise, Marion wants the theatre to operate as much as her husband does, and so with the help of the cast and crew, decides to stage a Norweigan translation amidst threats of closure from the Censors and a pesky anti-semitic journalist played by Truffaut’s friend and co-screenwriter Jean-Louis Richard (who penned the equally magnificent La Nuit Americaine).

Truffaut, whose Le Quatre Cents Coups turned out to be strikingly semi-autobiographical, returned to Le Dernier Metro as perhaps a last glimpse to who Francois Truffaut was. More of a premonition than anything else, a film that he probably intended not as the climax of a career that spanned a number of films but rather a necessary denouement to a colorful and productive years in the filmmaking industry. The movie is basically a story of an institution, like Truffaut (who, most people could claim as the pioneer in the French New Wave explosion), on the edge of inevitable downfall, saved by a kind of invisible force that somehow bears certain similarity on how Truffaut was saved by French director Andre Bazan from life of deliquency. Perhaps a personal reflection to the field he chose to traverse, the metaphors of most Truffaut films revolves on the reality of movies-the distinction being the cameras and unending reels of negatives.

While Le Dernier Metro could be considered as one of Truffaut’s best works to date (I still regard La Nuit Americaine to be the greatest of them all, to my opinion trailed by the Antoine Doinel series), it still ensconces his fondness to depict the life he chose as the major conflict to his films. We see a vignette of a subway scene, a boy lost in a crowd of ignorant commuters superimposed to deliver a sense of familiarity to the type of genre Truffaut precisely motivates. This style, reminiscent of a La Nuit Americaine scene whereas in Truffaut’s dream, a boy stealing lobby cards of Citizen Kane in a theatre justifies such incorporation. Although much of the scenes are shot within the confines of the studio built as a theatre, it subliminally reminds us of the social, political and cultural asphyxiation the Germans (or any other conquering countries during that time) imposed upon the vanquished.

Truffaut, as I have noticed also paid proper respects to films that I believe possessed major influences in his craft. Consider this, a scene whereas Raymond, the theatre’s quartermaster arrives late on one of their rehearsals and makes an excuse that his bike is stolen on his way. Granger, on his own take of comfort to his glum colleague narrates a similar tale on the bikenapping-his story (if one could sensibly discern), is the same context we see in Vittorio de Sica’s The Bicycle Thief (1949). Whether such allusion is intentional on Truffaut’s part, it achieved a certain magnitude of reverence for his work.

The film also captures a spirit of resistance that is prevalent to most French citizens during the Occupation. The whiff of derision captivates Truffaut that its prevalence allows him to put the weight of such episode on the shoulders of his main characters: Bernard Granger, who has subtle political motivations undetected by most of his colleagues; and Marion Steiner whose furtive defiance to submit to Daxiat the journalist’s Gestapo-eqsue (interrogatory) advances could have pressured the opening of the theatre in anyway. Dark it may seem to the viewer, however Truffaut successfully manages to maintain a light mood despite a foreboding backdrop. Depardieu, as Granger skillfully manipulated his character that convincing may be the appropriate and necessary adjective to coin his performance. Little I’ve seen of Catherine Deneuve’s film roles (though, I will be seeing Luis Bunuel’s Belle de Jour [1962] two weeks after I write this review), except of course, the memorable scream sequence in Roman Polanski’s Repulsion (1960), nonetheless constrained me to say Deneuve’s acting capacity to be exceptional. Additional performances by Jean Poiret as the clandestinely-homosexual director Jean-Loup Cottins; Jean-Louis Richard’s annoying portrayal of the journalist Daxiat; as well as Heinz Bennent as Marion’s husband, Lucas Steiner.

Le Dernier Metro leaves little room for complaint, in my opinion. However, film critics might consider this movie a bitter and discontented remnant of the filmic reality Francois Truffaut left with his early demise. Probably the appropriate conclusion to his career that put him in the ranks adorned with Federico Fellini, Michaelangelo Antonioni, Alfred Hitchcock, Rainer Werner Fassbinder (who, like Truffaut died at an early age) or Jean-Luc Godard. Admittedly, I like La Nuit Americaine and Le Quatre Cents Coups than this one, nevertheless it’s a Truffaut film and similarly with Alfred Hitchcock, it’s still a work of a master.

Etchie Pingol
February 16, 2004
Office of Student Affairs
University of the Philippines Manila

Irreversible?

2004-09-08T13:52:00.000-05:00

Irreversible
Directed by: Gaspar Noe
Written by: Gaspar Noe
Copyright: 2000
Released by Studio Canal
Cast: Vincent Cassel, Monica Bellucci, Albert Dupontel

I have been familiar with Irreversible (2000) since it created a stir when it was experimentally shown at the Cannes Film Festival four years ago. The audience walk-out at the start of the movie practically carved its notoriety to a degree that it wasn’t publicly released to theatres worldwide. Admittedly I was only after Monica Bellucci and the rumored violent rape scene that spanned (or so I heard) ten to fifteen minutes. Anyway, my boss lent me the DVD and tried to watch it over the evening. Even so, it somehow convinced me of the fact it is, indeed a movie not for the weak tummy. I could only sympathize with the people who were thoroughly assured of their stance when they decided to leave their seats, thus as a result achieved the type of reaction Gaspar Noe presumably anticipated.

Interestingly shallow but craftily post-produced, Noe’s austere camera work leaves the audience on a tightrope towards achieving perfect equilibrium and creating a straightforward plotflow. Irreversible is essentially a simple film: Marcus (Vincent Cassel) on the hunt for his girlfriend Alexandra’s (Monica Bellucci) rapist. He enlists the help of Alexs’s ex-husband Pierre (Albert Dupontel) on his search. From that premise, Gaspar Noe leaves the audience to weave the entirety of the story and in doing so add a cornucopia of creative (however extremely erratic) camera shots.

Technically, Irreversible is a film editor’s nightmare. Of course, we can all agree on such description. Noe’s idea of a reverse sequence is not entirely new to filmmaking. Christopher Nolan’s Memento (1999) as well as the modified reverse sequencing of Quentin Tarantino in Pulp Fiction (1995) introduced the audience to such diverse technique. Always there is a downside or a lowdown to the incorporation of this trend. It obliterates the conventionality of straightforward narration (which is the basic and simplest form of film viewing we all grew accustomed to), and most significantly it adds a weight of confusion to the development of the movie’s plot. Unlike in Memento where the story (the backward amnesia syndrome or something like that) somehow justifies the use of such method, Noe probably decided to incorporate this basically out of pretention-and perhaps to conceal the plot’s superficiality. With that, sealed the fate of the film. Tarantino in part, experimented with such style but as opposite to the audience’s reception of Irreversible, partially succeeded.

Irreversible opens with a twisting (or revolving, whatever) shot of the opening credits, followed by two naked septuagenarians absorbed in profound philosophical talk. Whatever Noe is trying to say with this sequence is completely irrelevant to the film (to my perspective, I guess). Abruptly, it cuts to a scene wherein Marcus is being escorted out from a bar in a stretcher. From hereon, the film traverses through an erratic weaving of dizzying shots. Complementing this, I believe is a stream of impromptu dialogue as if Noe made the film without any script (except, of course, the treatment) to guide him.

I watched Irreversible anticipating whether it could drive me to the same empathies the people at Cannes felt that pushed them to leave the theatre. It didn’t, but somehow led to me cringe at the very sight of Monica Bellucci being violated at the middle of the film (and it confirmed the fact that the rape scene indeed dragged ten minutes). Seriously, the film is a study of extreme violence, of Noe’s intrinsic perversions, and ultimately the appropriate channel of his fantasies.

The eroticism most people expect of Irreversible is naturally absent, except of course, to those people who finds rape to be gratifying, but I think this is presumably an understatement to Gaspar Noe’s reason to write a screenplay that discussed such debauchery. Unlike Paul Verhoeven, whose sexual preoccupations (and perhaps, his fondness for rape scenes evidently illustrated in his films Keetje Tippel, Spetters, Showgirls [1993] and recently Hollow Man [2000]) somehow demonstrated this with a fragment of arty sheen, although much resulted either in critical bashing of the film, or a triumph in erotic depiction.

Irreversible’s theme is not entirely new to the genre. Rape-revenge films trace back to most seventies B-movie gory-fests that include notable titles like I Spit on Your Grave (1971), The Last House on the Left (1975); and carried through the 80s and the 90s with the French soft-porn Baise Moi (1999). While Irreversible turns out a little tame than the aforementioned movies, it does not fail to escape the idea of sex as both an instrument of perversity and commonplace violence. Wholly, the film revolves on the fantasy side of social delinquency-the event of rape in a public subway clearly defines the laxity of the French police system while at the same time questions the reality of such an attack: who would dare attempt to assault a person in a well-lit public walkway without being noticed by a passer-by? At any point, a person with the right mind would somehow avoid passing through a deserted subway even if circumstances dictate (I could attest to this statement though).

There is little that Gaspar Noe has to prove from this film, likewise it `typed’ him as a director who harbors a penchance for unnecessary violence and the downright disturbing. In the two films he directed (I Stand Alone [1998], and Irreversible), Noe’s unsavory reputation could possibly earn him a cult following and canonical distinction.

Etchie Piñgol
March 15, 2004
Office of Student Affairs
University of the Philippines Manila

picking up samuel fuller

2004-09-07T00:35:00.000-05:00

Whatever the reason, I manage to see Samuel Fuller's Pickup on South Street (1953) three times---more than anything I've seen of an Alfred Hitchcock film (well, I saw Psycho four times, not because I wanted to, but more of an academic demand). Probably because the Criterion DVD costs that much that repeated viewings are required to compensate for the twenty-five bucks I had to shed for it. No. I don't think so. I liked the film. I liked the taste of noir that Fuller delicately topped it. Bitter. Sweet. Dark. Like chocolate. A repetition is acquiring its flavor once again.

The movie begins in an unconventional way. A wordless subway sequence, no dialogues just the mechanical reverberation of the subway train--packed with the usual rush hour pedestrian traffic. We see the pouty-lipped Jean Peters in a vacant stare, unknowingly being watched by two men who appears (and we digress) to be either a cop or a mob man. In anyway, Fuller wouldn't let us know, until, of course as the film develops. In, comes Richard Widmark, ever cool, but beneath such coolness is his cunning ability to pick pockets. Grifting, as Fuller had come to term it, perhaps more of personal need to survive than a bending of social norms. Skip McCoy does what we expect him to do: grift. Yes, he did it. Now, we are audiences to what will transpire in the next hour.

The Double Complications
Candy doesn't know what she is carrying and Skip also carries no idea of what he grifted. His struggle to survive is his main concern. Whatever the purse contains, whether significant or not, it's none of his business. He exists in the simplicity of the film, its complications are the factors that will preclude Skip from living in that perspective. He has nothing to ruminate, except to avoid being apprehended. He sure has nothing to lose. However, everything changes the moment Skip filches Candy's purse. So, what are the two complications that arises from Skip's action? (1) both Skip and Candy's naivette--and the emergence of the microfilm contends to that; (2) the question of patriotism (rebuffing the federal agent's threat of treason with "are you waving the flag at me?") or a statement of survival (Thelma Ritter's Moe saying "we all have to eat").

The McGuffin
Alfred Hitchcock defined the McGuffin as something that contributes to the build-up of suspense. It could be a certain object that both the protagonist and the antagonists wanted, or perhaps a verbal information/secret that one has to utter and send the entire story in a zigzag course. Whatever it is, it has the capacity to turn things around, gives the film an interesting premise or, reveals a particular character's color. In Pickup, the McGuffin is the microfilm that Skip unknowingly pilfered from Candy's purse. It turns out to be an important piece of formula that the communists wanted. As it also turns out, both Skip and Candy becomes the McGuffin, personified, because they both have what the `villains' in the film wanted--the microfilm and themselves.

The Wrecking Crew
Fuller vehemently denied the anti-communist sentiments Pickup on South Street evidently expressed, but it seems during that time, it could be the appropriate film to simmer under his oven. Richard Kiley supported the cast as the quiet antagonist, Candy's manipulating paramour, a devious traitor who happens to be the one who will sell the microfilm to the communists. Furthermore, he assumes Candy's absolute loyalty to him, assuring her that after this delivery, there will be no more to follow. On the other hand, on Skip's opposite side of the battle is Detective Dan Tiger (played by Murvyn Pye), seeking to put the grifter away for life, but at the same time secretly hoping of his cooperation. He is the accidental hero, in a way, cloaked as the mean head of the pickpockets division of the Force.

The Stoolie
Thelma Ritter, was, as Fuller had described in his autobiography, the first person he casted in the film. She plays Moe, an informant (though she never uses such term to describe her willingness to help), a stoolie who sells tie and information in order to buy herself a decent cemetery plot. Her ultimate dream, perhaps, that she utters "If I was to be buried in Potter's Field, it'd just about kill me". She harbors deep respect and love for Skip, "I've known you since you were a kid", and would never have given him away. Survival is her game, though for one thing is a battle already half-lost.

In the large spectrum of the American film noir industry, Pickup on South Street is a definitive example. It defies the standards of the 50s censorship with its both near unpatriotism and extreme violence (I suggest to look out for the staircase scene), that for whatever reason I really enjoyed it.

Frantic and Tantric

2004-09-06T23:57:00.000-05:00

HANA-BI (english title: Fireworks)
Written and Directed by: Takeshi Kitano
Copyright 1997
Released by: The Kitano Office and Bandai Pictures
Cast: Beat Takeshi

It started back after I read a mildly critical (yet, concised) review of Takeshi Kitano’s opus (or whatever they want to call it, I don’t care) Hana-bi (Fireworks) in a thread in Pinoydvd.com. The reviewer, in someway, managed to rate it four stars (five being his highest and possibly indicating a masterpiece), practically saying that it was Takeshi Kitano’s best work to date. I haven’t seen any of his movies when I read the review, so I guess comparison is not what in my mind at that moment. It basically made me believe that it equalled anything good in the Japanese cinema-from Akira Kurosawa to Kiyoshi Kurosawa to Takashi Miike or Yasujiro Ozu. When the Japanese Embassy through its Japan Cultural Foundation held its second Eiga Sai this year (the first was Kiyoshi Kurosawa last March-I saw Kyua during that festival) and featured six films of Takeshi Kitano in a month-long film festival at SM Megamall, UP Film Center and the Cultural Center of the Philippines, I did not hesitate to go. Besides, it’s free.

Anyway, Hana-bi’s simple plot is nevertheless simple. The only factor that contributes to its complexity is perhaps, Takeshi Kitano’s uncharacteristic method of filmmaking. From there, the film begins to transcend to a different genre and possibly reclines towards a certain distinction. The film is about a corrupt cop who robs a bank in order to pay for his debt to the Yakuza and at the same time come to grips with the reality of his wife’s incurable malady. He settles his dues and takes off to a vacation with his wife pursued by the Yakuza (who are unbelievably clever in where to track him down) and his police colleagues (who, in this case are noticeably dumb).

Hana-bi is not an easy film to watch, at least not at all watchable. It has a unique feel of allowing you to fall in its stuporous trap and eventually drag you towards manifesting a blank realization. It pushes the audience (in this manner, me and my friends who saw it) into a violent semi-consciousness, influenced by both Kitano’s fondness for unnecessary bloodbath and the `comatose-al’ effect he incorporates in the film. I will be having difficulty in explaining my definition of such experience for I’m still struggling to find myself in the rubbles of the movie’s incoherence and likewise, a personal premeditated miscomprehension. Nonetheless, I left the theatre reeling from the aftereffects of Hana-bi, shaken but not stirred (many thanks to Ian Fleming, though), a heavy cloud forming within my head. Yup, the film is similar to a dose of Tramadol or any sedative, it leaves you gasping to search for your thoughts amidst an immediate bout of temporary inability to think.

The principal factor that makes Hana-bi a distinct production is probably Kitano’s style of perpetual shots on a certain background-be it necessary/significant or unnecessary/insignificant to the development of the story. He permits the profound silence to speak for itself, meanwhile letting the audience to arrive at the point where they begin to get naturally bored or extremely close to hallucination. While this film-induced hypnosis gradually develops, it is broken by fragments of violence-and ironically, a satisfying but questionable downbeat ending will again, contribute to a recurrence of such expression. I carry plenty of questions that Kitano bequeathed me as the end credits rolled, however your thoughts are dissipated as you left your seat. It did occur to me somehow that Hana-bi diverts itself from the middlebrow Japanese cinema-a direction many of the contemporary Jap directors (Hirokazu Kore-eda, Kiyoshi Kurosawa) are currently traversing. Kitano (while we will often remember as the `king’ of the tv game show’s obstacle-ridden kingdom), prolifically makes this entrancing, yet twisted melodrama a dizzying pace to the straightforward but rapid rambling of a number of films dealing with gangsters and Yakuza.

Although a lot of people might disagree with my perception that Hana-bi deserves bagging honors in an abundance of international film festivals (Venice International Film Fest; Berlin Film Fest, etc.), initially I was also caught in the intricate and deeply philosophical or rather somnolent quality of Hana-bi, but as what I have surmised, the film hits you hours or days after you’ve seen it. It sends the viewer into the whirlpool of metaphors and perhaps, those superfluous scenes which to Takeshi Kitano has an uprooted importance. Next thing you know, you’ll be able to appreciate it one way or another-though unlike Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Kyua or Kairo-you won’t need another serving. Justifiably, indeed, that Hana-bi maybe one of Kitano’s best works-to my opinion however, my choice of films depend on how they are craftily presented. Takeshi Kitano may be the Quentin Tarantino of the Japanese cinema, manipulated the camera on his own terms; in some way defied the tradition of contemporary filmmaking technically and visually: less pretention, but with certain exaggeration. It also made me think that Hana-bi may be the overqualified arthouse film, although I believe that Takeshi Kitano will oppose such opinion.

Likewise, I will not push myself into admitting that Hana-bi is one of the greatest films I’ve seen, though I will not also consider this to be crap. I have managed to like Kyua (Cure) and Kairo (Pulse), even Kinji Fukasaku’s Battle Royale-films from the Land of the Rising Sun that successfully breached the barrier of my choice of cinema. With respect to Takeshi Kitano, I did, in a way appreciate Hana-bi-maybe because it introduced me to a discernible new method of storytelling and probably treated us to a style diverse from the usual Japanese cinema. I maybe hallucinating or whatever, but I’ll be going back this Friday to see Kitano’s other films.

Etchie Piñgol
October 1, 2003
Office of Student Affairs
University of the Philippines Manila

random thoughts on Sluizer's The Vanishing

2004-09-06T22:42:00.000-05:00

from an entry I posted in Pinoydvd:

I know I posted the same film in this thread a few months back, however since I saw the movie again for the nth time, I found some new insights. Popped George Sluizer's Spoorloos (The Vanishing) again in my dvd player last night. Arguably, it is still the best paranoid thriller I've seen in my lifetime.

Spoorloos is far different from an abundance of run-of-the-mill thrillers that came up after it. It is a character study of a man that what we consider as a sociopath. It's remake, though, has this overemphasis to the sociopath just failed miserably. It could've been successful in anyway, but since Sluizer believed that Americans prefer a fairy-tale ending, he chose the road often travelled path and paid dearly for it. Anyway, Spoorloos presents not the factors that threatened Raymond's sanity, but rather the opposite. His threats to the society are clearly magnified. He's undoubtedly intelligent (taking for example how his body would react at certain circumstances, making notes on his pulse rates, etc.), his world revolves in numbers, and from what this explains to us how his mind processes it. There is a need for something, a void that only an devilish act could somehow fill. Maybe that is what his mind demands and his environment dictates him to do.

It's not the reality that you cannot trust anybody, but the fact that anybody can be someone like Raymond Lemorne. The paranoia is read between the lines, how such a harmless person could at a single twitch of a dysfunctional brain could send a sinister message to his helpless carcass. Thus, the deed could be performed without an iota of hesitation. And that, is certainly scary.

A Puzzling Love Story

2004-09-06T00:28:00.000-05:00

Enigma
Directed by: Michael Apted
Screenplay by: Tom Stoppard
Based on the novel by Robert Harris
Copyright 2001
Released by: Columbia Tri-Star
Cast: Dougray Scott, Kate Winslet, Saffron Burrows, Jeremy Northam
Available in Region 1 DVD at Amazon.com

Historians believe that the Battle of Atlantic was the most underreported battle that took place during World War 2. Primarily because land warfare took the brunt of media coverage due to the increasing number of correspondents sent to the front lines. The war at sea, meanwhile, was left forgotten-only to those who were there to witness the conflict attested that it happened. Reportages were difficult to come by, many reporters preferred dying in Normandy, Tarawa, Iwo Jima, and Ardennes rather than disappear in the cold waters of the Atlantic or in the depths of the Pacific. It was fear that purged in the hearts of these men, especially the crews of convoys, the unknowing preys of the German ("Wolf pack") U-boats sent to sink them and deprive Great Britain and the Soviet Union of much needed supplies from the United States. Without air or sea cover, these merchant shipping convoys were merely sitting ducks from the target sights of the German submarine commanders. The only hope that kept these men alive was the effort of the British Intelligence in breaking the German submarine codes which went by the codename: Enigma.

Loosely based from Robert Harris’ novel of the same title, the film is basically…a love story set during the height of the codebreaking operations of the British at Bletchley Park. Tom Stoppard ("Shakespeare in Love") wrote the screenplay and Michael Apted ("Enough") directed the film. Dougray Scott ("MI2") played Thomas Jericho, a brilliant mathematician responsible for deciphering the German U-boat codes that eventually became known as Ultra, and at the same time recovering from a lost love that earned him a return ticket to Cambridge. The urgency of the global condition saw Tom Jericho a redeployment back to Bletchley Park, the center of the codebreaking operations of the war. The mystery of a crytogram stashed beneath a loose floor panel on the cottage of his missing loved one, Claire Romilly (Saffron Burrows) added sufficient weight to the basic conflict of the story. Tom, then sought help from Claire’s cottage mate, Hester Wallace played by Titanic star Kate Winslet, who admirably portrayed a nerdy, British country girl employed at Bletchley as an intercept clerk. As tensions grew and the climax slowly developed, we see the montage between the impending assault of German U-boats on a convoy and Hester Wallace’s attempt to decipher the codes found in Claire’s cottage.

Enigma is a comparably different from the Michael Douglas-Melanie Griffith thriller Shining Through, for it blatantly portrayed espionage on a rather, distinctive manner. Most spy films revolted on the clandestine affairs that normally transpire on enemy territory. Enigma represented these covert activities within the confines of Bletchley Park-the `spies’ unknowingly, the men and women working there. Actually, it wasn’t a typical espionage story, not your usual James Bond or MI6 thing, or rehashed from a John Le Carre novel. Tom Jericho is not your run-of-the-mill spy, but rather a man caught between his love for a certain woman and the profound interest being served by his country at war. In circumspection, the film evidently depicted the Battle of Atlantic being fought in subtle clashes; of brains magnified as mechanical beings; of men in pursuit of unbreakable codes, and the exemplary heroism and bravery these civilians endured.

Likewise, Tom Stoppard did a magnificent job of fictionalizing the discovery of the Katyn Forest massacre of Polish officers the Soviets perpetrated during the winter war of 1940. Although the incident was covered up and denied by the Soviets throughout the war to preserve the alliance Stalin pacted with the United States and Great Britain, nevertheless its discovery late in the 1940s somehow nearly severed the ties. Its incorporation in the storyline, however merely complicated the flow of the plot, but it served as the primary conflict aside from the race against time effort of the Bletchley Park crew to crack the new German U-boat codes.

Dougray Scott’s portrayal of Thomas Jericho, is nonetheless, flawed. I was expecting an Alan Turing-esque character (or a cameo, perhaps?), a man of exemplary intelligence who wouldn’t notice the budding romance between him and an intercept clerk. Though Dougray Scott performed perfectly well, his assuming a role of a goody-two-shoes nerdy mathematician somehow pulled him off the bad-guy/villainous image he exuded in John Woo’s Mission Impossible 2. Saffron Burrows as Claire Romilly, played a small part but influenced greatly in the molding of Tom Jericho. I admired Kate Winslet in this film, as Hester Wallace she delivered the part almost impeccably-the country girl dragged by Tom Jericho to solve the mystery of the coded messages they both found on Claire’s floor panels. Jeremy Northham did a remarkable acting as British Intelligence operative Wigram in pursuit of Tom Jericho regarding the disappearance of Claire Romilly and to unmask the existence of a German spy within Bletchley Park.

So many films and books were written regarding the codebreaking operations the British and the Americans undertook during the Second World War-but none of them as poignant and as distinct as Enigma. Neal Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon, Ed Harris’ Codename: Emerald and perhaps, Shining Through may have been the filmic and literary paradigms that created a major effect on the cinematization of Robert Harris’ novel. However, I haven’t read the book (though I have a copy of his non-fiction book Selling Hitler), but I’ve seen the adaptation of his other work, Fatherland that featured Rutger Hauer. In contrast, Enigma may not have the thrilling climax and the anti-climactic denouement that Fatherland have, but in terms of the dramatic elements (which I think contributed to the development of both the characters and the conflict itself) that Tom Stoppard had included in the screenplay, it overshadowed the harsh realities of global conflict.

Etchie Piñgol
© June 2, 2003
Office of Student Affairs
University of the Philippines Manila

The Reality of Fantasy

2004-09-05T22:19:00.000-05:00

Blow-Up
Directed By: Michelangelo Antonioni
Screenplay by: Michelangelo Antonioni and Tonino Guerra
Inspired by a short story by Julio Cortazar
Copyright 1966
Released by: Carlo Ponti Productions/Warner Brothers Inc.
Cast: David Hemmings, Vanessa Redgrave, Sarah Miles

I carry no reason to believe that Michelangelo Antonioni’s film Blow-Up (1966) is a great film, as opposed to film critic Roger Ebert’s claim and inclusion to his book The Great Movies. Maybe I’m just as cynical as the character Thomas exudes in the film, full of languor and deliberate sarcasm, attempting to live a life of incidental ennui and premeditated lethargy. Likewise, I can also attribute such to the fact that I haven’t seen a single Antonioni film except this. Although it’s not as bad as anyone could possibly imagine, but in my case it’s presumably a baptism that turned out pretty disappointing.

Yes. Unconsciously, that perhaps makes this film great. Well, to Roger Ebert, of course-in a sense, somehow succeeded in its primary purpose. Blow-Up is categorized as an artfilm, the description of artfilm being those that are not essential for mainstream release for qualities that goes beyond the normal quality of a typical theatrical production. There are a lot of distinctions this film radiates that its qualification in such sort maybe a consolation, after all. Antonioni, for instance is a master in this craft that Blow-Up (his first English-language film, to-be followed by The Passenger [1975], who stars a young but promising Jack Nicholson) seemed as his fitting preliminary to a range of non-Italian works.

I anticipated this movie having read Ebert’s review, of course, and somehow his article contributed to a bugging necessity to see the film-which he subtly (whatever he meant, it has a different appeal to me) insinuated as a likely amalgamation of mystery and surreality. From this impression, it enticed an uncommon compulsion to have a peek into the movie believing the greatness factor as the normal means to like it and concur to what Ebert had written. It did not. Besides I watched it once, and constrained my buttocks to stand at least two hours of filmic tediousness, marvelling (an irony, I know) how Antonioni managed to come up with such uncharacteristic masterpiece.

The film stars David Hemmings (an unknowing actor in my book) as a fashion photographer stuck in a mud of boredom and evident discontent, sporting a Beatleseque haircut, driving a Rolls convertible and perhaps, living a life uncertain if he’s happy with what he’s doing or not. Although his lifestyle may be the perfect mold of the majority of single people opt for in their continuing existence, Thomas, however is emanating the opposite. We could not pinpoint and recognize whether Thomas is pleased with how his world revolves, but there is a stark contrast as soon as he picks up his camera and starts shooting. Hence, I believe that this film is, at any point, a representation of irony.

This is further complicated when Thomas treks to a park and witnesses a couple. At this point, questions abruptly pop up: Are they fighting? Flirting? Playing? Or merely having a good time? This queries may not be for Thomas to answer (nor for the audience as Antonioni could have planned in anyway), however it is a sight to see that deciding to capture it frame by frame is precisely what he has in mind. Enter Vanessa Redgrave (the pouty lips and the checkered blouse-a mixture of concealed feminine alacrity and innate `Britishness’), the unwilling victim of Thomas’ candid excursion, caught in the Nikon (or Pentax or whatever) lens-a sedentary entrapment in a reel of negative. She goes after Thomas for the film he took of her and her companion, but when he refuses her, she follows him to his studio and uncovers herself in an attempt to seduce the troubled photographer to give her the film. He gives her the wrong roll and keeps for himself the right one. He develops the film and as it turns out what he saw in the park, may be or may not be a murder in progress…

It should’ve been a murder-mystery from this point on, exemplified the question of fantasy versus reality. What Thomas saw may be different from what his camera saw, and this is the beginning of a long journey towards achieving the appropriate answer. The answer could be found as the story develops, however, it asks us another set of complex queries-this time focused mainly on Thomas as the one investigating his discovery and not as Thomas, as merely a witness to a might-be act of misdemeanor: Is it really murder? Or a mere product of his feral imagination accentuated by his camera? It leaves the audience (us) a thing to ponder on, even as the `The End’ closing billboard appears-perhaps the `signature’ Antonioni scene whereas the character simply vanishes (according to Ebert Antonioni once said that it was taken directly from anything Shakesperean, "characters are simply spirits in a play that floats away in the end"), add a principal weight to the mystery the film tries to achieve, and eventually succeeded in achieving.

Although I managed to appreciate the film (thanks to the feature-length commentary on the DVD by Peter Brunette [author of the book, The Films of Michelangelo Antonioni]) somehow, however not in the same degree of appreciation that Roger Ebert felt about it. I could not directly point out technical flaws that might be present in the movie, but I could simply be awed by how Antonioni dissected and presented the difference between realism and fantasy, of the grittiness and lightheartedness of the film’s atmosphere. I won’t stress out the factors that made me believe that this is not a great movie (nevertheless they say that Blow-Up is similar to Antonioni’s first triumph, L`Avventura [1950]), but from what I have noticed bore utter similarities to how David Lynch manipulated mystery and Takeshi Kitano in complicating ennui.

Michelangelo Antonioni is considered to be a master in classic world cinema, a title he shares with notable personalities such as Federico Fellini, Vittorio de Sica, Luchino Visconti, Francois Truffaut, Alfred Hitchcock, Jean-Luc Godard, Alain Resnais, Robert Bresson, and Ingmar Bergman, I still possess a huge respect for him. Even though I wasn’t that much impressed with my intial (and perhaps, my only attempt to view the film) bump with Blow-Up, I still regard it as probably, a masterful and downright approach to the surreality of films that only the best director, like Antonioni, could possibly accomplish.

Etchie Pingol
March 11, 2004
Office of Student Affairs
University of the Philippines Manila