127 HOURS is an unflinching experience

Narrow spaces and a narrow story, but director Danny Boyle gives us a wide range of brilliant imagery—from shaky, digital-video footage to high-resolution textures. 127 Hours is undoubtedly, an unflinching look at a real life, grueling experience.

If you've seen the promotions or read the book the film is based on, than you'll know that this is a true story of an adventurous, free-wheeling man, Aron Ralston, played with such bravado by James Franco. The film is entirely about Aron's unfavorable predicament; his arm gets pinned under a bolder while rock climbing between the dangerous crevices of Utah's canyons.

Director Danny Boyle applies a vibrant, “hip-hop” style, integrating eye-popping split screen effects, pulse-pounding music, and subtle use of CGI (computer graphics imagery). Basically, this is just as much Boyle's film as it is Aron Ralston's true story. What I admire about 127 Hours is how the audience gets to know Aron as he reflects on his life in the midst of his injurious situation; we get to understand his strong sense of adventure and turbulent past relationships. Sometimes, when your life is on the line, and death is the next rational possibility, it makes sense to take a step back and study your own humanistic pitfalls.

While I was captivated by the film's fast-motion language and thinking about Aron's spirited nature, I couldn't help but ponder about Sean Penn's lyrical and cautionary road film, Into the Wild (2007). Both films are about characters who are seemingly bored with a 9-to-5 society, and they yearn for something more out of life; they want to taste the natural landscapes that haven't been tainted by our economic growth and real estate development. Boyle paints a gorgeous portrait of the Utah canyons, which sent me back in time when Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper road their motorcycles along similar territories in Easy Rider (1969)--the golden sunset touching along the edge of the rocky horizon, reflecting an array of red, orange, blue, and purple hues.

127 Hours builds to a moment of absolute pain and gore. However, this is not the kind of gore that you love to observe the special-effects make-up know-hows, like from a George A. Romero zombie picture, but the kind of violent content that allows you to sympathize with the central character. I'm not going to lie, it was hard to look at on the big screen, but after sticking with James Franco's character for a swift, yet tantalizing hour-and-a-half, you knew it had to be done.

127 Hours is one of the best films of the year. A perfect fit for Oscar-winner Danny Boyle's giddy and colorful, imaginative style.

**** (out of four stars)

BURLESQUE never dares to be burlesque

When I first saw the coming attractions for Burlesque, and realized it was written and directed by a single filmmaker, Steve Antin, I thought to myself, it will either be really good or really bad. Well, I hate to say it, but the latter preconceived notion won. What should have been a joyous, campy and kinky occasion, comes together to be no more than a mainstream, made-for-MTV movie. Burlesque is a poor excuse for a musical; its only intent is to provide a glitzy showcase for Christina Aguilera, who can’t act nearly as well as she can sing. I initially thought Maria Carey couldn’t act, but it goes to show you—when a good director like Lee Daniels is behind a project, Carey busted out a truly natural and realistic portrayal as a social worker in Precious (2009). Perhaps down the road, Christina Aguilera will acquire a decent acting coach, or an acting coach altogether, to help deliver a performance worth investing in, or at least a decent delivery of dialogue. Those who’ve seen Cabaret (1972), or are very familiar with Bob Fosse’s weird and wonderful stage manners and meticulous choreography, will certainly notice how the director and choreographer of Burlesque literally lifted off the opening dance routine and surreal atmosphere of Cabaret; right from the circus-looking women with clichéd bowler hats, to the recognition of the band in the background, to the performers leeching together in a sexy, yet want-to-be risqué manner. Now, I’m all for influences from other films. I love it when a filmmaker rips-off a particular scene they absolutely adore and somehow reinvent it in their own material. Hence, lies the problem with Burlesque; the filmmaker forgot to reinvent the opening dance routine of Cabaret, and instead, created an updated, carbon-copy, which the director just wanted to see on celluloid—bowler hats and all. The story is your run-of-the-mill girl leaves small town in search for stardom in a big city. We see this numerous times, and by now, I’m sick of it. Christina Aguilera’s character is living in a dumpy motel room, looking for a job as a singer and dancer. She comes across a so-called “burlesque” nightclub on sunset strip in Los Angeles, owned by the headstrong Cher, and helped managed by Stanley Tucci. Unfortunately, a corporate mogul is trying to buyout the underground hangout, which doesn’t have any appeal, except to refer to great cinematic hotspots like the Kit-Kat Club in 1930s Germany in Cabaret. The inept love story and pointless plot is as predictable as a car driving through a tunnel on a one-way street; you know where it will come out. However, a predictable storyline is okay as long as the film has something else to offer, which it doesn’t, except for Christina Aguilera’s screen presence and popular voice. She’s talented, I’ll give her that, but if I wanted hear her music or watch her dance, I would’ve bought her latest album or turned on MTV, rather than pay a ticket for Burlesque. Earlier this week I heard a film critic refer to Burlesque as a fun, “campy” musical movie. Fun—it depends on your personal taste, but campy—it certainly was not. When I think of “campy,” I think of Mommie Dearest (1981), Evil Dead II (1987), Showgirls (1995), or Valley of the Dolls (1967). I’m not afraid to admit it, I’m a big fan of camp trash—it’s a genre all on its own, I think. Hell, I even think that Showgirls was a notch better than anything Burlesque had to offer. I mean, any studio that attempts to a produce a 50 million dollar exploitation movie like Showgirls, understands the humor that makes campy filmmaking worth indulging in. As far as I’m concerned, Burlesque is like a cheaply home-made dress that your mother insists you wear for prom night; it saves money and has all the right elements for the occasion, but once you show up, you really wish that you just bought the damn thing in a store. *1/2 (out of four stars)

THE SOCIAL NETWORK.....a rebel with a laptop

The Social Network is a fascinating look at the creation and legal dilemmas surrounding the ever-present Facebook. The film moves at a lightning-fast pace, covering a multitude of relationships, legal issues, messages, and themes. The filmmakers took a true story and used it as a backdrop to reflect on our current social hierarchies. When I first heard about this film I didn’t really see a compelling story. It felt more like a 60 Minutes interview than anything else, but leave it up to a great script and strong director to visualize this computer-orientated material. Typically, director David Fincher won’t tackle a project unless it has a buzz on it, so hot—it drops on the lap of every major agent in Hollywood. I wasn’t sure how the filmmakers were going to setup the dramatic arch of such a computer-bound narrative, and then it hits you twenty minutes into the film; reveal the story slightly out of chronological order, based on the specific legal elements. I'm not saying it wouldn’t be fascinating to watch the eventful rise and fall of a young adult’s hubris in the order it actually happened, but sometimes, a narrative works a little better if the structure is tweaked—crafted in a way that better serves the character dynamics. I’m not going to lie, a second viewing won’t hurt. The combination of intelligent, argumentative dialogue and thematic understandings of success is so layered, I’m sure I missed out on a few important messages. Sometimes, when you tend to focus on how well a film is shot and crafted, it’s hard to concentrate on the details of the story, along with the rapid-fire dialogue. When I first posted my Facebook profile in 2004, I was attending the University of Hartford in Connecticut. This was when Facebook was still relatively new and didn’t include all of the features such as the shared wall, chat, and certain privacy settings. In fact, it was still oriented towards college kids with an “edu” email address. What differentiated Facebook from other friend sites, such as Friendster and My Space, was its exclusivity. It started out in Harvard, but before long, it branched out to every university across the globe. This exclusivity leads to Facebook’s best innovation. When you’re in college, besides getting good grades, what are most students in search for? Answer: a relationship. I think facebook’s bold venture allowed students to see what other students who wanted to get laid, wanted a boyfriend or girlfriend, was already in a relationship with so-and-so, or was just looking for friendship. A single website gave you all of these options and allowed people to put themselves out there and network with others according to their own priorities—whether it was to start a club or look for a one night stand. Now, Facebook is universal, open to all, and the exclusivity is out of the picture, and it’s the dollars that matters. The Social Network follows the cynical, somewhat misanthropic, computer rebel, Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), who created one of the largest computer websites in the world. His best friend and Harvard roommate, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), is his so-called partner in funding and establishing his new website. Along the way to success, Zuckerberg befriends a Californian connection, Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), who invented the widely used Napster music program. According to the film, Zuckerberg stole the Facebook idea from two, buffed-out, Harvard elite twins and cheated them on their original idea. This and many other legal infringements lead to a multimillion dollar lawsuit. This goes to show you, when the economy is down and a lot of money is involved, friendships will be betrayed, egos will be conflicted, and entitlement will be the name of the game. Jesse Eisenberg, a strong Jewish-looking actor pinpoints this character as much as he nails the timing of the razor-sharp dialogue. He understands this young, ambitious individual. Zuckerberg really isn’t a bad guy or as rebellious as he comes off. He’s a man of strong principles, even when those principles betray the ones around him. He believes that the one who created is the one who is credited. Well, in this fiercely competitive American society, where lawyers, agents, and government officials run the game, Zuckerberg is really just a pawn. Even when his points come across as valid, there are certain principles in society, which undermine his own, and the only way to save his reputation is to play the game his own lawyers conduct. When all is said and done, Zuckerberg is still just a young man who wants to be accepted. He comes off as a rebel, but in a key scene where his new, party-animal friend, Sean Parker, gets arrested at a frat party, his image is suddenly tarnished. We finally see that his reputation means a lot more than his credit. This is a prime example as to why this character works—it’s three dimensional, and by the end, Zuckerberg’s personality backfires on the audience’s expectations. I think one of the film’s strongest themes is social elitism. The film questions the importance of elitism in a university, which is bound to its social upbringing, more so than a student’s GPA, at least I speculate. In the scene where the Harvard twins are in a rowboat competition at a prestigious English school, director Fincher blurs out the edges of the frame in certain close-up shots. The rowboat scene is understated by Trent Reznor’s (lead singer for Nine Inch Nails) tantalizing and operatic score, which goes to show you that music can reveal a whole new level to a scene. The overall understanding I received from that masterly shot-and-edited scene is that Fincher is both revealing and mocking the students’ focal point and sheer determination to be accepted in Harvard’s elite social circle. This is as far as I’m going to delve into the narrative. As you can see, it covers a lot of ground and David Fincher’s craft is in top form. Checkout The Social Network and I guarantee you’ll have your own thematic understanding of this entertaining true story. ***1/2 (out of four stars)

trick "r" treat, LET ME IN

Horror fans mark this one on your calendar. Both elegant and chockfull of gore, Let Me In is a remake done right. Well, I can’t really hold to comparison because I’ve only watched the first twenty minutes of the Swedish hit, Let the Right One In (2008). Unfortunately, it was dubbed in English, (a nightmare in itself) so I turned it off. Anyways, back to the American adaptation, Let Me In, filmmaker Matt Reeves, fresh off the gimmicky Cloverfield (2008), shows a little mastery in direction. Honestly, I didn’t really care for the apocalyptic, monster invasion, Cloverfield. Perhaps if it came out before the whole found-video-shaky-footage rave, it would’ve caught my attention, but at the time, the concept seemed tiring. Let Me In is a unique vampire film about the unlikely friendship between a bullied, 12 year-old boy, Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee) whose parents are in the middle of a divorce, and a mysterious girl, Abby (Chloe Moretz) that also happens to be a vampire. They meet outside in the snow-covered apartment complex, and the curious boy, always peeping out his bedroom window, is wrapped up in the mystery of his new friend and her older caretaker (Richard Jenkins). The director keeps the perspective towards the boy’s point-of-view. When he sits down for dinner with his mother, the camera never cuts to her face. In fact, she’s mostly seen out-of-focus in the frame or seen in a distance, which cleverly expresses her absentee presence as a parent. This notion sets-up the framework for the boy’s new-found relationship, considering he learns a little life skills from a girl vampire. Let Me In holds onto the same mythology of old vampire movies (burning sunlight, thirst for blood, sleeping in coffins), but never goes overboard with the genre conventions. Reeves tries to take this story as seriously as possible. It doesn’t poke fun at the genre or execute messy set-pieces of vampire violence. No, I’m afraid, non-stop violence fans, that the gruesomeness isn’t senseless; it serves the characters, the narrative, and the gorgeously lit atmosphere. Along with the fresh take on the vampire genre, Let Me In is expertly photographed. In the scene outside the apartment complex, where the two friends meet by the snow-covered jungle-gym, the surrounding lights give the images a hard-orangey hue. There were also times when the cinematographer doesn’t completely block the lighting, letting in an ominous ray of metallic blue across the frame, which serves as a recurrent visual motif. Furthermore, in another fantastically shot scene where the unidentified guardian of the vampire attempts to dispose of a body in a half-frozen creek, the contrast between the snow and the dark night is so heavy that it almost looks as though it was shot in black-and-white. Shooting in snow-covered surroundings adds a crisp aesthetic, which is unlike filming in any other type of weather condition. Now, for the best part of the cinematography—the gruesomeness and blood-dripping gore is ironically a beauty to behold. There is no shock value here; it’s just shocking how much blood there is when you suddenly forget you’re watching a vampire movie, along with an absorbing tale about childhood friendships, hardships, bullying, and curiosity. Kodi Smit-McPhee is a child actor I’m going to enjoy watching grow up. He portrays a shy, pasty-looking dork, but at the same time, still remains utterly cool. One of my favorite scenes is where he puts on a record for Abby and slyly grooves to the 70s tune, trying to impress her. Come on, who hasn’t tried to impress a person they’ve had a crush on with their favorite brand of music? Well, I have, and so naturally that little humanistic scene stuck with me long after the screening. Child performances in films of such darkness can be difficult to swallow. However, McPhee gives a remarkable performance of such subtlety and aloofness, I could easily identify with him. Let Me In builds to a conclusion I sensed was coming. It didn’t matter though. How the scene was visualized by Matt Reeves was still a shock to me; my heart was literally racing with adrenaline. All I can say is this—sometimes it’s what you don’t see that brings out the most suspense. I know I can be a snob and completely disapprove of horror remakes (because American audiences can’t read), but I think it’s hard to deny that this is still a great horror film with a unique, improbable relationship. Let Me In doesn’t spell out every detail to the audience. The director provides many nuances, which hints about the mysterious relationship between Abby and her older companion. Is he Abby’s father, brother, a childhood friend, or a sadistic individual obsessed with vampires? Who knows exactly? Sometimes, it’s the mystery that makes it all the more interesting. Overall, I enjoyed this moody little creeper of a keeper. Let Me In anytime, well, probably not during the day. ***1/2 (out of four stars)

NEVER LET ME GO is jewel of a film

I was in awe of the visual overtones in this gorgeously made film. Deep, subtle, beautiful and cryptic--Never Let Me Go is sure to instigate profound conversations after the screening. Like Dead Man Walking (1995) and Million Dollar Baby (2004) there’s a social morale buried under this sumptuous love story. The film follows the friendship of three children growing up in a tightly-secured boarding school in Britain, beginning in 1978. They are cutoff from the outside world; a life without a choice, but a life with a designated focus. The story spans almost three decades, following them from childhood to adulthood. The surroundings are ever constant, even though the film follows them for three decades. I would love to reveal what these special individuals are modeled and raised for, but giving away that revelation wouldn’t be fair to the viewers. I must say, it’s a very unique premise; one that gives the audience a very improbable connection between images and content. Never Let Me Go struck a nerve. I felt for these characters, very deeply. I wanted them to realize what these young and loving individuals could’ve achieved in the world they grew up in. They were brainwashed into thinking they were isolated from everyone else, but in reality, there were no boundaries. They could’ve escaped from the life they were brought-up in and should’ve rebelled from the establishment. Angry, sad, sweet, longing, optimistic—I love it when a film channels these ambivalent emotions and allows me to ponder about an alternate direction for the characters to venture into. If a film does that, then it must work. After viewing this movie, I’m very curious about picking up the novel to see how the filmmakers translated the descriptions into these picturesque images. My guess is that the book is written on the same lines as The Horse Whisperer—with deft metaphors and rich characterizations. As much as I wanted closure to the narrative, I think the film does a great justice by leaving the audience in the dark. It gives the viewer more room to think, and it stimulates an array of intelligent inquiries. Never Let Me Go dares the viewer to look beyond the beautiful imagery and delicate character interrelationships, and discover a multitude of hidden meanings and themes. Above all, this is an exquisitely crafted tale about love, loss, individuality, and the boundaries of life. ***1/2 (out of four stars)

Ben Affleck calls the shots in THE TOWN

Quentin Tarantino once said about making his first film, Reservoir Dogs (1992), that it’s safer to work in a subgenre, like a heist film, than to tackle a broad genre, such as horror, comedy, crime, or western. A heist film is a subgenre of the crime genre. Other subgenres would include mobster films, screwball comedies, and slasher films. Basically, it’s a genre that’s a little more concentrated than what a thriller or a comedy would offer. That is exactly what Ben Affleck, the co-writer, director, and star of The Town utilizes here. I’d have to say, nobody can paint the small hoods of Boston better than someone who grew up there. Sure, The Town lacks the cerebral narrative construction of Reservoir Dogs and the extensive character development of Michael Mann’s Heat (1995), but Affleck’s The Town delivers the goods, bottom line. After I walked out of the theater I wasn’t sure if this film was worthy of three stars or an extra half a star, just for relentless entertainment. By the time you finish reading this review, you’ll notice my answer at the very bottom. Ben Affleck plays Doug MacRay, an ex-con and bank thief, part of a tight crew of criminal misfits, growing up in Charleston, a close-knit town, most likely on the grubby side of Boston. The gang of thieves is under tight scrutiny by FBI agent, Adam Farley, played by Mad Men’s Jon Hamm. His best friend growing up and trusted partner-in-crime, James Coughlin, is a trigger-happy cowboy played by the Oscar-nominated actor, Jeremy Renner. I really hope that Renner doesn’t get typecast as these macho, adrenaline-seeking characters, but what can I say, he’s got the perfect look, build, and edgy attitude to deliver these kinds of action performances. I just think that after The Hurt Locker (2009) he should explore more intimate and in-depth portrayals. The opening robbery jumpstarts the film into overdrive and the energy never lets up. The errors of the bank heist call for extreme measures; it involves a hostage situation where the gang kidnaps the bank manager, Claire, played by Rebecca Hall. Who would’ve thought that the victim would lead to a love affair with one of the robbers? Affleck’s character eventually falls for Claire, and after foreseeing his inevitable downfall as a criminal, he tries to find a way to turn his life around. Like most criminal characters, escaping a dangerous lifestyle leads to stepping on others’ toes. The Town is an entertaining heist film mixed with the authentic flavor of the Boston hoods. Affleck’s directorial achievement is well-done, well-executed, well-acted, and contains one terrific set-piece after another. My only problem with The Town is that I’ve seen this type of heist film before, specifically with Heat, which I think, is one of the best heist films ever made, next to The Asphalt Jungle (1950). The Town covers the same grounds as Heat, except there are fewer dots to connect in the plot. 125 minutes flies by incredibly quickly, like a shot of adrenaline pumping through the plot in a swift pace. However, I could sense the beginning action sequence before the credits appear, and pictured the resolution before the grand slam finale started rolling. Besides the predictable nature of the plot, this is pure entertainment. The excitement and array of flawless performances make up for what I’ve already seen in similar heist films. I remember reading the promotional reviews for The Town on the newspaper ad, and a critic said, “It’s Heat meets The Departed.” Well, those of you who’ve seen Heat will certainly notice the similarities, but just because The Town takes place at the same location as The Departed (2006), doesn’t mean you’re going to walk into the same cinematic experience. I need to make this perfectly clear; Boston, LA, New York—it doesn’t matter the location, The Departed takes place in Martin Scorsese’s universe and no one else’s. Sure, somebody else wrote the sensational cop-and-gangster drama, but once Scorsese gets involved, it transforms into his own directorial vision. I can’t say that Ben Affleck has established himself as an auteur director. There isn’t a distinct taste that says I’m walking into a Ben Affleck film and no one else’s. Perhaps down the road he’ll achieve what other prominent actor-turned-directors have accomplished, specifically Clint Eastwood (Mystic River, Unforgiven), Sean Penn (Into the Wild), and Ron Howard (Frost/Nixon, A Beautiful Mind). Let’s not forget that Play Misty for Me (1971) was Eastwood’s first directorial effort, and it took him almost twenty years until he could shine as a gifted talent in Unforgiven (1992). Affleck’s first foray in the director chair, Gone Baby Gone (2007), was a milestone more ambitious than Play Misty For Me, and who knows, maybe in less than twenty years he’ll bloom into a gifted auteur. Widely-receptive and hardworking actors spend a plethora of time on the film set, working with a variety of talented directors. I think it’s safe to say that actors have some of the best training in filmmaking. Ben Affleck has already received an Oscar for screenwriting (Goodwill Hunting), maybe directing will be his next statue. With that in mind, Affleck does an overall, excellent job at co-writing, directing, and acting in this action-packed heist drama. Box office receipts are in line with the critical response—don’t miss it! ***1/2 (out of four stars)

LEBANON is an intense tank ride

Lebanon concerns the Israeli and Lebanese conflict in 1982, told from the point-of-view of an army tank. The film keeps the perspective inside the tank, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere, never letting us breath fresh air for ninety minutes of screen-time. This film is similar to The Hurt Locker (2009), in that it doesn’t contain a political message, but instead, offers the viewer with an intense experience of common warfare. We see the vast destruction and horrid carnage the weapons attached to the tank produce, and also see how protected they are compared to the soldiers on-foot. The filmmakers don’t waste any time setting up the scenario and immerses the viewer right into the elliptical focal point of the young men driving the tank. The ill-trained soldiers see the scared civilians and hostile enemies shown in a magnified close-up with a target in the middle of the frame, and they sense the people of Lebanon staring right back at them. Paranoid, hot, sweaty, nauseous—they are shutout from the outside world, yet have the power to cause the greatest destruction to their surrounding environment. This is a job they wish they never had. The first forty-five minutes depicts a brilliant, militant experience. A rush of adrenaline is felt through every striking image. The filmmakers are very clever in establishing the atmosphere. Dark liquids and dripping sweat is a recurrent visual motif inside the killing machine. There’s a murky puddle of water on the floor of the tank, and in the beginning, it seems clean and calm, not a single cigarette butt or a ripple, for that matter. Towards the end, the filmmakers explore the destructive elements of the invasion by showing the damage and utter mess inside the tank. Soup croutons, soda cans, cigarette butts, mechanical leakage, smoke, and a prisoner of war occupy the limited areas. Another attribute I enjoyed about the film was that you never see the exterior of the tank, which confuses the distance between the drivers point-of-view and the targets they’re locking in on. Unless I’ve read about periscope lenses or actually have been inside a tank myself, I would have no idea how far I am from my external targets. However, after about the first hour, I kept waiting for a new development in the narrative. I enjoyed the realistic perspective inside the tank, but now I wanted the scenario to backfire on me—surprise me, which I wasn’t. It’s one of those films that strives for greatness, like the Hurt Locker was, but in this case, I wanted the dangerous elements to both explore and expand the narrative beyond what the first forty-five minutes had to offer. I can’t say it’s a bad film because it’s very well-done, but it’s more of a tease. The movie left me wanting more than the rip-roaring experience the filmmakers brought to the table, but for what it is, it’s a tank worth driving. *** (out of four stars)

ANIMAL KINGDOM is one of the best films of the year

Animal Kingdom, the award-winning Sundance favorite, is about a young teenager’s survival in a family of dysfunctional sociopaths, headed by the diabolic, ringleader mother. The film opens with the main character, “J” (Josh), calling an ambulance for his biological mother who overdosed on heroin. He passively observes the paramedics checking his mother for vital signs, while glancing back and forth at the television program. Initially, the audience senses that the youngster is desensitized to a corrupt lifestyle. He calls his grandmother, Janine, played by Jacki Weaver, and is deceptively welcomed with open-arms to live with her and his four uncles, all of whom are born and bred criminals. Animal Kingdom has been labeled as a crime movie, but it’s much more than that. Sure, it touches on classic criminal celluloid, such as cops, robbers, drug dealers, corruption, but mostly it’s about a bizarre family of criminals and the lost child trying to survive his teenage years as normally as possible. His only living proof of a normal existence is his teenage girlfriend, Nicky, whom he attaches himself to. After an act of violence occurs between the cops and one of his uncles, he spends more time at Nicky’s parents’ house, hoping to become accepted into their family. Substitute parenting is an important theme in the film. When two cops windup dead, J becomes the prime target of an investigation, headed by the incredible, Guy Pearce. At this point, the teenager becomes a threat to his own family and a victim of terrible circumstances. The film is crafted in a subtle manner, but the threat of danger is ever present. The writer and director, David Michod, has a keen sense for building tension; the film works by the absence of pretentious camera movements and an overwhelming score. The filmmaker brings as much realism to the scenarios as possible, saying, that these vicious crimes are committed by ordinary people, some of whom are posing as law-abiding officials. This is a modestly-budgeted film, meaning that most of the camerawork is handheld. Now, even though I am a big fan of stylish films with kinetic camerawork, it doesn’t mean it always works for the story. The writer/director of Animal Kingdom is very aware of what kind of style is best suited for this juicy story. I was reminded of other recent Sundance hits, such as Winter’s Bone (2010), Sin Nombre (Without a Name-2009), and Frozen River (2008), where the conflict of the central character was organically thrilling to the narrative, and the film as a whole. Gritty realism can easily out-win pretentious style, especially when the filmmakers know they have a compelling story to tell. The primary reason I loved Animal Kingdom was because there was so much psychological and sociological depth to the family portrayal. Pay careful attention, and you’ll notice how the profound elements are nicely interwoven in the subtext of the performances and direction. The film lured me into the young teenager’s dilemma. I sympathized with his emotional pain and empathized with his own violent tendencies, which ironically mimic the criminal lifestyle he was trying to escape. Jacki Weaver gives a riveting and layered performance as the conniving, mama-knows-best ringleader. Her devilish, on-screen presence is reminiscent of Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane (1962) or Ruth Gordon in Rosemary’s Baby (1968). She is absolutely sizzling! Animal Kingdom builds to a jaw-dropping conclusion, an unexpected sucker-punch to the face, and it’s a knockout! This is one of the best films of the year and not to be missed. **** (out of four stars)

GOING THE DISTANCE is too far for comfort

I kept telling myself, okay, it is what it is, and it works on some level. I wanted to believe, Justin Long and Drew Barrymore have chemistry, and the two leads can save the tiresome string of profane one-liners. I’m going to go easy on it. It’s fun and friendly and appeals to your average moviegoer. Forget it, halfway through, I changed my mind. That’s it! I’m going to rip this film a new one. Going the Distance is a formulaic piece of mediocre garbage. I didn’t laugh. I swear, not once. Not even the faintest smile. This is your average, goofy comedy; nothing romantic about it, nothing comedic about it. The dialogue is so geared to the one-liners, I kept wondering, are these actors trying for improvisation, or did someone actually write this? What this script needed, since it didn’t want to work the romantic angle, was a golden comedic talent, such as Will Ferrel, Steve Carrel, or Tina Fey. Sure, Christina Applegate is a wonderful comic actress, but the jokes are worse than eating a bag of stale corn nuts. The humor is so sophomoric they might as well change it to a Van Wilder sequel. What the film is about? Well, you know, boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, their distance gets in the way, and well, they work it out somehow. I’ve seen this kind of formula before, so many times. Every now and then, the performances and humor can rise above the material, but in this case, the formula outweighs the talent. The only way this film would've worked is if the love affair seemed real on-screen. I wasn’t sold by the chemistry between the two leads, even if they are dating in real life. So, consequently, the rest of the film can’t work, and doesn’t. A goofy bore, that’s all I can say. Save your money and rent 500 Days of Summer (2009) , which is a playful, refreshing romantic comedy; a sincere observation of an offbeat relationship. 500 Days of Summer is the opposing force of studio trash like Going the Distance. There, I feel better. * (out of four stars)

PIRANHA 3-D Doesn't Bite Hard Enough

Piranha 3-D certainly has a sharp sense of humor, but the exploitation elements are blatantly overwhelming and preposterous at times. Sure, the film knows what it is and doesn’t try to be more than the fun, B-like horror film it wants to be, but it has a difficult time mixing the comedic and horror elements. Overall, Piranha spends more time exploiting the stars, exploiting big-breasted women, exploiting the college-party lifestyle, exploiting the over-the-top gore, exploiting CGI (Computer Graphics), and don't forget, cashing-in on the ridiculous 3-D gimmick. Instead of inverting these concepts into a clever goodtime, the content remains utterly EXPLOITIVE, no more and no less, rather than standing as a cool homage to the original, and B-horror cinema in general. The fact that this film doesn’t use stop-motion or complex make-up effect takes the charm away from the B-horror effect. Roger Corman produced the first Piranha (1978) to cash-in on the whole Jaws-rave of the mid-to-late seventies. In addition, the original Piranha had a witty script written by the independent maverick, John Sayles, and at times, was truly frightening. This new Piranha is all-around silly. Some of my favorite B-horror films were made by writer-director Frank Henenlotter, a genius at combining horror with comedy, along with some very inventive stop-motion effects. He wrote and directed such cult, B-horror classics as Basket Case (1982), Brain Damage (1987), and Frankenhooker (1990). These films came out before the CGI craze, and are a good reminder as to why CGI ruins the charm of stop-motion or make-up effects. When the audience sees that a certain effect is created by a computer, it’s really hard to ponder the gory creation, or how inventive the director had to be in order to create an in-camera effect. I think there are some instances where CGI is absolutely necessary, but today, I think special effects artist depend too much on it. Sometimes, CGI can really take me out of the realm of the cinematic experience, and the illusion is completely ruined. Most importantly, Piranha 3-D is not an original creation; it’s your run-of-the-mill remake. Question: How many remakes do the studios manufacture every year? Answer: So many, I just stopped counting. ** (out of four stars)

JEAN-MICHEL BASQUIAT: THE RADIANT CHILD is Captivating

Basquiat’s artwork transcended the culture of the streets, circa 1980. He started out as a graffiti artist and rapidly become one of the world’s coolest underground painters. The interview footage, if you’ve never seen clips of Jean-Michel Basquiat, puts the viewer into the perspective of his artwork, and conveys how is ideas were partly influenced from past artists, partly his immediate emotions, and wholly groundbreaking. He became known for crossing out words on the canvas, which indirectly strengthened the meaning of his avant-guard, street poetry. Basquiat was an innovative painter who was ahead of his time. His drive was about being totally original; that is, the very best, when it came to originality. As far as a documentary, Jean-Michel Basquiat: the Radiant Child, works well. As soon as the director presents the eventful rise and fame of the subject, the film takes a righteous step back to discuss Basquiat’s background and influences. In addition, documentaries about a single subject should never depict a person’s life in chronological order; it becomes more like a Barbara Walter’s special, and we don’t want that. I think the audiences's predilection for this film will depend on their fascination for the subject at hand; the chaotic life of an artist, the rise and fall of a famed celebrity. I absolutely adore these stories. They usually start and finish the same, but sometimes, events take the turn for the worse, and the icon dies at a very young age. Jean-Michel Basquiat was only 27 when he died of a hot-heroin overdose. Fame, fortune, and loneliness drove his drug addiction to an unbearable end. When you hear these stories, sometimes these celebrities make it, and sometimes, they never get to live long enough to tell it themselves. Always pray for their recovery. Basquiat’s work might have become more famous as a result of his death, but there’s never a price too high for a persons life; not fame, fortune, or history in the making. I think the strength of documentary filmmaking deals primarily with the subject. If the viewer is drawn to the central figure, then it’s really hard to objectively critique the way a documentary is filmed. Personally, I don’t think The Radiant Child provides strong enough direction, but more importantly, a strong passion for the subject, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and it certainly shows. The Radiant Child lacks the spontaneity and hipness of Exit through the Gift Shop (2010), but any art lover, interested in the short, yet successful life of Basquiat, will certainly enjoy this documentary. Basquiat was so daring and conceptual with his work, that when he wanted to explore a traumatic event from his childhood, he would literally paint in the manner of a five year-old child . A child; he was far from it. Radiant; he was above and beyond. ***1/2 (out of four stars)

Angelina Jolie Kicks Some Ass in SALT

The protagonist is wrongfully accused for a crime she hasn’t committed yet. This formula is similar to the exciting, futuristic adventure, Minority Report (2002), and similar storylines have dated back since Hitchcock’s classic, North by Northwest (1959); the hero, who’s wrongfully accused, and in Salt’s case, so we think so. The hero, Evelyn Salt, plays like a cross between Jason Bourne and MacGyver. CIA operatives are always in way over their head, and they are always involved in convoluted plots, which deal with national terrorism. However, this is an action movie cooked very well, and an action hero whose dual intentions keep you guessing until the very end. Salt doesn’t play too long nor too loud, like most recent action films, but has the right amount of ingredients, including terrific stunts, spectacular chase sequences, violence, and plot twists. We’ve seen this type of action movie before, specifically with the Jason Bourne films, but if it works for Matt Damon, then why can’t it work for Angelina Jolie? Salt is presented as a CIA operative who’s accused of being a mole for an elite, underground Soviet circle. From there, the chase is on, and the audience has to guess-- is Evelyn Salt with us or against us? Well, this is the hero of the film, who’s occupied a plethora of billboards and buses, so I think it’s easy to figure out what kind of character she is, but how she gets there, and why, is a better reason to invest in this character. Sure, the action defies the laws of gravity, and Jolie looks a bit too slender to be kicking so much ass, but let your inhibitions loose and you’ll find that Salt is a rollicking good time. Salt lacks the brilliant imagination and strong visual style as Spielberg’s Minority Report, but it thrusts the viewer right into the central character’s dilemma with just the right amount of kinetic energy. I really hope that Hollywood doesn’t go overboard with this film and turn it into a multi-million dollar franchise, until Salt becomes a manufacturing machine for a string of tired-old sequels. I think Salt works well on its own and doesn’t need a continuation, unless the story dives into uncharted territories, rather than try to multiply the amount of stunts, chases, and violence. *** (out of four stars)

Yale's favorite film of all time is.............

Sometimes, when I have difficulty falling asleep, I’ll think of Bernard Hermann’s jazzy score, and the soothing sound of the saxophone will lay my mind to rest. The surreal images of Travis Bickle’s dark perspective of the gritty streets of New York remain a visual wonder. The opening scene in Taxi Driver (1976) is an extreme close-up of Travis Bickle’s paranoid eyes, eerily glancing back and forth, which intercuts to his vibrant, yet hellish perspective. The image of the taxi cab represents a vessel into Bickle’s disturbed mind; he glides through the steam rising out of the sewers and through the colorful reflections of the streets. The opening images establish the bold color palette of a master painter; shades of red, blue, green, and yellow softly meld into a visual orgy.

Visually and aurally, Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver remains the most daring piece of artistry ever conceived on 35mm film. Every camera movement, edit, sound design, and slow-motion shot is felt, not just seen, through every frame of cinematic brilliance. You can sense the master at his fingertips. Why is Taxi Driver the greatest film ever made? I can watch it over and over again, and I’ll channel on different aspects of the film.
When Scorsese was shooting the film the crew members were baffled as to why he would pan the camera the opposite way of the moving subject. In the scene where De Niro’s character parks his cab and walks out of the garage, the camera does a 180 degree pan the opposite way, and then stops back at the actor as he takes another look at the garage. There’s a specific reason to this simple, yet daring camera movement. Visually, the director is saying, that even though the camera doesn’t follow him within the moving frame, everything is seen through the character’s perspective, going to, and coming away from him. In fact, majority of the film is seen through Travis Bickle’s eyes.
In another scene, Travis is talking on a pay phone to Cybill Shepard’s character, Betsy, the camera tracks across to the empty, adjacent hallway, which is a clever metaphor of expressing Travis’s ultimate loneliness. Lastly, another memorable camera feature is when the director places the actor on a moving dolly as he glides toward the bouncer, inside the bordello. The image gives the viewer an urgent feeling, rushing to the bouncer, which foreshadows their bloody encounter at the same location. Taxi Driver is filled with audacious camera movements, which have influenced an entire generation of maverick directors, including Spike Lee, Paul Thomas Anderson, and Quentin Tarantino.
In the beginning of the film, Scorsese uses a variety of overhead shots, which include the concession items at the porn theater, paperwork cluttered on the desk at the taxicab office, and paperwork scattered on Betsy’s desk at the campaign headquarters. As the film progresses and Travis’s insanity gradually becomes apparent, the director cuts to a series of overhead shots of Travis’s newly acquired guns. The items viewed become more deadly, but ironically, the arrangements are more structured. At the same time, Travis’s body gets in better shape, and his bizarre routines provides him with the structure he thinks he needs. At this point, his delusions become a violent reality.
Robert De Niro’s implosive portrayal as Travis Bickle represents a man’s total alienation from society. We’re never clear as to what he endured in Vietnam, but the audience certainly senses his traumas, by his sketchy behaviors. He can’t sleep nights, obsessed with weapons, and isn’t too keen on acting normal in a society, which, he thinks, is based on clicks, populism, music, movies, and politics. Why isn’t his voice heard? Why is Senator Palentine heard and Travis kept in the dark? Why aren’t porn movies the norm for a date night if they're present all over the city? How are the police doing their job if pimps, drug pushers, and prostitutes still roaming the streets of New York? These inquiries are never heard in De Niro’s sincere voiceover, but are certainly worked in the subtext of his performance.
Many films have tried to emulate this one-of-a-kind character, such as Edward Norton in Down in the Valley (2005), and Sean Penn in The Assassination of Richard Nixon (2004), but none of them are able to provide strong enough direction to make this sordid kind of character believable. You can sense the mental anguish and emotional turmoil Paul Schrader went through when he wrote this personal screenplay. The combustible relationship of script and screen makes Taxi Driver a powerful journey into the heart of a madman.

EAT PRAY LOVE.......whatever

Eat Pray Love is about a depressed woman, whose romantic pratfalls lead her to venture off across the Atlantic, hoping to rediscover herself. She leaves her life in New York, and of course, discovers new relationships in Italy, India, and Bali. As the story progresses, the central character, Liz, played by Julia Roberts, finds balance in her life. However, there’s one big problem; there’s no balance in the film, especially the narrative. Once she leaves her past relationships, she should leave it for good! However, the writers are aware that this is a studio film, and like many studio films, images of her past have to find their way into the last quarter of the film. Why is it that writers feel the need to tie everything together into a nice little bow, even when the protagonist’s journey doesn’t call for it? Answer: A Hollywood studio romance, that’s why. Eat Pray Love is an expensive travelogue with a glossy Hollywood makeover. Star-power cannot rise above this thinly-layered material. There were many problems with this film. First off, the opening and closing narrative voice-over is the only link to tying the cliché messages the film has to offer. Like many studio romances, it underestimates its audience. The images and character actions should speak for themselves. Show us, don’t tell us. During the course of Liz’s existential journey, I wanted to enjoy the culture of each and every location and backdrop. However, the filmmakers wish to rush the atmosphere and focus on the star-power. Supporting characters come and go into Liz’s life, and by the very end, everything sloppily ties together, or so the writers think it does. Audiences must love Julia Roberts. I mean, how can you not? Her uniquely structured face, long, slender body, deep-rooted eyes, and that movie star smile radiate the big screen. I think it’s safe to say that the camera is in love with Julia Roberts, but on that same token, the camera forgets to fall in love with the atmosphere. In the scene where she’s eating her exquisite cuisine in an Italian café it looks as though she’s acting for a commercial on spaghetti. The food, luscious surroundings, and ancient ruins need to be just as critical of a character as Liz. Another problem I had with the film was the superfluous camerawork. In the scene where Liz munches on her Italian delicacy the camera cuts to a high overhead shot. Why exactly does a camera have to be 10ft up in the air to see Julia Roberts dive into her spaghetti? There are other moments where the director insists on using a crane shot when the action doesn’t call for it. Perhaps most audiences will not observe these tiny details, but for a film critic who’s just as passionate about the technical aspects of filmmaking as the basic narrative, I found these details incredibly obtrusive and detrimental to the entirety of the film. The performances, mostly by Academy Award winning or nominated actors, are first rate. However, this is a prime example as to how great performances can only work unless they are matched by a great script. Eat Pray Love is what I call a package film; you’ve got the stars, the bestselling book, a few weeping moments, and the two lovers riding off into the sunset. If you’re look for a thoughtful, romantic film, I’d skip it, but if the package is good enough, then be my guest. *1/2 (out of four stars)

Duvall and Murray are excellent, but GET LOW stays slow

Get Low is a quiet and tender tale, which tries to be very moving, but it never reaches an adequate emotional level. The film is about a senile old man, marvelously portrayed by Robert Duvall, who wishes to arrange a party for his funeral while he’s still alive. The only funeral parlor in this backwoods town during the depression era is owned by a business-hungry entrepreneur played by Bill Murray. Duvall and Murray try to set up a plan to get the entire town to celebrate this bizarre man’s death. What is it about Bill Murray and his ability to take a subtle, dramatic performance and still make it very humorous? He’s the master at combining seriousness with deadpan humor, creating an altogether, original spin on every performance he’s confronted with. Get Low is very bittersweet, but at the same time, too restrained. Despite Duvall’s bravo performance, I felt there wasn’t enough room for the central character to grow. We are presented with this great, cynical character, who eventually finds redemption from his past sins, but I still didn’t see why the entire town should care. Sure, I cared about the character, and so did the supporting players, but why invite an entire town to a funeral party if they seem not to really bother? Why confess to an array of acquaintances if they had little to do with his past sins? While I was watching the film I couldn’t help but notice how restrained the direction was. Every conversation was pieced together with a simple shot-reverse-shot, and the overall rhythm is dully consistent. I think once Duvall’s character steps out of his shell a bit and we discover more about his back story, the film, in itself, needs to make a subtle shift in tone and rhythm. The cinematography is absolutely gorgeous, and the filmmakers do a great job recreating the depression era, but I felt I needed something more to perceive in accordance to the film’s visual grammar. Please, change up the camera setup, or hold onto the master shot, or get rid of any “safety” cutaways. I understand that the minimal approach to filmmaking keeps the focus on the performances, but personally, I think it should enhance the performances, which it didn’t. Get Low has moments of heart, humor, and sadness, but it never dares to be anything original, despite the original premise. As a result, I can’t say I cared too much about the protagonist nor wish to ever feel the need to be a part of his death. If you want to enjoy the all-encompassing performances, it’s worth checking out. However, I usually look for more than a dynamite cast. **1/2 (out of four stars) 

The Disappearance of Alice Creed Had Me on Edge

      Now, when you kidnap a person you have to be well-equipped; the room must be discreet looking, the walls covered with padding, a comfy bed, handcuffs attached to the bed, a bucket for the victim to do their business in, several cell phones, just in case the call is traced, and lets not forget, a professional attitude. The first twenty minutes of The Disappearance of Alice Creed is about the complex process and hard work in kidnapping a person. It’s kind of like making a movie; the set has to be totally ready, and everyone has to be on their marks before the cameras roll. 
      If a film theorist or critic ever created a subgenre, specifically for kidnapping, The Disappearance of Alice Creed would fit the criteria, and only that criteria. This is a lean, mean, take-no-punches kidnapping-ransom thriller; all the unnecessary fat is trimmed off. The film’s principal storyline reminded me of Fargo (1996), but Fargo was about more than the kidnapping. Much more! Fargo, one of the best films of the nineties, captured the quirky nature of the Minnesotan attitude, combined with a ferocious dark humor and ingenious character portrayals. 
      The Disappearance of Alice Creed takes place in England, but this straight-forward story could’ve taken place anytime, anywhere. However, this itty-bitty kidnapping caper is entertaining from beginning to end, even if it only involves three characters. Without giving too much away, I will say this, majority of the film is told from the kidnappers's point of view. We never know for sure if the police are involved or how the ransom is paid. Think of the rendezvous warehouse in Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs (1992). The focus of the film is the dynamics between the kidnappers and the victim, Alice Creed. Unlike Tarantino’s jumpy, yet brilliant narrative structure in Reservoir Dogs, Disappearance doesn’t have any flashbacks or narrative tricks up their sleeves. Like I said, this film is lean and mean, with a few genuine plot twist. 
      The primary goal is to bring out the terror of the victim, put the audience in her shoes, and believe me; we are with her one hundred percent. Some of the twists and turns are a little unrealistic, but what can I say, this is a movie, and sometimes a movie needs the necessary developments to keep the momentum flowing and the suspense building. Perhaps the entire film could’ve benefited more as a greater subplot for a more ambitious and complex narrative, but for what it was, it had me on the edge of my seat, from beginning to end. 


*** (out of for stars)

The Hardships of Warfare in RESTREPO

      Restrepo is a harrowing journey into the front lines of Afghanistan. This important, yet overlong documentary portrays the fatalistic mission of a handful of American soldiers for one year in a remote location. The film, at its best, shows the significance of photojournalism, and indirectly shows how the news dropped these important observations when composing the latest headlines. We’ll never truly understand what war, in general, is about and why our young men choose to fight if it wasn’t for real and unbiased documentation like this. 
      Restrepo depicts the fragile lives of the soldiers as it really is; they are young, scared, yet ready to kill if necessary. Restrepo is the name of a combat soldier who was killed at the beginning of the mission in 2006, and since then, their dangerous headquarters has been justly named after the deceased soldier. The filmmakers try to be utterly distant and objective towards the subject at hand, but I’m sure their gut intuition says they were against this attack, and the war in general. Questions and resentments were running through my mind while I was watching this film. Why are they in Afghanistan? What is ultimately accomplished by trying to overthrow the Taliban? How can the U.S. soldiers distinguish the Taliban from the regular citizens of the hillside? 
      The documentary is composed of five interviews and the real-life footage in Afghanistan. The filmmakers used extreme close-ups of the interviewee’s faces so we can see the tension rise as they describe their haunting tour of duty. As engaging and critical as this film was, I wanted the filmmakers to dive deeper into the reason behind the mission, and how the U.S. government demanded such a long stay in Afghanistan, with little to nil results. In addition, I wanted to know more about the soldiers's background, and understand what they were leaving behind and why. Restrepo’s message is very similar to the fictional, yet realistic The Hurt Locker (2009); it captured the adrenaline of warfare and the bond created between the young men fighting.       
When those boys went overseas no one told them they would have to engage in politics with the local natives of Afghanistan. When the platoon needed to take over and persuade the villagers to give up the Taliban, they realized they weren’t trained in that department. If there ever was a point to the mission, it would’ve been to convince the natural citizens they needed the American forces for their protection. 
      Based on the documentary, I don’t think the people of Afghanistan were convinced at all. Perhaps if Restrepo came out before The Hurt Locker, my initial reaction would’ve been greater than it really was, but it still treads on a powerful immediacy to our nation's understanding of what war is all about. It’s too bad the young Americans were there to kill, because the Afghan countryside is absolutely gorgeous. Based upon the footage, I would love the opportunity to hike up those bountiful green mountains, drink hot tea with the locals, and campout on a starry night. Unfortunately, they were there to endure the bombings, cross-fires, and the man next to them getting shot and killed. 


*** (out of four stars)  

Yale's favorite scene in film history is.........

     

      While I was taking a shower last night I was trying to think of some of the best films I've ever seen. I do my best thinking in the shower. How can one not? You're isolated, cleansed, and refreshed, both mentally and physically. I compiled a long list in my head: Taxi Driver, Vertigo, The Godfather, The Godfather II, Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown, Peeping Tom, La Strada, and the list goes on and on. However, the best scene in film history is not necessarily the best film ever made, yet it's one of the best from the 90s. I turned the shower off and dried myself and then suddenly, the scene came to me like the sunrise in the wee hours of morning. It was perfectly clear to me that the opening scene in Paul Thomas Anderson's Boogie Nights (1997) is the best shot in cinema history that I've witnessed. 
      At the young age of 14, I had the guilty pleasure of viewing Boogie Nights opening night. In October of 1997, the film was only playing in one theater in Dallas. It was the United Artist Cineplex at Walnut Hill and Central. If you've followed the history of every theater in Dallas, then you'd know that particular theater closed down about a decade ago. Anyways, before I get off on my usual tangent, I'm going to analyze the opening scene in Boogie Nights and see why it remains as the most cinematic experience in film history. 
      The movie theater was packed and the slow, offbeat-broken-circus score is heard over the opening credits. Suddenly, the loud disco beat of the Emotions, "The Best of My Love," startles the audience and the title, "Boogie Nights," is plastered on the vintage marquee. The camera, which is obviously attached to a steadicam operator, filming on a high crane, tilts down, and we see people coming out of the movie theater. Ironically, for the real audience, the movie is just beginning. This part of the opening, in my opinion, is inspired by Francois Truffaut's Day For Night (1973), which is a wonderful film about the joy of filmmaking. In Truffaut's film, the camera follows a man walking a long distance, and when he is confronted by a woman further down the street, the audience realizes that it's a movie set. I think Paul Thomas Anderson is using this concept, but instead, reverses the situation. It's sort of self-reflexive, meaning, it says that we know we are watching a movie, and that the marquee in the opening image is not related to the crowd coming out of the theater, but the real audience watching the film. 
      Next, the camera suavely tilts sideways, showing a neon sign on the side of the theater, and then swiftly moves across the street towards the night club. People from the theater are crossing the street and the central characters are being greeted by the club owner as they stride into the club. At this point, the music is slightly lowered and the sound of the voices out in the street are coming to life. In the same shot, right before we follow the characters into the club, the steadicam operator has walked off the crane and enters the interior of the club. The song is now blasting and the vibe is radiating. Next, the steadicam operator follows the club owner to the center of the set, and I swear, I was literally catapulted onto that dance floor! The music, the fluid camerawork, the 70s decor, the set design, all created a moment that was better than when John Travolta struts into Odyssey 2000 in Saturday Night Fever (1977). 
      The steadicam work was obviously influenced by Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas (1990), when Henry took Karen to the Copacabana. Furthermore, the way Paul Thomas Anderson uses a party or a natural environment to introduce all of the main characters is influenced by Robert Altman's Nashville(1975). The dialogue is natural and everyday; the simplistic nature expresses that all of these characters know one another. The most most brilliant part of this scene is that the director introduces all the main character in one single shot and still maintains this high-octane energy, which never lets go. Paul Thomas Anderson has the best of my love!

New on DVD: Roman Polanski is back in action with THE GHOST WRITER

     Have you ever watched Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and merely observed the use of rectangular frames in Rosemary’s apartment? The doorways, wallpaper, sofa cushions, and the mystery behind the closet are all designed to correlate with one another. In addition, Roman Polanski shot a lot of the film in the apartment so the viewer is constantly looking through frames within frames. Are these details accidental? I think not. If you’re a sincere film buff, a fan of Polanski’s work, and have an acute eye for photography, then you’ll easily notice the director’s fondness in portraying the details of an apartment (Rosemary’s Baby, The Tenant, Repulsion), a cabin (Death and the Maiden), a hotel room (Frantic), and of course, the modern house in The Ghost Writer. 
       Roman Polanski’s films contain similar visual motifs, including encrypted codes that the protagonist must solve, water over corruption, reflections, isolated characters, knives, and secret rooms. All of these elements, and much more, create the master of suspense, next to Alfred Hitchcock. The Ghost Writer is Polanski’s latest film, and at 76, he still knows how to direct. Despite his checkered past, A-list actors are always jumping at the opportunity to work with him. It’s about the work, not the man’s flaws. The Ghost Writer is about a man (Ewan McGregor) who’s hired to write the memoirs of the former British Prime Minister (Pierce Brosnan). The corruption involved between the United States government and the UK government is reminiscent of the city corruption Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson) was involved in Chinatown (1974). The central characters from both The Ghost Writer and Chinatown are in way over their head. 
      Another element I loved about this film was the gloomy cinematography. The sun is rarely seen, the clouds are always present, and the photography has an overall grayish-pastel hue. I recall reading an interview with Woody Allen and he said that he always preferred to shoot in New York when it was grey and cloudy, because it was easier to control the lighting and bring out the background in the shot. Perhaps this wasn’t Roman Polanski’s intention, but I must say, the visual overtones in The Ghost Writer were consistent throughout. It’s refreshing to see an intelligent political thriller, which doesn’t depend on extreme violence, loud noises, and senseless montages to grab its viewers. 
      The film opens up with an abandoned car on a ferry and a man washed up on the sea shore, which goes back to the recurrent Polanski theme of water over corruption. No shot is unnecessary and every shot correlates with the film as a whole. Majority of the action is based on the dialogue and the subtle character interrelationships. Pay careful attention to the details and all will be revealed at a moderate pace. 
      Do you remember the anagram Mia Farrow solved with the scrabble cubes in Rosemary’s Baby? Do you remember how suspenseful that moment was? Well, there’s a similar scene in The Ghost Writer, and believe me, the revelation is just as suspenseful. Political cover-ups are one of my favorite kinds of mysteries, and what better guide to have than Roman Polanski, a master of suspense.


 **** (out of four stars)

Moms are Cool and The Kids Are All Right

     The Kids Are All Right is a charming adult comedy about a modern American family rediscovering their anonymous sperm donor, and the dynamic relationship between the lesbian couple, the biological father, and the two teenage children. I mean, who can resist two of America's finest actresses (Julianne Moore and Annette Bening) playing a lesbian couple! The point of the story, I believe, is that even though the matriarchs don't represent the traditional American family, they still have problems and dysfunctions like anyone else. The two kids were conceived by an anonymous donor, and the youngest son decides, like any curious child, to contact his biological father, played by Mark Ruffalo. 
      The Kids Are All Right doesn't attempt to break any new grounds in character development or filmmaking for that matter, but instead, simply paints a lovely portrait of a non-traditional family on the brink of collapsing. I felt as though some of the sex scenes were a bit off-putting and unnecessary. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of Last Tango in Paris (1972) and the butter-for-lubrication scene, but Bernardo Bertolucci was breaking new grounds in the erotic drama genre. The pain and misery of Bertolucci's main characters were felt during those steamy sex scenes. I also love the sex scene in Boogie Nights (1997) between Mark Wahlberg and Julianne Moore, because it was really about the mechanisms of filmmaking. I admire the sexual nature and the intention to depict sex as what it is; raw and messy. "Movie sex" can be so overdone with all the backlighting, shadows, and unthinkable cutaways. But, when sex is over-the-top for the sake of being over-the-top, it doesn't ring true to me. 
      The best part of the film is the energy and charisma all three of the leads bring to the table. I can't say The Kids are All Right is a great film, nor did it rub me the wrong way, but it certainly is a well done comedy. The performances are bright, the dialogue is sharp, and the situations had me laugh out loud. I'm very glad to see that this film opened up in more theaters. In the first two weeks of the film's release, it was only showing in two theaters, and you better believe, if you weren't there at least 20 minutes early, it was sold out. Distributors need to give films like this a bigger chance and not underestimate their audience. When I checked the local paper for what's playing at the large multiplex theaters I noticed that Salt was playing on five screens, Dinner with Schmucks on three screens, Despicable Me on three screens, and Inception on three screens. Believe me, there's always room for a charming adult comedy with an offbeat premise.


 *** (out of four stars)

Casey Affleck doesn't quite bring out The Killer Inside Me

      I'll never forget the moment in Jim Thompson's film adaptation of The Grifters (1990) when Lilly Dillion (played by Angelica Huston) gets her hand stamped from her boss's giant cigar. "No, no, no!" Screamed Lilly. The Grifters is one of the best films to emerge from the nineties, and one of the best films about the gritty world of con artists and hustlers, next to David Mamet's House of Games (1987). Anyways, that particular scene is replicated in Jim Thompson's recent film adaptation of The Killer Inside Me. The star of the film, Casey Affleck, took his big cigar and burned the hand of a drunken beggar passing by him. However, the similar action doesn't singe the same way as it did in The Grifters. 
      Casey Affleck's understated and deceptive portrayal of the killer, Sheriff Lou, doesn't quite resonate. Nobody in the quiet town of Central, Texas would guess that their chief protector is the cause of all this corruption and mayhem. As the audience slowly uncovers Lou's troubled childhood and psychological scarring, we finally get a glimpse behind Lou's duality and inner rage. Hence, lies the problem with the film. I thought the story's focus should've shifted to Sheriff Lou's sketchy background and childhood traumas, which would've made the character a little more plausible than what was conceived onscreen. 
      Now, I'm not degrading Casey Affleck's interesting performance. I think he's a wonderful and skilled actor and can portray a variety of characters. Ever since Casey Affleck's introduction to the silver screen in To Die For (1995), I was hooked on his shy mannerisms, boyish good-looks, trembling voice, and implosive portrayals. He scored gold performances in Gone Baby Gone (2007) and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) , and continues to pick edgy characters, yet his new film left an all around icky taste in my mouth. The killer portrayed in this gritty film didn't have me convinced. 
      Another problem with this film was the lack of a proper musical score. Don't get me wrong, I think it's a true wonder how a filmmaker can carry an entire film with a selection of songs, but it's important to bring out the tone of every story. This film lacks a stable tone. It braises shock, horror and then irony, but nothing ever flows continuously. Furthermore, the constant use of 50s pop music doesn't underscore the irony of the so-called "Happy Day" era. Instead, the music distracts from the dark tone of the atmosphere. 
      If you want to observe the disturbed and tainted mind of a realistic serial killer, then check out Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986). Now, Michael Rooker's debut performance as Henry, truly brought out the killer inside me. **1/2 (out of four stars)

Dream a little Dream with Christopher Nolan's INCEPTION

        I walked into the theater with high expectations. I wanted to love it! I wanted to cherish it! I wanted my dreams to emulate everything Inception was discovering in high-tech cinema. However, sometimes when you go into a theater with the highest expectations, you might just be, a little let down. Christopher Nolan's 160 million dollar art film is an extravagant, mind-bending thriller, which creates an original universe of cinema. Sure, the logic and landscapes of dreams have been painted by such gifted filmmakers as David Lynch, Wes Craven, Roman Polanski, and Brain De Palma, but Christopher Nolan is striving to break new grounds.        
        Inception is one of those films, which sinks into your mind twenty minutes after leaving the theater. While I was experiencing the two-and-half-hour dreamscape opus, I was squirming in my seat. Maybe I was so captured by the visual elements, I couldn't keep up with the meandering plot. Despite the wonderful performances by Joseph Gordon Levitt, Michael Caine, Cilian Murphy, and Ellen Page, I found the supporting characters to be very lackluster. In addition, I thought the story could have unfolded in a much quicker pace. I loved the concept of stealing someone else's dreams, planting ideas into their heads, and creating a subconscious world like an architect constructing a building. 
      The visual imagery of Inception include trains shooting through the middle of a street, skylines folding over, and separate dimensions seeping into one another. However, with a plot so loopy as Inception, I didn't quite feel like I was in the best of hands. Inception reminded me of David Lynch's Mulholland Dr. (2001), which purposely didn't make any sense, but fulfilled the mythical and erotically-charged world of what a dream feels like. Mulholland Dr. strives where I believe Inception fails; emotional investment in the characters. I believe the dramatic arch has to be the filmmaker's number one priority. As much as I admired the visual attention, Christopher Nolan's acute direction, and Leonardo DiCaprio's complex character, Inception had me a little exhausted by the end credits. I still recommend seeing this wonder of a film and perhaps, it's worth a second viewing on my behalf. But I must argue; Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight (2008) and Memento (2000) are more of a masterpiece than the ambitious, yet slightly tedious, Inception. 


*** stars (out of four)