STOKER is more style than substance

 

       Director Chan-wook Park took my breath away with the cult film, Oldboy (2003), which is a spellbinding revenge tale. The film blended grit, violence, humor, and one of the most compelling mysteries ever told into a tasty dish of stylized direction. Everything from composition, bold colors, and De Palma-like use of split screens, Oldboy became a solid undertaking in stylish cinema. Stoker is Chan-wook Park’s first foray into Hollywood, and although his flamboyant visual grammar is apparent, the script doesn’t climax as well as its predominant influence, Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt (1943).  Stoker has all of the qualities of a captivating, psychological thriller—murder and sex go hand-and-hand, characters aren’t what they seem, and the plot takes a twist into the dark side. Unfortunately, the director has more fun teasing us, rather than, revealing.       The story is about an uncle who moves into his sister-in-law’s house, after his brother mysteriously dies. The odd trio—mother, daughter and uncle—oozes of sexual tension. Nicole Kidman plays Evelyn Stoker, and like her bizarre daughter, India (Mia Wasikowska), she's smitten by the relentless charm of their new houseguest, Uncle Charles (Matthew Goode). The key relationship is between India and Charles, and as the plot slowly thickens, the audience is aware that Charles Stoker isn’t quite who he says he is. 
     Chan-wook Park paints a surreal picture; images that express isolation and bitterness are ironically, beautiful. The work of a master surrealist is evident, but the script builds and builds, but somehow, falls flat. Something sinister is coming this way, and let me tell you, a gorgeously shot path is paved, but the overall dramatic impact is more flaccid than erect. What Stoker lacks in a suspenseful, character-driven story, makes up in a stylish visual scheme. However, it’s storytelling that really counts.
       One of the best motifs presented in the film are India’s shoes. She wears the simple, black-and-white saddle shoes worn in private schools. There’s a wonderful shot in which India is daydreaming on her bed, and every pair of shoes she has worn since a toddler are precisely placed in a circle around her body. Considering her last pair of shoes is classy pumps with heels as sharp as teeth, the shoes represent her development from odd child to a fledging and sexual adult. I smell a reference to Dorothy’s ruby slippers in The Wizard of Oz (1939).
      Chan-wook Park, similar to Brian De Palma, underscores the dark humor and sexuality in Hitchcock’s work. There’s a scene where India is taking a shower, washing the blood off her body, and as she masturbates the film intercuts to a murder. The scene reminded me of the opening of De Palma’s Dressed to Kill (1980), where the camera peers into a steam-filled shower, building suspense, only to reveal Angie Dickinson playing with herself, fantasizing being raped by a stranger. The shower scene in Stoker intercuts sexual and violent desires, but afterwards, the tone and pacing remain the same, when it should rise to a new level of suspense and intrigue. Like I’ve said before, no one can do Hitchcock better than Hitchcock, but Brian De Palma comes pretty damn close.
       Stoker serves a nice slice of dark humor with its main dish, but there’s only so much an audience can take with the razzle-dazzle of prettified images. Somewhere, the story has to take the biggest leap, rather than the style. A masterwork is hidden underneath, but it seems to me that the writers aren’t sure where to go with this material.

**1/2 (out of four stars)

Vote Yes! for NO

      

        I’m not ashamed to admit it; I’m not inclined to follow political issues closely.  I believe that’s what Robert De Niro told Cybill Sheperd in Taxi Driver. However, I am aware that my vote and my personal views count with the best of them. During election season, I tend to analyze the advertisement campaigns. The television ads for both parties spend more time denouncing the opponents, taking below-the-belt hits. This may be a harsh generalization, but it’s my personal perspective. I never like it when one party throws the other under the bus in order to make their campaign look better.
        The new, political drama from Chile, No, provides a fascinating and thought-provoking look at the peak of Augusto Pinochet’s dictatorship, circa 1988. I believe it’s important for little independent films like No to be made and acknowledged around the world; the content concerning Chile’s electoral process is universal. No is a scathing perspective of the campaign behind one of the most important international elections—the end of Augusto Pinochet’s regime.
        Mexican superstar, Gael Garcia Bernal, plays as Rene, a young and savvy advertiser that lands the job of the century. He’s the mastermind of the “No” campaign. During that time in Chile, the citizens could either vote “Yes” or “No.” The most votes can either discharge or continue Pinochet’s reign of fear. These votes will change Chile’s government. 
        One should never underestimate the political clout of advertisement. These guys might seem like the snarling executives who instill fear into our consumer population. By that same token, they speak to our latest trends and youngest generation of voters. Rene’s job is to speak to a younger crowd; the group sees Pinochet differently than the older generation. A rainbow sign becomes the recurrent motif of the campaign—a political symbol. Most people believe that the rainbow signifies homosexuality. Yes, this is true, but it also represents peace and unity, an important symbol during the sixties.
        Besides the cerebral content of the film, No is a subtle, technical achievement as well. The entire film is shot on grainy video, kept in its original aspect ratio. The video look of the 80s blends with the archival footage, which includes commercials, newscast, and riots and protest. In fact, the entire film is structured around the found footage; a sublime and daring way to tell a story, especially a story of political enlightenment. One can look at the film itself as a piece of advertisement. The Reagan-era of the 80s is wonderfully recreated in South America’s metropolitan society.  It’s a wonder to see how much of American pop culture influenced the younger generation in Chile.
        Towards the end of the film, there’s a simple, yet victorious shot of Rene walking through the celebrated streets, with his son in hand. The back story of Rene is that his father was persecuted by Augusto Pinochet. He’s doing for his own son, what his father tried to do for Rene. There’s a legacy at play. His freedom isn’t just for the Chilean people, but for the sake of his own family, his own heritage. He’s just a normal guy with a regular job in advertisement. Similar to Woodward and Bernstein of the Nixon-era, Rene is aware of the progressive impact his work has on society, not just in Chile, but society as a whole.

 *** ½ (out of four stars)