"Forget it Jake...it's CHINATOWN"

        When I first saw Chinatown (1974) at age 12, I couldn’t grasp the “water” scandal in the story. Sometimes, I need a visualization to fully comprehend a scientific and economic scenario. I like that about Robert Towne’s breakdown of the birth of Los Angeles in 1930s LA, and how the irrigation controlled the future of the city. The film doesn’t spell out every scandal, but instead, leaves the audience more room to think, analyze, and compare the screenplay’s monumental themes of power and corruption. After each viewing, the inner-workings of the water scandal become more clear, and I usually discover a new detail in the frame, which I overlooked in previous viewings.
        With that said, Chinatown is one of most intelligent scripts ever written. The initial conflict between an alleged affair between a high-profile engineer of the city's water supply and a mistress escalates to a fraudulent scandal, but by the end, the most important revelation deals with the characters dynamics, not water.

        Now, as far as my first screening of Chinatown goes, I was blown away by the final scene. Everything comes together perfectly, and even though the story stops at the street, we know what happens to every main character, beyond what was written. Screenwriter Towne and director Polanski present these intriguing characters—everyone is hiding something, everyone has a secret, and everyone is alone. The events that follow in the final seconds of the film spills the central characters true colors; we finally see the corruption come to light. We hear about the corruption running rampant in the city as we follow Jack Nicholson’s investigation, but at the end, corruption, profound and stomach-churning corruption, is finally exposed on-screen.
        This is just as much Polanski’s film as it is Robert Towne’s script. In fact, I have read several books, which detail the conflict between the two artists. The finale contains a sudden death, which reflects Polanski’s own grieving incident; the shocking murder of his pregnant wife, Sharon Tate, in 1969.
        Chinatown is Jack Nicholson’s finest performance, next to Five Easy Pieces (1970). Robert Towne wrote the script with Nicholson in mind, and the sarcastic and biting dialogue couldn’t have fit a better actor. When Jake Gittes (Nicholson) starts his investigation, the camera sticks to his perspective. In one scene, Nicholson is spying on his latest lead, Hollice Mulwray, but when Hollice turns the corner, leaving Gittes sight, the camera stays with Nicholson, quietly building his intrigue. Another great shot is when Nicholson is spying on Mulwray, while blending in a rowboat pond, and as he adjust his camera, Polanski’s film camera moves back and zooms forward, underscoring Nicholson’s point-of-view. However, Polanski never wants the camera to cut to Nicholson’s actual eyes. Nicholson is always in the frame—we see him snoop around, discover details, ask questions, and solve a puzzling mystery, piece-by-piece.

Polanski and Nicholson duke it out on set

        Roman Polanski has an excellent photographic eye. He’s great at creating a distance between the characters and their external environment. Observe how far Nicholson is from the people he’s spying on, and as relentless as his character is, he’s seemingly cautious when he snoops around. The opening shot shows one of Gittes clients perusing sexual pictures of his wife and another man. The first scene is an extreme-close-up of these invasive photographs. It says that Gittes isn’t intrigued by the work he’s done--he knows what the pictures are of, even if they are seen by his client’s point-of-view. However, when Gittes makes his most important discovery, a small pair of broken glasses, the camera remains over his shoulder. It’s not necessarily what he discovers that’s really important, but actually witnessing Nicholson discover an important element in the case.
        Chinatown is classified as a modern-day noir. The film contains similar themes, moods, and characters as in a black-and-white noir from the 1940s, but visually and aurally, the film is Polanski’s original creation. Like many film noirs before Chinatown, the protagonist is alone—his work is his life, there are no kids, no family, no lover; just the urge to solve a mystery. Existentialism—feeling alone, surrounded by corruption, is evident in Chinatown.
        In addition, the 1930s décor and costumes, violence, and disturbing sexual content exude an all-around “noir” feel. The sunny and golden look of the atmosphere might reek of an optimistic setting, but the underlying content in Chinatown, makes Double Indemnity (1941) feel fairly tamed.
.        Chinatown contains one memorable scene after another. When Jack Nicholson slaps Faye Dunaway (Evelyn Mulwray) numerous times across the face, the abrupt violence against an unarmed woman seems bizarrely justified. Throughout the film, Jake Gittes has been deceived, scammed, setup, and framed by a myriad of characters. He’s tried manipulating and snooping, but the truth will spill-out in front of him, one way or another. He wants the truth, and if smacking around his love interest will get that, that’s just what Gittes will do.
        Chinatown is the greatest private-eye noir that I’ve ever seen. It’s a mystery, wrapped in a mystery, wrapped around an even bigger, character-driven mystery. Like an onion, layers of controversy are steadily revealed, until the audience realizes that the most profound revelation has little to do with an unsolved murder or the water supply, but more importantly, the inherent evil, which hides behind a seemingly, respectable society. Pay careful attention to the narrative and how the story is structured, and you’ll realize Robert Towne’s overview of his powerful script, “Chinatown isn’t about a place. It’s about a state of mind.”

SUPER is one crude piece of indie-filmmaking

The rebellious content behind Super is so down-‘n’-dirty, you’d think it was conceived while the writer/director was on the toilet. James Gunn’s second feature film attracts an A-list cast. Wouldn't you be slightly curious as to why a little, grotesque fantasy like Super would attract the agents of some of Hollywood’s beloved movie stars, such as Kevin Bacon, Liv Tyler, Ellen Page, and Rainn Wilson?

Filmmaker James Gunn has been labeled as an “auteur” (I forgot where I read that). Not quite, but there is a distinct flavor to both Slither and Super; they both are over-the-top in the gore department and still, laugh-out-loud hilarious.  For my money, Slither is a more clever, low-budget, cult experience, compared to Super, but all in all, both are naughty dark comedies, worthy of repeated viewings.

 Writer/director James Gunn creates an anti-super hero, who’s a bit off-putting, but Rainn Wilson is very likable, and his portrayal as Frank is very dry and funny. His intentions aren’t necessarily to fight crime, but to rescue his wife, played by Liv Tyler, from falling into a downward spiral in the hands of Kevin Bacon’s character; a flashy and slick heroin dealer.  Frank is a character who doesn’t know much about super heroes. He gets his ideas from a Christian channel, which airs a cheaply tailored and offensive, daytime super-hero sitcom, and his crimson costume, full of awkward straps and buttons, mimics the show’s grungy, home-made concoctions.

 Frank comes across a 20-something girl, who’s a well-informed comic book geek, played with a manic fervor by the extremely talented, Ellen Page (Juno and Inception). At this point of the film, I couldn’t hold-back my laughter. Ellen Page’s character is the largest walking contradiction I’ve seen at the movies in a long time. She comes off as so sweet, cool, and charming, but the reality of her character is absolutely insane. You can tell that Ellen Page and the rest of the cast are having a blast transforming their parts to cater to James Gunn’s vile imagination. However, despite a series of dark, gruesome, and funny sequences, all of the characters lack a humanistic dimension. The concept itself has more depth than the individual characters. I think Liv Tyler has the most realistic portrayal; she’s truly the only individual who changes after confronting the lowest possible scenario imaginable for a dope whore. The rest of the characters are more into their groovy dialogue and shocking behaviors, rather than tapping into a realistic, psychological dynamic. 

 I wouldn't be surprised if James Gunn was thinking of Taxi Driver (1976) when he wrote the hero. Similar to Scorsese’s beloved masterpiece, Super is sort of about celebrating bloodied violence, and taking a mentally disturb nut-ball and commending his murderous impulse. This was certainly true for Robert DeNiro’s captivating and surreal perspective of a genuine madman, but I think there’s very little psychological depth en route for a provocative discussion, especially concerning the crimson crusader in Super. Despite some of the film’s goofiness, which unfortunately softens the edge, Super is a balls-to-the-walls, take-no-punches, exercise in crudeness, and I was very curious as to which direction the film would take after the abrupt shifts of random gore and cheap orgasms.

           

*** (out of four stars)

THE NAKED KISS (1964) is the coolest, underground classic

I’m nineteen, and I walk into Starlight Video. The year is 2003, tape stores were still around. I browse the aisles. I peruse the various sections, which include “new releases” “blaxploitation,” “ Hitchcock,” “Italian Cinema,” ect.. I yell at Peter, the owner, “Hey, what should I get this time? There are so many!” Next, I picked up a DVD that attracted my eye.

“What’s The Naked Kiss?” I asked.

“Oh it’s a classic, Yale. You must see it." 

After watching The Naked Kiss (1964) for the first time, I was blown away. I thought to myself, “Now, this is cool cinema.”

 The story is about a prostitute who escapes her corrupted lifestyle, moves into a charming little town and becomes the beloved nurse of crippled children. Ironically, she ends up stepping into the same kind of underbelly she was escaping from, but this time around, the disturbing elements were part of a respectable society. The Naked Kiss is my favorite Samuel Fuller film; an awkward stroke in low-budget filmmaking. The film contains the most unusual melding of noir and melodrama.

            At the time this low-budget gem was released, it was incorrectly labeled as a “sexploitation” film. This was in 1964. According to today’s standards, Samuel Fuller’s strange melodrama is a biting commentary on social hypocrisies. Fuller lures the audience into a world of prostitutes, pimps, and a strip-club/bordello that uses a respectable business as a cover-up. Before “hooter” girls were born, there was chocolate-selling “bon-bon” strippers. In addition, writer/director Fuller suggests psychological concepts, such as mental illness and sexual abuse.

            Fuller’s style and sociological commentary are very in-your-face. The opening shot is so rough and edgy that it almost throws you off balance. We see a raging woman batting her purse at the camera. A drunken man, her pimp, grabs her hair and rips off a wig. Now, we see a bald-headed femme fatale kicking the crap out of a man. The first few images, combined with the chaotic jazz music, is so raw and gritty, you must think the rest of The Naked Kiss is going to be a totally dark film noir. Dark; yes, but after the opening scene, the credits roll, and the star, Constance Towers, puts her wig on and elegantly fixes her image in front of the mirror. Simultaneously, the music shifts into something out of a Doris Day's melodrama. This is the joy of watching the film; the abrupt shift from film noir to a full-fledged, glowing melodrama. There are parts where the film is a bit choppy, but that’s part of its low-budget charm. Some of the dialogue is a bit soap-opera-ish and unconsciously comical, but still, it’s purely fun and provocative at the same time. A forgotten or hard-to-find film like The Naked Kiss has more qualitative direction and a cooler style than a lot of today’s big-budget studio films.

            For those readers who’ve seen the film, don’t you think there should be some-kind of monumental screening? Like at the Cannes film festival (maybe there was)? A masterful director like Martin Scorsese should present it. I mean, watching it again, I see so much daring and unusual camerawork and editing, which I’m sure have influenced up-and-coming directors of the late 60s and 70s. For example, Bonnie and Clyde (1967) was known for its distinctive opening shot; actress Faye Dunaway’s face is clinging onto the bar rails of her bed, which expresses her personal imprisonment. However, before 1967, Sam Fuller constructed an even more abrupt, daring, and original opening. Most mainstream American films in the early 60s were still utilizing a classical style; they opened by establishing location, not energy.

I also think Fuller’s work influenced filmmaker Quentin Tarantino. Sure, the sudden outburst of violence is there, but I’m thinking of a smaller reference. In a scene from The Naked Kiss where Kelly gets off the bus in the quaint town, the first iconic image is an old-style movie theater, and the marquee reads “Shock Corridor,” which was Fuller’s previous film with the same small studio. The parallel influence I’m referring to is in Tarantino’s Kill Bill (2003), where we see a giant ad for “Apple” brand cigarettes in the background, as “The bride” (Uma Thurman), enters the airport. The reference to Fuller’s previous and similar film, Shock Corridor (1963), is a bit obvious, but I like those catchy, inside-joke film references. Also, I get a real geeky kick when I see directors linking their films together by the minor mis-en-scene.

            The juxtaposition of soft and hard images in The Naked Kiss divides the film’s tone, shifting from the classical to the avant-garde. There’s a unique scene where our hooker with the heart of gold is falling in love with the town hero; a rich, giving and accomplished playboy. Then, the man shows Kelly a home-made film reel of the river flowing through Venice. Suddenly, the two lovers are imaginatively transported into the image. The stylized use of rear-screen projection is very stagy, but that’s part of Fuller’s inventive idiosyncrasies. Another great scene is where the film moves into an effective musical sequence; Kelly sings “the blue bird of happiness” with a group of racially diverse, crippled children. Again, Fuller pushes the boundaries by purposely using a variety of races in the children’s portrayals, yet all, or most of the adult townsfolk, are white. The musical scene is a combustible stir-pot of sweet, dreamlike and creepy tones, and it sets-up the disturbing revelation.

The plot might seem too over-the-top, creating too many drastic shifts in character relationships and revelations in a swiftly running time of 90 minutes. Nevertheless, Fuller stays true to his usual cinematic obscurities, while developing a richly textured story. We follow Kelly, who rapidly transform from the low-brow whore with the fiercest stilettos you ever did see, to a gentle town nurse for handicapped children. I get so giddy watching the shifty character interactions and campy dialogue. I wanted the frame to stand still and let every scene play out with more dialogue and more attitudes; it’s one hell of a fun time.

            Constance Towers was great to gawk at on the big screen. Her strong cheek bones, thin frame, and threatening eyes make it impossible to turn away. I wish I could’ve seen her act in a Hitchcock film (Vertigo, Rear Window). She totally could’ve been a part of Hitchock’s star-power blondes, which included Grace Kelly and Kim Novak. Constance Towers had just as much glamor and energy behind her image as any of Hitchock's historical and brilliant bombshell beauties. The entire film is built around Kelly’s transformation, but her bad-old ways bring many life-lessons to the supporting characters. Still though, her gracefulness shines.

 The last, and the most distinguished directorial vision, is the filmmaker’s blunt messages, which are still taboo for 1964. The best sequence is the actual “naked kiss.” The direction, the extreme shot/reverse shots, and the lack of music (only the ambient sound of a powered film reel) all build suspense, and sets up the most important plot-point of the film. The naked kiss, if you haven’t figured it out, is………. oh no, I don’t think I could live with myself if I gave out that piece of information.

I had the great opportunity of witnessing the cult classic on the big screen at the Texas Theater in Dallas, TX. Yes, that’s the same theater where Lee Harvey Oswald hid-out after shooting a cop (so they say). The Pick Up on South Street (1953), Another film by Samuel Fuller, is great and a more polished, thriller-type film, but The Naked Kiss remains my favorite, the perfect underground classic. This is one of my favorite films of the 60s and pushed me to experience all of Samuel Fuller’s work.

**** (out of four stars)

BEAUTIFUL BOY contains heartbreaking performances (Part of Dallas International Film Festival)

            When your only son commits a heinous school shooting, how do you cope with that kind of shock? How can the parents of the victim and killer move on with their lives? Beautiful Boy presents an emotionally painful and controversial situation as the backdrop; however, the real drama concerns a sad marriage, falling apart, bit-by-bit.

            The grief-stricken and emotionally stunned married couple is brilliantly portrayed by Michael Sheen (Frost/Nixon) and Maria Bello (The Cooler). Beautiful Boy is mainly a performance piece. It’s exciting watching two great actors build two implosive performances and take my word; they shine all the way through.

            The film was shot on Super 16mm and the camera is handheld; the combination of a jagged style, shaky close-up shots, and a smaller camera gives the film a docudrama-like feel. The deteriorating marriage reminded me of Aaron Eckhart and Nicole Kidman in the recent, Rabbit Hole (2010) (another grief themed movie), Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling in Blue Valentine (2010), and Tom Wilkinson and Sissy Spacek in the depressing, yet brilliant, In the Bedroom (2001).

            Even though Beautiful Boy has a very thought-provoking premise, relevant to several real-life incidences, I still felt that the anguished couple from In the Bedroom was a more dramatic depiction. Beautiful Boy observes the grief, but I liked the dynamic shift from heartache to cold-blooded revenge in In the Bedroom.

            Ever since the shocking Columbine incident, several films have explored the devastating aftermath. These films include Michael Moore’s political, expose documentary, Bowling for Columbine (2002) and Gus Van Sant’s experimental mood piece, Elephant (2003). Personally, I think Elephant was the most provocative and technically inventive, using the senseless high school shooting to reflect on a variety of social issues. However, Beautiful Boy presents a provoking dilemma; how do you grieve for a loved one who’s represented as a mass murderer by the media?

            Despite the realistic and woeful character observations, I wish the filmmakers used the pestering media to comment on the demeaning exploitation of the family’s situation. Sure, the film touches on the subject matter, concerning the media’s pressure, but I wanted the subtext to emerge, rather than sit in the background.

            I’ve seen grieving couples in a plethora of dramas, and as absorbing as Beautiful Boy is, I felt it could’ve expressed a stronger sociological awareness. Still, Michael Sheen and Maria Bello are at the top of their game, and as far as Sheen’s performance goes, this film will establish him as a more versatile actor.

*** (out of four stars)

THE INTERRUPTERS are taking action (part of Dallas International Film Festival)

            The Interrupters is a stimulating, yet lengthy documentary, commenting on urban violence. The filmmakers are taking matters in their own hands, exploring the senseless violence in the urban parts of Chicago. The “Violence Interrupters” is a non-profit organization, a group of concerned citizens, who are trying to halt the savage murders in their community. The purpose of the group is to let the young urban community know that they have a choice to avoid prison, gangs, drugs, and death.

            The documentary follows several individuals whose lives are gravely affected by the gritty streets. The filmmakers stay behind the scenes; a fly-on-the-wall approach to documentary filmmaking. The objective is to study the positive transformation of these young subjects. During the course of the film, we see these real people endure correctional facilities, friends’ funerals, and injuries due to sudden street outbursts.

            We see smart and capable people doing stupid things, and before you know it, they’re six feet under or spending life in prison. Then, "The Violence Interrupters” step in, persuading these young adults to turn their lives around. My personal philosophy; everyone deserves a second chance. No one is really trapped in a bad situation. Sometimes, people need the right hand to pull them out.

            The Interrupters has the potential to be like the epic documentary, Hoop Dreams (1994), which follow several students as they survive the pitfalls and ultimately, achieve their goals. However, at 2 hrs and 47 minutes, I felt The Interrupters should’ve been trimmed down. I don’t think a chronology of 14 months, and one subject matter constitutes a mere 3 hr documentary film.

            A lot of the deaths we hear about in the film involve gun use. My personal interpretation has less to do with violence and more specifically, “shooting” violence; the power a person feels when they’re holding a gun. There’s a scene where one of the subjects wanted to seek revenge, and he talks about grabbing his “pistol.” STOP—this is the point where a new topic should’ve been introduced; the scary glamour of possessing a gun. However, interweaving a new topic in documentary filmmaking can cause an abrupt shift in focus. Overall, the filmmakers present an important issue, which reflects our urban violence, not just in Chicago, but all over the nation.

*** (out of four stars)

POETRY is a subtle and lyrical slice-of-life (Part of Dallas International Film Festival)

            Poetry, the neo-realistic film from South Korea, left me feeling sorrowful for the central character, Mija (Jeong-hie Yun), who’s an elderly lady taking care of her only teenage grandson, who was abandoned by his biological mother. The lyrical and observant tale begins with a shot of a little school girl, dead, floating gracefully down a running river.

            Poetry is a subtle drama about guilt, redemption, justice, and discovering life’s simple beauties when you’re constantly surrounded by emotional pain, misery, and financial burdens. Korean actress, Jeong-hie Yun, gives a wonderful and quiet performance. The actress evokes more sentiments and humanistic details from her body language than the monotonous tone of her voice. She’s timid, passive, and most of all, lost. Throughout the narrative, we see the protagonist gradually empathize with the dead girl’s disturbing tragedy and past childhood existence. Mija enlists in a community poetry class and throughout her journey, finds a way to appreciate nature’s simple beauties, masking her sorrowful situation.

            The director utilizes frames-within-frame during some of the interior shots, which works as a recurrent visual motif. Before a provocative moment occurs, the camera remains stationed outside the room, giving the impression that this moment should be left as a secret. For example, in a disturbing sexual sequence, the camera lingers a short distance from a bathroom door and then suddenly, the door quietly closes, but the camera remains stationed, which builds tension for what’s about to happen.

            The steady pace in the film is deliberate; the filmmakers are capturing life as it is in a lower-class Korean neighborhood. Furthermore, there are moments where the grandmother picks up a fallen apricot on the sandy pathway or gazes at a flowing river, which shows the character’s appreciation for the details in each location. Through quiet and observant meditation, the grandmother finds poetry in life, not in her class.

            I had the great opportunity of seeing the film at the Dallas International Film Festival. After the screening, audience members gathered around, trying their best to describe the powerful, yet subtle emotional build-up. After watching Poetry and last year’s quirky mystery thriller, Mother (2010), I have grown quite fond of Korean cinema and will continue to lookout for up-and-coming Korean filmmakers.

***1/2 (out of four stars)

WUSS.....my favorite Casa-nerdo (Part of Dallas International Film Festival)

            Wuss opens with a 1999 high school reunion, and the band for the party is singing a pop-rock song about 9/11. Right away, the writer/director, Clay Liford, invites the audience to a refreshing and odd black comedy, reeking of provocative and satirical overtones. After Wes Anderson’s dryly funny Rushmore (1998) and Ash Christian’s zany dark comedy, Mangus!, I get the feeling that the new generation of Texas filmmakers love to poke fun at southern suburbia.

            After our hero, Mitch (Nate Rubin), a wimpy-looking substitute English teacher, gets rejected by a woman he finds attractive, the title, “Wuss,” appears over the small man’s image in bold white letters. From there, the peculiar rhythm is established, and it rarely falls flat.

            Wuss is about a high school teacher who’s constantly threatened, intimidated, and violently picked on by a particular student and his posse of adolescent misfit friends. Mitch has a steady career, but still lives with his mother and nagging sister. Obviously, he’s too scared to find a life of his own. The bulk of the narrative revolves around the taboo relationship between our wussy hero and one of his female students, Maddie (Alicia Anthony), commonly known as “butt-whore.” Not because she’s actually a prostitute, but smokes cigarettes she find on the ground.

            The awkward tone begins to bubble-up in a scene where two of the faculty members are gossiping about Maddie, aka “butt-whore,” and the film randomly cuts to a quick shot of her picking up a cigarette off the sidewalk. The flashback shot might only last for a few seconds, but the influence behind the editing style dates back to Truffaut’s French new-wave masterpiece, Shoot the Piano Player (1960), where we see a mother keel over dead, right after a character articulates the incident. If Shoot the Piano Player dates too far back for some readers, than checkout Paul Thomas Anderson’s debut film, Hard Eight (1996), in which we cut to a random shot of a large box of matches flame-up in actor John C. Reily’s pant-pocket. Rounding out my point, the flashbacks in these films are paralleled with natural conversations, and only reveal an odd character trait, rather than an important plot-point.

Another minor aspect I enjoyed about Wuss was some of the abrupt jump-cuts, and the bold white lettering over certain scenes. These small details and stylistic editing choices bring-out the awkward visual language of the film.

            As much as I enjoyed the originality of the writing, I felt some of the portrayals were too exaggerated and a few of the performances were a bit amateurish. The dialogue might punch with a dead-pan, dryly humorous force, but some of the actors, not including the protagonist) have bad timing and delivery, which undercuts the biting dialogue.

            The bizarre depiction of a public school and smarmy faculty members refers to such indie classics as Election (1999) and Welcome to the Dollhouse (1996). The filmmaker behind Wuss won the audience award at the Dallas International Film Festival, and deservedly so. After the last screening, the audience congregated with the cast and crew for a fun and relaxing Q and A. Wuss is still working the festival circuit, but with the right connections and promotions, I’m sure it will be picked up for distribution. I wonder what kind of film the writer/director is working on next. Perhaps it will have the title, “Faggots and Retards.” (Please do not take offense; I’m just making a point about the filmmaker’s blunt humor).

*** (out of four stars)

           

           

           

APART is worth putting together (part of the Dallas International Film Festival)

Apart is a puzzling, romantic mystery about two young individuals, Noah (Josh Danziger) and Emily (Olesya Rulin), linked by a rare psychological disorder (ICD-10 F.24). At the beginning of the film we are informed that this was based on actual events. I think not. After a discussion with the filmmaker, Aaron Rottinghaus, I made the clarification that it’s actually based on an obscure event where two people checked into the hospital with similar bleeding marks. Is this a coincidence or does this supernatural-like disorder truly has any validity? Well, it doesn’t matter. What intrigued me about the film is the enigmatic connection we make with other people.

            Apart begins as Noah awakens, paralyzed, in a hospital. Gradually, his mind, speech, body movement, and most importantly, his memory gradually recovers. In fact, both Noah and Emily are seen by psychiatrists to understand their bizarre and violent event.

            The best part of the narrative is that this isn’t the actual beginning of the plot, just the story. As the film progresses, we learn about a fatal school bus crash, where both Emily and Noah were involved and survived in. Their disorder allows for them to see the consequences of such drastic events before they occur; the bloody aftermath, to be more specific.

            When I asked the writer and director about the influence for their original and beautifully shot film, they mentioned the Hitchockian classic, Vertigo (1958). Please, do not see Apart and expect to walk into the hypnotic classic. Perhaps it was the combination of a mystery and a love story, which refers to the masterpiece, but other than that, it’s the only reference to Vertigo I could spot. Vertigo is a surreal piece of cinema about undying obsession, above many other things.

            Apart was stunningly photographed on HD (the same camera used in The Social Network (2010), and surprisingly displayed a large depth of field, which can be difficult when shooting on HD. For example, during a flashback sequence of a school bus crash, the use of a sun-glowing color effect in post-production and awkward angles brought out a nice deep focus in the image. In fact, every technical stage of this little indie flick radiates with professionalism.

            The film contains an interesting, yet slightly flawed nonlinear structure. I think the plot works well by jumping sequences out of order, increasing the mysterious intrigue between the two star-crossed lovers, but it all builds up to a rather vague ending. Another issue I had with the film was the lack of chemistry between the two leads. They never have much to say to one another and during instances where they should be screaming with grief, they seem rather emotionless.

During the Q&A, an audience member questioned the use of a nonlinear structure. The filmmakers weren’t quite sure themselves, but from the tone of their voice, you can tell they wanted to just say, “Hey, it works better.” In my opinion, the only reason to use a nonlinear structure is to enhance the drama, and in the case with Apart, it works.

*** (out of four)

           

SOURCE CODE is a well-constructed thriller

The filmmakers behind Source Code don’t waste anytime moving the plot along; the first ten minutes jumpstarts the déjà-vu like plotline, and the momentum is sustained throughout. It’s just go-go-go; put your thinking cap on and enjoy the high-tech thriller.

            Jake Gyllenhaal wakes up on a speeding train on the way to the heart of Chicago, not aware of his surroundings or his own identity. Several people on the train get up and pass by, and one spills their coffee on his shoes. The director cuts to several quick insert shots, which recur over and over again in the plot, and yes, these shots generate a different perspective by Gyllenhaal’s character each time around. Eight minutes and one deadly explosion later, our hero is transported back to what he thinks might be reality. Gyllenhaal’s mission is to discreetly uncover the bomber of a train, trying to save humanity, eight minutes at a time.

            The exposition of the drastic chain of events are well established, but some of the information the audience is fed is very high-tech and far-fetched. Hell, we are not even transported back in time, but more specifically, a parallel universe. That’s okay though, we don’t need much of a rational explanation, as long as the logic works in the film, as opposed to reality. I might not completely grasp the concept of the “source code,” but throw away your logic and immerse yourself in this fast-paced, intelligent thriller.

             The best comparison I can make to Source Code is Christopher Nolan’s stunning dreamlike scenario in the ambitious thriller, Inception (2010), but Source Code is more straightforward and moves like lightning as opposed to Nolan’s high-concept opus. After the situational conflict is established, the writers work on the protagonist’s intriguing character development. Gradually, the audience discovers a central purpose to Gyllenhaal’s mission and why he’s the one to save the world from global terrorism.

             The finale of Source Code had me a little confused; I felt I needed a little more clarity and thought the ending had sort of an open-ended interpretation. Perhaps everything was tied together in a nice little bow, but I thought the last five minutes or so negates the concept of the “source code,” and its paradoxical possibilities. Films like the big-budget Source Code isn’t what I love about going to the movies, but it’s refreshing to be thoroughly engaged and thinking on my toes for a swift hour and a half.

*** (out of four)

BY DAY AND BY NIGHT serves a quiet sci-fi experience (part of the Dallas International Film Festival)

If the brilliant Italian director, Federico Fellini (La Dolce Vita, 81/2), made a sci-fi picture, the metaphorical images, particularly the ocean tide, where the earth begins and the abyss of heaven never ends, would be similar to By Day and By Night, a minimalistic science-fiction film from Mexico. The film is essentially about the apocalyptic effects of an overpopulated metropolis, and the split lives of a family; a man, woman, and a little girl, all searching for their own freedom outside the futuristic habitat. One can only see the other when they’re asleep, and are scientifically engineered with a special enzyme. By day, the woman is awake, and by night, both the man and the girl are awake. Unfortunately, the lovely threesome can’t ever experience one another’s companionship simultaneously.

The quiet story and the empty, yet luscious landscape works as an allegory for the oppression and overpopulation of the Mexican underclass, and metaphorically expresses the ancient Mayan culture of Mexico’s history. The philosophical messages slowly emerge from the science-fiction backdrop. By Day and By Night doesn’t refer to the sci-fi, popcorn extravaganza of Star Wars (1977), but more in touch with Kubrick’s hypnotic masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968).

The best part of this slow-paced film is the meticulous framing and image composition. The director and actor, Alejandro Molina, has a terrific photographic eye. He certainly knows how to frame his actors in every shot, and in the process, clearly distinguishes the foreground from the background. For instance, there’s a scene where the family is running away from the dreary futuristic city, and the shot of the car driving through a desolate road contains a beautiful cactus-flower in the foreground, suggesting they are the only living things in the midst of the open landscape, and in this case, the desert habitat. Another terrific shot is where one of the actors is situated on a moving-dolly, and as he progresses across the screen with a blank emotion, a shadowy mural of ancient Mayan ruins steadily move forward from the background, expressing the film’s cultural overtones.

To my dismay, I couldn’t understand the story or the convoluted interpretation until the last 40 minutes or so. Perhaps, I was so enamored by the filmmaker’s graceful image construction that I slowly lost interest in the story, or maybe, the story wasn’t interesting enough to keep my attention. Either way, I was bored, plain and simple. This is a serene futuristic drama about love, emotions, and family values, but the sci-fi elements could’ve been dropped. In addition, the gradual pacing works against the realistic conflicts of the family portrayed. There are some films where the slow placing is deliberate, and builds to a stunning conclusion. In By Day and By Night, the camera lingers for too long for majority of the shots, dragging the pace. For those interested in brilliant cinematography and composition, it’s worth a look, but I need more of a reason than the elegant look of a film to stay interested. .

**1/2 (out of four)

MANGUS!......theatre of the absurd!

The young filmmaker, Ash Christian, pulls together every absurd, sly, and politically incorrect idea that pops into his zany head, and the end result is Mangus!; a comical throwback to the midnight movie mania of the 1970s, a la John Waters. This is a fine installment to the demented queer cinema fad, but unfortunately, midway through, the bad taste runs low and the quirky concepts become too over the top.

Mangus! is about a Jesus Christ theater nut, who after an unfortunate accident, becomes paralyzed in a wheelchair, ruining his chances of being the star of the high school production of “Jesus Christ Spectacular,” which is a parody of the famed production, “Jesus Christ Superstar.” Writer/director Ash Christian creates an oddball community of trailer-park misfits, queens, and lets not forget, politically incorrect depictions of paraplegics. Mangus Spedgwick comes from a somewhat broken home, living back and forth between his biological and stepparents. His starry-eyed dream is to both play, and in state of disallusionment, transform into Jesus Christ; even if he has to carry a bag of his urine onto the stage with him.

The best part of the ultra-low-budget indie flick are the crazy supporting characters, which include parts played by Heather Matarazzo (Welcome to the Dollhouse 1996), Jennifer Coolidge (Best in Show 2000), Leslie Jordan (Sordid Lives 2000), and lets not forget, the iconic filmmaker of the crème-de-la-crème of bad taste, John Waters (Pink Flamingos 1971), playing a cameo as the real Jesus Christ. Furthermore, Ash Christian provides a satirical observation of suburban life in a small Texas community.

Due to budget restraints and a tight crew, the film was shot on HD cam, and when dealing with the digital medium, it can be tricky to enrich the quality of the image. As most filmmakers know, digital provides a very flat image, as opposed to the rich texture of film. Technically, I felt Mangus! was a rough cut to a more ambitious and polished piece of work. Some of the interior shots were a bit dark and blurry, or flooded with too much light, and could’ve used a few color corrections in post-production. In addition, the slow-motion effects in a few scenes were a bit jarring and superfluous. A little trim here and there on the final cut could’ve benefited. Indie films with a shoe-string budget and a small time-frame to complete for the festival circuit will invariably have a few rough edges. These minor flaws aren’t what I really look for in independent cinema. Story, originality, and character development are what truly matters.

Mangus! contains many laughs and bizarre plot lines, but towards the end, some of the offensive humor feels like a one-trick pony. The film left me craving for a more outrageous variation of comical, musical, melodramatic, and even gruesome genres. What the audience is walking into is a flat-out black comedy, what I really wanted out of Mangus! was an ambitious horror-musical-comedy. Overall, the film is quite the original invention, but I wanted more of a hodgepodge of polar genres.

Mangus! is premiering at the Dallas International Film Festival and is definitely worth a look. Ash Christian’s ideas and oddball visual grammar has midnight movie cult-status written all over it, and the more films he makes and the bigger budgets he’ll acquire, the more polished they’ll become.

**1/2 (out of four stars)

HESHER....the loser with the heart of gold

A few weeks ago I had the great opportunity to visit the South by Southwest Film Festival in Austin, TX. I only spent three days there, but out of the eight films I saw there was only one that I highly recommend seeing once it hits theaters. The film is called Hesher (2010), and let me tell you, it’s the kind of indie film that reeks of originality and candidness. The cast is superb, the humor is down-right dirty, and the dialogue crackles with witty one-liners.

Hesher is a quirky black comedy that never lets up with its mordant sense of humor. In the spirit of Little Miss Sunshine (2006) and The Good Girl (2002), here is an indie flick with the right amount of rudeness, humor, and heart. Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Inception and Mysterious Skin) leads the cast as Hesher; a loser with no direction in life. Hesher lives in his van, never washes his grungy long hair, and lives to feed off other people, and their own misery. He’s a nihilistic tool in the worse sense, but still, the veteran 20-something actor, Levitt, has the uncanny ability of exuding a certain charm about this misfit of an asshole character. Furthermore, in reality, the actor transforms from a nice Jewish boy from the suburbs to a pot-smoking arsonist with nothing but an attitude problem.

Hesher finds himself taking advantage of a broken-home, due to the loss of a young boy’s mother. He barges in, and he acts like it’s his own home, including watching porn in his underwear on the living room couch. This character plays on the weak and usually waits for someone to have the balls to discard his disgusting presence. Fortunately, for Hesher, the family he’s barged in on is grieving for a loss in their family, and events that take to the turn for the….well surprisingly, the better, in a more therapeutic sense.

The one that everyone hates and despises for his utter crudeness towards humanity just happens to be the very one to breath life into a broken-family, numb with emotional turmoil. At this point of the story, the writing and character development soar to another level; the poignant battles we must go through to deal with grief.

The stellar cast also includes Rainn Wilson, best known as a comedian on the hit show The Office plays the empty and forever-in-grief father. Piper Laurie plays the elderly grandmother, and I’m sorry for Carrie (1976) fans, but she does not lock up any family member in the closet to pray for forgiveness. Piper Laurie’s performance is as genuine and serene as any typical grandmother who smokes pot to help with her glaucoma. Natalie Portman plays a grocery clerk who also happens to become a part of Hesher’s whirlwind of destruction and later on, redemption. The key to the relationship between Hesher and this strange family is an adolescent boy, T.J. (Devin Brochu) played with the perfect sensibility of any angry, adolescent boy.

Hesher is the kind of indie film to take your friends out and laugh at the ridiculous, yet original dilemmas, and then, find a place in your heart to empathize with every character, no matter what bad things they might have done.

***1/2 (out of four stars)