'Long arms of the law' marathon: Public Enemies

Public Enemies (2009, Michael Mann)
B+

John Dillinger went down in history as one of the most famous criminals in the history of United States. He was a bank robber during the Great Depression of the early 1930s. While the people bled poverty, Dillinger and his gang performed daring and dangerous theft operations. Obviously he was a crook, but as a crook who took from banks, those big bad selfish establishments, he was viewed in somewhat positive light by the many in the general public. Director Michael Mann brings the story of Dillinger’s final few months alive to screen in Public Enemies, based on the book of the same name written by Ryan Burrough.

The ever popular Johnny Depp steps into the shoes of the sly criminal, which turns out to be a smart casting decision. Depp has a varied filmography, proving time and time again that his range as an actor apparently knows no bounds. Depp’s Dillinger is, as most thieves should be, a confident man, a man who gambles his freedom with every heist, but who is ‘having too much fun today to think about tomorrow.’ Success breeds success in more ways than one. In the case of Dillinger, success is felt through the money he has, but also through the network of support he has in the criminal world. One evening, while out on the town he catches sight of Billie (Marion Cotillard) a coat check girl who is quickly won over by his bravado and charm. Their love affair proves to be a passionate one. Christian Bale is Melvin Purvis, a special agent of the FBI working for J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Cudrup) and, with his special unit of young men hired to track down Dillinger and his scoundrels.




It’s a genre that has been treated rather well in cinema history. The last thing a person can claim is that it has been underused and under-appreciated. Whether in the United States or abroad, gangster movies have always found an audience and been successful. Some are less successful than others, but it can be said that making a gangster film is probably a safe bet. Public Enemies is an interesting case study. With the narrative, it follows the tried, tested an true plot of the gangster who had it all but due to various circumstances (of his own doing and not) eventually fell (since the film is inspired by the exploits of the real John Dillinger, it didn’t have much of a choice in the matter). Mostly due to Depp and Cotillard, the story movies along nicely, depicting Dillinger’s struggle with wanting a love in his life, his career as a bank robber, and his eventual failure to cope with the forces closing in on him when his partners and friends leave…or die. Simple enough, but done well at least. Depp and Cotillard have very good chemistry together in particular. Where things take a different turn is in the visual style applied by director Mann. The action was captured with a high-definition hand-held camera, the ones that are gaining tremendous popularity these days in film. Rather than provide the film with a typical slick Hollywood look, complete with careful steady cam shots and perfect panoramic views, Public Enemies has a gritty, ‘filmed on the go’ quality. The picture looks very good, but it takes a moment to grow accustomed to the very realistic, documentary atmosphere. As an experiment, Mann hits a home run. Pores on the skin are there for all to see, but that’s a minor complaint in an otherwise superb looking movie. Mann plays with the audiences expectations, many of whom might expect a glitzy show. If there’s something that disappoints, it would be in the handling of some shots in close quarters, when the camera sometimes moves frantically around, desperate to stay focused on the critical events in each scene. Such a technique can cause a dizzying effect, but thankfully the film doesn’t make this mistake all that often. There are more than enough beautiful shots to make up for it.



As a fan of gangster films in general and of director Michael Mann in particular, there were certain expectations that needed to be met. Public Enemies passed with flying colours. There is a reason why Johnny Depp graced the marketing posters. Christian Bale may be a big name in the industry, but this film is dominated by Depp’s presence. Dillinger is a fun character, but a three dimensional one as well. Hurt him and he bleeds, literally and figuratively. The film doesn’t dwell on the history of the man, nor does it make him the most complex person ever, but he is human and entertaining with his cocky and smooth attitude. Depp is memorable in the role with some great gangster lines which sound great with that Midwestern twang. Cotillard fares very well as Billie, the ‘lower class’ girl that Dillinger fancies. She’s an interesting choice as she delivers a lot of Americanized dialogue but with a definite French accent, this despite that her character grew up in the United States. That little oddity aside, there’s no question the actress can bring a character to life. For the most part she falls into the mould of the gangster’s girlfriend, but when such a role is filled by an actress like Cotillard, there’s still a special little bit of class to it. She doesn’t break new ground with the character, but it’s a fine performance nonetheless, especially in the latter scenes when she is under duress by the police. Billy Cudrup also appears in the story as J. Edgar Hoover, a desk man whose lack of experience in the field hasn’t hurt, in any shape or form, his ambition and public figure. Cudrup truly shines as Hoover, delivering lines with some real zest and spirit. It’s a supporting role only, but he’s great during every moment as this pompous and lively decision maker. Even in his limited time as Baby Face Nelson, Stephen Graham is incredibly amusing, even though the character is fairly one-dimensional. The actor who appears to receive the short end of the stick is Christian Bale. Like Johnny Depp, he’s proven more than enough times that he is a stellar actor but, admittedly, his Melvin Purvis isn’t the most engaging. He’s very workmanlike and so is the actor’s performance. No private life is shown, no downtime either. His arc within the story is mostly regarding the methods used to catch Dillinger. At first Purvis is convinced that he and his team of pretty boys, what with their police school training and all, will be more than equipped enough to handle the task at hand. It becomes apparent that Dillinger is far more ruthless and effective at evading capture than originally foreseen. Eventually Purvis must call on the help of some agents from the southern states who, suffice to say, don’t mind kicking some ass. Puvis eventually concedes that some more action-oriented manners may be better suited to end Dillinger’s reign of crime. Bale makes use of that steely glare of his, a smirk here and there, but not much more. In essence, Bale’s stature in the eyes of the movie buffs will probably determine how they react to this performance. I happen to like Bale a lot as an actor, so his mere presence was satisfying. There is a professionalism about the way he presents himself that I like personally, but it is understandable if that alone is insufficient for some. Many criticised the performance as utterly forgettable, and while I myself don’t echo that sentiment, I can see why such arguments emerged.



L.A Takedown, Heat, Collateral, Miami Vice and now Public Enemies. Writer and director Michael Mann loves telling stories about people on the right and wrong sides of the law confronting each other, whether head-on or during drawn out games of cat and mouse. In each of these films the viewer is given an intimate look into the characters they feature. Sometimes the result is balanced, as in Heat, other times it feels skewed towards a character on one side, as in Miami Vice (Crockett on the side of the law) and here in Public Enemies with Dillinger taking the spotlight. Mann goes for realism, both visually and for the story, while ensuring that his protagonists and antagonists are human. Public Enemies isn’t perfect by any means. As I’ve written, Bale, an excellent actor, doesn’t have much depth to work with and there are a couple of bizarre story related decisions, such as when Dillinger walks into a police station office without anybody taking notice (it’s a fun scene, but completely preposterous ). I’d still argue that it’s one of the better American mainstream films released in 2009.

Status Update

Hello again. So what is happening with the 'queer cinema marathon?' Good question. I think I simply thought it had been less time since the last marathon review, whereas in actuality, I haven't posted one in over a month! Many apologies. I will make a New Year's resolution to invest greater effort in providing marathon updates more consistent. As you can probably tell by now, there won't be any reviews for the 'queer cinema' marathon until at least after January 1st, so I decided to write some quick reviews for a mini-marathon that will occupy you readers until then. I kept things nice simple with a genre that I am quite familiar with, cops and crooks, and followed a theme (or attemtped to. I think I failed in one of my reviews actually) of characters who, regardless of which side of the law they are on, decide to bend and break it. I'll call this mini-marathon 'Long arms of the law' marathon. I hope you enjoy. We'll talk queer cinema just after the new year. Merry Christmas to my fans!

Nana (1926, Jean Renoir)
A

Jean Renoir silent films are uniquely visual. What the film cannot provide in voices for the characters, it makes up for with distinct and captivating visual cues, be it through the physicality he demands of his actors, the editing, the camera work, the colour palette, and even special effects featuring characters and objects which fade in and out like ghosts. Throughout the man’s career he would create movies in which the world where the stories transpire feel complete and fully realized. Renoir was a meticulous storyteller who presented conflicted characters often trapped in whirlpools of fate, no pun intended. This attention to detail in characters, story and the aesthetic elements are on display for the viewer’s pleasure in Nana, Renoir’s film adaptation of Émile Zola’s harsh story. Come to think of it, I doubt I’ve come across a Zola novel that wasn’t harsh.

Nana is a character. More specifically, she is a young woman working as a performer in a theatre group. Her talents may be questionable, but there is little doubt regarding her beauty. Many men, among them the count Muffat, his nephew and the Count Vandeuvres, are smitten by her. Time and time again this only leads to heartbreak and frustration for dear little Nana is incredibly vain and self serving. What matters to her is what she can extract from those foolish enough to take care of her, be it money, luxurious living spaces, trips, or favours in the acting business. In essence, she is a bad girl. The frustrating thing about her behaviour is that she is blind to her shameful attitude and treatment to those around her who crumble beneath her powers of seduction. It’s a twisted game of give and take in which men give their hearts and money and Nana takes it all.

The acting style that can be found in silent films such as Nana is only remote these days. Because the actors cannot talk, their physical expressions are all the more important, all the more detailed and emphasized. Granted, in film today (and since the advent of sophisticated sound in movies) there is acting which requires a great deal of physical investment. Crazed villains, action heroes, slapstick, physical comedy aimed at children, etc. I feel there is something different in how I pay attention to the acting in silent films. The viewer doesn’t have a choice because the characters cannot speak, every look, every gesture is infused with even greater importance. Catherine Hessling, who was Jean Renoir’s wife at the time, carries the film as Nana, whose energy and attitude is front and center. She is pre-Madonna, the unworthy diva, the disease against which men have no immunity. Her makeup is intentionally excessive. The artificiality of her character permeates through every pore of her body and right down her very core. The supporting players are also very interesting, among them the Werner Krauss and Jean Aangelo who portray both Count Muffat and Count Vandeuvres respectively. The former character is a chubby man with an obvious air of aristocracy about him. His long time friend Count Vandeuvres is tall and thin as well as a bit more reserved in his expressions. He’s a rather classy fellow, or at least appears as one at least, but he cannot shield himself from Nana’s poisonous appeal. I’d like to give some appreciation to Jean Angelo who plays the role of Vandeuvres. His presence was very much welcomed in so far that it established how Nana is dangerous to the point where she can ensnare anyone she desires. More stoic than Muffat, Vandeuvres would often have a look of curiosity, concentration, and reflection in his eyes. Although one of the themes of the story is the fallibility of men in the face of…pretty face and how they can give up too much when they think with their dicks, I nonetheless felt a little bit sad and disappointed to see poor Vandeuvre fall prey to Nana’s sexual witchcraft. But it would appear that no one is immune to her charms.



Renoir’s skill as a visual storyteller is quite impressive. Recently I watched La Fille de l’Eau for which Renoir also operated with an acute and eye catching style. In many respects, Nana, which was made a mere year later, feels even more accomplished. The story is loosely divided into chapters in which the mood and tone of the events shift, sometimes quite dramatically. On each occasion the picture is saturated with a different colour palette. The majority of the motion picture is brimming with a golden sheen. It is during this time that Nana begins her assent in the circles of high society. For her, it is a time of opportunity, a time when Nana sinks her claws into whatever bag of wealth she can. Clearly, the movie makes no assumptions about her manipulations even though Nana herself never realizes the full extent of the harm she is causing. Jealousies among the men begin to simmer, but they never boil. Essentially, trouble is brewing but there may be hope for these characters yet. Further into the story, once emotions begin to shift and the consequences of the of the men’s foolishness begins to press on everyone, Renoir paints with a different brush, sometimes a more stark black and white palette, other times preferring to dampen the tone of scenes even further with a contrast of black and dark blue. These transformations of the colour schemes may not sound as unique or particularly clever today in 2009, but remember that this is a film released in 1926, a time when movies was still a relatively young art form. Artistic expression at this level must have been quite impressive at the time. Even as I watched the movie the other night (as objectively as possible I imagine) the technique produced what I presume were the intended effects. I’ve also been taught to never assume anything, but I’ll continue on my high horse regarding the artistic and storytelling intentions of the technique. Nana may have even functioned as a precursor to future movies that adopted the same style.



Unsurprisingly I did not witness the movie in a theatre with a beautiful print, but rather in the comfort of my living room. The DVD was part of a 3 disc set which was released by Studio Canal and Lionsgate a few years back. The picture was quite good, but what really struck me was the score (clearly remastered for maximum effect). A great movie critic once said that the best move scores shouldn’t make themselves known but work on a subtle level. Well, in the case of older ‘silent’ films, the score must have a greater, more obvious impact. That of Nana is stellar, a pure joy to listen to. Granted, hearing crystal clear music accompanying a film that obviously looks very old was a bit of an odd experience, but I can’t stress enough how effective and beautiful the film’s score is. Much like the acting in the movie, it isn’t always subtle, but also very difficult to dislike

I haven’t read the original source material, therefore I’ll refrain from carrying out any sort of comparative study of the two products. However, I know what I like and this movie is rather good. Jean Renoir was a director whose talents as a very visual storyteller carried him throughout much of his career. The special effects, such as the appearance of the ghosts of the men who killed themselves following their defeats at the hands of Nana, and the cinematography techniques virtually always serve the story of the film. There is a remarkable creativity and skill in his direction that are so easy to appreciate.

Review: The Hitch-Hiker (1953)

The review below might read like it has a different tone than my usual reviews. It's actually a report about a movie that was suggested to me by a fellow message board member over at Filmspotting. The full review is a bit on the theatrical side. Below is a condensed version.



The Hitch-Hiker (1953, Ida Lupino)
B-

The Hitch-Hiker is, for the most, what I expected from it judging from the box presentation. The story follows the plight of two American low budget tourists travelling by car (Edmond O’Brien and the fantastic Frank Lovely) who, before ever enjoying the sights and sounds of Mexico, are held hostage by the infamously dangerous hitch-hiker Emmett Myers (William Talman) who needs to make a getaway

I’m tempted to say that The Hitch-Hiker could be categorized as what cinephiles name a ‘slow burn’ film, but upon second thought that is probably incorrect. It isn’t a very long movie and possesses quite an intimate feel and texture. Many of the scenes occur within the claustrophobic confines of an automobile and those which don’t do not feature much high octane action or especially striking moments, with the exception of a few. Nonetheless, whenever it feels like the viewer’ comfort level hasn’t been rattled in the last little while, co-writer and director Ida Lupino attempts to stir things up a bit. What struck the most about the story was its setting, that is, Mexico. Actually, not just Mexico, but the hot, dry, mostly barren Mexican countryside, and not the part where agriculture can be practiced. The more desert-like countryside. Our protagonists and their nefarious captor rarely come across bystanders, which makes their situation all the more stressful and uncomfortable. They can’t just yell at any Juan, Marta and José for help. They are stuck with this monster until they can figure a way to either escape or inhibit him. It’s always sunny and hot, which adds another dimension to their nightmare. There is a ring of bitter irony to their predicament when one thinks about it. They have all that space to run for their lives or drive off to safety, but as long as Emmett Myers has his gun and his eyes locked onto them, they cannot go anywhere. I liked that aspect of the film very much. It’s one thing to have a director’s touch or particular actors involved in a project, but when the filmmakers set things correctly from the start, which involves creating a story and developing a worthwhile setting for that story, then more often than not the film will have my interest. The film makes a clever use of space in that regard, with the risk of death hanging over their heads whether they are feeling each other’s breath inside the small car or feeling the unforgiving Mexican sun when outside.



With a brisk 70 minute running time, it is unsurprising that The Hitch-Hiker offers little in terms of character development. There are a few brief minutes in the early goings where the two American tourists chat about their travelling memories and their families just so we get the sense that these guys are good, regular blokes, but their purpose is served by being the victims of extraordinary and terrifying circumstances. I can’t say that is a bad thing however since it allows a viewer to easily imagine oneself in such a situation. The slate is pretty clean given how we are not familiar with the histories or the baggage of the protagonists. Our hitch-hiker from hell, Emmett Myers, is quite the specimen. Played to the hilt by William Talman, Myers is very much a ‘badass’ villain. He pulls no punches, kills without mercy, barks orders like an ogre and hates it when people ‘speak Mexican.’ Subtlety isn’t the name of the game here, but then again, I guess this isn’t the kind of movie where such an element is a prerequisite. There is a slight defect with his right eye that enables him to sleep with one eye open, literally. How’s that for a villain’s quirk? In fact, with a bit of cleaning up, I could envision this guy as a heavy in one of the earlier Bond flicks. He’s a filthy Le Chiffre. Heh.

More to the structure of the story though. Not every scene involves our bitter trio mind you. Given how Myers is a wanted criminal, Mexican and American authorities work in conjunction to track the car down (they pick up on the fact that our two protagonists have gone missing through and eye witness). I was relieved to discover that these scenes weren’t given half of the film’s running time, which could have easily been the case, because they felt dry, stiff and uninspired. A lot of talk resembling ‘Assuming Myers is heading in this direction…’, that didn’t strike me as all that necessary, or interesting for that matter. The fun is unquestionably found with the three main characters. Their misadventure is less a story with any significant ‘plot’, but rather a series of brief set pieces, some which are clever and effective, others less so. A pit stop at a small grocery store is one of the highlights (more of those ‘Stop speaking Mexican!’ complaints which are hysterical), as is the scene at night when the protagonists attempt to make an escape under Myers’ nose. Great stuff. Other moments work purely in terms of tension, but feel as though they’re working on shakier ground in terms of purpose within the film, such as when Myers forces his prisoners to play a modified version of the William Tell apple game. Interesting, but I was wondering why it was happening. I guess his reputation as cold hearted killer wasn’t enough to make the heroes understand that he is evil. Yeah, a little William Tell apple game should definitely make that clearer by now. I won’t give away the climax, but I was slightly underwhelmed. Without revealing in what context, I was surprised at how overpowering one of the heroes was when facing Myers one on one. It made the villain appear rather week suddenly, which supports his brutish attitude earlier on when he was in control of the firearms, but I couldn’t help but think: hmm, a bit of a pus** this guy is.



Finally, and this will sound anti-climactic, there is the fact that the director is Ida Lupino. The back of the DVD cover states that The Hitch-Hiker is the only film noir to be directed by a woman. Does that translate into anything significant, somehow, in the final product? I really didn’t think so. Truth be told, if the DVD cover hadn’t proudly stated that fact, I wouldn’t have cared at all. I don’t mean that in the sense that I don’t feel that women finding directorial work (especially in the 1950s after all) isn’t worthy of mention, but in this case, the viewer gets an interesting little thriller, no more, no less. I suppose that if one really wants to think hard about it they come up with some variety of ‘oh, but a woman directed a movie with violence and only male characters’ sort of argument, which I imagine meant something in the 1950s, but overall I think the female perspective is a non issue in The Hitch-Hiker. And if I may take a moment to really drill home my point, I think that is in fact what matters most. A woman directed a competent thriller, so what? In a better world, the world I enjoy pretending I live in, that wouldn’t be so extraordinary anyways. There.

Did I find The Hitch-Hiker to be particularly memorable? No. Does that mean it isn’t worth one’s time? Neither. It’s like Fatal Attractions, which was on the tele a couple of Saturdays ago. It was an entertaining diversion while it lasted, and in my book, that’s good enough.

Review: What Time is it There? (2001)

What Time is it There? (2001, Tsai Ming-Liang)
B


A familiar cast featuring Lee Kang-Sheng and Tien Miao among others returns for another Tsai Ming-Liang experience of storytelling about modern Taiwan in What Time is it There? After an opening few scenes in which Hsiao Kang’s (Lee Kang-Sheng) father apparently passes away, something interesting occurs one day as he is selling watches on the streets of Taipei. A young woman named Shiang-chyi(actress Shiang-chyi Chen) approaches him in search of a dual time watch for her trip to Paris. After much pleading on her behalf, she succeeds in convincing him to sell off the one he owns despite its sentimental value. The girl must have had quite an impression on the young lad, for from that point onward, and for the remainder of the film, Hsiao Kang will spend of his efforts on changing the time on the clocks around Taipei in accordance with Parisian time. All the while his mother will persistently perform little acts and rituals around the home in the hopes that her late husband will return, reincarnated in nonhuman form.



Watching Taiwanese filmmaker Tsai Ming-Liang’s film What Time is it There? raised two thoughts to my mind. The first is that Tsai is a quintessential ‘auteur’ filmmaker, a director who unquestionably brings his own voice to the art of movie making. Anybody reading this who frowns on those who support the auteur theory need only watch movies like Vivre L’Amour, The River and What Time is it There? There is something very distinct about Tsai’s camera work, his choice of actors and the kind of stories he tells. There is even a commonality of the themes and tones of those stories. This leads me to the second thought that occupied my mind while watching this movie: his movies really do look alike after a while. Some directors are very much auteurs but create different worlds whenever they make a different film. Tsai seems to make different chapters all related to the same world, with the same textures and while the tones of these chapters are not identical, they are to me very similar. Long scenes, with cameras resting at great lengths on actors while they smoke, eat, walk, lie on beds, look into the distant as they ponder on their feelings and whatever inner turmoil may be disrupting them. It’s not a bad style, far from it in fact, only that after watching a third Tsai film…it begins to feel like a lot of the same. I’m well aware that Tsai has made other movies than the three I have watched, and I shall undoubtedly discover the others at some point in the future, but for the moment, I feel as if I’ve digested a sufficient dose of his style. The writer director has a fascination with the modern Taiwanese society, how that modernity has moulded the society he knows, what inner family relationships are like today, what it’s like to be a young adult, professional or not, in this society, and so on. Hey, they guy is from Taiwan after all and more power to him if he has a lot to say about his home country. I won’t necessarily tell him to do otherwise, but I am starting to wonder what this man’s range as a director is like. Maybe he doesn’t need great range if his interest rests primarily in one major idea, albeit with several possible stories that may be told within that major idea. In fact, there were several moments in What Time is it There? that immediately reminded of scenes from both The River and Vivre L’Amour. The opening scene featuring Hsiao Kang’s father (who also played the father in The River) smoking a cigarette at a table, Shiang chyi’s sad stare at the very end of the film, Shiang chyi’s pseudo lesbian night with a Hong Kong woman who helped earlier in the day, the petty bickering between Hsaio Kang and his mother at the dinner table, Hsiao Kang’s habit of peeing in plastic bags or bottles at night, etc. I felt as if I was playing a game of contrast and compare with the other films I had seen almost more than I was watching a unique piece of cinema. In a strange sense, even though I have admiration for what Tsai does as a filmmaker and still thoroughly enjoyed this film, I still feel like I’m getting diminishing returns with every new movie I watch. None of the three I’ve seen have been bad, on the contrary, they have all been good, but I can’t help but feel that they have all felt pretty much the same. There are some staunch Tsai Ming-Liang supporters out there, I even know some over at Filmspotting, so if any of you happen to be reading this, I hope I’m not giving a particularly negative mood to this review. I’m still recommending the movie. I can’t imagine anybody who has seen a Tsai film before not enjoying this one.



That isn’t to say this movie doesn’t have its moments. The final scene, which reserves something pretty special for the viewer, is expertly crafted, and many of the Shiang-chyi scenes as she visits some atypical Paris surroundings or spends late nights in her hotel room, were very captivating. A few scenes involving Hsiao Kang and clocks, whether because he was changing the position of the arms or because he was steeling them (I’m referring to the scene at the cinema) were quite funny and entertaining. Those involving his mother performing what nonreligious people would consider to be ‘silly’ acts based on faith and superstition were less compelling. The to and fro snickering between her and Hsio Kang wasn’t that interesting and, based on what I just wrote about in the above paragraph, was too reminiscent of certain scenes from The River. Of the three Tsai films I have watched, I’d argue this one has the most attractive colour palette. There is something very rich in the tones and texture of the scenes in this film. This quality was present in The River but really comes out to shine here. The shadow and lighting are exquisitely managed to set the mood of the movie, particularly for the indoor sequences. I think many of the scenes occurring in Hsiao Kang home, while they don’t strike me as memorable for the dialogue between the character and his mother, were some of the most pleasing to the eye for their aesthetic qualities. And more to the point of Hsio Kang’s domestic scenes and their relation to those involving Shiang-chyi Chen in Paris, I found the latter ones more interesting than the former. I think Lee Shang-Keng is an interesting and very good actor, and he does an admirable job in this film, but Shiang-chyi Chen was the most interesting player overall. Her decision to visit Paris alone despite not speaking any French, thus spending most of her time in Paris feeling very alone, made for some curiously enjoyable moments. There is something very attractive about her aura as an actress, in addition to the obvious fact that she’s rather cute.

What Time is it There? has some great moments, but overall I will limit myself to saying that it is a good film, a few beats shy from being great. Perhaps had I seen this Tsai movie first instead of Vivre L’Amour my feelings would be different, or maybe if this film had been one of Tsai’s earlier efforts and not one of his more recent ones. On its own, there isn’t a whole lot to fault the film for, except for some of the mother/son scenes and other moments where the camera lingers a bit too long characters (much like one of my complaints for The River, go figure). Having said that, the movie looks great, features strong performances and goes for something interesting in the late stages as events in Taipei and Paris seem to be connected for some unknown reason. I enjoy this writer director’s work, but I may just be taking a breather from his filmmography for the next little bit.

Review: Kanal (1957)

Kanal (1957, Andrzej Wajda)
A


The Warsaw Uprising, like so many other events that transpired during the nightmare that was the Second World War, is a great subject for a film, and who better to tackle the topic than the great Polish director Andrzej Wajda. The film was brought to life in 1956 (released in 1957), a reasonably short time following World War II and during a period of great tension between Poles and Russians, the latter whom had extended their political and cultural arms of influence over Poland during this early decade of the Cold War. Despite censorship regulations, the film nonetheless found its audience, and director Wajda became an important cinematic voice around the world. Kanal even earned the Special Jury Prize at the 1957 Cannes film festival.

Kanal is inspired by a true story about a band of resistance fighters and civilians during the Warsaw Uprising who, in order to flee their crumbling hideout and make it to a 'safer' section of the city, must navigate their way through the maddening maze that is the underground sewer system. The film begins in economical fashion with a nameless narrator briefly explaining the status quo and introduces each of the main characters the viewer will follow throughout the story as they march in a line one after the other, avoiding enemy fire amongst the ruins of a decadent city. The narrator pulls a fast one on the viewer upon announcing that these are the last few hours of their lives. Wha, wha, what!?!. The setups only lasts about 20 minutes or so before the characters embark on the perilous journey in the canals of the underground, but just enough is done to establish most of them, providing the viewer with something to latch on to. They aren't merely dirty faces, but people whom we would like to see make it out alive. Of course, the revelation earlier from the narrator arguably heightens the viewer's sensibilities and attachment to this band of doomed souls, thus we will them onward to their rendez-vous point. Amongst the members of this crew are Zadra, the cynical captain of the group who goes against his better instincts in order to see his people to safety, Slim, who is tall and skinny and all gun ho about charging the enemy and doesn't like the idea of abandoning their post, Jacek, young and energetic, but whose brashness gets him into some trouble early in the film, Daisy, who is Jacek's main squeeze and who probably has bigger balls than most of the men we see in the film, and Michael, a nervous pianist who only wishes to see his wife and daughter alive again. This is but to name a few, so it is forgivable if not everyone the viewer meets is a fully developed character. Following an attack by the Nazis from which our heroes survive but not without a degree of difficulty, Zadra receives orders that that they are no longer required there. Too dangerous. Other sections of the city are now safer and have become priority. You know the drill. Zadra gets his troops and the civilians among them to gather up their essential items and make their way to the sewers and reach their destination a few streets away. And so begins a frustrating and hellish trek through filth, darkness and an impending sense of doom which begins to infect them.

From this point onward, Kanal takes on another atmosphere altogether. Up until then, the viewer has been privy to a typical WWII film. A well made one to be sure, but one that appears to follow a familiar formula with a familiar setting. From the moment Zadra and his followers enter the sewer tunnels, the film adopts a completely different life. It’s dark and shadowy (forgive the filmmakers for having the set sit. After all, a real dark sewer would have been rather boring), the tunnels quickly begin to resemble one another, the fatigue and frustration set themselves in the minds and bodies of our heroes, the lack of fresh air affects them, the resistance group is inadvertently split into three smaller bands, and then there are those frightened people running past them madly, claiming that the enemy is gassing the sewers. There are odd fumes flying about suddenly… There is a monumental battle between despair and determination that is inflicted on the emotional and psychological stability of the resistance fighters which is quite haunting. Some characters, such as Zadra, Slim and Daisy, dig deep and find some resolve to push onward, while others like Michael and Jacek are crumbling under the weight of the situation and with every step and crawl they take. The movie had me questioning my own bravery and how I would behave if forced to experience such a scenario. One slogs their way forward, there is a pending fear of being gassed (if that really is gas that is floating around), one loses strength with each and every further step, and once one turns a corner…they are met with the stoic stare of a dead end. Worse still is the claustrophobic nature of the sewer canals, where one has only limited space, no natural light and can only move or backward. And what if one is separated from the rest of the group, left to find their way through the filthy maze with the one bloke who keeps repeating that you are all doomed and there is no point in going on? Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!



Clearly, I had a significant reaction to the film. The aesthetic of the sewer scenes, witnessing the fall of certain people who seemed invincible not long ago, the determination of others in an increasingly desperate situation (that darn revelation from the anonymous narrator still haunting me), the stressful interactions amongst comrades, all this made for a remarkable viewing experience. Whether the characters, prior to their figurative and literal decent into hell, had been brash, kind, cynical, heroic, annoying or even drunkards, it is something else entirely to witness their deterioration, their fragility and ultimately their failure. It lends a degree of universality to the movie watching experience that is difficult to capture. Only the right ingredients in film can tap into such emotions. Other variables include the moment when you are experiencing the film. Young, old, good mood, foul mood, morning, night, sunny day, rainy day, all these will dictate elicit different reactions. Well, there was certainly something in the air of my living room the other day when discovering Kanal.



Much like another war movie we only just discussed, Kathryn Bigelow’s The Hurt Locker, I was surprised by how apolitical this movie felt. Clearly, there are themes of survival, hope and hopelessness as well as the real life backdrop of the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. The elements are ripe for exploration in cinema, but Kanal doesn’t pander to any obvious political message. The viewer do not even see very much of the Nazis in the film. We observe the result of war via the dilapidated condition of once proud Warsaw, the depression and anger in the eyes of many members of the resistance, and the physical price many victims of war must pay, but the enemy and its physical incarnation that is the Nazi army force, is pretty much absent for the great majority of the running time. Even in the early attack, the assault is performed with a tank and a smaller armoured vehicle, both faceless mechanical monsters inexorably approaching the last remaining hideout of Zadra’s resistance group. Rather, the real enemy takes on a more psychologically frightening shape. The omnipresence of death and decay, which in turns shatters the spirit of many of our heroes, is what truly attacks the protagonists on all fronts. The physical pain leads to emotional pain and finally to the unforgivable and unforeseeable psychological pain. The characters, while still being their own persons as defined in the opening 20-25 minutes of the film, are also vehicles which exemplify this reality of warfare.

I think I’ve bombarded the readers of this review with enough of my thoughts on the film. It was rather difficult for me to formulate the thoughts and feelings I have towards Wajda’s film. I haven’t even mentioned any of the individual performances, nor the editing, nor even the cinematography, a testament to how much I have to say about Kanal. I haven’t the faintest idea whether or not any of you who might read this review will take the time to discover the movie and share my reactions or not. I can only recommend the film, and recommend it highly at that.

Review: The Hurt Locker (2009)

The Hurt Locker (2009, Kathryn Bigelow)
B+

The Hurt Locker took may people by surprise this past summer. Amidst the Harry Potters, the Revenge of the Fallens and the Happy Peoples came a film about American soldiers stationed in present day Iraq. It was helmed by Kathryn Bigelow, a director whose previous efforts varied from fair to average, and the added factor of another Iraq war themed film coming our way, there was a slight cause for concern. The early buzz was overwhelmingly positive, with detractors really being far and few between. As I entered the dark air conditioned room with a disgustingly sticky floor, I hadn't seen any trailers, I was unfamiliar with the filmmography of the cast, and I still didn't know what exactly the story was except that it involved an anti-bomb squadron. Interestingly enough, I recall that it was playing on 2 or 3 screens at the local multiplex, so it was obviously a 'big' release.

First and foremost, as an action film, it is mightily impressive and entertaining. I haven't looked at the numbers pertaining to the film's budget, but it feels like an expensive endeavor, and that's all that matters. There are a handful of scenes in which our heroes, SSgt William James (Jeremy Renner), Sgt. JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Sgt. Owen Eldridge (Brian Geraghty) who make up this anti-bomb unit, are involved in moment of surprisingly tension. The key word here is in fact 'tension.' The viewer will of course see bombs go off and some bullets fly, but the most successful scenes are those that have SSgt. James attempting to defuse an explosive device with his two comrades covering his back as potential enemies surround them. Are the onlookers innocent bystanders whose curiosity got the better of them or are they legitimate threats who hope to foil the unit's goal? Will SSgt. James even succeed in neutralizing the mechanism? These are such simple concepts, and yet when used as they are in The Hurt Locker, they are remarkably effective. Rather than being a purely action-oriented film, which is what many have qualified it as, myself included, it is far more of the thriller genre. That being said, there is one intense action scene which has our band of protagonists and a group of British contractors pinned down in a small pit-like are in the desert by sniper shooters hidden in front of and behind them. This scne is yet another perfect example of effective editing and cinematography. It is mature filmmaking in that it allows the viewer to understand the geography of the moment. The movie is aided by an all-around effective directing style, one that shows a sufficient amount of competence in handling action and suspense without ever resorting to any overbearing sense of style.

In addition to being a solid piece of entertainment, Bigelow's outing, also shows off some more cerebral muscles. Between all these bomb diffusion missions are a number of compelling character based moments. It is during these moments that we learn how frighteningly comfortable William James is in this environment. He is as far removed from the typical soldier who 'just wants to make it back home.' as can be. Instead, James feels the most alive and excited when starring death in the face during their assignments. The stress, the danger and the notion that any slight error may lead to oblivion are taken as moments of tremendous thrills and allows him to be himself, no more and no less. He shows cockiness not only in the face of danger, in the face of his comrades as well. When pressed for time and with lives on the brink of extinction (including his own), that is precisely when he demonstrates the least amount of fallibility. What makes the character of William James all the more a conundrum is the reality that he has a family back in the United States, including a child who requires some upbringing. And yet, it is in Iraq, a place where admitting that one is American does not earn one many popularity points, and where he continuously plays deadly games of chess with the wiring of explosives that he is at his very best. The aggressiveness of this world is what fuels above all else. The final minutes of the film exemplify this perfectly, whereupon after returning 'home' for a short period to spend time with his family, our hero re-enlists to perform more bomb-diffusion acrobatics under the hot Iraqi sun. There is no shortage of films featuring characters who enjoy 'living on the edge,' but I'd wager that The Hurt Locker is a cut above most of them.

Over at the Filmspotting message boards there is a discussion tread dedicated to the movie, but the exchanges have not been limited to the obvious topic of the film's technical merits or lack thereof. They also concerned the topicality and political relevance of Bigelow's effort. Some very perceptive comments were made, many of which pertained to what thematic relationships exist between the world of the film and the real world American involvement in Iraq and whether or not the story takes a pro-war or anti-war stance. While I absolutely agree that some compelling cases can be made and that there is undoubtedly value to those discussions, I'm more impressed with how apolitical the film is. It is a series of sequences with people trying to diffuse bombs in a hostile environment. Iraq is indeed a sublime setting for such an adventure, but The Hurt Locker nonetheless shies away from being overtly political, and I admire it all the more for that. Kathryn Bigelow and the screenwriter Mark Boal preferred to concentrate their efforts on creating a character based action thriller. The Iraqi setting adds a topical flavour, but the film doesn't have to take political stances because of that choice. As I have already written, one can assuredly make connections between the movie and the realities of war or the reality of present day Iraq, but the film can easily live independently of them.

The film did reasonably well during its theatrical run, although it was ultimately overrun by the more obvious summer fair which played at the same time. I hope more people will discover it on DVD or Bluray in the years to come. If you enjoy action and thrills, I cannot think of a reason why you shouldn't check out The Hurt Locker.

Review: This Sporting Life (1963)

This Sporting Life (1963, Lindsay Anderson)
A

After a productive career as a director of documentaries, Lindsay Anderson ventured into the world of fictional storytelling in the early 1960s, although the filmmaker's documentary sensibilities could still be felt. One of his first feature films was This Sporting Life in 1963, which shares the tale of a minor turned successful rugby player star named Frank Michen (Richard Harris, in tip top shape) in Yorkshire, a town which had been the focus of one of the director's previous documentaries. The protagonist currently lives in the home of Mrs. Margaret Hammond (Rachel Roberts, appropriately icy), a widow and mother of two who rents Frank a room. The film's narrative is served in non-chronological order at first and is comprised of Frank's recollections about his time with Mrs. Hammond. This technique is used until about the 2/3 mark when the viewer has fully caught up with the history of their relationship and the tale continues in the proper traditional order.

Anderson'S film carries significant emotional weight. The characters, as we meet them, emerge from less than glorious pasts and must wrestle with a tumultuous present and conflicting emotions. Frank is a man whose emotions get the better of him most of the time. There seems to be a chip on his shoulder 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. His previous profession as a minor surely added to his toughness, although through Richard Harris' performance the viewer can identify that there is something much greater eating away at his insides. One element could be his lot in life before reaching his current status as a rugby player. The luck of the draw that others have had, such as the money mongering owners his of club, would be another. The brutal poundings and unforgiving afternoons on the always muddy Northern England rugby fields. Most of all, and at least pertaining to this chapter in the man's life, it is the obstinate refusal of Mrs. Hammond, Margaret as he begins to call her by her first name, to accept the version of happiness that Frank offers her. Margaret rarely displays any signs of warmth or pleasantness, preferring to perform her daily chores in utter seriousness, with a hint of bitterness in her gaze and verbal language. With her husband now gone, she is definitely in survival mode with her children, but the memory of her late husband haunts and still complicates matters once Frank, in his suitably unsubtle fashion, begins to develop and express his attraction to her. The balance of power goes on between a desire to find love or some form of happiness, and his naturally angry, abrasive self, which doesn't permit him to become someone easy to love, or even like for that matter. This struggle from within as well as his incomprehension towards Margaret's stubborn attitude, are what define him as a character.

Richard Harris' job is to convey these conflicting and powerful realities, and convey them he most certainly does. Even upon acquiring a higher societal status (relatively speaking) thanks to his relative success on the rugby pitch, Frank shows that he hasn't changed much. There will always be something clumsy about him, the source of which can found in his overwhelming rush of anger and dissatisfaction. The performance by Harris has been praised on many an occasion and there is little I can add in this review that will break new ground. I truly think it is of the highest order, and at times very loud and at times even slightly touching. Mostly loud though.



Rachel Roberts is not to be overlooked however. What she lacks in the departments of brute strength she makes up for in bitterness and her own sense of dissatisfaction, the results of her inability to let go of the past. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Her cold demeanor towards Frank, particularly when he makes genuine attempts at lightening her mood(awkward as those attempts may seem to many of us), is enough to reveal that her heart has been turned black. Her character is a fascinating puzzle. After all, Frank is truly attempting to lift her spirits and hopefully guide her towards some happiness. Should she not accept this, or least give in a little bit and let go of this unwelcoming exterior shell? There is a case to be made there. Conversely however, we the audience know that Frank's emotions are unstable even during the best of times, and Margaret knows this as well. By opening up to him, she may very well be incurring the risk of more frustration at some point down the road. There is a case to be made there too. Two deeply flawed people who unquestionably require some stability in their lives, but who in the end may not be the least bit compatible. And yet their dance continues, the first steps of which are always initiated by Frank.

Adapted as a screenplay by David Storey, the man who authored the novel of the same name, This Sporting Life is qualified as a 'kitchen sink drama' and as one of the greatest British films ever made. I unfortunately have not seen a sufficient number of British films in order to confidently agree with the latter statement. I can argue that the film is a whalloping punch, with characters who we wish could be better, or find a way to become better in their minds or hearts, but who are ultimately destined to live with the pains they have been cursed with. Reality bites very hard sometimes.

Review: The River (1997)

The River (1997, Tsai Ming-Liang)
B

Xiao-Kang, played by Kang-sheng Lee, is a young adult drifting aimlessly through life, just like a dying leaf lying on a pond with a slight breeze whisking it along the water. The opening scene of the movie makes this abundantly clear, whereupon an old acquaintance of Xiao-Kang asks him what he is occupying himself in life. All the young gun can provide are bashful replies of 'nothing' and 'not much.' She invited Xiao-Kang to join her on a movie set where she currently works. Fate has it that the director needs an extra to play the role of a floating corpse in a Taipei river, but this seemingly inoffensive act ends up having significant consequences for our protagonist. Shortly after this brief introduction into filmmaking, Xiao-Kang begins to experience an steadily growing pain in his neck, one that plagues him for the remainder of the film.


The River's DVD cover features several quotes from various critics who shower the film with praise, saying it is an honest depiction of modern Taiwan. The synopsis on the back of the DVD cover reads how the film is a brilliant snapshot of the modern, increasingly fractioned Taiwanese family structure. I discovered Tsai's skill as a director at the tender age of 1 year ago, when I saw his 1994 effort Vivre L'Amour. It was therefore with a sense of anticipation that I borrowed The River from my local library. By the end of the film, I had the same feeling when I have finished eating a plate of fresh fish which is lacking some correct spices. It's certainly good, but I wanted a little bit more.

First and foremost, I want to applaud the performance given by Kang-sheng Lee. As his character's neck experiences increasing levels of pain, Lee must continuously act out an awkward tick by jerking his neck to the left. It may not sound like much, but pause and reflect about that for a moment. You are an actor and the director asks you to perform this annoying tick through most of the shoot. Scenes need to be shot, then re-shot, and re-shot again until they are perfect. There are also some lengthy scenes in the film as well! It seems to me that would get frustrating really quick. Not only must that be difficult work after a while for the actor involved, but ironically enough the growing annoyance works well within the story itself on many levels. At the beginning of the movie, Xiao-Kang was already a young man alienated from his mother and father, both an elevator operator and a bum/closet homosexual respectively. Their family unit, in this modern and late 20th century world, is rapidly falling apart, no longer tightly knit with the traditional elements of love and respect which typically bond us to our own families. Family, if you will, has sort of become a 'pain in the neck' for Xiao-Kang if you know what I mean. His meandering lifestyle, which resulted in his earning a severe neck pain, has forced him back together with his father most, the latter whom brings him to various doctors and healers. It's a complicated relationship, that between Xiao-Kang and his father. One of the best scenes in the film, and the type of scene I had hoped would feature more prominently throughout the movie, has Xiao-Kang and his father eating at a restaurant. The young man's pain seems to be 'eating away' his appetite, as he refuses to eat the food his father has ordered. After a few honest attempts at getting Xiao-Kang to take some bites, his father receives a harsh reply from his son. The father then continues to eat his own dish, but only now he is facing the other way, avoiding eye contact with his impolite son.

It is also interesting to note how each subsequent doctor and healer that Xiao-Kang visits practices more and more unorthodox methods ('unorthodox' when compared to how we generally expect patients to be treated). Painful massages, the good old 'plenty of needles sticking out of your hand' treatment, etc. With each new treatment comes a new sense of hope, although that hope for a return to normality my already be quickly fading, just like the hope to return to the older days when their family happenings were healthier as well. Xiao-Kang tries everything to rid himself of this horrible pain, but all attempts are futile. Sometimes you just have to live with the pain. 'No pain, no gain,' as the old saying goes.

There are a few too many scenes that, to my mind, indulged in themselves. One of the themes of the film, connected to that of the crumbling family structure, is that of loneliness and a lack of human communication. The scene I briefly discussed above between Xiao-Kang and his father at the restaurant, exemplifies this brilliantly, but there are others that feel a bit too 'on the nose' and seem to exist only to pad on the running time. I understand that to feel the theme of loneliness and tediousess one should experience it with the characters, but sometimes I just wasn't into it. One scene occuring just outside a MacDonald's with two characters walking past each other about 5 billion times is a good example of one I felt the film just didn't need. The scene near the beginning where the viewer learns that the director's fake dead body is unsuitable for the scene seems to take forever to finish, even though I'm sure in actuality it only lasted about 3 or 4 minutes.

An intriguing tone, a brilliant performance by the leading man, Kang-sheng Lee and handful of great scenes make The River a worthwhile experience for fans of recent Taiwanese cinema, although I woulnd't consider this a perfect film by any means.

Status Update

Hello! So, no reviews since October 19th. What's up with that? Well, obtaining the films I want to watch for the 'European Female Directors' marathon has been a bit tricky. Let's be honest, this marathon has not been about movies that you don't pick up by the dozen at your local HMV or Future Shop.

That isn't to say we are giving up. No, we certainly are not. That being said, in case you haven't noticed, there has been somewhat of a hiatus for the last couple weeks. Instead of leaving the site to eat dust, I've decided that in the meantime I'll post some brief reviews of films I,ve been watching lately. That should fill up some space for about a week. The 'European Female Directors' marathon should be back soon enough.
Enjoy!