Review: Lebanon

Lebanon (2009, Samuel Maoz)

B-

High concept movies are a tricky bunch. Naturally, they always begin with an interesting idea, one that grabs the interesting of the audience immediately because it makes them question how exactly the story will unfold under the unique, well defined and often peculiar circumstances the filmmakers have determined. In the case of 2009’s Lebanon, from Israeli Samuel Maoz, the viewer, much like the film’s four central characters, are stuck in an old, greasy tank during the Lebanon war in 1982. Under the guidance of Gamil, a captain who is patrolling the urban warfare areas with his troops by foot, our young and weary foursome of tank dwellers are asked to protect the foot soldiers as their platoon performs what they think is cleanup duty in a Lebanese town which has already been the victim of significant air raids.

Shumlik, Herzel, Yigal and Asi, the tank’s captain, are the protagonists who must witness the devastation and stress brought upon by modern warfare from their aging, cluttering and clanking steel made contraption. Early on in the movie the camera shows a small crest plastered on the inside wall of the assault vehicle that ironically states how men are made of steel whereas tanks are merely junk. It’s an interesting and à propos little nod to the emotional and psychological build up that is surely emphasized on in the military and before combat to get the troops’ adrenaline running. Ironically enough, it would appear that the crest which decorates the filthy wall was placed there by the previous team who manned the tank because from early on the audience is given clear indications that this foursome is not so fearsome after all. Whether it is due to their youth or perhaps some false pre-conceived notions of what warfare is all about, from the moment trouble begins to stir the team’s capabilities of functioning adequately are put into serious doubt. Botched opportunities to wipe oncoming enemies, incompatible personalities and an overall lack of composure are but some of the evil seeds which plant themselves firmly in their claustrophobic little bit of breathing space.

Lebanon had the making of a film that would grab the audience straight from the get go with some high tension scenes and not let go until the very end. The idea that the entire story would be told from the interior of a military tank held a lot of promise for several reasons. The camera, which serves as the audience’s eyes are ears, cannot leave the confinement of the vehicle, so there are several moments when the tension mounts due to the mostly hidden nature of what transpires on the outside. The only eye to the outside world the viewer and the characters are privy to is the tank driver’s cross air. The zoom factor for the cross air also served for some interesting visual cues that were at times borderline voyeuristic. The restrictive vision to the outside world made for some very intense scenes when trouble was brewing in the surrounding areas. These searches for the source of oncoming enemy fire during the battles scenes do a decent job at putting the viewer in the shoes of the tank’s crew. The sequences when the driver is just observing the remnants of the destroyed urban area were far less convincing however. The cross air (and thus the camera) will sometime rest on the face of an angry Arab who stares at the cross air as we are looking at him and at one point the driver keeps following a naked woman who has just survived the bombing of her apartment which resulted in the death of her husband and young daughter. In these moments the film was trying too hard to elicit some sort of emotional reaction from the viewer. A lot of it has to do with timing in instances such as these and I felt as though the camera would rest on the bystanders or the victims of violence for too long, almost as though it didn’t trust the audience enough had to make things as obvious and didactic as possible.



The character relations are of interest in Lebanon given how Samuel Maoz keeps them nice and tight with the tank. It’s pretty obvious that the crew is relatively young, with oldest perhaps in his early to mid thirties at most. Most of them don’t really want to be there at all, especially Shmulik, who consistently questions Asi’s authority, thus creating some strain between the two. I suppose we could designate Shmulik as the smart ass, or obnoxious one of the bunch. Whatever decision is taken, be it by Asi or Gamil who transfers his own orders via radio communication (although he does pop in from time to time to speak to the crew directly), one can be certain that Shmulik will show at least a minimal form of resistance. The only other crew member however who is given any significant characterization is the so called leader, Asi. At first he does his best to impose his authority, although with Shmulik around it often falls on deaf ears. Then again, Asi rarely, if ever provides discernable reasons for some of the decisions he opts for, which therefore invites to question his true abilities as a leader. The other two crew members feel quite superficial. An opportunity to build up some memorable characters in a memorable setting is therefore somewhat lost. They aren’t total blank slants, the movie does try to give them some simple traits, but there isn’t a whole lot to chew on. A shame.



Overall, I would argue that Lebanon’s first half is really decent despite that I felt the characters were a bit under-developed. The set design was superb with all the steam and filth infesting the tank and I enjoyed following Gamil’s platoon from the inside of this ancient vehicle. The movie started out with a certain ambition that caught my attention and was playing its cards well overall, but, much like the crew members themselves, the film loses its way somewhere during the second half. It was a bit odd because it felt as though director Y, for right or wrong, suddenly thought ‘Oh gosh, I set my entire film in a tank and we’ve mostly just been patrolling a decimated Lebanese town with a few incidents here and there. I had better start throwing more things into the mix otherwise this will get boring.’ While not completely blown away (no pun intended), I though the first half was interesting enough and I wouldn’t minded at all had Lebanon simply continued down that same trajectory. Director Y clearly felt otherwise and thought it best to include several new variables during the last 30-40 minutes of the movie which don’t necessarily make the story any better. In fact, I felt things got a bit clunky near the end. A Syrian prisoner of war is thrown into the tank, a Falangist (Christian Arab) comes in on occasion to taunt the former in Arabic about how he is going to cut off the prisoner’s balls, Asi’s mental stability seems to melt away and he begins to talk strange à la Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now, and the film’s climax and final shot feel rushed, sadly. The focus of the film is lost at some point and I’m not sure director Y knew exactly how to get things back on track. The addition of the Syrian prisoner is a prime example because that character is brought into this confined space but only seems to be a factor on and off. The POW’s presence doesn’t add anything, but every once in a while the movie will takes a few minutes to have a scene that is concerned with him. That, in essence, encapsulates my sentiments on the director’s storytelling decision during the latter stages of the film: things are adding just for the sake of adding them. These things might happen during wartime, I wouldn’t contest that, certainly not with my limited knowledge of the Lebanese war of the 80s. But some things can’t just be done in a film to add authenticity, they need to serve the story.

Despite its weaker second half, I still believe Lebanon to be worth recommending. The premise might sound more promising than the end product, but that isn’t to say the product in question is unworthy. There are a number of solid scenes, some of which study the character relations of the crew members while others are more action-oriented and concentrate on the fury that rages outside. I just think the script required some more polish before all the shooting, both literal and figurative, began.

2 years old

2 years already.

It was in September of 2008 that we at Between the Seats had this wild idea of writing and publishing film related reviews on our own blog. I still recall it was like back then, when I was a total newbie to this increasingly popular ‘blogging’ thing. What colours do I chose? What font do I choose? WHAT DO I EVEN NAME MY BLOG?!? After careful reflection (which, if memory serves me right, lasted about 20 minutes) I registered this little bundle of joy you see before you now on your computer screens. Those first few months were a bit tough and I wasn’t sure how long I’d keep it up, but I figure that it could be useful to put my writing skills to the task since I tend to find pleasure in jotting down thoughts into grammatically correct phrases.

I’d have to say that for about 3 or 4 months, the only readers, and they were indeed few, were other members of the Filmspotting message board, which I had been frequenting since the fall of ’07. I learned that blogging is a funny thing. Some of us might say that we just want to write for ourselves and care little for who and how many people visit our sites, but the truth, I suspect, is a bit different. I mean, is it not the least bit gratifying when people leave comments at the end of your articles? Of course it is, let’s not kid ourselves here. It became increasingly obvious that in order to earn some credentials among my new found peers, I would have to spread my horizons and take a plunge into the ocean of movie blogs and start ‘connecting’, if you will. Some blogs weren’t worth the time, some were alright, while others were (and still are) excellent. I started leaving comments and the hosts, the best ones, tended to answer back. Hence, connections were made.

Suddenly some bloggers I had visited and shared some thoughts with were visiting Between the Seats! I gained further understanding of the tools offered by Blogspot, like ‘links’ and that ever so useful ‘follow’ tool. There are so many aspects about blogging that one must juggle in order to become good at it. You want to find good material across the net either for inspiration or just for pleasure or information. You also want people to visit your own blog, but the key to that is the dance of give and take required to create those essential connections. To be a blogger really means being part of a community. There is no such thing as being on a lonely island if one wants to blog. Uh-uh, it really doesn’t work that way. It’s tough finding some quality writing on the net these days. Anybody can host a site or write for a blog. Very little skill is required to do just that, but a lot more creativity, class and openness towards others is a necessity if you actually want to be good at it.

I’d like to thank all those who visit Between the Seats, whether you’ve been around since September of 08 or just discovered us last week. Equally important, if not more so, is that I want to thank all of you who blog as well. It comes back to that notion of ‘give and take’ I mentioned before. If Between the Seats is still around, you, the other bloggers I visit, probably had a lot to do with that. If any of you reading this were to take something away from reading this post, I’d like it to be the following: if you happen to stumble upon a blog you’ve never heard of and you genuinely like what you find, let the author know. Trust me, they’ll appreciate it.

Thanks again.
Edgar Chaput

Review: Machete

Machete (2010, Robert Rodriguez)
B

Directly inspired by a mock trailer which appeared in 2007’s Grindhouse, Machete is a very Grindhouse-like adventure filled to the brim with sufficient nudity, crass language and over the top gory violence to satisfy the needs of just about any schlock film connoisseur. Workaholic actor Danny Trejo stars as a Mexican ex-federal marshal named Machete (and pronounce with a Spanish ring to it, will you?) who in the opening scenes learns just how corrupt his country has become while performing one of his last jobs before being exiled to the United States. After spending 3 years north of the border as a down on his luck labourer, he is hired by Booth (Jeff Fahey), a sleazy business who shall award Machete with 150,000 dollars in cash is the latter executes the Texas senator running for re-election, Senator McLaughlin (Robert De Niro). When Machete is betrayed just prior to pulling the trigger, he sets himself on a mission of personal revenge which shall pit him against the likes of Booth, the Senator and an old enemy drug lord from Mexico, Torrez (Steven Seagal). On his side are special agent Sartana (Jessica Alba) and a Mexican born woman, Luz, (Michelle Rodriguez) who helps illegal immigrants get a fresh start in the United States, but of course just runs a taco stand as a cover. Oh right, Lindsay Lohan plays Booth’s drug addict daughter and Cheech Marin is a priest who wields shotguns in the name of justice.

The question on everyone’s mind heading into Machete was whether or not the film could live up to 3 years of hype and fanboy dreams after that now famous trailer that had grindhouse movie fans drooling in 2007. More importantly however was the question about keeping the story of Machete fresh and fun enough that he wouldn’t overstay his welcome. It’s one thing to drool over a 2 ½ minute trailer, but as we all know, it can be an entirely different story when the 105 minute feature length production doesn’t live up to expectations. For the most part, the answer to those two questions is yes. Robert Rodriguez’s career is filled with some of the most over the top action and horror movies you’ll see. Sin City, Planet Terror, the El Mariachi trilogy, he is a director who enjoys relishing in excess, surprising audiences and making them laugh with whatever insane deaths and erotic sequences he can come up with. That’s arguably why there are never been any unanimous opinion on his work and sensibilities as a writer and director. It’s hard to please everyone when you’re always going for what one hopes will comes across as outrageous as possible. I think the most significant criticism that one can attribute to a director the likes of Rodriguez is perhaps a lack of ambition. Sure, it takes times and a dedicated crew and actors to make movies like Machete, but there aren’t a whole lot of brains to the endeavour.



With this current outing, Rodriguez offers another platter of splatter which delivers the goods if you are looking for that sort of entertainment. Danny Trejo remains fully in character from start to finish, what with his cold, deadly stare and those bad ass kills he performs on the flick of a whim. Sometimes he doesn’t even need to do much to dispatch a foe, as is demonstrated in one of the movie’s funniest scenes in which Machete keeps avoiding an opponent’s kicks and punches while munching on a burrito. Other times his creativity will kick in, as in the scene when, while trying to escape thugs in a hospital, he creates a sort of whip with operating knives attached to the end. Machete whips that little sucker around like cowboy tosses his lasso around cattle. That brings me to something about Rodriguez’s style as a storyteller and director: he understands what his audience wants. The buckets of blood and gore that are dispersed long the streets and walls of Texas re fine and dandy, but there is inherent comedic value in the insanity that runs through the picture. Things never get truly gritty, most of what happens on screen has a decidedly campy value to it, so the viewer can simply sit back, relax and laugh their heads off has Machete blows people’s heads off. The film is nonsensical in its depiction of men, woman and violence, but in the world Rodriguez creates, that is something to be laughed at, and laugh we do. The cast is obviously enjoying themselves, and some of them are so perfectly cast it would be difficult to imagine anybody else in their roles. Michelle Rodriguez, who I’ve always felt was an underrated actress, knows how to deliver lines with the exact sort of earnestness that makes the scenes so much fun, while Jessica Alba, an actress whom I’m actually not very fond of, does seem to clue in on that this is all preposterous and manages to play along as well. Probably the one character most people will come away with the fondest memories of is Padre, played by Cheech Marin. The dialogue, the attitude, two double wielding shotguns, he is unquestionably the funniest and wildest creation in the movie.

There are a couple things that held the film back from being a completely religious experience, and both are intimately related. The first is the number of side characters and their respective storylines. Every gets some shining moments and little plot threads, some of which feel more deserved than others, and the more of them Rodriguez piles on the more I wondered why the movie needed so many people in it. Was this also a joke on how silly grindhouse films were? I don’t know, but the story did become a tad convoluted by the hour mark, which brings me to my second negative criticism: the titular character begins to feel like a supporting player himself at times, especially as the story develops. I’ll admit that attempting to genuinely develop Machete into something more three-dimensional could have easily fallen flat on its face, and maybe that’s why some many other characters earn more and more screen time the deeper we get into the plot, but I found it odd how Machete felt less and less important. He gets his fight with Steven Seagal at the end, which is all I could have asked for really, but I thought the focus of the story shied away from Danny Trejo a bit too much in the latter stages.



This is going to be a rather brief review. I won’t deny the fact that, while I wanted to write a little piece on Machete because I enjoyed it and would like to see it do better than its very meek opening weekend box office performance, I don’t have that much to say about it. It’s good fun, with a number of laughs and entertaining kills to keep one occupied for a little over an hour and a half, but it wasn’t as tight and focussed as I would have liked it to be. Something this trashy should have had a more simplistic story arc and avoid adding subplot after subplot. If you liked Grindhouse, I don’t see how in the world you won’t like Machete.

Review: The American

The American (2010, Anton Corbijn)
B+


Dutch director Anton Corbijn’s sophomore effort after his critical hit Control a few years back will more than likely end up going unnoticed. Released at the very tale end of the summer season, The American stars international superstar George Clooney but arrived with as little fan fair as possible. I would deem this to be rarity with regards to films starring the charismatic and talented American actor, but such was the case a couple days ago when I went with a friend from work to the local multiplex to see a movie for which the poster (which looks pretty swell if I may say so) had only been appearing around town for a couple weeks.

I think about 10 minutes into the film I had understood why I hadn’t seen a single trailer for the movie in front of any film I had seen this summer. Yes, The American is a thriller of sorts, with some chases, some tension, some mystery and some decent kills, but it is, on the whole, a very different beast from what one might expect when going to see a movie of the thriller genre. The story, which follows George Clooney’s character (whose name may be Jack or Edward. No joking, I'm really not sure) around a small but charming Italian village as he a) prepares an arms sale for a female assassin , b) flees from some Swedish heavies who are after him for a past job the viewer is given no information about and c) falls in love with a beautiful prostitute named Clara (Violante Placido), unfolds with a very deliberate pace. The film is in absolutely no rush to get to the end and does not feel the necessity to fill the audience in on enough details for us to know exactly what is going on from frame one. Jack (or Edward), who is employed by a mysterious elderly man for very particular tasks involving arms dealing (and I presume assassinations as well since his character seems to know how to handle himself) is a lonesome man who finds it a difficult to connect to other, yet several people he meets during his adventure seem inexorably attracted to him in many ways, such as the prostitute Clara and quiet but somewhat witty old priest who enjoys his company even though Edward (or Jack) rarely has much to say.

Therein lies one of the strengths of the movie, this notion of a man who, through his job and past experience, finds it both difficult and dangerous to get too close to people and therefore consistently remains at a certain emotional distance from those who want him to open up a little bit. He is shut off, probably because he both can’t and shouldn’t try to be amiable towards those he meets on the job. Without giving away too much, the opening scene exemplifies the ‘shouldn’t’ part. Corbijn utilizes almost everything at his disposal to enforce this prevailing sense of a man on his own. Naturally, the starting point is actor George Clooney, who gives a different performance from the Danny Ocean variety we see often enough. He is very cold, almost mechanical and robotic in his mannerisms and the few times where he tries to be witty, it comes off as a bit awkward and mean spirited, but intentionally so. When things between him and Clara grow more intimate and serious, there is always a lingering reluctance preventing him from wrapping his arms around this love that is standing at his door. It’s a calculated performance, one that pays dividends because of the mystery surrounding the character. The audience would also like him to open up, to reveal himself a little bit more, but that would go against his nature and put himself and those around him in grave danger. The more he sees Clara and the elderly priest however, the more his desire for another life strives for a few gasps of air. Henceforth an internal struggle that rarely, if ever, shows itself in George Clooney’s facial expressions. Whether he will be able to really behave more like a regular sociable person is another discussion, but the fact that he is beginning to realize that he should strive for something more in life than just his job does earn his character a degree of sympathy from the viewer. Yes, he’s kind of boring and cold, but he is coming around on the fact that maybe he could be someone else, and even though it is demonstrated very slowly, without flash or any on the nose scenes with obvious dialogue, it was enough for me to actually start hoping that he did make it out of this adventure alive.



The framing of several scenes as well as the location where the story takes place support the dominant theme of the film. The stunning village where Clooney is staying to prepare for the sale feels lonely and remote. Rarely is there more than a few people in the narrow or the wide streets. There are scenes with Clooney at cafés with him sitting sometimes outside or inside the establishment, and even though there are often other customers, the framing of these scenes often succeeds in putting an emphasis on the character’ s loneliness. It’s an instance in which the ‘framing device’ is effective in a literal sense and not merely as an idea or theme that structures the story. Speaking of framing and visuals, Corbin’s camera is exquisite here, to say the least. Even if one does find the narrative empty and too ponderous for their tastes, at least stay to withhold the beauty of Castel del Monte where the movie was shot. There are a number of breathtaking transition shots that do such a marvellous corner of Europe justice.

Director Corbijn will also find tension in the strangest scenes. Because we know so little about Clooney’s character but have witnessed his lighting quick brutality and effectiveness in disposing people in the opening scene, there was frequently an ominous mood whenever he and other people involved in the same business as him were together. The one that stood out for me is when he takes a stunning blonde woman to a remote location in the woods near Castel Del Monte to demonstrate the quality of his weapons. The stares and body language of the Clooney character is consistently ambiguous. He’s already proven that he can kill anybody depending on what needs to be done, the audience has seen it already. Corbijn takes that knowledge and constructs an odd little scene in which both characters are merely testing out a rifle on the surrounding vegetation, but I was always on high alert for any dark surprises that might be in store. The sense that at no time of day is the Jack/Edward character fully safe leaks superbly into almost every scene. There are a number of downright creepy moments, especially in those dark alleyways at night. Were I to offer a comparison, The American is very much the kind of film a director the likes of Jim Jarmusch would make. Come to think of it, he kind of did already. It was called The Limits of Control and was released during the summer last year (reviewed here). In no way am I attempting to denigrate Anton Corbijn’s work here by calling him copycat. I think any film that finds inspiration from Jarmusch’s work is on solid working ground, but both films, in many respects, are eerily similar.



I don’t know how successful The American will be. It is being released at that difficult early September slot when the movie going public is a bit tired after a hectic summer season and a month or so before the highbrow dramas start rolling out. I don’t think September has ever been a good month to release a film, not to mention that this movie has a decidedly non-mainstream feel to it. From the character interactions (Jack/Edward’s nationality is often the punch line to a lot of stereotypical comments made by supporting characters, but he himself feels so quiet and distanced that the comments just roll off his back most of the time. It’s very dry humour), to the storytelling decisions and especially the pacing, The American is very much its own creation and not a run of the mill thriller, despite George Clooney’s handsome mug gracing the film’s one-sheet poster.

Blogging around

Hello readers.

In the vast sea of movie blogs, it can be a hassle to find quality content. Taking a page out of the Mad Hatter's book of doing things (with his Everybody's Talkin' column), I thought I would direct my faithful followers to other worthwhile articles or columns I happen to stumble on. Mind you, I wouldn't want you all to read more stuff from the other blogs. I mean, these will just be friendly visits, right? I don't want to lose my readership now...I NEED YOU!


1- CS' countdown to the 2010 Toronto International Film Festival. Fellow blogger CS from the T-dot is currently sharing memories and thoughts on the 9 TIFF's he has attended so far in anticipation of this year's edition.

2-Relative newcomer to the movie blogging world is Suspend Your Disbelief, who has begun a Philip K. Dick blogathon. The first entry is an in-depth comparative review of Blade Runner and its source material, the book Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

3-Our friends over at The Reelists (or 'friend.' It seems to be only Corey Atad writing these days) have begun a marathon devoted to the great films of Powell and Pressburger. The first entry is The Life and Death of Colonel Blimb.

Enjoy!

Rambo marathon: First Blood

First Blood (1982, Ted Kotchef)
B+

Over the course of the past few decades, the name ‘Rambo’ has become synonymous with notions of action heroes who are all brawn and no brains. They don’t do much else other than take out their machine guns, machetes and slaughter armies of faceless enemies. Add to that actor Sylvester Stallone’s inability to escape the misguided perception that he’s not the brightest bulb in the light shop (that, admittedly, is far more the fault of those who hold that idea, not his) and what one is left with is more a caricature than anything with emotional depth and psychological weight. Entering First Blood for the first time, I told myself to remain completely open to whatever Ted Kotchef’s and Stallone’s film based on the David Morell novel had to offer.

The easiest thing I could say to start things off is that I was surprised. When the caricature and spoof becomes so prevalent, one looses focus on the original subject which spawned said caricatures. I had heard, vaguely, that First Blood was different, that it did little to earn the tag of ‘mindless 80s action film’ that many of us have been guilty have attributing to it, even without having seen it (which made me especially guilty). Indeed, First Blood does not one but many things I simply had not envisioned to be capable of. ‘Surprised’ however is not the most apt word I could use however. I think I was more satisfied and relieved than surprised. When my expectations are shattered for something of superior quality, both in terms of storytelling and intelligence, than I am a happy camper. First Blood opens with Stallone’s John J. Ramob walking along a road in direction of an old friend’s house. He and this friend were soldiers during the Vietnam War. Upon his arrival however, he learns that his friend has passed way, most likely the victim of all that ‘orange stuff’ they spread around in Nam. Devastated by the news, John Rambo heads into a small town, stunned by the revelation. His past as a Vietnam War hero becomes a major force in everything that is to follow over the course of the next few days. The local sheriff (Brian Dennehy) doesn’t like the looks of Rambo very much, but one the latter shows resistance to the former’s attempt at establishing hierarchical superiority, things get out control and fast. Very soon the local police force and the army have their hands full as Rambo has a mental breakdown and terrorizes the area, both in the mountains and in the town itself. Even the soldier’s former mentor and teacher, Trautman (Richard Crenna), is having trouble controlling one of the deadliest men alive.



To put things into perspective, the character of John J. Rambo, as portrayed in First Blood, is no hero. Hold on, I may have typed that with bit too much haste. He earned the congressional medal of honour for his services in the Vietnam War, thus making him something of a hero, but he is far from a hero in the traditional Hollywood movie sense. This is a man who, due to some horrific, nightmarish experiences back during the war (some of which briefly shown via split second flash backs whenever Rambo sees something that reminds him of the torture inflicted on him as a POW) is haunted by fears, both real and imagined and whose mental and emotional stability are but a shadow of what they used to be. As a soldier, he was conditioned to fight and kill on command, but back in the United States those services are much less in demand. Complicating matters further are the terrible reputations the Vietnam War and its veterans earned during and after the conflict. No job, no future, overbearing negative public perception, post-traumatic stress disorder, Rambo is much more a mess than he is a man. When the officers in the local police department start roughhousing him, he snaps and proceeds to act out all of his aggression towards pretty much anybody who dares oppose him. His mental state reverts back to what is was in the jungles of Vietnam. When Trautman finally reaches Rambo via radio communication and tries to bring back a sense of order and discipline to the young man, Rambo coldly explains that it was the police force who drew first blood, not him. If they want to do evil to him, than he’ll fight back without the slightest hesitation. This is not a story about a psycho killer rampaging around town giving Michael Myers a bad name. It is a story about a man who, through his conditioning, by taking part in the wrong war at the wrong time, through societal circumstances that he cannot control and which are constantly throwing him to the curb, and through depression has completely lost his way in life. In essence, there are no heroes in the film at all. Rambo is a dishevelled soul and the local sheriff wants nothing more than to kill him. For the longest stretch during the movie the one character who elicits the most sympathy is Trautman, who wants to reign Rambo in.



Much of First Blood’s strength rests with these odd circumstances and characters. The movie depicts how we are all products of whatever society and situations we either grew up or were conditioned in. When the variables are beyond our control and continuously beat down on us, our reactions can be frightful and outright dangerous. Take that idea and stick in the context of a young, frustrated Vietnam war veteran suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and the results can be repulsive. The movie takes a bold chance in placing the story on American soil as well. It isn’t as if Rambo was going crazy in the jungles of Vietnam (although his issues may have begun just like that). He is a war hero terrorizing his own country when said country has turned its back on him in the vicious way. Regardless of where one’s politics lie, there is something undeniably compelling about such a plot. As a Canadian, I am a bit of an outsider looking in on matters involving the Vietnam War, although Canada’s current involvement in the country of Afghanistan is strikingly similar, down to the reality and fewer and fewer Canadians support the country’s military presence in Afghanistan. Rambo isn’t a ‘good’ character at all, but he is endlessly fascinating and, while the film takes the intensity of his actions up some notches too many in the latter stages of the film, there is a ring of painful truth to a lot what Rambo is experiencing. Men can and do return from war as different, and sometimes, in the saddest cases, the changes to their behaviours are considerable downgrades in mental and emotional stability. I think the film goes a little bit overboard in the final scenes when Rambo attacks the town at large, blowing up gas stations, corner stores, gun shops, etc. I can see how those scenes represent, metaphorically, the full extent of Rambo frustrations, but it felt a bit too stretched compared to what transpired earlier, not to mention that the viewer is led to believe that after all the havoc Rambo has wreaked, only one person perished. I didn’t need Rambo to go on an intentional killing spree, and he does stop short of killing people when he stands face to face with them, but just the fact that he’s blowing the town to high heaven must have meant that he knew he was probably going to vaporize some innocents. Is he so good that he knows how to blow the shite out of a town and not kill a soul?

Regardless, those scenes were not enough to sour my viewing experience. In fact, the final few minutes when Rambo pours out his feelings and frustrations through words rather than guns and knives made for a very solid conclusion. I sincerely mean it when I say that people should seek out First Blood. If any of you reading this review and who have not seen the film believe it be an 80s version of The Expendables, go watch it now. It is balances grit and violence with sophistication and intelligence in some bold ways that command respect.

Find out how Bill unleashed his post-traumatic stress over at Bill's Movie Emporium.

Rambo Marathon!

'Live for nothing, die for something.'

Oh, aren't those words to live by, dear readers? There is only one man capable of uttering such a line with the ferocity, seriousness and intensity of an 80s action hero living in the 00s, and that man goes by the name of John Rambo.

It's about time Bill (from Bill's Movie Emporium) and I get together and bash heads in another joint marathon slugfest. This time however there shall be no graceful lightsaber duels. Nay, it's time to wear our size small t-shirts, show off our huge muscles, and bring out some massive machine guns (and some bow and arrows while we're at it). The Rambo marathon begins this Sunday, September 5th!

Review: I Live in Fear

I Live in Fear (1955, Akira Kuroswa)

B

Many of Akira Kurosawa’s films which saw the light of day in the late 1940s until the mid 1950s dealt with the cultural, economic and social challenges facing Japan in the aftermath of WWII. In I Live in Fear, Kurosawa investigates an issue that was on the minds of many since their country’s crushing defeat only years earlier: the reality of the nuclear age. The proof, sadly, was in the pudding. Atomic bombs existed and could wreak unspeakable havoc on whatever areas they were targeted towards. Entire cities could be laid to waste, turned into nothing more but dust and rubble without the single hint of any life forms remaining. To make matters worse, the longevity of atomic energy and its many ill effects on the human body could be felt for years following the initial attack. These dark and evil thoughts are what plague Kiichi Nakajima (Toshirô Mifune, wearing plenty of makeup and prosthetic material), an elderly factory owner, who can’t help but fear about the possibility of a nuclear attack that would instantly wipe out himself and his family. It would be quite apt in fact to conclude that Kiichi is obsessed with this notion, almost crazed by the fearful potential of the bomb’s destructiveness.

Kiichi, who has owned the factory for several years already and whose sons have also entered the family business, is so appalled by what might happen were there to be a nuclear attack that he is perfectly willing to uproot his extensive family from Japan to Brazil which, as far as he understands, is one of the most secure locations on the globe in regards to protection from atomic energy carried over from ocean winds. It goes without saying that his family, in particular the grownup sons and daughter who work at the factory, do not see eye to eye with their increasingly paranoid father and do not wish to relocate and begin the entire lives anew in a foreign country. They have begun to take some dramatic measures in insuring that Kiichi does not waste the family’s funds on such a preposterous project why trying to have the elderly man declared incapable of making such an important decision. Senile, to a degree, if you will. Kiichi is infuriated by his own family’s attempts at shunning his honest efforts in protecting the ones he loves at all costs. Their relationship was never grand and beautiful to begin with, but this episode in their lives will test whatever connection they may have left.



I, like many people, tend to agree that Kurosawa’s more interesting and hence more memorable efforts are those that followed the exploits, whether dramatic or comedic, of samurai. There is some true zeal to many of those pictures that captivate the viewer and send them off to another time and another place that sometimes do not want to even leave once the films are over. His projects that attempt at social commentary in post-WWII Japan, in my humble opinion, do not tend to possess the same level of exquisite craftsmanship. They are obviously smaller pictures with perhaps simpler plots even and dealing with issues that are more topical (one could even go so far as to say that these topicality of these films make them ‘dated’). Still, there are always some fascinating character explorations in them. What I applaud Kurosawa for in particular his willingness to give all sorts of characters screen time, be they young up and coming cops, a young and reckless gang member, or fearful old folk. He is a writer and director who was interested in all sorts of people and what made them tick during one of Japan’s most important periods of the twentieth century, one during which the country was at its weakest most point in centuries. The characters we see in films such as Stray Dog, Drunken Angel and I Live in Fear are representations of those who experienced a determinant transitional phase in modern Japanese history, and therefore these films hold a particular value for not only for cinema buffs but also for those seeking for answers in the past. The character of Kiichi, as played by the famous Kurosawa collaborator Tohirô Mifune, earns a special place in the director’s long list of memorable creations. The man is old, living the last few years of a life filled with hard work and strict parenting. He has seen his country suffer a blow at war so unforgettable and catastrophic that there fact that instrument which delivered the blow exists is sufficient for his mind to fear for the worst. Whether any country, the United States or otherwise, would ever think of utilizing the A-bomb once again isn’t even part of the equation for Kiichi. The weapon’s potential was there for all to see not so long ago, and that is more than reason enough for the business man to pack up his belongings, abandon his home and native land and settle in a corner of the globe that he believes, rightly or wrongly, will offer more adequate shelter from any future nuclear attacks.



There are numerous qualities that make the character interesting, but the two that stand out are the setting that drives the characters fear and the stark opposition he is facing from his family. By setting, I am referring to period in Japanese history and the weapon Kiichi fears so much, elements we have already discussed briefly. The other aspect about the character is how noble intentions differ from what the rest of his family believes to be best for them. One simply cannot deny that the man’s intentions are honourable and good natured. Essentially, he doesn’t want to see his loved ones annihilated by the A-bomb. In principle, there is nothing wrong with that. But his paranoia about a potential nuclear attack appears to be clouding his judgement and behaviour, significantly so at that. The family has had their factory for many years. They are well established and reasonably prosper. The war has long been over and Japan is in a (forced) re-structuring phase. Why in heaven’s name would anyone attack them again, least of all with another nuclear bomb? What the films delivers therefore is a conflict of two opposing forces, both of which have interesting points of view. Kiichi, however honourable his intentions, does come across as the one with the opinion one might find more difficult to support. At first he comes across as ruthlessly dogmatic in his vision of things to come and, while he still comes across as pretty dogmatic by the end, we have seen throughout the movie that he genuinely fears for the safety of his sons and daughters, both the legitimate and illegitimate ones. It is a sad situation in which the one who wants nothing more than to do well is the kooky. A claim can be made about the irrationality guiding the man’s train of thought, but how much so? Back then, was it really so implausible that anyone else might try to use the A-bomb? What about tests which incurred the risk of spreading atomic energy procedures were to go awry? The rest of the family might be saner, but the lengths to which many of them are willing to go in order to muzzle the old patriarch are disheartening. They might be evaluating Japan’s chances of survival more aptly, but their behaviour towards Kiichi is far from amiable.


I Live in Fear is small, intimate movie, but one that concentrates on what were huge issues at the time in Japan. The importance of family, its dynamics, what connects members together and the psychological aftermath of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki attacks one takes lightly. Either side of the conflict in I Live in Fear deserves the time to be heard, but through everyone’s behaviour and irrational decisions, nobody will earn the viewer’s utmost respect. Kurasawa understood the duality and complexity that will forever live inside of Man. This is another entry in the long standing tradition of Kurosawa films in which characters are never entirely good nor entirely bad. There is always a way for honourable intentions to go sour, it’s just up to each and every one of us to discover that murky delimitation.

Marathon news

There always comes time to face reality. This is the final weekend of August, meaning that the summer is, alas, coming to an end. Those super charged blockbusters that graced the silver screens for the past 3 1/2 months are leaving the multiplexes for what we hope will be some captivating dramas soon to be released this fall and winter. Along with the final weekend of August comes the final entry in the 'Homemade Summer Movie Marathon' (Memento, reviews here). I hope you enjoyed the marathon. It seemed to attract a decent amount of comments from readers and fellow bloggers, all of which I very much appreciated.

Now with the fall just around the corner, it's time to start thinking about what's coming next. Not long ago there was a poll question asking readers to choose between the continuation of the Satyajit Ray marathon or a new Apichatpong Weerasethakul marathon. Well, guess what: the poll ended in a draw! We at Between the Seats will have to think a little bit about how to approach this unique situation, although I am certain a suitable compromise will be reached.

The Rambo marathon with Bill from Bill's Movie Emporium should be up and running in the coming weeks (yeah, I do remember posting earlier this summer that that marathon would start in late July, but, you know, stuff happens). In the meantime, I'll be posting a few random reviews and articles to keep the activity here lively, but fear not, the marathons will return in full very soon.

As always, thanks for visiting.

Homemade summer movie marathon: Memento

Memento (2000, Christopher Nolan)
A


*Note: Memento is replacing A Scanner Darkly as the final film in the 'Homemade Summer Movie Marathon.' I figured that with a hugely successful Christopher Nolan film released this summer, it would be more interesting to look some of the director's previous work. On with the review.

In recent years writer director Christopher Nolan has been busy impressing mainstream audiences with fantastical tent-pole release the likes of Batman Begins, The Dark Knight and Inception, but it was not so long ago that the Englishman made a name for himself in the Hollywood scene with smaller, more intimate and independent minded projects. The first to truly put him on the proverbial map was Memento, a murder mystery tale that took audiences on for a ride inside the mind of a man desperately searching for his wife’s killer but who has suffered from a particular form of amnesia which deprives him of the ability to form any new memories.

The film opens with Leonard (Guy Pierce) starring intently at the photograph of a man he has just shot in the head. We notice that with every wave of the picture, the image morphs from crystal clear to paler shades and eventually to white. Of course, everyone knows that Polaroid pictures development in the opposite manner, that is, from a pure shade of white to the moment in time that was capture on camera. It quickly becomes evident that the scene is unfolding in reverse order. This is but a small taste of things to come as director Nolan, who was inspired by a short story written by his brother, structures the entire narrative in reverse chronological order. Every scene which reveals a little more of what happen earlier is intercut with black and white sequences of Leonard discussing with someone over the phone in a motel room about memory and the story of a man, Sammy Jenkis (Steven Tobolowsky) who suffered from the same case of amnesia as himself. Along the way the film presents two vastly different characters, Teddy (Joe Pantoliano) and a bar made named Nathalie (Carrie-Anne Moss) who at first seems to want to assist Leonard in his quest for vengeance, but appearances can always be so deceiving...and Leonard is such an easy target to take of advantage of, what with his ‘condition’ as he calls it.

Memento represents a lot of what films should be, and especially film noir. The mood, plot, cinematography and character interactions all find their inspiration in classic film noir. There is the beaten up protagonist who will do whatever it takes to quench his thirst for personal justice, the attractive woman who displays, on the surface at least, a desire to help him but who may be guided by her own selfish motives, a story which is infested with sadness and despair, and some exquisitely moody lighting choices. Like in the great film noir’s, there is no genuine hero to the piece. Someone has been wronged and they are hunting down the perpetrators, nothing more. Guy Pierce’s strength is in how he succeeds in giving his character a sense of humanity. For much of the movie he does earn the viewer’s sympathy, whether through his recollections of his deceased wife (as trustworthy as they can be), the gutsiness with which he ventures into some seedy characters of the city, and the even the obsession that drives him, to the point that he has ‘facts of the case’ tattooed all over his body just so that he can remember who is he looking for and how. Leonard’s is a quest for blood, but through the actor’s performance his journey elicits a form of sympathy from the viewer.



The real coup de grace of Memento is in how Nolan weaves his plot. Rather than follow the usual path of the central character discovering tips and clues to the puzzle as the story evolves, the director takes an unorthodox decision in revealing each scene of Leonard investigating in the opposite order in which they happen. The film thusly begins with him looking over a man he has just shot in the head, the next scene explains how the murder came to be, the scene after that is what occurred before Leonard decided he had to kill his victim, so on and so forth. What might come across as ‘gimmicky’ is in actuality one of the cleverest and effective efforts by a film in having the viewer really step into the shoes of a protagonist. Movies with characters who have amnesia have been done many times already, as have movies for which the story is told in non linear fashion, but the fusion of the two in Memento make a dangerously delicious cocktail. With everything told in the reverse order, it is understood that Christopher Nolan is deliberately withholding information from the audience, not in the traditional sense of a murder mystery in which clues must be discovered and put together one by one. No, whatever events which have led up to a given scene one is watching have already occurred within the time frame of the movie. Leonard has already lived through whatever led him his heinous murder in the opening scene within the time frame of Memento’s plot. Director Nolan simply isn’t letting us see what those previous events were until later (or earlier, kind of). The reason this works so well has everything to do with poor Leonard ‘condition.’ If he cannot create new memories, and thus cannot recollect what has occurred only minutes earlier, than whatever did happen is no longer information in his memory bank. By that extension, there is no pivotal reason why the audience should be privy to that same information either. If we are to follow Leonard around and understand what he is going through, the direction taken by the filmmakers for Memento is arguably the best one possible. By the time the viewer discovers every new reveal, twist and turn, we my hope that things could have turned out differently, but that is not a possibility because has already forgotten them, and therefore for us, the viewers, to be more knowledgeable than Leonard would have defeated the purpose of the experience of following this chap around town. His mind is in such poor shape that with every ‘present’ situation, the present has already become too late because we know he will forget some critical information. He may be taking down notes on pictures and have some tattooed reminders on his skin, but he is still prone to being taken advantage of.



This brings upon a mood of fatalism to the picture, but one that fits in perfectly with the story. Memento is not a pleasant picture to experience, but nor should it be. It is concerned with a character who is doomed to repeating the same mistakes over and over again. In fact, when one character attempts to reason with him with divulging critical information about his past, Leonard shuns him because it doesn’t correspond to what he himself remembers. People and events of his past are garbled together which may have corrupted Leonard’s actions and mission with a toxicity that one couldn’t have predicted in the earlier stages of the movie. Does he even believe he is a good person? Has he ever been a good person? Were he to have the full capacities of his memories, would he behave in a more honourable manner? Snippets from his past hint that this may not be the case, but then again, he doesn’t seem to remember things very well, so... All this make Leonard a fascinating character to evaluate and study. Top it off with a compelling performance from actor Guy Pierce and you have yourself a film for which it is difficult to take one’s eyes away from. It is impossible to write an in-depth and full analysis of Memento all the while withholding some of the more important revelations, but suffice to say that Nolan delivers the good in spades. I could go on about the few things that didn’t not quite work for me (such as Leonard’s retelling of the Sammy Jenkis story, which goes on for a little too long in my opinion and doesn’t earn the payoff I believe the film wants it to have), but as film noir pot boiler, I can’t recommend the film highly enough.