Hello


I basically wanted to create a thread in which I could keep a track of the films I have and am going to watch during the May-August period, instead of spreading the mini-reviews across the various individual threads (I also suspect some of the films don't have threads dedicated to them, but that's beside the point).

Anywho, the list thus far:


This is Spinal Tap A
Vertigo A+
Brokeback Mountain A-
Rope A
The New World A-
Porco Rosso B-

This is Spinal Tap


What an astonishingly brilliant film this is!


The stroke of genius in the film is two offer us two films in one, specifically, the film as it plays itself out from our viewpoint, and the way it would from the viewpoint of the band. To the band, everything they do is serious; to us, everything is grounds for ridicule. The great disparity between our viewpoint and theirs is the reason why this film is so funny.

Consider, for example, the entire episode with Stonehenge. Before the mini-structure appears on the stage, we are already told and shown how small it is. The band, however, has not seen it before (and that tells us that the manager has not informed them), and their reaction to it once it appears on the stage, when they realize how small it is, is incredibly funny, because at that moment, they and us are on the same level of comprehension, and this in turn makes us (unconciously) aware of how completely in the dark they were beforehand, and just how serious this is to them. (I consider this scene to be one of the funniest I have ever seen!). Similarly, we know that David's girlfriend is a parody of Yoko Ono, and we know where this will lead, in contrast to the characters themselves, to whom this knowledge is not granted (although, considering that the Beatles are referenced, one wonders whether it's their ignorance that makes them be in the dark about the repeat). Thus, we can lay back and enjoy the ridiculousness of it all as it unfolds before us.

Also, just on the album being black, and the satire in general: the film is in large part brilliant because it is so close to the truth; sometimes, so close as to seem wholly authentic. That is because reality has given us bands as bad and far worse than Spinal Tap, whose songs are actually not among the worst I have heard (far from it). In fact, their music is given a sufficient element of authenticity for it to pass as 'real rock'n'roll', and it is only bogged down by occasional (and no doubt intentional) lyrics that deflate it entirely (e.g., the 'cat' line in the Stonehenge song). Also, not only was the White Album an instance of a simply album cover; the Backstreet Boys, you might remember, came out with an album titled "Black and Blue", no doubt in part echoing the Beatles. Well, they might as well have been echoing Spinal Tap. And I daresay that the music contained within the Blackalbum trumps that of the Backstreet Boys'.

Some of the dialogue is absolutely brilliant, but I hardly need to tell you that. But, just for the heck of it:



If they are so unknown, then it completely devalues what the band is trying to do in adopting this as their theme. If no one knew what the Druids were doing, what is the logic behind picking them as your theme? Well, there is no logic. So, right from the beginning, the band essentially undermines their whole effort, by telling us that absolutely nothing consequential can be derived from the show's theme. You could say they are trying to be mysterious, but the only mystery is courtesy them picking a the Druids as a theme.



The line is brilliant for several reasons, but one thing that's going on here, I think, is that David's addition of "And Why not?" shows him anticipating a response from Marty as to his epitaph. I mean something like this:

"What epitaph would you choose"
"Here lies David St. Hubbins, beloved etc etc"
"Why this epitaph?"
"And why not?"

David is of course promptly asked, and replies by saying that he though of it on the spot, having already exhausted his reply as part of the answer. Heh.





At the same time as the reviews tells us of their pretentious album, its style and language tells us that reviewers too can be and often are pretentious and as bad as the art they critique. This is satire at its most effective.

There's so much more to talk about, and the film can be analyzed minute by minute ,but I don't have the time. It's just brilliant.


A strong A. Bravo to the filmmakers!

VERTIGO

Without question, one of the greatest films ever made. I don't want to comment too much on it because I think much of what underlies the film must be explored by the viewer, and only in exploring it can the viewer really appreciate the profundity of it. But I have to say that, had Hitchcock never made another film but this, it would still merit his ranking among the great artists cinema has produced.

A+


This is the first A+ I have given in such a long time. I was thinking of giving Rear Window an A+ too. I think the grades themselves are ridiculous, but whatever the case, the are two of the best films ever made, so grades don't matter that much here.

Edit: Just to add, about the whole issue of identity: the female figure is presented through several representations, corresponding to various identities.

Let me sketch it out:

The man's wife, who is killed
The woman who takes on the role of the man's wife
The woman who takes on the role of her dead grandmother
The woman who takes on the role of the woman, who is thought to have died


In other words, the woman's identity, from the moment of the encounter with Stewart's character following her supposed death until almost the very end, builds her identity on top of a character twice dead: she has died in the form of the wife's grandmother, and she died in the form of the wife. With her death, all three women die, and the several identities they have costructed die with them as well.

No one wants to hear from you since you lied to us all about May 1st.

Brokeback Mountain



Throughout the film, I felt that there was something which was keeping it from being a masterpiece. It's certainly not the look or direction of the film, which are great. The film is one of the most gorgeous-looking I have ever seen; the beauty of the Teutons in Wyoming really comes through. I think the problem is that the film, although it seems sparse, tries to do too much by covering twenty years in the lives of the two men in a chronological fashion.

I think the film would have been better if it had either concentrated on the Brokeback Mountain episodes, cutting the rest, or, and I think this would be better, if they started with the end and had the beginning of the film as a kind of flashback, a device which has been successfully done before.

By expanding the story, we become acquainted with characters whose relationships are at least as interesting, and often more interesting, than the central one. For example, I would love to have seen more of Ennis' daughter, who is given just enough time to inform us that she has her own thoughts and feelings. Similarly, Alma is such a powerful presence that her relationship with Ennis completely trumps that of Ennis' with Jack's. What does it feel like for a girl? We get a sense of it, but it's sadly just a sidestory.

The worst consequence of this expansion, however, is that it takes away so much sympathy from the two characters and allocates it to the women. I didn't really feel anything but pity for the two men; I felt pity and compassion for the women. When Anna Faris' character is introduced, it's like a cup of water during a long draught. Then, we are instantly shown her husband soliciting Jack. So this sprightly, lively character is being betrayed for...what? I'm absolutely not convinced that the trade-off is a good one at all.

Of course, I understand that it's about the two men being placed in an impossible position, etc. What I'm saying is that this film does not do as good a job at getting that across as it could have. It's the best one yet, because it's more or less the only one yet. It's thus more difficult to say how it will fare in comparison with future releases as opposed to a 'straight romance', but it's possible, in the name of universal love, to compare it with other films about lovers placed in difficult positions. There, the most effective films are the ones which are firmly fixated on the central love affair, because it's absolutely necessary to make sure that the audience feels for them more than it does for those around them. That is necessitated by the fact, often enough, that the relationship is one which society frowns upon. The films are thus going up against incredible social pressures. In this case, I think that is extremely true. And yet, in this very film, we have too many relationships compromising the central one.

Having said that, there is too much that is done well in this film for it to be ranked below the A-level. In addition to the direction and superb cinematography, the acting is fantastic. The editing is a bit irritating, and the pacing is off in some parts (which is necessary in order to evoke the idea of boredom and mundanity), but when the film gets it right, it's dead on. The ending is very well-crafted, and the last two sequences are masterpieces in their own right. The scene with Ennis and Jack's parents is utterly devastating. The mother's eye do more to make this film tragic than any other thing in this film. What a story they tell! What pain they give an expression to! In contrast, the scene with Ennis and his daughter is bittersweet. Sweet, because there are two successful love relationships we witness (between the daughter and her soon-to-be husband, and between Ennis and his daughter). And it's bitter, because a third love relationship, between Ennis and Jack, was one which never could have brought either of the lovers the kind of happiness that the daughter excudes when she gives us that wonderful smile that acknowledges her happiness. The shirt and the picture tell us that once, it did bring them happiness. And Ennis' pain tells us that it was emphemeral. The last shot with the window tells us something else: Ennis is inside looking out. Ennis has always been inside looking out. Jack was on the threshold, desiring to get out. That difference in perspective is the central difference between the two men, and one of the main reasons behind the tragedy in the film.


A-

ROPE


There are three crucial figures who are mentioned in the film who are, I believe, crucial to understanding the film. We hear of Freud, then of Nietzsche (misrepresented via the Nazis; Nietzsche wasn't vindicated before at least the 1950s), and, by way of reference to Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky. Those three correspond to the three ways in which the film can be understood.


First, and most obviously, the reference to Nietzsche and the idea of a race of supermen is presented to us as the theoretical backbone of Brandon's and (perhaps) Phillip's actions: there are some people who are beyond the normal bounds of good and evil, and thus can create their own morality. This is obviously a crucial element of Nazism, and of course the film, made in 1948, would force the connection. As expected, the theory is soundly shot down at the end, by Rupert, in a speech that seems too forced by now but is always refreshing to hear (and would have been, I'm sure, deeply appreciated by an audience that just three years earlier had seen pictures of the Holocaust for the very first time). I think this point is so obvious that the film speaks for itself on this count. (Could the name of the victim, DAVID, be another reference to the Holocaust? I think so; the wounds of WW2 were too fresh in 1948 for at least some not have noticed).

Secondly, regarding Dostoevksy, although Crime and Punishment is about the exact same thing (the film, and the play it is based on, cannot but have been deeply inspired by the novel), I think we can use it to approach the film from a different perspective, not ideologically, but psychologically. Most of Crime and Punishment deals with the punishment of Raskolnikov, and that punishment is mainly psychological. Thus with Crime and Punishment, and so too with Rope. We see two representations of the response to muder. In Brandon, we see someone who is able to cope with it. In Phillip, we see someone who breaks down under the pressure. Even the reference to the chicken is a throwback to Crime and Punishment; following the murder, Raskolnikov dreams of a horse he saw as a youth that was being brutally beaten. Sensitivity to the past event indicates sensitive to the current situation. When Brandon begins to exert control over Phillip, and finally expresses this by an act of violence (by slapping Phillip), it shows the self-consuming effects of murder. When Rupert tells them that they will die, it shows just how far this goes: they too will be killed, just as they killed David.


Lastly, regarding Freud, there is obviously a sexual undercurrent prevalent throughout the film, and it is obvious, I think, that Hitchcock hints (vaguely) at a homosexual relationship between the two murderers as a means of further emphasizing something that they have committed that is socially not right. At one point, Brandon says something along the lines of the people not knowing what they (Brandon and Phillip) have been doing. We think of the murder first, of course. We also think broadly of an act they have engaged in that must be kept hidden because it is immoral and wrong. This last point is perhaps more obvious to us now than it is to the first audiences (though plenty of people would have gotten it with ease). I don't think it's an accidental by product of Hitchcock's masterful creation of suspense and mystery, though.

Added note: another sexual relationship exists between David, his girlfriend, and her former boyfriend. There might be a third: why did Brandon invite Rupert? He says at one point that Rupert is one of them (Brandon and Phillip). The fact that he proves not to be is what destroys the two men. From a sexual perspective, are we to read this as Brandon's attraction to Rupert being thwarted? I'm not exactly sure Hitchcock would want to have this overemphasized, but I have little doubt that the generally sexual undercurrent might extend to their relationship (or lack thereof) as well.


This is to my mind clearly an outstanding film, and yet another confirmation of Hitchcock's status as one of the greatest artists in cinema.


A


P.S.: Notice Hitchcock's adherence to the three unities (of time, space, and action). The neoclassical dramatists and critics would have lauded him for it. Racine would have been appreciative

Too bad the blogs aren't live yet, this would be perfect for that. I await your take on A Very Long Engagement some day.

The New World



What an absolutely riveting and fascinating film! Perpetually interesting, and constantly provocative. Stimulating to the utmost, and never less than mesmerizing.


The film begins with the sounds of nature, and ends with nature's sounds taking over from the orchestral piece that had just been playing before. In between, we witness the contact and conflict between the people to whom nature's sounds are the music, and to those to whom the classical pieces fit that description. We are immediately, at the beginning, made aware of the impending contact. The girl that is to be the central character in the film speaks, addressing Mother, and asking her for strength in telling the story of a man. To those who have read the great Western epics, this is an immediate signal: these invocations were an epic convention beginning with Homer, extending to Virgil, right down to Dante, Spenser, and Milton. The poet's voice calls on the spirit of poetry for inspiration and guidance.

Is this a poem? It's not a film in a conventional sense. The association between the epic genre and this film goes beyond just the invocation. The film doesn't follow a strictly chronological timeline. We constantly get flashbacks to previous episodes, often rendered necessary as means of escape from the current, unbearable situation. Moreover, I would argue that we enter the story midway through. It will lead this young girl to England, but before the film's beginning, there was an entire life that she spent at home.

I think the decision to start when the explorers arrive is not only because of time or story constraints (Kubrick, I think, is the only director that I've come across who is as patient as Malick). The director's view is, largely, that of the explorers. The film offers us thus their point of view, something which is most evident in the speakovers, wherein the various characters express their thoughts, which they otherwise could never utter (or articulate). In addition, however, we also get the young girl's voice too, and through her, that of the Mother. Perhaps we also get that of her people.


Before I get to the specific reasons as to why there is no account of the pre-contact life, I think it's important to talk about the central relationship in the film. Smith is an outcast in an from his society. That much is clear. He does not fit into the confines of his culture, and for his mutinous behaviour, is physically confined. It is hardly surprising that he should be the one extending himself over to the natives. The young girl, on the other hand, seems in tune with her own culture and people. So why is she the one who replies? I think it's because of her connection with Mother. Mother, of course, is Nature, both in the physical and spiritual sense, and including both the general and the human sense. It is that universal quality which connects us to the outside world, to our inner self, and to our fellow human beings. In other words, it's God. The young girl, being connected to that source, thus becomes a being fit to connect with the foreign party. She understands this, and so does Smith. She is faithful to it, Smith betrays this belief, and her with it. This relationship between them, by the way, is called "love" (in the Romantic, conventional sense) in the film. It is very unfortunate that Malick (who, at any rate, is at least as much of a poet as he is a filmmaker) chose to use that term, and to interpret the relationship between them thus, because at the same time, he gives us access to something far more profound and universal, and thus, far more powerful and touching. Malick's unwillingness to abandon the conventional ideas of love for the sake of concentrating on the more universal "love" (love in the sense that Dante uses it, that is, Love as God) is the major reason why this film, as good as it is, is not a masterpiece.

Having said that, let me for a moment defend Malick. I think what he is trying to do is to show, in Smith, the acknowledged allure of the 'New World', and the fact that this 'New World' was destroyed by the explorers and colonizers. It's consistently emphasized throughout the film, and forms one of the central arguments therein (the contrast between the natives and the starving Englishmen and boys is stark, disturbing, and obvious).

Much more pronounced is the young girl's transformation. It must be emphasized that she does not have a name until she is baptized. We have come to call her Pocahontas, but that is our designation, our label, not hers, and not her peoples'. When she is named Rebecca, it forms, I would argue, the culminating act in the murder of the young girl that effectively began the moment that contact was established. In a way, it is almost inevitable; the moment that you come into contact with the other party, life will never be the same. What is so extraordinary is what an extreme form the young girl's transformation takes. I don't mean just in terms of clothing, language, and other external features. More important is the (apparent) death of her spirit. Did you notice how little she smiles? The most fascinating moment at the beginning of the film was was when the colonizers met with the natives in the field, both eyeing each other curiously and threateningly, until the camera fixed on this wonderful girl who was playing with her friend, and who gave us this wonderful smile! Psychologists have in recent decades found smiles to be one of the features of all cultures of the world that are universally understood by all human beings. When you smile, wherever it is you are, or whenever, it tells other human beings that you mean well, that you are happy. When mothers smile, babies are known to detect that soothing gesture. And what if this feature disappears? To me, what it signalled was that the young girl, now young woman, had lost her connection with Mother.


She finds it in the end, in a scene that is rather abrupt for a film that knows how to take its time. I think that her meaning is clear enough: her son is the manifestation of the universal link between all human beings. This is not only true on a spiritual or idealistic level, but is rooted in biological fact: what connects all human beings is that they are one species, and that is only true so long as they can copulate and produce offspring. Once that connection is confirmed, the young woman (whose 'real' self remains unnamed in the film) can return to her home. But that, alas, is not possible. The moment that contact was established, her 'home' was destroyed. So, what other solution is there? Death, of course. And that's precisely what happens.


The ending, from this perspective, seems quite conclusive. But I find there to be an undercurrent which is quite disturbing. To get back to the whole issue of the pre-contact period, so why is it that it is not portrayed? The reason, I think, is simple and has been hinted at above: this film, like the actors in it, and like the audience watching it, are the product of the post-contact period. We are all part of that age which is founded in large part on the colonization of the Americas. And that being so, we are all denied access to what had existed before then. Why so? Because once the different civilizations met each other, inevitably, they collapsed into a new, and comprehensive entity, which had Europe, certainly, as the standard, but which nonetheless liberally took whatever it needed from the native cultures. Maize and tobacco are just two of the more famous examples. The entire American double-continent is an even better one.

Knowing this, I found myself profoundly saddened by the film. What it gives us, or tries to give us, is a glimpse into a world that does not exist anymore. Perhaps it never existed at all. But the idea of it does. And to think of that idea as something that is not realized, and perhaps never was realized, is profoundly saddening. Let me put it this way: none of us will ever know what it felt like to be like that young girl and to correspond directly with Mother. None of us will be able to go back to that world the way that she does at the end when the dances in the garden in England (even if that return is momentary).

If we can never access this world, how is it that the film was made at all? I think the answer is stated in the film, but in a contradictory fashion. John Smith states, twice, that what he felt when he was with the young girl was reality, and everything else a dream, an illusion. The opposite is true: what he felt was a dream. The rest, and that is everything, is reality. This is not meant to be a criticism. On the contrary, the existence of this dream is very consoling. That is because the idea of the New World was and is a wonderful dream. The reality was and is a nightmare. This is the story of one woman who is treated rather well by the Europeans. There are 22 million dead people whose stories did not turn out so well. They tell the real story. Malick gives us the dream.


A-



Just 2 notes:

-An A- instead of an A because, although I appreciate everything that Malick does, and was spellbound by the film, in addition to the above-stated point about the love relationship, there are some technical issues as well as specifics in the story which I found to be below the usual standard of the film. Some of the dialogue, to give an example, is not as good as the film demands it to be.

-On Kilcher's performance, I feel the need to state that, to my mind, it is equaled only by Whoopi Goldberg's in The Color Purple as the finest debut in cinema. I felt tremendous sympathy and admiration for this wonderful and wonder-filled character, and I know that her dignity and strength had to have come from this young actress who meets the challenge with fierce and awe-inspiring determination.

Woohoo! I just rewatched it tonight, and I still like it.

Stop watching good flims.

Ya! It really is good. I think that, as an experience, it was very moving and...sad. I felt so much sympathy for this little girl. I mean, to be displaced like that, to be constantly confronted with these strange new things, to have your heart broken, it's devastating. And more so given that she is capable of immense joy.







I have a list of what I think will be great films, but I'll try to add some crap just for the heck of it.

The New World was AMAZING!!!

Too bad you didn't experience it in the theatre

Porco Rosso


There's honestly not much to be said about this film. There are three major problems I have with it:

1) The story is very weak. Basically, a pig pilot competes against an American pilot. It's somewhere in the 1930s, the depression is raging, fascism is on the rise, but we barely get mention of all that stuff. Meanwhile, we're introduced into this really weird world of likeable rogues, beautiful girls (whose beauty is constantly brought up by the male characters), and well, a pilot pig. It would be nice if it wouldn't be so naive.

2) Miyazaki does not do 'bad' characters. There are no bad guys in his films. Everyone, in the end, seems to have one redeeming feature or another. This worked very well in Mononoke and Spirited Away, where the 'bad' guys had valid reasons for being who they were, and in the end, came off as being justly likeable (or, at least, ambiguous). In this case, there is no justification for the rogue's behaviour. They are pirates who steal. The American pilot is eager to join them, and anyways, he's stupid (fittingly, he ends up becoming an actor). And the good guys aren't that great either. Porco Rosso ("'red' or 'crimson' pig") is a bounty hunter. Not the most despicable of professions, but it's not very honourable, even if he saves young girls (but allows the pirates to keep 1/2 of the stolen gold- huh?). The girls are nice looking, but that's it. That's all they're meant to be, even if Fio, the young engineer, breaks down barriers by designing a plane and doing a man's job. In the end, she's put up as the American's potential bride if he wins, vs. some loans which he must pay if Porco Rosso wins. She's quite literally equated with money, being placed atop the perch opposite the money bag.

3) The love story is utterly unconvincing. Firstly, Porco Rosso is a pig. He used to be a man, and he changes into one occasionally, but mostly, he's a pig. A relationship between a pig and a woman is not likely to come off as convicing. When you have issues regarding who the love interest is, it becomes even more complicated. Is it Fio, or is it Rosso's dead friend's wife? In the end, it's clearly meant to be Rosso's dead friend's wife, but how exactly is that supposed to work itself out? We're not told if they do get together; the film ends with Fio leaving it to us to figure out. Sadly, I don't think I cared enough to spend my time doing that.


Some positives:

- The animation, as always, is beautiful. The spaces that Miyazaki imagines into being are magnificent. Rosso's hideout is an absolute dream: a beautiful island with a hollow centre that forms a kind of laguna with a beach. So private, so serene, so utterly captivating. In addition, Gina (the love interest) has this beautiful little garden/castle island, which is also just so...dreamy! Very beautiful to look and marvel at.

- I did appreciate the bit of commenrary on the depression, with all of the women coming together to work on Rosso's airplane. Their husbands left to seek work elsewhere, and they themselves cannot find jobs in the city.

- Even though I didn't think it worked well throughout, the idea of Rosso as a pig is rather brilliant in that it makes him out to be an outcast who is sought after by the fascists. Yet, they are the real 'pigs', and he is clearly morally superior to them. It's an obvious point, but I liked the fact that it was made.


B+

Porco Rosso is his best film.

INSIDE MAN


A very silly film. Here are some of the reasons why:

The film, being an 'unconventional' heist movie, automatically indicates to us, the audience, that we should be alert of cliches. The use of cliches itself is not automatically bad; we can accept it if the film is honest about using them. But if a film deliberately tells us that it aims to take a new route, any use of cliches makes it look far worse to us. And this film, of course, uses plenty of cliches. Want to play 'identify the cliche'? How about the profusive race-related stuff? Lee is alright with diversity within accepted confines. But the groups are familiar to us: the black cop; the white woman from an Ivy League school (who is told by the detective to "kiss" his "black ass"); the Jew who has a cousin who is in the diamond business; the old white man who owns the company; the etc etc etc

It makes a pathetic attempt to preach tolerance and warn against prejudice, and yet it contains prejudice. The Sikh being mistaken for an Arab has already become a cliche. You have, of course, the bad guy being a Nazi sympathizer, etc etc etc. In those cases, the film directly points out that these things are wrong. Ok, great. Now what else has it got? It's got officers calling Russians "savages" (and this time, the officer is not censured), and we've got an Albanian woman who smokes, dresses terribly slutty, and wants her tickets taken care of in exchange for aiding the police. How wonderful. Heh.

It attempts to be a somewhat profound film by assuming moral ambiguity. But there is no moral ambiguity. You see, we are expected to think that Dalton's actions, in leading to the capture and punishment of a Nazi collaborator, will come across as more acceptable. But of course they are not. What happens in the film is that a rotten scoundrel finds an even more rotten scoundrel, and effectively does business with him (gets rich off him), gets off inspite of terrorizing a group of innocent people, of holding up an entire city block, and of wasting the time of the police whose resources could have gone elsewhere to protect the citizens of New York. Dalton used the innocent bank employees and customers to get his way; he overshadows his actions by pointing to the greater wrong committed by Arthur Case. Yet their two cases are so much alike: Arthur too did something wrong, and has tried to make amends for it. It doesn't work in his case. And it cannot work in Dalton's case. With his credibility at zero, his moralizing goes down the drain too, and with it much of the film's moral content (whatever the hell that is supposed to be; I'm guessing "Don't do business with the Nazis")

Madeline White is made to come off as a sympathetic character, largely because it's difficult to dislike Jodie Foster. But of course she is terrible too: she deals with morally corrupt people. So did Arthur. She's essentially like him too.

And what of Detective Keith Frazier? Good guy until the last scene. The thief gave him a diamond. The last shot we see is of him smiling slyly. Now, it's not likely he'll catch the thief, so we can say that he will most likely keep the diamond. The diamond that was stolen from the murdered Jews. The blood-tainted diamond he will give his fiancee. We know he knows about Arthur's Nazi past. We know he must know where the diamond came from. And he accepts it. This, ladies and gentlemen, is character assassination 101.

And this Nazi thing, dear God. Look here: when you're trying to be original, don't use something that would apply to thousands of businessmen. As Foster's character says in the film, half the Fortune 500 companies did the same thing Arthur did. I don't know if that's the case, but plenty of New York banks (Chase Manhattan, etc.) did a lot of business with the Nazis. So did thousands of other companies. This doesn't diminish the immorality of it; but it makes the plot so much worse. You see, this is nothing new to us; we've heard these stories. And they're not shocking. People do business with countries that abuse plenty of their citizens right now. How many thousands has China executed and tortured? How many millions of companies are doing business with it right now?

We can excuse all this stuff if it were not for the fact that the plot, and therefore the film's pace, suspense, etc. suffers greatly. A bank is robbed- exciting. People are killed- exciting. No wait, it turns out they're just hurt- not exciting. The bad guy turns out to be not that bad- very unexciting. He talks to the kid and is nice to him- terribly unexciting. The standoff ends without any theft of money, any bad guys being caught (save, we assume the Nazi partner, though even that is kept offscreen damn it!), anything substantial being done!


Foster, Washington, Owen were good in their roles, but who cares; the film sucked.


C-

It's implied form the beginning of the film that Washington's character is not really a good guy. From the suspected missing money to his willingness to play ball with Foster, we are clearly dealing with a man who may have once had had ideals but now he wants to get promotions and he is willing to play ball. I found him more intteresting because he's a little bit dirty.

I don;t think Dalton was all that sympathetic, he's a criminal, my interest in him was only in understanding his plan, but at the end of the day, I don;t like or disliek him, he's not really a full blown chracter, we know nothing about him. He is only interesting as an someone who orchestrated this crime.

This is definitely not one of Lee's strongest films, but I still enjoyed it, the scene between Dalton and the kid was very amusing, and yes there are cliches, but let me tell most Americans can't tell a Sikh from an Arab, its like that website alllooksame were you have to idenity who is Japanese, Chinese, and Korean...Americans are not overall good at these things. My boyfrined from India, and lots of Americans think of him as Arab.

The cliches bugged me b/c I expect more from Lee, but his imprints were on the film and overall I enjoyed it as a heist film.

I am pleased to see your love for Rope. A movie I have loved since I was a kid (although, naturally, I wasn't exploring it so deeply when I was 10). It is one of my favorite films of all time.

I should point out that it works great as a straight forward suspense.

Hey, I'd nearly forgotten about that.

What is your secret, Box?

I did enjoy Inside Man too, Ripper, because of the three main performances. I had a smile on my face in the scenes between Foster and Washington. I love the two enough to watch them in any film. Washington's performance was showy enough, I think, and he did the best with what the script gave him, but Foster's character was, as one would expect, sidelined. I mean, she's a shadowy figure who enters and exits the plot whenever it's convenient for her.




The Apartment


If, by the end of this film, you don't fall in love with Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine, something is obviously wrong with you. What a splendid pair of performances those two give!

What I like about the film is its lucidity: it's quite obvious what is going on, and it's blatantly obvious that the two will get together. But boy, do we cheer for them when they get together. Of course, the get together at the end is not idealistic; how could it be if Fran has just had this awful experience with her previous relationship? But it's quite clear, at least to me, that all the ingredients come in place at the end to guarantee a happy and loving relationship between the two characters. This is of course speculation, but we know from the film that Fran has been well treated by Baxter in a way that she has not been by other men, and we know that they are, first and foremost, friends, which is as good a starting base as any.

What I didn't like is the film's light-hearted attitude towards the mistreatment of women; yes, I'm a modern viewer watching a film from 1960, but the way that cheating is almost taken for granted is quite disturbing. We don't, for one thing, get the female perspective; the husbands seem to be having a good time, but as to their wives, we get a glimpse of Sheldrake's wife, and that's it. There is the drunken wife of the man who is jailed in Cuba, but she appears to be an exception, and a very drunken one at that.

But Lemmon's Baxter and MacLaine's Fran are so utterly likeable, it's impossible not to enjoy this film.


A-

I disagree, i thought it was fun, funny, had great characters and has a compelling story.
Its one of his best films.

1.Princess Mononoke
2.Spirited Away
3.My Neighbor Totoro
4.Porco Rosso
5.Castle in the sky
6.Nausicaä of the Valley of the Winds

All those are 4 star films.

Howl's moving castle i would give ***1/2 stars, IMO his weakest is Kiki's delivery service, still a good film, i give that *** stars.

The New World sucked.

And yeah, because it was boring as hell. Not because of its technical aspects.

I have only seen Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle and Kiki's Delivery Service. Kiki'sa was definitely the weakest of the three, I'd grade it in the C-range.

The new world did indeed suck, malick makes the most boring films.

I liked Kiki's Delivery Service, but I definitely wouldn't rank it among Spirited Away/Mononoke

I haven't seen Castle in the Sky and Nausicaa yet, although they're both on my viewing list.

Spirited Away, Totoro, and Mononoke are great, great films.

I'm not sure why I didn't warm up to Rosso; I expected it to be among my favourites, but something just didn't click. The character is great, though. I'll bump its grade up to a B+. I find the story to be stronger than Howl's Moving Castle (Miyazaki's weakest film, imo), and the visual are so incredible. That scene with the pilots flying like angels is magnificent, almost Dantesque.

Superman Returns IMAX 3-D




I don't want to say too much about the film. I enjoyed it, yes, but it dragged towards the end, and it's not a very good movie.


-Singer is enthralled by images, but he ignores character and language. The dialogue is quite bad, and cheesy at the end, and the film has way, WAY too many religious undertones (the father becomes the son, the son the father? Huh? That's blatantly Jesus, who as God is both Father and Son, urgh)

-Singer relies too much on viewers' previous acquaintance with the characters, and the film does a bad job in convincing us that the lead characters have unique personalities. Bosworth and Routh do the best they can with what they've got, but they haven't got much to work with. The other characters have even less. The kid is an irritating idiot.

-Routh is a hunk, an extremely handsome man. Now here's the thing: that shouldn't be something we're really paying attention to. Maybe it's just me, but we should be concerned more about what the superhero is doing, rather than how good he looks doing it. How can you do that when the camera keeps dwelling on this guy, with grand music in the back, the light perfectly framing his body, his entire torso being almost thrown before us to, what?, marvel at? It was so overdone, it became absolutely irritating. I bet no one gave much thought to Christian Bale's physical appearance (though I bet he is at least as striking as Routh), because that's irrelevant! Urgh.

-Here's something for Singer to make note of: the audience is not automatically as enthralled by Superman as you are. Give us a reason why we should worship him, don't force it on us. The attitude of the film towards Superman inevitably reeks of arrogance. It's really amazing how enraptured Singer is with the character; it's as if we're seeing a young God (which is, in a way, the idea anyways)

-Superman as a character cannot mean as much to us as human beings as Batman or Spider-Man, who start out as humans and retain their humanity. Superman is not human, and never will be. He is fundamentally separate from us. It is by choice that he remains among human beings. With Batman and Spider-Man, even if they left, they could never leave humanity behind, because they are part of it by their very nature.

- If Superman is not human, how did he impregnate Lois? Why exactly should everyone except Lois be so immediately taken with a guy who abandoned Earth for five years without giving any reasons for his abscence, after taking it on himself to save humanity, thereby winning everyone's gratitude? You make a promise, you can't just renege on it and leave. And if you do, you can't jus tsay "sorry" and have things move along right thereafter. There are so many serious issues that the film flatly refuses to consider. It's typical of the film's utter blandness and hero-worship that it refuses to question the greatness of Superman.

-Lois is an even more sex-driven bimbo than Mary Jane is. The hunky, totally doable Superman, that one she's slept with. The kind Clarke Kent she literally pushes aside as if he was a nobody. And it's amazing how she can be so unconvincing in her emotional distress over her torn loyalties to Superman and to her loverboy.

And did anyone else find it bloody disturbing that she completely forgot Clark Kent in those five years? No emotional reunion, no nothing. It's as if he went away for five years. And for the love of God! You've slept with the guy, you hear his voice, he's been away for five years, exactly like Superman, he is of the same height, same eye colour, same hair colour- you moron!

-The reason for Luthor's destruction of America is idiotic to the utmost: in order to create the new island, he is destroying more real estate than he is creating. From the map, and area at least twice the size of the new island will be destroyed in the process. The difference is that, whereas much of the US is flat terrain that can be built on easily, the new island is wholly, fully rugged, impossible to habitate with current technology. If Luthor has the knowledge of thousands of years of foreign science at his disposal, why 1) is he so stupid as to plan the destruction of more land than he would create? 2) does he not find some way of colonizing other planets in other galaxies? Marlon Brando tells us that ther eare 28 or so galaxies they know of, and obviously those guys know how to transport humans from one place to another, since they transported Superman. Why not use that knowledge?

Cause it's fun to see Gotham destroyed!


There's much more, but who cares?


Good things: I love Parker Posey 4life! and the special effects are wonderful, especially on the IMAX screen. I loved the new island they built; brilliantly imagined and realized, esp. with regards to the cascading waterfalls.

On the IMAX 3D: I don't know if it was me wearing glasses and then the goggles, but that technology at present sucks. I found the images to be blurry and shifty during the 3D scenes. Also, the best actions scenes were not shot using 3D. I have no clue why on Earth the 3D thing is needed, since the larger screen size is a good enough incentive on its own.


Right now, B-/C+