The Happy Childhood Is Hardly Worth Telling: Angela's Ashes (1999)

The adaptation of Frank McCourt's memoir in all its high sentimentalism and Irish charm would have been a standout hit and well-received classic were it to come out any other year but 1999.  As many podcasts and bloggers have noted before me, 1999 has proven to be a standout film for contemporary cinema evidenced by the seemingly unstoppable amount of great, if not, at the very least, unique and important works.  In its two and a half hour undertaking, Angela's Ashes is an absolutely watchable film that has some true moments of heart-wrenching honesty and all around great performances, and given that I often see copies of McCourt's novel at second hand book stores, it is clear that it at one time or another was a widely acclaimed and read book, however, I am also aware that the heavy handedness of the text and subsequent sentimentalizing nature of the film are exploitative in their nature.  For the moments in the film that chronicle the emergence of first love, it is also important to note that these evolutions too come with loss and the film is never sure what to make of the ebb and flow of such natural occurrences, resulting in a linear narrative that manages to fail in its climactic structure.  Of course, I am hardly a person who advocates for such straight forward methodologies when concerning filmmaking, but the particular stylistic choices of McCourt's memoir and the directorial nature of Alan Parker.  The suffering Irish family is a trope culturally at this point and it is simply a matter of how committed the director or author are to the subject as to its success and Angela's Ashes is far from being as intense as My Left Foot.  I do, however, want to make it expressly clear that I am not against Angela's Ashes, I get the narrative it is trying to create and the methods it uses are certainly executed to the highest degree, but given that it was released relativley recently it is hard to embrace it for anything than traditional, deciding to play into the highly stylized romanticizing of poverty and suffering that would be blown into excess a year earlier with Titanic and as witty and energizing as the narrator's coming of age tale proves to be, it is simply not enough to justify its extended runtime and general lack of narrative evolution as characters move from point A to point B, only to realize that point A was the desired location after all.

Angela's Ashes, despite its suggestive name, actually focuses on the childhood and young adult experiences of Frankie McCourt, who is played by a handful of actors in this film since he ages throughout the lengthy temporal narrative.  Regardless, the story begins with Frank as a child and the realization of death when his parents Malachy (Robert Carlyle) and mother Angela (Emily Watson) suffer from the loss of a child due to it being born in the winter in their impoverished living conditions.  This sad misfortune begins the process of them moving from America back to Ireland, the exact opposite of what many were doing at the height of the Depression in both countries.  Upon arrival in the religiously and politically divided country Frank realizes the true powers of stereotyping as he is mocked by his classmates for being a "yank," as well for having a father who is lazy and from the North.  Nonetheless, Frank and his brothers are strong-willed children and they manage to survive even though their father hardly works, and when he does the money he earns is quickly wasted at the local pub.  Frank seems always keenly aware of these tragic actions on the part of his father and continually strives to make a path for himself in the world, while also attempting to earn money for his family, particularly his suffering mother.  Yet, when it becomes quite clear that their only means for survival is to completely remove their father from the live and work as live-in servants to a wealthy bachelor, Frank begins to question his place in the family, becoming quite critical of the discovery that his mother is providing sexual favors to the man for money, and finally moves out when he discovers that she would rather side with the man than her own son for the sake of economic safety.  Frank moves out on his own and finds work as a telegraph courier, which leads to his first sexual encounter with a young woman dying of tuberculosis, which gives him his last push into adulthood via an awakening to lust and death near simultaneously.  After a large sum of money falls in his way, Frank seizes the opportunity to truly begin his life in the only fashion he knows how, by moving back to America, although in the name of narrative closure it is suggested that he returns fondly upon all of the moments of his young life.

It is perhaps this emphasis on fondness that makes the film slightly more frustrating than rewarding, and I realize this is somewhat absurd coming from me, a person who loves when films take leaps and go against the grain of traditionalism.  However, in regards to Angela's Ashes the issue emerges when McCourt's text is vaguely adapted to make negative characters seems sanctimonious or something other than terrible.  Obviously the example I am referring to is Frank's father, Malachy who spends nearly all of his screen time drunk.  Of course, as children Frank and his brothers are less likely to pick up on these problems, and instead; embrace his more light-hearted paternal moments, which would be fine if the film also did not seem content with this methodology.  The fact of the matter is that Malachy is blowing his earnings on booze while allowing his children to go hungry and even worse for his wife to be so malnourished that when she gives birth it results in sick babies who die within hours or days of arriving into the world.  At no point is this truly challenged, sure Angela kicks Malachy out of the house and society seems intent on chastising Malachy, but it is so much more entrenched in his Northernness than in his alcoholism.  I must confess that I have not read the book so I am uncertain as to how Malachy is depicted in the context of the memoir, but it seems as though any attempts at defending his near atrocities should be undercut by the realities, something that the film manages to avoid on a regular basis.  While Malachy's character is the biggest problem of the film it is certainly not the only vague depiction of oppression, the film seems to have a unbalanced and wavering depiction of many of the institutions of the era, particularly the charity based organizations of the government and the Catholic church, as well as the role teachers played in Frank's upbringing.  I am not suggesting that Frank McCourt did not find success without a strong sense of self-worth and determination, but the film is a bit too self-aware about his post experience introspection to see where he was aided and hindered as a child, which causes the films sentimental nature to be more misguided than endearing.

Key Scene:  When Frank begins his affair with the young woman with "consumption" it is one of the few moments of absolute narrative and cinematic cohesion and it is hard not to get emotive at its beautiful depiction of loss of innocence.  If only this film were that consistent throughout it may well have been one of the highlights of a year of excellent film.

Angela's Ashes is not a bad movie, in fact, it is quite good.  My issue arise with some of its obtuse moral statements and considering that it is rather expensive on DVD, I cannot suggest you go out of your way to see it in the near future.

Your Dog Is Alive!: Frankenweenie (2012)

As I get closer to compiling the ever important best films of last year list (at least in my head I have blown it to such proportions) I considered creating a tie at number ten for Django Unchained and Moonrise Kingdom, two solid films by well-established directors that were not their greatest work, but managed to prove quite decent...and then I saw Frankenweenie.  Now I am quite aware that Tim Burton is tied to Dark Shadows, for which I have not seen, but have, nonetheless heard to be quite bad.  I say that this changed my opinion of Django Unchained and Moonrise Kingdom only because while those films were good they failed to depict either Tarantino or Anderson taking any serious leaps as directors.  What viewers are provided with in regards to Frankenweenie is a film in which a director has clearly chosen to create something fresh, new and has certainly attempted to expand artistically.  Frankenweenie is, of course, a visual masterpiece, something that is often assumed with the work of Burton and its clear homage to the classic era of monster movies is much welcomed by myself and from what I have been able to glean, pretty much anyone else either old enough or film literate enough to appreciate the references.  However, the visual elements are only a minor factor in the larger magic of Burton's pseudo-remake of a short film from earlier in his career.  It is much more than the story of attempting to reattain a dead animal and becomes a deeply sobering consideration of the larger concept of loss, as well as a fitting comfortably within a world of ill-fitting conformities.  The film demands that viewers consider their own implications within a society of oppression and condemnation for anything even remotely unconventional, while also challenging the notion that to question anything is to inherently desire an undermining of systematic order.  Also, the very adult nature of the images, as well as the themes, makes one consider its category as a Disney film, particularly an animated one at that.  In fact, if it were not for the existence of The Straight Story within their production collection, I would outright call this the biggest surprise in regards to Disney films to date.

Frankenweenie focuses on the aptly named young Victor Frankenstein (Charlie Tahan) whose desire to make homemade sic-fi movies on his low budget camera that star his dog Sparky seems to be more than enough to make his life happy, even though is parents seem somewhat concerned about his rather introverted lifestyle.  Victor lives within the town of New Holland which is overseen by the rather cantankerous and fear-mongering Mr. Burgemeister (Martin Short) whose hopes for New Holland being a land of ideal living are forced upon the community as well as his niece Elsa Van Helsing (Winona Ryder) who attempts to befriend Victor on multiple occasions.  During one of his days at school, Victor becomes fascinated with the possibility of winning his school science fair supervised by the ghastly Mr. Rzykruski, for whom Victor has taken a liking.  Victor's dad, also voiced by Martin Short, encourages his interest in the sciences, but also suggests that the young boy attempt sports as a means of making new friends and rounding himself out.  It is during his first game that Victor finds success hitting a ball out of the park, yet when Sparky chases after the ball gleefully he becomes victim to an car accident, dying on the spot.  Victor, is understandably devastated by the occurrence and takes to living as a hermit yet again, until he learns about the power of electricity to revive the muscles in a dead being.  Creating his own traditional Frankenstein experiment on Sparky, Victor is able to successfully revive his dead dog, although the bizarre nature of such an act forces him to sequester the happy pup into hiding, leading to suspicion from his classmates, parents and Elsa who desperately attempts to gain his attention.  A young boy named Edgar "E" Gore (Atticus Shaffer) learns of Victor's secret and exploits him in order to gain information for his own science project, leading to larger suspicions on the part of the youth in the community, eventually resulting in their own bizarre science experiments that, ultimately, lead to giant turtles, mutated sea monkeys and vampire cats roaming the town of New Holland, much to the frustration of Mr. Burgemeister.  Victor is required to put his scientific brain to the test in reversing all the experiments, eventually leading to an intense final climax at the towns windmill, which is now in flames and he learns a larger lesson on sacrifice from Sparky in the process.

This film is a veritable prose poem on the nature of loss both in terms of innocence and a close intimate connection.  While it does not outright say it and I have not done any researrch to verify it, I would imagine that the concept for this story came from a very personal part of Burton's soul as the means by which he depicts losing a childhood pet is quite accurate.  I never personally lost a dog, but I know the devastation of losing a cat at a very young age, something that is often a child's first experience with death.  The second element of this narrative seems to suggest a passion for refusing to give up on anything you love, even if that thing changes, sure this is evidenced in Victor's desire to bring Sparky back to live, but it also rings true in his quest for scientific truth.  As Mr. Rzykruski reminds him, no truth can occur in science without a person truly loving the experiment with which they are engaged.  The town of course is entirely opposed to this concept as they see it as a cause in one local boy being injured, although the narrative seems quite intent on suggesting it a result of some rather direct bullying.  Victor's parents are certainly loving towards the troubled youth, but even their liberal and progressive mindset proves challenged when they are asked to not only go against an entire anti-science community, but also accept that their son has brought an inanimate object back to life and expects it to be treated like part of the family.  Burton's choice to set the film within a clearly fifties setting, while also making it a contemporary dialogue is likely intended to cause viewers to consider their separation from the fear and blindness of Cold War America, something that the various monster movies referenced within the film reinforce beautifully.  I cannot begin to list the other commentaries existing within this film as they are both broad and specific to scenes, suffice to say this is the single best thing offered by a Disney subsidiary since Up and reminds me that there is a clear division between this and some of the conservative oriented crap they tend to release.

Key Scene:  The introduction of the various science experiement monsters will make any lover of old sci-fi/horror movies gush with enjoyment.

Buy this bluray, I certainly intend to at some point, even if it does have a bit of a hefty price tag.  Until its release date I would suggest renting it from a Redbox.

Life Has A Gap In It...It Just Does: Take This Waltz (2012)

Take This Waltz can be an initially deceptive film, because if a viewer is to only take the first five or so minutes of the film as a signifier of its larger concept, it could easily be dismissed as pretentious hipster filmmaking in which the filmmaker seems more intent on showing how great their vision is cinematically than what their story offers, however, once a person makes it through this initial bump the  story explodes into something tragically real and soberingly poetic, never slowing down and constantly adding both ethereal and jarring imagery to study life in its most plain existence.  It is no small task to make Michelle Williams look like a complete mess, yet a combination of realist techniques on the part of director Sarah Polley, as well as a commitment to a disheveled appearance both physically and emotionally on the part of Williams makes for one of her most honest and gut-wrenching performances since Blue Valentine.  Like Blue Valentine, Take This Waltz does not attempt to offer an idyllic vision of human existence, although it certainly offers a considerably larger amount of moments in which life proves to be beautiful even if for a few fleeting seconds, almost always brought back to the jarring despair of reality.  While I have not seen Polley's earlier work Away From Her, I hear many good things about it and cannot wait to investigate it in relation to this work.  Take This Waltz demands its viewers to consider what sacrifice as an action truly means, allowing for this to serve both as a issue faced by characters within the narrative as well as the actors, who engage in actions in front of the camera that would not have been imaginable only a few years earlier, particularly some of the things pulled off by Sarah Silverman who delivers an excellent performance.  As I come closer to watching enough movies to justify formulating my top ten list of 2012, I am quite certain that this film will make the list, in fact, as I look over some of the films I still have to view it seems quite impossible that this will be topped, although to be fair, I had no idea what I was going into with this work and that could prove similar for some films I have yet to watch.  Also I am a sucker for well-executed cinematic references and the one tip of the hat to The 400 Blows is incredible.

Take This Waltz focuses almost entirely on the experiences of aspiring writer Margot (Michelle Williams) who is introduced to viewers as she is returning from a vacation to her hometown of Toronto, on the trip she meets a man named Daniel (Luke Kirby) whose agressive demeanor and cool attitude prove intriguing to Margot, so much so that a clear romance begins to emerge.  Yet upon arrival home, even after the revelation that Kirby is her neighbor, Margot pushes Daniel away because she is married.  It is only then that viewers are introduced to Margot's loving and stalwart husband the chicken chef Lou (Seth Rogen).  Lou clearly loves Margot and wants the best for them both, although the ability of his recovering alcoholic sister Geraldine (Sarah Silverman) to have a child with no trouble clearly looms over him and affects the communication between himself and Margot.  Matters are only made worse when Margot begins to secretly plan meetings with Daniel, who is receptive and actively attempts to get her to be unfaithful.  Margot clearly desires to be with Daniel, but cannot stand the thought of betraying Lou who has been more than loving and not deserving of Margot's infidelity, as such Margot plans to meet Daniel in thirty years, in which case she believes that she will have been faithful long enough to earn a kiss.  However, life does not prove that simple and due to part purpose and part chance Daniel keeps emerging into Margot's daily life, whether it be an accidental encounter that leads to both Margot and Lou riding in Daniel's rickshaw, or Daniel being invited to a house party by Lou who is oblivious to the entire ordeal.  Racked with guilt, Margot finally admits to her feelings and leaves a defeated Lou to be with Daniel, yet as the narrative suggests even the newness and passion of her life with Daniel fades and repetition and normalcy emerge.  In a sobering scene, both literally and metaphorically, Geraldine condemns Margot for her selfish actions and demands that she stop running away from her choices, leading to a closing scene of Margot enveloped in isolation, all of which is paired with the best use of "Video Killed The Radio Star" in a film ever.

Polley's film approaches the idea of infidelity, faithfulness and betrayal in one of the most honest and acceptable manners I have seen in a film to date, where as The Bridges of Madison County approached the problem of a woman questioning her unappreciated place in life, Take This Waltz does not afford the main character the outlet.  She has no justification in her infidelity, because aside from simply marrying to early and falling out of love, her husband has done nothing to deserve her unfaithfullness, in fact, he is almost too aware of her desires and needs.  The only serious argument they seem to have prior to her leaving is when he dismisses her advances while busy at work testing recipes, although viewers are quite aware that her sexual desires are likely an outlet from her tensely sexual conversation with Daniel only moments earlier.  Margot cannot be condemned too heavily for her eventual leaving, because she is honest about her feelings towards Daniel and aside from spending time with him in a platonic way never actually acts upon them in a physical way, nonetheless, Lou is justified in his feelings of betrayal because while she has not cheated on him she has undermined and tossed away an unspoken agreement to stay together for as long as time allows, emphasized with a heightened sense of tragedy in the final water tossing scene.  All of this blurring of viewers' notions of relationships makes it quite difficult to conceptualize the victim within the film, because while Lou is certainly getting a raw deal he cannot expect to force someone to stay with him that simply does not have their heart in the game, nor can Daniel or Margot be blamed for their desires because they emerge naturally and are not intended to be vindictive to Lou in any way.  Polly, I would argue, seems to suggest that life makes victims of us when we cannot properly address situations the moment they emerge, especially when the consequences have dire effects on both individuals hearts and the relationships of those around them.

Key Scene:  The initial amusement park ride scene is filmed with such cinematic beauty that when it comes to a jarring stop I felt my heart jump a bit, something I am far more used to experience during a scary movie, yet it is so tragic in this context that I could not help but react emotively.

This is yet another great film from last year going under the radar and it deserves all the love it can get, buy the bluray, or watch it on Netflix while you still can.

All Noise And No Action: Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (2011)

A deceptively simple film, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia displays what is possible in the burgeoning Turkish film culture in near epic proportions.  While the film was initially released in Turkey in 2011, it has come state side within the last year, causing it to receive serious hype and Oscar buzz and deservedly so since it proves to be a stroke of brilliance by director Nuri Bilge Ceylan who would receive a co-award for the Grand Prix prize at Cannes.  The film is hefty and heavy both in its length and its commentaries, manages to exist in the matter of less than twenty-four hours, while also maintaining relatively minimal setting changes.  Viewers are likely to initially become involved with the cinematography of the work, perhaps looking over the rapid dialogue, much of which is lost on the ears and eyes of non-Turkish speakers.  Once Upon A Time in Anatolia reflects one of those rare treasures of a film where you can clearly see every decision and moment carefully working under the hands of the director.  At no point is a pause, a lingering shot or quick glance by an actor accidental, in fact, I would gladly compare this film to Kiarostami's Close-Up, although Ceylan's film is far less concerned with the metaphysical nature of filmmaking.  Furthermore, the film makes no apologies about its cultural references and actions being non-Western, although the entire film has a certain element of familiarity about it, after all it is from Turkey, a global location nearly perfectly divided between the Western and Eastern world.  Also, any cinephile will be quick to realize that the phrase "once upon a time" gets thrown around quite frequently when discussing film titles, whether it be large areas and concepts like the West, or moments in a nation's identity as is the case with a certain Scorsese film.  Yet, what makes Once Upon A Time in Anatolia distinct with its title choice, is that it is indeed about time in a very specific sense, and not a broader period, making its fairy tale reflection all too appropriate, as well as terribly ironic, considering that nothing about the world Ceylan depicts could ever be considered idyllic.

Once Upon A Time in Anatolia, again is deceptive in its seeming plainness, particularly concerning a plot almost entirely focused on searching for a buried body.  This task of uncovering a secret takes up nearly two hours of the plot, only to become shoved to the side when those involved return to their precinct to piece together the murder.  Like early Kevin Smith films, or a Wilt Stillman film, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia is about the conversations and the reflections shared between people, whether it be waxing poetic about buffalo yogurt and lamp chops, or truly contesting the nature of human existence.  Characters include the no-nonsense prosecutor Nusret (Taner Birsel) whose job is to find this body, even if it means driving his team to passing out, yet even his bullheaded ways can lead to moments of serene humor, as is clear when they finally discover the dead body and he fancies its features to that of Clark Gable.  Similarly there is the doctor Cemal (Muhammet Uzuner), a somewhat reserved man who seems to consider all occurrences relative to their factual explanation, yet even when he receives some distinct factual discovers, the irrationality of the acts which led to their happening cause him to consider every sort of grounded notion he previously held, leading to a rather heart-wrenching moment in which he stares out a window and considers the fate of children, a group in which the narrative seems particularly concerned for, in that adults terrible decisions invariably affect their future.  Finally, Once Upon A Time in Anatolia is distinctly about the fleeting moments of poetics that go unnoticed, whether it be as simple as an apple floating down a creek or a man falling in love with a young woman lit only by candlelight.  A film chiefly concerned with time, Ceylan manages to layer the various forms of time into a lengthy, yet absolutely watchable meditation on cycles, transcendence and expectations in regards to various temporal existences.

I mention time as being something of notoriety within a film that boldly uses time within its title.  I recall taking a humanities course during my undergraduate studies, in which an art theory professor contested that Edvard Munch's The Scream possesses well over twenty different types of studies on time within its seemingly simple execution.  I remember thinking, at the time, that it was the most pretentious thing I had ever heard, however, as I learned more about theory and the manner with which time affects ones existence both philosophically and physically I began to understand his argument.  I would, as such, argue that Once Upon A Time in Anatolia considers various forms of time, although nowhere near as many as the classic painting.  For example, the film on an obvious level considers the battle against time, in that the crew must find a buried body in which they fight against the physical affects of erosion on the body over time.  However, the conversations in the film suggest a serious concern with existential time, as well as lingering on the past, both variants of time that the human existence has very little control over, unless of course we manage to build time machines at some point. Perhaps the most poignant and emotive consideration of time in this film comes when the older men attempt to rationalize the world of children something they see as being destroyed constantly by their terrible decision, yet at no point do they seem intent on changing their ways.  Instead, it takes physical confrontations by children for them to reflect on the tragedy of their wrongdoings, at moments coming via attacks by rocks, while at other instances as a pseudo-play being acted out through a window sill in the police precinct.  Time in this film, as always, is profusely relative, however, it seems to suggest that on rare occasions it can coalesce with cinematic and poetic magnitude.

Key Scene:  The apple rolling down the hill scene has certainly occurred before in cinema, yet it is so well placed in this film that it is hard not to revel in its beauty.

Another offering via Netflix that should not be overlooked, because considering its "foreign" nature it could disappear without explanation.

What's Wrong With A Stroller?: Away We Go (2009)

In the wake of the seeming success of Skyfall, a film I have yet to watch and as reflection of the relevance American Beauty seems to lose as the decades continue, I was somewhat surprised upon beginning Away We Go to discover that it was directed by Sam Mendes, who has director credits for the previously mentioned and critically celebrated films.  I am uncertain as to why Away We Go managed to accrue much less praise considering that I found it to be incredibly provocative, well-executed and perhaps one of the most difficult films to watch without immediately exuding a heavy emotional response.  It combines all the sentimentality, quirkiness and obscure guitar heavy music one could desire from an indie film, yet with a director like Mendes at the wheel and well established comedic actors the film transcends this genre cornering both in its mainstream qualities as well as its vibrancy.  The actors in this film, most of which are playing considerably self-loathing characters, deliver performances of such a high degree that it cannot, and should not be ignored.  I would venture to pair this film with something like Up In The Air, although Away We Go focuses on a considerably younger group of people, nonetheless, it manages to tap into the life force of those it studies with such earnestly and vigor that it makes for a insanely watchable film.  It also does not hurt that the film is visually alluring and delivers some of the most jarringly beautiful cinematography one could ever excpect from a film which sells itself as a light comedy.  I actually wonder if it is not the terrible misappropriation of this film as a comedic piece that caused its initial demise, because while I certainly laughed loudly at moments throughout Away We Go its larger context and motifs reflect the most tragic of human moments, ones that seem doomed to continue and it suggest that only those with the strongest of love can transcend the absurdity, however, escaping such physical attachments still takes little account of the emotional and mental strains such a framework causes.

Away We Go begins with a couple discovering that they are to have a child, the couple Verona (Maya Rudolph) and Burt (John Krasinski) remain unmarried, although they are clearly mad about each other, an act that is a direct honor to Verona's parents who died when she was only twenty-two.  The realization that their lives will change irreversibly after the birth of their child, Verona and Burt plan a trip accross The United States and into Canada with the hopes of discovering the perfect place to raise their child, a decision heavily influenced by the announcement that Burt's parents will be moving to Belgium well before the birth of the child.  This trip allows for both Verona and Burt to reflect on their own relationship and what they have achieved with their young adult lives, which becomes quite blatant between each group they meet.  The first two people, one of which was a former coworker of Verona consume alcohol feverishly and demean their kids as they clearly live through their own disillusionment, blaming everyone but themselves for their unhappiness.  Verona's sister Grace (Carmen Ejogo) seeks solace within her sister, while also displaying some degree of jealousy towards what she sees between Burt and Verona.  In a meet-up with Burt's half-sister LN (Maggie Gyllenhaal) the couple realize the disaster that is "new age" parenting, a method in which LN and her partner Roderick (Josh Hamilton) seem far more concerned with embracing their own miseries and desires than providing any sense of normalcy for their children.  When they meet another couple, old college friends, they witness the problems of miscarriage and desire to fill a void of loss.  Even during an unexpected trip to Burt's brother adds a layer to their understanding of live, as they help him through the devastation of his wife's unexpected leaving of him and his daughter.  Defeated and more confused than ever Verona and Burt fall asleep on a trampoline and awake to decide that their best course of action is to return home and raise their child, although we are not quite sure in the closing moments of the film where exactly that home may be.

This film poignantly captures the woes of growing up in a world that problematically embraces individualized misery.  The characters noted above, all exist in their own severe depressions and become so preoccupied with the disdain that it causes them to distance themselves from one another.  This causes each to resort to some degree of false fulfillment, whether it be alcohol or hyper-protective parenting.  Even with some one like LN, viewers are shown a person who is so concerned with creating a cozy and unified existence with their child that they create a humongous bed for the who family to share, not realizing the irony in making such a large sleeping space, an act that has inherent intimacy about it.  Of course,  the exception to this action within the film comes through Verona and Burt, and while they are certainly individuals, there actions are often extensions of one another.  It is only when Verona reflects on her parents death that she steps away from Burt for any length of time, often waiting until he is either on the phone with clients or sleeping as to not suggest a separation from him.  It is actually their incredible closeness blended with an ability to organically separate and unify as necessary that allows for Burt and Verona to move throughout the film, eventually growing above everyone else pain and suffering.  They often contest whether they are growing up properly and worry about their futures in relation to those they have viewed, yet, one cannot help but feel as though their reassurance and comfort allows for fears to be quickly overcome and shared happiness to be explosively shared, as we see in the closing, heart-wrenchingly beautiful scene.  They choose to go about their lives, in both misery and happiness together, as opposed to the individualized concerns of those they encountered previously, made all the more pertinent by the fact that they are able to do so even without the ties of marriage.

Key Scene:  The closing moments of this film are exceptional and a worthy conclusion to such a fantastic and criminally underrated film.

The bluray for this is quite magnificent and incredibly cheap, a copy is essential.

They Came Home. And With Them My Life Of Details: The Bridges Of Madison County (1995)

I have, much to my shame, gone for quite a bit of time without seeing a film directed by the prolific Clint Eastwood, who, politics aside, is a nearly indomitable figure in Hollywood history.  Furthermore, as a friend of mine suggests he is one of the only classicist directors still working, something that is quickly evident in what I have seen of his trailer, as well as his directing of The Bridges of Madison County.  For whatever reason, perhaps the fact that my memories of it emerge from being eight or so when it came out, I assumed this film to be an absolutely sappy and unbearable chick romance flick, one that I would never in a million years have attached to the hypermasculine Eastwood.  Of course, when I found this film again I had not realized that it was indeed directed by Eastwood and remembering that it was well received, or at the very least popular upon its release, I decided to give it a whirl.  The earnestly, beauty and intimacy with which Eastwood brings Robert James Waller's film to life, makes every lackluster adaptation of equally uninspired Nicholas Spark's books seem frivolous and ill-intended, A Walk to Remember excluded, a film for which I am quite fond.  The chemistry between Eastwood and Streep on film is palpable and instantaneous, a performance that would garner Streep one of her seemingly countless amount of nominations.  The films is not perfect by any means though and does suffer from a considerable length issue, mostly the fault of the somewhat unnecessary inclusion of the children's reading of their mothers account of infidelity.  However this minor criticism aside, The Bridges of Madison County is a magnificent work that forces viewers to reconsider their notions of first love, ageist assumptions about romantic intimacy and the degree of "infidelity" that occurs when an individual is stuck within an unfulfilling  marriage or relationship.  If we consider Eastwood to be a classicist filmmaker, which I do, it is in the way of melodramatic subtlety, a phrase I use intentionally for its oxymoronic quality.

The Bridges of Madison County begins with two adults meeting in the home of their late mother Francesca (Meryl Streep) to go through her personal belongings and undertake the enactment of her will.  The two children Carolyn (Annie Corley) and Michael (Victor Slezak) become particularly confused and reluctant when it is revealed that their mother request to be cremated and have her ashes strewn off the side of an old bridge near her house.  They make particular note of the fact that their father Richard (Jim Haynie) purchased to parallel graves to lay together in for eternity.  However, as a set of journals reveal, when the children and their father spent a week away at the state fair, Francesca engaged in an affair with a National Geographic photographer named Robert Kincaid (Clint Eastwood).  Michael is furious with the news, while Carolyn shows a considerable degree of intrigue beginning to thumb through the journal and see how such an act evolved.  It becomes clear, as viewers are situated into the initial encounter, via flashbacks and the diagetic narration of Francesca that the events unfolded in the most innocent of manners, first with Kincaid inquiring about the location of bridges then to Francesca offering to tag along as a guide.  Even when they spend their first evening together it is not sexual but simply the act of enjoying one another's company, over food and some brandy laced coffee.  It is the second day, after some suspicion by towns folk that Kincaid and Francesca are more weary, yet after purchasing a new dress for the occasion the two spend the evening together, eventually engaging in intercourse.  All the while we are shown Carolyn and Michael's reactions which evolve from outright discuss to deep understanding.  The night between the two is notably fleeting and despite Kincaid's demands that Francesca join him, she chooses to stay and welcome the return of her family, a painful moment that she accepts like a martyr.  By possible chance, Francesca sees Kincaid in town one last time and even has to suffer through sitting behind his truck at a red light, clutching the handle to her husband's truck as she considers fleeing into his world.  However, she does stay and instead asks in the notes of her diary that her children acknowledge her request, as it is the least they can do in return for her sacrificed happiness.

The fact of the matter with The Bridges of Madison County is that it is a first rate romance.  The love story depicted between the two aging idealists is something for the ages and is never forced.  I would suggest that it represents the simplest and most realized moments of burgeoning love.  It is hard not to see the pangs of initial attraction occur, when Kincaid first steps out of his truck, and it is certainly realized when Francesca discusses the erotic attachment she feels to Kincaid simply at the thought of ouccpying a space in which his naked body had resided only moments earlier, however, intercourse aside the evolution of their romance is youthful in the fullest of terms.  It begins by playful interactions in a car, leading to Kincaid picking wildflowers for Francesca, reminiscent of many a summer loves follies.  Furthermore, Kincaid's recollections on his brief experiences in a small town in Italy which Francesca originally hails, causes her to return to a youthful state, one that allows her to open veritable romantic floodgates.  If we then consider the location of their moment of sexual encounter, it plays beautifully into the youthful nature, in that it does not occur in a bed, but on a rug because of outside forces "condemnation" and interference.  However, romance of youthful hearts is obliterated with the reminders of Francesca's very adult responsibilities, ones that she must commit to and mean that their love must wait till the otherworldly to be fully celebrated.  In the end it causes the two adult children to reflect on their own love lives, which result in their acting with purposefully youthful zeal.

Key Scene:  The moment at the red light in which Francesca clutches the handle of the door seems to drag on forever, but it should as in her memories it went on for an eternity.

This was a stellar film, but not one I find absolutely necessary to own, yet should you enjoy romances this is top tier stuff.

The Truth Is, We're All Fighting For Salvation: George Washington (2000)

My recent review of Beasts of the Southern Wild heralded it as something so uniquely its own that I praised it incessantly suggesting that it was indicative of something new in filmmaking.  While I still thoroughly enjoyed that work and still think it reflects a grand change in independent cinema, I had never had the great pleasure of viewing George Washington, a directorial debut by David Gordon Green, whose, unfortunate, movement into stoner comedies has led me to never look into his ouevre.  However, George Washington sat as one of the early works I desired from the Criterion Collection and thanks to a recent subscription to HuluPlus I was able to watch this poetic film.  As for critical opinions there seem to be two fields of thought towards this film, the first suggests that it is a prententious exploitative film that borrows far to heavily from the playbook of Terrence Malick to be considered artistic and a second group who finds the cinematography, storyline and sheer atmospheric magic of this film to be indicative of rural southern life during its movement into a new millennium.  I am firmly within the latter grouping and found George Washington to be an exceptionally beautiful film about coming-of-age in a world of absurdisms, one that causes an individual to have a magical realist outlook towards the world, while also dealing with some intensely real issues.  The images in this film melt off the screen, at times literally peeling away and flow so smoothly despite changing subject matter that the comparisons to Malick are obvious, yet to suggest that this film rips his work off is to both discredit Malick and to misunderstand Green's film.  There are things such as the breaking on the filmic space by causing the image to distort that do not fit within the stylings of Malick, while the poetics and free floating narration of the film are clearly similar.  Yet, where Malick seems to go further into pondering, Green finds answers in the present, all be it ones equally ambiguous.  Furthermore, there exists an underlying humor to George Washington that is currently extinct within the work of Malick, but from what I understand he is to be making a comedy in the coming year...so that could all change.  Regardless, George Washington is a thing of beauty and incredibly visceral, yet understated.  You may have seen moments of this film elsewhere, but its collective offering is purely its own.

George Washington centers around everything but the first president of The United States, and while the main characters name is indeed George (Donald Holden) nothing else about him is presidential, of course this is 2000 well before the election of Barack Obama.  George is a young African-American boy who lives with his fiery-tempered uncle and subdued mother, and voyages around his rural Southern town wearing a football helmet, because of a rare skull condition that makes heavy contact and wetness detrimental to his survival.  His friends include the wise-cracking Buddy (Curtis Cotton III), who has an unusual penchant for wearing a velociraptor mask, Buddy's off and on girlfriend Nasia (Candace Evanofski) and Vernon (Damian Jewan Lee) a large boy who uses his authoritative figure in very few situations.  Aside from the young groups explorations and pontifications we are also provide a semi-regular glimpse into the some of the lives of working class young adults in the community, focusing specifically on Rico (Paul Schneider) who is often seen engaging in conversations with the youth.  The life they young people lead is not particularly easy and constant references to their lower-class living pop up throughout the film and, as such, their adventures often lead them to unusual places whether it be conversations in the pews of churches or the recitation of Shakespeare in a dilapidated community recreational hall.  One of these unusual encounters occurs in a bathroom, in which, George furious at Buddy for knocking him into the wall, pushes Buddy back, ultimately, causing him to slip on some water and bust his head open, an accident that proves fatal.  Panicking the group attempts to hide the body of Buddy in an abandoned house outside of town, only for George to feel guilty and eventually place the body in the river to be later discovered.  While the group never confess to their accidental murder, Vernon, along with a young girl named Sonya (Rachael Handy), who was also present at Buddy's death attempt to steal a car and escape from the city, with terrible results.  On the other hand, George attempts to counter his actions by going out of his way to save lives, donning a wrestling leotard, cape and his helmet he becomes a super hero in his mind.

George Washington manages to catch so many social reflections and philosophical inquiries within what appears to be a rather limited narrative net.  We as viewers are asked to ponder both the state of social equity as it relates to class, race, gender and even regional difference, but most importantly what role one's age has on their ability to confront the tragedies of the world, both affecting them and their loved ones.  George's room is by no accident adorned with a photograph of a smiling George H.W. Bush who appears to linger over his every reflection and action.  As is now well known, Bush, and his successor, failed to properly provide concern for the southern rural poor, despite playing heavily on this identity to earn votes.  By extension, however, George learns of these oppressions by not experience them himself, but seeing them through the pain and suffering of his psychologically troubled uncle, brilliantly named Damascus (Eddie Rouse).  Even George's interactions with Rico problematize notions of oppression, because while Rico is certainly quite open-minded in his race relations, even dating a black girl during the film, his progressive ideals do not necessarily reflect that of his entire town.  When George saves the life of a young white boy, the mother comes to thank George personally, and it is impossible to ignore her trepidation as she approaches the house that to her clearly houses the other.  Yet these elements of the film are entrenched within the eyes of the youth who are its subject, death, poverty and racism are not facts to them, but moments of uncertainty that are better explained by notions of fantasy and humor than grounded reason.  It is perhaps Nasia's professing on challenging god or Buddy's brilliant dinosaur Shakespeare monologue that manage to show that not all their ignorance is unintentional, instead; they choose when to ignore tragedy in life, as some awful things simply must not be acknowledged because no amount of explanation and maturity can justify their existence.

Key Scene:  The film has many, but I will constantly remember the one of Buddy quoting Shakespeare in a velociraptor mask.  It is forever burned into my memory, quite welcomely I do admit.

I watched this on Hulu and while it was a great introduction I cannot wait to purchase a copy and neither should you.

The Spider Web Drips With Water: The Day A Pig Fell Into The Well (1996)

Yet another Korean film and yet another piece of cinema I find myself enamored with.  While The Day a Pig Fell into the Well, manifests itself somewhat differently from many Korean films I have viewed, as well as those mentioned on the blog here, not because it is non-linear or multi-narrative, but because it is a work solely concerned within the tragic monotony of a few middle-class individuals in modern Seoul.  In that aspect, it is similar to other films I have seen in its fear and frustrations resulting from improper dealings with modernity, however, the better portion of this film just depicts a group of people failing on a large scale.  This is a poetic, highly sexual and incredibly watchable film, yet it is also a tragic film in which characters possess very few redemptive skills, lack the will to advance beyond their  insufferable existence and constantly cross behind each other back to engage in devious monetary mismanagements and a seemingly unending set of infidelities.  All that being said, director Hong Sang-soo in his debut manages to offer something so inherently realized and necessary that I am not surprised by its great success at the festival circuit and its constant mention in the various books on Korean cinema that I read.  I am a bit bothered though by its lack of familiarity on a larger cinema scale, not only on the stage of world cinema, but within Korean cinematic history as well.  Sure it is not Oldboy, or a classic Korean melodrama, but it is an opulently cinematic film that masks itself within the veneer of a gross and reprehensible set of characters, managing to create something that borders perfectly between disturbingly sparse and melodramatically grandiose.  The Day a Pig Fell into the Well, is a work that should stand as a lesson in how to produce an independent work that is always and at once well-acted, forward thinking and earnestly reflective of its previous influences.  While not one of the best made films by a long shot, perhaps a sounder made film does not exist.

The Day a Pig Fell into the Well, is a set of heavily interconnected stories about a group of individuals who exist within deceitful lives, in terms of monetary engagements, job related tasks and most importantly sexual exploits.  Arguably the largest factor within this film centers around characters going behind one another to engage in sexual acts, whether it be a writer who is having an affair with his wife, by having sex with a woman who is having an affair with her husband.  However, if this were all he was doing it would be one thing, the man also borrows money from one female only to turn around and give it to the person with whom he is having an affair.  Another segment of the narrative focuses on the cuckolded husband as he makes a trip to Seoul for business, only to turn around and sleep with a prostitute, something that leads to him getting an unspecified venereal disease, which in turn leads his wife to realize that he too has cheated, even though she is guilty of similar actions on a far more frequent basis.  We are even provided a glimpse into the writers other lover, who is head over heels about him, going so far as to buy him presents and swoon over him, yet when she comes to his apartment and finds him with another woman she becomes upset, leading him to chastise her and kick her around in the street.  Eventually, by some means of absurdism the group comes together at what is assumed to be a wake or funeral, the levels of infidelity become clear yet little confrontation occurs.  It is only in the end that the husband reasserts his masculinity upon his wife, but as the narrative suggests she has yet another relationship on the back burner.  Also some people are killed at some point, but that is almost a trope within Korean cinema at this point.

I cannot begin to expand on the possibilities for interpretation within this film, one could always touch upon the fears of modernity within contemporary Korea, a theme that I have mentioned frequently on this blog, but these are obvious critiques something not worth reiterating at this time.  I could even talk about the gender components in this film, because at times they are glaringly problematic, while in other moments they are quite revolutionary, however, I have an academic paper I am currently working on which will afford me that opportunity.  Instead, I am going to glean something from an article on the film that I have yet to read that discusses temporality and repetition in the work.  This seems to be a rather keen focus for this, film considering that it is essentially the same group of people, committing the same acts in somewhat similar spaces.  In fact, the only separating factor appears to be time a very temporal thing, but one that serves to solely sever a direct tie between each act.  Psychologically speaking this is what allows the characters to commit awful acts, ranging from money laundering to murder, a disconnect not by spacial awareness, but one of time, which I know makes little to no sense, but something about detaching oneself from a moment as it relates to spacial recognition is far more difficult than detaching oneself from a differing time period.  An obvious example is how we often overlook previous acts of genocide, because if we were not there we would not have committed them, this film suggests the opposite of that notion to varying degrees.  An individuals acts are contingent to a moment in time, we could all commit the crimes if they time, not the space allowed for its occurrence.  I know I have not hashed this theory out very well, but it is something I want to look into more and perhaps reflect on better in a later review.

Key Scene: The means by which sexual acts abruptly intercept scenes is so jarring and appropriate that it might be one of my favorite uses of intercourse in a film to date.

This is yet another film suffering from region blocks, once again, making Youtube your best viewing source.

I Wish It Was Already Monday: Treeless Mountain (2008)

I have seen quite a few Korean movies since I decided to make it an area of focus in my Graduate studies, however, Treeless Mountain was one of those films that floated around in my queue, well before I made this transition nearly a year ago, specifically under my Netflix liking of low-budget, cerebral stories of everyday life...or some crazy combination of film tropes and genres that seems absurd, but, nonetheless, appropriately describes my tastes.  When I read the description for the film, the plot which I will expand on shortly, made me assume that the work would be unbearably graphic and intensely uncomfortable.  Yet, this is not from the same set of veins that so many controversial Korean films seem to set their roots within, it is very much an independent film about two young girls coming to grips with growing up entirely too quickly and losing all sense of their innocence in the process.  Of course, this loss is expanded upon in very metaphorical turns, often taking moments of serenity and dabbling with comforts of viewers not in the grotesque, but in the tragically real.  One could easily change the race of these children and the location and draw upon the same themes globally, particularly when set within a metropolitan discourse.  Treeless Mountain has all the heavy handedness of a Truffaut oriented children's film's closing moments, I am thinking particularly of Small Change, but it could work to some degree for a few of his other earlier works.  Not to discredit those marvelous works, but I find the beauty of Treeless Mountain to reside in its taking of a stance as its narrative being rough, tragic and sparse, without giving viewers the comfort of whimsy for the first hour and some odd change of the film.  This film exists as a perfect syncrinization of a pitch perfect story, daring cinematography and perhaps some of the best child acting seen in decades.  Treeless Mountain has introduced me to a new burgeoning segment of Korean cinema that I cannot wait to explore.  While I certainly understand director So Yong Kim's move to making movies in Hollywood, it is a bit of a let down to realize that he will not return to subject matter of the same latent gravitas and subtlety.

Treeless Mountain begins with a cold opening of sorts, we are given the film credits overlapped as a young Korean girl consumes all things education within a classroom, the girl Jin (He-yeon Kim) appears to also enjoy playing Pogs, although this game causes her to be late in picking up her younger sister Bin (Song-hee Kim) an action that leads to her caretaker being incredibly upset.  They wait anxiously for the return of their mother from work, only to witness her react to their excitement in a beleaguered state of indifference.  It is revealed that the neighbor can no longer afford, or perhaps cares to, watch Jin and Bin, forcing the mother to unload them on their aunt, whom they "affectionately" refer to as Big Aunt (Mi-hyang Kim), a cantankerous older woman who constantly dismisses their questions and concerns.  It is eventually revealed that Big Aunt suffers from an incredible troublesome drinking problem and only sees the two children as a deterrent from her boozing.  Realizing that in order to meet up with their mom again the two must fill their piggy bank full of coins as promised, they take up selling grilled grasshoppers, eventually making more than enough to fill the plastic pig.  However, despite their mother's promise the two wait patiently at the bus stop before realizing that she will not return.  Even after making a friend with a local boy who suffers from an apparent mental disorder, the two are not able to escape that they must rely on their Big Aunt whose most recent drunk stupor has lead her to become so frustrated with the girls, that she unloads them onto their grandparents farm.  While their grandfather is incredibly against the idea of them staying, the grandmother takes an instant liking to the two girls and is shown training them in the ways of farming, before the two walk along the country side singing a sweet song, completely forgetting the tragedy of being abandoned by their own mother.

Loss of innocence is certainly the central theme to Treeless Mountain, particularly in that Jin and Bin are forced to come to a realization that parents are not necessarily the pillars of perfectness that youth allows you to assume.  I remember coming to this realization rather lately in my life at say nineteen or so and having considerable trouble consuming the notion, it is even more tragic to realize that this certainly occurs not only within this film, but to many people this age on a daily basis.  Blame can be directed in a variety of places, one could claim the mother at fault for not properly controlling her life and the lives of those she birthed, one could attack the educational and political systems in the film for not taking note of the obvious home troubles.  Hell, an argument could even be made as to why a misplaced valuing of capitalist endeavors are the root of the children's lost innocence, yet, however, one reads it, the fact is that Jin and Bin are made to realize the harshness of existence quite early and quite intensely.  While it may seem like one of the lesser moments in the film, almost a throw away moment, when Jin initially impales a grasshopper with a stick, one can read that as the ultimate moment of lost innocence, particularly because it is such a inherently violent act, even if the justification is creating food for them at some points as well as a means for profits.  In one reading it would be easy to see this scene as Jin and Bin displacing their own violent subjection upon something smaller than themselves, ultimately, as a means of financial gain, certainly something their mother could be considered guilty of doing, even if she had initially good intentions.  In fact, it is not until they find their grandmothers love, and, more importantly, disconnect from capitalist desire that they are able to regain some youthful bliss, which results in them ambitiously providing their piggy bank to their grandmother to buy new shoes.

Key Scene:  There are a few soberingly real moments throughout the film that cause viewers to question how "ignorant" Jin is to the world she engages with, one, in particular, occurs when she is receiving a sticker from the mentally challenged friend they have recently met.

This is a spectacular piece of cinema, easily one of my new favorites from South Korea.  It is a gift to be able to see it on Watch Instantly, although I dream of an imminent  Bluray upgrade.

Everybody Loses The Thing That Made Them: Beasts Of The Southern Wild (2012)

If this spectacular indie film is any evidence as to how the rest of 2012 will shape up in regards to film, I am ecstatic.  Easily the best film I have seen this year, Beasts of the Southern Wild is an emotive ride through a rather unconventional world, complete with moments of genuine sweetness and biting reality.    At no point in this film do you feel as though you are losing out on quality and, if anything you feel as though the movie ends far too soon.  Relying heavily on handheld cinematography and gritty imagery, this is a cinematic pseudo-anthropological study of persons residing in a world that has literally been taken off the map.  Vehemently opposed to traditions of filmmaking, Benh Zeitlin creates a world that is inhabited by those often deemed voiceless or inconsequential in film narratives.  Each character is in someway a victim of a societal oppression, whether it be gender, class, race or most importantly place of residence.  Beasts of the Southern Wild is a film about humanity in the grandest of terms that plays out with poetic magnitude and pertinent social commentary.  Furthermore, and perhaps most astonishing is the films focus on a child actor, often a risk, Zeitlin's directing and the films sincere quality help make a tricky method explode brilliantly off the screen.

The story of Beasts of the Southern Wild is the story of Hushpuppy (Quvenzhane Wallis) a young girl who lives in a flooded portion of Mississippi with the eponymous name of  The Bath.  She lives in an incredibly rural world, ruled by bartering and communal help, having only the guidance of her temper-fueled father Wink (Dwight Henry) and the random advice of her school teacher Miss Bathsheba (Gina Montana).  Told through Hushpuppy's point of view, we are shown a young woman struggling with a detachment from her mother at a very young age and a father who is slowly falling apart as a result of heart disease.  These very real problems are paralleled with Hushpuppy's visions of beasts from days of yore rising from the melting snow caps to come prey upon her and her insecurities, something she says they can sense from miles away.  While the films begins in a light-hearted manner, the realities of living off the grid begin to interfere, as Hushpuppy and her community become the point of forced intervention by health outreach programs who see their lifestyle as not only primitive, but dangerous, particularly their living in a world that is constantly threatened by flooding.  Eventually being evicted by government agents, Hushpuppy has a taste of the "civilized" world something that bothers her to such a degree that she sets out to find her mother.  After swimming a great distance she ends up in a floating dance hall/brothel where a woman who very much matches the descriptions of her father's memories.  Sharing fried gator with her she attempts to make her realize she is her daughter, however, the woman leaves without acknowledging this fact, resulting in Hushpuppy returning to the island, with the food in tow, just in time to give it to her father before he dies, resulting in one of the films most heart-wrenching scenes.  The film closes with Hushpuppy spouting words of affirmation to her life up to this point, as she leads the residents of The Bath on a march down the road, in what we as viewers can assume is their dire future, however, no fear exists on the face of this girl who has grown years in the matter of a few days.

Beasts of the Southern Wild is perhaps the most well-executed film bildungsroman since The 400 Blows, particularly in that it manages to transcend the traditional formative youth experiences in favor of something far grander philosophically speaking.  Of course, Hushpuppy does go through the traditional formative moments, whether they be forced acknowledgement of her gender, or the inevitable realization of death and these are necessary to such a narrative.  However, I would posit that the experiences in this film are far more complex and reflective than most films about children, excluding the previously mentioned Truffaut film of course.  I mean to say that Hushpuppy has a few moments of internal reflection that would cause the Buddha to be proud, most notably her acknowledgement that she is a small puzzle piece in a big puzzle, something that is simply explained but difficulty realized.  Furthermore, she comes into contact with her power as an individual when spiteful, in one scene she strikes her father in the chest out of frustration, causing his heart problems to reemerge.  She realizes in this moment that her anger out outlashes can have very serious consequences.  Furthermore, she encounters her mother, or someone similar, an experience which causes her to reflect on the value placed on a woman who, ultimately, left her alone.  This realization inspires courage and self-determination within Hushpuppy, something that allows her to stand face-to-face with the beasts that she so greatly feared, affirming her role as a leader to future generations.

Key Scene:  The movie has far to many great moments to simply pick one.

This movie is emotive and realized.  Under no circumstance should you miss checking this out whether it be in theaters or on bluray it is to be viewed immediately.

If We're Seen, We Have To Leave: The Secret World of Arriety (2010)

Studio Ghibli is essentially a flawless company that has only gained a larger global acclaim with the help of Disney and the douchy shirt wearing John Lasseter.  While the handful of anime films released by this Disney subsidiary certainly have their father company to thank it is clear that most of the credit for their success should be directed to Hayao Miyazaki, the now aging director of anime classics such as Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away.  While Miyazaki has stepped down from the directors seat he was present as a writer, and, undoubtedly, as an advisor on Studio Ghibli's most recent offering, The Secret World of Arrietty which is based off the British novel The Borrowers written by Mary Norton some sixty years earlier.  While The Secret World of Arrietty is nowhere close to Miyazaki's masterpiece Howl's Moving Castle it is a clear work of art and a solid example of the cinematic possibilities of animation, a fact that many film critics still seem hesitant to embrace.  Like many of Studio Ghibli's other offerings, The Secret World of Arrietty is both accessible, yet quite broad in its commentary and philosophical pondering, and with the exception of the work of Satoshi Kon, I have trouble thinking of another anime director who is as concerned with the simplest of details in their work.  A key animator, under the tutelage of Miyazaki, it is clear that the films director Hiromasa Yonebayashi is prepared to take the reigns for the now well-respected Studio Ghibli and I know for one that I am excited at the future prospects.

As is the case with many works tied to Miyazaki, the film concerns itself with the experiences of particularly young individuals, however, these youth are rarely offered world situations that are remotely possible in the physical realm and often rely on worlds of magic and make believe for their existence.  The Secret World of Arrietty one such film as it focuses on the life of the title character Arrietty who is, along with her mother Homily and father Pod, a Borrower.  Borrowers are miniature versions of human beings that borrow small items from humans that they can live without missing, such as thread, needles, sugar and tissue.  It is their belief that they must remain out of the sight of humans because to be spotted by humans would assure their destruction, because as Pod make clear, their curiosity would lead them to ruin the Borrower lifestyle.  Arrietty seems set to abide by these rules and looks forward to her time as Borrower, until she is spotted accidentally by a human named Shawn.  Shawn despite being very calm in his approaches, given an life-threatening heart disease, is dismissed by Arrietty who assures him that no good can come of their interactions.  Arrietty's reservations are assured when Shawn's aunt becomes obsessed with catching the Borrowers, because she has been living in seclusion for years after public mocking for her previous claims of spotting such creatures.  As such, she hires exterminators to catch the Borrowers, much to the dismay of Shawn.  Realizing the impossibilities of unity, Shawn sets out to help Arrietty and her family move from the house to a new location and luckily, the task is made considerably easier by Arrietty's father running into another borrower, who provides guidance to a new location in a more urban area of Japan.  Both Arrietty and Shawn part with sorrow in their heart, yet they realize that their summer will represent a lasting memory in their lives of something magical and sentimental.  It is heartbreaking, but in a way that reminds viewers of the possibility of good in humanity.

When I reviewed Paprika awhile back I made note of the problems technology presented to women's relationship in society.  I argued that through objectification and disconnect women were oppressed on at least a theoretical level.  When referencing this, it is interesting to discover that the worlds of not only this film, but most other Studio Ghibli films place women in a rather progressive place.  Arrietty is an independent girl who desperately desires to carve her own path in the world and clearly dismisses the notions of domesticity pushed forcefully by her mother.  This is a theme that manifests itself in other Ghibli works, most notably in Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away.  Even the males within these works diverge from gender norms, Pod is a masculine in his demeanor, but is clearly an affectionate and loving father, while Shawn is in tune with his emotional side and promotes unity over the possibility of oppressive power.  In fact, it is clear that this film, as well as others from the studio, suggest that such traditions of gender are problematic and often only reside in the minds of an older generation.  With this in mind, a character like the aunt within the film are more understandable as villains, not only does she represent someone out to destroy the Borrowers, but she also wishes to maintain traditional gender norms as well.  It is interesting as well to compare this character to say the work of Ozu, in which gender mores were propagated by an aging male figure, in many Miyazaki films the paternal oppressor is not only not present, but rarely acknowledged.  All is not perfect in these films though, as they often end with the suggestion that the characters have found some sort of heteronormative relationship to engage in, this is certainly the case in The Secret World of Arrietty, as Arrietty is shown in the closing credits accepting a gift from Spiller, a male Borrower who has shown interest in her.  Problematic for sure these images must be criticized, however, as a whole the film does question gender roles and their apparent concreteness.  It suggests a possibility for fluidity and the evolution from an older ignorant tradition.

While The Secret World of Arrietty has been out in Japan for nearly two years, it is only now completing its U.S. theatrical run and it is certainly worth checking out in theaters.  It was my first anime theatrical viewing and the fully realized world of Arriety pours off the screen beautifully.  Also, I have to agree with my girlfriend on how awesome Arriety's room is in the film.

We Have So Little Time To Say The Things We Mean: Restless (2011)

I have distinct memories of watching Gus Van Sant's Elephant a few years back before I had become heavy in film viewing and critical analysis.  Despite this I remember reacting to it with awe, because I knew it was something different as far as filmmaking goes and was completely enamored by its presence.  Little did I know that Gus Van Sant was a prolific director or that he would go on to make the Oscar favorite Milk.  Needless to say, over the years I have come to appreciate Van Sant's work, particularly those dealing with the experiences of gay individuals, most notably and perhaps powerfully in his directorial debut Mala Noche.  However, when I heard about the plot for Restless I was a bit skeptical given that it was severely deterring from the usual themes of Van Sant's work in that the film concerns a heterosexual relationship.  The film though is something captivating and magnificent and certainly representative of the cinematic nature expected from Van Sant.  It is obviously inspired by The French New Wave as well as the work of Yasujiro Ozu, yet manages to contain a flair of Van Sant's honesty and approachability.  Like so many other works released in 2011, Restless suffered from competing with excellent films, this review is here to help shine light on a film that will certainly be overlooked despite being one of the better composed films I have seen in quite some time.

Restless is a love story of sorts focusing on a young man named Enoch (Henry Hopper) as he lives his life rather indifferently, playing the part of a voyeuristic funeral crasher.  Enoch's life is quite mundane and he only makes contact with his adoptive aunt Mabel (Jane Adams) who agreed to take care of him after the death of his parents.  Aside from Mabel, Enoch's only other point of contact comes from his relationship with the ghost of a WW2 Kamikaze pilot named Hiroshi (Ryo Kase).  Enoch seems destined to exist in a rather desultory life until he runs into a young woman at one of the funerals he crashes.  The woman, dressed rather androgynous, introduces herself as Annabel Cotton (Mia Wasikowska).  Enoch realizes almost instantly that Annabel is far different from any girl he has previously met.  It is clear quite quickly, however, that her difference stems heavily from her recent diagnosis with a cancer that has given her only a handful of months left to live.  Enoch, enamored with Annabel, makes it his quest to assure that she enjoy her last days of life to their fullest and help her to experience love, even if it is only momentarily.  This endeavor, however, is not void of problems.  In the process, Enoch is forced to cope with his own emotional pain of losing his parents, as well as accepting his unhealthy fixation with death, as is evident in his relationship with a non-physical entity.  Even Annabel is forced to make realizations about her passing, specifically the acknowledgement that those around her are suffering and that her own fears cannot allow her to ignore their pain.  Ultimately, Annabel passes, and in this moment Enoch transcends his past leaving Hiroshi, in a heartwrenching scene poetically filmed, and helps Annabel prepare for death.  In the films closing shots Enoch is shown preparing to speak at Annabel's funeral as a montage of memories flicker on the screen.  Instead of speaking, Enoch simply smiles as Nico's "Fairest of the Seasons" plays through the credits.  It is sweet, subtle and sentimental, without banging the viewer over the head.

I mentioned my initial concern coming into this film given that Van Sant was clearly stepping away from his traditional focus of homosexual characters.  The film certainly is not concerned with promoting a homosexual couple, although it is good to note the films large inclusion of gay actors.  With that being said, the film is quite preoccupied with focusing on unconventional notions of love and the view such love faces in a conservative society.  This has led me to reconsider Van Sant as a director who promotes multifaceted notions of romance.  While many of his films are about love between gay characters, it seems to be now, with the inclusion of Restless to his catalog, that Van Sant simply wants to focus on the fragility of love in the face of obstacles.  These obstacles to Van Sant are not simply societal norms; they can be incredibly tangible thinks like sickness, or philosophical issues like love of country.  Each are noted directly in Restless, whether it be Enoch's constant wrestling over committing to Annabel given her impending death or Hiroshi's longing for an unnamed girl who he failed to express his love to before dying at Pearl Harbor.  Incidentally, the scene in which Hiroshi's letter is read is easily one of the most sobering moments of filmmaking I have witnessed in years.  To Van Sant the tragedy of having your heartbroken is not as great as the one of never having been able to experience love.  It helps explain the closing scene of the film in which Enoch simply smiles, because one can try to explain the grandiosity and simplicity of love through words and images, yet as the closing montage reminds viewers, it is always a personal experience and one that betters a person.

I am infatuated with this newest offering from Gus Van Sant, again it does not stack well next to some of the other movies released in 2011, yet it is still spectacular.  I cannot stress enough that a copy is well worth buying, if only for the reading of Hiroshi's letter.

The Chair Is Not Gay, Obviously: Beginners (2010)

I recall having a conversation with a friend and filmmaker who discussed the issues of many indie comedies lacking a heartbeat.  He stated that while many films were visually stunning or narratively advanced they still lacked that life that separates a good indie film from its lesser competition.  Mike Mill's critically acclaimed and extremely personal film Beginners is an movie with a steady and very apparent heartbeat.  I can foresee this film becoming a timeless classic on the study of family and self-acceptance in the face of midlife existential malaise and I am also imagining that it is going to rake in nicely at whatever awards ceremonies it is involved.  This film along with Lena Dunham's Tiny Furniture are bringing me back around to the world of independent cinema that I had ruled lost with the new millennium.  Beginners is a fresh, quirky and real study of life as one person experiences it and is a touching cinematic reminder of how fleeting a person's life can be and that they should live said life to the fullest with the fewest illusions possible.  I would be hard pressed to find a more bittersweet collage of images, than what Mill's offers in this film.

Beginners, though non-linear in its narrative, is a relatively simple story.  It begins with the thirty-eight year old Oliver (Ewan McGregor) packing the final belongings of his late fathers house.  This act alone leads him on a reflection of his own relationships with both of his deceased parents. The film, and Oliver's reflections, paint his mother Georiga (Mary Page Keller) out to be a depressed and drugged out woman whose relationship with her son and husband are distanced and meaningless, leading Georgia to act out in public to spite them both.  It would appear as though Georgia's actions are selfish and loathsome, until Oliver is told in another flashback with his aged father that he had, in fact, married Oliver's mother despite being gay.  This confession on the part of Oliver's father Hal (Christopher Plummer) leads Oliver to question everything he has understood about his life, including his own relationship with his dad.  Fortunately, for Oliver he is able to rekindle his relationship with his dying father purely out of providing support for him and accepting his lifestyle change as a desire that had lingered long before he arrived in the world.  Tragically, Hal does die and Oliver is left to clean up what remains, acts that range from dumping out his father large amount of medicine to caring for his telepathic dog.  Oliver seems content to graze through life unattached to those around him with only a dog as a companion, until he runs into a mute girl at a costume party who hits on him by writing notes.  This woman, Oliver discovers, is a French actress named Anna (Melanie Laurent) and her lack of voice is due solely to a case of laryngitis.  The two begin a head on collision of romance and therapy that leads the two down a confusing path of love and fear, which seems doomed for failure until a last minute change of heart makes Oliver realize that he cannot live his life in fear like his father did, because to do so would be to dismiss a chance a true love, even if such love is momentary.

This film is sweet and beautifully shot, but what is perhaps the most captivating element of the film is its ability to seriously deal with contemporary issues without loosing its artistic edge.  Beginners clearly has an agenda, particularly its concern with reminding viewers of the unfortunate struggles gay Americans face prior to the new millennium.  In freeze frames, Oliver reflects on notions of beauty, politics and family between two years, often using the 1950's and 1960's and a comparison to the year of 2003 in which the film is set.  Through this duality Mill's makes it quite clear that for a character like Hal to have been openly gay would have meant his public banishment and a life of solitude.  The fact, that he had to hide his own sexual desires until his last months alive are tragic and a character like Oliver helps viewers to comprehend how truly baffling such a ridiculous demand was for people living fifty years ago.  More than this though, the film is also a beautiful observation of the seemingly limitless boundaries of love.  As I noted earlier, the character of Georgia is painted rather bitterly and shown to be pathetically lost in her own world of ennui.  However, in a very touching scene Hal reminds Oliver that he loved his mother and she loved him, their being together was an act of friendship and loyalty.  She know of Hal's sexual preference, but agreed to marry him regardless, because she knew the social consequences if he were to remain unmarried.  This moment helps Oliver to comprehend much of his confused youth and he grows to respect his mother, as well as the obstacles his father continued to face even in his dying days.  Oliver also comes to realize that he cannot expect happiness to emerge through finding his father love, but instead in supporting his decisions while searching for his own source of happiness, a feat that appears to happen in the films closing shot.

This movie is magical and heartbreaking.  I am standing behind this as one of the best films in this award season and cannot recommend it enough.  Buy a copy and share it with those you care about.