Ban The Bomb And Do The Fuck All For A Living: Quadrophenia (1979)

The musical this month has proven to be rather traditional, even when considering the various post-genre films I tackled, the music component was set aside and separated as part of the narrative.  Indeed, the only other examples where defining the work as a musical might have proven to be a bit of a stretch would be Saturday Night Fever, but since it is so integral to the space of the film the labeling of it as such is necessary.  In contrast, but no less pertinent to the inclusion this month is the The Who inspired, mod-fashion donning Quadrophenia which is about as cool a youth in revolt film as a person could ever hope to encounter.   I decided to include it this month on the marathon of musicals primarily, because I wanted to find and excuse to finally view the film, but also because I wanted to look at work whose musical component played equal parts to the narrative, wherein each choice musically is an extension of the ideas and emotions of the characters on screen.  While this is not a common occurrence in cinema--excluding melodramatic elements--it has happened before, most notably with the films The Harder They Come and Amadeus.  I will say though, in the previously mentioned works, the music is clearly distinguished from the narrative, even in the sense that it is integral to its working, nothing exists quite like Quadrophenia, wherein the music is as much the heartbeat and thriving of the film, as are the wide-eyed but decidedly world weary faces of the characters in the film.  If the punk movement was already meeting its demise in Britain at the time and the working class came to grips with a lost socialist utopian ideal, Quadrophenia might well be the single most evocative and focused work on the various aftermath of such social decay.  Nobody in the film appears to have any sense of direction or guidance, wandering aimlessly through the film as the wailing of Roger Daltrey attempts to bring guidance like a prophet who is simply too ahead of his time.  To any other film, music would be a component that helps make the film work or fail, however, in Quadrophenia it is the film.

Quadrophenia focuses on the trials and tribulations of Jimmy (Phil Daniels) a young mod rocker, whose attachment to his working class identity, is in contrast with his hope to make it as a big name in the magazine industry, although he currently fails to rise above the role of mail clerk, instead seeking his escape through the use of pills, notably blues, which he attains from other members of his motorcycle riding crew.  Hoping to make some sense of his life, Jimmy navigates the world of London in a pill-induced fever dream, attempting to make passes at the girls he sees in clubs, while continually passing along his drugs to those around him, each escaping from their own communities, whether it be the drug dealing Jamaican immigrant Spider (Gary Shail) or the equally disillusioned love interest to Jimmy, Steph (Phil Daniels).  The constant late night boozing and partying on the part of Jimmy leads to constant condemnation by his suspicious parents, only finding minimal solace when he and his Father (Michael Elphick) share a joking--albeit telling--conversation about the nature of his musical tastes and particular adoration for the work of The Who.  When, Jimmy and his bike gang come to odds with the members of another rival group, led by the popular and notably attractive Ace Face (Sting) a heavy amount of rioting breaks out that involves destructing some of downtown London and leads to Jimmy becoming a troublesome figure to the police, which is only exacerbated by his recent breaking into a pharmacy to attain money and a large amount of pills, which he uses like candy.  When Jimmy eventually loses his job, he too loses any sense of his identity and when he can no longer keep the affections of Steph, who has now begun a relationship with another of Jimmy's friends, the lone young man takes to his motorbike and traverses the white cliffs of dover, yelling and screaming in frustration as he constantly looks over the cliff.  In the closing moments of the film, Jimmy careens his bike towards the cliff, in apparent suicide, however the last shot is solely of a destroyed bike and nothing more, the whereabouts of Jimmy remaining unknown.

I mentioned the way in which music works within this film, while it almost entirely exists within a space of the non-diegetic, there is one instance where Jimmy and a rival youth are enjoying a bath at a local bathhouse.  The two in separate rooms begin singing respective rock ballads of the time, constantly raising their voice and rhthym to overpower the other, despite the contestation of the other persons at the establishment.  While the singing starts off as a childish game of singing, it eventually takes on a violent degree as the two climb over the dividers and begin a fist fight.  It is the confrontational element that speaks to what is occurring within Quadrophenia and its use of music.  Either by juxtaposition or pure adrenaline, the music in the film serves as a means to extend the idea of youth as frustrated and confused, manifested most evidently by The Who's "Love Reign O'er Me" which is used in three sections of the film, all with different outcomes contingent on the point in Jimmy's evolution of the character.  In the first shots of the film, a line of it is used in a sort of medley with the other songs of the film, establishing the figure in relation to the youth.  The second sequence the song is used in a more ironic context, as Jimmy and his pals are cruising about London, attaching a sort of unknowing quest for the homosocial bond, while also accepting that such pursuing of desire meets with violent results in this young culture bent on revolt and some bizarre form of conformist anarchy.  Finally, when Jimmy has all but lost his entire social status and by extension his self-identity, the song plays a far more evocative and decidedly synchronous relation to the film, while images of Jimmy staring through a glass window with a reflection of a pier occur with the swelling of the intro music to the film, his driving on the cliffs juxtapose the ultimate lines of love and desire refreshment and healing through the cool rain.  Here the music is almost a requirement and demands that the viewer understand youth culture in a layered and intersecting dialogue at once part of many things, but always personal to the individual in the moment.

Key Scene: We are. We are. We are the mods.

The Criterion bluray for the film is crisp and vibrant and the audio of The Who songs makes it all the more wonderful.

I Must Remember This Feeling And Use It In My Acting: Fame (1980)

Grandstanding and bombastic line delivery seem almost too inextricably tied to the musical to be a thing that I find issue with.  However, this is an attachment that almost exclusively works in the context of Classical Hollywood musicals and becomes less necessary the farther into contemporary film one gets.  More so, when a film clearly makes it a point to embrace a low-budget, intimate look at a inner-city life one ravished with poverty and immobility the grandstanding can become somewhat more troublesome.  Fame, the cult musical from Alan Parker does suffer considerably from this very over-the-top nature, but in some ways it is rather acceptable considering that it intends to look at a space where people are constantly performing for the sake of self-identity as well as for their future livelihood.  Fame works in some was primarily because it takes no shame in going big with its ideas, while juxtaposing them against the stripped away veneer of a rundown, but, undoubtedly, prestigious fine arts school. Indeed, while it does possess enough musical numbers to warrant it being placed within the genre, it far more something in line with the coming of age tale, wherein, a group of awkward kids come to learn about sex, lies and the trouble of access in a harsh world.  This sort of scathing look at growing up would appear ill-conceived and somewhat troublesome, but it manages to approach the issues with some degree of earnestness, only going too far on a few occasions, allowing for characters to exist in nearly possible moments only to allow their character to take on narrative layering.  Indeed, while the film does clock in at over two hours, it still feels as though it is missing some elements, almost as though characters backstories were cut out in favor of focusing on two singular experiences making certain portions come off as slightly exploitative.  While not completely unwatchable and certainly better than some of the musicals I have encountered this month, Fame, nonetheless, does become underwhelming during its closing sequence one that is assumed to carry a heavy emotional investment, but like its cutting to credits merely stops not attaining anything deserved of next level film admiration.

Fame focuses rather sporadically, albeit in a linear fashion, on the experiences of a group of students attending the New York High School for the Performing Arts, first beginning with auditions, where the various instructors of dance, theater and music are subjected to both profoundly moving and outright awful performances, while also establishing the importance of various characters, whether it be the accidental dancer Leroy (Gene Anthony Ray) or synth rock prodigy Bruno (Lee Curreri) and his expansive keyboard set up.  The students all begin by claiming their desires to be in the unique setting, many noting their particular financial limitations.  As the narrative moves into Freshman year the narrative focuses in on the experiences of two students in particular, the wide-eyed and constantly evolving Doris (Maureen Teefy) and South Bronx native turned aspiring stand-up comedian Ralph (Barry Miller).  While they do possess a mutual friend in Montgomery (Paul McCrane) his own struggles with embracing his homosexual identity lead to him stepping away from the narrative.  As the students move through Sophomore and Junior years, Leroy is confronted with a classroom setting where his lower class, black identity becomes a thing of confusion and fear for his English teacher, who finds it necessary to constantly bemoan his indifference in class, even calling him out for his inability to read at one point in time.  Bruno comes under fire by his orchestra teacher Mr. Shorofsky (Albert Hague) for a disagreement on the nature of Mozart in a contemporary setting and Doris and Ralph, after an initial romantic fling, have a falling out when Ralph's drinking and unhealthy bar life become a thing of trouble.  Other members of the school both current and former come to discover the ways in which the industry, particularly, acting on screen proves limiting and threatening, particularly for one young girl named Coco (Irene Cara) whose foolish belief that she could star in European art house films is quickly shattered when she attends a screen test.  However, upon graduation it appears as though all has come to fruition even in insane contexts, allowing the entirety of the class to somberly and sentimentally reflect on their past and look forward into the future.

The sort of brevity and briefness of most encounters in the film is decidedly frustrating.  I respect the film for attempting to navigate a rater wide scope of identities within the space of the performing arts, but it also does so with such faint brush strokes as to give off an heir of essentialism, wherein Leroy and his own struggles to move out of severe poverty speak to all identities within the urban African-American community, just as Montgomery comes to reflect the entirety of gay culture in what is essentially a monologue about said identity.  Fame seeks in what appears to be earnestness to tackle these issues, without realizing that a mere mention is often far more fatal than an actual singular focus.  Sure it is great that the film wants to paint such a complete picture, but it also means a complete loss in depth to the film, which helps to explain my earlier complaint that by the closing of the film the resolution carries little to no emotional investment because there is nothing within which for the viewer to ground their experience.  Sure Montgomery is relatable, but his portion of the film accounts for maybe two percent of the narrative and aside from the overplayed moment of Leroy struggling to read next to a fire barrel under a bridge nothing affords the viewer a reason to relate to him, instead only being able to pull from his confrontational attitude in other moments throughout the film.  Interstingly, the film almost seems to lean on the power of the teachers in the film, whether it be Leeroy's stern English teacher, who appears to receive more narrative leeway than the homeless Leroy, or the manner with which the stuffy Mr. Shorofsky still proves to be "correct" about the nature of classical music, despite completely rejecting the possibility that Bruno's music could attain any success, an assumption that is negated by the success of Coco and Bruno when performing.  If any figure actually achieves respect that is not a student it comes in the way of Bruno's father Angelo (Eddie Barth) who is wholly supportive of his son's musical aspirations both emotionally and financially, although this is even tenuous as he constantly calls attention to his sacrifice.  It is a film that wants so desperately to show the layers and varieties of struggling that it is at once spread too far and too thin to prove evocative.

Key Scene:  The construction of the scene when Ralph reflects on his violent father in the neon-light lit apartment is poetic and while the acting and narrative might be a bit lacking, it is washed over with the soft red in such a way to allow it to be decidedly moving.

This is easily a rental option, although it might be more worth your time to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show which is actually shown at considerable length during one sequence.

Sometimes I Feel Like A Human Sacrifice: New York Stories (1989)

The anthology film has become a thing to expect in contemporary cinema, a means within which to bridge the gap between loose genre ideas or to create a feeling of a global community discussing the rhetoric of a singular idea, such as love, loss or happiness.  Even the other omnibus works, such as Paris Je T'aime suffer from a heavy sense of knowing that this work is offered within a collection of larger statements, therefore, unjustly affording filmmakers a belief that they do not really have to try and offer anything of worthy cinematic consideration.  This is by far not the case when concerning New York Stories, a set of three featurettes by three directors whose identities are more or less inextricably tied to the city.  What makes this anthology work particularly fascinating is that the products of two out of three of the filmmakers are some of their best work in rather storied and well-regarded careers, and the third while clearly the weakest in the collection, nonetheless lays out what cinephiles would come to expect from a second generation filmmaker and writer in one of cinemas most well-respected families.  Where as other city film anthologies use the space of the movie to wax poetic about the serene and sentimental experiences of the spaces they occupy, New York Stories exists in  world about New York that paints it both with endearing pride, while also making note of all the ways it is a city of struggles, failures and lack.  Two out of the three works exist in a state of magical realism, nonetheless, playing upon the tropes of New York, where as the other manages to pinpoint into a singular narrative of a man and woman "in love," perhaps even extending into its own consideration of the relationship between New York and New Yorker.  I say all of this having only spent a couple of hours in New York as a teenager, not really understanding a bit about its spaces or the bodies which occupy its vast area.  Instead, what I posit is that New York Stories works for all moviegoers because through the intimacy of the subject matter, passion emerges, so much so that it becomes a text book look at New York, the entity, without ever being pretentious or calling attention to many viewers outsider status.

Split into three distinctly different narratives, the first film directed by Martin Scorsese is title Life Lessons and focuses on action painter Lionel (Nick Nolte) who is panicking for his upcoming studio exhibit, much to the chagrin of his agent  Lionel, while allegedly capable of throwing together a show at a moments notice is, nonetheless, anxiously awaiting the return of his assistant and lover Paulette (Rosanna Arquette).  Upon her return Paulette explains that she no longer wants to be involved with Lionel and has indeed just ended a tumultuous relationship with performance artist Gregory Stark (Steve Buscemi).  Flailing to assert his authority, Lionel plays a game of cat and mouse with Paulette, using his power as an artistic giant to convince her to stay and hone her craft in his studio.  However, it becomes clear that Lionel is only interested in using her sexually, leading to her eventually packing her things and leaving, an act that leads Lionel to complete his Bridge to Nowhere painting and mirroring this metaphor with his immediately moving on to a new ingenue during his exhibit opening.  The second film Life Without Zoe, is directed by Francis Ford Coppola and co-written by his daughter Sofia Coppola.  Wherein a young girl named Zoe (Heather McComb) talks in roundabout fairy tales as a way to analyze the troublesome relationship between her parents flautist Claudio (Giancarlo Giannini)  and wife Charlotte (Talia Shire), as well as commenting upon the feelings of alienation which emerge for her parents constantly being away.  In a decidedly child as adult feel evident in later Sofia Coppola work, the film looks at Zoe's attempts to act in the hyper-adult, only able to do so through excessive wealth.  In the end, however, Zoe realizes that sometimes a momentary feeling of unity with one's family is far more valuable than anything money could hope to buy.  The final segment is Woody Allen's Oedipus Wrecks which focuses on Sheldon (Woody Allen) an established attorney with a loving girlfriend named Lisa (Mia Farrow).  Despite success and love, Sheldon cannot shake the condemnation he constantly faces by his mother, played by Mae Questel.  It is during an "unfortunate" accident at a magic show that Sheldon's mother disappears inexplicably, leading to a momentary feeling of freedom by Sheldon, improving his sex life, while allowing him the freedom to excel at his job in new ways.  However, when his mother emerges as a floating entity in the sky line of New York things change drastically and Sheldon's feelings of oppression blow up to a grandiose proportion.  It is indeed not until he finds a new girlfriend appropriate to his mother's strict demands that her presence no longer becomes omniscient, or at least less blatantly so as the closing moments of the film might suggest.

The fascinating thing about this particular anthology is that aside from auteurist elements present within each film, one could find themselves hard-pressed to claim a thematic link between the three separate stories.  Indeed, aside from the psychoanalytic nightmare that is traditional Woody Allen filmmaking from the era, these seem like, as noted earlier, statements on existing within New York, more so that individual films about a city.  For Scorsese, the issue at hand is how one "performs" the New York lifestyle, particularly one like the New York art world which predicates itself upon a certain pomp and circumstance where struggle is embraced, but not something that should be affirmed physically.  Take the distinct difference between Lionel and Paulette for example, he is well off given his status in high art and can afford to drunkenly feign trouble, whereas Paulette's gender and other issues legitimize her struggle and also do not allow her the privilege to simply perform any degree of abjection.  Coppola's film then becomes about the issue of learning class privilege in the space of New York, it is fitting that Sofia helped write this script, because it lends a layer of credibility to how she would have seen the world as a youth, attempting to rationalize the decadence of her youth with the bustling reality of New York, one where hands literally extend from the trash to beg for food, while she can purchase absurd amounts of food, jewelry and even alcohol despite being admittedly too young to understand how credit works.  The robbery in the film takes on a wonderful layer of class conflict, as does the closing moment in Rome become a moment of scathing irony, which would become a staple of Sofia Coppola's oeuvre (it would be fascinating, in fact, to stand this film up against Marie Antoinette).  With these two films in mind, Oedipus Wrecks then considers the nature of constant looking and watching that occurs within New York, to Allen, New York in all its wonder is also a place where every action is scrutinized, because space is limited and filled with many bodies, all with stories and opinions, some more willing to share than others.  Always the existentialist, the film considers what distinction could possibly emerge between Sheldon's singular struggles and the larger struggles of society.  Perhaps it is all inherently meaningless and Sheldon is merely overreacting, what Allen does show is that, in the end, some encounters are simply unavoidable.

Key Scene: Woody Allen steals the show here and Sheldon's smirk when his mother is "being stabbed" will make you laugh.

The bluray for this is surprisingly cheap, but should in no way suggest a lesser product.  In fact, this is probably one of the more overlooked works from the year.

Who Is The Drug Dealer? Your Or Me?: Red Hook Summer (2012)

Here I come again as the seeming sole defender of the films offered by Spike Lee, while he is certainly not void of some less than stellar films, it appears as though his antics detached from filmmaking prove so off-putting that people purposefully avoid his films and even actively advocate against them without even viewing their entirety.  Now to be fair, Lee helmed a campaign against Django Unchained and its latent racism, without of course viewing the film, so in this aspect he cannot be saved.  Yet the people who dismiss Lee assuming that he has completely moved away from the cinematic reflection and activisim latent in his earlier works are the individuals I hope to inspire to pursue a viewing of this film, because while it is certainly not on the level of Do The Right Thing (my favorite film ever), it manages to touch upon some of its themes and tropes and certainly does not shy away from suggesting that film is a follow-up to the world of Lee's seminal classic, going so far as to incorporate a tragically older, yet equally ill-guided Mookie, played off course by the much older Lee.  Another surprise with this vision of Lee's New York is how admittedly it lacks a black influence, the music in the film is not fueled by political activist oriented rap groups like Public Enemy, but the smoother and more melodic offerings of indie folk music and a heavy dose of world music, not to mention a ton of gospel songs.  While one could read this as Lee's consideration of the role of religion in a technologically oriented younger black community that is only a very thin veil in the larger picture.  While I am not sure of Lee's entire intent as it relates to this film, but it is clear that he seems to be drawing from his own life, particularly in that the main character is a burgeoning filmmaker struggling to form his craft, as well as his identity.  Lee takes a considerable amount of risk with this film, some of them are pulled off with great zeal, particularly the choice to go with a low budget cinematic style, while others are a bit iffy, mostly the varied acting of the film's child actors.  Regardless, this film, despite its dismissal proves to be one of Lee's most successful and engaging films since Do The Right Thing and some of its moments of internal struggle within characters have me quite excited about this remake of Oldboy coming out sometime this year.

Red Hook Summer focuses on the travel of Flik (Jules Brown) to Red Hook in New York as he is scheduled to spend the summer with his preacher grandfather Enoch Rouse (Clarke Peters), whose admittedly "old school" and demands that Flik constantly consider his own relationship with salvation via Jesus Christ.  Flik, coming from the well-to-do upper middle class world of Atlanta, rejects the simplicity and uneducated world of Enoch, arguing the hypocrisies and contradictions within religion, while also continuing with his attachment to technology.  It is instead through a burgeoning relationship with another girl from Red Hook closer to his age named Chazz (Toni Lysaith) that Flick seems to find an evolving dialogue on both his identity and the issues raised within church contradictions. Of course, like some of Lee's other films, the world of Red Hook is not occupied by a few characters, but instead a constant deluge of varied persons whose affects either progress or digress Flik's evolution, in some cases a character does both.  Perhaps the most relevant secondary character in Flik's journey comes via Deacon Zee, an elderly drunkard whose diatribes on the state of the economy and African-American's own  failure to engage with the monetary woes of a nation, both suggest a call for action politically, while also deconstructing the "woe is me" attitude blatant in Zee's lifestyle.  Yet, it is Zee who helps Flik and Chazz out of trouble when accused of eating food that belongs to the church's Sunday School program.  Of course, the largest matter in the narrative proves to be Flik's problematic relationship with Enoch who becomes more and more demanding that he seek salvation, yet when it is revealed that Enoch suffers from the guilt of a terrible act earlier in his life, it is Flik who provides forgiveness and understanding, while a majority of the community shuns Enoch for his past indiscretions, an issue which he has dealt with emotionally, spiritually and even physically.  In the end, Flik returns home from a summer of unexpected learning and evolution, in which he has met a broken man attempting to turn his life around, as well as a young and burgeoning romantic friendship that helps remind him that his struggle for identity is far from singular.

I cannot deny the role that religion plays into Lee's narrative, it is of course a piece engaged within black cinema, in which spirituality and salvation are prominent tropes.  Yet, Lee is quick to villify certain aspects of religion, particularly its problematic influence via money, as well as the means with which individuals will exploit those with lesser power under the guise of scriptural evidence.  This considered, I would argue that Lee's film is far more concerned with dealing with guilt and its affects on generations.  Enoch clearly suffers for his terrible action, but at no point seems to justify its occurrence, even when he is beaten to a pulp by a group of local thugs and called Satan to his face by a fellow pastor.  Enoch is fully aware of his actions affects on one man's loss of faith and decides not to dwell on his wrongdoings, but instead, attempts to save the faith of the individuals he encounters in the future.  While the given information causes viewers to instantly question his relationship with Flik it is clear that he serves only as a paternal figure, one who wants to provide guidance for a child who has lost his father to the war in Afghanistan, a timely political message that reminds me of how socially conscious Lee can be when focused.  In fact, I would argue that even with his past brought forward that Enoch serves as a better role model for Flick than many of the individuals he encounters throughout the rest of the narrative, whether they be is somewhat distancing mother, the drunken Deacon Zee or the handful of white characters whose presents is either a means of guilt-oriented outreach or profit oriented gentrification.  The world of Red Hook Summer, much like that of Do The Right Thing exists in a simulacrum of urban minority experiences, yet where his earlier film focused on the trouble of a communities inability to "do the right thing," this film, in a surprisingly reflective moment by Lee asks viewers to consider how they navigate their own life, especially if they are struggling with having chosen to do the wrong thing in the past.

Key Scene: While all of Enoch's sermons prove vibrant and profusely cinematic, it is the grainy closing shots of the film that one can assume come from Flik's Ipad filming that really add resonance to the film and make it well worth watching and reflecting upon.

This film, more so than anything else out this year, needs to be reconsidered.  I am appalled by how dismissed this film has become and suggest you drop everything you are doing to watch it on Netflix immediately.

If You're Gonna Lead People, You Gotta Have Somewhere To Go: Rumble Fish (1983)

I am starting to consider the very real possibility that Coppola's best work occurred, while he was adapting S.E. Hinton novels to the screen.  Of course The Outsider's is a bit moderate and youthful, a far cry from his works like Apocalypse now which are considerably hyper-violent.  However, Rumble Fish, his work, also an adaptation of a Hinton work of the same name, throws out some of this youthful safety in favor of a brutally honest, yet cinematically poetic film, filled with an exceptionally large amount of rising stars and individuals who would become big name actors, even a few finding work still today.  Not to mention an awesome cameo, of sorts, by Tom Waits, in what may well be his best performance.  It is clear in this film that Coppola is reaching far back into something profoundly sentimental, providing a film that is as experimental as it is a twisted romansbildung.  Imagine a film with all the youthful bliss of The Outsiders, plus the gang oriented narrative of West Side Story, minus the pesky singing and dancing and you might be able to construct a very cursory understanding of what is offered in Rumble Fish, but even then you would still have to add the art house flair of early Scorsese, a healthy dose of Italain Neo-realism and an undeniable splash of Fellini to even begin to understand the complexities of this film.  I often wondered, when, if ever, Sophia Coppola drew inspiration from her father's work and I can say with some certainty that it likely occurred with Rumble Fish, indicative of its near ethereal nature, as well as her presence in the film playing one of the younger  characters.  It is interesting to pair this simulacrum of a urban landscape occupied by disillusioned youth with any of the later 80's youth films in its refusal to deal with ennui and the awkwardness of growing up via hip New Wave music and witty cynicism.  The world of Rumble Fish is tragic from the on set and even when you think nothing can possibly get worse, the characters engaging in this colorless world manage to fall further into the abyss.

Rumble Fish focuses primarily on the experiences of Rusty James (Matt Dillon) a rebellious young man who fancies himself the leader of a local gang, despite a self-acknowledged lack of smarts and quick wit, Rusty uses his brawn a bit to eagerly to get his way.  Amongst this group include the quick affirming Smokey (Nicolas Cage), the bookish Steve (Vincent Spano), the heavy set bully B.J. (Chris Penn) and the anything but short Midget (Laurence Fishburne).  Along with this group who take up passive gang activities, Rusty also vies for the affections of a local girl, who goes to a private school outside the city named Patty (Diane Lane).  It is during one night of fighting with a rival gang of pill poppers that Rusty takes a shard of glass to the stomach, resulting in his being rescued by The Motorcycle Boy (Mickey Rourke) who is the older brother of Rusty and a sort of local legend, as he was able to leave the city, only to return much to everyone's surpass, notably the police force who have it out for the motorcycle riding utlracool man.  The emergence of his brother, causes Rusty to question his place, especially after the revelation that during his time in California, Motorcycle boy met their mother, a figure long lost from their youth, only to be replaced by their alcoholic and incapable Father (Dennis Hopper).  Much of the narrative evolves to focus on Rusty's contentions with staying in school, ultimately, quashed when he is suspended, as well as attempting to win back Patty after being unfaithful at a beach party.  However, nothing proves more central to the narrative than Rusty's desires to live like his brother, literally following in his shadow throughout the film an act that has considerably cataclysmic results and provide for a magnificently cinematic and tragically poignant closing moment in the film, suggesting a rather unfortunate cycle of future events not much different than those occurring throughout Rumble Fish.

A series of unconventional opening shots, at least in regards to Coppola, display a skyline of a nondescript city as clouds roll past at a unusually fast speed.  This evasive world sets the stage for a narrative of entrapment and desired escapism as it relates to Rumble Fish, one in which the city proves oppressive to all those within its limits.  Many characters seek escape through literal means, as is certainly the case with Patty who travels by bus to go to a private school, while others like Father use alcohol as a self-escape by nightly intoxication.  Yet, the literal escape only occurs for The Motorcycle Boy, who becomes a character within a revisioning of Plato's Allegory of the Cave in that he so deeply desires to explain to other what he has seen in California and how they too can witness those things, yet his language cannot occur in a way to explain it to the cities occupants, most importantly Rusty, who admits to his lack of vocabulary.   The Motorcycle Boy has seen another part of the world and returning to the city causes him to spiral into a noticeable depression, one that leads to a considerably desultory lifestyle, engaged with heroin addicts and aimless wandering through pet stores.  In a moment of brilliance on the part of Hinton/Coppola, Rusty compares Motorcycle Boy to The Pied Piper suggesting that people are willing to follow him wherever he leads them, yet Motorcycle Boy admits that he has no clue where he is going, although I would suggest it is more a lack of possessing the means to explain the world outside of the black and white barriers of the city, lending to his preoccupation with the fish the only thing of color within the entire film, which when considering the Allegory of the Cave element to this film, certainly do not lack a metaphorical element.  Ultimately, Motorcycle Boy realizes he failed to share this outside world with anyone and martyrs himself with the hope that Rusty can take up the torch and if the closing shot of the film is any suggestion, it has a possibility, although it will prove considerably exhaustive.  Also apparently there is some reference to Camus via The Motorcycle Boy, which I did not pick up on but certainly plan to explore later.

Key Scene:  While it is not the most cinematic moment of the film, the initial fight scene between Rusty and another gang leader sets the stage for the remainder of Rumble Fish and welcomes viewers to a world that is transcendent of any traditional logic or conceptualization.

This movie is glorious, at the moment only a DVD copy exists.  I hope a Bluray copy is in the works and plan to wait until it is released to purchase a copy.  Until then it is offered as a Watch Instantly option on Netflix.

It Suits You, But It's Not Right For Us: Through The Olive Trees (1994)

Abbas Kiarostami is not unfamiliar to this blog some months ago I heavily praised his work Close-Up as being not only an absolutely cinematic and politically intense work but a means to better represent exactly what I feel cinema can provide as a sort of simulacrum and recreation of our own historical and cultural understandings.  It should be no surprise then that his film from four years later Through The Olive Trees manages to provide a similar sense of metacinema that is not only referential to other moments in cinematic history as well as its own historical relevance, but too is  means to better understand our own performances within moments, particularly when those moments are clouded by disaster, loss and coming to age much quicker than planned.  While I am by no means an expert on Iranian history, nor their culture, I would venture to say that the means by which tragedy influences the film, would be similar to a filmmaker making a film about making a film about 9/11...if any of the makes sense, probably not though.  To follow the work of Kiarostami one must inherently be willing to deconstruct their notions of traditional narrative, as well as cinematic spaces, particularly when it comes to question what amount of honesty and validity can arise from a cinematic moment, one that is constantly changing and influenced by a multitude of off screen factors, whether they be something as minor as the misplacement of props or something much larger, as is the case with unrequited love in this film.  Furthermore, given the rather problematic construction of the Middle East that has been created with the Western, particularly American, rhetoric one could find themselves assuming that an Iranian film would be cultural insensitive, sexually oppressive and negative on a large scale.  However the work of Kiarostami, and from what I understand is the case for most Iranian filmmakers, they manage to remind viewers that for a very large portion of the Iranian people war and politics are just as unwelcome and corrupt as they are in the states and it is their government preventing them from speaking against these injustices, not matter how brilliantly they manage to do so within a filmic setting.

As was the case in Close-Up the line between actor and character are often blurred, something that is engaged with from the films beginning when we are shown the actor Mohamad Ali Keshavarz, who plays a director within the film, explaining that he will be going to a girls school to cast the role of a young girl within Kiarostami's film, making it as much a moment of documentary filmmaking as it is the actual narrative.  While this is the only moment of direct breaking of the fourth wall, the films other main character of sorts Hossein is played by a young man named Hossein Rezai, causing the lines between reality and fiction to further blur.  What one is able to draw from the hybrid of fact and fiction is that Hossein has given up his life as a mason worker with the hopes of becoming an actor, a dream that has been pushed healthily forward by being cast in a leading role by the director from the beginning of the film.  A problem emerges, however, when the role of lead female is given to a neighborhood girl named Tahereh (Tahereh Ladanian) of whom Hossein has attempted on countless times to court.  Despite having lost both her parents in an earthquake, an event that evades every conversation in the film, her grandmother a conservative refuses to grant Hossein's requests for marriage, despite her daughters liking him, stating that he is both illiterate and does not have a house for them to live in upon marriage.  Hossein is not stupid and realizes she is just being elitist, noting that most newlyweds do not have homes, and that if so desired he would take up masonry, yet again, solely to provided them with a private domestic space.  While it is hard to tell, Tahereh does take a liking to Hossein within their repeated performance of a scene in which Hossein is to find his shoes, eventually ending the day of shooting.  While the adult crew bickers over issues of moving equipment Tahereh begins walking home only to eventually be followed home by Hossein and in what is a moment of absolute cinematic magic, we are given an extremely long distance shot of Tahereh finally answering Hossein about marriage.  We are left to wonder about her answer as the young man runs back across a green field.

There could be countless books written on not only the state of metacinema, but the director Abbas Kiarostami as well.  In fact, I may make it a goal of mine to read at least one book of criticism on this director while on Christmas break, as I imagine it will have a profound effect on my understanding of cinema as a larger concept.  Yet this is not the topic I want to discuss when concerning oneself with Through the Olive Trees.  Instead I find it to be a film incredibly influenced by what role tragedy and loss has upon youthful bliss and ignorance.  As mentioned, an earthquake which occurred a few years prior in Iran evades every moment of the film and is, in fact, mentioned in many of the meta scenes filmed within the film.  We, as viewers, are led to believe that whole families were lost within the disaster leaving a variety of dismantled and broken homes, both literally and figuratively.  As such, many, if not all of the youth and children within this film seem to exist in an uncomfortable space where they are required to dismiss their youthful bliss in the face of forced roles in adulthood.  This certainly holds true for the two young boys bringing flowers and plants to the filming set whose looks of loss and confusion cannot be ignored.  Furthermore, it invariably affects the means and manner of how Hossein woos Tahereh, in that much of his rhetoric is surrounded by offering a safe domestic space in which they can be their own family and create their own home for the future.  Nothing in his talks suggests youthful love and blind ambition, yet the head over heals nature of his approaches to winning Tahereh certainly do, particularly when he follows her in a near stalker manner begging for her hand.  In the end it appears as though the two young people are provided with a fragile and beautiful moment of young happiness, or at least that is what I like to imagine in the film closing moments, if not it will go down as one of the saddest endings in cinematic history.

Key Scene:  There are a few car scenes with a POV camera that are still fresh and unique to watch despite having been overused since their introduction in this film.

I want to say that buying this film is a no brainer...tragically there is not film version to watch.  However, there is a version of it available on youtube that is of decent quality.  You may want to check it out before it inevitably disappears.

Is This Like A Noxzema Commerical, Or What?: Clueless (1995)

Satire, at least filmically speaking, is somewhat a difficult thing to pull off, particularly if a director even cares about the validity and pertinence of said satire.  This is further problematized when an individual attempts to adapt a classic piece of literature in to a film satire, particularly when the film is centuries older than the novel from which it draws its inspiration.  Fortunately, in the hands of Amy Heckerling, a film like Clueless, despite its rather dated cultural references and definitely nineties look, is a pitch perfect satire.    From the opening use of "Kids In America," to the use of sped up camera shots to emphasize time lapse, Clueless captures the plummeting sense of morality and absurd degree of ennui that consumed the youth of mid-90's America, particularly those with an insurmountable amount of wealth and hardly any concern for the larger picture of the world in which they existed.   An easily quotable film, it is clear to see why Clueless has accrued a respectable degree of cult status over the years, and while I was uncertain about my girlfriend's initial insistence of watching the film managed to find myself coming around to its brilliance in a matter of moments.  This is also a film filled with what seems like an unending array of cameos, although considering the date of its release, perhaps the only actual cameo in the film is that of Wallace Shawn who was by then a well established actor.  Clueless, as a satire, manages to exist in a world of absurdism that has viewers both considering the implausibility of what is being portrayed, as well as the off chance that somewhere, somehow this is a tragically real existence, one that makes you want to bang your head against the wall for having acknowledged.  However, despite a somewhat roundabout plot, Clueless is quite excellent to view and manages to make, at least backhandedly, some statement about finding self-identity in a culturally vapid society, as well as the values of friendship with respectable and varied individuals...or it could just be a huge comedy, either route is fine by me.

Clueless centers on the less than troubling life of Cher (Alicia Silverstone), who along with her friend Dionne (Stacey Dash) roam the halls of their profusely wealthy high school exuding their clear popularity and somewhat less clear sense of fashion.  Cher struggles with her grades, as she attempts to navigate the waters of a home life which witnesses her taking care of her busy lawyer father Mel (Dan Hedeya) in replacement of her late mother, as well as forming a bond with her pseudo-stepbrother Josh (Paul Rudd).  Cher's life seems exceptionally lackadaisical, until the emergence of a new grunged out girl named Tai (Brittany Murphy) allows for a project in refashioning for her, and along with the help of Dionne the two make Tai into a thing of pride, despite her clear attachments to a grunge lifestyle and one of the schools skateboarder potheads Travis (Breckin Meyer).  Similarly, Cher find herself falling hard for a new student, and Luke Perry look-alike, named Christian (Justin Walker).  While Christian certainly appears to take a liking to Cher it is clear that Christian has no sexual desires towards her and would rather spend time watching Tony Curtis films and shopping.  Once it is brought to Cher's attention that Christian is clearly gay, the two rekindle a strict friendship, while she comes to grips with her own identity something that is further drawn into question when she notes Tai taking a particular interest in Josh.  Upset at first because she is so close with Josh, Cher eventually realizes that her attachment to her Dad's ex-wife's son is far more than just platonic and the two share a kiss of longing in the films closing moments, before they all attend a wedding for a pair of teachers they fixed up in the films opening scenes.  Did I mention the film is based off of Jane Austen's Emma, if not it should be considerably obvious...what with all the insta-romances and out of the blue weddings.

There is a clear criticism to be formulated as it relates to Clueless, however, it is entrenched in some sort of Marxist-philosophical-psychological level that I am simply not equipped to speak about at this time.  Instead, I want to conjecture as to why the film has managed to not only find success upon initial release, but why it has further lasted some seventeen years later.  First off, the film takes a very critical, look at the generation we have become considerably nostalgic about in times of economic woe.  Clueless manages to confront the issues of wealth and conspicuous consumption abrasively, without completely ridiculing the individuals in the film for enjoying success...or their parents success to be more precise.  Yet the youth in this film are not completely void of value, sure they spend heavily, recreationally use drugs and are profusely vain, but they too are existing in what was arguably a scary time in American history, considering the images of Bosnia and middle eastern conflict that filled the screen, something directly commented upon in the film.  Of course, it takes some degree of effort to get person's like Cher to acknowledge this tragedy and undertake organized efforts to confront the issues, but when she does so it proves rather successful.  Furthermore, it is not fair to blame the youth depicted in this film for their disconnect, because as Herckerling's film manages to show, with the exception of a few driven teachers, they are essentially barred via media, parental distractions and capitalist desires from accepting the tragedies invading the world.  Overall, this is what, I believe, manages to make Clueless a bit transcendent of its dated image and far more than simple satire.  Clueless manages to capture a real tragedy facing youth of the era, that has, to some degree only grown worse within the past decade.

Key Scene:  Aside from the various film homages, the best executed scene is perhaps when Cher takes her drivers test.

This movie is quite good and incredibly watchable and is, at the moment, available on Watch Instantly so as always there is no time like the present.

Alright! Everyone On Their Heads!: Attack The Gas Station! (1999)

This continued study of New  Korean Cinema only seems to be getting better, particularly with my recent viewing of Kim Sang-Jin's Attack the Gas Station!, a visceral and experimentally shot study of crime and urban life in Korea.  Set in the matter of two nights, the film explodes off the screen with kinetic energy unlike anything I have seen in sometime and is incredibly reminiscent of the works of both Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie.  Geared towards a youth audience Attack the Gas Station! is unapologetic in its narrative and visual leanings, and holds no qualms in showing graphic violence and dropping expletives.  However, where a film like Attack the Gas Station! seems to diverge from the previously mentioned directors in its underlying social commentary and depth of character development.  The film would have been incredibly watchable had the director provided no back story for the main character, but the decision to add such an element makes it a far more enjoyable movie than the reviews I read prior to viewing could have ever hoped to do.  While the copy I viewed suffered from terrible dubbing, the general gritty and violent nature of the film made this fact go away almost instantly and I found myself enthralled with the characters every action, no matter how degrading or socially unacceptable in may have been.  The violence in Attack the Gas Station! is not poetic and it is certainly not meant to be vengeful as has been the case for so many movies I have previously reviewed, it is simply there as a means of entertainment and once a viewer realizes this, they are allowed to let go of serious expectations and enjoy a sporadic and at times zany film.

Attack the Gas Station! follows four young punks who have taken it upon themselves to rob gas stations for their money, however, after a night of success at a particular station they decide to hit up the joint again with the hopes that their revenue will be similar.  However, this is not the case, and in a fit of confusion and rage they decide to manage the gas station themselves and take one hundred percent of the profits.  The gang's leader is No Mark (Lee Sung-Jae) who espouses "speak soft and carry a big stick" mentality that proves perfect for his position as the group clearly obeys his every word.  The group also includes Painter (Yu Ji-Tae) a quiet individual who clearly excels at defacing property.  There is also Rock Star (Kang Sung-Jin)  who is the most flamboyant of the group, with his leather pants and seemingly unending lines of curse words.  Finally, there is Mad Dog (Yu Oh-Sung), a crazed individual, as his name suggests, who has a fight to the death mentality, which is only emphasized by the continual presence of a large wooden stick that he uses as a means of enforcement.  Throughout the night the group, in a rather comedic manner, attempt to maintain the gas station, while both dealing with a diverse group of customers, while also assuring that the employees of the gas station do not escape from captivity.  The groups inability to run the station, leads to disgruntled customers and run-ins with local gang members as well as one delivery boy who is fed up with continually dropping food off to them at various times through the night.  We are led to believe that the group is engaging in such behavior simply as a means to rebel, but as flashbacks for each of the characters suggests, they have come to their situations as a result of outside forces oppressing them in various ways, and the ultimate result is that this lifestyle is the only thing they find success within.  The film ends in a huge fight scene that is tense and thrillling and truly has to be seen to be believed, but as any good film should, the members of the group discover something about themselves that transcends their personal lives.  Each walks away from the mess more mature and ready to integrate their unique lifestyles into more socially acceptable means. 

So, while I am careful to note the simplistic nature of the commentary within the film, I cannot express how well delivered the commentary is as a whole.  At first it appears to be a simple film about rebellion, but this quickly evolves into a commentary on adapting youth mentalities into a South Korea that continues to industrialize at a more rapid rate.  Multiple scenes in the film depict Painter destroying various signs the promote unity and work ethics within South Korea.  It is not until we realize that he was once an aspiring artist whose dreams were shattered by rhetoric of "real work" and "respectable" employment that his rage is explained.  Fortunately, by the films close painter has found a way in which to adapt his skills to assure gainful employment and thus fit into a vision of South Korea in which every person finds success.  While it could be easy to read such a narrative as inherently conservative, I would argue that this is by no means the case; instead it is rather liberal in its commentary on proper employment.  The other gang members find success as musicians, baseball players and drill instructors.  Attack the Gas Station! is not a film about what one cannot do with innate skills, but instead about promoting the cultivation of such skills in unique and profitable ways.  In fact, the film is incredibly critical of ideologies that dismiss individuals lack of social involvement and note the such rhetoric comes from both the upper and lower classes, as is evidenced by the various businessmen who dismiss No Mark and his friends, as well as the gang members who claim that the gang cannot excel beyond their petty turf wars.  Ultimately, the film reminds viewers that in order to prove successful, one must ignore social commentaries that are unfavorable and affect their own positive change, even if said change requires a night of thievery and debauchery to inspire the desire to move forward.

Attack the Gas Station! is something to be viewed fully and without interruption.  I cannot begin to recommend it enough, particularly to those individuals who find themselves fans of action films; to me this is one of the best in some time.  A copy is a must, also it appears as though there is a sequel.

It's A Whirlwind, You're In It And You Can't Get Out: Young Guns (1988)

I will begin this blog post with a question: Is it possible for a western genre film to be totally 80's?  If you answered no, then you have clearly never seen the film Young Guns, which manages to be both a sturdy western and an example of everything we have come to both love and loathe about 80's filmmaking.  Rife with a group of the hottest actors of the late 80's, Young Guns has everything one would desire from the particular era of filmmaking, yet it manages to have solid shootouts and a considerable grasp of western elements as had been well established decades earlier.  Furthermore, despite having a set of actors who have by no means become synonymous with respected acting, the film is quite enjoyable and surprisingly engaging.  Young Guns, as a film, deserves recognition as one of the better offering from the back half of the decade and is certainly one of the standout Westerns made within the past twenty years.  The film is not particularly stellar in any of its execution; however, it is notably consistent and is a solid movie.  One will be hard pressed to find anything within the film that remotely justifies it as being cinematic, yet it is easy to find moments of enjoyability throughout the film, whether they come from Keifer Sutherland waxing poetic or Emilio Estevez attempting to out bad ass Charlie Sheen. Essentially, Young Guns is nothing more than a regular teen drama set with the Wild West as its backdrop, yet something about its composition manages to be engaging enough to keep the viewer around even if it is a terribly predictable film.

Young Guns, follows a group of gunslingers who have barely passed the threshold of puberty attempting to make their name in the ruthless world of the newly emerging west.  Their sole form of guidance comes in the form of a suave mentor and employer named John Tunstall (Terence Stamp) who in exchange for protection teaches the young men how to read and write.  These young men are a group of unique individuals that clearly trust each other, yet manage to pave distinct paths that would quickly mean loosing interest in one another’s desires.  The group of boys includes Charley Bowdre (Casey Siemasko) and Dirty Steve Stephens (Dermot Mulroney) the clear lackeys in the gang who rarely speak and simply follow the orders of the higher members of the gang.  Jose Chavez (Lou Diamond Phillips) a knife wielding Mexican who has ties to Navajo ancestry.  Josiah “Doc” Scurlock (Keifer Sutherland) the intellectual of the group who finds himself preoccupied with taking the hand of a Chinese immigrant.  Dick Brewer (Charlie Sheen) the clear leader of the back who adheres to the idea of letting his actions speak louder than his words, and finally William “The Kid” Bonney (Emilio Estevez) the newcomer to the group whose rebellious spirit and clearly high levels of angst continually place the group, know as The Regulators, in danger.  It is not long into their existence that the group is forced to test their limits as a ruthless politician named Lawrence G. Murphy (Jack Palance) starts trouble with John Tunstall upon the realization that he has his own political ambitions.  To assure his failed candidacy, Murphy has Tunstall killed, which leads the group into a vengeful fit that leaves many of Murphy’s men dead in the hill and streets of the Wild West.  Ultimately, with the aid of Tunstall’s friend Alex McSween (Terry O’Quinn) the group is able to hole-up in a house and fend off Murphy’s attacks upon the group, who have at this point in the film become criminals.  This comes, however, with a large amount of loss, most notably Dick Brewer, who dies much earlier because of a bounty placed on his head, when he is mistaken as The Kid.  Ultimately, most of the group is able to escape into hiding and continue with their life with little hassle, of course, the narrative notes that “The Kid,” as known in famous Wild West tales is in fact killed, but as the inevitable sequel suggests, that story is for another time.

I joked about the film being incredibly 80’s in its existence; however, the jesting does have an inherent truth to it below the surface.  Despite being entrenched within the dialogue and ways of the west, Young Guns is absolutely a social critique of 1980’s America, particularly one in which the youth of America had become disillusioned with their political system.  This particular time in American politics witnessed the problematic era of Reaganomics and hyper-conservative rule over The United States, only to be followed by the seeming certainty that an inept and equally conservative president would take their place.  The transfer of power from one corrupt individual to another seemed illogical yet impossible to end without force and confrontation.  However, despite the feelings many individuals found themselves too indifferent to affect a change and simply found themselves content complaining about the problems without engaging in their discontinuation.  Young Guns is certainly an attempt to create a zealous animosity towards such unchecked powers.  The aptly named Regulators are meant to take down Murphy, a conservative politician with deep-rooted political ties and seemingly endless amounts of money, while young Americans were believed responsible for taking down Right Wing oppression, which too had deep pockets of money and political power.  As is the case with the film, many people suffered from the revolution against such powers, but as would be the case only a few years later, politics did change, and while it may not have been for the better overall, it certainly did prove promising for the future of youth involvement in political change.  While it is quite possible that Young Guns is simply a western film intended for young adults and teenagers, it would be unfortunate to look over the clear societal influences affecting its production, as they add a clear element of the era’s political discourse.

Young Guns is certainly a contemporary classic that is to be seen.  However, it is not so brilliant that owning a copy is necessary, in fact, the current copy available is not the greatest of quality and suffers from a few dubbing issues.  As such, renting the film seems to be the best choice at the moment.

Surely it's the Things We Do Beforehand That Count: An Education (2009)

9 out of 10 times British movies are cooler than their American counterparts, and Lone Scherfig's 2009 drama An Education is certainly prove of this.  With a cast that includes the enigmatic Carey Mulligan and the suave Peter Sarsgaard it is difficult not to enjoy the movie.  The fine tuned visuals and consistent acting throughout make for an intense movie about love and loss of innocence that is only made more unyielding in the well-delivered performances throughout.  It shows the pain of lost love and the discomforts maturing without offering the unnecessary sugarcoating of most Hollywood offerings.

An Education follows the life of Jenny (Carey Mulligan) as she strives to outshine her classmates at an all girls school in the UK.  Her father, brilliantly played by Alfred Molina, who has his eyes set on her daughter attending Oxford, reinforces her desires.    Jenny appears to be on track to obtain these goals, until she is offered a ride to escape the rain from the much older David (Peter Sarsgaard).  What ensues is Jenny's infatuation with the well traveled and care free David, going on trips to Oxford and Paris with him all the while ignoring her school work and confronting her teachers about their own failed lives.  Even Jenny's father consents to her time with David, because as he sees it this is precisely the man he'd hoped she would meet while at Oxford.  Unfortunately, as it becomes quickly evident David is not exactly the brilliant man he claimed to be; instead he steals items, preys on the elderly and exploits the system to make money, and in his own stupidity hides a very big secret from Jenny, one that ultimately decides the couples fate.  It is a film about growing up that reminds its viewers that sometimes the experience can be quite tumultuous.

The film catches a very unique moment in history, by displaying London in the 1960's.  It plays nicely on the division between old world tradition and the burgeoning revolutionaries that would rule ideology well into the seventies.  Each bit of dialogue exists to further this divide, often using the relationship between Jenny and her father to portray this.  However, the film's soundtrack, scenery and costuming further this notion.  The world of Jenny's father is ruled by the traditional ideals of C.S. Lewis and Jane Austen, while Jenny and David thrive on the literature of existentialists and the films of French New Wave directors.  It is a film that shows the troubles of changing ideals, using Jenny as the metaphor for the loss of innocence that would occur with the onset of Vietnam.

An Education may not have received universal acclaim upon its release, but it is how one should make a movie.  While the film certainly stands heavy on its acting, it is well nshot nonetheless and would be done just if viewed in Bluray format.