Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sorry!
Unfortunately, I won't be able to provide my three or four faithful readers with a review of this week's latest Cinema 10 film, "Coco avant Chanel (2009)." I was only able to watch part of the movie, so I won't comment on what I did see. I'll try to put some other review up here in place of this one, as there won't be a Cinema 10 screening next week. Sorry to anyone that I've deeply hurt!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
God I Love South Park
I'm trying to keep up to date with these reviews, but life seems to be getting in the way a little bit. So I apologize that these aren't as frequent as they could be. I plan on writing reviews for older movies, as well, but I guess I'm too busy to start up with that just yet. But anyway, here's some more food for thought:
It seemed like Cinema 10 had its biggest audience on Monday for the screening of the Academy Award Winning film "The Cove (2009)." People that I didn't think had any interest in attending independent film turned out in droves, and I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's the allure of the Academy's distinction. Or maybe people just really dig on dolphins and dolphin killing. Either way, I'm not sure that anyone walked away disappointed. I know that I had my reservations; activist films are often subject to some negative connotations and I was worried that this would be an hour and a half of how dolphins are the greatest creatures on the planet. Though the dolphin love provided the basis for this entire documentary, it wasn't a gushy, lovesong to our cetacean friends.
On the contrary, the documentary used a plot that at times reminded me of Hollywood thrillers, particularly the footage of the covert operation to place recording equipment at the sight of the dolphin slaughter. Much of the screen time was taken up by dolphin-trainer-turned-activist Ric O'Barry as he lamented his role in popularizing dolphins and thus creating a market for their services and meat. This film was clearly a very personal endeavor for O'Barry and the director, but O'Barry definitely steals the screen as he tries over and over again to make up for the colossal wrong he feels he has committed against the world.
More importantly, "The Cove" is influential and effective. The ending message to "Text DOLPHIN to 44144" is a little hokey and actually drew laughs from the audience, but aside from that, the film is serious and pointed, only straying from the central course once or twice. The Filmmakers undoubtedly turn the audience against the fisherman that hunt the dolphins and the politicians that enable them. And they don't have to use eerie music or menacing camera angles. Their method is simple: tell the audience that politicians are allowing children to be poisoned by the mercury that contaminates dolphin meat, which is being sold to schools as a substitute for other more expensive alternatives. Done. Instantly these people are evil mother fuckers. In the end it's all about money and corruption. The outcome of dolphin hunting isn't as important as the immediate influx of money. It doesn't matter that the industry is unsustainable and cruel and harmful to everyone, just as long as a few misguided people are compensated monetarily. Lately, it seems more and more documentaries are about the horrors of capitalism, and it seems appropriate considering the current economic climate. I don't think this is a theme that's going away anytime soon.
As I said, the movie only strayed momentarily to preach some dolphin love with a heavy dose of anthropomorphism. Is that the right word? I think so. I buy that dolphins are smart and share connections with each other, but I don't really believe that they operate on the same level as human beings. Obviously as living, feeling creatures, dolphins don't deserve to be tortured or killed inhumanely, but that doesn't mean that they are the super beings that the film makers suggest them to be. There's a great episode of Penn & Teller: Bullshit! on the subject that you should check out. (And if you're confused by my title, make sure you check out South Park Studios and watch their "Whale Whores" episode.) But what do I know, really? I suppose I could be wrong.
Verdict: Fairly Stoked, but not Stoked beyond reason. I totally understand why this movie won an Oscar. It's powerful, engaging and entertaining in the sense that it keeps you on the edge of your seat. It sparks a weird sort of rage in people that are otherwise indifferent to the subject. I guess everyone can relate and sympathize with creatures that bare the brunt of greed and cruelty, though. Go see it.
It seemed like Cinema 10 had its biggest audience on Monday for the screening of the Academy Award Winning film "The Cove (2009)." People that I didn't think had any interest in attending independent film turned out in droves, and I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's the allure of the Academy's distinction. Or maybe people just really dig on dolphins and dolphin killing. Either way, I'm not sure that anyone walked away disappointed. I know that I had my reservations; activist films are often subject to some negative connotations and I was worried that this would be an hour and a half of how dolphins are the greatest creatures on the planet. Though the dolphin love provided the basis for this entire documentary, it wasn't a gushy, lovesong to our cetacean friends.
On the contrary, the documentary used a plot that at times reminded me of Hollywood thrillers, particularly the footage of the covert operation to place recording equipment at the sight of the dolphin slaughter. Much of the screen time was taken up by dolphin-trainer-turned-activist Ric O'Barry as he lamented his role in popularizing dolphins and thus creating a market for their services and meat. This film was clearly a very personal endeavor for O'Barry and the director, but O'Barry definitely steals the screen as he tries over and over again to make up for the colossal wrong he feels he has committed against the world.
More importantly, "The Cove" is influential and effective. The ending message to "Text DOLPHIN to 44144" is a little hokey and actually drew laughs from the audience, but aside from that, the film is serious and pointed, only straying from the central course once or twice. The Filmmakers undoubtedly turn the audience against the fisherman that hunt the dolphins and the politicians that enable them. And they don't have to use eerie music or menacing camera angles. Their method is simple: tell the audience that politicians are allowing children to be poisoned by the mercury that contaminates dolphin meat, which is being sold to schools as a substitute for other more expensive alternatives. Done. Instantly these people are evil mother fuckers. In the end it's all about money and corruption. The outcome of dolphin hunting isn't as important as the immediate influx of money. It doesn't matter that the industry is unsustainable and cruel and harmful to everyone, just as long as a few misguided people are compensated monetarily. Lately, it seems more and more documentaries are about the horrors of capitalism, and it seems appropriate considering the current economic climate. I don't think this is a theme that's going away anytime soon.
As I said, the movie only strayed momentarily to preach some dolphin love with a heavy dose of anthropomorphism. Is that the right word? I think so. I buy that dolphins are smart and share connections with each other, but I don't really believe that they operate on the same level as human beings. Obviously as living, feeling creatures, dolphins don't deserve to be tortured or killed inhumanely, but that doesn't mean that they are the super beings that the film makers suggest them to be. There's a great episode of Penn & Teller: Bullshit! on the subject that you should check out. (And if you're confused by my title, make sure you check out South Park Studios and watch their "Whale Whores" episode.) But what do I know, really? I suppose I could be wrong.
Verdict: Fairly Stoked, but not Stoked beyond reason. I totally understand why this movie won an Oscar. It's powerful, engaging and entertaining in the sense that it keeps you on the edge of your seat. It sparks a weird sort of rage in people that are otherwise indifferent to the subject. I guess everyone can relate and sympathize with creatures that bare the brunt of greed and cruelty, though. Go see it.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Bright Star
To say that tonight's Cinema 10 film, "Bright Star (2009)", was anything short of beautiful would be a colossal misstep on my part. I can't say that my mind was totally blown or that I'm left absolutely speechless. If that were the case, I wouldn't exactly have much material for this blog entry. What I can say, however, is that Director Jane Campions' latest endeavor is a wonderful piece of art that might bridge on the "masterpiece" status.
The profound poetry that ran the course of this film about John Keats and his lover, Fanny Brawne was touching, but what made the film was the silence that broke up the emotional dialogue. On countless occasions since I've begun my college career, I've been fed a quote from an author whose name I've lost that runs something like this: "The hardest part about writing is trying to convince my wife that I'm working when I stare outside my window." This film captures this sentiment perfectly. Much of the picture is composed of shots of characters staring - gazing, even - at something or someone in the distance. The audience is forced to wonder at what they're contemplating. While much of the message is straightforward and precise, the audience must create their own meaning, just like they must with every piece of important literature.
Even masterpieces have their flaws, though, I suppose. The film is a little slow at the outset; the first few minutes are slightly boring and trite, but it unfolds into something incredible quickly. Every relationship presented in the film is significant and plays a role in the final outcome, and is therefore enjoyable and engaging. I was a little put off by the attire at first, as high class British dress tends to rub me the wrong way, but the film transcends the class war stereotype that is so often the subject of movies set in the 1800s and focuses instead on the conflict of expectations established in the aforementioned relationships. If that run-on sentence makes strikes a chord at all; sorry.
Verdict: Moving. This is the first and last time I'll sum up a movie without somehow using the word "Stoked." I think that while I find the word funny and useful, to say it now would almost be to sully what this film was about. I hate to say that "Bright Star" was moving because that's cliche and boring, but there aren't too many other words in my vocabulary that come to mind at the moment. Do whatever you can to get your hands on this.
The profound poetry that ran the course of this film about John Keats and his lover, Fanny Brawne was touching, but what made the film was the silence that broke up the emotional dialogue. On countless occasions since I've begun my college career, I've been fed a quote from an author whose name I've lost that runs something like this: "The hardest part about writing is trying to convince my wife that I'm working when I stare outside my window." This film captures this sentiment perfectly. Much of the picture is composed of shots of characters staring - gazing, even - at something or someone in the distance. The audience is forced to wonder at what they're contemplating. While much of the message is straightforward and precise, the audience must create their own meaning, just like they must with every piece of important literature.
Even masterpieces have their flaws, though, I suppose. The film is a little slow at the outset; the first few minutes are slightly boring and trite, but it unfolds into something incredible quickly. Every relationship presented in the film is significant and plays a role in the final outcome, and is therefore enjoyable and engaging. I was a little put off by the attire at first, as high class British dress tends to rub me the wrong way, but the film transcends the class war stereotype that is so often the subject of movies set in the 1800s and focuses instead on the conflict of expectations established in the aforementioned relationships. If that run-on sentence makes strikes a chord at all; sorry.
Verdict: Moving. This is the first and last time I'll sum up a movie without somehow using the word "Stoked." I think that while I find the word funny and useful, to say it now would almost be to sully what this film was about. I hate to say that "Bright Star" was moving because that's cliche and boring, but there aren't too many other words in my vocabulary that come to mind at the moment. Do whatever you can to get your hands on this.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Alice in Wonderland
So I've seen "Alice In Wonderland (2010)" twice now, once at a private midnight screening and once at a public midnight screening. I'm only writing this now because I need something to occupy the time between now and work in a half hour. It's one of those movies where you get about what you expect to get. It's a Tim Burton spin on an old Disney Classic, but frankly, the original is much more entertaining and profound. This one just seems to be full of a lot of clutter that detracts from the plot. Burton's use of CGI and 3D effects is so overwhelming that I often found myself confused about the plot because I was too busy looking at something else going on in that scene. Even more troublesome is the fact that sometimes it's hard to pick out the focus character of a given shot because there are so many distractions. The best part was Johnny Depp's take on the Mad Hatter which was nothing short of hilarious and troubling, making for a well-rounded, enjoyable character. Everything else just seems kind of boring and undeveloped; what I took away from both viewings was that it's a three-hour movie crammed into a two hour time slot.
What I keep finding myself coming back to is the 3D element utilized here. People are paying in excess of ten dollars a seat to see a 3D movie that doesn't really use 3D to its fullest potential. Since "Avatar (2009)" came out in December, a new bar has been set. James Cameron used 3D to create a world so vast and immense and beautiful that it was hard to distance one's self from the movie and the real world. Plot-wise, Avatar sucked. It was the same story that's been told four hundred times over. But god dammit, it looked fantastic. It was visually stunning and for that reason, any movie that uses 3D or creates some sort of new world has to be able to capture the sort of wonder that Avatar induced, or else it just cannot compare. In short: I found myself taking off my glasses at numerous points and didn't see too much of a difference.
Verdict: Meh... less than Stoked. If you think you're going to love this movie, you probably will. It will meet your expectations, and exceed them if you happen to have your standards set pretty low. This movie's nothing spectacular and fails to compete with its animated predecessor.
What I keep finding myself coming back to is the 3D element utilized here. People are paying in excess of ten dollars a seat to see a 3D movie that doesn't really use 3D to its fullest potential. Since "Avatar (2009)" came out in December, a new bar has been set. James Cameron used 3D to create a world so vast and immense and beautiful that it was hard to distance one's self from the movie and the real world. Plot-wise, Avatar sucked. It was the same story that's been told four hundred times over. But god dammit, it looked fantastic. It was visually stunning and for that reason, any movie that uses 3D or creates some sort of new world has to be able to capture the sort of wonder that Avatar induced, or else it just cannot compare. In short: I found myself taking off my glasses at numerous points and didn't see too much of a difference.
Verdict: Meh... less than Stoked. If you think you're going to love this movie, you probably will. It will meet your expectations, and exceed them if you happen to have your standards set pretty low. This movie's nothing spectacular and fails to compete with its animated predecessor.
Monday, March 1, 2010
A Life in Images
Finally!, the theater for Cinema 10 was packed the way it should have been. I’d like to think that all my advertising and blogs and hype have helped a little bit, but that’s probably not the case. I don’t really care. I’m just glad that more people are coming out to support important independent and foreign cinema. I don’t know what compelled people to come to the screening of “Los abrazos rotos (2009),” but they certainly didn’t walk away disappointed, clapping at the screen as the credits began to roll. While it wasn’t the best film I’ve ever seen, Almodovar’s fourth venture with Penelope Cruz certainly waswas inspired, vibrant, and entertaining.
The film is a multi-layered and angled look at the life of blind film-maker Mateo Blanco who we instantly recognize as a charming and passionate dude that throws himself at whatever he wants. The other players are his production manager, Judit, and her son, Diego, who simultaneously propel and frustrate the plot throughout the course of the movie. They (and their actions) are, of course, catalysts for the change that must take place in order for Mateo to overcome the death of his tragic lover, Lena.
The film jumps back and forth between times and places, to Mateo’s brief-love affair with vision and to Lena’s struggle to help her dying father which results in being tied to a man whose obsession with her dilutes any feelings she could ever reciprocate. The refusal to focus is initially confusing, but ultimately deliberate; it feels like there are a million different ideas thrust forth at once - muddling the picture - but it all comes together beautifully in the end. Likewise, the film can be surmised in two brief moments: when Diego finds a heavy, full grocery bag in Mateo’s locked desk drawer, and secondly when he finally opens it, spilling its contents over a table in a jumbled mass. Offscreen, Diego begins the impossible process of piecing together the hundreds of thousands of torn photographs of Mateo and Lena. Onscreen, we catch only a sideways glance at the one picture that Diego has assembled, but it’s enough so that we get an idea of what Almodovar wants from us without his message being overt.
“Broken Embraces” is also a comment on the film making process. On the whole, the many layers create a story within a story within a story within a story, where different actions and aspects of each piece affect every other layer. The creative process is often subject to this complex relationship, so it’s kind of refreshing that Almodovar acknowledges this. Mateo’s blindness (and subsequent alter ego) allow him to take a step back and approach his art from a new angle, a frustrating necessity of all artistic endeavors.
As always, though, I do have some gripes; this is not as great a film as some of the other Spanish films I’ve encountered (Ahem…). Though most everything comes together, the plot does seem to meander at points, suggesting subplots that could have been omitted. There’s also a revelation at the end that is entirely unnecessary, as it’s hinted at nonstop for 2 hours prior and follows another revelation that is far more profound. I suppose I just mean that in a film that is otherwise so deep and clever, there are a few moments that leave me asking “so what?”
Verdict: A little more than Stoked. I'm starting to think that I should invest some time in Almodovar's other films. His ideas and directions are powerful and provocative, and he ends this one with the very profound suggestion that films (and art and life and love and and and and) should be finished, whether or not sight is a gift you possess.
The film is a multi-layered and angled look at the life of blind film-maker Mateo Blanco who we instantly recognize as a charming and passionate dude that throws himself at whatever he wants. The other players are his production manager, Judit, and her son, Diego, who simultaneously propel and frustrate the plot throughout the course of the movie. They (and their actions) are, of course, catalysts for the change that must take place in order for Mateo to overcome the death of his tragic lover, Lena.
The film jumps back and forth between times and places, to Mateo’s brief-love affair with vision and to Lena’s struggle to help her dying father which results in being tied to a man whose obsession with her dilutes any feelings she could ever reciprocate. The refusal to focus is initially confusing, but ultimately deliberate; it feels like there are a million different ideas thrust forth at once - muddling the picture - but it all comes together beautifully in the end. Likewise, the film can be surmised in two brief moments: when Diego finds a heavy, full grocery bag in Mateo’s locked desk drawer, and secondly when he finally opens it, spilling its contents over a table in a jumbled mass. Offscreen, Diego begins the impossible process of piecing together the hundreds of thousands of torn photographs of Mateo and Lena. Onscreen, we catch only a sideways glance at the one picture that Diego has assembled, but it’s enough so that we get an idea of what Almodovar wants from us without his message being overt.
“Broken Embraces” is also a comment on the film making process. On the whole, the many layers create a story within a story within a story within a story, where different actions and aspects of each piece affect every other layer. The creative process is often subject to this complex relationship, so it’s kind of refreshing that Almodovar acknowledges this. Mateo’s blindness (and subsequent alter ego) allow him to take a step back and approach his art from a new angle, a frustrating necessity of all artistic endeavors.
As always, though, I do have some gripes; this is not as great a film as some of the other Spanish films I’ve encountered (Ahem…). Though most everything comes together, the plot does seem to meander at points, suggesting subplots that could have been omitted. There’s also a revelation at the end that is entirely unnecessary, as it’s hinted at nonstop for 2 hours prior and follows another revelation that is far more profound. I suppose I just mean that in a film that is otherwise so deep and clever, there are a few moments that leave me asking “so what?”
Verdict: A little more than Stoked. I'm starting to think that I should invest some time in Almodovar's other films. His ideas and directions are powerful and provocative, and he ends this one with the very profound suggestion that films (and art and life and love and and and and) should be finished, whether or not sight is a gift you possess.
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