The Artist: Less Is More

We've all heard the expression "They don't make things like they used too anymore." However, French director Michel Hazanavicius has made something "like they used to," the new showbiz feature, The Artist (2011). 

A self-referential, black-and-white silent film, The Artist is the story of George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), a silent picture megastar and Clark Gable lookalike whose life and career crumble to pieces after he refuses to star in "talkies." Berenice Bejo, who resembles Rachel McAdams and Michelle Monaghan, complements Jean as Peppy Miller, an effervescent, up-and-coming actress who tries to help the washed-up title character revive his career. Undoubtedly, The Artist, which pays homage to such classics as Alan Crosland's The Jazz Singer (1927), Stanley Donen's Singin' In The Rain (1951), Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard (1950), and Charlie Chaplin's City Lights (1931), excels by playfully utilizing the many visual techniques of early cinema: camera cards, canted angles, lively dance numbers, wipes and iris-oriented scene changes, spinning newspaper montages, and a sidekick jack russell terrier (who could be mistaken for Asta from The Thin Man), just to name a few. In addition, those who prefer celluloid over digital will appreciate the cinematography of The Artist, which is shot in shadowy, low-key and bright, grainy lighting.

However, The Artist, which features several cameos by John Goodman, Malcolm McDowell, and James Cromwell, primarily excels as a film because the director keeps the story simple, innocent, and upbeat. Perhaps, in echoing the optimistic tone of films made in the 1930s, Hazanavicius is sending us the message that in an anxiety-filled era of global extremism, broken dreams, and digital streaming, art still must serve as a gleeful, entertaining escape from reality...either that or he's sending us the message that our Academy should create a new category for the 2011 Oscars: Best Supporting Canine (Arthur from The Beginners, I wish you the best of luck). 

I give The Artist a 9/10. 

"Drive" Fires On All Cylinders

It's safe to say that very few American action films these days attain critical success. Perhaps I'm just painting with a broad stroke, but I'm sure that many of us as movie viewers would conclude that the often stereotyped fissure that exists between visceral Hollywood blockbusters and cerebral art-house pictures supposedly separates the "artists" from the "entertainers." However, that is not always the case. By not sacrificing the bullets, bone-crushing fight sequences, or car chases that every testosterone-fueled action viewer loves for the intelligent, cohesive script and performances that every "art film" viewer loves, many filmmakers have broken the mold. Christopher Nolan did so with The Dark Knight (2008) and Inception (2010), James Cameron did so with Aliens (1986), and now Danish-American director Nicolas Winding Refn has done so with his new vehicular-oriented crime thriller, Drive. 

Much in the vain of Clint Eastwood's poncho-clad, cigar-smoking Man With No Name, Driver, the lead character in Drive (who dons a sleek, silver sports jacket instead of a poncho), remains inexplicably secretive and otherwise unnamed, and Ryan Gosling ("Crazy Stupid Love," "Blue Valentine") gives a commanding performance of this character. Quiet but effective, swift but brutal, reasonable but firm, Driver leads a double life. By day, he's a legitimate, hardworking chop-shop employee, speed racer, and Hollywood wheelman. By night, though, he's a getaway driver for thieves, a dirty job that goes completely unnoticed until he sparks up a relationship with his next door neighbor, Irene (Carey Mulligan). When her husband, Standard (Oscar Isaac), a recently-released ex-convict who owes various thugs an outrageously large amount of money, seeks Driver's help in pulling off a heist that'll save his wife and son, things go terribly awry. Their plan backfires, and Driver soon enough finds out that he's become involved in a vicious game of cat-and-mouse involving his employer, Shannon (Bryan Cranston), and mobsters Nino (Ron Perlman) and Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks).

Driver may not only remind viewers of the above-mentioned Man With No Name (with a twist of Jason Bourne-style ferocity thrown into the mix), but also the resolute mavericks of the 1960s and 1970s era European New Wave: Michel Poiccard (Jean-Paul Belmondo) from Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless (1960) and Mercello Clerici (Jean-Louis Trintignant) from Bernardo Bertolucci's The Conformist (1970),  just to name a few. The film is certainly as stylish and slow-paced as a European crime thriller, but excels by pleasing the adrenaline-filled American audience as well. Refn delivers cleanly-edited, solidly-paced action scenes that are as enjoyable to watch as they are brutal and disturbing. One particular sequence, in which Driver flees an unidentified pursuer (the former in a sporty hotrod, the latter in a shiny luxury mobile) on the open road, is just as impressive a car chase as Steve McQueen in Bullit (1968) or Gene Hackman in The French Connection (1971). Although no massive, Michael Bay-style explosions fill the screen or hyper-stylized edits occur, the close shots of the two cars accelerating, decelerating, speeding in reverse, and bumping into one another are enough to build the tension significantly.

The film does suffer from a few weaknesses. The pulsating, electro-synthetic score could drive away some viewers (no pun intended), while others may simply find it tacky. Also, while Carey Mulligan gives a solid performance, her character remains somewhat unexplored. Irene catalyzes the story's various deadly conflicts, but remains more of an accessory to the plot than an actual independent character. Overall, though, Drive excels where other American crime thrillers/action adventures don't: the style, story, and characters are given as much attention as the blood, bullets, and crumpling metal.

Slick, suspenseful, and well-acted, Drive is an accelerating achievement in the world of modern American cinema. I give it a 8.5/10.  

Horrible...Far From It

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation,” once wrote Henry David Thoreau. A cathartic, existential piece of literature and philosophy that has inspired us to reexamine and reprioritize our lives, this expression could have no better place in modern society than in the daily grind of the work world. For some, a job is a source of joy and fulfillment, but for others, it’s a grueling endeavor that we partake in only to avoid eating dirt. Just ask Nick Hendricks (Jason Bateman), Dale Arbus (Charlie Day), and Kurt Buckman (Jason Sudeikis) of Horrible Bosses, Seth Gordon’s raunchy new summer comedy. I’m sure they would agree.

For these three stooges, calling their employers tyrannical monsters would be an understatement. Nick’s boss, Dave Harken (Kevin Spacey) is a condescending, self-absorbed despot, Dale’s boss, Dr. Julia Harris, D.D.S. (Jennifer Aniston) is a manipulative, foul-mouthed nymphomaniac who harasses her engaged employee to sleep with her under threat of blackmail, and Kurt’s new boss, Bobby Pellitt (Colin Farrell), is an indifferent and abrasive, coke-snorting kung-fu-lover who, in the words of George Costanza, “fires people like it’s a bodily function.” With the help of a few drinks and the dubious “murder advice” of ex-con, Dean (12-letter expletive) Jones (Jamie Foxx), the three friends decide to swap and then snuff their respective employers.  Lacking the intelligence or decisiveness to pull off such a heinous crime, though, therein lies the conflict and hilarity of the story.

Paying homage to films such as Mike Judge’s 1998 cult classic, Office Space (which Jennifer Aniston also coincidentally starred in) and all of the bawdy entourage comedies, such as The Hangover (2009) and Bridesmaids (2011), of recent years, Horrible Bosses is far from perfect. The story is not quite as fresh I hoped it would be, the ending feels rushed, and the frank dialogue, digressive ad-libbing, and scatological humor that I abhorred in The Hangover prevented this movie from reaching its full, knee-slapping potential. Nevertheless, the fluid chemistry between Bateman, Day, Sudeikis, and the rest of the cast made this film work. Horrible Bosses has a definite, cartoonish flair to it, and the movie is filled with sharp, spontaneous jokes. It definitely helps that Aniston stepped out of her typical “sweet girl” role for a film like this and Spacey continued in the footsteps of his roles in Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) and Swimming With Sharks (1994). Moreover, in the likeness of darker crime films, such as Fargo (1996) and Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead (2007), the movie also greatly benefits from its “seemingly failsafe scheme gone-wrong” premise.

What are you in for with Horrible Bosses: a few cat jokes, a running gag about a sex-offender who urinated on a playground at night (“when no kids were around”), and Jennifer Aniston talking real, real dirty (of course to give away any more jokes would be to spoil the movie). If this sounds stupid, bear in mind, it is. That being said, the deliveries and shining performances of all actors involved (including a cameo by Donald Sutherland) overshadow any of the film’s flaws. With a spirited cast, an amusing premise, and a few hard-laugh-worthy jokes, Horrible Bosses won’t have you killing your own employer, but it will have you laughing at them. I give this film a 7/10. 

My Five Worst Films

To compliment my 10 favorite films, here are my 5 worst. I'm sure you're wondering why 5 (instead of 10). The reason is because I'm usually very careful about choosing films, but here and there some films will strike a bad chord with me. These films aren't simply movies I just didn't prefer or care for too much. These films really made me angry, or they were boring and/or overrated

Also, I will not go into as much depth as I did with the 10 Favorites because, well, these films aren't worth that much time and energy of mine.

1) The Hangover- forced, lazy, and uncreative, obnoxiously unfunny, predictable gross-out jokes. I'm not one of those people that only prefers pedantic, high-brow humor. I like a lot of "stupid" comedies, but this wasn't one of them. The jokes ran flat, the soundtrack was terrible, and, I'm sorry, but "shock" nudity, characters singing out of tune,  running gags about "fake doctors," and people screeching, spiritedly dropping the f-bomb, and wavering about in a desperate attempt for laughs is NOT humorous in any way, shape, or form.
2) Big Lebowski- Obnoxious? Not entirely. Some of the cult-classic expressions from this film are pretty irritating, but more than anything else, though, this movie is just simply overrated. The jokes are convoluted and pretentious, and the story is incoherent, unentertaining, and what I like to describe as "pseudo-avante garde." Also, none of the characters are that sympathetic (especially John Goodman's loud and abrasive character). I've enjoyed several of the Cohen Brothers' films (Fargo, No Country For Old Men, and True Grit, just to name a few), but this is definitely not one of them.
3) The Girl Next Door- as a male viewer, I find it completely insulting when Hollywood assumes that as long as a film caters to your libido, you'll like it. Case in point- The Girl Next Door, a poorly-produced high school comedy. Is the story predictable and stale? I wouldn't go as far as to say that, but the characters are neither sympathetic nor believable, the jokes, references and scenarios are cliched, and the acting is sub-par.
4) Mallrats- Boring, uneventful, and obnoxious, this film by Kevin Smith looks like it was filmed in a weekend.
5) Man Bites Dog- this French film, a gruesome satire on the effects of television violence on society, is painfully unentertaining and gross. It's like watching one of the Saw or Hostel films, except there's absolutely no pay off. What's more infuriating about this film is that it tries to copycat Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange with its level of gratuity and "shock." Pretentious would be an understatement for this film. Boring would be another useful adjective.

Off To A Good Start

Love, love, love, love, love. Yes, we get it! This timeless, seemingly enigmatic concept that has permeated every nook and cranny of human culture since the days of the Neolithic Revolution, continues to leave its hackneyed mark on the modern world of today. However, in the field of independent films, Beginners (2011), a new comedy-drama by director Mike Mills, explores our favorite L-word, as well as the issues of vulnerability and self-doubt, liminality, and loneliness, in its own unique way.  

The story follows the life of Oliver (Ewan McGregor), a doleful graphic designer who makes an attempt at forming a serious relationship with Anna (Melanie Laurent), a quirky, itinerant actress, after recently coming to terms with two shocking revelations: the first being that his 75-year old father, Hal (Christopher Plummer), has come out of the closet and taken a younger lover, Andy (Goran Visnjic), and the second being that his father has been diagnosed with stage-four cancer. Frequently skipping about through time, the movie begins with Oliver cleaning out his recently-deceased father's bungalow, emptying out his pills, consolidating his personal belongings, and taking his Jack Russell terrier home with him....a poignant moment for anyone who has ever gone through the grieving process themselves. 

However, the film, while filled with lugubrious moments (such as the one above), it not entirely morose.  It is also whimsical and funny, and for starters, the humorous moments in which Arthur, the cute little pooch who is taken everywhere, coddled, kissed, and loved by everyone, telepathically communicates with Oliver (through subtitles) will warmly amuse many viewers-- not to mention pet/animal lovers. There is also a scene in which two characters roller-skate through a hotel lobby, reminiscent of the lightheartedness of a Charlie Chaplin film. By that same token, the film benefits from extraordinarily sharp writing. During one scene in which Anna and Oliver look out from their hotel room to another building across from them, Anna remarks, "Half the people live with the feeling of not knowing whether or not things will turn out for them. The other half relies on magic." Similarly, there is a flashback scene in which Oliver's mother (Mary Page Keller) explains what therapeutic catharsis is to her son, whom she whittles the day away with by playing games and attending art museums, and then tells him to go into his room and scream as loud as he can to demonstrate the latter. When he opens the door and reveals to her that he doesn't feel like screaming, she facetiously answers, "You will." Short, simple, and penetrating, acutely honest observations like these that give the movie its flair. 

What's also particularly effective and intriguing are the many instances in the movie in which barrages of still photos, accompanied by Ewan McGregor's forthright, expository narration, flash up on the screen. Displaying everything from presidential portraits to vintage, pop art-style advertising and telescopic images of space, these montages compare the frivolous, yet at the same time significant, cultural details and relics of the modern day (2003) with the recent past (1950s). A creative, authentic and surprisingly useful tactic for this story, Mills seems to be impressing upon us viewers the redolent message that, despite what occurs around us in the external world, certain facets of human experience don't change, and one of those facets is our relationships with other people (or in the case of this movie, people and pets).  

The film is not perfect, and may strike many as being too quiet, too quirky, or too sentimental. However, for what it's worth, it is as pleasantly original, movingly entertaining, and sweet as independent films about love are going to get. I guess you could call it "Beginners' Luck." I give it a 7/10.  

10 Favorite Movie Animals

The best "actors/actresses" in Hollywood because they don't ever have to act. They also don't require makeup sessions or paychecks.

1) The tiger from the Hangover (a movie I otherwise hated)
2) Verdell, the small dog from As Good As It Gets 
3) Arthur, the Jack Russell from Beginners 
4) Samantha, the German shepherd from I Am Legend 
5) Shadow, Sassy, and Chance, the Himalayan (cat), Boxer (dog), and Golden Retriever (dog)-- respectively-- from Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey 
6) Emma, the snake from Lady Eve 
7) Marley, the yellow labrador from Marley and Me 
8) The whale from Free Willy  
9) Beethoven, the eponymous Bernese Mountain Dog from the Beethoven series
10) The dolphin from Flipper 

Brilliant Leaves But Feeble Roots

Impressionistic...elliptical...oracular...profound. Terrence Malik's newest cosmological drama, "The Tree of Life," has been given many adjectives, and the respective acclaimed director of "Days of Heaven," "Bad Lands," and the "New World," who has remained notably reclusive throughout his years, took home an award for it at the Cannes Film Festival.

However, the real question that remains is: can the fast-paced, HD-obsessed culture of today stomach this silver screen rendition of Malick's inner consciousness, an ethereal and evanescent, memory-filled one at that? If you enjoy BBC's Planet Earth, Stephen Hawking specials on the "Big Bang," or films with the religious, metaphysical aura of an Ingmar Bergman picture, then the answer is yes. Otherwise, see it at your own risk.

Undoubtedly, "Tree of Life" is a visual wonder, filled with breathtaking views of all kinds: celestial stars and supernovas, the alignment of planets, eruptions of fiery lava, bubbling pools of gaseous water, the first traces of unicellular life, microscopic larvae, dinosaurs, breaking waves, subterranean fissures, pristine canyons, mountain ranges, beaches, pock-marked landscapes, and waterfalls, triassic riverbeds, amoebas, primordial hammerheads and jellyfish, dappled sunlight that filters through canopies of verdurous tree leaves, rolling meadows, spiraling cathedrals, labyrinth-filled energy plants, and the list goes on. Malick tries to illustrate the grand schema of everything, linking human beings and their place and struggle in the universe with that of every other form of life, and he definitely deserves kudos for that-- as does he for his lush, dreamlike montage of fleeting childhood memories (boys climbing trees, playing baseball, swimming in the river, etc.). However, it's ultimately the lack of thoroughly concretized characters and settings (as well as the film's occasionally choppy editing) that prevents this movie from reaching its full potential.

The story follows Jack O'Brian (Sean Penn), a ruminative lost soul in the postmodern world, who, like many of us, pines for the innocence of his youth. Still grief-stricken by the loss of his brother, who died at 19,  Jack flashes back to his own "Garden of Eden": the early pre-Eisenhower days of the 1950s when he and his two brothers, R.L. and Steve, were growing up in Waco, Texas. His loving, but authoritative father (Brad Pitt) was a factory owner, his soft-hearted and nurturing mother (Jessica Chastain) was a typical, Baby Boom-era housewife, and he and brothers were just normal kids: adventurous, naive, and carefree. However, as the years passed and Jack began to witness the harsh realities of the world, the blissfulness of his childhood slowly began to disappear.

The basic message of the film that Malick is trying to deliver with poetic sentimentality is that the world is divided into two categories: "grace" and "nature." Grace is loving, unselfish, and divine, and nature is, in the words of Thomas Hobbes, "nasty, brutish, and short." Adhering to conventional western views, Malick represents Mrs. O'Brian as the quintessential model of grace and Mr. O'Brian as a more complicated model of nature. The former tells her boys that "unless you love, your life will pass you by." The latter tells his boys that "it takes fierce will to get ahead in this world," and if you want to get ahead in this world, "you can't be too good." Although Mr. O'Brian, an avid church organist on the side, is certainly sympathetic in his role as the industrious, perseverant father who forgoes his artistic passions to feed his family, the movie never really fully explores his character, and the same is the case with Jack and Mrs. O'Brian.

"Tree of Life," which utilizes whispery, disembodied voice-overs (channeling the deep and reflective inner thoughts of the characters), swiveling and swirling, angular views, and a mixture of shots-- some extremely close-up and others extraordinarily expansive (such as when we view the birth of the universe, e.g.), is a beautiful arrangement of Malick's personal thoughts and memories, but there's little cohesion to them. As an experimental film, it's great for small theaters and gallery IMAX studios. For the traditional audience, though, it simply hasn't reached its full growth. That being said, I give it a 6.5/10.  

The Other Fresh Picks

Selecting 10 favorite films of mine was a very hard task. There were some I knew had to be on the list, but then there were a few that I almost ended up flipping a coin over. Here are some of the other films that didn't make the list but were nevertheless spectacular 

1) Amores Perros (2000); Directed by Alejandro Gonzales Iñárritu; Mexico 

2) Cries and Whispers (1972); Directed by Ingmar Bergman; Sweden

3) A Clockwork Orange (1971); Directed by Stanley Kubrick; Britain  

4) A Few Good Men (1992); Directed by Rob Reiner; U.S.

5) Godfather Part II (1974); Directed by Francis Ford Coppola; U.S.  

6) Black Swan (2010); Directed by Daron Aronovsky; U.S. 

7) Rules of the Game (1939); Directed by Jean Renoir; France 

8) Paths of Glory (1957); Directed by Stanley Kubrick; Britain 

9) Midnight Express (1978); Directed by Alan J. Parker; U.S. 

10) The Rope (1948); Directed by Alfred Hitchcock; U.S. 

11) Scarface (1983); Directed by Brian De Palma; U.S. 

12) Saving Private Ryan (1998); Directed by Steven Spielberg; U.S. 

13) Before the Devil Knows You're Dead (2007); Directed by Sidney Lumet; U.S. 

14) Dog Day Afternoon (1975); Directed by Sidney Lumet; U.S. 

15) Last of the Mohicans (1992); Directed by Michael Mann; U.S. 

16) Strangers On A Train (1951); Directed by Alfred Hitchcock; U.S. 

17) Speed (1994); Directed by Jan de Bont; U.S. 

18) The Philadelphia Story (1940); Directed by George Cuckro; U.S. 

19) Some Like It Hot (1959); Directed by Billy Wilder; U.S. 

20) Casablanca (1942); Directed by Michael Curtiz; U.S. 

21) Vertigo (1958); Directed by Alfred Hitchcock; U.S. 

22) Psycho (1960); Directed by Alfred Hitchcock; U.S. 

23) The Graduate (1967); Directed by Mike Nichols; U.S.  

24) The Virgin Spring (1960); Directed by Ingmar Bergman; Sweden 

25) The Seventh Seal (1957); Directed by Ingmar Bergman; Sweden 

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Ten

FAVORITE FILM NUMBER 10: Orange County (2002) 

It may come as a shock, but my own personal experience of applying to college (during my senior year of high school) was actually not that bad. I'm not sure why that was, but for others, though, "bad" would be an understatement, and there are a number of reasons for that. For some people, it was the low SAT scores or the onslaught of rejection letters. For others, though, there were, of course, those infamously sluggish guidance counselors who unintentionally made the process all the more agonizing. However, while I'm sure the latter was, still is, and will continue to be extraordinarily frustrating and exacerbating for many people in real life, in the movie world, i.e. Jake Kasdan's Orange County (2002), the latter is downright hilarious. 

The movie, which takes place in Orange County, California, is the story of Shaun Brumder (Colin Hanks), an overachieving high school student and aspiring writer with his heart set on attending Stanford the fall after his graduation. When not hanging out with his air-headed surfer buddies, Lonny (Bret Harrison), Arlo (Kyle Howard), and Chad (R.J. Knoll), or getting intimate with his girlfriend, Ashley (Schuyler Fisk), Shaun is either busy reading books or writing college essays. Thus, it comes as no surprise when Shaun's guidance counselor, Charlotte Cobb (Lily Tomlin), tells him that he is a "shoo-in" wherever he applies. However, things suddenly go awry when Cobb accidentally mails the wrong transcript and Shaun, thus, isn't accepted into Stanford. Of course, it doesn't help that everyone in Shaun's family has idiosyncratic issues: his brother, Lance (Jack Black) is a drug-abusing couch potato who lies around in his underwear all day, his mother, Cindy (Catherine O'Hara), is an alcoholic, his step-father, Bob (George Murdock) is incapacitated, and his biological father, Bud (John Lithgow), doesn't support his aspirations to be a writer. Nevertheless, with the exhausted help of his family and friends, Shaun does what he can to fix the mistake Cobb made and hopefully be admitted into Stanford. 

Why is this film one of my top ten favorites? Is the reason because it's a touching, powerful work of thought-provoking, cinematic art? No...the reason is because it's exactly what it intends to be: lighthearted and funny! There are not many comedies nowadays that actually make me laugh (Sweeney Todd, Kick-Ass, and Tropic Thunder being the few exceptions), and for those that do, it's not the uncontrollable, gust-busting and tear-shedding type of laughter that we all seek that I succumb to. To be blunt, the reason why is that most comedies are either horrendously lazy & obnoxious (i.e. The Hangover) or are filled with uncomfortably contrived jokes that don't fit inside an otherwise dark and dramatic story. Oftentimes I'm left completely baffled, wondering to myself why more films can't be as fun, frivolous and silly as Airplane (1980), Naked Gun (1988), Austin Powers (1997), Meet The Parents (2000), or any of the Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, or Marx Brothers films. Thus, when films like Orange County come along and pleasantly surprise me I give them unmitigated appraisal. 

So what is it about Orange County that makes it such a hilarious film? The answer to that question can found by answering another question: What is it about any comedy, joke, or humorous situation, story, or person that makes us laugh? Some would say that we laugh when we're trying to cover up own our feelings of sadness or pain. Of course there are plenty of instances when that is simply not the case. My feeling is that we usually laugh when there is a sense of irony or incongruity to something: e.g. a macho man in a dress and high heels, a dog in a polo shirt and sunglasses sitting at the steering wheel of a car, or the tragic demise of a great leader who slips on a banana peel and falls a towering one foot to his death. Another reason why we laugh, according to many, is that it makes us feel better about ourselves to snicker at those whom we consider to be "inferior." Mean-spirited? Yes...very much so, and oftentimes to a frightening degree. However, there are many characters that no one has or would ever have a problem ridiculing: Homer Simpson, George Costanza, and Happy Gilmore, just to name a few, and in Orange County, that type of humor is exactly what we get. 

Orange County caters to the common stereotype that people from rich, coastal communities are stupid and superficial, and a number of moments in the film brilliantly exemplify that. During one scene, one of the "air-headed" surfers rides a mountainous wave during a hurricane, and the last words he casually utters before meeting his maker are: "Dude, this is extreme!" During another scene, an English teacher idiotically rattles off a number of films that (according to him) were inspired by Shakespearean plays, including Gladiator, Waterworld, and Chocolat. There is a scene when the Dean of Admissions at Stanford accidentally ingests ecstasy, and another in which a person gets high and "accidentally" sets a building on fire. Cobb, the ditzy guidance counselor, is always worth a belly laugh or two, as are Shaun's family members. In fact, the goofiest sequence in the movie occurs when Shaun tries to put on a good impression for the president of Stanford and his wife. When they arrive at his house (much to his horrified chagrin), Shaun tries desperately hard to make sure his mother, brother, and stepfather remain quiet and don't embarrass him. Of course, this doesn't go as planned, and Shaun watches in shock and dismay as his mother puts on a lively, drunken performance, his brother (in his underwear), after performing a cartwheel over his bed, interrupts Shaun's meeting to ask where his drug-related urine sample is, and his stepfather starts banging on the windows. 

Delivering sharp, well-executed jokes and hilarious performances, Orange County is an example of comedy at its best.  

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Nine

FAVORITE FILM NUMBER 9: The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

I'm sure as kids, most of us hated being told to "go to our rooms" or to sit in "time-out." However, as we all know, in the adult world, those types of punishments stand pale in comparison to what happens to you if you break the law. Commit or be convicted of a felony, and you'll find yourself in a more mammoth room, commonly known as prison, with a new, extraordinarily more aggressive form of time-out. Usually, most people are so petrified by the horror stories of lockdowns, disgusting food, and sodomy that they will do anything they can NOT to end up in the "slammer." However, the frightening truth, as I'm sure we all know, is that sometimes wrongfully-accused innocent people end up in prison as well, and Frank Darabont's The Shawshank Redemption (1994) is a poignant, fictional example of that. 

Based on the novella, Rita Hayworth Visits Shawshank Prison, by Stephen King, The Shawshank Redemption is the story of Andy DuFresne (Tim Robbins), a successful banker who is wrongfully accused of murdering his adulterous wife and her lover (based on strong circumstantial evidence) and is then subsequently given two life sentences to serve at Shawshank Prison-- run by the mean and authoritative Warden Samuel Norton (Bob Gunton)-- after being found guilty. The clever and mathematically inclined Andy, who enjoys classical music, literature, and geology, initially struggles with life in prison. For the first few years, Bogs (Mark Rolston) and a gang of inmates known as "The Sisters" sexually assault him, the guards treat him harshly, and he is viewed as being shy and weak. However, after befriending Ellis Boyd "Red" Redding (Morgan Freeman), an older inmate who's known for skillfully obtaining illegal contraband, helping the Captain of the Guards Byron Hadley (Clancy Brown) with his taxes in exchange for more library space and free beers for the prisoners while they work outside, and having Bogs and his men beaten and vacated from the penitentiary, Andy's luck starts to change. In addition to Red obtaining a rock hammer (to build a collection of small chessmen) and posters of Rita Hayworth, Marilyn Monroe, and Raquel Welch for him, Andy becomes a popular individual and helping-hand around the institution. He begins assisting librarian Brooks Hatlen (James Whitmore), aids the guards with their spring taxes, and brings a spirit of life into the prison that had not existed there before him. However, when Norton forces Andy into solitary confinement on several occasions, exploits him for money laundering purposes, and ignores the testimony of a younger prisoner, Tommy Williams (Gil Bellows), who has proof of Andy's innocence, Andy begins to ruminate about hope, freedom, and his current predicament. Will he or Red ever really be able to escape this place? 

This film has many strengths. In terms of its acting, both Robbins and Freeman give superbly realistic and sympathetic performances. However, the real excellency of this film is its story. Poignant, unpredictable, and inspiring, The Shawshank Redemption captures not only what it's like to be literally incarcerated, but also spiritually incarcerated as well. Andy DuFresne represents the imperfect, yet perseverant everyday human being. Unfortunately, as this movie suggests, reality can be extraordinarily cruel and unfair, consuming and/or destroying what it wants when it wants it at its own will. Such is the case with Andy, who, after being wrongfully accused and given a life sentence, spends his first few years in prison getting beaten, raped, and verbally assaulted. However, there are several other moving themes imbued in this film that oppose the idea that nature is solely brutal and ugly; namely, the themes of hope and friendship. For instance, Andy is not physically the most powerful person at Shawshank Prison, yet his quick thinking and resourcefulness, intelligence, and affability allow him to tolerably endure the plight that he's in. By that same token, Red survives the predicament he's in because his skill of obtaining illegal contraband allows the other inmates to lead more bearable lives in prison. 

One idea that The Shawshank Redemption seems to cater to is an idea that I'm sure we're all familiar with: "Misery loves company." However, I don't believe that this movie is directly suggesting that misery loves company, but rather that it accepts it. That being said, sometimes company, if it's powerful enough, can reduce or even destroy misery, but what misery ultimately loves (or at least desires) is hope, and there is one scene in this movie that evocatively represents that. Put in charge of the warden's office and provided with the opera The Marriage of Figaro, Andy locks the door and plays the record on Norton's public address system for all of the prisoners in the yard to hear. He is put in solitary confinement for a month, and when he gets out, the other inmates ask him how he stayed sane for so long. Andy replies that during confinement, the sound of Mozart's music playing in his head was something he knew the guards couldn't take away from him. This segues into a conversation about hope, and Red tells Andy to avoid thinking about it since it's a "dangerous thing" that'll "drive a man insane." In real life, I'm sure we all, at one point or another, could agree with Red. For instance, when we consider the topic of human mortality, an inevitability we are all cursedly aware of, we sincerely hope that there is something better on the "other side" (be it reincarnation or a blissful afterlife, etc.), but, ultimately, we don't know, and sometimes it really does drive some of us insane. However, that is not to say it should. Aristotle believed that death was either a "ceasing to exist" or "the soul's transmigration" to a different state of being, and if that puts your worries to rest, then so should the adage "Hope is a good thing, and no good thing ever dies" that Andy posits through voice-over later in the film. 

SPOILER ALERT: The following paragraph gives away important plot information. If you've not seen this movie and wish to see it, refrain from reading further. Otherwise, read on at your own risk. 

The other scene that gloriously represents the issue of hope is one in which a character escapes from prison. During this sequence, we learn that the escapee has burrowed a hole through one of the prison cell walls and broken into a sewage drainpipe with a rock, using the booms and crackles of an incidental, nighttime thunderstorm to wash out the noise. What's particularly compelling about this scene, though, is its visual symbolism. To reach freedom, the escapee crawls through five hundred yards of excrement into a nearby stream. Exiting the drain, he stands with his shirt off and his arms in the air, reveling exaltedly in the deluge of rainfall, and the message of the story at this moment in the film is crystal clear to any viewer who is watching it: the greatest rewards sometimes require us to suffer tremendously. Of course, this shouldn't sound like a new concept to anyone, and throughout history, many anguished people have adhered to this philosophy, including Jesus Christ, the Egyptian Jews, and the African-American slaves.  While I do not personally believe that true solace can only be reached through agonizing persistence, it is uplifting to see the issue explored so beautifully in film.

Gracefully well written, well acted, and emotionally pulsating, The Shawshank Redemption is a treasurable tale that exemplifies the triumphant nature of the human spirit. There is a scene in which Andy remarks that you can either "get busy living, or get busy dying," and if the following line struck an inspirational chord with you as it did with me, then you should "get busy" watching this truly captive-ating film. 

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Eight

FAVORITE FILM NUMBER EIGHT: Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)

You find yourself transported through time, and 19th century London is where you arrive. You walk through the bustling streets of the city, gazing at all of the carriages, top hats, and textile mills. As you stop for a moment and gently rub your face, though, something catches your eye: a red-and-white-striped pole. It's a barbershop, and this piques your interest because you're in desperate need of a shave. However, if this establishment happens to be on Fleet Street, avoid it at all costs. Alleged homicide and cannibalism have been reported to have occurred there. Of course, you're in no real danger, for what I just described is really the fictitious, hilariously morbid subject matter of Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007).

Based on the similarly-titled Broadway sensation of the 1970s-- which was in turn inspired by the 1848 short story, A String of Pearls-- with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is the tale of a young barber, Benjamin Barker (Johnny Depp), who returns home to 19th century London after fifteen years of wrongful imprisonment by Turpin (Alan Rickman), a corrupt and salacious judge who had Barker banished to Australia so he could steal his beautiful wife, Lucy (Laura Michelle Kelley), and daughter, Johanna. Returning home with the help of a young sailor, Anthony Hope (Jamie Campbell Bower), Barker is a changed man--but not for the better. With a new ghostly complexion, the black and white hairdo of a skunk, heavy-bagged eyes, and a trusted razor blade in hand, Barker, now known as "Sweeney Todd," seeks vengeance upon Turpin and his groveling associate, Beadle Bamford (Timothy Spall). In doing so, he returns to his barbershop, which is located above a bakery belonging to Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter), and baits Turpin into getting a shave so he can slit his throat. However, when his initial attempt fails, Todd hatches a sinister (but ingenious) plan to help Mrs. Lovett's struggling business while cathartically dealing with his own feelings of vengeance, anger, and mistrust. Todd will slit the throats of his clientele and the bodies will be secretly used as a food source for Mrs. Lovett's pies. Meanwhile, a number of other complications occur. A former employee of his, Adolfo Pirelli (Sacha Baron Cohen), blackmails Todd, a young orphan boy, Toby Ragg (Edward Sanders), moves in with Mrs. Lovett, and Anthony, unbeknownst to Todd, becomes infatuated with the now-teenaged Johanna (Jayne Wisener), who is still under the guardianship of Turpin. As Todd continues to devise ways of luring Turpin back into his shop, various unforeseen obstacles and startling revelations throw off his ultimate, vengeance-driven goal. 

If what you've read above leads you to believe that this movie is just some miserable, gruesome horror-drama that pays homage to Soylent Green (1973) and Oliver (1968) while sternly addressing the morbid themes of human vengeance, anger, and violence, you are mistaken. The beauty--and lighthearted fun--of Sweeney Todd is that even though it's extraordinarily bloody, it's a gleefully campy black comedy with catchy, well-written musical numbers and rich visual imagery. Burton, who's known for casting Bonham Carter (his wife) and Depp in most of his movies and directing spooky, ghoulish stories with imaginative and expressive cinematography, brings his A-game here. From the very beginning of the movie, we are given the image of what we've come to expect of 19th century London, a filthy and corrupt metropolis blanketed under clouds of industrial smoke. The streets are dark and lonely, the air is coal-filled and dirty, and everything from the narrow and soot-covered cobblestone roads to the towering and chimney-topped, stone buildings have a drab, ashen appearance them. Despite the look of this crime and prostitution-filled, Dickensian world, though, the copious amount of blood and gore that Todd sheds from his victims is a joyful bright red that flows, splatters, oozes, and squirts freely. A guiltily enjoyable visual feast for the bloodlust-hungry viewer’s eyes, it is not the only appealing aspect of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. 

In addition, Depp and Bonham Carter are hilarious and entertaining to watch, and a strong Vaudevillian chemistry--represented by several outstanding scenes in the film--exists between the two of them as well. During one musical number, "The Worst Pies In London," the striped-outfit-wearing Mrs. Lovett, dough-roller in hand, elbow-greases her way through several gross-looking, bug-filled pies while spiritedly singing about the economic hardships of Victoria-era London. As she does so, though, Todd keeps attempting to but can't get a single word in.  One trademark feature of Burton's films is that he often contrasts bleak, pallid images of the present with luminous, rosy flashbacks and fantasy sequences, and during another musical number in Sweeney Todd, "By The Sea," that technique is used to great comical effect. While Lovett imagines an idyllic life with Todd and Toby down by the ocean, the sun is shining radiantly, the seawater is bright blue, and the grass is as lush and as verdurous as it will ever be, and yet Lovett and Todd are still dressed in their sooty Gothic outfits. Moreover, while Mrs. Lovett smiles as she daydreams, Todd has a snarling expression on his face-- an expression he maintains firmly throughout the film. This blaring dichotomy between the two characters is best exemplified by one scene in which Todd and Lovett sing "My Friends." Entranced, Todd gazes into his razor blades with a sense of reverent appraisal and gratitude. The brilliant light and burnished silver of the blades reflect a perverted, gleeful expression on Todd's face (the only gleeful expression we get from Todd in the entire movie). It is the look of a remorseless serial killer getting his twisted fix, narrowing in on it, and blocking out everything else from his line of vision. That "everything else" includes Mrs. Lovett-- whose unfocused reflection appears in the silver blades as well. While she is infatuated with him and is overtly expressing it, he is completely oblivious to her, infatuated only with the beautiful weapons in his hands. 

Sweeney Todd is gory, gruesome, and violent. If you absolutely hate blood and gore, avoid this picture. It's not for you. However, if you can stand blood and are a fan of stylistic, campy films that combine beautiful musical numbers with lavish cinematography, brilliantly charismatic performances, and irreverently hilarious black comedy, then Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is definitely a film worth viewing.  

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Seven

FAVORITE FILM NUMBER SEVEN: The Matrix (1999) 

Sometimes I wonder how quickly our society would collapse if all of the computer technology we created were to one day suddenly fail. It seems like a silly notion, but given how extraordinarily dependent we are on the seemingly infinite number of zero-and-one arrangements, microchips,  and algorithms that constitute most of our utilitarian lives, I think it is safe to say that we are "slaves to a machine." While many people may be skeptical about the particular issue that I just articulated, though, the Wachowski brothers (Andy and Lana) brilliantly explore it in their science-fiction/action-adventure cult classic, The Matrix (1999). 

The film, deeply embedded in ancient philosophical inquiry and religious symbolism, is the story of Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves), later given the alias "Neo," a listless office worker by day and computer hacker by night who is troubled by cryptic messages that continually reappear on his computer screen. Consistently uncertain about his state of consciousness, Thomas/Neo soon realizes that he is being pursued by three sinister, impersonal men who all wear neatly-pressed coat-and-tie outfits, sunglasses, and earplugs. Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving), the leader of these men, wants Neo to work for him and capture Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne), a supposed "terrorist" who, along with Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) and a ragtag group of other disparate individuals, wants Neo--whom they consider the "One"-- to join them in their fight against the "Matrix" (the subject of the messages that have been plaguing Neo's computer). Unplugged and released from a gooey, gelatin-filled pod, Neo is brought aboard Morpheus' ship, the Nebuchadnezzar, introduced to other crew members, including Trinity, Cypher (Joe Pantoliano), Apoc (Julian Arahanga), Dozer (Anthony Ray Parker), Tank (Marcus Chong), Mouse (Matt Doran), and Switch (Belinda McClory), and taught by Morpheus the various truths of the "Matrix." Morpheus explains that it is actually the year 2199 (instead of 1999), computers took over the world at the dawn of the 21st century, and that, in addition to growing human beings and using them for battery fuel, the Matrix has attempted to placate every person by plugging them into a virtual cyber world in which everything seems sensually real. Although Neo is initially frightened and skeptical, he soon must come to terms with reality and, under the guidance of Morpheus, Trinity, and the "Oracle" (Gloria Foster), a sentient computer program that resides in the Matrix and feeds "freed" humans foresight and wisdom, determine whether or not he's the "One" who will lead human beings to freedom. 

Immediately, this movie probably brings to mind several powerful ideas that have permeated Western thought: 17th century French philosopher Rene Descartes' revolutionary discovery, "Cogito Ergo Sum" ("I Think, Therefore I Am"), which can now be found emblazoned across any billboard or coffee mug, and the system of rationalism (or the belief that our senses may be deceiving us and that our minds are the only things we can trust) that it is based on, Plato's Allegory of the Cave, the "brain in the vat" theory, Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland, and the biblical story of Jesus Christ. However, The Matrix, which closely resembles other films that have also dealt with the theme of false realities and/or artificial intelligence (including, but not limited to: Blade Runner, Logan's Run, The Island, and Inception), addresses other philosophical ideas as well. In Meditations, Descartes, who averred that his test for knowledge would be done when what he knew he knew with "clarity and distinction," posed several other skeptical claims: his dreams could be copies of something real, whether or not he's dreaming, he is certain about simple, mathematical truths, God could be deceiving him about simple mathematical truths, and an evil demon/genius (instead of God) could be intentionally screwing with his senses. In regards to the latter, The Matrix (as it is monitored and protected by Smith and other Agents) is the "evil demon/genius" sent to destroy anyone who becomes aware of it. Similarly, what we might not know about Plato's Allegory of the Cave is that it doesn't simply detail that someone who climbs out of the darkness and into the bright light of the sun will be saved. It also details that when the person who climbs out of the cave climbs back into it and warns others, that person will be laughed at, met with disbelief, and then murdered. If this sounds familiar, it should. Any time you've ever heard the story of a martyred saint (Joan of Arc, for instance) or a person who felt uneasy when they saw a "crazy" homeless man with a sandwich board over his chest that read "The End Is Near," you were probably hearing a representation of that portion of Plato's Allegory, and in The Matrix, there is one moment that alludes to it as well. While training Neo to "free his mind" and defy certain laws of physics (i.e. leap across skyscrapers and avoid moving bullets), Morpheus explains that most human beings aren't capable of being "unplugged" because they've been part of the Matrix for too long and could never be convinced that anything outside of it exists. Moreover, there is even one character who trades in his freedom for the ignorant bliss of the Matrix. 

 What The Matrix is probably best known for, though (besides its philosophy and religious symbolism), is its revolutionary new style of action film choreography and cinematography. Paying homage explicitly and implicitly to Hong Kong martial arts pics, spaghetti westerns, and Japanese Anime films, The Matrix takes science-fiction explosions, gunfire, and hand-to-hand combat to a whole new level. What's introduced in The Matrix is "bullet-time" action. In other words, the camera can slow down and speed up, freeze, zoom in on and spin around certain characters, and it can even follow the path of a moving bullet in full focus. While this technique has been copycatted in many movies (including 300, Watchmen, Wanted, and V For Vendetta) since The Matrix, The Matrix was the one that set the standard for such impressive choreography and cinematography, and several scenes represent that. During one sequence (which, unfortunately, inspired the infamous Columbine shootings that occurred in April of 1999), Neo and Trinity storm a heavily-guarded building while dressed in trench coats. Stopped by an officer at a metal detector station and asked to "remove all metallic items," the two reveal their weapons and then, within a matter of moments, tear the entire columnated lobby into shreds. Considered by many to be the greatest action scene in film history, it is without a doubt one of the most remarkably well-executed works of choreography I've ever scene. The visual technique of "time-slicing," which allows the viewer to explore the progression of gunfire and the destruction of the scenery in slow-motion (while the camera appears to orbit around at normal speed), is utilized perfectly, and by the time Neo and Trinity are finished emptying out the lobby, they walk away cool and collected, like nothing ever happened. A few other important, visually-striking sequences worth noting include one in which a character bends backwards as bullets gracefully zip past him and another in which that same character leaps above a train (which is about to hit him) just in time. 

Why is The Matrix such a praise-worthy film? Because incites us to confront the issue of technological advancement and artificial intelligence? Possibly. More so, however, The Matrix is a praiseworthy film because it not only broaches the most profound, philosophical questions in human history, but it also does so with a stylistic, revolutionarily-choreographed BANG! If Plato and Rene Descartes could, I'm sure they would immediately leave their acropolis and fireplace (respectively), unplug themselves, join the Nebuchadnezzar, and "free their minds." 

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Six

FAVORITE FILM NUMBER SIX: American Beauty (1999)

I have a fun question for all of you readers out there: if you could live anywhere in the world, what type of place would you choose to live in? I know that some of you would choose the stimulating atmosphere of a concrete jungle (e.g. New York City, Chicago, or Hong Kong), while others would prefer something on the other end of the spectrum, like the quiet solitude of a rural countryside. Then, of course, there would always be that third group of people who enjoy what's couched between the rustic and the metropolitan: suburban, small-town America. In fact, I'm sure most people would prefer to live in the suburbs, given how greatly they've been romanticized. Despite the classic allure of the "white-picket fence,” though, suburbs are not always perfect worlds of cleanliness, conformity, and puritanical family values, and Sam Mendes' witty and facetious black comedy, American Beauty (1999), attests to that.

American Beauty, which pays homage to films such as Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard (1950), David Lynch's Blue Velvet (1986), and Stanley Kubrick's adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov's timeless novel, Lolita (1962), is the typical story of love, self-discovery, and family-togetherness...except for one thing: it's not. The movie, which opens with camcorder footage of a young teen half-heartedly asking her boyfriend to kill her father, follows the life of Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey) and his friends and family. Lester, who narrates the film from beyond the grave, is a 40some magazine-writer in the throes of a mid-life crisis. His marriage is stale and dispassionate, his realtor wife, Carolyn (Annette Benning), is a frigid perfectionist, his daughter, Jane (Thora Birch), is a typical disillusioned and insecure teenager whom he can barely speak with, and his unfulfilling job is run by sharply-dressed, calculating efficiency experts. However, Lester's dormant passion for living is suddenly reawakened when he lays eyes on Jane's girlfriend, Angela Hayes (Mena Suvari), a glowing, blonde-haired vixen. Enraptured by her nubile looks, Lester becomes a much more carefree, defiant, and outspoken individual. He quits his job, blackmails his boss, buys and begins smoking pot with his next-door neighbor, Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley), a resolutely individualistic 18-year old who dresses in all black and captures the hidden beauties of the world with his camcorder, purchases a Firebird without his wife's permission, and starts lifting weights in his garage so that he can impress Angela (whom he frequently fantasizes about). However, his aberrancy doesn't go unnoticed or unchecked, and as his wife and daughter begin to disapprove of his newfound persona, Ricky's authoritative and homophobic, marine colonel father, Frank Fitts (Chris Cooper) begins to suspect that his son is gay, and Carolyn begins an illicit relationship with Buddy Kane (Peter Gallagher), the real-estate "king" whom she idolizes, things start spiraling out of control more and more quickly until an eventual act of violence occurs.

What’s very peculiar about American Beauty is that the title of the film nearly contradicts the subject matter of the actual story, except it doesn’t. The sheer brilliance, originality, and poignancy of the film is that it challenges our dogmatic, pre-conceived notions of beauty while illustrating the complexity of the concept. During one famous scene of the film, Ricky shows Jane a video of a plastic bag (in front of a brick wall) that gracefully floats in the wind. While Ricky sentimentally describes the experience he had taping the bag, the wistfulness in his voice grows, and we realize soon enough that we aren't just seeing another mixed-up, drug-dealing teenager with a camera. We're seeing a human soul-- paralyzed by the extraordinary aesthetic power of what many consider to be frivolous and insignificant-- bearing its true self upon the world.  What American Beauty seems to suggest is that the transcendental pulchritude of the world isn’t simply found in breathtaking landscapes or celestial vistas. It’s also found in the seemingly innocuous particulars of everyday life: the tiny blades of grass that grow in our front yards, the droplets of rain the patter on our windows, or the plastic bags that blow in the wind. That being said, American Beauty remains entertainingly fresh by also not condemning our standard, culturally influenced views of beauty either, and several scenes attest to that as well. During one scene, Lester--completely transfixed-- fantasizes that he is inside a gymnasium all by himself watching Angela, in her cheerleading outfit, seductively tease him (before she opens her zippered coat and a profusion of red rose petals float towards us), and during another one, similar to the first one, Lester fantasizes about Angela-- covered in a sea of rose petals--lying naked on his bedroom ceiling. The film also benefits greatly from its superb acting, especially on the part of Kevin Spacey, who delivers a stirring, yet at the same time, playfully charismatic performance, and its cinematography. The contrast between luminous views of suburbia and all of its neatly manicured lawns and tree-lined streets, grainy, black-and-white camcorder footage, and ethereal dream sequences (in which abundances of red rose petals inundate the scenery) is a wondrous feast for the eyes.

However, the story is what primarily attributes to the excellency of this film and the sharp writing and piquant black humor add to its panache. American Beauty weaves in the themes love, family, friendship, homosexuality, drug use, and death while primarily driving home the message that the sterile appearance and monolithic homogeny of small-town America cannot alleviate the agitations of the human spirit. No better example of this can be given than a scene in which Lester wakes up languidly and, from beyond the grave, narrates that “this is my life” and that “I’m dead already.” Later, Carolyn exhibits a similar display of spiritual despair when she fails to sell a house. After all the prospective buyers leave, Carolyn, alone in the respective home, shuts the curtains and begins sobbing heavily. She slaps herself several times, attempting to regain her composure, and what’s clear is that Carolyn’s frustration isn’t driven by a desire to escape the ennui of everyday life. Instead, her frustration is driven by a desire to reach a sublime, quixotic state of flawlessness, perfection, and success. When the desires and frustrations of Lester and Carolyn (respectively) clash, though, we are given a startling vicious, yet penetratingly hilarious, vision of marriage, family life, middle-age malaise, and all of the turmoil that accompanies it, and one particular scene attests to that as well. In one scene, Lester and Carolyn get in a huge argument in front of Jane at the dinner table. However, this isn't your traditional argument where people scream at each other until hoarse. This is the type of argument where Lester and Carolyn are boxers in a ring or soldiers on a battlefield, volleying catapult projections at one another. In many ways, Lester and Carolyn are very similar to George and Martha from Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and the stylistic way in which they exchange venomous insults--broken up several times by Lester importuning someone to "pass [him] the asparagus"-- is what adds to the funny, yet unsettling atmosphere of the scene.

A hauntingly beautiful, well-acted, and crisply-written story with a range of moods—from acidic and morose to playful and sad, American Beauty is definitely worth a “closer” look. 

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Five

FAVORITE FILM NUMBER FIVE: A Place In The Sun (1951)

A few days ago, a college professor of mine posited these two questions: "Is there a middle class in the United States? If so, what is the middle class?" Most students responded that the middle class consists of anyone who isn't exceedingly wealthy or wretchedly poor. While some may say nowadays that the notion of classes in general has become an egalitarian (perhaps even non-existent) concept, in the recent past social stratification was an extraordinarily important, and often times crushing, inflammatory concept. Of course, it isn't an issue unique to the United States. As far back as civilizations go, there have always been divisions between the "haves" and "have-nots," and  socialists Karl Marx and Frederich Engels articulated that in their benchmark 1848 work, The Communist Manifesto. Accordingly: in the days of of ancient Greece and Rome, there were masters & slaves and patricians & plebeians (respectively). In the middle ages, there were lords/aristocrats & serfs, and following the French Revolution of 1789, there were what Marx labeled the bougeois and proletariat (middle and working class, respectively). Marx, who predicted that this type of dialectic (conflict-driven) materialism would eventually bring about a revolution by the "working class" that would result in a communal society without private property, didn't foresee the chafing attitudes about society and life that his work would elicit in people. The merciless, cutthroat pursuit of wealth, comfort, and success is not without a dark side, and some people have even been corrupted into forfeiting for lives and morals just for a shot at the "American Dream," a theme compassionately portrayed in George Steven's 1951 romantic crime drama, A Place In The Sun.

Based on Theodore Dreiser's 1925 novel, An American Tragedy, which influenced the similarly-titled stage and film adaptation by Paul Kearney and Joseph von Sternberg in 1926 and 1931 (all mediums, names, and years respectively addressed), A Place In The Sun was inspired by the true story of Grace Brown, a poor female factory worker in 1906 New England who drowned in a lake and was considered an alleged homicide victim. In this particular story, Montgomery Cliff  plays George Eastman, the humble and complacent nephew of a rich factory owner. Despite his relationship to "Mr. Eastman" (as he addresses him), George is treated unfairly, excluded from his uncle's social circle and given the most inferior job at his factory. However, George doesn't complain, only wishing to impress his uncle and eventually scale his way up the social ladder. Things get complicated, though, when George becomes romantically involved not only with Alice "Al" Trip (Shelley Winters), a poor female factory worker who labors alongside him, but also Angela Vickers (Elizabeth Taylor), a wealthy "society girl." When Alice becomes pregnant, George, who enjoys a lavish and intoxicating, carefree lifestyle with Angela and her family at their lakeside home, faces an excruciatingly inescapable dilemma: abandon Alice, a poor and expecting mother, for a life his kin never let him experience, or stay with Alice and live a life of inevitable poverty.

I will admit: this wasn't a film I was absolutely in love with at first (or watched over and over again like some of my other favorites). It was a film I appreciated for its subject matter, which, like many other films of the 1950s (including Douglas Sirk's "All That Heaven Allows" [1955] and George Stevens's later adaptation from literature, "Giant" [1957]), dealt with rigid social lines and class tension. However, when the film picked up pace and George realized the predicament that he was in, the story sank into me like razor sharp fangs. The acting by Cliff, Winters, and Taylor is superb, and the complexities of their respective characters can be viscerally experienced in every second and every frame of the film. During one nighttime party scene, a close-up, softly-lit view of George and Angela melting into each other's arms while slowly rocking back and forth on the dance floor gives us an immediate sense of George's struggle. He's been an obedient and optimistic, hardworking man his entire life. However, that is not to say he enjoys being that way. Like many people would probably agree, toiling endlessly in a factory for little pay and a life in the shadows is not usually a glorious experience. Being in the arms and heart of the beautiful and wealthy Angela must therefore be a huge breath of fresh air for George. We as an audience, who have most likely experienced proverbially similar, Sisyphean moments of suffocation and relief, can definitely empathize with him.

SPOILER ALERT: although it is not my intention, the following two paragraphs may give away important plot information. If you haven't seen the movie and wish to see it, avoid reading further. If you have seen it or aren't concerned about reading possibly important plot information, read on at your own risk.

Similarly, in another scene that highlights the painfully believable performances of the main characters (this time Cliff and Winters), George and Alice slowly paddle their way across a shimmeringly silver, moonlit lake. George, who'd been originally planning on quietly murdering Alice via drowning her in the lake, is having second thoughts. As Alice obliviously confesses her plans for the future, we see the look on George's face. It is a heavy expression of disappointment and internal human anguish. Although he's teetering on the brink of complete spiritual relinquishment, George, who slouches forward and barely skims the water with his oar blades, remains stoic, perseverant, and penitent. It's like watching a gambling addict trying to remain dignified after losing his life savings to one roll of the die or one nose of the winning horse. George, facing the music, looks up at Alice, and just as she begins to perceive the wavering emotions he's having and the predicament he's experiencing, an accident occurs!

The final strength of this film is its writing (courtesy of Dreiser, Harry Brown, and Michael Wilson). For instance, George, whose shrewdness has been clouded by an overwhelming sense of nervousness, checks out a boat on the lake, gives the keeper a false name, and then, sensing that the man doesn't buy his story (or name for that matter), suspiciously asks him if anyone else is on the lake (even though it's nighttime and clearly no one is). This incident, plus an earlier one in which a bus driver witnesses George and Alice arguing loudly (as well as a later one in which, after the lake accident, George, shaken and disoriented, washes ashore and startles a group of campers), help foreshadow George's inadvertent downfall and eventual legal condemnation. Another example of the superb writing is represented by a scene in which Alice tells George that the Eastman's "are in a different boat than you and I," a brilliant use of foreshadowing.

A powerful, well-acted, and influential film that broached many uneasy topics of the time, A Place In The Sun deserves its place there as well.

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Four

FILM NUMBER FOUR: Pulp Fiction (1994)

Ever since the birth of storytelling, cultures have always tried to dictate what English, theater, film, and art professors label a story's "form and content." In fact, during the ancient fifth century B.C. in Athens, Greece, Aristotle, in his iconic work, Poetics, explicitly and inflexibly detailed a number of different instructions for creating a well-told story (in the only way he knew how)-- among many other things: the three-part structure, the gravity and catharsis of tragedy, and the absolute taboo it was to show a flawless hero remaining a flawless hero, a villain remaining a villain, and/or a villain changing into a hero. From Aristotle's time onward, every Western country and culture, from the Franks and the Visigoths in the medieval world to the United States in the 21st century, haven't swayed far from his example. However, there also have been those who have. For anyone who's ever been acquainted with the works of Luis Buñuel, Jean-Paul Sartre, or Eugene Ionesco, it can undoubtedly be concluded that stories need not be conventional in order to sell an audience. Similarly, in terms of their structures, they need not be linear. Some start in the middle and and then jump to the beginning or end, others start at the end and move in reverse, some take place entirely within a flashback, some even parallel two different events or present a single event from multiple perspectives, etc., etc. In the case of Quentin Tarantino's brilliant gangster drama/comedy, Pulp Fiction (1994), the story unfolds in a non-linear, fragmented, chapter-oriented way. 


Known for his wild and prolific taste in music and movies (and the abundant use of and allusions to both throughout his series of films), his remorseless taste for gruesome, campy violence, and his ensemble casts, Tarantino, whose film before Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs (1992), was his debut work, has risen to the top tiers of Hollywood throughout the past 19 years. His archive of eccentric, self-referential action/crime movies, from the Kill Bill series to Inglorious Basterds, have outlandishly amused audiences. However, all of the creative glory he's achieved over those years is due mainly to Pulp Fiction, his watershed, tour-de-force masterpiece. 


Pulp Fiction, which engages the audience with flippant and snappy, hip dialogue, is the story of three stories. Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson) are suave, tuxedo-wearing assassins sent to retrieve the briefcase (the cryptically-conceiled contents of which emit an enrapturing golden glow) that belongs to as Los Angeles crime lord, Marcellus Wallace (Ving Rhames). While Vincent is dealing with the jitters of taking out Marcellus' wife, Mia (Uma Thurman), for the evening (upon Marcellus' request) and Jules is obsessively dealing with a religious wake-up call, two other stories unfold. One concerns Butch Coolidge (Bruce Willis), a brash, hot-headed boxer--paid to take a dive in a match--who's devoted towards the protection of a special golden watch, and the other concerns two foul-mouthed, cockney-accented bandits, Ringo (Tim Roth), A.K.A. "Pumpkin," and Yolanda (Amanda Plummer), A.K.A. "Honey Boney," fixed on sticking up a diner. The cast also includes a number of other prominent actors, including (but not limited to) Harvey Keitel, Christopher Walken, Rosanna Arquette, and Quentin Tarantino himself, and their characters are just as unique and memorable as the main ones. 


The movie, which has remained a ubiquitous source for pop culture references, parodies, and college-campus poster sales since its release seventeen years ago, is revered mostly for its lively, imaginative dialogue and meta-cinematic allusions. Most people probably have heard dozens of friends or acquaintances reference the infamous "breakfast" scene, in which Jules discusses hamburgers and the metric system, and then recites the a passage-- Ezekiel 25:17-- from the Bible before executing a man. Likewise, an earlier scene, in which Jules and Vincent casually banter about the frivolous differences between European and American fast-food restaurants, has become a memorable moment in cinematic history and American pop culture. 


However, the film is also known for its plethora of witty, subtle allusions to films of any and all genres (especially Western, Martial-Arts, and Classic Hollywood). The opening sequence, in which Pumpkin and Honey Bunny devise a scheme to rob patrons directly, pays homage to Edward S. Porter's 1903 short, The Great Train Robbery. In another scene, Vincent blows Mia a kiss a la Jimmy Stewart's character--George Bailey--in Frank Capra's It's A Wonderful Life (1946), and, in reference to Alfred Hitchcock's famous horror film, Psycho (1960), there is one scene in the movie when two characters--one walking along a crosswalk and the other driving up to it--exchange incredulous looks (before the latter slams into the former with his car). The list of homages goes on and on, and if you have ever heard of Federico Fellini's 8 1/2 (1963), Robert Aldrich's Kiss Me Deadly (1955), Michael Cimino's The Deer Hunter (1978), Elia Kazan's On The Waterfront (1954), Mike Nichols' The Graduate (1967), or Martin Scorcese's Taxi Driver (1976), you can rest assured those films probably inspired or were referenced in Pulp Fiction as well. In addition to cinematic allusions, Tarantino also makes great use of an eclectic soundtrack, including such diverse hits as Dick Dale and the Del Tones' "Misirlou" (which memorably begins the opening credits of the film), Al Green's "Let's Stay Together," and Neil Diamond's "Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon." 


One of the final strengths of Pulp Fiction is its use of absorbingly off-color humor. During one sequence of the movie, a woman who experiences a heroin overdose is in quick need of an adrenaline shot. Although she could almost die (and the panic-striken date of this woman is frighteningly aware of that) when he finally rushes her--not to an emergency room--but a friend's home, everyone is clueless, scrambling around the cluttered home looking for a syringe like it's a lost set of car keys, and then casually arguing about how many times you need to "stab" the victim in the chest to revive her. During another sequence, two characters accidentally blow off a guy's head, and hilariousness ensues as they must find a way to clean the blood and gore out of the vehicle in time. 


Pulp Fiction, an inventive, original, and superbly entertaining hit, deserves its place in the ranks of great American works of art. Although it is more stylized and less tame and conventional than the traditional works of Hollywood, it still conforms to the genius of that particular industry. 

10 Favorite Films of Mine; Review/Critique Three

FILM NUMBER THREE: Kick-Ass (2010) 


I was never a really a fan of superheroes and comic books. I enjoyed the cinematography and choreography of and raw performances in Sam Raimi's Spider-Man series and Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight, but other than those few blockbusters, something about the capes, kryptonite, and colossal villains just didn't do it for me. That was of course until I saw Kick-Ass (2010), a wild and extravagant, irreverently violent and profane send-up of superhero movies, TV shows, and comic books.

In Kick-Ass, based on the comic book of the same name by Mark Millar and John Romito Jr., a young, ordinary and unnoticed high school student, Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson), decides one day out of boredom-fueled altruistic desires to become a real-life superhero. Throwing on a green, yellow-striped wet suit and mask, grabbing two batons, and giving himself the alias "Kick-Ass," he hits the streets, hoping to take down small time thugs and criminals. However, his plans get complicated when he becomes unintentionally mixed up with a professionally-trained father-daughter duo-- Damon McCready (Nicholas Cage) and 11-year old Mindy McCready (Chloe Grace Moretz)-- who moonlight as Big Daddy and Hit-Girl (respectively). Big Daddy, who dresses  in all black (almost identical to the dark knight himself), and Hit-Girl, who dons an all purple suit and paige wig, are after Frank D'Amico (Mark Strong), a lucrative Italian mob boss who once had Damon (an ex-cop) framed & imprisoned and his wife indirectly murdered. Not only that, but Frank's 17-year old son, Chris D'Amico (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), further complicates matters when he poses as "Red Mist," a sports-car-driving, fake crime fighter with a frizzled wig and a crimson leather suit, and becomes associated with Kick-Ass. Soon Dave finds himself in over his head and his boyhood fantasy suddenly spinning out of control into a brutally violent nightmare.

The reason why I praise this movie so highly doesn't so much have to do with its theme of superheroes as it does with the reason why such figures have been admired throughout human history. In the olden day it wasn't Batman, Superman, or Iron Man that excited people. Theseus, Perseus, Herakles, Jason, Odysseus, and Achilles dominated Ancient Aegean literature; Lancelot and Perceval did likewise for the chivalrous, Celtic world of the Dark Ages.Today, the tradition continues, and so the transhistorical question remains: why do people idolize such characters? Obviously, the reason should come as no surprise: those who passively exist from day to day, eking out a living in a quietly desperate job while cowering under the oppressive weight of bills, bosses, and rocky relationships, want to escape. They want to see a fully-realized, consummate version of themselves; not just in swashbuckling, gun-toting, gravity-defying action figures (like Zorro, Jason Bourne, James Bond, and Jack Sparrow, just to name a few), but also in plain, everyday individuals... the people that have the strength to make the right or useful decision at the right moment in time. Kick-Ass, flagrantly self-deprecating and self-referential, not only caters to the motif of the fantastical, romantic allure of larger-than-life heros, but also the darker and more dangerous side of real-life super-heroism; i.e. what would really happen if an average person with no proper skills or coordination threw on a cape, donned a mask, and went out into the street to fight crime This is not a new theme as well, and some many may regard Kick-Ass as simply an updated version of Miguel Cervante's 16th century novel, Don Quixote (just replace the delusional, iron-clad knight with a delusional teenage "superhero"). Also, while this has not been the first film to satirize the superhero/comic book genre and present ordinary, untrained individuals as vigilantes  ("Mystery Men" did so in 1999, "Special" did so in 2006, and "Defendor" did so in 2009), Kick-Ass is the one that has done so with the greatest amount of entertainingly over-the-top, unpredictable eccentricity. The exciting and amusingly lurid beauty of Kick-Ass can be found in the colorful acting of all of the major characters (especially Chloe Grace Moretz and Nicholas Cage), John Murphy's unique, lively score, filled with taut and suspenseful, electrifyingly dramatic and sensational, propulsive and dynamic, invigorating, awe-inspiring, and even, at times, doleful pieces, and the bright and saturated, pop-art-style cinematography (intended to mirror the campy look of a comic strip panel). A nod to director Matthew Vaughn, who mixes the gritty appeal of "Layer Cake" with the fantastical style of "Stardust," is also well-deserved.

Moreover, Kick-Ass also benefits superbly from its share of zanily comedic moments. The movie opens with a fully-outfited "superhero" on top of a skyscraper, spreading his mechanical wings and leaping off. Instead of swooping into the air and impressing the group of bedazzled, onlooking spectators, though, he simply crashes into a taxi cab below. Additionally, the irony of Nicholas Cage's character training his pink-and-purple loving, Polly Pocket-sized tween-aged daughter to fight, kill, cuss like a sailor, and take bullets to the chest (while wearing a protective vest) contribute to irreverently humorous moments as well. While many people may (understandably) scorn the above and view it as being exploitive or tasteless, Vaughn is very careful never to portray Mindy/Hit-Girl in a manipulative, abusive, or sexualized manner (any more than Jodie Foster's character in "Taxi Driver" or Natalie Portman's character in "The Professional"). However, Kick-Ass isn't simply a lighthearted, goofy spoof, and while many movies and TV shows (such as Airplane, Naked Gun, and Seinfeld) benefit from breezy, idiosyncratic humor, Kick-Ass moves to the beat of a different drum. It flexibly and gracefully combines, blends, and shifts back and forth between moments of hysterical comedy, adrenaline-pumping action, and even earnest, tearjerking tragedy, and several scenes demonstrate that.

SPOILER ALERT: the next two paragraphs give away important plot information. If you haven't seen this movie and wish to see it, refrain from reading further. Otherwise, read on at your own risk.

During a live, torture/execution scene, a city of viewers (in front of their TV sets and computers) watch in shock and disgust as the two respective captives-- each chained to a chair next to one another-- are brutally victimized by batons, baseball bats, and "knuckle-dusters," are doused in kerosine, and then are almost burnt to a crisp. The scene, uncannily reminiscent to the ear-cutting sequence in Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, may certainly make many people wince. While it is more stylized and less squeamishly realistic than...oh, let's say the fingernail-pulling scene in the 2005 film Syriana (in which, coincidentally, Mark Strong administers the torture), though, it is still difficult to watch. However, the particular brilliance of this scene, besides the haunting score and seamless, fast-paced editing, is the way in which, much like the viewers in the movie itself, we watch in disgust and awe as well. While the goons gleefully lay into their victims and address the unseen viewers (who are most likely comic-book-loving children) in a humorously patronizing and cautionary, yet disturbingly casual way (making such remarks as "Kerosine...the silent killer," and "[flicking a lighter] This, for all you cavemen out there, is fire."), one of the character squirms, pleads for his life, and fatalistically (through voice-over) narrates to us, the villain laughs at their predicament, and we sit there in a state of frozen curiosity, guiltily unable to pull our eyes away. It's a rudely truthful yet creatively momentous reflection on a society deeply engulfed and infatuated with seemingly harmless, glamorously-portrayed violence. However, Vaughn is not simply delivering the conventional grade-school message that "violence is bad" and TV shows/movies desensitize us to it (as what might have been the case when linking the 1999 Columbine shootings with the infamous, "trench coat" lobby scene in The Matrix). Rather, he's depicting how cushy, 21st century technology-- especially television and YouTube--isolates us from the true unbearableness of violence.

The other scene that stands out in Kick-Ass is the one that immediately follows the above scene. As the goons spark up a lighter and the onlooking viewers prepare to watch their beloved captives experience a horrendously slow, excruciatingly incendiary death, a bullet rips through the executioner's skull. It is the type of viscerally cathartic moment that caters to our human desire for justice and our western storytelling desire to see good guys be saved. As the lights in the torturers' warehouse explode into a fountain of sparks of glass shards and the onlookers TV/web viewers react with complete catatonic shock, the room turns pitch black and falls into a state of thunderous silence. Suddenly, the scene erupts into an explosively loud, scintillating firefight . A fusillade of rapid gunfire illuminates the room like sparklers in the night sky, and--through the first person perspective of night-vision goggles--Hit Girl scurries about the room, skillfully snuffing out every goon she can with a pistol and a dagger. The background score then immediately switches from an aggressive and galvanizing tone to a dramatic, heavy, and melodious one. With one flick of the lighter, Big Daddy erupts into flames, and it becomes a race against the clock to save him. Flawless edited, the sequence that follows is filled with the best use of strobe-lighting since Titanic (1997), the best acting by Nicholas Cage since Leaving Las Vegas (1995), and the most realistic portrayal of painfully resilient and sacrificial parental love since the stampede scene in the animated film The Lion King (1994).

Irreverent, crass, campy, and extraordinarily violent and profane, Kick-Ass is not for the diffident viewer. However, it's a gem of comedy, action, and tragedy that lets its viewers indulge in the glamor of superheroes, crime-fighters, and vigilantes just as often as it cautions us against ever wanting to become one. Outlandish, creative, and original, Kick-Ass does just that.