Curtain Call For Baltimore: The Wire

With David Simon's series "The Wire" coming to a close on HBO earlier this year, thus ends one of television's most intriguing and sweeping examinations of an urban American city ever put on the screen (big or small). The verisimilitude it captured- from street level dealers to the corridors of city hall and back- was risky yet it paid huge dividends to its audience, refusing to give any establishment the short end of the stick and remaining intelligent throughout. At times iconic towards its city and many other times embarrassing, "The Wire" was certainly not condescending and I imagine any city in America would've been proud to hold the framework for this fine series. It landed its share of black eyes, but also commended the unique, hard working and diligent individuals within its concrete jungle whether they were crooks, cops, politicians, teachers, dock workers, news writers or bartenders. And above all, "The Wire" understood that these individuals create and give life to the city that it celebrates. You could find wisdom, honor and intelligence in the lowliest of the low and the highest of the high. It had a story to tell each season, of course, but the truth was always in the details and I'm glad that creator Simon was able to allow some people to make it out alive as the curtain fell on Baltimore.

My own personal introduction to "The Wire" came later than some. During the initial airing of Season 3 on HBO, I decided to rent the first disc of Season One and give it a chance. From that first viewing, I was hooked. I think the hook came in a relatively early scene when a drug addicted homeless man named Bubbles (Andre Royo, who would eventually become the graceful figure of redemption in the series and discussed later) was giving undercover police a lesson in how to infiltrate the drug-ridden ghettos of Baltimore's western side. As an undercover cop was gloating on how prepared he was for his deceptive mission on the street, Bubbles quickly pointed out that he was still wearing his wedding ring. A junkie would've already sold the ring for cash. Then Bubbles looked at the cop's sneakers and chided them for not being beaten up enough. A real homeless man would have glass shards and broken vile glass all over his shoes from walking in the streets everyday. A simple observation yes.... but one that echoes the resilient truth in every episode of "The Wire" and one that most cop shows ignore or gloss over. There was always plenty of time for these natural observations in "The Wire" and it made me feel vindicated that I was watching something very close to the truth.

Season One concentrated on the Baltimore drug trade, building an intricate network of dealers, pushers, young kids and devoted cops on Baltimore's western side. The long streets with dilapidated brownstones and short steps out front became the central locale. I have to admit... these images of the brownstones throughout all five seasons of "The Wire" remains the most prescient image in my mind... so much so that when I recently visited Baltimore and we took a wrong turn outside of downtown Baltimore and ended up on one of these identical streets, my heart jumped a little at seeing something in person that had been manufactured continually on-screen. Season Two alternated its locale, jumping from the urban environment to the Baltimore port where a canister of dead Eastern European women turns up on their dock. It may've seemed like a bold move since Season One concluded with a host of loose ends, but it was yet another example of "The Wire" jettisoning the normal expectations of serial television and re-iterating that not everything ends in justifiable measures. Like life, things are messy and unfulfilled. Season Three strayed back to the unfinished business of Season One as the cops re-open their investigation on street level drug pushing. Then, Season Four pulled what could be called the series most effective coup. The cops and drug dealers were pushed to the background and the city's school system and political machine were thrust to the fore front. With the introduction of councilman Carcetti (Aidan Gillan) "The Wire" traded in its brilliant observations of police procedure and morphed into one of the most telling depictions of political campaigning I've ever witnessed. If you get your jones watching obscure documentary features on the political process ("Our Brand Is Crisis", "The War Room" or Downey Jr's "The Last Party"), then Season Four definitely should hold rank in your viewing queue. Besides the political arena, Season Four spotlighted a group of young boys growing up in the ghetto and faced with a collapsing economic school system. Perhaps the smartest aspect of Season Four is showing exactly how urban environments gravitate certain individuals into a culture or lifestyle. These are all intelligent boys, but their options are limited. Season Four slowly exemplifies how even the brightest can turn towards bad choices. And it's in this season that "The Wire" explodes into something greater than serial television. It becomes social realism.

So where to go with Season Five? Back to the streets naturally. Integrated into yet another drug investigation (since the "crown" of the drug dealers is continually passed from weakest to strongest) is the inner-workings of the Baltimore Sun press. With a firm grasp of Baltimore politics in tow from the previous season, Mayor Carcetti faces a whole slew of corruption and back-stabbings within city halls. And then there's lead detective Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West) chasing a serial killer AND a drug kingpin. While Season Five is responsible for juggling three distinct story lines now, it also has the added pressure of satisfying its loyal fan base as the series comes to a close. With the onslaught of criticism and controversy about HBO's other David series (need I mention it?) "The Wire" faced a dicey path. And given the messiness of the series previous history, nothing was certain. Yet Season Five managed to etch out moments of grace and tenderness as each character (close to 50) slowly faded into the background of Baltimore's facade. Some will carry on duties as Baltimore's finest. Some will seek other opportunities and some will rise up to fill the bloody shoes of those lost in the concrete battleground of the brownstones. But, the lingering promise that the city is a little better now than when we found it is hard to shake. If nothing else, "The Wire's" heart and redemptive soul can be found in the lowly character of Bubbles. Situated on the precipice of drug addiction oblivion throughout most of the first three seasons, the last few episodes reveal him as a recovering addict slowly acclimating back into society. The final image of Bubbles, as he sits down to dinner with his sister and her little girl, instills an awesome feeling of complexity and finality to the series. Cases are opened and closed. Political favors are dispensed. Careers are bolstered and finished. But the ultimate experience of "The Wire" is soundly represented in the quiet character arch of this once homeless drug addict who has found a peaceful agreement with his life. Like the looming city of Baltimore- which receives a meditative succession of images from country to city in the closing moments- maybe the bad times are gone. Whatever happens, I'm extremely glad I was able to share in these experiences for over five years.

The Laugh Factory

Usually reserved for the dregs of summer blockbusters as a dumping ground akin to the month of February, something unusual has happened this month. Comedies are reigning supreme. First there was "Pineapple Express", followed these last two weeks by not one or two, but 4 comedies- "The Rocker", "The House Bunny", "Hamlet 2" and "Tropic Thunder". Maybe in some weird counter-programming move, the studios have decided that we need a lighter prospect before entering the drama-laden Oscar 'baiters' of September and October. Either way, I'm sure the dregs are still not far behind ("Babylon AD" anyone?).

Though I've yet to see "Hamlet 2", "The Rocker" or "The House Bunny" (which of the 3, only the comedic sexiness of Anna Faris appeals to me), I can say I was delighted and dumbfounded by the other two films mentioned. I loved one and disliked the other. In one corner, we've got the stoner buddy/action parody written by and starring the golden boy of modern comedy Seth Rogen, directed by one of my favorite quirky young independent directors and rolled out to the public by that oh-so popular Apatow camp. In the other corner there lies the broad, satirical meta-movie about film making that stars name brand faces, injects larger than life cameos and wears its smarmy in-jokes brazenly on its sleeve. "Pineapple Express" vs. "Tropic Thunder". And "Tropic Thunder" lands the knock-out blow, becoming the smartest and most enjoyable satire about movie-making since "Bowfinger" (I know... I know... I'm waaay in the majority in my praise for Oz's 1999 comedy but deal with it). So where did the "Pineapple Express" camp go so wrong and the "Tropic Thunder" crew rack up the laughs?



I think part of the problem with "Pineapple Express" lies in the fact that so much of its comedy stems from the fact that these are two guys getting high 65% of the time. It's not funny unless, gasp, maybe you are high. Certain scenes carry on for far too long (namely the first meeting between Rogen and Franco and the Danny McBride character, as well as any other McBride scene) and director David Gordon Green fails to exact any sense of timing in the jokes. "Pineapple Express" is a clear example of a comedy whose best parts are worn thin in the trailer. Outside of that, you're left with dialogue scenes that feel made up on the fly. This improvised feel has served other Apatow produced vehicles well, but in "Pineapple Express" it feels like filler for a comedy that lasts way too long and wears out its welcome. It may be fun to watch these guys freak out in a wooded area at night time if your high like them, but if your sober then the jokes on you. Taking the loosest framework of a plot- guys on the run from drug dealers- "Pineapple Express" is a schizophrenic mixture of stoner comedy and over-the-top action that fails to generate many laughs or thrills in either genre pastiche.

"Tropic Thunder" is just as rambling with the same loose sense of plot. But what holds that film together (outside of the gloriously funny details such as the "Simple Jack" poster which features the 'retarded' Jack happily chasing a butterfly with a hammer) are sharp moments of spoken dialogue, humorous reaction shots mostly from Robert Downey Jr. and an ensemble that understands when to cut the joke short. I certainly feel I owe "Tropic Thunder" a second viewing because I was laughing so hard over certain portions of dialogue that I missed some other comedic nuances. That's always the sign of a good comedy that hits its intended mark. Unlike "Pineapple Express" which loses steam in its characters laborious search for laughs, "Tropic Thunder" feels like a script (and a cast) who understand the natural climax of comedy. For my money, humor isn't found in watching the gears of an actor grind as he improvises on the fly (yes, looking at you Will Ferrell) but in carefully planned and reactionary comedy in which one line of dialogue progresses into another. In "Tropic Thunder", the laughs are precise and furious.


I wrote an earlier post about the degradation of good comedy and the infusion of the Will Ferrell style of generating laughs... comedies full of non-sequiter images and scenes that shuffle on for way too long (and which "The Family Guy" corners the market). "Pineapple Express" is a milder example of this new form of comedy, and if Seth Rogen and James Franco weren't so endearing and genuine in certain scenes, I fear "Pineapple Express" would hover even closer to the bottom of the comedy genre than it already does. That's a hard thing for me to say because so much of my personal favorite talents were involved in its creation. The hype factor very well may have killed the buzz, and in that regard, it was only a matter of time before a sharp, unassuming comedy like "Tropic Thunder" came along and blew me away much like "Bowfinger" did many years ago. Even now, thinking about the almost throwaway line of dialogue in "Tropic Thunder" where Downey Jr realizes that Nolte has hands, it makes me smile. That's the essence of good comedy- it continues to give long after the lights have gone up.

Shared Memories

Out of 436 photos taken with my trusty Sony Cybershot, I wanted to share a few of my favorites.

The original recording studio in Memphis (Sun studios) where everyone from Elvis Presley to U2 recorded songs. The tour starts upstairs where you're given a talking head spiel about the history of the studio with glass museum-like cases. 55 people were crammed tight into this small space, jockeying for photos and digital recordings. I noticed a small stairway at the back of the room and stood next to it, not wanting to get entangled with the crowd. The tour then takes its next step and goes downstairs into the actual recording studio, in which I was the first one into due top my (sharp!) observations. Four of five photos of uninterrupted snaps were taken and I felt a small victory as the rest of the losers stumbled downstairs.



The grave of Edgar Allen Poe tucked quietly inside a downtown Baltimore graveyard. Eerie and beautiful at the same time.



Babe Ruth's birth house and museum in downtown Baltimore. There's another picture of the original sale of receipt for Ruth from the Red Sox to Yankees that would melt a few Red Sox fans around here.



The awe-inspiring Camden Yards.



Overlooking Gettysburg. We walked for what seemed like miles around the battlefields, snapping random photos of everything. If you want a real sense of history, this is the place for you.



Part of the Vietnam wall memorial. A very moving experience.



The Capitol building. After seeing it up close, it is one of the most gorgeous looking buildings I can imagine. Movies and TV (of course) don't do the intricacies of the architecture justice.



JFK's gravesite.



And who is this guy throwing up the ubiquitious peace symbol on the steps of the Lincoln memorial? That's me... worn out and suffering from blisters on my feet for walking for 4 straight days. Highly enjoyable, though. I'll take the blisters in exchange for the sights and sounds my family and I experienced. And I decided I definitely want to retire in the area when the time comes. Driving through the small Pennsylvania town of Emmittsburg (where a majority of my dad's family was from) I made the decision. Beautiful country, temperatures in the lower 70's in late August- which I'm sure is just a fluke, but it still sold me- and laid back lifestyle. Who could ask for me. Nothing to do except enjoy life and write the great American novel.

Leave A Message at the Beep

It'll be quiet here for the next ten days or so as I roadtrip to the East Coast with family. I'll be in Washington DC for a few days, driving up to Baltimore for an Orioles-Red Sox game Tuesday night, visiting Pennsylvania and then back to DC. Needless to say, I'll need a vacation from my vacation. I fully expect the blog-o-sphere to continue on without me and I look forward to the 1200+ posts in my Google Reader when I return. Don't let me down!

Second String Actors: Paul Schneider

When I watched "Lars and the Real Girl" earlier this year, I fully expected to be somewhat blown away by Ryan Gosling's performance. I mean honestly, the guy made lawyer dreck like "Fracture" ultimately compelling and wholly watchable. What would he do with a juicy role like that? While I did enjoy Gosling and the movie itself, I was completely impressed by the supporting role of Paul Schneider as the brother to Lars- the older brother, settled with a pregnant wife, bound strictly by the social rules of engagement that hover over the snowy Midwestern town where "Lars and the Real Girl" takes place, and a character that desperately wants his brother to be normal when we all know that will never happen. Lars (Gosling) finds normality in other places. It's the perception of normality within Gus (Schneider) that drives a good majority of the film's emotional resonance. Schneider makes you genuinely feel for his character... the heartbreak at watching his brother carry on with a blow up doll as a real person drives him slowly up the wall, yet there's a sense of gracious acceptance towards the end of the film. Both brothers reach a certain point in their lives, and "Lars and the Real Girl" is just as much about Gus and his new family (wife and newborn) as it is about Gus, Lars and their lifelong relationship as brothers. It's what supporting characters are meant to do, and Schneider knocks it out of the park.

Thinking back, why was I so initially despondent about Schneider's performance? Here's a guy coming off a marvelous supporting turn in Andrew Dominic's "The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford" in which he not only holds his own during a startling shoot-out, but also manages to sway across the screen with southern charm as the outlaw ladies man (eventually bedding down with Gretchen Mol, which kindles the aforementioned gun fight). And before that, he served as the lay-about but well intentioned South Carolina male in David Gordon Green's "All the Real Girls" (2003) and more tangentially in his debut "George Washington" (2001). Of the two, "All the Real Girls" was Schneider's major introduction into the film making stratus. It's pretty hard not to get lost in the shuffle when you're acting opposite the lovely Zooey Deschanel (just ask Will Ferrell who she ran circles around in "Elf"), but Schneider manages to hold his own in "All the Real Girls", an emo love story that starts out in mid-croon as he declares his love for Noel(Deschanel) in a dilapidated alley and then turns sour as they deal with real life. Downbeat, yes, but still one of the very best films of its respective year and the film that launched both him and Zooey as viable independent (and now mainstream) faces. Some criticisms against Schneider in "All the Real Girls" revolved around his 'aw shucks' style of casualness, but it's this persona that fits so well around Gordon Green's penchant for inarticulate middle class youngsters. Schneider does hem and haw around most of the time, but he also lets loose with some primal emotions when the times comes around... and his reaction towards Noel's distancing feels perfectly characteristic of this type of inarticulate middle class youth. Instead of cloying, Schneider embodies most of his characters as truthful and sensitive. While the real Paul Schneider may be identical to his on-screen personifications and that similarity is off-putting to some (Tom Cruise, anyone?), Schneider makes it work.



Schneider has led a relatively quiet acting career until the last 2 years or so. After partnering with David Gordon Green on several short films and his debut in "George Washington", Schneider ventured outside the Green canopy in 2005 with supporting turns in Cameron Crowe's "Elizabethtown" and then "The Family Stone" (I guess I need to check this out now). But it wasn't until the one-two punch last year in the aforementioned Jesse James film and "Lars and the Real Girl" that Schneider's face (and Southern drawl) slowly began seeping into cinematic consciousness. Schneider took his career one step further when he stepped behind the camera to write and directed "Pretty Bird", a film which premiered at Sundance this year and received good reviews. It has yet to land a distribution deal, despite starring Billy Crudup and Paul Giamatti. This is only a natural progression since he wrote the screenplay with Green to "All the Real Girls", and shows incredible talent for dialogue and interaction.


We've already seen Schneider grow up, somewhat, on screen. From his scattershot youthfulness in "George Washington" to the worrisome older brother in "Lars and the Real Girl", it's been a quick seven years for Schneider. There is a moment in "Lars and the Real Girl" where he invites his younger brother to dinner with him and his wife. It's a simple scene with Gus (Schneider) prepared to accept his brother's declined invitation like most other nights. Instead, Lars accepts and wheels out his blow up doll. There's no words exchanged, only a glance between the two of them that suggests something deeper than words. Both actors handle it with understated gestures, but there's something very sad about the way Schneider hangs his head and looks at his brother. It's these little moments that hook me on an actor. And it certainly hooked me on Schneider.

Quick DVD Thoughts

Surfwise- One of the best documentaries to come along so far this year. Like "Capturing the Friedmans" or "Tarnation", Doug Pray's family expose goes to some pretty dark places and is present during some of their most joyous (such as a truly moving family reunion in Hawaii) moments. It's hard not to feel anxious for these kids, and even before I had any idea where this thing was headed, I found it psychologically perplexing that the children all referred to their father by his real name "Dorian", and not "dad".

Sleepwalking- Bill Maher's laborious indie drama is indicative of just how boring independent film has gotten. Dreary settings up north, yep. Emotionally stunted man child? Yes. Big actors taking small paychecks and financing the film? You got it. A journey of self discovery? Oh hell yes. All of this has been done before (and better) without Nick Stahl brooding in every scene and Charlize Theron portraying a lay-about mom who abandons her daughter.

21- Really surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Though I'm sure it's been dazzled up and invigorated with drama from the original story its based on- yes I watch the History channel- "21" is still brisk, sexy film making. Then again, I'm always a sucker for movies about Vegas. And Kate Bosworth.

The Notorious Concubines- More cinema weirdo from Koji Wakamatsu, this time taking place in feudal Japan as a king takes many wives, has orgies, and begins wars. It's actually not as fun as it sounds. Like Wakamatsu did with "Ecstasy of the Angels", this is really a mainstream pinku film where sex is substituted for actual narrative and reasoning. The blood is cheap, the action is even cheaper.. but I'm told it was a huge art house hit back in the late 60's. Go figure.

On "Doomsday" and Broader Themes

The first half of Neil Marshall's "Doomsday" is so fun and so full of creative homages that I almost forgive its second half. Almost. Clearly inspired and dedicated to the camp greatness of John Carpenter and George Miller, Marshall manages to plunder the best of their work in a genre-smashing event that begins like "Escape From New York", plays out like a more technically savvy "Resident Evil" and then falls flat into "Mad Max" territory without blinking. As the heavily armed government agent leading a team into the virus infected 'hot zone' of Scotland to find a cure, Rhona Mitra definitely takes the prize from Milla Jovovich as kick ass babe of the year. It's interesting how the film works backwards. We start out with armored vehicles, laser scoped automatic weapons, then degrade back to homemade machetes and rusted tools when the "marauders" arrive- which are only extensions of the wacked out heavy metalers in Carpenters "Ghosts Of Mars"- and finally end up in spear and arrow territory. Honestly, one could nitpick "Doomsday" apart, but Marshall has such an appreciation for genre (horror and now post-punk apocalypto) that its almost infectious.

But then things took a turn for the worse. My problem is not with "Doomsday" as a whole, but the nauseous way in which its increasingly complex action set pieces are filmed. Things happen in such wham-bam fashion, that I literally became dizzy trying to follow the action. It's as if Marshall felt unable to logically film an action sequence (or any action for that matter), over compensated by filming from three different angles, then scrambled the images together in an MTV state of aggression. We're given a simple action in one scene as a man approaches our heroin (Mitra) and raise his axe towards her. She dodges his advances and hits him in the stomach, running away. This seemingly straight forward action is piece together in 6 different angles, each one lasting a second or less. This drove me nuts. I'm sure Michael Bay has a rule about using any shots for more than one second, but director Marshall must have even less patience. I can take all the be headings and flesh eating virus moments in "Doomsday", but it's the savagery of the artistry that's truly disturbing.


So where did this begin... this action as splintered images? Slate writer Dennis Lim recently wrote a piece on cinema fist fights that charts the stylistic differences from the late 50's to today's treatment concerning this very manly way of settling things. While I would expect that aesthetic and stylistic choices would be vastly different, have we also lost something in the process? The first slide examined by Lim takes place in the 1958 western "The Big Country" in which two men are placed in the foreground as they duke it out. The last few slides look at films such as "Batman Begins" and "The Bourne Ultimatum"... films in which all semblance of logistics and space are imploded on each other in a series of quick edits and handheld cameras. While I'm a huge fan of both films (and believe that the editing of Greengrass is just a few steps away from incomprehensible, yet he still manages to give us enough info to follow the logic course of events), I can certainly see where the action sequence has officially gone hyper-real. Marshall's "Doomsday" is a shining example. The exception to the rule in Lim's piece is Park Chan Wook's "Oldboy", in which we're treated to a 3 minute single lateral pan as our protagonist fights his way down a corridor full of approaching enemies with only a hammer. Some classical examples haven't been totally lost, I guess.

So is this all a sign of oncoming old age on my part? Am I losing touch with the technologically advanced youth weaned on electronics from inception? I mean, hell, I've got an Ipod and I love YouTube.... doesn't that count for something? But when a film like "Doomsday" squanders so much of its energy on ill-conceived and executed action sequences, what do we have to rely on for the future? Will the scenes get even shorter and diced up into surreal oblivion? It's a frustrating topic. Even the films I'm willing to accept ("The Dark Knight") feature some basic ineptitude when it comes to an action scene. If the genuine auteurs like Christopher Nolan can't get it right, we're in serious trouble.

Top 5- The Dark City

August has officially been dubbed "Film Noir" month, and there's no shortage of writings about this genre around the blog-o-sphere. Probably the most famous will be taking place at Movie Zeal wherein they'll write about one noir a day. How's that for dedication?

And if American film noir doesn't float your boat and you live close to New York, then the esteemed Film Forum theater will be displaying 38 "French Crime Wave" films in their five week series. Yes, that's me drooling just a bit. I've seen 25 of the films, but damn it'd be awesome to see them on the big screen.

So, pretty much all I can contribute is a short top 5 list of my favorites. I'll keep it confined to American films, or else Jean Pierre Melville would probably come in with all five. Also, pre-1975 because... well because I can and that post 1975 list is something altogether different.

1. Chinatown (1974)- I've said it before, but the script by Robert Towne and direction of Roman Polanski in "Chinatown" result in a perfect film. I only say that about two films- this one and Hitchcock's "Vertigo". And beyond that, its a noir without the slightest sense of chic or self reflexiveness. Superb on every level.

2. The Killers (1946)- Robert Siodmak's noir starring Burt Lancaster and Edmond O' Brien is the textbook of noir. Shadow compositions, a narrative that works backwards, tense and stuffy camerawork that makes every bit of sweat seep through the screen- if you really wanna know what "noir" embodies, this is it.

3. Out of the Past (1947)- Jacques Tourneur's film is yet another example of the straight characteristics of the genre, but this time with a much more stringent attention to finance. Tourneur was always a B movie auteur, and "Out of the Past" continues his minimalist streak without shirking any of the genre's best details. Robert Mitchum is the schmo this time, reminiscing about how he got to a certain point. Of course, there's a femme fatale who helped. This is a striking work whose mood of corruption is suffocating.

4. Kansas City Confidential (1952)- Yes, I could very easily put another classic heist film on this list- "The Killing" of course or certainly "The Asphalt Jungle"- but I've only seen Phil Karlson's "Kansas City Confidential" once several years ago on TCM and its a film that stuck with me. Maybe it was the documentary style of its aesthetic which seemed groundbreaking for a film in 1952, or the way the film methodically deconstructs the robbery of an armored car, but either way, "Kansas City Confidential" is a highly underrated masterpiece of the genre.

5. Kiss Me Deadly (1955)- A noir with real balls... Robert Aldrich's "Kiss Me Deadly" is popular now for all the wrong reasons (*cough Tarantinoandhisrippedoffbriefcaseidea *cough), but its still a nasty, nihilistic, paranoid noir.

(apologies for such a cut and dry post, but Blogger is not allowing me to upload photos right now.)

Small Tribute to Michael Nyman

I really appreciate the sounds of film composer Michael Nyman. With the vagaries of You Tube, I can share this enthusiasm with sound and image.

His early work served as the musical underscore to the sometimes lyrical, often maddening images of the films of Peter Greenaway. It's one of the few things I truly enjoy about Greenaway's films. Below, "A Zed and Two Noughts".



Nyman's breakthrough compositions came in 1993 with the Jane Campion film, "The Piano". While being a commercial high note for Nyman, the soundtrack fails to move me like other pieces of his work.

It's hard to seperate my admiration for Michael Winterbottom's film, "Wonderland" and the sublime score of Michael Nyman. They both compliment each other so well, but without that longing score from Nyman, I don't see the film having quite as much impact. From "Wonderland", below is the theme for the character named Nadia (Gina McKee).



And finally, the showstopper- Nyman's finale theme for "Gattaca". Wow, I wish more people would discover this film. Even though my belief that director Andrew Niccol was the next Stanley Kubrick has been left in lingo ("Lord of War" and "Simone"??.. anyone...anyone), "Gattaca" is one brilliant debut wrapped up in one lush score. Enjoy but beware of spoilers.

Quiet Apocalypse: Kurosawa's "Pulse"

This post is part of the Kiyoshi Kurosawa Blog-a-thon being hosted at The Evening Class

In Kiyoshi Kurosawa's "Pulse" (Kairo), the end of the world comes in hushed tones. The inhabitants of Tokyo begin to slowly absorb into the fabrics of everyday life- literally. It begins with a florist's assistant and then spreads to a group of technologically inclined college students. Messages begin to surface in weird video images on computers which causes the viewer to slowly go insane, taping off their residences with red tape and then morphing into wet stains on their walls. Is what they're seeing on the website the images of their dead friends? A portal to some other world? Or is it simply their imagination and a chance for a filmmaker like Kurosawa to broaden his thematic outlook on the modern world? Whichever way one looks at it, "Pulse" is one seriously scary piece of work.

Released in 2001, "Pulse" fits in nicely with the rest of Kurosawa's moody work. I've said it before, but for whatever reason, Asian filmmakers like Kurosawa, The Pang Brothers, Hideo Nakata and Takashi Shimizu understand that the recesses of the frame, the dark edges of the image and background shadows can be just as terrifying as any horror film aesthetic. Kurosawa is probably the unspoken master of this. For an entire investment in mood, check out his latest film, "Retribution", which seems to be shot entirely with natural sunlight and one bulb per room. And even though "Pulse" is another Asian metaphor on technology taking over society (on the heels of Takashi Miike's pretty damn good "One Missed Call"), Kurosawa makes us believe in it. The desperation and impending dread hovers over each and every second of "Pulse". I'm not too afraid of nuclear weapons wiping us off the map, but I could easily see the world degenerating into a chaotic hell hole if some super virus infected modern technology and rendered us helpless. "Pulse" plays on that fear and ends on a truly harrowing visage of planes going down in flames, a woman jumping to her death (in a remarkable well staged and tricky single shot") and a woman (Harue Karasawa) stumbling around the mayhem searching for a way out. The apocalypse had never felt so scary.

Filmed in 2001 but not released in the United States until 2005, "Kairo" was pilfered and turned into a nearly unwatchable Hollywood remake in 2006. Though some of the images were transferred faithfully- including the one with a "crab woman" walking towards the camera which, in either version, is one of the more disturbing images I've ever seen- gone is the fragile sense of dread. The Hollywood version amped up the ghosts and swept out the energy. The attention was turned from the darkness of the frame to the overtness of the "jumps". With Kurosawa, his films seep into your consciousness and rattle around for days. "Pulse" is but one great example of this.

The common visual structure of "Pulse" notwithstanding, it's also a film that demands your attention. With an array of characters, the narrative refuses to focus on one person. The man or woman that we're watching one minute very well could end up a stain on the wall in the next scene. Besides being a strong indicator that Kurosawa is interested in the mass psyche as it pertain to this unknown phenomenon causing mass suicide, this storytelling device adds great tension. Anything goes. But, anyone familiar with Kurosawa's films knows that the unexpected should be expected. In both "Cure" (the first Kurosawa I film saw on Sundance channel in 1998 one year after release) and "Retribution" (2007) an unknown force triggers ordinary people to kill without warning. With the introduction to each new character, we're never sure if we can relax and put our trust in this person or if they've already been possessed by this growing evil. In "Pulse", the students affected by one's suicide exponentially impact the others. Who'll be next? Who will go home and have their computer automatically turned on and see the image of a shadowy bedroom? For some, this unwillingness to identify with a strong character can be maddening. For Kurosawa, it's yet another methodical way of dealing with the non-descriptive nature of the evolving landscape.

Last year, I included "Pulse" on my list of 15 scariest Movies of all time. It's that good. Over time, it has only gotten better. With each new Kurosawa film, he continues to dazzle and mesmerize. The logic is a little fuzzy sometimes and I wonder if he doesn't get totally lost in mood sometimes (thinking of "Retribution, which I need to see again), but its the promise of seeing something nerve-shattering that brings me back to Kurosawa as the leading figure in modern Japanese cinema. "Pulse" has been regarded as a genre attempt by Kurosawa. If this is the type of minor genre attempt he continues to make, then I'm very afraid for the horror genre itself. His 'minor' efforts reveal more purpose, more visual brilliance and more damning statements about us as a society than any 'major' work by true auteurs.

A Good Couple Weeks At the Movies

Hancock

Relegated now to the status of that 'other' superhero movie, Peter Berg's "Hancock" is nonetheless a bold interpretation of this type of film- which means I bought wholeheartedly into the "twist" of the film and loved how it dared to step into some pretty mythical and even romantic aspects of the genre never before explored. I've been a fan of Berg since his incredibly well-tuned "Friday Night Lights", one of the absolute best football movies ever made and a pretty damn good exploration of small town Texas life as well. He has a way of melding music and image that transcends the genre sometimes, and with "Hancock", there's no exception (the score from John Powell). Berg also has a way of creating memorable images, as if his camera is constantly revolving and recording the action around him where gentle moments of human interaction are discovered. Think of the whisper between Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Garner in "The Kingdom" (a smart film that deserved more notice last year) or the fatherly tug on the helmet to a disillusioned son walking off the field in "Friday Night Lights". Berg is just as attentive in "Hancock", giving us glimpses of the scarred human beneath the superhero mantra. As the alcoholic protagonist who causes more damage than good, Will Smith ably inhabits his role. Though the first half plods along routinely, settling the desire for mainstream entertainment through unoriginal quips of dialogue and one head-ramming sequence which involves the ass of another man, Berg and screenwriters Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan toss a curve ball that elevates the film into something more about halfway through. That's when it really hooked me. Essentially high priced summer fare, "Hancock" also hits high notes of genuine loneliness and sacrifice. Both Will Smith and Charlize Theron add immense depth to their roles and "Hancock" deserves to stand out from the rest of the summer shuffle for that alone.


Shotgun Stories

Jeff Nichols' "Shotgun Stories" is a remarkable assured debut film that had me spellbound right from its textured opening images of Arkansas crop fields at sunset. With David Gordon Green serving as producer, Nichols maintains a good majority of the Southern ennui and rag-tag awkwardness of Green's previous films, but "Shotgun Stories" is a much darker tale. You can feel the portentousness from the very beginning and it never lets up. Starring Michael Shannon (who'll forever be ingrained in my memory as the creepy guy from "Bug") leads a relatively unknown cast in this violent family drama. After the death of their father, Shannon and his two brothers show up to the funeral and effectively spit on the casket as its being lowered into the ground. There are hints and visual cues of a tormented past between the brothers and their now dead father. Rightly so, this action offends the four brothers of the dead father's new family- the one he created and loved after "finding God" and sobering up. Hence begins a struggle between both families as the hatred seethes and the violence mounts. Nichols handles everything in modulation. Through strong editing and a stunning visual look, "Shotgun Stories" infuses the numerous confrontations between the brothers as something almost biblical. But while it's the startling violence (mostly off-screen) that registers while watching, the overall lasting reverberation of the film is its fair and balanced representation of both sides. There are no clear cut villains here and the motives for either side (both in action and peace-keeping missions) are examined with clear eyes. "Shotgun Stories" is smart, bracing independent film making.

The Dark Knight

Christopher Nolan's "The Dark Knight" could easily earn that high praise of "best...superhero...movie...ever." I won't go that far, but it is a stunning example of the intelligent progression of Nolan's Batman franchise. I loved "Batman Begins" enough to rank it number 15 on my favs of 2005, and I can easily see "The Dark Knight" ranking twice as high when '08 rolls to an end. This is not only a good entry into the caped crusader chronicles but its a terrific crime film, echoing the vibrancy of Michael Mann with its opening heist and sweeping helicopter pans through urban downtown and refusing to let off the accelerator as Batman and The Joker use Gotham as one giant sprawling playground of excess (both good and bad). There are some moments in this film that are so good (the quiet cut to the Joker hanging his head out of the backseat window of a police car and smiling gently or the slow tracking shots that snake around people, highlighted by genuinely unnerving drone music) they beg for second viewings. And while its hard to avoid hefting praise on Heath Ledger as the Joker, his performance is more than a stunt. His voice inflections and reaction shots are composed of perfect timing. Every time he's on-screen, you could feel the audience tense up in my showing. I've never quite experienced anything like that before. That's the mark of true screen greatness.

The Wackness

Initially drawn to "The Wackness" for its sense of nostalgia since the film takes place in 1994 and charts the tumultuous summer after graduating high school for one Luke (Josh Peck) and I myself graduated just one year later, it didn't take long for me to realize I had nothing in common with this film. Our soon-to-be college student is a pot smoker/dealer (strike 1 for me), living in the dog-eat-dog urban environment of New York City (strike 2), who listens to rap music (strike 3) and befriends his equally drug addled psychiatrist Dr. Squires played by Ben Kingsley (strike whatever). About the only strands of familiarity came in Luke's persistent search for having sex with girls.. pretty much the main focus for most high school guys, no? Having said all that negative, there is something to like in Jonathan Levin's "The Wackness" and that comes in the somewhat sensitive relationships formed between Peck and Kingsley (who gives a terrific performance and whose energy sweeps across the screen every time he's on) and the projections of his lust onto the daughter of Dr Squires played by Olivia Thirlby. The film comes to life intermittently, but Peck's constant mutterings of "waddup, yo" or "that's dope" only serve as alienating factors in a performance that's not that great to begin with. To believe in a film, one has to believe in the main character, and as Luke, Peck simply resembles a blank slate in which I checked out long before the resolution of his messy, fumbling summer comes about. I could have easily taken a film about the miserably complacent lives of Kingsley, his disaffected wife (Famke Jansen) and daughter (Thirlby) much more readily than the central focus of "The Wackness". And whether it was intentional or not, but the cinematography by Petra Korner, full of washed out browns and golds, becomes annoying in its relentless search to capture the halcyon days of '94 New York. I've never been there, but it seems to suck the life right out of the city.

Paranoid Park

Speaking of 'ennui', Gus Van Sant's "Paranoid Park" is another trek through teen anomie, this time in the guise of Portland, Oregon's skateboard culture and the (maybe?) murder of a security guard. Starring unknown faces and shot by master cinematographer Christopher Doyle, "Paranoid Park" is full of splendid visual moments and muted emotions as Alex (Gabe Nevins) tells his first-person story in non-linear fashion, scribbling down what happened to him in a notebook. Van Sant is faithful to the confused state of this teenager mind as his film jumps around in sync with Alex's struggle to articulate past events and how he may have been responsible for murder. Van Sant is a filmmaker I admire more than appreciate. His trilogy of films, including "Gerry", "Last Days" and "Elephant" take a remarkably European art film aesthetic (long tracking shots, strong attention to sound and lyrical movement) and apply it to the wasteland of suburban young adults in America. "Paranoid Park" is definitely the best of these films, but it still resonates as a cold, detached experiment. The best moments, though, are the opening ones as a fuzzy handheld camera documents in home movie fashion the snaking paths of several skateboarders in the concrete underpass known as Paranoid Park. With this seemingly innocuous event, Van Sant seems closer than ever in capturing the free-spirited milieu of suburban America. A nice effort.

70's Bonanza- The Hospital

By 1970, screenwriter/novelist/playwright Paddy Chayefsky had reached the pinnacle of cinematic heights. With one Academy award behind him already (for "Marty" in 1955)and two more to follow in the 70's, Chayefsky had just as much power as a director or producer. Like screenwriting peer Robert Towne a few years later, his pen turned paper into gold. And this position of power was mandated with the release of "The Hospital" one year later in '71 . Not only did Chayefsky get another Oscar for this work, but he got top billing upon release. There's the title, followed with "by Paddy Chayefsky" and then a quick directing title for Arthur Hiller. It must be nice at the top.

But, I'm not complaining. "The Hospital" is one great script. Like "Network" which would be written later in his career, Chayefsky tackles an institution (the medical profession) and turns it inside out, reveling in its bureaucratic uglies, taking sardonic swipes at its individuals and essentially bracketing the whole profession as one huge three ring circus without a ringleader. And in the midst of the neglect and mounting confusion of its merry-go-round cast over one long night in their New York hospital, there stands George C. Scott as Dr. Bock... a depressed, burned out live wire who is just as royally condemned as the homeless man left in the corner to die. Chayefsky certainly has an affinity for that 'off the reservation' maverick. He crafted an Oscar winning role for Peter Finch years later in "Network" as the demented TV broadcaster who turns into a cult leader for the disenfranchised and psychotic, and Scott's performance as Dr. Bock is basically the foundation for this type of professional defect. Held to a much lower key than Finch, Scott still burns fiercely, and when it comes time to deliver a long, rambling monologue about the state of the medical field, his own failures as a father and his impotency, Scott owns the scene. Many have tried to imitate Chayefsky's verbose brilliance, but no one comes close. When his characters deliver a monologue, you feel it in your bones.


Chayefsky's treatise on the horrors of hospitals isn't the only one. Romanian filmmaker Cristi Puiu's "The Death of Mr. Lazarescu" from 2006 is an equally damning representation. But Chayefsky got there first, and not only does "The Hospital" induce cringing as a lady from accounting calls out insurance numbers while someone dies on a gurney behind her, but it also creates great laughs in the way his characters stroll around in a state of eternal confusion. There's a casual disregard for death and mistakes. When one patient (who may be a doctor from the hospital) ends up dead in the hospital bed of a missing patient, it takes a full 2-3 minutes before one nurse convinces the other to come see what's wrong. It's to the credit of Chayefsky (and we should mention, I guess, director Arthur Hiller who keeps the whole thing fresh and paced) that he manages to wring great ironic humor out of assembly line human waste.

"The Hospital" isn't all gloom and doom. Without spoiling much, George C. Scott's Dr. Bock isn't a casualty in the engulfing morass. Chayefsky's script cares too much for him, throwing him a rekindled sexual appetite in the form of a beautiful visitor to the hospital played by Diane Rigg. And just when things seem darkest and the impending forces of the outside world descend in the form of urban protests from low-income tenants of a housing project destroyed by the hospital's plans for expansion, Scott turns a responsible corner and becomes the film's moral compass. While it's not Chayefsky's most fully believable character arc, Scott delivers his intentions with such determination, that's it hard to not root for him. Like "Network", Chayefsky's intentions are broad strokes against an empirical setting. Not only does he create vivid characters virtually swallowed up by their surroundings, but every now and then one of them gets out alive. In the hospital of this 1971 film, that's all the more fantastic.

Blogathon Note and Links

Over at Cinexcellence, they're asking for participation in the 'Unseen Blogathon'. The idea is that you check out a DVD on a whim. This can be one you buy at the store, rent online or steal from your girlfriend's roommate as one commenter stated.... but it's gotta be one that you wouldn't normally watch. For me that means no police procedural films or 70's exploitation. I guess that leaves a Meryl Streep comedy or something? Once you watch the film, a review is necessary. This could be interesting. It goes on through late August so have fun.

Also, its not a blogathon, but one helluva brave idea- and yet another example of the interactive and fun community of blogging. Caitlin at 1416 and Counting opened up her comment section and asked for suggestions of films. She would then Netflix them, watch every one of the suggestions and review them. Of course, I had to throw out two Michael Winterbottom films, "Wonderland" and "The Claim". She's a trooper alright, fearlessly accepting each suggestion and duly shooting them into her queue. That crazy bastard Piper already suggested "Meet the Feebles". What's the matter Piper, you couldn't wait for "Salo" to be released! But it's all in good fun. If only I were more inclined, I'd try something fun like that, but you know.. I'm a miserable curmudgeon.

And finally, the LAMB association continues to grow. Nice job, Fletch!

What's In the Netflix Queue #18

Some weeks are busier than others. This was one of those weeks. Next 10 flicks in the 'ol inbox:

1. Porcile- Still working my way through Pasolini. It's been a mixed bag. I hated and could barely make it through his "The Hawks and the Sparrows" in which we spend 90 minutes as two vagrants walk and converse with a talking raven about communism, religion and the poor. Yet I liked his debut feature, "Accatone" which can be seen as the influence for alot of Scorsese's work, including stealing the opening theme for his 1995 film "Casino". We'll see about "Porcile".
2. Badge of Honor (2 discs)- Three hour documentary about the history of the Los Angeles police department from the 1800's to today. I have to admit, since visiting L.A. a month ago, I've been fascinated by its history and lore.
3. Monsieur Hire- Patrice Leconte's French thriller that I think was just released on video. It made quite a few critics list back in the late 80's. Not sure why it took so long to get a DVD release.
4. Oh Woe Is Me- Godard film from 2007. A good majority of Godard's late work is pretty insufferable. But, as my 2nd or 3rd favorite director working today, I'll give any film of his a shot. This one is described as: "God takes over the body of Simon Donnadieu (Gérard Depardieu) in order to make love to his beautiful wife, Rachel (Laurence Masliah). When publisher Abraham Klimt (Bernard Verley) hears about this astounding occurrence, he travels to the couple's Swiss town to see whether it's true. French director Jean-Luc Godard's meditation on God's relationship with man is replete with stunning images of the European countryside and nature.
5. Who'll Stop the Rain-70's bonanza rolls on. Karel Reisz's drug smuggling thriller stars Nick Nolte. Never heard of this one.
6. Oedipus Rex- Last Pasolini film I need to see (that is until "Salo" gets its big Criterion release in August) and the oeuvre inspection will be complete.
7. Eyes of Laura Mars- Late 70's thriller starring Faye Dunaway and Tommy Lee Jones about a fashion photographer who learns she can see the murders of a serial killer through the lens of her camera. It can't be as bad as "Shutter" can it?
8. The Notorious Concubines- Third and final film of director Koji Wakamatsu's that is available on video. I expect more weird, perverse stuff.
9. The Lovers- A whole slate of previously unreleased Louis Malle films recently made it to DVD. No better time than the present to catch up. I hold a special place in my heart for his debut, "Elevator to the Gallows" that was the first French New Wave film I can remember watching.
10. The Eagle Has Landed- John Sturges is the man. Anybody who directs "The Great Escape" is pretty damn good in my book. This was his last film in 1976, a World War 2 tale about an elite group of paratroopers landing behind German lines. Sturges is long over due for one of those New York Film Forum retrospectives.

There Goes My Hero

Forget what I wrote a few months back about this guy:




My new hero is this guy:


(Josh Hamilton, taken last weekend after batting practice)

Taking Stock of '08 (So Far)

Fifty-four films into 2008 for me personally, there have been some surprises. While the list of not-so-great films grows longer ("Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, "Wanted", "Diary of the Dead", "Drillbit Taylor", "Be Kind Rewind" rounding out the very bottom) I have seen 6 really good films. Whether these chosen ones survive the onslaught of the Fall season remains to be seen, but something tells me they probably will. With a mixture of auteur sensibility, these half dozen films represent originality, strong acting, compelling narratives and good old fashioned entertainment done with pizazz.

In alphabetical order:

The Bank Job


Roger Donaldson's thrilling genre piece showcases a mannered attention to detail (1970's London), a well constructed heist, and just enough tension to make "The Bank Job" great retro-fun. The cast is also smartly assembled and there's nary a gun fired until the very finale. Up until that point, the film keeps the dialogue firing on all cylinders and relying on good old fashioned suspense and character evolution to make you care about what's happening.

Boarding Gate


Olivier Assayas' international thriller keeps Asia Argento sharply in the sights of every scene as she dodges killers and manipulative ex-boyfriends at every turn. Filmed in Assayas' characteristic style of handheld cinematography and nervy jump cuts, he continues to take the thriller/espionage picture and smash it into a thousand pieces. The reasons for virtually every bad guy in this film are left on the editing room floor, and we're given a woman on the run against... something. Hints of corporate skulduggery, drug dealings and murder are left unfounded. "Boarding Gate" is the ultimate abstract thriller- with Assayas' "demonlover" a close second.

Inside


Finally, a French horror film in a long line of them that scores. Directed by Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury, imagine a film that suspends the dingy nightmarish blood spewing of "Taxi Driver" in its closing moments and you have a small idea how unsettling "Inside" is for most of its 100 minute running time. Except this time, the target of the maniacal killer is a pregnant woman home alone on Christmas Eve. This film will shock, upset, and make you cringe with its relentlessness. But besides that, it looks terrific and Maurey and Bustillo certainly understand how to frame a film for ultimate effect.

My Blueberry Nights


This is basically a road movie as only Wong Kar Wai could make... full of speed up landscapes, fluorescent subway trains and life observed from the outside looking in through glass windows. Like German filmmaker Wim Wenders, Wong Kar Wai's 'outsider' views about America don't always translate, but the time warp that envelops "My Blueberry Nights" is transfixing. From New York to the open vistas of Las Vegas, Nora Jones gets to be the anchor for a series of loners and addicts as she travels across country. David Straithern, as an alcoholic going through a divorce to Rachel Weisz, deserves a supporting actor nomination for his work. This is one beautiful film, both in emotions and look.

Summer Palace


Lou Ye's sprawling yet intimate look at 4 college students from the 60's to the 80's tracks along with the rest of his career in which he spans the years for emotional complexity and cultural significance. A knockout of a film.

The Visitor


It's so nice to see great supporting actor Jenkins wrestle with a starring role. After turning in strong performances in a host of films like "North Country" (in which he deserved a supporting actor nom that year) and "The Man Who Wasn't There", he does it again here but on the LEAD actor scale, embodying Walter with nuance and a less-is-more attitude that cuts right through the screen. I wasn't a fan of McCarthy's previous film, "The Station Agent", which felt quirky and forced, but with "The Visitor", he's created a film full of life, redemption and subtle human interaction.

What's On My Mind... In Links

Still reeling from Josh Hamilton's walk-off 2 run shot over the Angels tonight, something has been nagging me that I've been meaning to pound out for several weeks now. Yes, there is an East coast bias (sorry to all the Red Sox fans I know read this blog!) Over the past few weeks, every game on ESPN and every Sportscenter highlight have involved Boston vs. Yankees, Yankees vs. Twins, Red Sox vs. Rays, and Sunday night the Mets vs god knows who. Please, break up the monotony and give us some heartland folks something to sink our teeth into. I'll be watching the Rangers anyway, but it'd be nice to flip over and see the occasional White Sox game or watch Arizona fall flat on their faces and lead the division with a .500 record.

And now, there's this inane story about Jason Giambi's freakin' moustache that has owned ESPN TV and radio for the past day. I had to turn off the radio last night after hearing Jason Smith on all-night radio spend 2 hours on this subject. Ridiculous. Anyway, yes, the bias does exist.

As a fan of Coast To Coast AM radio, I found this story somewhat compelling. Legendary occultist Aleister Crowley as a British spy?

With Tiger Woods done for the year, you could hear the collective sigh of relief when PGA tour phenom Anthony Kim won his second tourney last weekend in Washington DC. In between some terrific sporting events (baseball and Wimbeldon which really sucked me in), I flipped over to watch Kim's pretty flawless Sunday round, dropping approach shots within 10 feet and making some critical putts. With Tiger out, the tour needs someone like this to pump some fresh energy into the events.

And in the spirit of Weepingsam and his The Listening Ear blog, below is a bonus YouTube clip! From the Gutter Twins (Greg Dulli and ex Screaming Trees frontman Mark Lanegan).

Cinema Weirdo: Ecstacy of the Angels

When Cinemascope published an article last issue discussing the work of Japanese New Wave director Koji Wakamatsu, I knew I had to track down a few copies of his work. After seeing one of the (only) two films available on DVD, entitled "Ecstasy of the Angels", I'm flabbergasted and unsure if I really want to venture further. Filmed in 1972, "Ecstasy of the Angels" is definitely an acquired taste and prime candidate for any cult film junkie's list of weird and extreme.

Filmed in black and white with splashes of color thrown in for good measure (and indiscriminate reasons it appears), "Ecstasy of the Angels" follows a small group of Japanese revolutionaries who deal with in-fighting, power struggles and the daily grind of having to plant 'time bombs' all over the city, including police stations and crowded nightlife spots. But, I make this sound much more exciting than it really is. Like Godard's "La Chinoise", Koji is more interested in documenting the crazy ideas of his young warriors with dialogue rather than action. There is a flurry of activity towards the end of the film- captured in extremely jerky hand held camera work that follows a succession of bomb detonations around the city- but a majority of "Ecstasy of the Angels" takes place in the cramped, stuffy apartments of the revolutionaries as they spout mantra-like sayings and fight over the cache of stolen military munitions like three year olds. To make things even more avant garde, Koji supplies all his characters with names like Monday, Friday.... while the various factions of the militant group who struggle for power are known as seasons in the year. The 'October group' initially stole these weapons from a US army base (which opens the film with a rather well staged and believable break-in), but their reluctance to use them causes the 'February group' to show up, beat the 'October' leader, rape his girlfriend and take the weapons. If nothing else, Koji does a great job of fleshing out his revolutionaries as childish, inane and pretty clueless about reason, calculation or common sense.

But, wait... there's more to "Ecstasy of the Angels" than its political dissidence. Among the various double crosses and split factions, there's plenty of sex. Clearly deriving part of the film's stance from the pinku genre that Koji worked in for several decades, it belies a universe where sex and politics are inexplicably linked. Major decisions are made during the throes of passion. Nonsequitur comments such as "a park bench!" and "smash... smash them all!" are thrown out during foreplay to... I really have no idea. It does add a great dimension of weirdness and humor to the whole affair. If the film doesn't succeed as agitprop, then it may have a great shelf life as a comedy.

Wakamatsu has made close to 100 films since 1963. The next film I've slated to see is called "Go, Go Second Time Virgin" from 1969. It sounds just as genre-bending as "Ecstasy of the Angels": After being raped in an unknown rooftop, nineteen year-old girl Poppo meets a mysterious boy, and both share their sexual traumas and fears, with fatal consequences. Last year, Koji released a film called "United Red Army" that creeped into several critics top ten lists and has been written about recently by J Hoberman at the Village Voice. Koji is seemingly still interested in the disastrous and chaotic consequences of Japanese revolutionaries as this latest film (clocking in at 3 hours) follows a faction of the Red Army from infant stages to their death in a ski lodge. "Ecstacy of the Angels" seems to be his warm-up for this later effort. It is interesting to see a man of his age still spotlighting a cause he obviously supports, but if "Ecstacy of the Angels" is meant to convert anyone to his side of the line, then it fails miserably. If you're curious, check this one out.

Short Cuts

Mongol

Sergei Bodrov's "Mongol" created Internet hype late last year when fan boys at Aint It Cool News were privileged a showing at their annual Butt-Numb-A-Thon. The film went onto garner a Foreign Film Academy award nomination and generously released here in the summer for Hollywood action spectacle counter-programming. It's a smart move, coupled with the fact that Bodrov's first film in an expected series about Ghengis Khan is pretty damn good in all the right ways. Following the rise of Khan (Tadanobu Asano) from childhood to mongol warrior (with slave and prisoner roles in between) and ending with the promise of large-scale battles in the next episode as Khan rises to great leader, "Mongol" is sharply directed. While there's no really huge set piece, the battles are filmed in logical, easy interpretive methods with the right amount of blood letting. Filmed on remote locations in China and Kazakhstan, the vistas and snow capped mountains compliment the fundamental scope of the film. But the real surprise is that emotions are just as visceral as the action. A good majority of "Mongol" traces Khan's initial relationships in life with his chosen bride Borte (Khulan Chuluun) and blood brother Jamukha (Honglei Sun), which makes his later escapades all the more meaningful. The fan boys were right. "Mongol" is exceptional storytelling and I look forward to the continuation of Bodrov's vision.

The Incredible Hulk

I think I'm one of the few who really liked Ang Lee's "less-is-more" rendering of "Hulk" a few years back. While there are some similar contemplative moments within Louis Letterier's fast and furious sequel- or spin off or re-visualisation... whatever this new film claims to be- Hulk smashes and he smashes some more. It should please as a summer blockbuster. Until the ending, which devolves into a giant CGI cartoon where Edward Norton's Hulk battles Tim Roth's mutated self, "The Incredible Hulk" sustains a highly entertaining pace. Letterier is adept at staging some nice action set pieces (especially the chase through a Brazilian slum early in the film) but it's the final battle, drawn out with weightless looking special effects against a cartoon backdrop of New York city, that seems to jump the shark. I understand the need for big, climactic finales in my summer blockbusters, but this one feels excessively fake and meaningless. That being said, everything till that point in the movie (including Norton's performance and his palpable connection with Liv Tyler) are crisp and enjoyable.

Wanted

Another comic book adaptation- but this time with much fewer legions of fans than Hulk I'm guessing- Timur Bekmambetov's "Wanted" is a high-adrenaline shoot em up that failed to move me on any level. From the smug, detestable voice over (at which one point lead character James McAvoy says something like "I used to be a nobody.... like you"- well well how's that for friendly audience interaction from a screenwriter who apparently feels so much better than the rest of the world?) to the over-the-top action set pieces, "Wanted" is a loud, abrasive experience. Lost amid video game aesthetics and music-video montages of bullets flying and bodies flailing, "Wanted" never really connects with anything except the desire to "wow". That wouldn't be all bad if its attempts at humor and character development were more than bottom feeder theatrics. Amazingly, this film even makes Angelina Jolie look boring.

Joy Division

Grant Gee's "Joy Division" is a more commercial documentary approach towards a trend-setting, cultish rock band than his early 90's peek-on-tour with Radiohead called "Meeting People Is Easy", but the results are just as appealing. Gee obviously has a sharp eye for melding image and music as both films represent the bands as the masters of their era, yet "Joy Division", obviously, reflects a sharper reverential attitude since lead singer Ian Curtis' young farewell has been duly noted. Full of talking head interviews with the usual crowds (band mates, ex-girlfriend, Tony Wilson, album producers), Gee also occasionally breaks out of the mold with some startling inter textual asides- such as when he flashes a black and white photo image of a 70's club or loft, then cuts to a modern 35MM view of the same space with the playful footnote "things that are no longer there", complete with footnote number and all. In other (almost subliminal) moments, Gee flashes a word on the screen as someone off-screen speaks this word... and it's just these ultra-modern moments that make "Joy Division" feel like a prescient subject even though that subject mostly mattered 20 years ago. It doesn't matter whether one sees this documentary before Anton Corjbin's fictional telling of the band in "Control". Both efforts are blessed with having the special intellect and fragile personality of Ian Curtis and a band whose music are forceful enough to carry either film on their own.

TV Alert- Rescue Me

I've been meaning to write something about "Rescue Me" season 4 for awhile now, and this You Tube clip provides the right amount of motivation. Quickly rising to the ranks as one of my very favorite all time TV comedies (right behind "Arrested Development"), Denis Leary's incarnation of NY firefighter Tommy Gavin is sheer genius. While season 4 takes the laugh meter down just a bit compared to the previous 3 seasons, it still remains a solid mixture of quick hitting comedy and tense drama. The noticeable extension of the show and its growth in season 4 comes, unexpectedly, from it's attention to technical flurries of brilliance. In one episode, the team of firefighters is stumbling through a nondescript office building, carrying on their usual casual conversations, avoiding smoke and fire, getting lost in the corridors and finally helping a woman give birth... all of this handled in one stunning 6 minute long take that feels like something out of Cuaron's "Children Of Men". OK, maybe its not quit that spectacular, but it's still a ballsy move for a 42 minute television episode.

Then you've got the closing musical numbers that typically provides the exit. I'm not sure when or where musical epilogues began ("Sopranos" maybe??) but "Rescue Me" constantly marries the perfect song with a great moment on-screen. In the clip added below, the images coincide with The Twilight Singers "The Lure Would Prove Too Much", frontman "Greg Dulli's" now defunct band. Leary was so impressed with the band's 2006 release, "Powder Burns", that he's included two seperate songs on the show's soundtrack. "Powder Burns" is a hell of an album. If you like what you see, I urge you to start with Leary's "The Job" from 2000-2001, a short-lived series produced by Leary and creative partner Peter Tolan. Working in the same vein as "Rescue Me" but with lead characters as cops, the faces of that series make an impressionable parade through "Rescue Me". Three cheers for FX.