<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener("load", function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <iframe src="http://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID=13568857&amp;blogName=House+of+D.&amp;publishMode=PUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT&amp;navbarType=BLACK&amp;layoutType=CLASSIC&amp;searchRoot=http%3A%2F%2Fhofd.blogspot.com%2Fsearch&amp;blogLocale=en_US&amp;homepageUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fhofd.blogspot.com%2F" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" height="30px" width="100%" id="navbar-iframe" allowtransparency="true" title="Blogger Navigation and Search"></iframe> <div></div>
You have entered the House of D.


LINKS
Dan D: Master of film
Frankenblog
a-ha official
The Dark Knight
Batman On Film
Bjork official
Christopher Lee official
Depeche Mode official
Digital Bits
Downey Unlimited
Hollywood Reporter
Jim Carrey Online
Morrissey Solo
Mozaic
New Order Online
Pet Shop Boys official
Stallone Zone
Star 5
Super Hero Hype





Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com


DISCLAIMER:
All words posted on this blog are the sole property of Michael Duffy (except where noted). Images are collected from the web and are shared herein to illustrate film reviews and opinions. If you are the owner of an image and do not wish to see it used for these purposes, please email me and I will remove it.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Undisputed
(2002)

Caught this under-seen gem the other night on BBC of all places. This is an interesting little movie about boxing...in prison. Directed by Walter Hill, who's been involved with everything from the Alien franchise to 48 Hours. He also wrote the screenplay for The Getaway (1972). Can' t say I'm too familiar with the director's work, but I am somewhat more familiar with the recent careers of this film's stars, Wesley Snipes and Ving Rhames. Mr. Rhames seems to take almost any part that's thrown at him, and he basically plays variations on the same personality in almost everything I've seen him in during the past few years. I was a little bit bored with him, but he shines in this movie. Snipes used to have a promising career, starring in some early Spike Lee movies, and forging himself into a competent action star with the Blade series (like the first one, love the second one, don't know what went wrong with the third). I haven't seen anything Snipes has done since this film, but from what I know, everything he's done since Undisputed has gone direct-to-dvd (in the U.S. at least), and he's had some real-life problems like being prosecuted for tax evasion that have kept him filming these low-budget Euro co-productions conveniently out of the country for some time... So this movie is somewhat of an artifact of his career, a turning point (however minor) into his current "what happened to him" reputation...

Undisputed was released theatrically, if only for a week or two. I've heard minor rumblings and been curious about this movie ever since it showed up. And now that' I've seen it, I know why. While it may not be everyone's cup of tea, there are many small pleasures and interesting moments to be had, including the film's fluid editing, and never-a-dull-moment pace. I've heard the film was chopped up by its studio, Miramax (who have a history of doing this to their product). I'm wondering if Hill's original "Director's Cut" might have been significantly more substantial in its themes and subtexts...

However, what we have is the movie here as it is. And what I like about it is its simple, straightforward approach. Ving Rhames' character, who is a championship boxer convicted of raping a woman (heavy shades of Mike Tyson's life here), is transferred to a maximum security prison where another boxer rules the ring. Snipes' character has been undefeated there for the entire of his 10 years incarceration, and he doesn't take too kindly to Rhames' sudden arrival and bullish nature (cue "Who's the real champ?" dialogue). Each of these characters have a couple of interesting bits of characterization to them: We never find out if Rhames' character actually raped the woman. We are given bits of her television testimony, and his staunch denial. And Snipes, well, he's like a Zen toothpick master when he's not in the ring. He spends his time in solitary confinement patiently assembling a house made out of toothpicks and glue. I kid you not!

Every scene is transitioned to through some basic gangsta rap, the kind you here often when the filmmakers want an "urban" flavor to their movie. But something I can't explain about the use of music in this movie -- there's something unique about it.

And then, there's Columbo. Yeah, you heard that right, Peter Falk shows up, playing an aging mafia leader who is a scholar of boxing. He doesn't add much to the proceedings, but when you need a quirky character to bounce the hard-core Rhames or Snipes off of, it works. The boxing itself is excellently choreographed -- to the point that I honestly didn't believe these guys were acting or "faking" it.

There's already been a direct-to-dvd sequel to this movie, starring Michael Jai White (he of ill-fated comic book adaptation Spawn), and there's talk of a third from that film's director.

Seems like something Undisputed did tapped into some minor audience or genre that needed some attention, and now they've got an interesting little franchise on their hands...

There's just something about it, something I feel like the makers "got" about boxing and the attitude of its participants.

It's hard for me to actually recommend this picture, but for a nice distraction one night, you could do worse than this strange, slightly stupid, but ultimately interesting B-movie.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

I'm Back.

Stallone is back as John Rambo, coming January 2008.



...So here I am. One year and a half later. The Dr. is in.

It felt like a new day today. Cold weather blew in, but the sun was out. I smelled something different in the air (even though I spent most of the day inside). Something positive. Something enlightening. Autumn in Leeds...

Something told me this was the right time to begin writing again.

Leave a comment and let me know what it's like in your part of the world.

So sorry I haven't updated. All I can say is that I have been trying to figure out my life.

Oh, and don't worry, it's not your browser -- we're working on fixing up the title graphics.

I don't know where I'll be going, or what I'll be doing in the next few months, but I want you to be there with me. Yes, All of you.

I'll be posting more soon, playing catch-up with myself, and telling you my thoughts on all of the films I've seen over the past year or so... From festivals to couch seats, I've seen a lot, but never found the time to get back here.

That time is now.

Or rather, it's...

RAMBO TIME!!

Saturday, April 15, 2006

"The only Verdict is Vengeance."



V for Vendetta

Yeah, I know, I should be working on my thesis...

Train of thought review:

Caught 'V' the other night, had a free ticket from picking up some Jet Li pics that I didn't have...(what?) Anyway, I thought it was good. Impressive. Not sure how much you'll like it, but it's a decidedly smart genre pic, ever so slightly elevated above it's station (god do I sound too English ? -- it's the movie). Some good performances from Natalie Portman and Hugo Weaving's voice -- the role was initially given to James Purefoy (not sure if you know this guy -- he plays 'Marc Antony' in Rome-- he was one of my other pics for 'should be Bond'), but apparently it "wasn't working out" and the Wachwhackos hired back Weaving (who was "always their first choice", blah blah I'm so sick of this PR b.s.). So, I'm not sure who's actually playing "the body" now. I think there are some interviews available online that talk about it, though. Anyway, the film is strong, smart and witty, surprisingly talky for a "genre" pic/graphic novel/comic book adaptation. I didn't even catch all of what V/Weaving was saying all the time because it was rattled off so quick, and the sound in the theatre I was at kind of stunk. John Hurt's one-note totalitarian dictator is hammered home a little too much, and I almost couldn't stand the guy who plays his second-in-command. Stephen Rea walks around the whole time like he's got heartburn (what the heck happened to his career, by the way? He started working continuously in movies we've never heard of. Neil Jordan ran out of roles, I guess). The cinematography and supporting performances have a bit of a Euro-trash sub-Blade feel to them. I know, it sounds bad -- but it actually, in some strange, obtuse way, works. Small important roles like Stephen Fry's (which in itself is a nice knod to his performance as Wilde, you'll see what I mean when you watch this) and some neat flashbacks detailing stories of "what really happened" in the past, and written letters kind of coming alive make for interesting, and intelligent diversions. And every time V shows up, it's thrilling. This movie has something to say. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it's about ideas. It's more than we get from "Hollywood" most of the time. It has nice little knods to contemporary political/social happenings, without concentrating on or inferring from them directly. The score was decent. The action quotient surprisingly low. The script (and slight romance) is just a little-forced in certain areas, but V's character and Portman's character, and the actors' performances, keep lifting the thing above. This movie was, dare I say it, even "powerful" in moments. So, I liked it. I can't believe I'm actually saying that about a product produced by the guys who did the Matrix movies (don't get me started), but that's how I feel. In a different world, it would win a few awards, I think, simply for "intelligence beyond the capacity of its makers". I think more people will discover it on DVD.

Viva la Revolution!

Sunday, January 22, 2006


I have seen greatness... And it is..


NAUSICAA



VALLEY OF THE WIND



Simply put:

See this movie before you die.

For more information, look here.

And here.


HAPPY NEW YEAR!




Monday, September 19, 2005


Nick Nolte and Maggie Cheung at 2004's Cannes Award Ceremony, where Cheung was named Best Actress for her lead role in Oliver Assayas' Clean

There are some films that seep into your soul in a way you can't describe, or even understand. Sometimes you make more sense of these films later in life, when events transpire which put more meaning and perspective into these films of the past, sometimes you don't make sense of them at all -- you just feel. Clean is, for me, one of these movies. It's the kind of film that used to come out in the 1970s (I'm thinking of movies like McCabe & Mrs. Miller, and The French Connection), a film with rare emotional, physical honesty and compassion for the human existence, the kind of which you rarely see these days. To save you a needless plot summary that you can simply read here, I'll tell you only that, if you treasure true emotional honesty in films, then find this film on television or at your video/electronics store, and rent it or buy it -- you won't be sorry. Maggie Cheung, one of the world's most celebrated actresses (even though you may have never heard of her) delivers a real, unglamorous performance as a woman who has nearly lost it all through drugs and a life of mistakes. When her rock musician husband dies of a drug overdose, she must find a way to make sense of the rest of her life, which includes a set of grandparents she barely talks to, and a son that she barely knows.



Traversing Canada, Paris and London, the film isn't so much a travelogue as a journey to locate a soul. Cheung's performance, on a surface level, reflects the real-life Cheung's state of existence -- an actress born in England, and raised throughout the world, she speaks at least three languages: English, French and Cantonese. All three are used in Clean; there are no flashy transitions, no weighty justifications for the shifts in cultural and societal sensibilities -- the world is as it is, free-form, baseless, and forever wanting.



Nick Nolte delivers a blistering, downtrodden, magnificently levelled performance, as a grandfather who must take on the burden not only of his son's complicated royalty legalities and re-issue art conundrums, and his wife's sudden worsening of a terminal condition, but also, and perhaps most significantly, becoming an emotional olive tree to a damaged daughter-in-law whom he never really knew. On every whisker of Nolte's unshaven face, you see and feel a lifetime's worth of regret and grizzled world-weariness. It's an amazingly nuanced performance, one of the best in what continues to be a wildly unpredictable career.

The film's director and writer, Oliver Assayas, is French, and was for a few years married to Cheung. Their union has produced a fruitful cinematic relationship, beginning with Assayas' essay in filmic-self-reflexiveness, Irma Vep. Their work together in Clean shows how special this relationship has become, whether there is harmony in marriage or not. All that matters is that there is a marriage of shared sensibilities, cinematic approaches, and stylistic, emotional and thematic cohesiveness. Clean is a film that should be seen by everyone, yet strangely enough it is not getting a wide release.



Another film whose moments have stayed with me in recent weeks is War of the Worlds, which, while not extraordinarily groundbreaking, I felt, still left me battered and bruised enough psychologically by its many haunting images, that I felt I should mention it. My favorite sequence in the film, and the one I find most meaning in, is surely when the Cruise, Fanning and Tim Robbins characters find themselves stranded in a basement through a deadly overnight massacre on their town by unrelenting aliens. As the Cruise character slowly begins to realize he is living with a madman (an eerie, psychologically challenging performance from Tim Robbins), he strives to do whatever he must in order to protect his daughter and himself from being "found out". The sequence has strong allusions to Orson Welles for me, in both Robbins' performance (which I felt could have been a role a latter-day, Touch of Evil-era Welles might have really done something with), and in the claustrophobic nature of its atmosphere and cinematic style. Spielberg really captures some of the essence of suspence, mystery and horror here, not through gore and explosive grandeur, but purely through mind-numbing terror of the psychological kind.



Also worth noting this week is the great opportunity I had to view Los Angeles Plays Itself, a film seemingly only on festival release, in which Cal Arts professor Thom Anderson theorizes the cinematic and social significance of Los Angeles as a city, image and character in fictional film. Peppered with clips of everything from Blade to Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles Plays Itself is, while seemingly academic on the surface, actually a telling, funny and brilliant take on Los Angeles as a cultural object. Anderson interrogates theories as to why Los Angeles 'means' what it does in films, and why we accept it as such. Well worth your while, even if you don't know much about cinema.

Speaking of "California Dreaming", just because I like you, a 'Hello' from Faye Wong in Chungking Express.

Still as wonderfully invigorating ten years on...

Friday, September 09, 2005

Remembering The Big Easy

In better times...




Do Something For the People!

Here's How You Can Make an Immediate Difference in Louisiana

And all the up-to-date information and counter-mass media views here.


Not to get political, but...

"There have been a lot of failures at a lot of levels -- local, state and federal," Powell said in an ABC interview for the "20/20" program.

"There was more than enough warning over time about the dangers to New Orleans. Not enough was done. I don't think advantage was taken of the time that was available to us, and I just don't know why," Powell said in excerpts on ABC's Web site.

"I don't think it's racism, I think it's economic," Powell said. "But poverty disproportionately affects African-Americans in this country. And it happened because they were poor."


And because we need to laugh at a time like this (and yes, this is probably in poor taste), I give you what I deem to be the funniest small story of the year:
-----------------
>> Smells Like T Spirit <<>
New Order played T In The Park festival this summer. Singer Bernard Sumner decides to take a dump before going on stage so heads to the backstage portaloos. When he emerges, Bernard is conscious that he's left a terrible smell, so tries to escape unseen. Unfortunately, he bumps straight into Godfather of Soul James Brown, who is heading for the same toilet. Sumner runs off giggling, but before gets out of earshot, hears the door lock and a muffled cry of, "Good GOD!"
-----------------


In other worthless news at a time like this:
I'm placing my bets on Casino Royale -- Yes, I'm staking my claim that Pierce Brosnan will indeed be back as 007. I've got 4-1...

More film reviews coming next week, including the amazing Clean, starring 2004 Cannes Best Actress winner Maggie Cheung and Nick Nolte.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

"You're really weird."


Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

What a great pop confection fantasy movie. Wonderfully engaging, fanciful without being wispy, emotional without being sappy, smart without being pretentious. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is my favorite film of the year (and I'd argue it still will be by year's end). Performance criticisms be damned, I loved Johnny Depp's uncomfortable, surprising, culturally aware (yet emotionally withdrawn) portrayal of Willy Wonka -- this is as good, or possibly better, than anything he did in Pirates. Whether this film is "more like the books" or not is really of no interest to me. Whether Depp's performance reminds anyone of a certain pop star's recent strangeness, is really not my concern. I found this film enjoyable and fulfilling from beginning to end. Contrary to my English colleagues, I don't call many things "brilliant" -- this is one film that I will. Maybe it's because I've always been a Tim Burton nut -- but this shouldn't preclude me from praising this film as a near-masterpiece on its own merits.

This is the kind of movie Hollywood, and the general contemporary family community, needs to make and see more of. A story about what happens when you believe in yourself and your bonds with your family. Indeed, the most striking message this movie sends, to me, is one of defiance to all parents who treat their children either like trophies or trash -- and especially a big finger of comeuppance to parents who do not discipline their kids. I love how this film takes the selfishness and the brattiness that we deliver to other people everyday and throws it right back at us -- and just like humanity, surprises us with a sudden surplus of affection and love.

The first half-hour of the film is genuinely touching in its establishment of Charlie's rundown and poor family, two pairs of grandparents, one pair of parents, yet seemingly enough love and encouragement to keep them all going, bit by bit. When a film has you near tears in the first fifteen minutes, you know you're on to something. Helena Bonham Carter (now partnered with Burton in real life) delivers a wonderful performance of small joys as Charlie's mother. When Charlie has the extraordinary chance to break out, even if just for a day, and experience the joys of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, he takes the decision not with great surprise and loudness, but with quiet joy and contemplativeness (his grandparents are more excited then he is). Did I say 'joy' too much? Well, that's how I feel. To all those who criticize Burton for preference of set design over story -- I dare you to watch the first thirty minutes of this movie and not be moved through narrative and character, as if it was its own little film onto itself.

Peppered with wonderful allusions to Burton's past films (did you catch Depp's Wonka stretching out a great pair of scissors as he cuts the ribbons of his factory some "15 years ago"?), the chocolate factory is all the more amazing not for what it includes, but rather what it promises not to. Here there is apparently no sadness, no horror, just great confectionary delight for all those Ooompa-loompas who work here, and the rare visitors who get to see. But this is the amusing thing: Wonka has other things in mind -- he makes sure that he not only weeds out the children who don't deserve the ultimate prize (which are nearly all of them) but that he has great fun while doing it.

Danny Elfman's score once again amazes -- it feels like he and Burton are almost tied at the waist, their sensibilities match so well. Elfman uses author Roald Dahl's original words and creates new music for five great songs which frame each of the children's predicaments. These musical sequences are, to me, a stroke of genius. Smart, referential, yet timeless, these sequences will hopefully provide one of main reasons this film will be enjoyed for generations to come (I knew the true joy of the movie had reached children when the closing credits rolled and the boy seated in front of me jumped out of his seat and began dancing and miming to the music). Alex McDowell's production design -- assembled and filmed inside Pinewood Studios in England) is a wonder and a feat. Yes, it feels exactly like a factory or a studio -- entirely as its supposed to.

Christopher Lee is given a few nice menacing, and finally touching, scenes, in flashbacks as Wonka's father. It is great to see someone like Burton use Lee in a way that both utilizes and successfully pulls away from Lee's longstanding image as a heavy (villain).

There's also some really nice, quite interesting cinematic allusioning going on in the 'Wonka TV' scene. 2001: A Space Odyssey is referenced and equally played with visually, orally and culturally.

We never get quite completely into Wonka's head, but Depp's performance is so quicksure and turncoat that he makes sure we never have to think about it. Keeping us amused with an "I don't care" here and a "Let's boogie" there, Depp amazingly conveys a performative riffing on cultures and stereotypes which simultaneously makes fun of and adds meaning to all the ways in which we think about how to treat ourselves and others in the world everyday.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory succeeds more than Burton's 're-imagining' of Planet of the Apes (which I still defend, if only for Tim Roth's and Bonham-Carter's performances) some years back because of script and source material. John August's wonderful and witty screenplay for Charlie should not go unmentioned here; having contributed a nicely layered story for Burton's sorely underrated Big Fish, August here defies using contemporary cultural reference points and shoddy teenage humor (this is a film suitable for kids of any age), instead focusing on Wonka himself, and what makes his friction with his visitors so quirky and addictive. [I'm not even going to get into Gene Wilder's Wonka, which, while wonderful, in my opinion doesn't really have anything to do with this film.]

Oddly enough, if anyone gets short shrift in this film, it is the title character himself. Charlie, played with quite meaningfulness by Freddie Highmore (who caps an amazingly touching performance alongside Depp in the final moments of Finding Neverland), is almost our eyes to witness all the wonderful and surprising happenings in these few special days of his life. He never quite gets the full emotional due he deserves from us, the audience, because the film is also narrated by what turns out to be (or what is supposed to be, I think), the first Oompa Loompa, played by Deep Roy, who is duplicated by digital technology to perform all of the Loompas. [I could swear it's actually Christopher Lee's voice, slightly distorted, as the narrator as well -- but it's credited to someone else in the end titles.]

Still, all of that is a small, small critcism for what I consider to be the highlight of the year emotionally and more importantly, morally (not that I'm fanatical in any way). Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a film that defies catagorization, as it is arguably equally appealing and fulfilling for audiences of all ages, and not boring, pandering or culturally 'hip' in any way that will date it in years to come. I won't comprehend anyone who can't find true emotion, joy and laughter in this film -- it surely has more of it than anyone could expect or deserve these days. I find it very interesting that in the summer of 1989, Tim Burton released his first Batman film -- now, in the summer of 2005, a new Batman film has arrived, but Burton has equaled and surpassed that piece of work with something much more emotionally and critically fulfilling, a film that shows the same real maturity he revealed in last year's Big Fish, but also the same sarcasm, humor, pathos and childlike wonder that he perfected in Pee Wee's Big Adventure and Edward Scissorhands. Tim Burton, who is known not to have had the greatest childhood himself, has made the greatest of family movies -- now how weird is that?

There's a difference between sarcasm and cynicism. "You're really weird", you may say to me. Well, maybe. But I found joy in this film in a manner I rarely witness these days in cinema.

[P.S. Burton's Corpse Bride looks equally wonderful!]

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Fantastic Four

Just got back from seeing this. Frankly, I was expecting to be more disappointed than I was with this movie. Still, it's quite a mixed bag -- it's like the film is ever so precariously lying on that edge of awfulness and decent-ness from start to finish. It's tolerable, if often tedious, humorous in moments, but often quite silly and groan-inducing. It unfortunately represents almost everything that's wrong with Hollywood these days -- great characters and drama are pushed aside in favor of empty spectacle (with rushed and not quite natural-looking visual effects) and insufficient plotting and scripting. The four main characters are Reed Richards (Welshman Ioan Gruffold of Horatio Hornblower, that's Yo-ann Griffith to the non-familiars), Sue Storm (the nearly awful but just barely tolerable Jessica Alba), Johnny Storm (previous non-entity Chris Evans, mildly amusing here) and Ben Grimm (Michael Chiklis of The Shield, by far the best thing in this movie). Victor Von Doom (handsome but deadly Aussie Julian McMahon from Nip/Tuck, very similar in tone here) is the antagonist, whose character has such clear echoes of Willem Dafoe's Norman Osborn from Spider-Man that I'd tell Marvel Comics to sue if it weren't already from the same company.

There's so little plot in this movie that I felt like I had to start digging the damn hole myself. The characters are introduced in the most basic of character archetypes, geek, tough but loyal friend to geek, arrogant one, "hot sister", and old intellectual and romantic nemesis, who is now pissed-off, corporate, and power-hungry. Jokes and criticisms are thrown like fire (ha!) the first fifteen minutes; I leaned over to my viewing companion and said, "If they all hate each other so much, why are they even talking to each other?" My companion responded quickly, "Money." And that, my friends, is of course the root of all evil. It is why studios see green now in comic-book adaptations, and why after more than ten years of active development, a way was found to finally get this "World's Greatest Comic Magazine" to the screen. The look and mood of Fantastic Four owes so much to Sam Raimi's Spider-Man films -- a bright, optimistic post-9/11 New York where even firemen can be saved but where all crowds "hail a hero". Yet they worship fame even more, and that's where this picture finds it's one small dichotomy.

When the five "colleagues" (I'm trying to think of a less-grouping word but I can't at the moment) take a seemingly very abrupt mission to the space station to capture some energy rays for some reason I can't remember or care to, they are all surprised by the rather rapid arrival of said cosmic ray, which hadn't been expected for another six hours. Gotcha! As they return to Earth, each of them find that they are experiencing their own personal nirvana, or rather, hell, exagerrating their "natural" personalities to find their physical bodies are changing in "fantastic" ways. Reed attains the power to stretch in all manner of ways, Sue gains the power of invisibility -- although also these strange quantum-like force field powers which are not explained whatsoever. Johnny, the resident "hothead", of course gains control of his "flaming personality", and Ben tragically transforms into a rock-like creature ever so kindly called "The Thing." Victor Von Doom is also undergoing a strange transformation of his own -- wouldn't it be great if he actually grew a new character out of his head? -- in a change from his comic-origin, Doom's skin and physical structure transforms mecho-organically, in other words, he's becoming part metal, folks.

And that's about it. The four heroes struggle to deal with their newfound fame and powers, while Doom struggles to attain more and more power, and to get revenge on his former colleagues for the cosmic space accident. Fans of Ioan Gruffold from Hornblower and elsewhere really won't find much to enjoy here, other than a few sporadic scenes where he looks beautiful but doesn't say anything -- his attempted New York/American accent grounds him so flatly into the film's world that he disappears, and frankly his character is such a wimp most of the time (or accused of being such) that you almost want Doom to get the girl and win anyway. The choice of Jessica Alba for this role really puzzles me. While guys tend to dig her physically (although I must say she's never done a thing for me), her quote-unquote "acting" ability or presence on screen mostly just really annoys the hell out of me. Her first entrance "in costume" is particularly cringe-inducing, not only for her lack of talent and emotion, but for the extremely obvious "enhancement" of her central anatomy in a scene which has just featured a comic moment focusing on completely zipping-up somebody else. [I have a real dislike of Alba as a personality and actress, but I'll save you my complete rant on it right here. My friends hear it enough from me.]

I actually found some minor interest in Doom's development as well, although other than his helmet, his final "costume" is not explained whatsoever. The film suffers from its struggle to appeal to a mainstream, "hip" audience while also reflecting over 60 years worth of comic history and the establishment of a villain who pre-dated Darth Vader and just about everyone else in contemporary popular culture. This version of Fantastic Four seems based more on Marvel's "Ultimate" comic line, which concentrates on re-establishing central popular characters such as Spider-Man and Fantastic Four and younger, more contemporary versions of their classically-minded counterparts.

The main problem with Fantastic Four, the movie, is that despite a reported $100 million-plus budget, the film still looks more like a television series-pilot, and reflects sensibilities that will date the movie in the years that follow. It's chief faults are once again the script and the direction. Picking a mildy successful Barbershop-experienced Tim Story (ironic, that name) to direct, when they could have had someone like Chris Columbus (who was attached to the project through its early development) is a grave mistake here. While I understand that comic sensibilities were wanted for this more humorous bunch of heroes, the script was clearly not of any caliber that just-any director could do anything greater with. In other words, it all comes back to the story. If you don't have a good one, you're out from day one. Fantastic Four apparently went through numerous last-minute reshoots, which included re-shooting most of the last 20 minutes of the action climax (Fox gave up $20 million more for these efforts). It's sad to say that even the climax that now ends the film is mildly-interesting at best, and short. Stranger still, versions of the film with different scenes cut-in have surfaced in theatres in South America and Europe, possibly indicating that Fox up to release date still wasn't quite sure which version of the film they thought best to release.

Chiklis' Thing is by far the most heartfelt and interesting character in a movie that could have been so much more. There are a few moments with the Thing where you really understand from this actor and character how much of a personal hell he must endure to be stuck in this pitiable rock form for the rest of his human existence. Like the movie, it's a little, but it could have been so much more. When a probable $150 million in production and marketing costs is spent on a feature film, I just want something more from my entertainment, a little more heart and competence, something that inspires me to be a better person in this life, something that takes me away for a few hours and makes me forget that perhaps all of this money could go to something more worthwhile, like third world debt relief that would save thousands of lives. That audiences in America and elsewhere have turned out to see this pretty mediocre family-friendly film to the tune of more than $200 million worldwide so far, despite almost universally bad reviews, really says something about the ambivalence of the state of the moviegoing public today. I'm not sure just what quite yet -- I'll get back to you on that...

Friday, July 29, 2005

On Deadly Ground ... and ... Eros



Yes, I'll admit this is quite a strange pairing -- but this is how my mind has been running lately, gotta love the trash and the art!

Caught this Steven Seagal movie on TV here a week ago. What a crock, but deserves a quick note as one of the last, desperate attempts at 80s (although by this time it was already 1994) tough-guy nihilism and mysogyny. This concerns Seagal as a half-Native oil company "enforcer" (or at least that's how I took it) who eventually realizes that the company he is working for is part of some very dodgy dealings and corporate pollution in the Alaskan mountains. Michael Caine, playing the nasty corporate oil magnate, seems like he's covered in oil himself, or at least in plastic from head to toe (including his jet-black hairpiece), and R. Lee Ermey (he of Full Metal Jacket, sargeant!) shows up as a bounty hunter. Joan Chen is along for the ride ... what the hell happened to her? Actually, after having looked up her career I realize nothing truly great ever did... She completed a successful craptastic (or would that just be crap?) triumverate by starring with Christopher Lambert, Seagal, and Sylvester Stallone in some of their worst-ever projects, in the span of just two years! This movie has a climactic blow-em-all-up scene that had me in tears of laughter, with Seagal and Chen about to make their epic run, Seagal once again uses his "possesive pointy-finger" technique, and tells Chen, "Whatever you do, just don't look back! Don't look back!" Ahh, I was enjoying this one for days afterward... The choice moment between her and Seagal comes when they both are on the run in the mountains, and get on some horses. "Can you ride?" Seagal asks. "Of course, I'm Native American" Chen replies. The score by Conan man Basil Poledouris reaches new heights of craptacular-ness, and the mix n' match of mystical mumbo-jumbo and hard-core vengeance makes one almost run for the hills. True fact: Seagal directed this thing! And it includes a somewhat sober, longer than usual and just ever-so-slightly positive environmental message at the film's end, by Seagal himself, "in character".




On the other hand, having just caught Eros, an anthology film about the erotic nature of romance, I am once again astounded and inspired by the artfulness displayed by filmmakers such as Wong Kar-Wai and yes, Steven Soderbergh -- however Michaelangelo Antonioni's chapter here leaves much to be desired (and is rather easier to simply call "crap").

Director Wong Kar-Wai (pictured above) once again proves that he knows more about love and soul-searching than most of us, and that he conveys the kind of epic drama of our lives and loves in a story that only lasts one-half hour is, in my opinion, extraordinary. Kar-Wai has now done three films in a row based in 1960s Hong Kong, yet he continues to have new things to say about love in any period of life. Gong Li shines here. A somewhat neglected actress in the latter half of the 1990s, after gaining much recognition for her roles in early Zhang Yimou films, Li here seems to be on a comeback in both presence and posture. After filling a small but important role in last year's 2046 (also by Kar-Wai), Gong Li will next be seen in a pivotal role in Rob Marshall's Memoirs of a Geisha, long in-development with Steven Spielberg, who eventually abandoned the project. Also appearing in Miami Vice and Young Hannibal (gosh I hope that's not the title), 2006 should prove an exciting year for Gong Li. Still, teaming up with Ken Watanabe, Zhang Ziyi, and Michelle Yeoh in Geisha will provide great exposure to audiences in the west for these formidable east asian talents (but that also doesn't change the strange fact that in Geisha, most of these are Chinese or Hong Kong actors playing Japanese roles...). "The Hand", Kar-Wai's film segment in Eros, also stars Chang Chen (of Crouching Tiger and 2046) as an emotionally tortured tailor, who crafts clothes for Gong Li's character for years while undeniably falling in love with her. It's a wonderful piece of work that deserves to be seen more widely than this film's distribution has seemingly allowed.

Soderbergh's segment, "Equilibrium", is also quite good, starring Robert Downey, Jr. (still one of our best living actors I'd say) as a 1950s advertising man who's having strange erotic dreams. He's telling his story to psychologist Alan Arkin, who, in a wonderful performance, nearly steals the short film from Downey. There are twists and great physical comedy here, but it'll probably be most fulfilling for fans of these two gifted actors.

The less said about Antonioni's segment, the better. It's sad to see that the director behind such important pictures like Blow-Up has succombed to this souless, sub-Hal Hartley dribble about a fading marriage. The scenery of Italy is nice, but there's little else to recommend this.

Eros is still very much worth searching out, however, for fans of great love and loss, and those whose hearts can understand just as much humor as pathos.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Year of the Bat

A Current Assessment of the Bat-franchise

Batman Begins

The artwork you are seeing above was commissioned based on the "look" of the character from the new Warner Bros. film, and has been used for various film-related product releases. Whether or not this means anything to you, the fact is that the Batman character, published in comic books for over 50 years by DC Comics, remains one of Warner Bros. pictures' (owner of DC Comics) greatest financial "assets". In other words, The Bat brings in major money for the studio. Since the first "serious" Batman film broke box-office records in 1989, Warner Bros. has flooded the market with innumerable Bat-themed products, everything from toothpaste to toys to animated series.

Batman Begins is meant to chart the origins of this longstanding character, who, through perseverance and tenacity, has managed to survive a half a century despite numerous creative upheavals, silly interpretations and financial failures (in comics, film and tv). I thought the best way to tackle this "review" of the new film might be to illuminate some of the many different media "variations" of Batman that are on the market right now (or that have been in the last decade or so), in the hopes that one might better understand why Batman Begins begs the question: who is Batman, really? The answer is much more complicated than you might think. First, the reason I am writing here is the focal point of this current "Year of the Bat", the rough name that could be given to Warner Bros. marketing blitz of associated products and DVDs which will this year accompany the release of the new movie Batman Begins. This is a problematic film, however, not least so because of general audience confusion over exactly what they believe Batman to be...



Batman Begins is intended as a re-start of the Warner Bros. Bat-franchise -- a re-boot, if you will, of existing continuity and characterizations. Think of it as if you were re-booting or re-freshing your computer, deleting all the messy "links" and needless materials, and re-starting only with the basic programs and files needed. Many comic books have gone through this kind of transformation in the past few decades, both at DC and Marvel (DC's main competitor), wherein existing chracters' history is, in effect, written away with the intention of starting with a clean slate.

Warner Bros. had a distinct problem on their hands when they were sorting through various approaches to a new Batman film during the past eight years. Though the original intention had been to proceed with "Batman Triumphant", director Joel Schumacher's next mooted title for the fifth installment of the 1980s/90s film series, once Batman and Robin (1997) arrived in theaters and general audience and critical reaction factored well below expectations, the studio saw the need to re-furbish the franchise, or rather, "go another way." Various approaches were attempted, then aborted, everything from a futuristic concept (an adaptation of the short-lived 1990s animated series Batman Beyond) to a Batman vs. Superman film (in discussions as late as 2002).

Talking about these various aspects of the film franchise is problematic in itself, because in approaching Batman Begins, these are all concepts that the filmmaking team strove to detach themselves from. At the very least, they put forth through numerous press interviews that Batman's origin story "had never been told before" in detail. The film's director, writer, and actors positioned themselves on a separate plane from the previous films in the series, and emphasized that, while they might have "admired" certain aspects of Tim Burton's first two films, they felt that they were telling a story that "needed" to be told, and that in fact Begins would have no relation to any previous film versions of the character. Begins director Christopher Nolan had previously helmed the much talked about (but not by me) Memento, the rather ironically titled Insomnia (an American remake of a superior Norwegian film) and curious indie Following. He was without a doubt an interesting choice to take on the Batman franchise, and he enlisted David Goyer, writer and producer of the Blade franchise (and co-writer of Dark City) to help him craft the story. Though the pair claim that there were no real "mandates" from the studio with regards to the film's major thematic layout, other than it being "romantic" and "different", it's easy to see that even the studio itself realized it had taken the camp too far during the last film, and wanted a movie that would re-plant the seeds for a new, successful franchise.

But is Batman Begins truly a "separate entity"? Moreover, how can it ever be?

As we see, in Begins, which opens with a flashback to Bruce Wayne's childhood traumatic moment of falling into a well that leads to a cave full of bats beneath Wayne Manor, the film intends itself on the surface to be the "definitive" and "true" detailing of the dark knight's origins. There's a serious and somber honesty and intensity to the film and its approach to its characters that, at times, threatens to throw the movie just over the edge into silliness. The moments focusing one Bruce Wayne's childhood are the best, and most heart-affecting. Linus Roache, a gifted actor who also had a scene-stealing role in the otherwise critically derided The Chronicles of Riddick (2004), here plays Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father, for a few scenes, and his small moments are tremendously affecting. As father rescues son from the well, his "Why do we fall, Bruce?" becomes one of the central recurring themes in the film. The simple but affective answer, "So we can learn to pick ourselves up again" is touching in its simplicity, if rather trite when compared to the complex characterization which the Wayne/Batman figure is known for in the comics.

Though Begins is meant to literally "re-start" the film franchise, the studio seems wary of abandoning the central ideas and concepts of Batman and the previous films completely. Despite being an "origin" story, the narrative is structured in such a way as to position Bruce Wayne as an "exile" returning to Gotham City. Numerous references are made thematically and through dialogue to the previous franchise's established ideas. Wayne's re-emergence in Gotham is greeted with surprise, but no real shock (even though his own company has had Wayne declared "legally dead"). Alfred greets Bruce on an airfield in Asia with a wry, "Mr. Wayne, you've been gone a long time." This clip was used in many of the promotional trailers for the film, in effect "announcing" that Batman was "returning" to cinema screens.

In the first hour or so of the film, we are given Bruce Wayne's defining moments in childhood, the death of his parents at gunpoint by a mugger named Joe Chill (no, he does not later become the Joker), his college years as he returns to confront his parents' killer, and his years spent somewhere in Asia losing, and finally, finding himself with the help of Ra's Al Ghul (an underused Ken Watanabe), his "voicepiece" Ducard, and their "League of Shadows". Again, it's the quietest moments which are the best here, as Ducard educates Wayne on all manner of meditation, fighting and "fear", how to confront your own and use it against your enemy. Ducard (played with complete commitment by Liam Neeson) tells Wayne one night out in the wilderness that he has "not always lived up here in the mountains", and that he, too, once lost someone he loved dearly. Here we see the parallels form between Wayne and Ducard, and it is how we can later understand the the subtle differences between choosing one kind of vengeance over another.



As Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham City, which, since his departure some seven years ago, has become corrupt "at all levels of government", he sees the need to "use fear against those who prey on the fearful", and enlists the aid of sidelined Wayne Enterprises employee Lucious Fox (a lively Morgan Freeman) to school him on various non-commissioned battle gear that the company had originally developed for use by the military. These are nice moments, grossly missing from the previous films, which give plausible explanations on just how a man could utilize his resources to achieve his somewhat unorthodox goals. Throughout Bruce's development, his longstanding butler, and surrogate father figure, Alfred (played with heart by Michael Caine), guides him on his path to becoming something ...else.

Once Wayne dons the "cape and cowl" and becomes Batman, the film takes on an even greater pace, exploring his first adventures in the "Narrows", a downtrodden section of Gotham City which resembles a mix of Hong Kong's Kowloon district, and the gothically-tinged world of The Crow (1994) -- which many people thought was what the original Batman film "should have looked like". In his first few evenings out on the town, he encounters Jonathan Crane, a.k.a. "The Scarecrow", who spends his days as a doctor at Arkham Asylum and his nights terrorizing assistant D.A.'s like Rachel Dawes (a barely tolerable Katie Holmes, out of her league here). Crane is given this name due to his regular donning of a scarecrow-type mask, which enhances the hallucinogenic effects on his victims after he sprays them with such "weaponized hallucinogens" he's developed in tandem with a mysterious third party.



Soon the Batman, after making first impressions, enlists the help of rising detective James Gordon (a game and always enjoyable Oldman), in determining the true nature of the conspiratorial forces facing the city. One of the good strengths of Begins is that the character of Gordon becomes much more central in Wayne's tumultuous double life; indeed Gordon, in a touching moment, comforts Wayne immediately following his parents' death. Gordon in this film is the one honest cop in a sea of corruption, and as a good friend of mine recently noted, "I'd like to see a movie just about that guy." It's great to see Oldman playing against type lately, as a good, honest presence. In both this film and his wonderful mysterious role in last year's Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Oldman has proved that he can pull just as much dramatic weight out of a heroic character as an evil or insane one.



Though his role is fairly small in Begins, it will likely grow should there be a sequel (Chris Cooper reportedly turned down the role due to its lack of dramatic weight, but I think Oldman, who I'd rather see in this part anyway, saw the future potential). The filmmakers' approach to Gordon briefly reflects the character's establishment in the seminal graphic novel, Batman: Year One. Moments such as these, though not specifically "accurate" to their comic origins, further serve to thicken the film's relationship to the comics its based on. Almost to a fault, characters in Begins regularly refer to Batman as "The Batman", in a way they never have in the films before...(although Michelle Pfeiffer's Selina Kyle character did ask the question in 1992's Batman Returns, muttering something like: "Wow, The Batman...or is it just, Batman... Your choice, of course...")

Wayne later encounters Ra's Al Ghul again, in a different guise, and the very foundations of his father's legacy begin to crumble around him, as he desperately searches for a way to stop the city from imploding. To say more would spoil the adventure for those who have not seen the film (or who will eventually do so on DVD), but my true concerns here lie with the nature of Batman Begins as a cultural and marketable object -- and how that plays into both its content and its relatively cool box office reception.

For in Batman Begins, there are clear references to previous Bat-films, whether consciously chosen or not. Though Christian Bale chooses to adopt a mostly similar gruff, muted tone when he is operating as Batman, the choice of "voice" is really not all that different from what Michael Keaton attempted to do throughout most of his two Batman films. There are a few nice scenes where Bale actually shows some threat as Bats, but mostly his performance in costume is as stilted and low-key as Keaton's -- although unlike Keaton's performance, I feel many of Bale's moments veer just on the edge of ludicrous pompousness within the "realistic" world the filmmakers have established. There's also a serious lack of charm here. While Burton filled his fantasy Bat-universe with dark humor and sadistic undertones that, if not appealing to everyone, at least reflected the world they had been established in, Begins lacks a geographical center -- the movie was filmed primarily in London studios, Chicago streets and Iceland. You never quite get a feel for how locations relate to each other, because the emotional tone of the film only reflects Bruce's sensibility, and his alone -- surely even in a largely "corrupt" Gotham City, there are some happy people? "The Tumbler", what will later be known as "The Batmobile", is equally rather machinistic and hard-core for the sake of being tough and different, rather than being "realistic"...

Yet there are still many similarities to what has come before. Another strangely familiar element is the costume, which aesthetically really isn't all that different from Val Kilmer's main outfit in Batman Forever (1995). There are even some rapid "suiting up" shots in Batman Begins that bring flashes of memory of director Schumacher's much less desirable take on the character. Thematically and through dialogue, Bale here again, like Keaton, has an "I'm Batman" moment, and it's played in a fairly similar context as the moment in Burton's 1989 film. Also, there's a strange homage to the 1960s Batman television series in the notes that Bruce Wayne must press on an old piano to enter the elevator down to his real "bat cave."

Moments like these, layered with a score by James Newton-Howard and Hans Zimmer which ever so tastefully conveys Batman's heart and soul, but also his campness, are fairly regular in Begins, despite the filmmakers' claims that this movie was meant to start completely anew. This is the trouble with re-introducing a franchise character into features, after eight years away and considerable success in other media outlets. Some people claim this film was under-marketed. Other members of the general public seem to come out of the movie thinking that the conlusion of this narrative, with its teasing reference to the emergence of a popular villain, leads seamlessly into Burton's 89 Batman. Still other press write-ups have claimed that this film is a "prequel." What is the answer?



Batman Begins is really all of these and none of these at the same time. In a way, it's hard to blame Warner Bros. for any marketing failures in this new Batman adventure, for really, how else could they have sold it to the public? Minimalist poster designs featuring iconic images of the Batman were really the only way to go (such as the design above, which is a visual knod to the 1940s vision of the character). Including any phrases such as "every story has a beginning" would only serve to further confuse audiences into thinking that this film directly connects itself to the previous entries. I've noticed numerous mis-writes in publications, and by friends and colleagues, who mistakenly call Batman Begins by another name -- that of Burton's second film, Batman Returns. Many audiences still have memories of the 1990s franchise (whether good or bad), and not only see this film as a "return" to the same franchise, but are also justifiably wary of yet another film, and another actor -- a commercially unknown one at that -- taking on the mantle of the Bat.

There are also some tricky moral ambiguities present in the Begins' narrative. When Bruce is asked by Ducard and Ra's Al Ghul to kill a local criminal as a final test of his abilities in the League of Shadows, he refuses and escapes by setting the dojo on fire and literally fighting his way out. Interestingly, he chooses to save Ducard (Neeson) rather than the petty criminal whose life he has just refused to take, and is blown out of the burning building as the audience assumes everyone else inside has bitten the dust. Later, in a climactic moment, Batman tells an enemy, "I won't kill you, but I don't have to save you." One of the central ideals of what makes Batman different from any other vigilante is that he does not kill. Begins' ambiguities in these areas, as well as a violent car chase in which Batman's Tumbler topples numerous police cars in an effort to escape capture and save the life of one person precious to him, further shade the moralities of the central character.

However, there are some plot points that do bode well for the future of this new Bat-film series, should it continue. One of the most intriguing and smart elements of the Begins is the way in which it establishes a "heightened reality", wherein the "escalation" of Batman as a mysterious "creature of the night" unbeholden to the police's jurisdiction could actually encourage and attract multiple types of disturbed and psychotic persons to Gotham. In Gordon's talk with Batman in the final minutes of the movie, upon the police department rooftop where he has intuitively just fashioned a way to shine a "Bat-signal" out of a spotlight, Gordon alludes to this idea of "escalation", and the danger that if "you wear kevlar, they buy armor-piercing bullets..." At once threatening and exciting, this is the moment where we realize that Batman's very beginning may cause more problems for his defense of Gotham than even he realizes. It establishes a world where the stranger and more disturbing of Batman's nemeses can conceivably introduce themselves...

Batman Begins had stellar reviews in most territories, but achieved less-than stellar results on its opening weekend (or at least, less than most people were predicting). The fact that its three-day weekend total was outgrossed by the much more critically questionable Mr. & Mrs. Smith one week earlier has not gone unnoticed. There is a massive box-office slump in the United States this year, likely due to major increases in downloading, families preferring to stay home and enjoy DVDs, and general audience apathy at the "quality" of Hollywood films these days. This is surely a factor, but with War of the Worlds grossing some $35 million on its opening day alone, is it possible that Begins arrived a bit too soon for most audiences?

In fact, some of my favorite images from Batman Begins are indeed those that don't seem to have made it into the final version of the film -- like this one:



I know what you're thinking -- what do I really think? Well, I liked it, but then again I didn't... While at moments I found myself gripped by some of Begins' performaces and plot trappings, I must confess that there are an equal number of moments in the film which either felt silly, or rather cold to me, as if telling the story in this visual mood and manner was more important than actually conveying it in a heartfelt way. Oddly enough, I feel that the film's score is one of its surest emotional throughlines. In the continuous percussionary trumpets in the main musical themes of the film, we feel Batman/Wayne's relentless need to restore both his city and his own destiny. It's some stirring scoring that very rarely goes over-the-top or underneath the radar; it's rather like the character himself -- always hovering there, even though you may not notice him.

The sound-mixing itself, however, is slightly less impressive -- I've seen the movie twice now and I still have trouble deciphering every piece of dialogue in certain loud sequences. In terms of pacing, the film does move, though; it definitely doesn't feel like the two-and-a-quarter hours that is actually is. In terms of how it actually portrays Batman and other characters from the comics, its strong and confident, appealingly true to its source material in many ways, but just as unfaithful in numerous others. In fact, I'd argue that Begins actually has just as much of a confusing relationship to its source material as any of the other films did (it surely has just as many punny one-liners, if not more). Sure, this may be a movie that the Batman fanboys love, but will anyone else be emotionally invested in watching this ten, or even five years down the line? Will its drama and characters last, or will its luster fold, like Schumacher's films, and moments of Burton's first two chapters, into the pop cultural myst? I'm not sure...

Coming up next, I'll introduce you to some of the finer reasons to get interested in the Batman this year -- and interestingly, most of them have more to do with animation than live-action...

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

It take guts to be gentle and kind...

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

I was impressed by this film - then again, I went in after a week of marathon researching and writing on my PhD, so I was fully anticipating something to take me away from the monotony of the daily world, and into a universe far, far away.

Whatever my mood, the fact is I thought this film was engaging on precisely the level that it should be, and that's all that matters. A good friend of mine recently wrote of his disappointment over the harsh criticism the film is receiving, or rather the "faint praise", such as: "well, it's certainly much better than the last two, but that isn't saying much." Or, "Lucas' interest in the less-human side of filmmaking is still quite apparent." These are cop-out, easy answers.

Yes, of course Lucas has a special effects company to run, and of course he will want to create projects for that facility that give them work, but many forget that Lucas' own interest in technology spans back to the beginning of his career. From the beginning, Lucas has been interested in what you could call the "basic human [or possibly male] instincts", war, fascination with technology, racing, and coming of age. Lucas channelled all of these into the first Star Wars film he completed in 1977 -- and cannily turned it into a movie/product franchise the likes of which the world has not seen since.

Right before the first Star Wars prequel was released in 1999, I can remember feeling this intense excitement at seeing the first trailer, getting caught up in it all, even though I had never been a huge, huge fan of Star Wars when I was kid -- though in general you could say I had as much of an interest in the original movies as anyone else. I had some figures and toys, and used to check out my friend's much better collection at his house. Above all, in these last couple of decades, Lucas has become a savvy marketer, shamelessly pushing a never-ending stream of Star Wars products onto the marketplace, never fearing or succumbing to the increasing amount of criticism he received for slowly turning himself into what his very stories were about -- an Evil Empire. Still, the excitement surrounding the release of Episode I: The Phantom Menace, arguably surpassed any movie hype since Batman (1989), and I fully admit I was as caught up in it as everyone else. I saw The Phantom Menace maybe three or four times at the historic Senator Theatre in Baltimore, Maryland -- a venue that, like the rebellion in the original Star Wars films, has faced destruction [close of business] many times, but through hope, perseverance and collegial support, has ultimately triumphed [and survived] at the last possible moment.

When The Phantom Menace was released, the criticism of Lucas' enormous ambitions and antiquated sensibilities began to flow. I was indeed aware of all this criticism, but like most others, was willing to deal with the awful voices that constituted the "Trade Federation" and "Jar-Jar Binks" in order to reach that climactic 20 minutes just once more. Mainly, I was impressed by the much underwritten but very nicely stylized and well-trained character of Darth Maul, and the 2-on-1 duel that occupied much of the film's final moments. The choreography of that fight, partly accomplished by the actor who played Maul himself (though not in voice), Ray Park, surpassed any fight sequence in the original Star Wars movies. I came back a few times just to experience the tension in that final reel. I felt the pod race had some good energy as well.

Upon the release of Episode II: Attack of the Clones, three years later, the Star Wars community was a "once bitten, twice shy" sort of crowd, wary of what might come, but looking forward to the progression of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi's story, in the hope that the eventual darker turns in their careers might somehow add gravity to this new set of films. Sadly, "Clones" turned out to be much of the same (in this critic's opinion), if not, somehow, even intangibly weaker than Episode I in some respects. [Could this have something to do with the fact that at least some of Episode I was filmed in/on real-world settings, whereas by Episode II, nearly 100% of the film was shot on studio sets?] Still, I again enjoyed the final twenty minutes or so, and like most others, hooted greatly when experiencing Yoda's first visualized fight sequence (though it could have lasted just a bit longer), with the great Christopher Lee (as Count Dooku/Lord Tyrannus). Although I must say, tremendously noticeable to me, and to some others with interest, was the somewhat shoddy computer design for melding Christopher Lee's stunt/action double with his actual head. If you pause select frames, you can probably see what I am talking about. Dreadful, dreadful stuff, and for Lucas' ILM (Industrial Light & Magic), still one of the premiere special effects houses in the business, it's inexcusable. I also found some minor fulfilment in the paralleling of Luke's loss of limb at the finale of The Empire Strikes Back, as here (in "Clones"), Anakin"s arrogance causes him to lose his forearm to Count Dooku's sabre. There were problems as usual -- the dialogue was still mostly atrocious, and barrenness of most of the central performances kind of makes the whole thing feel dry, like sandpaper (natch). I'm still not sure about the strange, A.I. -like aliens who specialized in cloning, though they were an interesting diversion for a Lucas-controlled narrative. And while I found Jango Fett's story mildly intriguing, I had much more of a feeling that Lucas here was pandering to the fanboys who had developed a following for the relatively minor original series character Boba Fett throughout the years.

Now, I have seen Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and what can I say? I had thought about this day ever since finishing with Episode II, as to where I would be in the world, and what I would be doing, when this day would come. Thoughts like these I feel are not only reserved for "ultimate fans" or "fanboys," but are simply a reflection of the meaning of a globally-known and considered film franchise and its place in our world. Soon, I was able to come to the conclusion that, due to my impending status as a PhD student, I would likely be enjoying (or not) this movie during the climactic period of accomplishing the written work for my thesis, which is in fact where I am right now.

First off, I'll admit that my increasing work deadlines directly influenced a two-week delay in seeing the film at the cinemas -- and more importantly, that I wasn't that bothered by it. Yes, my expectations, like many others', had been tempered by the last two films, and the fact that, well, I was really growing up, and was this stuff of my interest anymore when Lucas seemed to be primarily aiming these new prequels at children? The trailers didn't really change my mind, to be honest, other than a shot or two of a hooded and scarred Chancellor Palpatine/Darth Sidious/The Emperor throwing a nasty look at the camera. Would the actors get any more time to breathe in between Lucas' (and whatever ghost scriptwriter he had with him this time) corny dialogue? Would the story involve something more interesting that trade disputes and "separatist movements"? Would this supposed finale to Lucas' Star Wars feature franchise actually feature anything memorable?


In my opinion, the answer to all of the above questions is a resounding "YES." Like I said at the beginning of this piece, maybe it was the mood I went into the film with, or maybe it was the summer season bringing some kind of open-minded willingness to accept a fun diversion, but for the most part I really, really enjoyed Episode III, and I'd like to tell you about it.

[I'll assume here that most of you reading this are familiar with general Star Wars lore and history, and have also probably already seen this film. Many narrative "spoilers" will be discussed.]



From the moment this movie begins I found much more to get engrossed in, to think about, and most importantly, to feel. Someone said to me just before I wrote this, that he felt the film could have used a Han Solo-type character, some "human" presence to root for amidst all the mystic Jedis, countless androids and curious aliens. I couldn't disagree more -- what this film had to me that the first two prequels didn't, was a heart. If you want to take me literally, please look first to the astonishing moment when Obi-Wan, in a desperate attempt to gain an advantage, cracks open General Grievous' metal chest to find, wonder of all wonders, a beating heart struggling to survive. Now we see why the creatively conceived Grievous has been strangely coughing throughout his earlier few appearances in the film. Could it be perhaps that Grievous represents an early sinister "experiment" by Palpatine to mold the flesh with the machine? "Nothing good can come of this." Indeed. There is real empathy and tragedy in this moment. This new "heartfelt" approach is also borne out in the portrayal of Yoda on screen (once again, completely digitally rendered by ILM). As a good friend of mine noted, Yoda's "clutching at the heart" scene, and all the rest of his appearances, felt as real as any other heartfelt moment I'd seen in recent cinema.

I laughed out loud at the early back-and-forth between Anakin and Obi-Wan as they attempt to rescue a "captured" Chancellor Palpatine from General Grievous' ship [This might very well have been where some of the rumoured Tom Stoppard script assistance was]. The space battle here that opens the film includes some unbelievable shots and angles, bringing you immediately and fully into a major battle which seems to be getting closer and closer in style and ferocity to the kind of showdowns and dogfights which we see in Episode's IV, V and VI. When Skywalker and Kenobi get into the ship and discover where Palpatine is, the room is dark, ominous, empty. No guards. You know something is not right. And then Count Dooku shows up.

Given a decently rousing battle at the conclusion of Episode II, Christopher Lee again here wholly embodies the character, who leaps somewhat inexplicably (more on this digital trickery later) from a loft above, onto equal footing with Anakin and Obi-Wan. As Obi-Wan advises Anakin, "This time, we'll take him together", I felt the excitement in my emotions. Still, though Anakin does not charge into the battle as he did so immodestly in Episode II, Obi-Wan here is soon dispatched under a piece of the ship's wall by Dooku. So Anakin must again face this snarling, sinister and charming presence who now exclaims almost joyfully, "I've been looking forward to this." Anakin says something like, "My skills have doubled since last we met", but Lee counters wonderfully with "Good. Twice the pride. Double the fall." It's a wonderful piece of dialogue delivered perfectly by Lee, who at 83 (though I believe only 80 when most of the filming took place) is looking and sounding just as powerful as he did on screen 40 years ago. He is still one of our most under-appreciated actors. After Anakin slices off Dooku's hands, and holds him in a double-lightsaber embrace of death, Palpatine assumes his Sith lord voice, and tells Anakin forcibly, "Kill him."

Though the boy struggles, he soon makes that choice that we know will push him a significant notch further down the path to the dark side; and right before he removes Dooku's head, Lee gives a look of utter surprise and contempt to Palpatine, as he realizes that this old "chancellor" is indeed more evil and greedy than he could possibly fathom. Lee's time on-screen in brief here, but the battle, and his subsequent downfall, leaves an impression that nothing is certain in this film, and that everything and everyone has the potential to be corrupted, or die horribly.

The rest of the film begins the rapid descent for Anakin, to a horrifying defeat by Obi-Wan which will solidify him becoming Darth Vader. As the film progresses, Anakin begins to experience dreams, nightmares about his wife (Padme Amidala, a much more free-to-experience Natalie Portman) and impending childbirth. Her news of pregnancy barely registers with Anakin before he is called upon to "have an audience" with Senator Palpatine, who wants Anakin to be his "eyes and ears" on the Jedi Council. The Council also asks Anakin to spy on Palpatine's dealings. So, already here we have a much more interesting emotional tug-of-war than was happening in the previous two films. It doesn't matter if Hayden Christensen is not Marlon Brando when it comes to acting and emoting, because everything else makes up for it here.

In Episode III, the actors actually get time to act instead of just recite the stilted dialogue presented to them. I really enjoyed Natalie Portman's extended moments, and Ewan McGregor's sighs and dreadful pauses as he increasingly realizes that everything he's worked so hard for in this boy is disappearing, and that things in general are going to hell. But the greatest presence, and performance, in this film has got to be Ian McDiarmid's subtle, engrossing and finally disturbing portrayal of a Palpatine, who in this film ascends to Emperor. My favourite scenes in this film are the ones where he is coaxing and manipulating Anakin, none more so than the confrontation between Palpatine and Mace Windu (a purely into-his-role Samuel L. Jackson), which escalates into anger, hate and fear as Anakin arrives and is forced to choose a side. To give a reason for the Emperor's old-dry facial appearance (as he is later seen in Return of the Jedi) is a nice touch here; and Palpatine's manipulation of Anakin, acting weak and battered as if he is about to die, pulled me back and forth between dread, fear and anticipation. The moments following, when Palpatine rises and shows fully his scarred, bulbous face, seem at once a bad makeup job and literally more disturbing than I could imagine. The way his voice modulates between sanity and insanity in these fragile moments, as he determines the path that will provide the layout for the next three films, was immensely gripping to me. As he dons the hood that will later be part of his signature look as the Emperor, I realized how it was all coming together in this film. Some may find it laughable, but I think they're missing the point. This film (and all of Lucas's Star Wars movies) are immensely indebted to 1930s adventure serials, which often featured strange, twisted villains who were not always completely eliminated by journeys' end. People who criticize moments like this I feel are forgetting the very sentiments which prescribe how you should view these films from the very beginning: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

The Jedi massacres that follow, and the build-up to a confrontation we know is coming, but we still do not want to see, achieve an epic-ness that almost returns us to any of the best moments in the original three films. The way in which "Order 66" is executed simply but brilliantly conveys how the Clone troopers turn on their own Republic and become Galactic Stormtroopers. Lucas's son, in a fine cameo, gallantly defends Senator Bail Organa (Jimmy Smits) and battles a barrage of clones before he is painfully struck down. Revenge of the Sith is as close as Lucas is going to get to replicating the feeling behind his original films -- and it'

s precisely because he must link it to those films. John Williams' score here once again impresses (it's always been one of the superior elements), but in this film the dark, depressing mood of events causes Williams to go deeper into a chasm of dread than he's possibly ever done, barring some of his score for Schindler's List. The sound mixing in this film is phenomenal as well, again a high point of this filmmaking aspect was to me the cracking open of General Grievous' chest.

One of the nice surprises here is Palpatine's confrontation with Yoda -- a moment never really alluded to in the original trilogy, but surely in place with both story and mythology in Lucas' universe. It's great seeing Yoda twist and parry one last time, and I definitely got the feeling that this is the battle which changed Yoda's perception of his place in the universe -- and how he must learn to survive in it. "Failed, I have", he says later. That is the grand theme of this film: everyone fails in their respective missions to aid, influence or defeat their "chosen ones" -- except for Palpatine.

Finally, the central narrative point this film leads to, that of the "birth" of Darth Vader, is handled with startling horror and honesty. As Obi-Wan stands at the top of the entrance to his ship, which has landed on Mustafar so that Padme may confront Anakin one last time, we know shit's about to go down. Their duel is forceful, brash, and close, often times veering on intelligibility through its waves of saber twists and flips into midair. It's a stunning piece of battlework that, while possibly not quite eclipsing some of the moves in Episode I's finale, far outweighs it emotionally, as here, we don't really know who to root for. As Anakin's arrogance once again outshines his abilities, the battle ends. Too quickly, too abruptly, you might say -- but isn't that how all duels end? With a slash to a vital organ, not a poke to the edge of skin? Is that not the very point of a duel -- to best your opponent through skill and countenance? Anakin screams "I HATE YOU" as Obi-Wan distressingly walks away. His greatest student has become his greatest loss, his greatest tragedy. Anakin's legs and arms are lost, but who is actually experiencing more pain here?


One of the only major criticisms I really have for this film is that Padme's death is explained away as in essence, "dying from a broken heart". I suppose it is plausible that Anakin has perhaps wounded her so much emotionally (and finally, physically, through his force-choke hold on her in their final moments together), that the stress of birthing twins was too much for her too take. If that is the premise, however, it does not do much good to have a robot doctor say at the start of the scene that "by all indications she is very healthy". Yet, it fits with what I've been considering as the theme of the film -- heartbreak.

Vader's birth, back on an operating table somewhere unexplained, is painful in its visual graphicness. Williams' score melds with Anakin's screams as the robotic limbs are inserted, but the pain we experience is no less because of this attempt at artistic numbing. His scarred face is unrecognizable, and the choice to have the robot in charge of the operation mirror that which repairs Luke's hand at the end of Empire, immediately links us visually and subliminally yet again to the original trilogy. I'd argue that there is an extraordinary kind of merging happening in these scenes, as Lucas cuts back and forth between Vader's "birth"
and Padme's "death", this "making of" an iconic figure of cinema is simultaneously bewildering and enlightening. It's an epiphany of strategic franchise manipulation -- the machines of the future are truly melding with the "damaged" humans of the past. When Vader "rises", I almost felt as if I could laugh, but in a maniacal, kind of knowing way. His movements reflect Frankenstein's monster in their respective clunkiness. It's quite brilliant, in a simple way. Because this iconic figure of villainy is finally given a "origin" scene, some may feel as if a bit of the mystery is taken away in their decades-long attachment to the character, but I think it's something more akin to "I once was lost, but now I am found." He cannot be Anakin anymore (at least on this physical realm), so why not be something else -- why not "embrace the dark side"? Many critics and fans have not taken seriously the "Noooooo" that Vader delivers once the Emperor tells him that he "killed" her. My impression of this moment is not that he is simply distraught that she is dead -- but rather that he very quickly realizes that truth within himself: that he did in fact "kill" her with his very own destructive nature. Vader's "Noooooo" signifies his final loss of human nature, his transformation of being and finally his ascendancy to a position he is most surely qualified for, but will one day abdicate, for those very ideals which he gave up the moment he joined forces with the Emperor. As Lucas features shots of Darth Vader standing side by side with the Emperor on a Star Destroyer (with a very nice small cameo from Moff Tarkin -- is he Grand yet?), the prequels and the later episodes are seamlessly linked.

It is here that I will mention one of my only other strange problems of Episode III, and the prequels in general. There often seems a bit too much "flipping" and acrobatics in the fight sequences; as Lucas was simply not able to accomplish such feats with actors in the original films (yet he was still able to visualize a few). The availability and appropriation of digital technology has allowed for the birth of "digital stunt doubles", which digital artists can create and implement into a scene for moves that human actors could not accomplish (you saw much of this work excellently done in Spider-Man 2). Initially with the Star Wars prequels, there is a feeling that possibly this is all a bit wild, that it significantly places these films in a different era than that which surrounded the original films -- just because they can do it, should they? Yet, even this supposed shift in sensibility can be explained aesthetically -- one could argue that, due to the weariness, loss and dementia instilled in the few remaining "fighters" in the universe because of the seismic shifts caused by the Emperor's ascendancy, the "force", or spirit of the universe, has significantly reduced its overall focus and "effect" on the individuals whom can control and manipulate it. It's a mystical, slightly hazy, probably weak argument, but it can be made.

In the final moments of Episode III, we are given some hope for the future in strict narrative connections to Episode IV which include the final meeting between a downtrodden Yoda, Obi-Wan and Bail Organa, and the trading off of the twins to their separate locations. As the film ends without dialogue, we are allowed to tentatively embrace the future, and yes, go home and open up those DVDs of Episodes IV-VI (though I must say here that I have much less ambition to see Lucas' constant "retro-fitting" of these earlier episodes via digital technology). The choice here to have a musical and montage-laden finale sequence, rather than a piece of dialogue (as Lucas has done with all the films), is a good one. It is Lucas' final attempt to provide a clear link between these much maligned and definitely different prequels to his highly regarded and endlessly toiled-with later episodes. As the film finished, I watched the credits to the end. Admittedly I always do this, as I am often interested in some of these obscure details, and rewarding all the hard work that goes into filmmaking everyday. But this time, I hardly read any of the credits -- I was so in tune with the film, its place in this franchise, its cultural moment, that all I could do was let the music seep through my ears and try to connect with this universe one last time.

It worked for me. Episode III accomplished what it set out to do, in my mind. For some people, that's not enough, but for me (and some others), it's just right. Lucas may not be the same person he once was. Filmmaking may not be the same. Digital technology has changed everything, but the humanity is still there -- if you look for it and work for it. Despite not expecting to (or possibly not even wanting to), I identified with the movie, its characters and its spirit. The creative choices made for this film almost all work, in my opinion. You don't have to like it, but you can find ways to live with it -- and that's what the central characters in this film had to do. Episode III is a phenomenal piece of entertainment on a grand scale. There, I'm a hype machine. So what? I was never a big Star Wars fan, but I sure sound like one, don't I? May the force be with you.

Yes, that was 4,000 words. If you got through it all, let me know and I'll send you a cookie.

Next up, Batman Begins.




Monday, June 13, 2005

The First Post Ever: My name is not David Duchovny

(and no, this isn't a fan page for "House of Flying Daggers")

The Mixmaster interviews Michael D. on the reasons for this blog, his general feelings of woe at the state of the universe, and if he will ever don the Batsuit again (what?)...


So, first off -- why are you starting this blog?

Well, I found that I've got quite a lot to say about movies and life in general that would not conceivably fit into my Ph.D., or any other article of critical repute. Inspired by a very good friend of mine (and another one I haven't even met yet), I have realized my second path in life -- to provide willing participants with an honest, reasonably intelligent and hopefully engaging (and sometimes funny) wire to my thoughts... bzzzzzt...("I have a thought...it's coming...it's coming...it's gone.")

What will be the content on this page?

Generally it will focus on me talking about film, usually movie "reviews". But I will feel free (and my friends will hopefully feel free to read) other matters that travel through my brain from day to day. These will often, but not exclusively, focus on the film industry -- like, for example, "Why is Brett Ratner directing X-Men 3?!"

I want this to be a little interactive, too -- if there is something you want me to write about (or at least write my take on), let me know. For example, I'm still waiting for Dan to write up something on Laurence Fishburne's terrifying performance in What's Love Got to Do With It... I may get to it first!

How often will it be updated?

That I cannot say, but hopefully I'll be able to tune my thoughts at least once a week or so. As soon as we work out the kinks in design (which that friend I haven't met is helping me with), I should be updating regularly. As most my friends will know, however, I am in the final stages of the Ph.D., and I also do not have concrete future plans, thus I will occasionally have moments (or periods) where a void in content will be present... but do not fret, as I intend to eventually show my tiny tail to taunt you all a second (or 500th) time.

What's with the blog title?

"House of D" was just an immediate, gut reaction to my thoughts for a title. It's not seminal, it's not important, and has no greater meaning -- I just thought it was an easy way to identify that "this is my domain." Hey, I also just came up with a title for my Ph.D. in minutes -- but that took three years of gestating...

What's the David Duchovny reference up top mean?

As most of you know, David Duchovny starred as Fox Mulder on The X-Files for more than a decade, and played the same character for the feature film version of the show in 1998. However, as some of you may not know, David Duchovny also has a film, directed by and starring David Duchovny himself, which was released recently (after a year on the shelves), and it just happens to be called House of D. So, I'm just reiterating to anyone who finds my page via "google" or some other swanky search engine, that I am in no way related, friends with, supporting or otherwise engaged in any way with Mr. Duchovny or his frankly crap movie ( at least that's what I've heard -- haven't seen it). However I wouldn't mind at all if the gorgeous Mrs. Duchovny, Ms. Tea Leoni, found this site and decided to read. She's been a favourite of mine for a long time. [By the way, Dan, this is for you -- I recently caught Return to Me on BBC -- code s.s.]

So you have a passion for movie talk, I see.

Yes I do. And as I said, from time to time I'll post things here that may not have to do with films specifically (or may not even be politically correct), but they will usually have to do with popular culture or our current place in this world.

Are you excited about Batman Begins?

Is that a planted question? "Could I be more excited?" is the question! From everything I'm hearing, this is the film the Bat-fans have waited years for. After the adventures in Schumacher-land and the Superman debacle (in development hell for ten years), I was ready to give up on Warner Bros., until I heard this thing was being made. And now, I happily, proudly display my Batman animated figures and related merchandising wherever I want in my flat. You know, David Duchovny was once considered to play Batman...(The interviewer slaps Michael D. to shut him up)

Alright, so what do you hope people get out of this blog?

Hey, I'm not trying to change peoples' lives here -- just to score a place to vent some of my joy and frustrations with the modern world, rather than talking to myself or breathing on other people (which they don't find very pleasant). Hopefully a few people will be interested in what I have to say, and my decision to follow the path of the Dragon...

Any final messages in case this is the only visit someone makes to your page?

Good afternoon, good evening and good night. ...Yep.

Oh, and...Hello to my Parents!


Next up: Why I think Star Wars -- Episode III: Revenge of the Sith is surprisingly heartfelt.