Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino)

So there are two aspects to this movie: the Tarantino dialogue about the mundane and the Tarantino crime portrayal, which is nonlinear and senselessly violent among other things. The former in this film kept me engaged, certainly, but I consider its writing lacking in skill. It seemed forced, and cinematic (or maybe literary) rather than naturalistic. This was a little disappointing; I attribute it to a young screenwriter/director who has not yet seen his energetic scripts fleshed out on the big-screen. This showed up almost singularly in the movie's introduction, however. But the whole structure and style of the Tarantino crime film, which carried out the rest of the movie, was fabulous. The conflicts of ethics and conflicts of logic between characters were terrific; the ensemble of acting had some real gems -- I particularly loved Tim Roth and Steve Buscemi (Harvey Keitel was good for the job, but didn't really impress me). Roth is a young Pacino in some flawless ways. All in all, this is simply a great film. I prefer it to Basterds and Django. It's less catchy, less stylistic, but more substantial.

Take This Waltz (Sarah Polley)

I started Take This Waltz again tonight. I watched it a few years ago-- a powerfully painful experience, and also a superbly engaging one. Tonight I started it again, and this is simply my record of the experience.

Things were going like they did last time, so long ago. Interestingly, my subjective sense of purity is as dominating as it was all those lifetimes and religious involvements ago. Similar is the resemblance between my desperate romantic possessivenesses then and now. Take This Waltz would, again, be an absorbing and painful experience.

I may have loved the movie the first time. This time, somehow, I experienced it almost exactly the same. It's humble and naturalistic, focuses on subtler beauties, lesser-known parts of human nature...
I wouldn't love it this time. I no longer respect this film personality, which is no longer very original. This is a good film, I can be fairly certain of. Its style absorbs me, but also definitely repels me. I would get sucked in and would be hurt by this film. So here ends my experience with it, 17 minutes total.

There are two ways of assessing the quality of a film: one is subtractive and the other is additive.

The first assesses how many errors have been eliminated.

The second assesses how much the film really does, i.e. how much vision it loads onto the experience or the artistic statement.

While trying to call Boogie Nights a better film than Inherent Vice I realized that it is sort of an apples-and-oranges comparison, from my point-of-view. Boogie Nights forcefully imprints tons and tons of experience on the viewer. It has massive ambition and imagination. Inherent Vice is the product of a more refined director -- a cleaner-cut vision, restricted but skillfully focused. Boogie Nights inherits a whole world of ideas and perhaps flails a bit on the outer edges but ends up giving an explosive experience and a terrific reward.

Inherent Vice eliminates error on a narrow vision; Boogie Nights strives for everything. The former one could call an undeniably good film, in principle. The latter is a more subjective assessment.

Inherent Vice (Paul Thomas Anderson)

I cannot believe I'm only one hour into Inherent Vice. One hour has felt like two-and-a-half of this wordy low-rider. However valuable it may be for me to finish my favorite filmmaker's newest work I do not think I can bear it. It's a noir, and I suppose I didn't fully know what that meant until now. There's almost nothing but lingual play happening here. The aesthetic is cool, but it's drowsy when paired with the low-action quality of the film. Everything is informational. The acting is superb, some of the character-shaping is good. I'm sure Paul Thomas Anderson knows exactly what he's doing in his new genre, and I'm sure fans of the genre are ecstatic about the prodigy's visionary take on it. I'd say it's not for me. He's a genius in the film world, he's a technical and conceptual mastermind, but his skills are applied here to a genre that doesn't keep me engaged.

Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson)

I would just like to proclaim that the first hour of Boogie Nights is fucking fantastic. The thrill, the dance, the sounds, the lights; the idea behind the whole thing, the tracking shots, how Anderson dances us in with the swooping camerawork set to a disco soundtrack, how Anderson playfully juggles absurdity and poignancy, humanity and humor; the energetic brilliance of a young and fresh Mark Wahlberg; gorgeous character-performances by Don Cheadle, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, William H. Macy......    Technique, concept, vision, energy and spirit all fuse together in Anderson's ingenious 60 minutes of first-class filmmaking.


This hour is one of the most extraordinary I have ever seen in contemporary film. It's not perfect, but that doesn't matter, because it's something else: it's fucking fantastic.

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (Ana Lily Amirpour)

12/20/15

This seemed like a good film. A super-clean aesthetic, mixes of modern and classic, some fear and some beauty. In some ways it and Under the Skin make a sweet pair.

However I didn't pull very much away from this experience, nor this film. I had a few moments of tenseness at the horror aspect and a few moments of marvel at the girl's impeccable face and at some of the pristine shots. The imagery in this film was superb. The lead girl was beautiful. Some of it was frightening.

I don't think that the film dealt with anything, nor did I feel any emotional impact that could make it more rewarding. This is a movie, and I can learn from it about movies. Style, technique, narrative...

I may compare it to Only God Forgives, with a little more class.

I'm not sure how much I like the modern-world component of the modern/old-school/transcendental fusion. This same mixture appeared in Under the Skin, and there too I wanted to deny the implants of pop society. Here there was a sort of post-punk side to everything that was happening that repelled me. Where else have I seen this? Am I really thinking of Electrick Children? I may be....

She was like a Mélanie Laurent. I liked her a lot.

The film was attractive in many ways. Ultimately, it didn't suck me in to a point at which I wanted to exist in it. But it was an attractive picture, and one sharply alluring.



Assume this is more valuable than anything in the main stream of cinema. It is evaluated with respect to a higher plane of movies.

Moonrise Kingdom (Wes Anderson)

12/17/15

I consider this a strong film-- valuable to our world, valuable to the art form. I can't see it being as good as Fantastic Mr. Fox, but by its end it had an element that the other film didn't have. It gained some power.

The good majority of the film was underwhelming for me. I've essentially only ever seen one Wes Anderson movie, and I've been wanting to visit this one for years, and I always knew I would like it, but somehow the Anderson originality is already very dry to me. I appreciate the act of looking for the signature aesthetic, but this film didn't have the amazing humor that the other had.

Yet I liked it, and do call it valuable. The young male lead is fantastic in numerous ways; I love the Bruce Willis component; Ed Norton gives probably exactly what he should give-- I'm not sure just how valuable this is to me, but after Birdman I feel I could watch him anywhere-- I liked it. I feel once again that Bill Murray is a tragedy of disappointment, misunderstood to be a real actor.... and it is baffling to me. I have not been impressed in the slightest with the movies for which he is acclaimed as an actor-- Lost in Translation, Moonrise Kingdom, perhaps Groundhog Day or Razor's Edge....    Frances McDormand was irrelevant.

It's valuable because it is the real, the full Wes Anderson. Fox was a playful and probably ingenious experiment; Budapest is probably merely a project, a career-builder. Moonrise Kingdom is full and fleshed. And it is a good movie.

Andrei Rublev

I have a terrific affection for this expansive, subtle, slow, meditative, cerebral, painstaking, gorgeous, emotional historical spiritual philosophical film. It has everything in it..... everything except an attractive premise or setting, or set of characters, or anything that makes movies attractive. This movie is everything except attractive. Nevertheless, multiple choppy critical viewings have developed in me a strong love for Andrei Rublev, probably the ugliest film of Tarkovsky's. It's definitely not something I could naturally connect with, but that was sort of the case with the now-easy and amazing Solaris and Stalker. Tarkovsky has become enjoyable.... but two viewings is absolutely necessary, and maybe months in between.

Rublev is one of my favorite movies. I love the signature shots; the painfully distant dialogue and characters; every baffling decision made by the menacingly-theoretical Tarkovsky.

(I need a verb that captures the winding motion, a constant speed, but not too great a speed, a verb that conveys almost being pulled through Tokyo, like a marble rolling down a twisting track, not pulled by a tensile thing but still guided along, inertial, a verb not too weak but not too strong, a constant soft pull, no yank no whip no rush of air, but no pace; I'd like a verb that conveys a small track in a thicket of towers, like tiny eddies in a field of mud, a minuscule course through a monstrous scape; I'd like the perspective to show, the driver's windshield, intimate and twisting, a panning field of vision..)

I Believe in Unicorns

11/06/15

3/4

This movie was extremely beautiful in some respects. It was very short (1:18), and my experience had big cuts in it, so I almost feel like this didn't even happen. What I can recall is a strong sense of beauty along with a strong distaste for the adolescent relationship. The lead girl was very beautiful (I feel comfortable saying this because I see her as a child) and was acted extraordinarily. The male was also well-acted, but was an intensely repellant character for me. This dichotomy created a lot of tension inside of me as I watched, and so at times this viewing was difficult.

Quickly after it started and we began to see the relationship I debated stopping, because I saw that this relationship was extremely unattractive to me. But then I wondered if, since they are young and new, the filmmakers intended for this unattractiveness, and the characters will grow into something more valuable. So I continued. In some ways this did happen, although the characters I wanted to connect with so badly mostly remained in a distant place of youth. Youth is a place I cannot possibly connect with anymore. So I was very emotionally disconnected, and at times upset by this.

It is worth analyzing why I discounted this film so quickly for showing a relationship I didn't like. I assumed that the filmmakers were portraying something they thought was beautiful, and thus it was a flaw of the movie that it wasn't beautiful. 1: beauty is subjective, 2: they don't have to portray an attractive relationship to make a good movie. They could be saying something else.

11/13/15

I Believe in Unicorns was a decent movie, but the primary aspect of my experience was inescapably personal, and thus a full review is insensible. However, my opinion is that this is a decent movie, and there's really nothing else to say about it. It doesn't try to do anything, other than depict a relationship that a given viewer may like or dislike. There's no more to it. An intense aesthetic that a given fewer may like or dislike.... There is no "good movie / bad movie". It's just a film, to be experienced personally. To empassion. It empassioned me. It empassioned me....

Sunday in the Park with George

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

I had strong personal ties to this piece, which I have just extracted from the abstract in a private document-- they gave the piece significant emotional weight for me, at times.

Objectively-speaking, I think this is a good play. Good music, good dialogue, a very and beautifully immersive setting, and thematics to ponder abounding. Honestly, in addition to the pure pleasure in viewing that this piece evokes, by its humor and music and setting and poignant truth, there are significant ideas to be extracted, pertaining mostly to art and relationships, but relating also to all of humanity and society. Maybe I've just been in an enhanced state of sucking enlightenment out of my world lately, but I nevertheless saw loads of insight in this play available for the taking. While I certainly have been getting more out of art and entertainment lately than I have in a long time, due to recent life events, and as evidenced by my recent film experiences (I Believe in Unicorns, Lost in Translation, Jane Eyre...), I consider my assessment of Sunday in the Park with George as a good and insightful and pleasurable and meaningful play fairly objective.

Also, I love it. I do.

James Bond

As I reflect more on Spectre, I realize that we really have lost James Bond in the recent progression of the Bond franchise. What makes Spectre a Bond movie?-- what does it have in common with its predecessors that it doesn't have in common with other action films? Is it any more than just a good lone-standing action film?
What defines the franchise is nothing but the character of James Bond. The action, intelligence, terrorism, sex, cars..... These things occur in other franchises, from Mission Impossible to Fast & Furious. The Bond series should not be defined by simply making a decent line of action films-- a film in the series should be created around the center of the franchise's individuality, which is only the titular character. The reason the series caught fire upon conception is because the lead character was cool and charismatic in addition to his unparalleled skill. He has cool cars, he gets women, he has suave little quirks like the martini preference. He is classy, yet can manhandle a fight. These are the entire identity of the James Bond franchise. Without these, or even with a different focus, a film doesn't deserve the co-title 007. Hopefully it is apparent to the reader by now that Spectre fails to uphold what defines its franchise. Surely it has some of the characteristics, but did anyone feel that the throwback epilogue felt surprising? Not necessarily unexpected, but somehow a big leap in tone from what had happened before? Indeed, the James Bond movies are shifting their focus away from their important nature, and becoming not much more than good action films. I'm not saying that with the right focus they would instantly be great action films, but I'm saying that of all the things that Skyfall and Spectre are, the primary one is "good action film", as opposed to "Bond film".
This is a problem because I am not very interested in action films in general. I want James Bond. If I wanted nothing but a good action film, I would watch the last three Mission Impossible's in a row. Those are not really a franchise. I want James Bond, I want to feel Casino Royale in the blood of the film, I want the blood of Spectre to be saturated with everything classic we got from that earlier film. Unfortunately this is not the case, so Spectre is a good action film and somewhat Bond-y, but not more.

So what I said is that I want the focus to be on the character of James Bond. My argument is that the focus in Spectre is on what differentiates this film from earlier Bond films, namely the villainy and, to a lesser extent, the girl. They attempted to make the most epic villain ever, and not only did they fall short, they also lost sight of the franchise, to a degree, in the process. Certainly each Bond film must be different, but the differences should all be orbiting the lead character, who is a beautiful piece of work. A new, intriguing Bond girl and new, intriguing Bond villain should at most hit the same level of priority as James himself. They cannot go above. I feel that, in Spectre, the villain and the plot took center stage, with the writers trying to make everything more epic than ever. James was merely our vessel to this convoluted plot-logic, a first-person to take us to what was trying to be the greatest action film ever, whereas James should have been the entire heart and soul of the film, with the other stuff as just intrigue.

James Bond: Spectre (Sam Mendes)

11/07/15

3/4

The newest film of the franchise was an action thriller of the highest quality... or at least the highest quality we see in mainstream cinema. I can imagine a James Bond film that's much better, but my fantasies can't take away from my experience: I completely enjoyed each of the 148 minutes, felt a very strong emotional gravity at times, got invested in ways I didn't think possible for me anymore. Spectre defies with a strong hand the notion that I can't experience full immersion into things anymore due to my consuming introversion. I sat vulnerable and desperate in my chair like an adolescent boy would. I loved entirely my experience of this film.

I think that this film could be better. For me it spits out more quality and content than most modern films in its vein, including its predecessor, but yet it stays relatively within the confines of this trajectory of contemporary franchise action cinema. The best way I can put it is this: the movement from Casino Royale and Batman Begins to Skyfall and The Dark Knight Rises demonstrates what is happening in the best action film franchises (if there are any others); things are becoming a bit scattered, more epic, more complex in plot but more poorly-controlled, powerful but proud, sharp and witty at the cost of human relatability.... Do you remember how humble and brutal in its humility Casino Royale was? Beautiful in its humility. Spectre shows many signs of this devolution, but it has a classic quality that hasn't yet been tainted. It has a power I truly don't remember feeling in Skyfall. It goes without saying that for whatever reason Casino Royale is irreplicable, but if we side that comparison Spectre provides us with a lot of great stuff to feast on.

I have a hundred more opinions I could write down, but I'd rather leave it at this: I loved Spectre, and find it a scattered but spectacular item of experience.

Lost in Translation

10/29/15


I don’t feel I can give a very stable assessment of Lost in Translation, at least not until I think about it more tomorrow. Maybe at that time I’ll submit an appendage to this post.

But I’d like to document my experience anyways. It was significant, as far as movie experiences go in my life. I became very immersed in the film, for better or for worse. I began in a brilliant mind, soaking in all of the film’s nuances, connecting them to my own life, pondering a bunch of different topics, analyzing the film very well and connecting all pieces wonderfully. I at that point found this film to be good, and meaningful, although not ‘great’. It had flaws, had cliches…..

But as the film progressed, I grew more tired and more attached on a purely subjective, emotional level. My critical mind quietly shut off and I was existing in a state of pure emotional immersion. It was tough. I became depressed, feeling like I was existing outside myself, in characters that I didn’t want to be. I don’t like what happened with this viewing. It is interesting, though. I imagine most people regularly experience this loss of self, during movies and otherwise, and don't notice. It makes me feel very lost, and I don’t like it.

That's when I decided I needed to go to sleep.


11/01/15

I consider Lost in Translation a very good film and an important one. It has flaws that I can't get past (which I will articulate soon), but my focus on the flaws is probably a reaction to the tidal-wave-praise the film received. Were I unaware of critical and public response, perhaps I would be overwhelmed by positivity now. In that vein it is worth mentioning that I have seen the film before, and have since developed a more critical eye. Things stack up that direct my thoughts toward criticism rather than praise of this film. However, I am far from lacking completely an appreciation of the film. In fact, my recent viewing (timely as it was) was extraordinarily insightful. I took Sofia Coppola's quiet meditation on human relationships and enhanced my understanding of the world and of my life in powerful ways. A strong reason for my calling this film great is its unique setup, whose unconventionality allows for profound insight to seep through. We see three relationships and feel strong emotional tugs one way or another. Thus with the contemplative pace of the film, the reflective viewer is left pondering why he or she feels the way he or she does regarding what's happening onscreen. Such is my case. I found the central relationship attractive in many ways, and unattractive in others. Surprisingly, I was sympathetic to the two relationships that it seemed the director was trying to label impure. By merging all of these things I was able to see the ideal of human relationships in my life.

My assessment of the film leads me every time to Sofia Coppola, whether that's righteous or unjust. My evaluation of her product (which seems so personal) tells me that she is a talented young director, young and female in an industry of otherwise, who has a keen eye for aesthetics (from visual to emotional) and a human insight beyond her years but who is not fully matured. The loud and flailing example of immaturity comes when we hear that the character of Charlotte was crafted as a philosophy major, Yale grad. I don't feel like it would be good for me to detail my response to that here. All I will say is that I find that aspect of the script incredibly juvenile, almost offensive. Other script problems include Bill Murray only periodically doing Bill Murray, unintentional attempts at mainstream humor and style being attached to the general indie quality of the film at rough seams....  Surely I have problems with this movie. But as I said, the idea of it all along with those moments of superb poignancy make up for the (relatively) poorly-controlled script. Indeed, "poignant" is a word better-attached to this film than to most others. It defines the mood.

I wish I liked these characters more, as in such a case this film would become something enormous to me. However, it is a little dated, and I find the characters as ending up somewhat two-dimensional. But what I learned in this experience was important... I would watch Lost in Translation again to relive my reflections and learn even more about the essence of inter-human connection. I like the movie a lot. I really do. And it means something to me.

Frances Ha (Noah Baumbach)

20 minutes of Frances Ha was very, very average. The whimsy was much too much for me, not humorous... The early-20s-city-friendship-bluntness did nothing for me. This felt just like the first few episodes of Girls, I think with even the same male actor playing exactly the same quirky-bluntness role. What horrible descriptors I am using, but it is difficult to track down exactly what this tone is that I find so cliche. I liked Greta Gerwig... the humility, the earnestness, the warmth. But this isn't for me.

Jane Eyre

4/4

My second viewing of Jane Eyre elevates it into one of my undeniable classics. It is unlike anything else I have ever seen; I am deeply in love with the characters, the story, the acting. Wasikowska and Fassbender construct a pair of characters and performances that is in my eyes comparable in strength only to the pair of Blue is the Warmest Colour.

I am thankful that Jane Eyre is so unique, at least in my history, because in such a case it is easy to call it a favorite movie of mine. I am sure that with exposure to other films of this genre I would be underimpressed by the Fukunaga take on Bronte. Yet I am overly happy that I get to call this simple and powerful piece a part of me. It is my first of the genre, so it will always hold a certain place. I think that the direction and adaptation are good, and no more; however, the performances will stand forever in me, and what Charlotte Bronte put into her masterpiece can scarcely be topped in all of cinema. Mia Wasikowska is so graceful and strong with every subtlety, is flawless and is built for the part. Michael Fassbender puts everything into the face of Fairfax Rochester-- every conflict is clear in this actor's eyes. The two together, with the assistance of an, in my opinion, unbelievable Charlotte Bronte dialogue, create a presence of immense power. I care so much for these characters that even referring to the actors is a little painful.

Jane Eyre is simple and small. It is a period piece. Maybe it has low potential to make a statement or make a difference. But it shook me.

Two experiences in contemporary theater

Two experiences in contemporary theater and I am in love.    I find some human truth that I don't find in movies. Maybe I'm just naive. Maybe it's just realer. Maybe it's just two performances...

Metamorphoses and Love and Information have been definitively two of my best experiences of the last year. Thick reward. Rich contact. Immersion, flow...

I read four lines of poetry today on a thin piece of paper pasted to an office door and I saw a choppy 60-minute peer-production of a theater piece --- and I feel more intellectually invigorated than I have in months.

I need art


None of these movies is art, none of this music is art, none of this thinking is art..

I read the last twenty pages of Jane Eyre today while waiting for a meeting. I felt like crying

9/4/15


What is this pattern of Ishmaels and Ahabs, Nicks and Gatsbys? The quiet, removed, strong and steady character and then the fascinating, extravagant, volatile character?



Would you rather be an Ishmael or an Ahab? A Nick Carraway or a Gatsby? Are you a character of passive observance but steady mental strength, or a loud, extravagant, volatile character, falling rapidly in a blaze of glory?

7/24/15

I have been perturbed lately by advancements of plot in films. Under the Skin, The 400 Blows, Hiroshima mon amour..... What happens is the film establishes a basis structure and tone for a while, and then the plot kicks in and what happened before is lost, and I am unable to connect the two disparate parts. Maybe it is well-known that if one takes too long to begin a progression of events, the viewer will lose interest. But I'll say that the bases for these films are my favorite parts, and I could endure entire films of just those. It is, in any case, so unfortunate to lose a grasp on the characters when the setting and tone completely shift, and I lament that it truly impedes on my appreciation of these films.

good kid, m.A.A.d city: 4/4
To Pimp a Butterfly: 4/4

Extremely diverse, skillful and technical in every way, creative torrents, wide-minded, infinitesimally centered, dark intimacy, God-like reach and touch, boundless, sweeping, easy play between themes, pure aesthetic, divine flow, depth, death, pain, horror, beauty, love, a summation of all things musical and human for this generation, an album for the ages, powerful, painful, shocking, shocking in pain, shocking in love...... All of these words describe a work 'lesser' than Kendrick Lamar's two major-label albums. Exponentiate all of these terms to n and you will find his devastating duet, which exists in a spectacular and simple 'more'.

The Departed

This is a tough rating, and it is a bold move on my part to talk about this movie on this site. Yet I have just come to believe that the essence of this blog lies not in the essence of the movies to which it applies itself, but rather in the essence of the experience of the movies (my essence during the viewing and reflection). Hence, Man of Steel could show up on this blog someday, despite being a film I would have previously thought of as built for Blog 1. It's all about what I make of the movie...

Having now justified the very existence of this post for myself, I make the claim that The Departed is a great film. In my opinion, it is almost flawlessly-acted (I would only call it "spectacular" or something with respect to its genre confines--- it is flawless, or very nearly), brilliantly-written (genre-independent), directed with master-prowess, etc etc. Every time I see this movie I find new things in the viney plot and am blown away by the creativity of the premise, and its equally creative consequences, not to mention the micro-script at almost every moment, which I love deeply in the scope of the film world. Phenomenal dialogue, premise, acting and direction drive this wild beast of a film. It is one of my favorites.

I understand that The Departed has low ambition with respect to the transcendentalism of most of the films I'm into nowadays, and that the fact that 90% of my Departed viewings (there have been many) have been in Eau Claire is meaningful to consider in terms of bias-evaluation. This is why I have not given it a rating on this site-- it doesn't stand next to the other films here. However, my subjectivity is extremely pleased with this film, for whatever reason. Again, I am willing to call it one of my favorites.

I want to note that I called the acting "almost flawless" because I intensely respect the performances of Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Alec Baldwin, even Martin Sheen to a degree, but I don't like Vera Farmiga's performance very well. There is both acting-ingenuinity and accent inconsistency, which is disappointing given that this is a Scorsese movie, and an excellent one. Nevertheless, I am extremely impressed by the performances of all the males.

More impressive is the writing by William Monahan, who I don't think has ever done anything else noteworthy. This is beyond belief for me, as the screenplay for this film is sensational in my eyes-- honestly, one of the best I have ever seen.

Anyways, good film.

An approach to film..

There's this concept in the art of movie-watching I think of as "putting yourself in the shoes". If you're watching Psycho and you put yourself in the shoes of the 1950's moviegoer, or the Hitchcock shoes, or the shoes of any character, you have the capacity to be scared. If you're watching Pacific Rim and you put yourself in the shoes of a consciousless being sitting before a screen with a vat of chemicals for a brain, you have the capacity to be entertained, and more meaningfully, fulfilled. Mad Max is a better example, or I like Man of Steel here. By putting yourself in the shoes, you virtually grow in your capacity to be fulfilled and to experience. I consider this a noble endeavor.

Coming to understand this concept was essential to my recent dive into Bergman-- had I not been able to inhabit the personhood or subjectivity of a 1960's intellectual, or one of the characters, or Bergman himself, I would not have been able to appreciate Bergman for what he is. And again, I am calling this a meaningful and respectable pursuit, rather than a critical "stepping down". To be able to put oneself in the shoes to appreciate a foreign art is a valuable capability, and does not involve sacrificing one's critical eye. It is not blissful ignorance, even. My experience of Man of Steel was not blissful ignorance, I firmly disbelieve, because I came out of that movie fulfilled, and I am extremely in-touch with the fact that ignorance tears my soul apart, every time. Thus it was not ignorance, and was rather a new approach to entertainment that allowed my soul to wholesomely accept a new kind of art.

Man of Steel fulfilled me, Pacific Rim fulfilled me, I know Mad Max would fulfill me, all of Bergman fulfilled me, all three-and-a-half hours of Seven Samurai fulfilled me..... this is a unique and valuable skill I have developed, and I am grateful for it.

Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky)

9/18/15

4/4

Solaris is one of those films that I struggled through the first time, but for which reflection soon thereafter totally reinvigorated my interest and appreciation. After watching I immediately knew that Solaris was enjoyable. In its essence was an awesome experience, I just had to get there. So after a couple of months I revisited, which was a few nights ago, and I completely loved it. Everything had intense power and affective strength; the image of the reeds, the dialogue in the study, the low-lying tone of mystery and fear-- and, more than anything else, the insanely provocative character of Hari. That supernatural character makes the whole film for me, sets it above all the other sci-fi/horror material.

I really love this movie, for a variety of reasons. Ultimately, it is Tarkovsky's immense directorial power and vision that give the film what it has.

In order to obtain a decent analysis, however, I still must see it again, earlier in the day....

I CAN SPEAK!™ [from In Persuasion Nation] (George Saunders)

9/3/15

This dark and shockingly comic story from George Saunders displays modern society's virtue of progress, but reveals it as progress driven by horrifying values and ideals. I laughed out loud on numerous occasions during these seven pages, but ultimately set the book down feeling the weight of what lies beneath Saunders' vision [usually I don't operate in romantic cliches like this, but here I'm being honest]. As with "Adams", the comedy or frankness is not the intention of the story, and it is not there to suppress the horror-- it is actually meant to enhance the horror. And for me, this time, it did; what was comically excessive in this story was also disturbing.

It was highly enjoyable, and skillfully-done. And I'm truly amazed by how funny it was.

Adams [from In Persuasion Nation] (George Saunders)

9/2/15

What I got out of Saunders' sparse, somewhat easy little vignette of a narrative was an animalistic/evolutionary portrayal of human beings, plus a distinct style reminiscent of Holden Caulfield. To the latter point, have I just not read enough contemporary fiction? I saw quite an obvious relationship between the blunt language and small, left-field vocabulary of Caulfield and Saunders' similar S-O-C writing of his narrator; perhaps this is a style widely-used. One thing I appreciated was the suppression of horror through simple language. Back to the first point, I think that human beings in this short portrait are closely-tied to their animal nature and ancestry. It is animal instinct that drives the narrator to commit most of his actions, including the decisive final one. His primary motive is the protection of self, and looser versions of self, namely families. This is a distinctly evolutionary drive, and beyond this, Saunders writes these situations as if he is a nature-documentary narrator, describing the interactions of two rival groups of orangutans. Violence is inflicted quickly and machine-like. "I am what I am" and "Because that's the kind of guy he is" imply genetic dominance over the self.

I really enjoyed the writing, which was blunt and sometimes comically over-the-top. I had to stretch a bit for themes, but it was a great exercise. I could read another.

Hiroshima mon amour (Alain Resnais)

7/24/15

3.5/4

Hiroshima was magnificent: impressionistic, minimalistic, with the grace and poignancy of modern film. It was a blissful and heartbreaking portrait of love, told by the poetic Resnais with a sublime artistic touch and an aching humanity. I'll have to watch this film again, to fully soak in all of its broad strokes, but I feel that I could watch it many more times, it is so enthralling in its intimacy. Hiroshima mon amour towers above The 400 Blows, which was so much less meaningful and had so much less aesthetic quality. I may never see 400 again, but I am already anxious to immerse again in Resnais' delicate bath of human emotion and connection.

Perhaps my expectations are low for Hiroshima mon amour. But comparing my experience of it to mine of other films for which I have the same expectations, I loved this film, and I have the feeling that this love is legitimate and will endure, independent of expectations. Here is one of my very best experiences of classic world cinema so far.

The 400 Blows (Francois Truffaut)

7/23/15

3/4

The 400 Blows was alright. At least it was valuable, as it usually is, seeing the world from a child's perspective, and the French setting also helped in making this a decent experience. I'm not sure what the aim of this film was, or whether it's just a chronicle. To me, the only thing to pull from it besides a simple enjoyment of immersion in French culture is a valuation of the juvenile state of mind. Where on the spectrum between Antoine and his parents is it most human to lie? The chances indicate that it's most true to our nature and generous to ourselves to be more on the side of Antoine's mindset, who values pure adventure and moment-by-moment endorphin-induction. But, as Truffaut seems to indicate, with such amorality is an inappropriate way to live. It's not a matter of "responsibility", as that term is only a product of modern society; rather, it is an essential question whether one cares truly about anything. It is possible that Antoine did not, and he was punished for his lack of conviction to anything by having his life partially taken from him.

However, it seems clear to me that the degree to which adults abandon childhood is vastly detrimental to their essential being. Without question I'd rather be Antoine than his parents or teachers, because the living situation hardly matters when one has a certain mindset. Antoine in a juvenile military camp is more free than the capitalistic adults in his life. I suppose capitalism itself is enslaving, not to mention the pressures of its implications around society.

The 400 Blows didn't cross me as a great film. It was a fine tale of adolescence, the kind of which nobody in today's society is deprived. I liked the child-first-person and the French language and setting. Most important is this film's role in my life as an entrance into a new genre. I like the idea of the New Wave... while this particular film underwhelmed, I can see a nice potential. 90 minute French films.... not a bad basis.

Dancer in the Dark (Lars von Trier)

7/22/15

4/4

This film is absolutely explosive. Lars von Trier is an inhuman genius, creating a picture of unfathomable proportions. Bjork is colossal. Here is one of my favorite performances of all time. The direction is amazing, the script and story enormously and brilliantly innovative, the lead character above almost any in cinema, in my opinion. As I have portrayed, the scale and power of this film are enough to obliterate expectations for what cinema can reach.

Dancer in the Dark blew me away.

1/2) Persona and The Seventh Seal

3) Shame

4) Cries and Whispers

5) Wild Strawberries

All were highly valuable cinematic experiences, most were profound cinematic experiences. None do I regret. Time has made Shame increasingly attractive, while Persona and The Seventh Seal are incidentally the two that I have seen twice (in some weak sense). Cries and Whispers was an immersive nighttime viewing, while Wild Strawberries was a tired nighttime viewing. All but Persona and Cries and Whispers have Max von Sydow, an actor I now love; all but The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries have Liv Ullman, an actress I now love; all but Shame and Cries and Whispers have Bibi Andersson, another actress I esteem highly. Bergman is now one of my favorite directors: although he hasn't connected with my humanity, as Cianfrance, Inarritu and others so easily do, he has consistently excited my mind and provided an atmosphere of supreme interest. I will surely revisit him, and in some time explore him even further. He is more reliable than Tarkovsky, it seems, at least with these films. They all hold a very unique and significant place in my catalogue.

My growing comfort with Bergman tells me that it's time to move on, as the most valuable experiences are those that put my mind where it does not belong. However, I am not saying that Bergman is easy for me, nor that I fully appreciate him. I have miles to move, especially with respect to quality thematic analysis. But I am comfortable with my enjoyment of these films, and since coherency is unnecessary to a degree, that comfort is big enough to merit my shift of focus, especially given how profoundly uncomfortable some other directors are. It's all about priorities: if I had no other movies to watch than Bergman, I would rewatch all of these films in an instant and in doing so waste no time and have a plethora of things to gain.

The Seventh Seal (Ingmar Bergman)

7/20/15

3.5/4

With the glorious Seventh Seal, I conclude my Bergman quintuplet and shall now focus more on other areas of cinema.

For me, The Seventh Seal is on par with Persona. It provided the experience original enough and affecting enough to negate its age and make its ideological feast worth going through.

I loved the chess sequences, the Death dialogue, the pitch-black humor, the haunting religious symbolism, each of the characters and performances..... This was my first Bergman film of the last four years or so, so as I return to it after seeing four others, I realize that it doesn't exactly fit into the Bergman atmospheric mold. The content is similar, but is somehow less idiosyncratic: it is one of his first films after all.

I'm not sure what I could say about this film, especially in regards to its philosophical landscape. I had a great experience with it, totally engaging, and I harbored a fairly strong appreciation for it-- something that was missing just a few months ago. I can't tell which of the two is my favorite Bergman film: both are incredibly enjoyable.

Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky)

7/15/15

3/4

Solaris was tough. It shared much of Stalker's visual ambiguity, but had a more difficult premise and inner content. In most ways, it was a lot like that later Tarkovsky film. Style-wise and plot-wise, Stalker and Solaris are very close sister-films. Solaris also mirrored 2001 in some ways, of course.

But taken on its own, the film exhibited the strong theoretically-driven style of Tarkovsky, who takes an esoteric but moderate story and abstracts it to otherworldly levels. If these two films can represent the rest, he has a distinct style-- as singular as Bergman. Solaris could not have been made by anyone else into the film that it is, and while I don't understand it, I do believe in its greatness.

As for my experience, I will say that my subjectivity cannot yet cope with Tarkovsky. While it is not altogether unenjoyable (and in fact, Stalker passed me nicely), it is definitely inaccessible. However, I am intrigued by the compelling imagery, which is the essence of Tarkovsky's artistry. These bold strokes make me much more likely to hang on to these films, revisit them, and ultimately save a spot for them in my catalogue. I do believe that eventually I will really like these films-- probably Stalker over Solaris, due to its relative atmosphere and characters, but both are highly-valuable cinematic experiences because of their intense originality and definitive artistic greatness.

Wild Strawberries (Ingmar Bergman)

7/14/15

3/4

I didn't quite give Wild Strawberries its deserved attention, but I am able to see that this is a different Bergman film, and one I can enjoy but probably could never love. The film is a conglomeration of tones, ideas and techniques. It is one of his earliest acclaimed pieces, so it would seem that he's a young artist in total creative exploration, like Woody Allen in Annie Hall, were it not for The Seventh Seal, with which it shares 1957. Indeed, I felt a strong Annie Hall rhythm coming off of this scattered, motion-oriented picture. Odd characters and situations flew by without having the weight that they have in real life; dark philosophies were interrupted by nonsensical whimsy, giving the film the light tone that Annie Hall had despite both films' absurdist, isolated, nihilistic convictions. This wasn't as funny as Annie Hall, but seeing any humor in a Bergman film would be a surprise.

While I don't trust that I grasped the overall objective of the film well, I did enjoy the non-stop flurry of ideas from Bergman, and appreciated the atmosphere for what it was. I suppose it's closer to Crimes and Misdemeanors, with its aging lead character and scenes of darkness. There were some good-quality unsettling moments; specifically, the dream early in the film blew me away. It showcased Bergman's psychological skill, with how well he created an atmosphere despite his era's primitivity.

This is a strange movie, one that is hard to fully "get" -- and there is no better word -- due to its choppy pacing and collection of ideas. However, the ideas were there, and there was significant skill exhibited by the auter; the reason I could probably never love this is because of its lack of great characters, but the movie was of solid enjoyability and reward.

The Tree of Life (Terrence Malick)

7/11/15

4/4

With a second viewing, The Tree of Life moves into my definitive handful of films, representing that side of my cinema which comes closest to pure art and divine beauty. Again, I appreciated the first movement far more than the second. That first section is, conceptually and aesthetically, pure insanity; the highest art I have ever come across in film. As I explained in my last review, it is true poetry.

This film is untouchably beautiful, so far ahead of the rest of the world. It will live on for me as a sublimely minimalistic and meditative monument to humanity and its endeavors.

Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa)

7/11/15

3/4

Akira Kurosawa must have defined, and essentially created, Japanese cinema. That's my explanation for the legacy of these films of his, three of which I've seen: Ikiru, Rashomon, and now Seven Samurai. Seven Samurai felt like classic Hollywood; something like a Japanese Gone with the Wind or Titanic. It was the monumental, culture-constructing epic that defined its national film industry for years to come. At least that's my guess. It thus wasn't as I expected: it wasn't very intellectual, didn't feel like "high art". It did feel like a great movie, a spectacular one in fact, and so I still have high regard for Kurosawa, but he hasn't shown up as the genius intellectual that I expected given his reputation.

Nevertheless, my lasting impression given by his Seven Samurai, named by Empire as the greatest film of world cinema, is this: here is a truly enjoyable and accessibly great Japanese film! I was surprised to find characters I could empathize with, some appealing humor, and some actors who wouldn't be totally lost in modern-day realism! The much-disdained Rashomon-style acting is certainly present, but my realization was that that's only slightly the underlying culture for 1950's Japanese acting: the characters in which it's extremely present are I think intentional overactors. Rashomon's "bandit", I think, pops up here and has exactly the same mannerisms, but it's mostly just him who behaves like that. Others have other charicatures, but then there are some actors, like the lead in Ikiru who ends up being the most prominent feature here, who are composed and relatable.

Therefore, I no longer find it appropriate to generalize that all of old Japanese film is depressingly overacted and inaccessible. Seven Samurai provided quality enjoyment for all of its 3 1/2 hours, ending with a decisively impeccable shot. Unfortunately, nothing in the film beforehand was so artistically sublime, but the film as a whole was easy to appreciate and experience. A great film.



Okay, this is much better than Titanic, and I'm sure it's much better than Gone with the Wind. Seven Samurai trumps Hollywood, by far, in my mind. The essence of my point was that this film doesn't bask in philosophy, nor transcendental experience, as Bergman does. Seven Samurai was a terrific film, as a film. Not as high art. Yet this doesn't demean it for me: it is a monster in my mind, both for its length and its impact. Hollywood has not produced anything that I respect this much.

Cries and Whispers (Ingmar Bergman)

7/3/15

3/4

I liked Cries and Whispers a lot. I loved Liv Ullman again, this time as a somewhat empty damsel. The aesthetic was tantalizing and somewhat terrifying. The plot was intriguing and shocking in some regards. I didn't recover very much philosophy from the film, other than the reliable Bergman bleakness, but there were moments shocking enough, visual or conceptual motifs engaging enough, and characters fascinating enough that this film struck me. [At the top of the list of things are the screaming from Agnes, the blood-red walls and scene transitions, the "whispers" shots with naked character faces, the Anna character, and the amazing scene near the end when Agnes calls again]. The four women give brutal and vulnerable performances in a film highly unsettling and made with a few strokes of brilliance.

Persona (Ingmar Bergman)

Persona was a montage of disturbia, a philosophical meditation on the horror of a lonely existence, an entrance into a warped mind that twitches and trembles. Persona displayed two women in raw, minimalist bare-soul form. There are no barriers here: no one can hide, not even the viewer. Persona is raw in every fashion. It is scathing. It is like sandpaper to the brain. Persona sounds like the scrape of a match which is then flicked into a hot flame; Persona feels to the brain like the scrape and the fire. Persona is like Pi. Persona fuses characters and souls and ideas under the heat of its own artistry. Persona crawls under the skin; it tastes bitter and is prickly to the touch. It is seductive, yet poisonous upon contact. It is intimately poetic and yet harshly abrasive. Indeed, Bergman has made a film of contrasts and contradictions. Two characters are one; shocking turns to smooth; abrasive to poetic; death becomes life; things run opposite; things double over. Things float. Bergman uses extensive imagery to convey the existential experiences of two women, or one woman. This film is a horror project and a work of beauty. I love Liv Ullman and I hate Bibi Andersson. Persona has the simplest premise. Two women are isolated together and they begin to fuse. There are no other characters, essentially one location. This is a minimalist film that is excessive and indulgent. I love its simplicity, and also its chaotic nature. I love that the philosophy comes through but may not be connected.

Perhaps Persona is more coherent than I have been conveying. I will experience it again, obviously. I am more attracted to the subtlety and sophistication of other similarly-acclaimed films than I am to the mad genius of Persona, but it is extremely attractive to me in other ways. The intimate camerawork is essential; it has a soft touch on the faces of the women. The chaotic philosophy; the intimacy of the performances at times; the isolation and simplicity of the setting; the sweeping aesthetics: all these make Persona a special movie for me.

Bergman's Persona is a work of genius creativity and fantastic execution.

Persona (Ingmar Bergman)

6/30/15

3.5/4

Persona is perhaps the most layered film I have ever seen. It's insanely ambitious with respect to its artistry and content; I read that it may be considered Bergman's masterpiece over any of his other movies, but I deny this notion, with what little understanding I have of him-- I think it's probably just his most overt film. Shame dealt with a lot, I feel, but it was probably more focused and more subtle. Persona bombards the viewer with idea after idea, grimace after grimace, a profound discomfort most of the way through. Bergman throws all of his genius together into a flurry of images and sounds: Persona is aesthetically, philosophically, conceptually rich.

I found Persona to be in some way more accessible to me than Shame or The Seventh Seal, despite its being impossible to deconstruct from one viewing. It was much easier to experience fully-- to engage with mind and body. Whereas other films lately have demanded me to put forth my self to be affected, with Persona I would need the effort to run away from it. It's enthralling, despite its what may be incoherency. It reminds me significantly of Mulholland Drive: the two female leads, the preppy blonde in descent and the darker, troubled brunette, the psychosexual intensity lying beneath the relationship, the shifting identities... the possibility of being senseless, chaotic, and having no other objective but to throw the viewer into the madness of a psychotically-existential cognitive experience.

Persona was beautifully artistic; I loved how Bergman directed with such boldness and such an emphasis on ideas. The performances were extraordinary-- I have a growing attachment to Liv Ullman, her bold, depressed features, and her acting as the existential woman.

I had a great experience with Persona, a film made with clear brilliance, though I may be more attracted to Bergman's more subtle, less hedonistic films.

Stalker (Andrei Tarkovsky)

6/27/15

3/4

Stalker is a human nature meditation in the form of an adventure film in the style of an art film. It is hard to generalize because it seems to show so many different colors. The structure is basic: a mysterious "Zone" appears, seemingly placed by extraterrestrial beings, and three men, the Scientist, the Artist, and the Man of Faith, journey to discover what lies at the heart of the mystery. It's like 2001. The larger part of the film is a pretty accessible adventure story through the Russian wilderness. But there are two catches. One: the three characters are very interesting, and have pretty difficult socio-cultural-philosophical conversations along the way. Two: the direction is completely inscrutable. Tarkovsky takes a decently-interesting script and story and bathes it in impossibly difficult imagery, some of which you cannot even visually decipher, let alone interpret. This is what blew me away about this film and what makes it worth watching again. Tarkovsky directs with huge ideas; he has a strong vision for what he wants.

The best part about this film though, besides the awesomely tough imagery, is its immersiveness. An atmosphere is created once the characters enter The Zone that is deeply engrossing. That's why I enjoyed this film more than Shame: I was enamored with the atmosphere the whole time, more than I am with that typical foreign-realism feel. It kept me interested. However, I will say that I very much wanted it to end differently. There were many points in the last section that I thought were perfect endings, yet the film continued and stopped at a baffling point, one that I was not able to relate to the rest of the film.

I'll watch Stalker again for sure and try to connect it all; the philosophical dialogue with the sci-fi premise, the thematic material with the must-be-symbolic images. The great thing about this conviction is that this is an advanced film that I truly liked. I'm so ready for Solaris, The Mirror, and maybe others.

Slaughterhouse-Five (Kurt Vonnegut)

6/26/15

I have now read 80 pages of the highly enjoyable Slaughterhouse-Five, and will probably stop here. As with my Akira film experience, I feel that I know the work enough that it will be of higher reward to move on to something more complicated. Slaughterhouse was terrific though, and that was 100% to the credit of Kurt Vonnegut's writing style. Something very interesting about reading this: I imagine that the writing would be meaningless to someone who's not an intellectual, yet to an intellectual it is extremely effortless and accessible. It's as if once you cross that threshold, this book was made for you; it will now be the easiest intellectual experience you will ever have, and a very enjoyable one. I say this because his writing is very creative, quippy, fascinating, wise, but not difficult. It flows, despite its literal jumping and cutting. He is funny and imaginative while maintaining profoundness and wisdom. The essence of this book is its extremely talented writer, so I do not regret abandoning the work as if it were a rounded and complete entity. I grasped the style, and am now ready to try something more difficult.

Akira (Katsuhiro Otomo)

6/25/15

I watched 20 minutes of Akira and felt like I understood what it was all about, including its relation to the world of film. It's an anime picture from the '80s, and what I'm guessing is that it made anime a serious art form, bringing it to the adult world and giving it artistic and thematic weight. Akira deals in politics, violence, counter-culture, adolescence, and it does it with blinding style and a high-energy punch. I have no trouble admitting that some of those first 20 minutes were awesome. It felt just like Tarantino: a nuclear bomb went off in a big city; the big red letters AKIRA filled the screen. Tarantino's movies have the same cultural roots as Japanese movies like this do, so the bloody violence and samurai-esque dialogue felt very familiar, though no less significant. Soon after the introduction, the film yanks us into a neon-lit motorbike chase through downtown Tokyo, with one juvenile street gang on the tail of another. The art here, including the atmospheric, skittish music, the fiery trails of light left by the futuristic motorcycles, and the monstrous urban backdrop, is thrillingly imaginative. This bike scene is completely enthralling. Next we see hints that all of society is being channeled through the writer, Otomo, who it is clear seeks to make a statement, not only artistic, but about the whole of the world in which he lives. It is easy for me to see that this could have been a revolution for Japanese film and animation in general. It is violent, stylish, culturally-intelligent and super entertaining.