Cinema is Cinema

Eleanor's Secret

2011-07-06T15:18:00.001-05:00

Eleanor's Secret (2009, Kérity, la maison des contes) is a rather charmingly-animated French film about books and the stories they contain.

Synopsis
The story begins with the young boy Natanaël (Nathaniel), his sister Angelica, and their parents driving to the town Kérity, where the home of their recently deceased grandmother, Éléonore (voiced by Jeanne Moreau), is located. As they approach the road sign for Kérity, Nat asks how much further, and Angélica mocks him that, if he could read, he would know that they're almost there.

At the house, Nat and Angélica's parents read them a letter from Éléonore in which she leaves Angelica a doll and Nat the key to her secret room. When Nat opens it, he is dismayed to find that it a simple study with a library attached containing all the books she used to read to him.

That night, a storm damages the roof of the home, and the family decides that, since they don't have the money to fix it, they'll have to sell. Feeling more attachment to the house than the library of books, Nat offers to let the family sell the books to a local pawn shop dealer so that they can raise the money for repairs. His father tells him to at least go and pick out one book to remember Éléonore by, and Nat again enters the library. This time, small people begin to peer out of the books from various books and fairytales like Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, and even Alice and the White Rabbit from Nat's favourite story, Through the Looking Glass. It is revealed that Nat is the new keeper of their stories, and must read a magic phrase in order to keep them alive for future generations. However, when it comes to light that Nat cannot read, the Wicked Fairy calls him an imposter and, using her magic, shrinks Nat down to their size.

The antiques dealer arrives and scams the family, claiming that the collection of first editions are "too old to be worth anything" but that he'll let them know if he manages to sell any of them. Nat is too small to stop it, and ends up riding with the other characters and their books to the dealer's shop. There, Nat decides that Éléonore must have entrusted the books to him for a reason, and sets out on a journey to return home and read the magic spell to save the day. He is joined by Alice, the White Rabbit, and the man-eating Ogre.

Animation and Characters
This film was directed by veteran Disney animator Dominique Monfery, and I'm not surprised. The animation is good, but nothing revolutionary. There is an interesting use of text to shows Nat's anxiety of not being able to read, but it was already done (and perhaps even more inventively) five years earlier in an episode of Paranoia Agent. So it you're really big on cutting edge animation, this isn't going to wow you, but everything is done skillfully and I applaud it for that.

Perhaps more interesting are the character designs, as they showcase an interesting illustration style. Perhaps the best character design is the weasel of an antiques dealer, whose moustache is wonderfully expressive. In some ways, the art style reminded me a little bit of The Secret of Kells, but both certainly have their own divergent feels.

Still, The Secret of Kells seems like an interesting film to pair with this one. Both are children's movies with strong literary references. However, I feel like Kells was a bit more subtle and nuanced, while Eleanor's Secret was a bit more heavy-handed in its pro-literacy message.

Could have gone deeper
All-in-all, I liked the film, but I felt like it stopped a little short and didn't fully take advantage of what it had going on plot-wise. In the beginning, Eleanor's Secret seemed to be exploring ideas of grief through the death of Éléonore and Nat's subsequent shame at still being unable to read. Some of those early, more interestingly animated scenes definitely captured the stress and emotional turmoil Nat was feeling by using his fear of his own illiteracy as the jumping point.

However, once the tiny fairytale figures appeared, his grief seemed to all but disappear, and the adventure story took over too much. The end felt too neat and convenient. By saving the stories, everything else magically fell in to place. They even find money elsewhere to fix the house. I guess I just wanted it to keep a bit more of the darker tinge that the film started with. It could've been a great film about dealing with death and grief, but it seemed to take the easier path.

At any rate, it was still a fun movie, and I think an excellent choice for anyone looking for a film to show their kinds that will help instill in them a love of books.

Chonmage purin

2011-06-09T16:03:00.001-05:00

I recently had the opportunity to watch a charming Japanese film called Chonmage purin (2010). The film does not seem to have an actual film distribution agreement with any English-speaking companies, so there is no official translation of the name yet. The subtitles that my wife and I saw gave the title A Boy and his Samurai, but the original Japanese title actually just means "Chonmage pudding." Chonmage is a hairstyle commonly worn by samurai during the Edo period and worn today (though without the top of the head shaved) only by sumo wrestlers.

Synopsis
The film is a romantic comedy with the emphasis on comedy. The crux of the plot is this: Yasube, a samurai from the Edo period, is "spirited away" to the present, where he ends up finding shelter with a divorced mother Hiroko and her 5 year old son Tomoya. The film is pretty light and humorous, focusing a lot on the classic premise the immense culture shock experienced by a time traveller from the past.

However, the film does have it's share of dramatic moments as well. Afterall, what romantic comedy would be complete without it? This largely revolves around Hiroko's desire to be working woman. In fact, her previous marriage ended upon her request when her ex-husband continually expected her to take on all the household duties. Of course, the old-fashioned Yasube should be most misogynistic of all, and indeed is incredulous that she wants to work, wanted the divorce, and so forth. However, Hiroko explains that this is Tokyo now, not Edo, and that things work differently here. As such, Yasube decides to repay her for her hospitality by tending to the household duties so that she can devote herself entirely to her job. It's through this that Yasube discovers his passion and skill in making desserts such as puddings and cakes.

Eventually, Yasube enters a Father-Son Cake Baking Contest with the under-prepared Tomoya, which they win through determination and ingenuity. In fact, Yasube performs so well that he receives a job offer from a famous baker to come work in his kitchen. Yasube is, at first, hesitant, as he feels bound by his duties to the household, but Hiroko and Tomoya tell him to go for it. However, they are unprepared for how much he devotes himself to his new career and, ultimately, reverts back to his old patriarchal mindset. Although Hiroko had begun to fall for Yasube, she now feels like she's back with her old husband and asks Yasube to leave and find his own apartment now that he is able. The two proceed to avoid each other until Tomoya goes missing while they are both at work. They take off and join forces to try to find him again.

A brief history of the samurai
It should be obvious from the above synopsis that this film seems to be concerned with the idea of gender roles in modern Japan. The time-travelling samurai from Edo period (1603-1868) obviously has symbolic references to the patriarchal traditions that Japan was built upon for many, many centuries.

At this time, I will point out that the Edo period was sort of the last stand of the samurai, during which they experienced a great amount of power, freedom, and status. Towards the end of the Edo period, In 1853, Commodore Matthew Perry forced Japan to open itself to Western trade, which quickly led to the modernization of the samurai and Japan as a whole. The last major conflict that prominently featured samurai was in 1877. The following year was the Meiji Restoration and the beginning of the Meiji era. Under the new government, the samurai class was dissolved. As such, Yasube's historical origins not only suggest an older, patriarchal way of thinking, but also one that is nearing its decline. There is a certain fatality to Yasube in that we know the fate of the samurai. Likewise, his decision to take on the duties of the household suggest the dissolution of the samurai class.

Gender issues
All in all, there are a lot of subtleties in the historical references that, at the very least, were not lost on me. Of course, this all looks like this film must, therefore, be a very rousing, intellectual, and insightful exploration of gender issues in Japan. Let me therefore assure you that it is, still, a comedy first-and-foremost. So while I think this film could find a welcome home in a class on, say, feminism in cinema, I think someone looking for a truly great commentary on these issues will be sorely disappointed. It deals with these issues in the same way that Juno deals with teenage pregnancy. That is, it's used more for the plot's conflict than for in depth analysis and discussion. And maybe that's for the best. After all, it's a romantic comedy. It's main function is to entertain, and it does that quite well.

Still, the film does still have something interesting to say when all is said and done. The message was not one that I would call particularly feminist or anti-feminist in the strongest sense of those words. Rather, the point seems to be that we need to find a balance in our lives between work and family. The film fully acknowledges that work can be a great creative outlet and that everyone should be able to experience of doing something with their time and energy that they can be proud of. However, it also addresses both the joys and responsibilities of family, and that we need to decide what is really most precious and important to us. The film seems to say that we (both men and women) should put family over career, and I think this is a fine message, especially for a country as notoriously workaholic as Japan.

I laughed
But enough with all the analytical stuff. Really, that's not what this film is about. It's supposed to entertain, and that it most certainly did. And honestly, I think it was an excellent film for my wife and me to watch together. There was all the pastry chef stuff for her, and the samurai stuff for me.

And trust me, if you are interested in samurai and chanbara, you will find plenty to enjoy in Chonmage purin. Just seeing the proper mannerisms so characteristic of chanbara completely displaced in the modern setting was already quite amusing to see.

At any rate, I would certainly recommend this to anyone should they ever get a chance to actually see it. Who knows, maybe it will get a distribution agreement here, although I certainly wouldn't hold my breath.

Njom Njom Kitchen: Stove-top popcorn

2011-05-05T12:52:00.001-05:00

All you movie-lovers might want to check out my post on how to make popcorn on the stove over at Njom Njom Kitchen, the foodie blog I share with my wife.

If you're still throwing a bag in the microwave before you sit down to watch your DVDs, you may want to consider changing your snacking habits, because that microwave stuff just doesn't hold a candle to stove-top popcorn.

Wisconsin Film Festival 2011: Sunday

2011-04-15T11:59:00.001-05:00

My last day of the film festival featured quite a diverse selection, and in that way it may be the best single day to show what kind of things the Wisconsin Film Festival has to offer. Of course, one of things I totally missed was some of the locally-produced films shown at the festival, despite the fact that the organizers strongly encouraged people to go. I certainly would be interested in seeing some Wisconsin-made films, but I guess I got caught up in the excitement of seeing a lot of new foreign films on a big screen. I also made a concerted effort to see as many Nordic films as possible, as that is my primary topic of study. Still, I missed out of Red Chapel (Det røde kapel, Denmark 2006) as well as a Finnish short at the very least. But alas, I guess you can't see them all, right?

At any rate, the three films I saw on Sunday were Le quattro volte, The Light Thief, and Everything Will Be Fine. As before, there may be some spoilers ahead, although I do keep the ultimately twist of Everything Will Be Fine a secret.

LE QUATTRO VOLTE (2010)
Director: Michelangelo Frammartino
Country: Italy
Languages: Italian

Synopsis
This film is probably best classified as "experimental," or at the very least, "non-conventional." I put up there that the language was Italian, which is true to a point, but at its core, Le quattro volte was primarily a quiet, wordless film. All speech was incidental and was left untranslated—the film had no subtitles. Even the title seems to have avoided the touch of a translator, though for those curious, it means "The four stages" or "The four times."

The film begins with an elderly goat farmer who appears to be ailing from some kind of respiratory illness. That night, he mixes a strange black powder into a glass of water and drinks it. The next day, he awakes and milks the goats, then takes the milk around for delivery. When he delivers to the cathedral in his village, the woman there gives him a packet of holy dust, freshly swept from the floor. It is this dust that he drinks at night as medicine.

However, that day, while he is in the field tending his goats, the packet slips from his pocket, unbeknownst to him. That night, he searches frantically for the packet of dust, until he finally goes out into the rainy night and begins banging on the doors to the church. However, it is to know avail, as we cut away to his funeral. Just as they close up the catacomb in which his body rests, the film cuts again suddenly to the birth of a baby goat. The cut seems to imply a connection, as if his death and the goat's birth are directly related. Perhaps it is reincarnation?

We now see the goat begin his new life. Soon, he is old enough to go out with the rest of the herd to graze in the pastures. However, he becomes separated from the rest and wanders, lost and aimless, until finally he gives up in the shade of a large tree, presumably to die. The body must decompose and feed the tree, though. Later, the tree is cut down by the villagers for a festival, and then it is sent to be turned in to charcoal. The charcoal is taken and eventually delivered to the cathedral, when it is burned and turns into dust and ashes.

An experience
I'm very glad I went to see this movie, but it was probably my least favourite at the festival. I think that's how experimental films will often go. They push the boundries of what a normal film is and can be, and while the outcomes are often very surprising and interesting, they are often a little awkward too. Thankfully, Le quattro volte was still quite watchable despite its length, most likely because it played with narrative structure rather than pushing the visuals or audio into unusual territory.

The story was certainly unique, and I think its presentation of the cycle of life was pretty interesting. However, some of the links were stronger than others. In particular, the link between the man's death and the goat's birth is rather forced. I think I would've found it a bit more compelling if all the connections were more obvious in the scene of life. I mean, I think the overriding theme and message of the film is the interconnectedness of all life on earth, but that message is weakened when the connections themselves are weak. However, I guess they do help this a little bit by having the old man be a goat farmer, and thus he at least helps to raise and foster the lives of goats, much like the young goat that is the focal point of the film's second "stage."

THE LIGHT THIEF (SVET-AKE, 2010)
Director: Aktan Abdykalykov
Country: Kyrgyzstan
Languages: Kyrgyz

Synopsis
Mr. Light ("Svet-Ake" in Kyrgiz) is an electrical engineer in a rural Kyrgyz village. He is building his own windmill to try to generate some electricity. He also has a habit of setting the electrical meters to run backwards for villagers who can no longer afford to pay for electricity. The authorities discover what he is doing and originally prohibit him from working, but he eventually gets his job back when it comes to light that one of Mr. Light's good friends is connected to a rich entrepreneur who wants to buy the village.

While drunk with his friend, Mr. Light bemoans his inability to have a son, as all four of his children so far are girls. His friend tells him that he must get a shock to expel all the feminine energy from his body, and so Mr. Light immediately scales a light pole and electrocutes himself. His friend and some of the villagers quickly bury him up to his neck to ground him and he comes to again, and notices an attractive young girl with whom he becomes infatuated.

Soon, the rich entrepreneur hears of Mr. Light's skills and tries to befriend him. Mr. Light tells the entrepreneur his dream of filling a nearby valley with windmills to generate electricity for the entire village, and the entrepreneur says that if Mr. Light can aid him in buying the town, he will help Mr. Light achieve his goal. The entrepreneur brings in Chinese investors and has Mr. Light set up the lighting in a yurt and sit in on their meeting. The entrepreneur lavishes the investors in good food and drink, and then announces he will put on an erotic show for their pleasure. When the entertainment in question happens to be Mr. Light's new infatuation, he snaps and attacks the investors and entrepreneur before fleeing. He short-circuits the entire village's electricity, plunging the village into darkness, and then continues to flee. They catch up to him and (presumably) kill him (the scene is a bit ambiguous). At that moment, a strong gust blows through the village, causing the windmill to break loose. As it spins, the solitary lightbulb connected to it begins to shine weakly.

Culturally dense
I liked the feel of this film, and I thought the characters where beautiful and very human. Mr. Light felt very genuine and although a little odd and misguided, felt like he had a good heart. However, I feel like I only really got part of the story. There were numerous moments where I felt culturally unable to completely understand what was going on. In particular, there were two scenes in the film where the electricity in the town goes out and everything is plunged into darkness. Both times, it was accompanied by slow-motion shots of donkeys going crazy. I feel like there had to be some cultural significance to this. It felt too out of place otherwise.

Cultural differences aside, I thought it was a very beautiful film, and I think it had a lot to say about life in Kyrgyzstan. I just wish I had a better idea of how to contextualize it. I want to understand it better. Perhaps with a bit of time, I'll be able to find some reviews where people can do so far me, as I hope I am able to do with those films where I am able to help explain context for my readers.

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE (ALTING BLIVER GODT IGEN, 2010)
Director: Christoffer Boe
Country: Denmark, Sweden
Languages: Danish

Synopsis
Everything Will Be Fine focuses on a scriptwriter named Jacob Falk who is working on a script for a new film about war. However, he is stuck in writer's block, and decides to go for a late night drive to clear his head, but ends up accidentally running over a young man. The man was a soldier in the war who pleads with Jacob to take his bag and hide it. Jacob drives off and calls in the accident from a pay phone, without identifying himself. Later, as he looks through the bag, he finds photos of gruesome acts of torture committed by Danish soldiers fighting in the Middle East.

What follows from here is a thriller about Jacob's attempts to get information about the photographs and find a way to make them public. While he is worried about the photos, his wife continually nags him to get their adoption request forms and check over them, but he continues to promise that he'll do it the next day.

Unfortunately, the photos are stolen from his car, and he becomes increasingly paranoid and violent as the authorities continue to deny everything and seem to be arranging things against him.

Paranoia
Everything Will Be Fine was definitely the most exciting of the films I saw. It was fast-paced and left you on the edge of your seat. The film also had some very impressive cinematography with a strong feeling for lighting effects, and the film frequently features lens flare as a defining element of its style. There are also some clever compositions. For example, when Jacob calls in about the accident, he notices a security camera at the gas station. Back at his hotel, the mural painted on the wall above the bed is of a security camera that happens to point directly at his head. This is just one instance where the film creates a mise-en-scène that reinforces Jacob's paranoid mindset.

The film also uses tilt-shift photography extensively, especially for establishing shots. For those unfamiliar with tilt-shift, it's a photography technique in which the focus area can be squashed in wide angle shots (shots from very far away). That kind of focus area is usually only possible with very close-up images, like if you take a close-up photograph of a small toy soldier or a fly on the wall. When you take tilt-shift shots of cities, you often get the illusion that it is a model town. You can check out some examples of it here.

In films, an establishing shot is a shot of the setting that places the following scene within some context. Think of an American TV show where they show the building where the action is going to take place for a split second before cutting to the actual action. It's a fairly common technique that helps us place scenes into some sort of geographical scene of space. If you're not completely aware of these shots, that's okay; they are such a common part of the filmic language that we tend to automatically read right through them the same way most people don't really pay attention to every time there is a cut in a film.

Anyway, by filming the establishing shots with tilt-shift, Eveything Will Be Fine begins to create an uneasy feeling. For one, these shots become more visible to the viewer and disrupt the ease with which we can "read" the film. Also, the film draws a connection between the real spaces in which the drama occurs and the model diaramas that Jacob uses while writing his scripts to help plot out action. The feeling is unsettling, as if the characters in the film are pieces in someone's chess game, being controlled from afar by some omniscient power. Again, the touches of paranoia and conspiracy are obvious. This was, perhaps, the film's strongest point, as it was able to gently play with all the elements to fully develop and materialize the mental landscape of Jacob's mind into the visual space of the film itself.

The film also features some major twists, as any good thriller should, with the biggest one coming, of course, at the end. The ending is satisfyingly mind-bending. Think something like The Sixth Sense or Fight Club where everything finally clicks and you want to go back and rewatch it to find all the clues you missed along the way. Everything Will Be Fine would be my second favourite film at the festival, I think, after Medal of Honor. I would certainly recommend it, especially to anyone looking for a good thriller.

Wisconsin Film Festival 2011: Saturday

2011-04-13T00:04:00.000-05:00

While I really enjoyed Thursday and Friday and thought the movies were great, it wasn't an experience that immediately cried out, "This is a film festival!" Yes, it's true that I saw two very interesting and unique films that you would rarely get a chance to see in the theatre, but to an extent, it just felt like attending UW's weekly Cinematheque showings or the screenings by Gonzo Media at NMU. But then, I imagine this is how a lot of people experience the festival. Not everyone has the time to go out and see multiple films in one day, and instead it's just like your usual night out at the local cinema, only with a decidedly more "arthouse" slant than you'd normally get.

Saturday was different, though. I saw three films starting at 11:30 in the morning and continuing until about 8:00 at night. Of course, I had some down time in there, but in essence, my entire day was primarily concerned with watching films. This had a newer feel to it—a feel that I think is undeniably different from seeing just one film. No longer is it a piece of entertainment at the end of your day, but an integral part of the day itself. I have to say, as a film buff, that it felt good.

At any rate, I attended three films that Saturday: The Piano in a Factory, Medal of Honor, and A Somewhat Gentle Man. Interestingly, despite being from completely different countries and all having very different styles, all three shared a common interest in fathers and their attempts to connect with their children. Weird how it worked out that way, I suppose.

As a note, all of the following sections contain some spoilers about the films.

THE PIANO IN A FACTORY (GANG DE QIN, 2010)
Director:Zhang Meng
Country: China
Languages: Mandarin

Synopsis
After years apart, accordion-player Chen Guilin's wife returns to request a divorce, as she wants to marry her new boyfriend, a man who became rich selling phony medicine as a homoeopathic cure. All she asks for in the divorce is custody of their daughter, Yuan, who is currently living with Guilin. Soon after, Guilin is caught sneaking his daughter into the local school at night so she can practice the piano and they are kicked out. Guilin paints piano keys on a piece of wood so that Yuan can still practice, but she complains that it doesn't make any sound. Guilin explains to her that if she is very quiet and listens very closely, she can hear the notes in her heart. He demonstrates by playing a melody on the fake keyboard, with the film's soundtrack gradually filling in the silence with a song played beautiful on a grand piano.

However, this gesture ultimately fails when Yuan decides that she will go with whichever parent can buy her a piano, a task far harder to accomplish for Guilin than his now wealthy wife. Still, he persists, trying first to borrow money from everyone he knows. However, when they fail to raise enough money, they decide in a night of drunkenness to steal the school's piano. The caper is likewise a failure, and Guilin seems to be all out of options. Unwilling to give up, he finally arrives at one finally possibility: to use the town's recently abandoned factory to build the piano from scratch. Though reluctant at first, all of Guilin's friends sign on board to the hair-brained idea which becomes the focal point of the rest of the film.

Hearing with your heart
Although The Piano in a Factory is invariably described as a drama, I have at times seen people also describe it as a comedy. The film is certainly a bit absurdist at times and certainly keeps a more light-hearted tone for the most part, but I'm not sure how much I would really call it a comedy. I guess I am not terribly familiar with Chinese comedies, so I could be wrong. However, I felt the dramatic elements had, at the very least, a stronger presence.

Ultimately, I think The Piano in a Factory is a very genuine and touching story about a poor father's desire to be able to provide for his child. In the end, his attempts are futile, as the piano is not completed before the divorce is finalized, and he loses custody of his daughter. Still, the attempt seems to have helped him come to terms with his lose, just as the town comes to terms with the loss of the factory and its prominent smoke stacks, considered by many to be a beloved landmark. Although there is no point in completing the piano, the friends do so anyway, and Guilin requests that his ex-wife bring Yuan to the factory so she can play it once. The piano, made almost entirely of recycled steel, is a clumsy thing with terribly crude sound quality. And yet, as she plays it, the soundtrack supplants its clumsiness with another beautifully performed piece on an expertly-crafted grand piano. It is impossible not to recall Guilin's previous words about hearing the music in your heart. The implication seems to be that, while on the surface the piano purchased by Yuan's mother may seem better, Guilin's piano has something more important—something that you can only hear with the heart.

MEDAL OF HONOR (MEDALIA DE ONOARE, 2009)
Director: Călin Peter Netzer
Country: Germany, Romania
Languages: Romanian

Synopsis
The film begins with examples of the mundane existence of the elderly Ion I. Ion and his emotionally distant wife. They get their social security checks in the mail, complain about their apartment's heating, and try to avoid their landlord who is pestering them to pay their maintenance bill. And every time their son in Canada calls, his wife talks to him but never lets Ion listen in or talk to their son himself. However, their monotonous routine is suddenly broken when Ion receives a letter from the Romanian government stating that he is receiving a medal of honor for his heroic actions during WWII. Unable to recall any such actions, Ion originally raises objects with the government office and, upon receiving the medal, tries to sell it to a pawn shop, though the shop owner refuses to buy it.

Ion's own curiosity about the medal grows, and he begins pouring over all the old letters he sent to his wife during the course of the war. The only instance of any possible interest is one rather unassuming story: His troop came across a group of retreating Germans. One of the abandoned canons was still loaded, and Ion fired it at them, but didn't see what he hit, if anything. This must be it, he decides, but why? Did he hit something important? He begins to tell the story to everyone he encounters, and every time it grows larger and larger, until finally, he is linking his deed to the fall of Nazism itself.

As his story continues to grow, his problems seem to vanish. The landlord tries to get on Ion's good side by erasing his debt, hoping to take advantage of Ion's "prestige" for his own political reasons. Likewise, Ion's honor gives his family a reason to look up to him again. In fact, their son plans on returning to Romanian with his wife and child to see them again for the first time since he left many, many years ago. However, it comes to light that he received the medal due to a clerical error, and when he goes to protest, they forcefully grapples him and rip the medal from his chest. Distraught, he goes to find a similar medal at a pawn shop instead of going to the airport with his wife to pick up their son. When he finally gets back that night with the medal, everyone congratulates him on it at first, but then quickly forget all about it.

The final scene
This was my favourite film at the festival. It was a bit slowly paced, but I think the characters and emotions were very real and powerful. The pace gives you time to really get to know Ion as a person, and the entirety of the movie culminates in that final shot of Ion and his family. The camera is static, focusing on Ion and a bit of the family around him. They all compliment his medal at first and have the grandson look at it. The kid steals it from Ion and runs off with it, and although he does so as a playful act, it closely resembles the way that the government officials forcefully ripped his original medal from his shirt. You can see the moment of fear and panic in Ion's face, but then it softens. When his grandson gives it back, Ion tries to get the kid to hold on to it longer, but he's already distracted with something else. In fact, no one is paying attention to the medal any more. It's this moment when, wordlessly, Ion's face tells the full story. On his face I saw a final moment of realization. The medal is meaningless, and it always was. It doesn't matter. It wasn't the medal that he really wanted.

A SOMEWHAT GENTLE MAN (EN GANSKE SNILL MANN, 2010)
Director: Hans Petter Moland
Country: Norway
Languages: Norwegian

Synopsis
Ulric is fresh out of jail after a 12 year sentence for murder, and although his warden warns him to constantly look forward once he's out and not back to his time in jail, Ulric ends up right back where he left off. His old boss meets up with him and gets him a place to stay and a job as a mechanic, but also begins to pressure him into "closing his account" with the man who testified against him in court.

However, it becomes clear that Ulric is, actually, more interested in redemption. He does his best at his job and begins to win the trust of the body shop's owner. Likewise, instead of tailing the man who betrayed him, he goes to try to reconnect with his son, who is currently living with his girlfriend. They are expecting a child, and Ulric's son does his best to distance himself from his father. He reveals that he told his girlfriend that his father died, but when he finally tells her the truth, she refuses to allow Ulric to visit them ever again.

Despite finally rejecting his old mob boss's attempts to get him to murder again, Ulric's life begins to crumble. His new landlady has a habit of cooking him free meals, a benefit Ulric greatly appreciates. However, she misinterprets his table manners for flirtation, and begins to push herself on him. Now, every time she brings him dinner, she expects sex, which is begin to strain his newly blossoming relationship with the secretary at the body shop, who he seems to genuinely like.

As pressures mount, more and more of those around him give up on giving him another chance to prove himself. Feeling abandoned by everyone in his life, Ulric finally agrees to his old boss's demand that he must kill the man who testified against him. However, when he goes to commit the dreadful deed, he finds himself still unable to kill again. Furthermore, it becomes clear that Ulric's old boss has been lying to him and taking advantage of him.

Without any options left, Ulric goes to tell his son that his father is dead, most likely contemplating suicide, but only the wife is at home, as the son is off on a fishing trip. As she is angrily turning Ulric away, her water breaks. Ulric offers to drive her to the hospital in the car he borrowed from his boss. She gives birth in the back of the car, with Ulric helping her through the pain, and she ultimately comes around. "Daddy was gone, but your grandpa was here," she tells her newborn, and then thanks Ulric for helping her when she needed it most. Ulric's only response is, "No, thank you."

Ulric goes back to his boss to tell him that he failed to kill the snitch. His boss notices the stain on the backseat and goes off on Ulric from ruining his car. Finally fed up with all his shit, Ulric shoots his boss in the head, stuffs him in the trunk, and has the car crushed as a garbage dump.

Nordic humour
If you read that and though that this story seems rather dark, you might be right, but you also have to realize that this movie was a comedy. I've spoken of this before, but the Nordic sense of humour is particularly dark and cynical. Of course, you also have to understand that in Nordic countries, comedy is a fairly regular part of most films, as comedy tends to sell well there.

Anyway, the characters here all had very distinct personalities with their own quirks. For example, the owner of the body shop has a tendency to suddenly go off on long, rambling tirades about things he strongly believes in but which are, of course, fairly basic, normal things not requiring nearly as in depth of a monologue. And of course, the landlady's advances are anything but coy. Quite bluntly, she drops trough and ironically states something along the lines of, "If you're want it so badly, fine, but just get it over with, okay?"

Overall, I liked it, though I felt like it could've been done a little better. The more dramatic moments felt genuine within the context of the movie, but could've been handled with a little more finesse. I guess when it comes down to it, the film was a lot like Ulric himself: a bit crude with a slightly skewed sense of justice, but deep down, it's heart is in the right place.

Wisconsin Film Festival 2011: Thursday and Friday

2011-04-11T00:01:00.007-05:00

Unfortunately, my ability to attend the first three days of the festival was severely hampered by the fact that I work evenings. As such, I was completely unable to see any of the films screened on Wednesday, including Takashi Miike's chanbara 13 Assassins (Jûsan-nin no shikaku, Japan 2010), much to my dismay. Thankfully, the events stretched out a bit more on Thursday and Friday, affording me the time to see a film after work. In fact, I also had the time to see Red Chapel (Det røde kapel, Denmark 2006), a documentary about a Danish comedy troupe touring, of all places, North Korea. However, when I went to purchase tickets, it was already sold out.

At any rate, the two films I did manage to get in on Thursday and Friday were Sasha and Troll Hunter respectively.

SASHA (SAŠA, 2010)

Director: Dennis Todorović

Country: Germany

Languages: German, Serbo-Croatian, Bosnian

Synopsis

At its core, Sasha is a comedy about conflicting cultures, with the main conflict occurring between the "machoistic" Yugoslavian family in which Sasha is raised and the gay community to which Sasha longs to be a part. This film would be hard to completely localize in America due to the focus on cultures, but I suppose a way to help people understand the basic conflict would be to compare the basic tension to the kind of tension you'd expect in a film about a family moving from Kentucky to San Francisco, and the youngest son is a closet homosexual.

The first scene of the film sets up the basic tension excellently. During a rest stop on the family's trip back to Germany from Montenegro, Sasha enters a convenience store that sells porno mags. The film opens at this moment, as Sasha glances over the "normal," hetero porn, then looks out the window at his family, then slowly wanders over to the gay porn. As he tries to surreptitiously pull one out to look at it, the door opens and he panics, causing the entire rack of magazines to fall onto the floor. He hurried tries to collect them, but thankfully the person who just entered is a worker, who tells Sasha not to worry about cleaning it up. "Do you want to buy this one?" she asks. Sasha blurts out, "No!" then, after a pause, gives a far more timid, "Yes."

Overall, the plot largely concerns Sasha's crush on his piano teacher Mr. Weber. When Weber tells Sasha that he has finally gotten a job as a professor in Austria, Sasha becomes incredibly distraught. He finally confesses his sexuality to his best friend, a Chinese girl named Jiao who (unbeknownst to him) has a crush on Sasha. However, after her initial disappointment and anger, Jiao proves to be a true friend and tells Sasha that he needs to tell Weber how he really feels. What follows is, largely, Sasha's quest to accept himself and find acceptance from those he loves and cares about.

Mood

Of course, this all sounds like quick the drama, and that's very much what I expected to get when I attended. Sure, there might be some humour here and there, but I imagined a lot of melodramatic scenes revolving around the relationships between the characters. What I got was far, far more comedic. In fact, even in the film's absolute darkest and bleakest moment, the film is still throwing out jokes. To put it bluntly, one of the characters could have just died, but the film is still cracking jokes. A lot of the humour is directly referencing Sasha's homosexuality, and the more subtle jokes involve a lot of irony. For example, while at a gay bar, Sasha gets punched in the face, splitting his lip. When he returns home, his father assumes Sasha got hurt while fighting to defend Jiao's honour (who the family believes is Sasha's girlfriend).

Some of the other jokes involve cultural differences. For example, their Bosnian uncle who is visiting to make repairs to their bathroom repeatedly mishears Jiao's name as the Serbo-Croatian word for "devil." This joke is further carried to Sasha's brother Boki, who gets a tattoo of a devil on his right shoulder and who just so happens to have a crush on Jiao. (Wow, there sure are a lot of crushes in this movie, huh?) There was also a bit of toilet humour, which could be the most universal humour as it got the biggest laughs at the festival.

Still, the humour does not get in the way of character development and interrelationships. In fact, the humour is the main way that the film explores these ideas, using it to create a more light-hearted atmosphere in which to explore the interaction between gay cultural and society as a whole. Overall, the film was very well done and seemed to be a crowd-pleaser, and it's comedic take on the growing importance of gay culture in the world as a whole was well-executed.

TROLL HUNTER (TROLLJEGEREN, 2010)

Director: André Øvredal

Country: Norway

Languages: Norwegian

Synopsis

As with Sasha, I was once again surprised by just how comedic this movie was. The film is described as a horror film in the mode of a mockumentary, but I'd say it's the other way around. The film seems far more interested in creating a humorous "documentary" about a man who hunts trolls then in actually scaring the audience, but obviously some tenser moments arise, considering how dangerous a job troll hunting must be.

The film begins with a college-based news crew filming a story about a rogue bear poacher who has been killing bears without the official license or sanction of the government. (Norway is a very nature-loving country, so only specialists are allowed to hunt bears, and only when the bear has been deemed a threat to humans.) The crew finds the suspected poacher and follows him across Norway, periodically trying to confront him. However, the man is very reserved and refuses to discuss anything. Finally, they follow him out one night as he leaves camp in his Jeep. When they finally catch up to him, he is running the opposite way. He screams, "TROLL! RUN!" What follows is one of the film's more frightening scenes, due in large part to the increased sense of confusion from the film crew, including the camera man (who is eternally our POV for the film). This scene in particular is the most evocative of The Blair Witch Project (1999).

Having been found out, and feeling partly responsible for the fact that one member of the crew was bitten, the troll hunter Hans decides to allow them to continue filming what he does, if they still want to tag along, on the condition that they do everything he says. The crew agrees and the rest of the film focuses on Hans as he hunts trolls and tells the crew more about exactly what his job is.

Mood

As I said before, this film was much more comedic than I was expecting. Fans of horror cinema will likely not be particularly frightened or scared by the film, though I'm sure some people who are a bit jumpier may disagree with this comment. Still, it's far more of a parody of the "documentary" horror films than anything, so I would place it squarely in the genre of mockumentary. I'm not entirely sure how much of it was improvised, though certainly there would be a lot of room for ad libbing. You frequently feel like some of the conversations are done completely improv, with the actor playing Hans generating the "facts" about trolls as they go.

The audience seemed to appreciate a lot of the humour, though I sometimes wondered just how much and to what extent. For example, they make a rather obscure reference (for the United States, anyway) about a fairytale involving an eating contest with a troll, and the joke got its share of laughs. Did they catch the reference, or did they just catch the sense of timing that cues you in, "This is a joke"? Likewise, people seemed to enjoy Hans' stipulation that nobody Christian could come along because trolls can smell the blood of Christians. Culturally, Christianity (and religion in general) is on the decline in the Nordic countries, to the point where jokes about being ashamed of being a Christian are more socially relevant there than they would be in the States.

Interestingly, one joke flew in Madison far better than I'm sure it was intended to. At one point, the film crew asks Hans why he is letting them film. After all, it is a government job and he is committing treason by divulging these closely-guarded government secrets. He replies how the government job has shitty hours, shitty pay, and shitty benefits. Not surprising, given the current political climate in Wisconsin and in Madison in particular, this joke got huge roars of laughter from the audience.

Overall, Troll Hunter was probably the most outright entertaining film I saw at the festival and I'd highly recommend it to anyone looking for a film with a bit more of an offbeat sense of humour.

Wisconsin Film Festival 2011: Overview

2011-04-07T00:01:00.005-05:00

Last weekend I attended the Wisconsin Film Festival here in Madison and saw eight films: Sasha (Saša, Germany 2010), Troll Hunter (Trolljegeren, Norway 2010), The Piano in a Factory (Gang de qin, China 2010), Medal of Honor (Medalia de onoare, Germany 2009), A Somewhat Gentle Man (En ganske snill mann, Norway 2010), Le quattro volte (Italy 2010), The Light Thief (Svet-Ake, Kyrgyzstan 2010), and Everything Will Be Fine (Alting bliver godt igen, Denmark 2010).

Overview

The festival ran from Wednesday, March 30th to Sunday, April 3rd and showcased 211 different films from all over the world. The films were spread pretty evenly between the 9 participating theaters, which can be seen on this map. The longest walk would probably be from Monona Terrace to either of the two Memorial Union theaters, which would take less than half an hour and be just over a mile. Surprisingly, all but one of the films I attended were shown at the Orpheum theaters. The one odd film was the first film at the festival, Sasha, which was at the Play Circle Theater in the Memorial Union. I also had a ticket to see Cluny Brown (1946) at the UW Cinematheque as my ninth and final film, but decided to forgo it as I wasn't sure if I'd make it in time and my parents were coming in to visit that evening.

More or less on time

At any rate, the festival seemed to run pretty smoothly and it seemed like all the films being shown were high-quality, with the exception of a few "so bad it's good" style cult films generally appreciated for their unintentional humour and unusual styles. The volunteer staff all seemed rather friendly, at least at the theaters I visited, and the shows ran more or less on time. I say "more or less" because every show seemed to have a habit of starting about 5 minutes after the printed show time, at which point someone (usually festival director Meg Hamel) would introduce the film and run the short intro reel listing the sponsors and so forth. So, in general, the film itself would often begin a bit after the printed show time. Still, it was nothing major, and certainly a sign that things were well-run. There were no horror stories of the theater that got way off schedule, messing up everyone's plans.

Personally, I had built in at least a half hour between showings to allow myself to get to the next theater. And since most of the time, getting to the next theater meant walking out and immediately getting in line for the next show, I had plenty of time and usually managed to nab some prime seats. However, as I said before, the delay did contribute a little to my skipping Cluny Brown, though the largest deciding factor was that it allowed me to eat dinner with my parents.

Excellent staff and volunteers

Meg Hamel was the director of the festival, and I think she did an excellent job. She was always busy overseeing everything, and tried to introduce as many films as she could. And every time she did make an introduction, it seemed like she had personally watched the film. I don't know many many of the 211 films she had watched herself beforehand, but I'd wager it was a vast majority of them. She also helped create a nice, inviting atmosphere by chatting up the audience.

I will also say that I was impressed with the manager of the Stage Door Theater, who I initially met when I tried to go to my first film at that theater by entering through the Orpheum Main Theater doors. I was at first turned away and told I had to walk around to the other side of the building, but the Stage Door manager chased after me and said he could led me through the backstage areas so I wouldn't have to walk around the block. I saw him frequently when I went to showing at the Stage Door, and while seating people for the sold-out screening of Le quattro volte, he went around to all the seats known to be somewhat defective to make sure that the people were comfortable enough in them and tried to direct them to better seats if possible.

Really, the festival was an excellently run affair, and with a very wide and interesting range of films. It has a lot of potential, especially under the helm of Meg Hamel, to grow into a major film festival in the United States. However, it might need more and larger theaters to be able to attract and accommodate larger crowds. Likewise, a bigger push towards granting awards could help it become more relevant in the film community as a whole and attract more submissions.

At any rate, expect my reviews of the eight films I saw next week.

Senses of Cinema: Devil's Island

2011-03-13T23:44:00.004-05:00

My essay "Understanding the Socio-Political Background Behind Devil's Island" has been published by the online film quarterly Senses of Cinema. You can read it here.

The Secret in Their Eyes

2011-03-09T22:51:00.002-06:00

While waiting for In a Better World (2010, Hævnen) to become available, I finally got around to watching last year's Oscar winner for Best Foreign Language Picture, The Secret in Their Eyes (2009, El secreto de sus ojos). The film was Argentina's submission and beat out Germany's The White Ribbon (2009, Das weiße Band, Eine deutsche Kindergeschichte), France's A Prophet (2009, Un prophète), Israel's Ajami (2009), and Peru's The Milk of Sorrow (2009, La Teta Asustada).

Plot synopsis

The film, though not explicitly a mystery, certainly does borrow a lot from the mystery genre. The story follows a retired detective as he sets about writing a novel about an unresolved case involving the rape and murder of a young woman. The film oscillates between the present and his attempts to better understand the case as he writes and the past events of the case. Things unfold slowly, and there are certainly some twists, so I'll try to avoid spoiling too much.

The film begins with three stylistically shot scenes. First, we see a man leaving in a train, with a woman running after it. She catches up long enough to put her hand against the glass, with him doing the same. Then we see a new scene, accompanied by a voice over: "On June 21st, 1974, Ricardo Morales had breakfast with Liliana Coloto for the last time. For the rest of his life he'd remember every single detail of that morning: planning their first vacation; drinking tea with lemon for his nagging cough, with his usual lump and a half of sugar; the fresh berry jam he'd never taste again; the flowers printed on her nightgown; and especially, her smile. That smile like the sunrise, blending in with the sunlight on her left cheek."

Finally, there is a very brief, abrupt, and startling scene. It is composed of broken up shots with dutch angles and frantic camera movements. It shows the beginning of the rape.

Although unclear at first, we find out that all three of these scenes are pieces of the story that the detective, Benjamin Espósito, is trying to write. Currently, he has writer's block as he tries to figure out how to begin his novel. He seeks help from one of his old co-workers and unrequited love interest Irene Menéndez-Hastings, who tells him to just start at the beginning and go from there. And so, Espósito starts his story at the point where he first became involved in the case. The film follows from there in a logical fashion, unfolding the events as they happened, although it will occasionally jump back to the present, where Espósito does additional work and research and begins to understand the truth of the case better.

A life full of nothing

The film is thematically dense, addressing numerous intertwining concepts throughout the narrative. There are two quotes in particular that give a good sense of the kind of issues with which The Secret in Their Eyes is grappling.

The first is espoused by Espósito's partner and good friend, Pablo Sandoval. He says, "A guy can change anything. His face, his home, his girlfriend, his religion, his God. But there's one thing he can't change. He can't change his passion." The other quote is repeated by numerous characters, and comes as a somewhat rhetorical question, "How does one live a life full of nothing?"

To be honest, the film never fully resolves these issues and ideas. It is more an exploration into the human condition. It seems to state that, as much as people might change, their "true character" never will. The question of "How does one live a life full of nothing?" is an existential one, and we see different characters trying to answer it for themselves.

On a side note, the film also seems to suggest that the judicial system in Argentina is highly flawed. Numerous times in The Secret in Their Eyes, justice is served not through the proper legal system, but by people disregarding the law to take matters in to their own hands. Likewise, the system itself is repeatedly shown to be corrupt and self-serving. I don't know if there is cultural significance to this or not.

Final thoughts

Overall, my favourite part of this movie were the characters. They were quite colourful. In particular, Sandoval was great. He is the prefect blend of scummy drunken low-life and wise and genuinely good underneath all the filth.

The film is, honestly, quite excellent, and I think it deserved to beat The White Ribbon for Best Foreign Language Picture. I would certainly recommend it to any fan of foreign cinema.

The King's Speech

2011-03-07T14:57:00.004-06:00

A few nights ago, I watched this year's winner for Best Picture, The King's Speech (2010), and I'm here now to let you know what I thought of it. It was good. It wasn't great. But it was good, and it's definitely an "Oscars" kind of film. By that, I mean that it may not really be remembered much in the future for any reason other than winning an Oscar.

For example, you may remember The English Patient (1996), but you're probably more familiar with a film that lost to it: Fargo (1996). Of course, this becomes more pronounced the further back in film history you go. I think we've all heard of Citizen Kane (1941), but did you know it lost the award for Best Picture to How Green Was My Valley (1941), which also beat out the proto-film noir The Maltese Falcon (1941)? I could list numerous other examples, but I don't want to bore you. I think you got the point. You just have to take the Academy Awards with a grain of salt.

Superbly acted

That said, I did enjoy The King's Speech. It was well-done. Not surprising (as actors make up the largest voting percentage), the acting in particular was superb. It's thus not surprising that Colin Firth won Best Actor, as he did very well, especially considering the fact that he also had to create a convincing stutter. The film did exceptionally well at other award ceremonies as well, especially in the area of acting. It also seemed to be quite popular at British award shows, which shouldn't come as too much of a surprise. Afterall, the film is about one of their beloved monarchs, King George VI.

Human beings

However, that may be part of what I personally didn't like as much about this film. I tend to like movies about common, everyday people. Just look at some of my favourite films. Kurosawa's Ikiru (1952) is about a middle-aged bureaucrat who finds out he has stomach cancer. Dagur Kári's Nói Albinói (2003) and Dark Horse (2005, Voksne mennesker) are both about aimless slackers. Bille August's Twist and Shout (1984, Tro, håb og kærlighed) is about regular teenagers learning about love, sex, and friendship in 1960s Denmark. Closely Watched Trains (1966, Ostře sledované vlaky) could be about a great soldier, giving that it's set during the end of WWII in Czechoslovakian and features resistance attempts against the German occupiers, but it largely focuses on a boy who just wants to get laid.

But The King's Speech? It's about a king, obviously. And for whatever reason, that made me not connect with him as much. I will admit that the plot, centering on his struggle with a speech impediment, does serve to humanize him a great deal. Still, it's a different feel. This isn't a movie saying, "Look at this fragile human being. They have a story to tell too," but rather, "Look at this great political figure. They are a human being too." It's still a nice story, but it just doesn't appeal to me as much. And really, at the end, I feel like that was the only real point behind this film: to humanize a king.

Final thoughts

All in all, I think I would've preferred that Black Swan (2010) win. I think it had a more compelling story and message. It challenged people to think about the concept of "perfection" and the lengths that artists will go to attain it. It was uneasy at times for a reason. Not just because of the more grotesque, surreal scenes, but because of what those scenes represented. The King's Speech was always so clean and safe. Even the long burst of swear words in one of the scenes is pretty tame, all things considered.

And, of course, I was secretly hoping for Toy Story 3 (2010) to win. I think it's a film that will stick with people of all ages. And those who are seeing it for the first time will find it continuing to have new things to say as they watch it again and again throughout the years. Plus, after Arcade Fire won Album of the Year, it would be nice to see something else win an award outside of the subcategory it would normally be confined to (Best Alternative Music Album for Arcade Fire, Best Animated Feature for Toy Story 3).

83rd Academy Awards

2011-02-28T10:06:00.003-06:00

Just a short blurb here about last night's Academy Awards. I didn't watch it as I don't have television, but I did familiarize myself with the results.

The King's Speech seems to be the biggest winner, with four awards including the coveted Best Picture and Best Director awards, as well as Best Actor and Best Original Screenplay. I must admit that I have not seen this film yet. Personally, I was actually kind of hoping that Toy Story 3 would win Best Picture, if for the very fact that I don't recall an animated feature ever winning that category, and that it's honestly the one movie that was in the running that I would honestly consider owning one day.

At any rate, Inception tied with The King's Speech in the number of awards, but not in the level of "prestige." All four of its awards fall in the technical categories with Best Cinematography, Best Visual Effects, Best Sound Editing, and Best Sound Mixing. I have seen Inception, and while it was certainly entertaining, it was a far more technically impressive film than anything else, so none of this is too surprising. That said, I think Black Swan had better cinematography, personally.

However, there was one place where I was really, really hoping for "my" film to win, and it did. Yes, the only category at the Academy Awards that I really care about is Best Foreign Language Film. Not because I am so snooty as to think that foreign films are the only things worth watching and that American films are all garbage. No, it's because the rest of the categories won't really change what kind of movies we see. Not in any major capacity, anyway. However, countries that win the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film often gain a larger American audience in the years following their win.

So what am I getting at? Well, in case you missed it, In a Better World (Hævnen) won the award for Denmark, but I wouldn't be surprised to see all Nordic nations getting a bit of a boost from this. After all, Nordic films are often international productions between numerous countries, and then attributed to the nation that, essentially, originated the idea. In a Better World was financed by both Denmark and Sweden, as well as the Nordisk Film-Fond, an international company that funds films from all of the Nordic countries. As such, the film features both Danish and Swedish actors who speak their native language to each other (the Nordic languages are similar enough that they could almost be considered very distinct dialects).

At any rate, I'll be watching In a Better World as soon as it becomes available on Netflix and letting you know what I think. I'll also be excited to see the influx of Nordic films to the States that this award will likely bring.

Oh, and I figure I might as well mention it here: My essay "Understanding the Politics of Friðrik Þór Friðriksson's Devil's Island" is going to be published in the new issue of Senses of Cinema, and online film quarterly. I'll be sure to let you guys know when it goes up.

A Mother's Courage: Talking Back to Autism

2011-02-25T02:09:00.003-06:00

Recently, I sat down and watched Friðrik Þór Friðriksson's documentary A Mother's Courage: Talking Back to Autism (Sólskinsdregurinn, a.k.a. The Sunshine Boy, 2009). Although Friðriksson began his filmmaking career in the '80s with a series of documentaries, A Mother's Courage makes his first return to the format in almost 25 years. Of his early documentaries, the best-known (and the only one I have actually seen) is Rokk í Reykjavík (Rock in Reykjavik, 1982).

However, A Mother's Courage also places itself among some of Friðriksson's more recent feature films in its focus on mental illness. In 2000, he made Angels of the Universe (Englar alheimsins), a film adaptation of the semi-autobiographical novel of the same name by the author Einar Guðmundsson (who also wrote the film's script). The novel and book are both based on the life of Einar's schizophrenic brother Pálmi (renamed Páll in the book and film). Also, following on the heels of A Mother's Courage is Friðriksson's 2010 film Mamma Gógó (2010), another semi-autobiographical work in which his mother struggles with Alzheimer's disease.

A more realistic touch

I had seen both Angels of the Universe and Mamma Gógó before watching A Mother's Courage, so I was curious about how he would handle the subject of autism in this film. The two feature films were rife with Friðriksson's style of surrealism that delicately challenges our notion of reality. For example, there is a scene in Angels of the Universe where Páll appears to be hovering above his bed. Then, the camera rotates and we realize that the bed is propped against the wall and Páll is standing next to it. Likewise, in Mamma Gógó, we are present for various delusional scenes in with Gógó, in her confusion, believes that she sees her dead husband. In one scene, we hear running water. The dead husband wakes her up. And she steps out of bed into a large puddle of rising water that is slowly flooding the room. We wonder, at first, "Is this part of the delusion as well? Or is this real and she has accidentally left the water running?"

However, given that A Mother's Courage is a documentary and not a feature, he never played with our sense of reality like that. I can understand why. Documentaries are, by definition, more "real" than features. Still, part of me hopes that he would've found a way to sneak a few scenes in here and there that began to bend our understanding of just what is "real." In his two features, these scenes give us a glimpse into the reality of its subjects. It gives us a clearer understanding of what life must be like to them. I felt like he never fully attained this in A Mother's Courage. Perhaps the closest is a scene where we watch Keli (the "Sunshine Boy" and son of the "Mother") struggle to walk down a flight of stairs. The narrator explains to us that Keli's visual senses becoming easily overloaded, and as such he largely uses hearing and touch to navigate his world. However, when he is in a new environment and needs the visual cues to help him navigate, he becomes easily lost and confused. The stairs in question look oddly isolated in this shot, and his facial expressions help to give us a small window into his mind.

Overall, the cinematography is as starkly real as in Rokk í Reykjavík.

Music

I think I found the use of music the most interesting in this film. Much of the soundtrack is composed of songs by Sigur Rós, though Björk provides the track "Human behavior" as well. Although the music primarily serves to add to the overseas market (Björk and Sigur Rós are the most well-known Icelandic musicians internationally), I found the choice of music also had some interesting cultural significance as well.

If I remember correctly, the film begins with the Sigur Rós song "Svefn-g-englar," the music video for which featured autistic theatre performers. Overall, Sigur Rós is perhaps one of Iceland's most introverted band. They are notorious for their awkward interviews, in which they squirrel around and dodge questions. I suppose this may have changed a bit lately, but they can still be a bit eccentric in their interactions with the media.

At any rate, their cultural presence and musical style often evokes a certain introverted, almost "autistic" feeling that blends well with the subject of the film. Björk, who is certainly eccentric but hardly introverted, fits in well due to the lyrics of the song. "Human behavior" begins with these words:

If you ever get close to a human
And human behavior
Be ready to get confused
There's definitely no logic
To human behavior

It also describes the illogical nature of human emotions, saying, "They get terribly moody / Then all of a sudden turn happy."

At any rate, all the music ends up coming full circle during the film's final scene, in which Keli is finally able to communicate through the help of his teacher in order to tell his mother that he wants to learn to play the piano, as he has songs inside his head that he wants to let out.

Final conclusion

The film is certainly interesting and worth watching, though it also falls a bit into a niche market of those specifically interested in mental disorders and autism. The American release's change in title definitely gears itself more towards to this niche market. I find The Sunshine Boy a much more intriguing title, though I suppose it's less specifically descriptive for a market that is far less familiar with Friðriksson's name. However I think it shifts attention from Keli himself and his attempts to express himself and onto the mother's attempts to understand him.

Of course, they may have also renamed it to avoid any possible conflict with the 1975 film The Sunshine Boys.

My favourite Icelandic albums of 2010

2011-02-23T00:01:00.005-06:00

10 - Jukk by Prinspóló

Prinspóló is the solo project of Skakkamanage frontman Svavar Pétur Eysteinsson. Jukk is his debut album and second release, following the 2009 EP Einn heima. His style is rather poppy, even behind all the lo-fi static, with the songs ambling about quite playfully as he sings about such things and candy, food, and grandfathers.

This album could be much higher on the list, but sometimes the lo-fi style overpowers what else is there and causes it to come up feeling a bit lacking. However, when it really gets rolling, it's a lot of fun. If the entire album was a bit more like "Mjaðmir," "Skærlitað gúmmilaði," and "Niðrá strönd," this could easily jump up to number 6 or 7.

Listen to a free stream here.

9 - Í annan heim by Rökkurró

Rökkurró is beautiful, delicate, and soft, and these can all be very good things. However, sometimes it feels a little too soft. It might remind one a bit of earlier Sigur Rós but without as much energy. It definitely demands a certain mood from it's listener in order to truly enjoy it. Try putting it on while you curl up under a warm blanket on a cold winter night, sipping tea and reading a book of poetry.

"Sólin mún skína" and "Augun opnast" remain my favourites.

Listen to a free stream here.

8 - Kimbabwe by Retro Stefson

I had heard some early stuff by Retro Stefson and never thought much of them, but as Emily and I were preparing for Iceland Airwaves last year by listening to as many of the bands that would be there as we could, we came across Retro Stefson's song "Kimba." We were grooving to it immediately. The album is pure pop, but it's just so damn catchy that you have to put it on again and again and again. I dare you to listen to "Velvakandasveinn," "Mama Angola," "Kimba," and "Karamba" and not find yourself tapping your feet and bopping your head along with the music.

As of writing, the album is not streaming anywhere, but here's where it will be when Gogoyoko finally puts it up.

7 - Puzzle by Amiina

Amiina is probably best known as the string quartet that plays with Sigur Rós. Their style is decidedly soft and feminine, not unlike Rökkurró. That said, they're a bit higher because I find their feel a bit more unique and interesting.

This album builds upon their previous work by developing their sound into more distinctive and complex compositions. Puzzle feels more consciously composed and orchestrated than their earlier works, which sometimes sounded less like songs in the traditional sense and more like musical tinkering. Perhaps this is because Puzzle features far more singing than previous works. It could also be the new addition of the boys, Magnús Trygvason Eliassen and Guðmundur Vignir Karlsson (a.k.a. Kippi Kaninus). In particular, Magnús provides the all important addition of drums, which gives the new songs a strong backbone to rest upon.

My favourites off this album are probably "Over and again," "What are we waiting for?" and "Thoka."

Listen to a free stream here.

6 - Theater island by Sóley

This EP from Seabear member Sóley might be easy for a lot of people to miss. It's just six songs, but they showcase a lot of talent, especially for such a humble beginning. I saw her open for Seabear in Chicago and again during Iceland Airwaves, and she's certainly new to the whole thing. Sure, she plays with Seabear and provides keyboards for Sin Fang, but then she's not the one doing all the talking. She's not the one with all the attention. But despite all her nervousness, she really does create some remarkably beautiful and haunting music.

Although the album features an array of musical instruments, at the forefront is almost always her voice and the piano. The lyrics are just the right amount of bizarre, grotesque, sad, and even at times a little humorous. Marvellous stuff, and I can't wait to hear what else she has to offer. Okay, so I already heard a bit of her new material at Airwaves, but still.

Listen to a free stream here.

5 - Easy music for difficult people by Kimono

Okay, so technically this came out in December 2009, but I'm counting it anyway.

I remember getting Kimono's debut album Mineur-aggresif way back in high school and having my mind blown. I would usually save up my money and order a lot of Icelandic CDs at once to save on shipping, but when their second album, Arctic Death Ship came out, I order it right away. My first visit to Iceland, we saw them play a concert in Hafnarfjörður and I told frontman Alex MacNeil that I was his bearded twin. Ah, so many memories.

Anyways, Kimono is really a fantastic rock band. Their guitar work is great. The two guitars weaves melodies back and forth, building energy and power. I'm really happy that they've gained some popularity in America, because they definitely deserve it. I'm a little disappointed that we weren't able to see them live, but... c'est la vie!

It's hard for me to pick favourites, but "Vienna," "Black," "Karen," and "Kente" all seem to be crowd-pleasers. I'm also rather fond of "Animal."

Listen to a free stream here.

4 - Ljótu hálfvitarnir by Ljótu hálfvitarnir

This would be Ljótu hálfvitarnir's third album. I have to point that out because all three of them are eponymously titled Ljótu hálfvitarnir. Now let me point out that "Ljótu hálfvitarnir" literally means "The ugly halfwits" although the band says it's probably closer to say "Stupid bastards." Got an idea of what kind of band this is yet?

Yeah, they are fun as hell and funny to boot. The stuff has a definite folk feel with a lot of punk spirit. You'd be hard-pressed to find music more suitable for a bar full of rowdy drunks. To be honest, I don't really know what else to say about this album. If you like it, you're gonna like it. If not, then get bent! My favourites are probably "Gott kvöld, "464-pönk," "Eftirmæli," "Pörpúlókei," and "Hætt'essu væli," but to be honest, the whole album is amazing.

No stream, but you can download the tracks "Gott kvöld" and "Hætt'essu væli" for free here, along with some tracks from their other two albums.

3 - Go by Jónsi

The fact that Sigur Rós is my favourite band, it might actually be a little surprising that Jónsi's solo abum Go isn't higher on the list. And I can't really explain why that's the case. I like the album a lot. There's so much good to say about it. And when I saw him live in Milwaukee, it was amazing. The concert was so incredibly moving and powerful and beautiful. I can't even begin to tell you how well done the theatrics of the concert were. This might give you an idea of just how well-done it was:

Even watching that YouTube video, I start to get emotional. Imagine seeing that live, with all the waves and waves of emotion that come with live music. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried.

But maybe that's it. I had heard a few of the songs before the concert, but I hadn't really given it a good listen before seeing it live. And after that concert, the recorded album felt lifeless in comparison. It was like someone had tried to take all the beauty and emotion of that concert and put it onto a piece of plastic. Because Sigur Rós concerts have never ceased to completely outdo their records, but I've always gone in to it knowing all the songs by heart. The album had already had it's chance to make me love it on its own before seeing it live and being blown away.

At any rate, my favourite track is, hands down, "Kolniður," though I'm also quite fond of "Boy Lilikoi," "Hengilás," and basically the whole album.

Listen to a free stream here.

2 - Pólýfónía by Apparat Organ Quartet

Oh do I ever love this album. I liked Apparat Organ Quartet before, but this? This knocked them way up my list of favourite bands. They're right there along side Sigur Rós and Seabear now. Seeing them live certainly helped. They were my favourite show at Iceland Airwaves. Such energy and excitement! And although live music is almost always better than a recording, their new album certainly comes close, especially if you really crank up the volume.

This album is my hype album. It gets me pumped and going. If I put it on while I'm at work, I just zip through everything with a bounce in my step. Favourites? So hard to pick. I love every one of them, but some highlights are "Babbage," "Cargo frakt," "Konami," "Pentatróník," "Macht parat den Apparat," and "123 forever." If pressed to pick just one... "Konami"? At least at this moment.

Listen to a free stream here.

1 - We built a fire and While the fire dies by Seabear

While technically two albums, We built a fire and While the fire dies EP, I think the two are thematically and stylistically similar enough to consider them part of the same artistic work. And, in fact, they were bundled together for a while in the iTunes store and elsewhere.

Anyway, if you haven't noticed yet, Seabear ranks up there at the very top when it comes to my favourite music. My single favourite individual songwriter is Sin Fang, and I've been following him even since his first commercial release, Singing arc. That EP was released way back in 2004, when Seabear was just his solo project. I've watched Seabear grow into a band with seven steady members and a sizeable international fan base. When I saw them perform live in Chicago, it was surreal. Six years before, I had gotten the handmade Singing arc EP in the mail, consisting of a burned CD and case made of thick paper stitched together using red thread. I brought that album to the Chicago concert, and when I met up with Sindri after the show and asked him to sign it, all he could manage to say was, "Where do you find this? I haven't seen one of these in years." Perhaps the only CD I have that is more precious to me is the copy of the unreleased Elgar Sisters sessions that my friend Gulli burned for me. Neither look like much, but they are very rare commodities, and the greatest treasures stashed away in my music collection.

Now maybe you are reading that and thinking I am rather elitist. Perhaps you think I am implying, "Look how great I am! I liked them before anyone knew who they were!" I assure you, that's not my intention. Yes, I am proud that I have been a fan since the earliest days, but I do not think I am better than "newer" fans or anything like that. I welcome new fans. I want people to like Seabear, because I think they deserve it. If you are my friend and I have not tried to introduce you to them yet, then I have no idea how you managed to avoid it.

At any rate, We built a fire and While the fire dies may be my favourite works from them yet. There is such complexity of sound and style. You can feel all the influences combining and begetting new and interesting sounds. There is a lot of different emotions as well. Some are sadder, some happier. Sindri's lyrics are fantastically written. There is a lot of cleverness and wildness to it all. Yes, these are my favourite album of 2010, but it is also two of my favourite albums of all time.

I love all these songs, but if pressed for highlights, I'd say "Wooden teeth," "Softship," "We fell off the roof," "Warm blood," and "Wolfboy" off of We built a fire and "Pocket knife" and "Doctor" off of While the fire dies.

Listen to a free stream of We built a fire here.

Listen to a free stream of While the fire dies here.

The Suburbs by Arcade Fire

2011-02-21T00:01:00.010-06:00

As many of you know, there was a major upset at the latest Grammys when Arcade Fire won Album of the Year for their album The Suburbs. A lot of people were confused and annoyed by this because Arcade Fire has had very little airplay on the radio, despite the fact that their album sold incredibly well and has been highly praised by critics. They just aren't really great radio material.

At any rate, I figured, "Hey, here's an 'indie' album that's been so highly praised that it beat out Eminem, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and Lady Antebellum for the coveted Grammy for Album of the Year. I might as well check it out." After all, this is a significant event for independent music. At least within my recollection, this is the first time an indie band has been welcomed in to the mainstream music industry with such open arms. I think it's an important event in music history. The growth of the internet has brought with it a new way to find and share music, and smaller bands are given more and more of a chance to prove themselves to the general public. Arcade Fire has clearly won its share of hearts (and made its share of enemies, if http://whoisarcadefire.tumblr.com/ is to suggest anything). So why not give The Suburbs a listen?

It grows on you

I have to admit, on first listen, the album felt... kinda bland. There is a bit of this "wall-of-sound" style I associate heavily with Sindri Már (Sin Fang / Seabear), where layers of sound are built on top of each other to create unique melodies and moods. However, even Sindri's solo stuff under the name Sin Fang has such numerous and varied layers and given that Arcade Fire and Seabear both have seven members, I wanted them to both have same kind of sublime variation and energy. However, The Suburbs felt... lacking. That is at first.

However, it grew on me. I wanted them to be Seabear rather then letting them be who they are. There are similarities, but also major difference. How can I say this?

Yes, I did just compare a Grammy winner

to a Turkish pastry.

Seabear is like the flakiest of strudels and Arcade Fire is like a dense, sticky baklava.

See, both of them have those delicious layers, building up to an amazing texture. But Seabear's layers flake off from each other so easily, their layers of sound trading prominence off and on, with each one getting its own beautiful moment. Inside the strudel that is Seabear there is a sweet filling, like bright trumpets, sawing fiddles, and a certain rhythm and upbeat that just bursts with energy. Meanwhile, Arcade Fire's layers feel denser, like they are stuck together with honey. The layers stay more or less in their place, each one behind the other where they're meant to be. It's also a bit more savoury, with a heavier feeling.

Ah, extended metaphors...

Anyway, just looking at the lyrics, you can see the difference. Both deal with typical human problems and express a certain feeling of existentialism in a rapidly modernizing world, but they address them in different ways. Sindri's writing has a surreal quality to them, with odd references to animals, bones, and other elements of nature. There's a certain wildness to it all, and you feel in it a strong desire to return to the wild. Arcade Fire comes from a far more urban point of view. They are more literal, directly addressing concepts of urbanization, modernization, the suburbs, the sprawl, and a feeling of meaningless. The lyrics in songs by Seabear seem to long for an early time when everything seemed to make sense, while Arcade Fire merely mourns its loss.

Conclusion

Long story short, The Suburbs certainly deserved the award, and if you haven't listened to it yet, give it a try. And if you're still not sure how you feel, listen to it a few more times. You may be as surprised as I was to find the songs stuck in your head. Oh, and for the record, "Sprawl II (mountains beyond mountains)" is my favourite track on the album.

So, all this thinking about music got me thinking about my favourite albums of 2010, and in particular, my favourite Icelandic albums of 2010. So look forward to that in my next post!

Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Episode 3: Make My Video: Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, Part 2

2011-02-19T02:24:00.002-06:00

The second part. I tried putting them in the same post, but even that went wonky. So much technical difficulties. Argh.

Watch Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Episode 3: Make My Video: Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, part 2 in Tech & Gaming | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Episode 3: Make My Video: Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, Part 1

2011-02-18T23:22:00.006-06:00

After some technically difficulties that caused a bit of a delay, I finally got the video for our Let's Play! of Make My Video: Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch up and working. I just had to split it into two parts. Enjoy!

Watch Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Episode 3: Make My Video: Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, part 1 in Tech & Gaming | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Episode 2: Masked Rider: Kamen Rider ZO

2011-02-16T01:26:00.003-06:00

Watch Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Ep 2: Masked Rider: Kamen Rider ZO in Tech & Gaming | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Episode 1: Dragon's Lair

2011-02-14T00:23:00.003-06:00

Watch Let's Play! Sega CD XXXmas Ep 1: Dragon's Lair in Tech & Gaming | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Alas, we probably should've had Dan play it on camera, as his insights into the minute details were revealing and explained why I was dying so damn much. Perhaps sometime he can leave a comment with more specific thoughts on the topic, but for right now, I'll just say that it's not that I completely suck at Dragon's Lair. This version is just a little janky.

The Triplets of Belleville

2011-02-03T01:29:00.003-06:00

I apologize for the lack of posts lately. I have no excuse besides one: I've been dealing with some major writer's block lately. It really hit when I tried to start work on an essay about Friðrik Þór Friðriksson's Mamma Gógó that was submitted by Iceland for this year's Academy Award for Best Foreign Picture but ultimately not accepted. I'm stepping back and rethinking how to approach it now. I also figure that The Triplets of Belleville (2003, Les triplettes de Belleville, dir. Sylvain Chomet) will give me a decent point to start back into writing on this blog, as it's relatively light fare when it comes to more analytical writing. So here we go. Wish me luck!

The Triplets of Belleville

To be honest, I don't really remember how I found out about this film. I think I came across the trailer at some point and said, "That looks interesting!" I then added it to my Netflix queue, where it sat in waiting for a while until I had all but forgotten about it. Such can be the nature of Netflix.

At any rate, I enjoyed the film for what it was, a fun and unique animation. Story-wise, it's pretty simple. The film starts with a young boy who gets a dog and a bike from his grandmother. He trains on the bike until, one day as an adult, he enters the "Circuit de France." However, he ends up being kidnapped by some men in black, at which point his grandmother, Madame Souza, and his dog, Bruno, set out to try to find him. On the way, they gain the aid of a the Triplets of Belleville, three aging sister who were once famous musical performers.

A story without much to say

There isn't much of a message or a point to it all. It's mostly for the fun of it. The story itself is conveyed visually, with very sparse dialogue that is rather incidental. I watched the English dub, but I could've easily watched the original French (not available on the DVD) and gotten the same basic experience. In fact, only about half of the rather sparse dialogue was translated at all, with the rest (such as the announcers voice during the bike race) was left in French.

Really, all of it points to one thing. This movie is about the animation, plan and simple. Everything else is just there in-as-much as it needs to be to allow the animation to exist. The story and dialogue are pretty bare-bones, because that's not what it's about. It's about having fun with a bizarre and interesting style.

However, the characters are a little more developed than the plot and dialogue. We get a feel for the kinds of people that populate the screen. The strong-willed and hardy Souza, the loyal Bruno, the fun-loving and slightly insane triplets, etc. They come to life, but again, it's mostly through the animation. They are all drawn and animated to really bring out a certain look and feel that defines them.

"A far cry from either Walt Disney or Japanese anime"

The film bills itself as being something different from anything you've seen before. This may not be 100% true, as it certainly takes its cues from some of the original animations dating back to the first filmic era, and there have been other animators to play extensively with the medium. However, it certainly is a film you don't see everyday, with a rather unusual style. The film has a certain dark, dingy quality that's hard to put your finger on, but when you see the scene where one of the triplets goes fishing from frogs using a hand grenade, you might get the idea what I mean.

Emily was reminded of the Professor Layton games while watching this film. The visual style certainly has some connections, though Layton is less peculiar and more polished. Layton is undeniably child-friendly. Meanwhile, even though there isn't anything too disturbing or offensive in The Triplets of Belleville, there is something to its crude peculiarity that feels like its just meant for an older audience.

Meanwhile, I couldn't help but be reminded of one of my favourite shows as a child, Courage the Cowardly Dog. Courage is much more cartoony than Belleville, but both of them have an odd, darker sense of humour that's still appropriate for kids.

Overall, the movie was quite entertaining to watch, if a little bizarre. The scenes with the frogs were just... a little odd. But the music was superb and the animations was fairly impressive.

I almost forgot the music! Much of the score seems to hinge on the song "Belleville Rendez-vous." There's a lot of that swing feel with atypical and inventive instrumentation.

Check out the trailer for a look at both the visual style and the music:

Golden Sun: Dark Dawn

2011-01-11T00:53:00.002-06:00

I liked Golden Sun: Dark Dawn. I liked it a lot. I got this game for Christmas, and despite falling ill, still managed to put in a full work week beating it. Yes, I beat it in about a week, logging just over 38 hours of gameplay. I still have some post-game bonus material to tackle, though most of my gaming time has been devoted to Red Dead Redemption lately. Still, I suspect I'll be picking it up again shortly to do the bonus challenges.

At any rate, this game topped my list of Best Games of 2010, primarily for one very big reason: This game is everything I loved about the originals, but with better graphics.

More of the same

My favourite games on GBA as a kid had to be Golden Sun and Golden Sun: The Lost Age. That's not to say that there weren't other great games on GBA, but they were still superb entries. They were very fun RPGs, replete with plot-twists and puzzles, and it's all there again with Dark Dawn.

Although within the story, the world of Weyard has undergone radical changes in the 30 years since the end of Teh Lost Age, very little has changed gameplay-wise. Yes, small towns have become countries, landscapes have changed, a new race of beastman have emerged, and there's been the appearance of dangerous psynergy vortexes, but when you look at the gamplay mechanics? It's just more of the same. Which isn't a bad thing, mind you. I loved the originals, so it's good to be back there again.

Is it just me, or is it easier?

There is one thing that has changed, or at least feels different. It feels... easier. But maybe I'm just misremembering things. After all, I was 13 and 14 when I played the originals. I'm 22 now, nearing 23. Still, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that it was just... easier than those originals were.

Hey, look! It's Isaac!

Er, wait... I guess it's his son.

In the context of the story, you play as the children of the Warriors of Vale, who were the protagonists of the original series. Maybe that adds to it. After all, even though the Warriors of Vale were kids too in those first two games, they were doing it for the very first time. No one had mastered psynergy (i.e. magic in the Golden Sun universe) before. But now you're just following in your father's footsteps. It makes the characters feel more like kids than those original heroes were.

At any rate, I never really struggle much with this games puzzles. As it went on, there were a few where I had to try it a few more times to get it, but I was never left staring at my DS, scratching my head and saying, "I have no idea how I'm supposed to do this." If I tried a solution and it failed, I would see the correct solution shortly thereafter.

Still, the sheer complexity of the final dungeon was, at the very least, impressive. There is one par where you must line-up shadows to create an image, which is really cool to see come together (if easy to solve).

Using Djinn

In addition to the more involved puzzles that involve the use of psynergy outside of battle, something that already makes the Golden Sun series stand out from your generic RPGs, there is also the addictive combat system. In addition to your standard Attack/Magic/Item/etc menu-driven combat system, there is the option of using Djinn.

Djinn are cute little creatures that aid your party. When you equip or "set" Djinn to your characters, they provide statistical increases and can alter your available Psynergy, making you stronger in general. You can then unleash the Djinn to perform special attacks. For example, one might allow you to disregard an enemies Defence for that attack, or it might have a chance of poisoning the target. Other Djinn will heal the party's HP, PP (Psynergy Points), status ailments, or revive characters who have been knocked out. Once unleashed, the Djinn enter "Standby," and are ready to help you summon.

In order to use a summon, you must have a certain number of Djinn on Standby, after which point they will slowly re-equip onto their respective characters. The system provides for various levels of strategy. You don't want to unleash all your Djinn and have your stats drop, but they perform strong attacks and allow for you to use powerful summons.

Overall, combat was, again, pretty easy. That is, except for the final boss. He was way harder than the rest of the game ever suggested. The first time I fought him, I lost. It was the first time I lost a battle, and it reset me at the beginning of the dungeon with half my money. I don't know if this is normal or if it's for the final boss only, as the game did seem to go easy on you even with this daunting foe. See, all the random encounters in the area just before him were set up to help you grind and get ready for the fight. They gave you tons of EXP for relatively little work and also consistently dropped Waters of Life (Golden Sun's version of the Phoenix Down). I think just running back to where the final boss was netted me an extra two or three levels, easily. I also had a better strategy up my sleeve, and made short work of him the second time.

Okay, maybe not that short. It actually took a while, so I barely got through the final cut scene and was able to save before I had to rush off to work. I finished him off while hastily changing into my work clothes. This is how all the cool kids live.

Plot

The story of Golden Sun: Dark Dawn is about as complex as the originals, but this time, the plot-twists feel way more obvious. Maybe it's because I played the old ones and know their style. And there's a lot of similarities in the basic plot. Also, Dark Dawn ends with a lot of things left unresolved, and a significant cliffhanger. They are obviously intending a sequel. And I, for one, would welcome it with open arms.

Once Upon a Time in the West

2011-01-07T16:25:00.004-06:00

The Gatehouse Gazette's 16th issue was recently released, and it focused on the Weird West. Ever the fan of Westerns, I was hoping to provide a review of Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West (1968), but the time I had hoped to spend writing became engulfed by my recent spat with the stomach flu. The issue is still worth checking out, and marks a major change in the Gazette's style and appearance: the addition of colour!

At any rate, I did manage to get around to watching Once Upon a Time in the West and figured I'd provide my thoughts here while they're still relevant to what's going on over at the Gatehouse.

A question of motive

In a way, Once Upon a Time in the West story hinges a bit on mystery. The film begins with an intriguing scene: Three men hijack a train station and wait for a train to arrive. The sequence is long and drawn out, with each man dealing with his own pesky annoyances while they impatiently await the locomotive's arrival. Finally, the train comes, and brings with it a single man who is looking for a Frank. A rapid shoot-out breaks loose, and all four men fall, though the stranger managed to survive with only minor wounds.

Suddenly, we cut away to an entirely different scene, which ends with its own little mystery. The movie ultimately hinges on the question, "Why?" It doesn't take long to figure out who a lot of the characters are, but the question remains, "Why are they here? What's their reason for being involved in the story?" This is answered, slowly, for the main characters, ultimately climaxing with the nameless character, referred to by the bandit Cheyenne as "Harmonica." Everyone else has their stake in the town and it's events, but why this drifting stranger? What's his connection to Frank? Why did he come at all?

The final reveal, while perhaps not entirely surprising, is chillingly done nonetheless and gives the film a satisfying conclusion.

Clint Eastwood isn't the only man with no name

The film probably excels best in its characters, who remain interesting despite being fairly predictable for a Sergio Leone film. Think of the three Leone archetypes set up in, arguably, his best-known work: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966). The Good is a highly-skilled, nameless drifter. The Bad is a cold-hearted, ruthless murderer. The Ugly is a bandit who is a bit more comical and light-hearted than the rest, and which the audience is most likely to sympathize and identify with. Once Upon a Time in the West certainly follows this pattern:

"He not only plays.

He can shoot too." —Cheyenne

No name: Clint Eastwood isn't the only actor to play a highly-skilled, nameless drifter. After all, Toshiro Mifune arguably portrayed the prototype with this character Sanjuro from Akira Kurosawa's films Yojimbo (1961) and Sanjuro (1962). But even in Leone's cinema, Charles Bronson got his chance as the man with the harmonica. As can be expected, he's a mysterious one. For much of the film, we have little idea why he's even there, other than that he apparently came to settle something wit Frank. What, exactly, that is is not revealed until the film's final duel.

Murderer: Henry Fonda is cast against type as the villainous Frank, a hired gunman for the railroad tycoon Morton. His first appearance automatically sets up his cold-hearted nature as he massacres a defenceless family, and he provides the main conflict necessary to propel the other characters throughout the story.

The Bandit: A little less oafish and comical than Tuco in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Cheyenne is nonetheless still the most identifiable of the characters. We find out the most about his past. He also shows himself to be a rather decent human being despite his crimes. Much like The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Cheyenne and Harmonica form a loose friendship and work together against the villain.

Jill McBain, naked in a bathtub

for no discernible reason other than to have

Jill McBain naked in a bathtub.

The Woman: Once Upon a Time in the West makes one significant addition to the cast that The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly lacked: a female main character. Played by Claudia Cardinale, Jill McBain is the widow of Brett McBain, who purchased a supposedly worthless piece of land, but did so with a definitive plan. This plan serves as a major piece of motivation throughout the film. However, I didn't really like Jill as a character. She felt out of place in the Western. I don't mean to imply that women should not have a place within the Western genre, but she felt a bit sexist. As if her main reason for existence was to heave her bosom with weighted breath and require protection from the big, strong men. She is an ex-prostitute, a point that seems to be brought more to sexualize her than to give her more dimension, though it certainly does allow for one of her few lines I actually enjoyed, in which she replies to Cheyenne's claim that she deserves a better life, saying, "The last man who told me that is buried out there."And, really, she only seems to have any use in the plot as a way of revealing more of Cheyenne's human side. On her own, she's pretty much useless, and the overt attempts at sexualizing her only served to make me like the film a little less. Maybe it's because she reminded me of just how masculine and at times chauvinist the Western genre can be, and Sergio Leone's films in particular, but perhaps that's a topic for another day.

Chilling, absolutely chilling

The primary reason I wanted to see this film was because of the soundtrack. I had heard its main theme, "Spiel mir das Lied vom Tod," and it's probably my favourite Western theme. Listen to it. Go on, listen to it.

And boy, do you hear that theme a lot, along with a handful of other songs. The music in this film was just great. It sent chills down my spine. It made the movie. I honestly don't think it would be the same without this soundtrack. And once is all plays through, and you come to that final confrontation between Harmonica and Frank, it all just hits. I loved the song long before I ever saw the movie, but after seeing that finale, I will never hear it the same again. That final sequence is fantastic, and the film is worth watching through just to get to that point. And yes, the ending is on YouTube, but it's not the same without the build up. If you like Leone at all, you should know that. Just think of those final duels. The tension as you wait, and wait, and wait. When is it going to happen? When are they going to shoot? Once Upon a Time in the West is sort of like that throughout the entire film. When are we finally going to get the resolution between Harmonica and Frank? And when it happens? It's chilling. Absolutely chilling.

Black Swan

2010-12-20T15:28:00.004-06:00

It's been a little while since I've seen a film by Darren Aronofsky, as I've only really seen Pi (1998) and Requiem for a Dream (2000). Black Swan (2010) certainly follows in their footsteps in its attempt to chronicle a descent into madness, but it does so with more grace, maturity, and artistry. Perhaps I should go back and watch The Wrestler (2008), to which this film is a companion piece, as it will likely show a similar maturation of Aronofsky's style.

Internal rivalry

Synopses of the film often describe a focus on a rivalry between the ballerinas Nina (Natalie Portman) and Lily (Mila Kunis), but I don't think this is really the point of the film at all. It is quite obvious that the film's main focus is Nina herself. This is evident first and foremost by the film's subjective nature. We are always present with Nina, and often the camera literally follows her, peering over her shoulder to see what she sees. I will point out, though, that we do not get actual point-of-view shots. Never do we explicitly enter her head and see exactly what she sees or hear what she is thinking. While we are limited to her, and privy to glimpses of her psyche, we are always removed from her—able to contemplate Nina in ways that she is unable. (This is an important dynamic in the relationship between cinema and its spectators, and one that is excellently handled in Roman Polanski's Chinatown, but I will return to Polanski later.)

At any rate, the "rivalry" seems to exist more in Nina's mind than in reality, and serves more as a part of a greater focus, which is Nina's conflict against herself in her attempt to reach "perfection" as a ballet dancer. This connection occurs time and again as Nina has visions of a doppelgänger, a hallucination which will often incorporate Lily as well. Nina is technically superior but lacks the passion, the ability to "lose herself in the music" like Lily can. As the film unfolds, Lily's role takes on a symbolic position of the darker side of Nina, one that Nina must find and incorporate into herself to reach true perfection.

The Swan Queen as both the White Swan and the Black Swan

You do not have to go into this movie being completely familiar with the ballet Swan Lake, as the film explains the main conceptual elements of the story that are important to the film, but having some understanding certainly wouldn't hurt. In fact, the film could be described as a filmic take on the ballet, as there are numerous parallels. The film is most interesting in how it takes the story to different levels. On one hand, the competition between Nina and Lily for the role of Swan Queen (and thus trying to win the love for the director), could be compared to the original plot, but this reading lacks much added interest. However, if we apply the contest between the White and Black Swan to Nina's own mental struggle for perfection, the original story really does take on new life.

Polanski-esque surrealism

Not surprising for Aronofsky, there is a fair amount of unsettling imagery in this film, and a tendency to play with the boundary between reality and insanity. However, unlike Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan handles this with more subtly and maturity. The dark surrealism has been compared to Roman Polanski's earlier films, and in particular, his "Apartment" triology. It's a comparison I whole-heartedly agree with. Like the trilogy, this film focuses on in the inner psyche of one character and their descent into the darkest depths of their own mind. They all break reality in such a way that, even at the end, we are sometimes unable to sort everything out into neat categories of "reality" and "delusion." Yes, some things are obviously one or the other, but the line that divides them is blurry at best.

As another note, the film is very well shot, and makes excellent use of the handheld camera that has, for better or worse, become a norm (due in part, I'm sure, to reality TV). Often, such jittery camera work feels unnecessary, a mere repetition of a current style without any actual substance, and at first, I feared this might be the case. However, as the film progresses, I saw how the camera seemed to dance with its primary partner, Nina, carrying the ballet theme into the cinematography itself and adding credence to the idea that the film is, in itself, another take on Swan Lake.

Ultimately, the film is well-done. The acting is superb, especially from Portman, who never wanes in quality despite being consistently framed by the camera's lens. The supporting roles are quite good as well, especially Nina's mother (Barbara Hershey) and the director (Vincent Cassel). Mila Kunis did a decent job as well, though perhaps not as well as the other two. Black Swan is certainly a compelling, visceral film. It could also be an excellent change of pace if you want to go to the theatres but don't want the usual Christmas blockbuster fair.

Samurai Assassin

2010-12-08T23:28:00.003-06:00

It's no secret that I love samurai flicks (or chanbara). In some ways, it's my go-to action genre. Don't get me wrong, there are some great standard action movies out there that can be really entertaining. However, I think samurai flicks often add a certain Shakespearean drama to the mix that makes me love it that much more. Samurai films tend to be tragedies. The mood tends to be darker, with endings that are often, at best, bittersweet. Samurai Assassin (Samurai, 1965) by Kihachi Okamoto is a perfect example of this.

Historical influences

Although Samurai Assassin certainly has it's share of action, much of the film revolves around secretive conversations. The film is inspired by an actual historical event known as the Sakuradamon incident in which the daimyo Ii Naosuke was assassinated by a group of ronin outside the Sakurada Gate on March 24, 1860. As such, most of the film focuses on the efforts to plan and organize the assassination, finally culminating with the incident itself for the grand, bloody, tragic climax.

However, the film deviates from history quite a bit, though in typical chanbara fashion, it makes excuses, namely the fact that files could have been easily altered or erased. History is written by the victors, they say, and this has become a favourite route for inserting dramatic narratives into historical contexts with regards to samurai films.

As such, the primary protagonist is Niiro Tsurichiyo, played by the beloved actor Toshiro Mifune. His mother, now dead, was a prostitute and his paternity remains unknown to all but one man, a friend of the family who has vowed to keep it a secret until the proper time. All that he will say is that his father was of a high rank, and as such, samurai blood flows in Niiro's veins.

Thus, Niiro's ultimate goal is to prove himself as a samurai and become famous. Thus, when the conspirators against the daimyo request his help after seeing his skill, he jumps on the opportunity. Here is a chance to do something that will change the course of history, winning himself fame and a place in the history books, and as an orphan and poor ronin, he has little to lose.

Narrative elements

Much of the story is told through conversation, with various characters relating events. The film will then cut away to the scene, with the character acting as the narrator. This breaks up the time line of the film, as we experience some of the events out of natural order and have to piece things together from there. This gives the film some added complexity and interest.

The film has numerous twists, though most of them were fairly easy to spot. However, this never becomes a bad thing, as the film is steeped in literary irony. We as the audience ultimately know more about the truth than every individual character, Niiro included. The final tragedy stems from this irony, as we understand all that the assassination will ultimately entail while the characters are only partially aware of the consequences of their actions. I don't want to give away too much, as guessing and learning for yourself is a large part of the fun. Still, this film is a classic example of literary irony done right, and it culminates in a fantastic finale.

Visuals

The film is fairly well shot, and I love the scenes with the snow and umbrellas that provide a nice stylistic touch. The assassination is frantic but beautifully done.

However, the contrast seemed rather low, with the film never reaching the bright whites and deep blacks that really make black and white films shine. Maybe it was the DVD, which was a cheaper release than the Criterion Collection treatment so often applied to great chanbara. It could've also been the fact that I watched the DVD on Emily's computer, which I haven't calibrated the contrast on for watching black and white films. (And yes, I do calibrate my contrast. I am that big of a nerd.)

Still, the film was quite entertaining and beautifully tragic. Perhaps one of the darkest chanbara I've seen, in a very good way.

Desperate

2010-12-07T00:58:00.002-06:00

Desperate (1947) is one of the earlier films noir from Anthony Mann, back during his B movie days. If you don't know who Mann is, just know that he's a popular name with regards to the film noir genre. If you do know who Mann is, well... you probably watch a lot of films noir, so good for you!

I saw this film at Cinematheque, a group on UW–Madison's campus that shows classic films on the weekends. It was my first time there, but certainly won't be my last.

The group often specializes in film series, with this one appearing in a series devoted to Mann's films noir. I missed the first two films in the series—The Great Flamarion (1945) and Strange Impersonation (1946)—but that's okay. Mann has been quoted saying that he considers Desperate his first real film, as it was the first where he was actually afforded considerable control by the studio, rather than more or less working under another's vision.

The desperate seldom make good decisions

The film follows an ex-soldier named Steve Randall who now works in the trucking business. He takes a well-paying job without realize that he is, in fact, being hired as the getaway driver for a criminal heist. When things go wrong, Steve ends up on the wrong side of the law and the criminals who hired him. His wife's well-being threatened, he determines to get her to safety before confronting the police and the mobsters, which ultimately digs him in deeper.

The film ends up a rather enticing thriller, even if you are a little frustrated at Steve's incredible knack for finding newer and more effective ways to make matters worse for him and his darling wife, Anne. However, the film really excels in its visual presentation.

Beautifully orchestrated

The film looks amazing, and not just because we watched it on film reels instead of digital formats. In fact, Cinematheque only managed to get a 16 mm copy instead of the preferred 35 mm, much to their dismay. And while 35 mm would've surely afforded a better range of contrast, there was something about the grainy feel of 16 mm that felt right for film noir. After all, it was a B movie, and a dark, gritty one at that.

Anyway, there are numerous iconic scenes throughout the film. Perhaps my favourite occurs early on, when the mobsters set about roughing up Steve a little. Although we see the beginning of the scuffle, most if it takes place off screen. In fact, the beginning primarily aids in allowing us to see Steve thrown against a hanging light, causing it to swing wildly back and forth. The rest of the fight centers around the boss's stoic face, cast rhythmically into light and darkness by the movement of the lamp, creating a truly sinister atmosphere.

Likewise, a much later scene seems to provide a template for spaghetti Westerns decades later, as we sit in suspense, waiting for a gunshot. The scene oscillates between progressively closer shots of the character's eyes and a ticking clock. It stretches, building tension as we wait for something to happen. Will the man with the gun finally pull the trigger? Or will the would-be victim finally break the tension in an act that, instead, gives him the upper hand? Or, perhaps, something else? I won't give it away, but it's a great scene.

Where's the femme fatale?

After the film, I heard another audience member remarking that, though it was a good film, it didn't feel that "noir-y" to them. Namely, it didn't have that all important femme fatale. Well, it's true. There is no sultry seductress there to make Steve's life hell.

However, it's important to note that Desperate came out at a time when film noir was still a fairly new genre. Earlier films noir were still in the process of establishing archetypes that would be so often used in the '50s and then deconstructed, analyzed, and recontextualized in later decades. One of this big archetypes is, no doubt, the femme fatale, and while it appears as early as The Maltese Falcon (1941), it did not become as frequent in the genre until the genre began to take on darker and grittier aspects.

Desperate is definitely a film noir, but an early one. The primary focus of early films noir was the male character, who was, as is the case here, an ex-soldier. See, after WWII, a lot of American soldiers returned home feeling alienated and disillusioned. The war was one of the worst ever, and the world they returned to no longer felt like the perfect ideal they had left behind. Yes, on the surface, it seemed idyllic, but underneath there was something unsettling. Something sinister. Film noir tapped into this psychological feeling of disillusionment and unease with films about good men lead astray. Ex-soldiers, fresh from the war and tossed back into harms way once again.

Really, this fits Desperate to a t. This is where noir started, and to discredit it for not fitting the exact mold is silly, especially considering that the phrase film noir was not even known during the classic era (1941-1959) and that the directors at the time had no concept that these were genre films in the same way that a director would intentionally make a western. Genres, like art movements, are usually defined after their prime, when we have the sufficient perspective of time that we can sit back and consider what has happened.

Njom Njom Kitchen: Coconut lentils and steamed couscous

2010-12-01T18:23:00.004-06:00

Today, I updated over on Njom Njom Kitchen instead. Go check it out here.

The Last Farm

2010-11-28T00:51:00.002-06:00

I hope you'll pardon the fact that this review is a bit late, as I was busy seeing my family for Thanksgiving and was rarely at my computer. Still, I wanted to get something done, even if it went up a tad late.

The Last Farm (Síðasta bærinn, 2004) by Rúnar Rúnarsson is probably best known abroad for one of two things: 1. The movie was nominated for Best Live Action Short Film at the 2006 Academy Awards and 2. The soundtrack was composed by Kjartan Sveinsson, a member of Sigur Rós.

The second reason is, honestly, probably the main reason it was really noticed outside of Iceland. The film is certainly interesting and well-shot, but I don't see the style or narrative as being particularly innovative for Icelandic cinema. In fact, it sort of felt like the beginning and ending of Friðrik Þór Friðriksson's Children of Nature (Börn náttúrunnar 1991) mashed together into a new, somewhat darker narrative.

No reason not to watch it

That said, people should not hesitate to watch The Last Farm. In fact, you can watch it right now, for free, on YouTube. It'll only take you 17 minutes. Actually, here, watch it right now, and then I can talk about it without spoiling anything:

(Or click here and watch it in full screen HD. Probably the best way to go.)

Okay, so there you have it. A man named Hrafn prepares to leave his farm behind for good. His wife, Gróa, has died, and he prepares her a grave. And when the time comes, he buries himself with her.

The film is a somewhat bittersweet but ultimately sad story. Universally, we can identify with his pain. It is, at least at the global level, a love story. You probably watched it and thought he was killing himself out of the pain of losing his wife. This is certainly a possible motive, and one with which almost anyone can connect. However, I think in the context of Icelandic film and literature, there are other, more prominent motives and themes at work. Ones that are very iconic of Icelandic filmmaking.

The Icelandic Perspective

This film is, ultimately, a film about the clash between old customs and modern society that occurred in Iceland during the first half of the 20th century. Hrafn is an old man with old ways of doing things. He does not want to venture into the city to live with his daughter and her family or, perhaps, a retirement home. Perhaps if his wife were alive, this would be an easier change to bear. But alone, he cannot face it. All his life, he has known the farm. He is a true Icelander, with Icelandic ideals.

For many centuries, Iceland was subjugated by the Danish and lived in stark poverty. It was considered a sign of a good life's work if one did not have to be buried at another's expense. In a sense, to have enough money to your name to pay for your own burial and funeral was a sign of a life well-lived. Hrafn harkens back to these older values when he buries himself and his wife without bothering his daughter or Jón, the friendly man who delivers his mail and groceries. He is burying himself as an independent person, indebted to no one, not even in death, and this is a trait so characteristically Icelandic that Hrafn almost feels like a character from the mind of Halldór Laxness, Iceland's beloved novelist and Nobel laureate.

The tension between old and new, tradition and technology, and countryside and city is a major element of a lot of Icelandic storytelling in recent years, and in particular in Icelandic cinema. This issue lies at the heart of three of Iceland's biggest film classics—Land and Sons (Land og synir, 1980), Father's Estate (Óðal feðranna, 1980), and Children of Nature. In fact, Birgir Thor Møller argues in his essay "In and Out of Reykjavík: Framing Iceland in the Global Daze" that this conflict is at the heart of nearly all Icelandic films, and especially those during the first era of directors immediately following the "birth" of Icelandic cinema in the early 1980s.

However, unlike those classics, The Last Farm does not have much to add to this dialogue that has not already been said. Instead, it is merely rehashing old themes and motifs. In many ways, it seems best suited to a foreign audience interested in pursuing Icelandic cinema further, but not sure quite where to start. It provides an introduction to this thematic concept in a short, easy-to-follow film. The cultural references are not particularly dense, and dialogue is sparse, allowing us more time to contemplate the theme and motifs for ourselves.

It is definitely a well-done film, and the music is certainly beautiful, so kudos to Kjartan on that one. I would recommend it to all, but especially those new to Icelandic cinema. Veterans of Icelandic cinema will find little new here, though it is a well-told short narrative that is remarkable concise in encapsulating this oft-tred thematic avenue.

Arc the Lad II

2010-11-25T00:40:00.003-06:00

Update on the Arc the Lad article.

Not long after I posted my review of Arc the Lad and bemoaned the fact that we might not be seeing Arc the Lad II on PSN, Sony had to give me something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Arc the Lad II is now out on PSN, and needless to say, I already have it downloaded. Expect a review in the coming weeks, I suppose!

True Stories

2010-11-24T18:41:00.004-06:00

In a way, David Byrne's bizarre film True Stories (1986) reminded me of another '80s film centered around music: Michael Jackson's Moonwalker (1988). Now, don't get me wrong. Just like the music itself, there's a lot of difference between these two films. However, at their core, both of them are like extended music videos coupled with in-depth insights into the minds behind the music. Both Michael Jackson and David Byrne certainly have... very interesting minds, but in different ways.

Defying traditional logic, Moonwalker has a more confusing and bizarre plot, but is actually more accessible. Music probably plays a big role here. Everyone has heard of Michael Jackson and probably likes a few songs (which are most likely ones included in the movie). Talking Heads? They are completely obscure and underground, but aside from actual fans, most people know just a few songs, none of which are in this film. Probably the most popular song from the movie is "Wild Wild Life," probably best known today for being referenced in two very bad animated films from 2006 by Dreamworks and Columbia Pictures respectively. It's probably best to just take the song in its original context:

And yes, that is John Goodman in one of his earlier roles.

A musical mockumentary?

Okay, so I wouldn't really consider this film a mockmentary, but it does reference certain documentary styles at time. I also wouldn't call it a musical, but that seems to be the genre it is general grouped in to.

It's true that the movie often breaks away into a song, and in that sense it's a musical. But it doesn't have the same feel as a musical. All the songs are in context, sung by actual characters or, in the most unusual one (seen above), they are lip-syncing on stage like some sort of weird karaoke game. Likewise, out of the nine songs featured in the film, only three are performed by the entire band. For example, John Goodman actually sings one of them.

Ultimately, the music takes on a different role, some sort of spiritual outlet for the people of the small town of Virgil, Texas.

The documentary feel takes over. David Byrne, unnamed throughout the film, comes in to the town as a stranger and introduces us to its many unique inhabitants. He often provides us with various facts, some relevant and others irrelevant.

The quaintness of small-town consumerism

Much of the documentary feel takes the form of a humorous look at small-town America and the rise of consumerism. In one scene, he describes to us the significance of the shopping mall, describing it as the new city center. Likewise, he discusses metal housing, which is supposedly more prevalent in Texas than elsewhere, saying:

"Metal buildings are the dream that Modern architects had at the beginning of this century. It has finally come true, but they themselves don't realize it. That's because it doesn't take an architect to build a metal building. You just order them out of a catalogue. Comes with a bunch of guys who put it together in a couple of days, maybe a week. And there you go! You're all set to go into business! Just slap a sign out front."

Like much of the music by Talking Heads, the commentary never really becomes mean-spirited. The most farcical of the characters is Miss Rollings, a woman who was so wealthy and content with everything that she owned that she decided to live the rest of her life in bed watching television, but even she is treated gently by the camera lens. At his worst, Byrne states matter-of-factly, "Some people say, 'Freeways are the cathedrals of our time!' Not me."

Rather, the commentary is too far removed from one of the Talking Heads last songs, "(Nothing but) Flowers." The song tells the story of a time when civilization has fallen and humans have returned to a Eden-like paradise on Earth, in which a man finds himself missing microwaves, billboards, Dairy Queens and 7-Elevens. Neither the film now the movie never specifically imply that this world of consumerism and capitalism is, in itself, a bad thing. However, behind it all, we find ourselves feeling that things are somewhat empty... hallow...

We just want someone to love

The film's climax occurs when Louis Fyne (John Goodman), the character who comes closest to being the main protagonist, sings "People like us," which features the chorus, "We don't want freedom / We don't want justice / We just want someone to love."

[WARNING: This video contains spoilers, though if you stop it right after he finishes his song you should be safe.]

His character's main trait is his strong desire to find love, and not just a fling, but a wife. In his heartfelt song, he finally breaks the music free from the commercialism that surrounds the rest of the film's music (perhaps best exemplified by the overtly poppy "Love for Sale," which features a slew of pop culture references and advertisements).

Amidst the superficiality of the world in which these characters live, Louis calls for a little bit of humanity. His aim is not great. These are not huge, lofty ideals that he is calling for like freedom and justice. No, he just wants love. He wants a little bit of genuine, human interaction. An intimate connection. [Spoiler: highlight to read] Perhaps most powerfully, his song is able to stir Miss Rollings from her bed, if only long enough to call him on the telephone. In his song, she saw her own desire for human interaction, and though the two of them will no doubt spend the rest of their life together in bed, in front of a tv, it will, at the very least, be spent together.

Are you a fan?

Ultimately, the main people who are going to enjoy this movie are people who like David Byrne and the Talking Heads. That's not to say it's a bad movie or one completely inaccessible to outsiders. However, the music does figure heavily, even if most of it is performed my cast members rather than the band itself. Also, the themes are ones that will be familiar to fans of David Byrne's lyrics, and the film's quirky style will fit right in with fans of the awkward, thoughtfully poppy sound.

If you like the Talking Heads and you haven't seen this movie yet, you really should. It's quite entertaining and, really, it does give you a nice little look into the head of David Byrne. If you're not a fan of their music, it's up to you. You could really enjoy it. Or you could just think it's weird and pointless.

Arc the Lad (on PSN)

2010-11-22T23:13:00.004-06:00

I have to admit that the main reason I got Arc the Lad on PlayStation Network (PSN) is that it was mentioned in Barkley, Shut Up and Jam: Gaiden, Chapter 1 of the Hoopz Barkley SaGa. The later is, quite possibly, the best RPG to have ever been released for free. Not "limited time promotion, get it while you can" free, but "you can just download this for free" free. And in spite of (or more likely because of) how campy and ridiculous it is, it's actually really well done. The combat system is well developed and the story can be genuinely amusing. Someday, I may write a full review of it here. Until then, you should just go download it and see for yourself.

But anyway, the save points in Barkley, Shut Up and Jam: Gaiden usually go on long, rambling, somewhat facetious monologues on how much better Japanese RPGs are compared to Western ones. Arc the Lad was one of the JRPGs frequently mentioned. With a little more research, I found out that it really is well-received. It also goes for about $80 for a used copy on eBay. You might be able to find a copy for $50 on Amazon, or $30 if you don't care about having the case or manual. So when I saw it crop up on PSN as a downloadable PlayStation Classic for just $6, I decided to give it a try.

Shorter than expected

After downloading it, I started playing it pretty much immediately. As usual when I start a new game, I get in to it and for a few days, it becomes my main way of passing time in the evening. Usually, I'll clock a solid 15 to 20 hours that first week, and then it'll go to join the slew of other games I'm all slowly completing. I really should adopt a better system, but oh well. It is what it is.

At any rate, with a lot of the RPGs I play, even 20 hours is just the beginning. I tend to play RPGs pretty slowly, taking time to plan battle strategies, do side quests, and talk to most of the random NPCs. A Persona game will easily take me 100 hours of playtime to complete. However, Arc the Lad is far less involved. I beat it in just over 16 hours, and that's including the optional, incredibly long 50-level dungeon.

Check out these sweet graphics!

Now, 16 hours is by no means a short game, especially considering that it was released within the first year of PlayStation's life. In fact, the game was released in Japan before PlayStation had even reached American shores. As such, the game feels markedly like an SNES game apart from some sparse 3D animated scenes of the airship flying. These cinematics have hardly aged well, which is not surprising for that era of video games. Early 3D graphics just haven't held up like sprite work has. Thankfully, most of the game is done with 2D sprites which look good, if a little cartoonish for the game's serious tone. The backgrounds are, at times, a little drab, and the grid system is very obvious in the visual style. It's no Secret of Mana, but it's got it's own charm. And given that it's a strategy RPG, the obvious grid can be easily excused because, well, everything is done on a grid in game.

A strategy RPG without all that strategy

Arc the Lad is, technically, a strategy RPG, but at times you almost forget that that's the case. The combat system involves moving your characters around on a grid and then performing attacks. Each attack has a different range. For example, physical attacks can only be executed against enemies in squares directly touching the square your character is in. Meanwhile, most spells will give you a wider range. Furthermore, after you select the primary target of the spell, some will have a small range of squares surrounding the target that will also be hit.

However, spells will only affect enemies (or allies, as in healing spells), whether or not the range of effect might include a mix of enemies and allies. This is somewhat asymptomatic of strategy RPGs, which often involves much more careful planning, down to the smallest of details, such as how to attack an enemy without hurting yourself. Likewise, the equipment in Arc the Lad is very simple. You don't even have weapons and armor to worry about. There's just four generalized equipment slots per character that you can put any piece of equipment you want in (well, except for the few character specific ones).

You don't have to worry about building a party, as you use all the characters that you have in every fight that they are available to you. You don't have to place them on the field like most strategy RPGs. You don't have to level up skills or equipment in menus, or organize items in your inventory, or really do anything in the menus. Outside of battle there is no menu. Just story and picking where to go next. In battle, the game relies on different buttons doing different things. X attacks, Circle brings up magic, Square brings up items, Triangle is cancel, and Select is equipment. Most of the strategy resides in setting up equipment before a match and then which abilities to use. And really, none of that is too hard. The game is actually pretty damn easy. In part because you just have Arc spam Gale Flash and run around taking blows like no ones business while countering with hot steel.

One man army

Really, Arc is a one man army. Case in point. When I did the 50-level dungeon, I reached the final floor with only three characters out of my seven party members still alive, and one of those three died in the first round of action. Tosh and Arc were all that remained, and Tosh was lucky enough to paralyze the boss, making the fight incredibly easy. Having won and gotten my treasures, I began the arduous climb back to the entrance, but Tosh fell pretty soon thereafter to a nasty dragon or some other tough beast. I then proceeded to go through about 45 floors (i.e. 45 battles) with just Arc. And I never once came close to death. He's just too good.

i.e. Worthless compared to Arc.

In some ways, this is the biggest problem with Arc the Lad. Experience points are awarded based on how much a character accomplished in a fight, the biggest accomplishment being killing off enemies. Arc starts out as being a little better than everyone else, but that means he levels up a little faster because he's doing more. At first, it's not too noticeable, but as he got better, he would get more experience, making his level up, giving him more experience... It was exponential. By the end, Arc was over twice the level of my weakest party member. This means that, at the end, most fights consisted of keeping the weaker characters protected and ready to do their small part when needed and otherwise letting Arc, Tosh, and Iga run around and killing everything. And really, Tosh and Iga didn't hold a candle to Arc. They were just able to barely keep up.

So really, you just have Arc do Gale Flash and take out half the enemies on the field in one move.

Fun, but a little unrewarding

Really though, the game is still a lot of fun. It gives you that strategy RPG feel of moving units without bogging you down with tons of rules and menus. In many ways, the heart of the game is still very much that of the classic RPG style. The combat may feel a bit different, but ultimately, it's just about going through the story, one battle at a time.

Despite how melodramatic and intense the beginning was, the story is actually pretty simple. You need to save five Guardians and gain their blessings in order to save humanity. But the thing is, once you finally save that fifth Guardian and get the power to save the world, well... it ends. You never get to actually save the world! It just says, "To be continued..."

Continued when?

Honestly, I liked the game. And I was starting to feel the story and really get into it.

And then it ended.

I vaguely knew there were sequels, but I'd never seen them before, or at least I didn't think I had. I always just saw the one game labelled Arc the Lad that usually goes for at least $50. But then I remembered... that game had multiple discs...

So I did a little research. Turns out we never got the original Arc the Lad here in America like they did in Japan. We got Arc the Lad Collection, a single release that included all three games of the original trilogy. That's what usually goes for at least $50. I just never noticed the little word "Collection" at the bottom of the logo.

So really, up until this point, you couldn't buy the first game without having the full triology if you lived in America. But, perhaps in a move to garner more money, Sony decided to release them separately on PSN, with about a year in between each release. That's how they did it in Japan, and it certainly makes more sense there. And I'm not entirely complaining. All together the trilogy would probably total $20 or so on PSN. Not bad, all things considered.

But the thing is, I don't know if they're going to bring the rest of the trilogy to PSN in North America. If the first one doesn't sell well enough, they might not have any reason to bring the other ones here. It's not that it would be too large of an expense for Sony, but it would still involve some work. And if their customers don't seem interested, why bother?

My dilemma

I want to play the second one. It's supposedly the best in the series that improves on the original a lot. So what do I do? Wait and hope for a digital release? Or do I someday shell out the money for a used copy?

If I had three copies, I'd probably gloat by

posting photos on the internet as well.

Of course, this is where some suggest emulation. Although emulation is technically illegal, buying used won't give any money to the developers either. So if they aren't going to make it available for sale, who can blame you for finding another way to play it?

Still, I think I'll wait. At least until I have the money to by it used. Unless, of course, anyone out there wants to get me a generous Christmas gift. :þ Otherwise, well... my list of games I really want to see on PSN has grown a little: 1. Xenogears 2. Arc the Lad II 3. Arc the Lad III and honourable mention: Chrono Cross.

But seriously, it's a good game. And hey, if you're on PSN and download it as well, you'll be helping the cause. Or you could just end up feeling unfulfilled as the game ends abruptly, leaving you hanging and at a loss... staring at a page on Amazon and whispering, "Maybe someday..."

UPDATE: I was wrong. Arc the Lad II on PSN.

The Muppets Take Manhattan / Muppets from Space

2010-11-19T17:46:00.003-06:00

Over the last two days, I've watched two different Muppet films—The Muppets Take Manhattan (1984, dir. Frank Oz) and Muppets from Space (2004, dir. Tim Hill). Why these two? Well, primarily because they are the only two on Netflix Instant Streaming, probably because they happen to be the only two Muppet films not owned by Disney, who is often rather protective with their products (sort of like Apple Records with the Beatles music). They also happen to be landmark films for the Muppets, as The Muppets Take Manhattan was the last feature film from the franchise to be made while Jim Henson was still alive and was the first film to be directed solely by Frank Oz, while Muppets From Space was the last major Muppets product to feature Frank Oz as puppeteer for Miss Piggy, Fozzie Bear, and others.

My desire to watch some films by the Muppets started with a YouTube clip of a Muppets parody of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." Seeing all the characters again kick started a sort of nostalgia, and an interesting one at that.

Obviously, my strongest feelings of nostalgia are tied to my big favourites from my childhood. I loved Star Wars, Pokémon, and Chrono Cross. These games have so many memories attached to them. I know much of them inside and out. Though my knowledge of Pokémon has certainly begun to atrophy a little, I can still name all 151 of the originals as well as lot of the second generation.

But the Muppets are a bit different. It's more of a feeling of déjà vu. Sitting down to watch the films, I don't actively know what's going to happen to next, but once it happens, it all feels oddly familiar.

The Muppets Take Manhattan

I have to admit, this one was a bit outside my time. The film was made in 1984, so I'm certain that whenever I did happen to see it, I was very young. I didn't get as much of a déjà vu feeling, but I did at times. Certain gags must've stuck in my brain more than others.

The film is, essentially, a musical about trying to get a musical on Broadway. I may have said this before, but I'll say it again: Why are so many children's movies also musicals? I suppose that the change between talking and singing may help to hold a child's attention better. Still, as I've been watching more kid's movies lately (not sure why, guess I just must be on a nostalgia kick), it's really begun to sink in how often they involve musical numbers. It also seems like the older they are, the more likely it'll be a musical, while newer ones tend to be straight dialogue (for example, I can't actually think of a Pixar musical).

I've gotten off topic, so I might as well extend this tangent a little further. I said that The Muppets Take Manhattan is a kid's movie, but I'm not sure that's entirely correct. Perhaps it's better to say "family-friendly." Yes, it is entirely appropriate for kids, but there's a lot of stuff in there for adults too. Honestly, I think this is what makes for a better film. Often, especially when it comes to television, there are shows and films that are geared specifically towards children. While this isn't necessarily a bad thing in-and-of-itself, I think it does have some major defects in the long run. For one, the plots are usually incredibly simplified with very direct and obvious meanings and morals, but I don't think this is really giving kids enough credit. Kids can actually be pretty smart, and while they may not be able to explain the message of, say, Pixar's Up the same way an adult could, I don't think that means that they didn't still get something out of it. A good film will have layers of meaning and understandings, as even a five-year-old and ten-year-old are going to have different levels of comprehension. Appealing to a wider audiences not only means that the product becomes more interesting and complex, but that, well... you have more people to sell it to, and economics is, for better or worse, an integral part of cinematic arts.

The other problem, though, is that without something there to entertain the parents as well, parents are less likely to watch with the kids. My parents have always said they thought Sesame Street was one of the best children's shows for this very reason. They could sit down and watch it with us and be entertained as well. Imagine sitting down and watching Teletubbies. You'd go mad. So what happens? Well, parents let the TV be the babysitter. I don't entirely know if this is a bad thing or not, but it doesn't quite feel right. Not that parents can't occasionally use some distraction for their kids to give them a chance to do some work in peace, but I don't think this should be the standard way of doing things, and even if parents aren't always there watching, it's still nice when the film or television show is actively encouraging it through its writing.

Muppets from Space

At any rate, this film was certainly more of a nostalgia bomb for me. The biggest scene that sticks out in my mind is when the aliens sing, "Celebration" by Kool & the Gang. I believe I saw this film in theatres or shortly after it came to VHS and I really enjoyed it. And, well, that's probably the first time I ever heard that song. So in some ways, that song has always reminded me of the Muppets, even if just vaguely. That and Al Gore.

Between the two, I felt like The Muppets Take Manhattan had, perhaps, a bit more creative writing. At least it felt fresher. But there were a lot of good moments in Muppets from Space as well. For one, my friends and I all enjoyed Bobo the bear in his role as Rentro, who is generally pushed around at the government agency he works at and is fairly timid despite being, well, a big brown bear.

Both films are a lot of fun, and really got me in the mood for the new Muppets film coming out next year. Too bad it's not going to be released until around Christmas, so I'll have to wait over a year.

Let the Right One In

2010-11-17T22:07:00.002-06:00

And so, finally, I got to see Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in, 2008), though through no thanks to Netflix.The film was indeed less of a vampire film and more of a coming-of-age story, focusing heavily on the relationship between the 12-year-old boy Oskar and the seemingly 12-year-old girl Eli who is, in fact, a vampire.

Growing older vs. forever young

In some ways, it almost seemed like the vampire piece was irrelevant, but that's not entirely true. It is important to the narrative and adds complexity to Oskar and Eli's relationship. However, much of Oskar's development is more directly tied to their friendship (and early stages of courtship) than to the fact that Eli is a vampire. Interestingly, Eli is a bit more static. Yes, she changes in regards to how open she is with Oskar, but she never really matures in the way that Oskar does. As she says to Oskar, "I'm 12 years old. I've been 12 years old for a long time."

The main character of the story is most certainly Oskar, and in the first scenes of the film, I actually thought that he was the vampire. The film begins with him in his room, stabbing his knife at the air and growling, "Squeal! Squeal like a pig!" He is somewhat pale and awkward, with longer hair. He is also the subject to some rather nasty bullying from other kids in his class, which he usually writes to his superiors as accidents on the playground or the like.

The darkness within

So why is Eli a vampire? Sure, it adds a little to the relationship, but not too much in and of itself. However, in some ways, it provides a visual, long-running metaphor for the darker sides of humanity. During their time together, Eli encourages Oskar to stand up for himself against the bullies. The moment finally occurs during a field trip to go skating on an icy pond. The bullies threaten to push Oskar into the cold water, but he tells them to stay back or he'll use a pole he found. They try to call his bluff, and the leader (Conny) steps forward, only to get severely whacked on the ear, causing lasting damage.

Despite Conny's shouts and the blood coursing from the side of his head, the scene becomes oddly tranquil and liberating. Oskar stands with his head held high, free from their tyranny. Of course, the animosity has done anything but subsided, and increasing hostilities aren't fair off.

Where do we go from here [SPOILERS]

The film's ending is fairly open and somewhat uneasy. The violence escalates when Conny's older brother Jimmy stages revenge against Oskar, forcing him to hold his breath under water in the pool for three minutes or else lose his eye in exchange for Conny's ear. We go beneath the water's surface with Oskar, and after some tense silence, we hear commotion faintly above before Jimmy's dessicated head and arm drop into the pool. Eli has come to save Oskar, and we cut away to a train. Oskar sits with a large wooden box in which Eli hides to protect her from the sunlight. The two of them are escaping to a new life together. Ultimately, it would seem that the dark side has been embraced, perhaps without any consequences.

However, we may remember Håkan, the older man who protected and killed for Eli at the beginning of the film, and ultimately gave his life for her. Is this where Oskar is heading? Is he the next Håkan? And is that a good or a bad thing? A lot of it is left up to the viewer to decide. Like a good horror film, it enters a certain level of murky morality and taboo ethics that would be far, far harder to handle in a film set directly in reality. Horror films allow us to step back from more taboo subjects and deal with them in a safer light. After all, it's a vampire film. And can you really take those that seriously? Certainly, the film is a good conversation starter, and for that reason it's hard to write about at length in this monologue-esque format. So if anyone else out there has seen this film and would like to talk to me about it, hit me up. Of course, we can do some in comments, or if you know my personally, we can do it elsewhere. Perhaps over a few beers?

The White Ribbon

2010-11-12T17:57:00.002-06:00

Last night, I finally got around to popping in the Netflix disc of The White Ribbon (Der weiße Band: eine deutsche Kindergeschichte, 2009) by Michael Haneke. The film won Cannes Film Festival's prestigious Palme d'Or, the FIPRESCI Grand Prix, and the Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film, among others. The film was also nominated for the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, though the award was instead given to the Argentinian The Secret in Their Eyes (El secreto de sus ojos, 2009) by Juan Jóse Campanella.

Though I certainly intend to see The Secret in Their Eyes, hopefully before the 83rd Academy Awards. However, given my interest in Germany and some of my previous work on films related to World War II, The White Ribbon was first on my list of "must-sees."

Atmosphere

More so than many other films, I think that The White Ribbon is very much about creating an atmosphere. There are certainly discernible characters with their own stories and personalities, but we never really fully see them or understand their true feelings and motives. In some ways, I think this is the entire point of the film, but I will address that a little later. Ostensibly, there is a main character—the nameless schoolteacher who narrates the story. However, although he is present throughout the film, we actually get to know him more through his voice-over narration in which he is considerably older.

Essentially, the film is an incompletely story pieced together from his various memories of his short tenure as teacher in a small German Protestant town called Eichwald. His own story is rather simple, revolving around his courtship of a young woman named Eva. However, throughout it's course, he also recounts numerous strange and violent instances that occurred within the town. For example, the film begins with a recounting of how the village doctor was serious injured when his horse tripped over a thin wire strung between two trees in his garden.

Cold, distant, and oppressive

These words sum up the entire feel of the film pretty well. The cinematography by Christian Berger in particular really adds to this

In one scene, a perhaps more "mundane" act of violence in which two children are caned as punishment for acting out, we do not actually seen the event. The entire scene is shot from the hallway. First, the kids leave their bedroom and walk down a narrow hallway and into a door, closing it behind them. The camera sits in still silence, gazing down the hallway anxiously. The door opens and the son exits, walks to another door and enters briefly, then emerges with the switch that will be used to whip him. He walks back down the hallway and closes the door. More silence. More anticipation. Then, suddenly, but faint and muffled from the distance, we hear a yelp of pain from behind the closed door. One or two more, and the film breaks away to a new scene.

The cameras relative stillness during this scene gives off a sense of emotional detachment that becomes one of the primary focal points of the film. It's all very oppressive and weighs on the viewer throughout the film's two and a half hour span

Fragments

Another notable element of this scene is that it is cut short. Likewise, when the doctor falls from his horse, we get fragmented images of what is happening rather than one cohesive sequence. Some of the goriest parts are omitted.

The film is in fragments, as if important details have been snipped from the film strips and left on the cutting room floor. For one, a lot of the most "disturbing" elements are left hidden, only described. We never see the doctor's collarbone sticking out of his flesh. We don't see the raw and bleeding flesh of the boy's caned buttocks. Of course, this is certainly saves on special effects costs, but it also adds to the oppressive and distant nature. And also alludes to the fact that the film will never really have a clean resolution. At the very end, though we may have a better idea who is doing these acts of seemingly random violence, we never get a definitive answer. No one is ever brought to justice. And many plotlines remain completely open and unexplained.

Ultimately, I think the point of this film is the idea that we can never really understand violence and why people do it.

The danger

The film is best taken as a look at humanity in general and some of the darker sides of human societal as a whole. This is apparently the director's intent as well, as he said in an interview that the film is about "the origin of every type of terrorism, be it of political or religious nature."

However, I think there could be some danger here in that the film itself is set just before World War I and the narrator comments that he feels the events he will describe are somehow related to or a part of what would happen later. The film also ends with the beginning of the Great War. As such, it may be easy for people to take the stance that the film is not about humanity in general but the German people in particular. This stance would echo the sentiment of Daniel Goldhagen, whose books imply that the Germans were a "demonic people." As I discuss in my essay on Passenger (Pasażerka, 1963), such a stance is counter-productive in an attempt to address and resolve the lasting emotional effects of the Holocaust.

As such, the film is a very interesting narrative. It is one that prompts a lot of thought and emotion, and while generally depressing and dismal in its outlook on humanity, does provide a few cases of hope in the schoolteacher, Eva, and one innocent young boy. However, I would warn against people drawing too narrow a parallel between this film and the Holocaust. Certainly, it can be seen as an attempt to understand why something so horrific could have occurred, but I think it takes a more broad, humanist approach rather than a very specific and focused look at German society, despite being entirely set in Germany shortly before the First World War.

The Inugami Clan

2010-11-10T20:08:00.003-06:00

I recently finished the book The Inugami Clan by Seishi Yokomizo and translated by Yumiko Yamazaki. I acquired the book on a whim at a major book sale at Snowbound Books in Marquette and eventually it became a "bathroom book" for me. So yes, I read most of this book in the bathroom. I finished it in my good old leather reading chair, though, because I had to get to the ending.

See, Seishi Yokomizo is arguably Japan's biggest mystery novelist, and The Inugami Clan is the best-selling book in his Detective Kindaichi series. Now I'll admit that I don't know much about the mystery genre when it comes to books. In fact, the only genre that could be called a part of the mystery genre that I'm actually rather familiar with is film noir, though in my youth I did read a few Sherlock Holmes books.

The novel was fairly light reading, which is something I rarely do except, well, as a bathroom book. In that regard, it certainly did well.

Characters

Despite the fact that Detective Kindaichi is ostensibly the main character of the entire series, I didn't find him particularly engaging. He sort of showed up to get the story rolling and then, until the end, largely went along for the ride. Occasionally, he would chime in with something interesting that he would happen to notice, but for the most part, he didn't really do much. That is, until the end, when he goes on to explain everything.

The other characters never really fully developed as I would sometimes expect, but the author was often good at conveying their small expressions and gestures that would give you small little glimpses at their inner thoughts and motives. A lot of the book becomes a mind game between the reader and these small glimpses. What does it mean that this one person remained silent? What someone else they flash a stern look like that? This all leads up to, what I assume, is the main point of most mystery novels.

The mystery

The book managed to weave a very in depth and convoluted mystery. Admittedly, before the big reveal, I had figured out who had done it, and even a basic idea as to why, but I hadn't pieced together all of the motive, and certainly not all the details of how they went about committing all the murders.

Indeed, perhaps the most amazing part of the book is just how everything fits together to form the final solution. The weaving together of all the seemingly disconnected events in a comprehensible whole at the very end was, perhaps, the most entertaining part of the entire novel. Hence why it moved out of the bathroom and into the living room for the final 60 pages or so.

Final conclusion

If your a big fan of the mystery genre, you might really want to check this book out. Otherwise, it was a pretty light read but a lot of fun at the end. So maybe if you need to get your head out of all those heavy textbooks and just aren't ready to tackle James Joyce for your "pleasure read," this could be a quick and interesting read.

But, ultimately, I just don't think mystery is quite my genre. The end of the book was, ultimately, unrewarding for me. I didn't really feel the characters had grown too much, only that, perhaps, we had come to see some more clearly. If the thrill of the mystery is what you're after, sure. I generally like a character-centric narrative, though. But I'm sure that's pretty obvious by now to anyone who regularly reads this blog. It's just a little unfortunate that my first book review wasn't a book where I'd have a bit more to say.

Let the Right Media In

2010-11-08T18:23:00.004-06:00

Yesterday, I was all set to finally settle down and watch Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in, 2008) on Netflix Instant Streaming. The film has been well-received critically and highly-recommended to me by people whose tastes in cinema I trust. If the look of those foreign words in the parentheses up there didn't clue you in, the film is Nordic in origin (specifically Swedish), so it is most certainly relevant to my area of focus. It's also been one of the largest commercial successes from that region in recent years, and is even slated to undergo an American remake, so it's certainly a landmark film to see for any student of Nordic national cinema.

A fiend appears in my home, uninvited

The film is, supposedly, a vampire/horror/coming-of-age story. I say "supposedly" because, well, I never got to actually see it. No, wait, I'll be more accurate. I could see it, and even hear it, but I didn't know what anyone was saying! It seems that, in transferring the film to Instant Streaming, Netflix seriously messed something up. Most of the subtitles fell into the letterbox (those black bars above and below the screen when you watch a film in widescreen). This is fairly common, except that usually they appear in front of the black bars and hover there nicely, telling you what people are saying. In this case, the black bars took on the nature of black holes from which no light could escape. If the subtitles happened to be lucky enough to appear within the boundaries of the film's frame, it was able to escape certain death, but this was all too infrequent an occurrence. I may not be describing this the best, so I went ahead and created some visual aids:

Fig 1. What it's supposed to look like.

Fig 2. What I got. (Lovingly recreated in Photoshop.)

As an interesting note, I went into Instant Streaming on my Mac to try to get a screenshot of what I was talking about and, as you can clearly see in Fig 1, it actually worked like it was supposed to. However, as I was trying to watch this with my darling wife on my fancy PlayStation 3 and HDTV, I got what you see in Fig 2 instead. Up until this point, I thought it was a problem with just Netflix, but apparently it's something about Netflix on PS3. So obviously there are some kinks to work out in the system.

However, in the course of this, I happened to check out the film's audio and subtitle options. Peculiarly, I had two audio options: "English (stereo)" and "English (5.1 Dolby surround)." The film does have an English dub on its US DVD release, but neither of these audio options featured the dub. They were both in Swedish. But okay, if there is only one available language, it's frequently registered as "English" because that's what most DVD players will default to. It's confusing, but not completely ludicrous. It helps with the coding for some programs, so whatever. Weird naming practice, but there's a reason.

However, oddly enough, the only subtitle option (which was, of course, selected) was "None." This is weird, at least for how DVDs work. However, streaming seems to often only give you one audio/subtitle set-up that you cannot change. But then there's no option to change it at all. They don't give you that option at all, liek some little tease hanging out in your menu to make you think, "Yes! Maybe!" Perhaps Netflix put this in because they hope to include more in the future? I hope so. I'd like to be able to watch the original Japanese language version of Gurren Lagann sometime as well without having to borrow someone's DVDs or shell out the money for my own copies.

Digital media

All of this got me thinking more about streaming. It's a topic I've discussed in my social circles, but never here. On one hand, I've often spoken against streaming and even moreso against digital downloads. On the other hand, I use Netflix Instant Streaming as my source of television. I have some (though not many) albums that I've only bought mp3 versions of. I even own some digital copies of video games, and not just "download-only" releases like Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. I own a handful of PSone classics through download, though largely because buying hard copies would be a lot harder and cost a lot more.

Still, my biggest gripe has to do with a little unintentional lie in that previous sentence. I don't "own" those games. I don't actually own Suikoden, Wild Arms, and Grandia. I own leases that grant me access to those games. And, theoretically, those leases can be terminated by Sony. Now, I don't expect Sony to do so any time soon. For one, it would be bad business. Still, that copy of Chrono Cross I have sitting on my game shelf? They have no right to take that from me. They may own the copyright on the data on that disc, but that disc is mine. I can sell it if I really wanted to (though I never will). I can lend it to my friend, which I've done before. I can't lend Suikoden to anyone. And I most certainly can't sell it.

This whole "leasing" concept becomes even more prominent with streaming. I paid a one-time fee for Suikoden, but Netflix only continues for as long as I pay more monthly fee. What's more, I can watch episodes of The IT Crowd as many times as I want... as long as they decide to have it up on streaming. If, one day, they decide to take it down, then that's it. I can't watch it any more.

Why I still love it

So it's no secret that I have certain issues and insecurities when it comes to digital media, and yet I still love Netflix Instant Streaming. Why? Am I being a hypocrite? I don't think so.

See, I don't think anyone sees Netflix as owning anything. It's about rental, which is essentially a lease. The idea is that there is this huge collection of titles that you have access to, as long as you are a member. I'm not paying for Let the Right One In in the same way you could "buy" a movie on PlayStation Network to store on your PS3 hard drive. Or the way I "bought" Suikoden. This isn't a single product being purchased in the form of a currently ill-defined media. It's a lease to an enormous database of products that I can "borrow" by streaming them.

That's why I don't really mind streaming. Not to the level I dislike digital copies of products. Both are essentially leases, but one seems more upfront about it. The other has the feel of ownership, but without having the same legal rights. Hopefully, that will change, but as we all know, laws are horrible at keeping up with technology.

Of course, as my experience yesterday proved, streaming is still in need of some tweaking and perfecting. Even if the subtitle issue only happens on PS3, it's still a problem that needs sorting out. That shouldn't happen.

Will streaming kill the DVD?

There is another topic of discussion pertaining to streaming, and that is that streaming will kill BluRay before BluRay can kill DVD. This is a weird one. Are people really going to sacrifice ownership to such a degree? Certainly Netflix and its Instant Streaming has not been kind on DVD and BluRay sales. Still, I don't think people are just going to accept the all-digital world wholeheartedly. At least not yet. I know I'm not ready, and I don't think I ever will be. I want that physicality. I want to hold it in my hands and say, "This is mine." I want it on my shelf, so I can sit there and notice, "Wow, I have a lot of films by Akira Kurosawa. Seriously, look at them. They're completely engulfing that shelf."

And, so far, digital media has failed to deliver on that entire world of "extras" that the DVD gave to the movie lovers of the world. Where's the commentaries? The alternate audio tracks and subtitles? The production galleries? The "Making of" documentary? These are things you still have to get a physical copy for, at least for the most part. And yeah, the guy who, years ago, was just going to go rent the VHS at Family Video instead of seeing it in theatres, he's going to sit at home now and stream it on his PS3 or Xbox 360. But those who wanted to own it, well... a lot of them are still going to want that. Some may be content with a digital copy, but not everyone. And I don't think that's going to change any time soon.

So despite what so many people are saying, I don't really think physical copies will ever truly disappear. However, I do see them gearing themselves more and more to the "collector" and not just the general populace. That may or may not mean we collectors will have to pay a higher price for our desire for "ownership." However, it may also mean that quality will be very high as well. Who knows? Only time will tell.

Dead Leaves

2010-09-25T02:36:00.003-05:00

What is Dead Leaves (2004)?

Fun. Pure, unadulterated fun. I mean, really, that's the best way I can explain it. At first I thought "insanity," but that doesn't quite work. I mean, the animation is pretty insane, but surprisingly, the plot was fairly coherent.

But yeah, it was fun. It was a lot of fun.

What's it about?

Okay, so two people wake up naked in the middle of a field and don't remember anything about who they are, where they came from, or how they got there. One is a girl with a circle marking around her eye, who takes the name Pandy (as in panda). The other is a guy with a TV set for a head who ends up going by Retro.

The two decide they need some clothes and supplies, so they go on a crime spree to steal themselves some necessities. Then they figure, hey, why not a car? The police show up and a crazy high-speed shoot-out ensues. Despite their overall success, they end up crashing and finally arrested, and they are sent to the prison on the moon. That prison is called Dead Leaves.

They end up breaking out of their cell and freeing the other prisoners through the power of their rocking hot bout of sex. You heard me. It was, apparently, that awesome. The prisoners aid them as they try to escape, including such characters as a man with a giant drill for a penis. Remember where I said it's surprisingly coherent? That's assuming you just kinda go with the flow for some of these details.

Anyway, they end up discovering the secret nature of the prison and start to get an idea of who they are and such. Really, though, the whole point of it seems to be...

Badass animation

To say that Dead Leaves is "well-animated" is somewhat awkward. The animation isn't smooth, as the frame rate is sometimes visible and there's a lot of repetition of frames and such. However, it doesn't feel like it's because the animators were just lazy or something. It's all part of the style, which is just completely over-the-top. There is a ton of stylization going on here. Just watch for yourself.

The film pretty much goes full throttle for its entire 55 minute run. The plot is full of all sorts of nonsense and weirdness, but it never goes all intense cerebral like Neon Genesis Evangelion or even FLCL. The basic plot is pretty easy to follow, and the rest is more just there for the fun of it—just to be silly and over-the-top.

Strangely, it kind of reminded me of Dan Kim's Paper Eleven, though far more light-hearted. However, both are very stylized in their own ways and while the plots originally seem like they are going to be very confusing and obtuse, by the end, it's all fairly simple and understandable.

Not really sure what else to say about it. I'm not going to try and dissect the meaning or something because I don't think that's really the point. The point is to have fun.

Anyway, this made me excited for Redline (2010) all over again, which looks like it's gonna have the same vibe to it, but is coming from the same people who made Taste of Tea (2004), which is one of my favourite films.

As a note, I watched this on Netflix Instant Streaming, so if you've got Netflix and like crazy awesome animation, be sure to check it out. Sadly, the only option is the English dub, but as I said earlier, dubs tend to be pretty solid these days and tend to work fine for animation. I really liked it, though, so I'll probably check out the DVD sometime (maybe even purchase) and watch the original Japanese.

ASSSSCAT!

2010-09-22T01:33:00.003-05:00

I finally got around to watching Upright Citizens Brigade: ASSSSCAT! (2007) tonight, and I figured I would share a few of my thoughts after viewing it.

Upright Citizens Brigade

The comedy troupe known as the Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB) is probably best known for their TV show of the same name, though readers of this blog may also recall me briefly mentioning it with regards to Dog Bites Man. I was first introduced to the group through the television show as well, ranking it just after Mr. Show in my list of favourite sketch comedy shows. (For those who are curious, Kids in the Hall and Monty Python vie with each other for third place.)

However, the actual original origins of the troupe was as an improv group at Chicago's ImprovOlympic. Although ASSSSCAT! was done after the television show, it harkens back to the old days in many ways. A live, improv performance from the group was recorded and released as an hour-long TV special. The cast includes the four members from the show (Matt Besser, Amy Poehler, Ian Roberts, and Matt Walsh) joined by Horatio Sanz (part of the original improv troupe line-up) and Chad Carter, Sean Conroy, and Andrew Daly.

How it works

The resulting special is less a "film" than simply a recording of a live show. The purpose is, essentially, to give viewers at home a chance to see how ASSSSCAT! works without having to visit Los Angeles or New York.

The basic format goes like this: Members in the audience will shout out suggestions. These can be anything. The troupe will then have a celebrity guest act as "monologist," which basically means that they tell a story based on the suggested topic. The troupe then plays off ideas from the story to do improv sketches. After a while, they have the monologist tell a different story that is in some way related to their first one (though not necessarily the original audience suggestion), and they troupe will elaborate on those ideas again.

The difficulty in discussing improv

Ultimately, in the end, I'm somewhat at an impasse here. There's no real plot or characters to discuss. I could run through what the topics where and highlights from some of the sketches, but you might as just watch it yourself, then. Part of the fun of improv is not knowing what they're going to go with an idea.

I guess, really, I can only talk about how much I enjoyed it in a more general sense. Obviously, things are somewhat hit and miss with improv. However, UCB seemed to be pretty good at it, and when an idea just wasn't working and they could tell the audience wasn't really feeling it, they'd quickly switch out and start on a new trend. When they had something that was working, they would stick to it and flesh out the humour.

Successful improv comedy hinges on two things. First is, obviously, creativity. There needs to be a mind at work that will take a concept and draw from it something very unexpected. If you've worked at all in the retail business, you're probably aware that a lot of people have the same "spontaneous" idea for a joke given a situation. I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Hey, this is missing a price tag. Does that mean it's free? Hyuk hyuk hyuk!" I think a lot of people, if presented with, say, a banana, would pick it up and use it as a phone. Or if they're feeling lewd, hold it in front of their nether regions. UCB doesn't really use props, but I'm just illustrating something. Good comedy often involves surprise. It often makes us look at a situation in a new light, in a way we've never thought of before.

However, for improv troupes to work, they also need to be able to mesh together. There needs to be a similar sense of humour, and the group has to be able to read what the other members are getting at and follow it or change it in new and interesting ways. They also need to be able to see when their fellow members need them to step in to help, by either providing a new character in the situation or by switching out the scene altogether.

I would say that UCB is fairly competent in this regard, and the result is certainly entertaining. Again, it lulls at a few parts and at others it sores majestically, and I think that's just sort of part of how improv works.

All and all, ASSSSCAT! provides and interesting look at the roots of Upright Citizens Brigade and into the creative minds of its members. It's worth checking out if you're into improv or sketch comedy, as is the television series.

Fievel Goes West

2010-09-20T02:10:00.003-05:00

While I'm talking about kid's movies and nostalgia, I might as well talk about An American Tail: Fievel Goes West (1991), as I recently watched it on VHS while resting up. By the way, though not entirely an excuse, that's why I missed too days of posting. I was pretty miserable and didn't really know what to write about or what to say.

But I did watch Fievel Goes West while curled up under a blanket, and it certainly brought back its share of memories. I really liked this film as a kid, I think primarily for the cornball antics of the cowardly cat Tiger. Plus, what little boy doesn't love a film about a little kid who goes on to help save the day?

Animation

Considering that this film first came out when I was 3, and that I haven't watched it much since VHS went out of fashion, I wasn't really aware of things like animation techniques like I am now. As such, I never noticed how much rotoscoping occurs in this film.

For those who don't know, rotoscoping is an animation technique in which movement is recorded on film, and then the animators trace it. It was developed fairly early in the world of animation due to the fact that it greatly helped in the creation of realistic movement. For a great example of rotoscoping at work, see the video for Aha's "Take on Me."

Typically, rotoscoping is primarily used for character movement, but this is not the case in Fievel Goes West. Now, maybe a few scenes involved rotoscoped characters, but not to be significantly noticeable. No, it instead focused on rotoscoping the backgrounds. It seems like an odd choice, as backgrounds are generally fairly easy to "make-up," but it makes sense when you realize how mobile the "camera" is in this film.

While backgrounds may be fairly easy to draw when a camera is relatively stationary, the difficulty would likely increase when the camera is frequently spinning, soaring through the air, and generally moving all about the scene. Plus, it also allows for very realistic and ornate backgrounds, which is important when you realize that this film is, essentially, a Western for kids. What kind of Western would it be if it didn't have a beautiful, sprawling landscape?

The animation is honestly pretty good. Not necessarily my favourite, but the quality is pretty high and the mobility of the camera definitely adds a special cinematic flare to the whole film.

Voice acting

This is probably what I noticed most when watching this film after so many years. I didn't recognize these voices back then, but there were some awesome talents working on this film. For one, the "lawdog" sheriff Wylie Burp is voiced by Jimmy Stewart. And it's pretty obvious that it's Jimmy Stewart if you know what he sounds like. The characteristic stutter and everything is there. And it works exceedingly well.

But the other big surprise for me was John Cleese as the villainous Cat R. Waul. The voice is pretty much straight out of Monty Python, and while it worked, I could never quite get over the whole, "It's John Cleese!" thing. It was just so obviously him. Plus, I can't think of him anymore without thinking of these commercials. His voice isn't quite evil, but it fits in this the sort of high-class style of the character, as well of the comedic moments where the film reminds the viewer that, in the grand scheme of things, he's just a cat.

The one other weird "I know that voice!" character was the spider cohort of Cat, who was voiced by none other than Jon Lovitz. However, this one was less obvious, as it wasn't his normal acting voice. It was a lot stranger than usual, but if you've watched as much of The Critic as I have, parts of it will strike you as familiar. Still, I had to look this one up to make sure.

All and all, the voices are pretty good, though Fievel's seemed to fluctuate a bit in pitch or something. Sometimes, it just sounded higher pitched than others. But maybe my ill and feverish brain was just mishearing things. I didn't like Tiger this time through as much as I used to. His character was very, very silly, which I can see being appealing to me as a little kid, but I was now more amused by some of the more subdued humour from Wylie and Cat.

And again... Jimmy Stewart. Seriously. Apparently, this was his last film appearance. That's crazy to me.

Nostalgia

Although I never had any specific feelings of nostalgia watching this film, it all felt strangely familiar, but in that déjà vu sort of way. You know, where you can't really say what's going to happen next but when it does happen, you're like, "Oh man! I remember this now!"

I definitely found myself appreciating it on a different level now. Before, I think I liked Tiger's silly antics and the full story, while I was now more interested in the voice acting and animation. Oh, and the music. I mean, really, this scene was just amazing:

That's right. The Blues Brothers. Do you really need anything else to convince you of how awesome this film is?

Anyway, watching it also made me realize... I should try and watch the original An American Tail (1986) sometime.

Toy Story 3

2010-09-17T01:06:00.004-05:00

Almost three months after its release, I finally saw Toy Story 3 (2010), in the theatre, no less. Gotta love those discount movie theatres.

Pixar does things right

As I said in my previous Disney post, I'm not entirely against 3D animation, but I am finding it boring as time goes by. Of course, I also tend to prefer 2D sprite work in video games whenever possible too. Part of it is just a personal preference.

That said, Pixar does it well. Before the film, there was a preview for Alpha and Omega, a film that both Emily and I agreed pretty much looks like student work. Especially compared to Pixar. Pixar's films look good (though I'll still probably prefer the look of, say, Fantasia).

However, the fact that they're on the cutting edge of computer animation is not what makes me like Pixar. No, it's because they are very good at...

Storytelling

Pixar knows how to tell a good story. Probably my favourite has been Up (2009). That first sequence showing Carl and Ellie's relationship is absolutely amazing.

As an aside, the Pixar short that proceeded Toy Story 3 was called Day and Night and likewise showcased their talent for storytelling. The majority of the story is conveyed visually, and though fairly simple, still has its own little nuances. Ultimately, two entities (one Day and one Night) meet and begin to fight over their differences, but gradually come to learn that each has their own unique things to offer which are new and exciting experiences for the other. As an additional aside, the animation in this was amazing, and I think I enjoyed it visually more than the feature. However, Toy Story 3's plot definitely affected me more.

For those of us who remember the original

Honestly, Toy Story 3 feels more like it was made for my generation than for younger kids. The basic premise is that Andy has grown old and no longer plays with his toys. As he is packing for college, he has to decide what to do, and though he decides to bring Woody with him to college, he plans on putting the rest in the attic. However, in a bit of a mishap, the rest of the toys eventually wind up in a daycare center, where they are abused by snot-nosed little toddlers who choose to throw them, paint on them, etc. Woody sets out to rescue them and bring them back to Andy.

While the story would certainly be entertaining for all ages, I think those of us who grew up watching the original Toy Story (1995) are going to feel its themes the most poignantly. And while theoretically it seems to be about kids just entering college, I think it's even more poignant after you've been away from home a little longer and had more time to reconnect with your childhood interests. I think most high schoolers and thus college freshman are still a little "too big" to admit that they, say, really loved Pokémon when they were kids. But the more time you spend in college, the more you remember that we all loved Pokémon. And before you know it, you've got Pokémon Red in your Gameboy and a VHS of old episodes on the TV and you're swapping stories with friends like you used to swap cards.

And when you first heard about Toy Story 3, well, it filled you with all sorts of feelings of nostalgia. And that's what this movie is really tapping into.

Not too big a man to cry

Towards the film's end, things are looking bleak for the toys and they all come together in support, and it obviously tugs at your heart strings a little. But given my experience with film, I could see it as largely Hollywood heavy-handedness and knew everything would be alright.

But at the very end, well, I don't want to ruin it, but it did get me. I'll admit it. I cried. Not because it was played up as this super sad event. In fact, it was kind of happy. But it was a kind of bittersweet nostalgic feeling I could really connect with. I'm an adult now. I'm getting married. And while I still try to have fun and keep the kid alive a little bit, the fact is, part of childhood is gone for good. Have you ever tried to sit down and really entertain yourself with your old toys like you used to? It's so hard now. You used to be able to imagine these huge, elaborate stories and everything. And, I mean, you can still make up a story now and everything, but your heart's not in it like it used to be. The whole magic of it is largely gone.

I still have my favourite stuffed bunny from when I was a little kid. I took him everywhere. Now, he's just a rag. His name is Buhbuh. I loved him. And in some way, I still do. But it's not the same. He's not alive anymore. Not like he used to be. He's no longer my best friend. When I'm feeling down, he doesn't make things better. Now, he's just a reminder for me of those times long past.

And these were all the things running through my head as I watched the finale. Really, I think, the film is about that moment where you realize you're no longer a kid and you feel like you've lost something.

Passing it on

But at the same time, it gives you a little ray of hope. After all, in the theatre are kids, just as young as we were when we first saw Toy Story. And as we sit there remembering our childhood, they're just beginning theirs, or are currently in the thick of it. And right now, this movie is everything to them that the original once was for us. Woody and Buzz are theirs now.

Why I don't have television

2010-09-15T23:25:00.002-05:00

Disclaimer: I don't think TV is evil. I don't think people who watch TV are idiots and I don't look down on people for having cable. This is just why, personally, I don't have cable nor do I really miss it.

When I moved, I decided to get my internet through Charter. Throughout the entire process, they kept wondering why I only wanted internet and now one of their package deals. They accept that I don't need a phone line because I have a cell phone. But no television? It baffles them.

I got a phone call from Charter in which they were explicitly trying to just selling me cable. The guy was absolutely insistent.

"Why don't you want cable?"

"I don't really like it."

"Well, that's okay. I'm not big on TV myself. But don't you watch anything?"

"I have Netflix. I watch movies and select series I like."

"Oh, yeah. Netflix is great. But they don't always have the most recent stuff and they don't have the biggest selection of TV shows. Plus, they don't have the news. But our Basic TV would only cost $10 more and you'd get—"

"But I really don't want any television. Most of it is stupid, commercials irritate me, and it just eats productivity. I really don't want any television."

"Oh, yeah, I know. Okay... So let's get you started with the Basic—"

"No, let's not. I don't want any television. Are you even listening to what I'm saying. I. Don't. Want. T. V. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir. Well, thanks for choosing Charter and I hope you have a great day!"

Okay, so one, this was a horrible salesman who made me hate Charter just a little bit more, but whatever, that's not why I'm writing this post. I'm writing this post to discuss why, personally, I don't want television.

The news

Really simple, here. I am already paying for the internet. I can get the news on there. And in general, I like it more. I can read it. I can choose sources that aren't as sensational as television news outlets.

But again, the biggest reason: I can get news without having to pay.

Getting the newest episodes

So maybe I miss this a little. As I'm currently at my parents house, I'm sitting here watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report and yeah, it's kinda nice. I also wouldn't mind watching the new Futurama when they come out. However, a lot of this stuff you can find online, and the rest, well... I can wait to see it later.

To be honest, I don't really mind being out of the loop on Lost or whatever the hot new show is. And I certainly don't miss...

The commercials

This is probably the biggest thing that I absolutely don't miss about TV, as I am currently experiencing. Commercials are largely irritating. This is compounded by the fact that for the last four years, I've pretty much been watching DVDs. I haven't had TV at all for over two years. I've gotten used to a slower paced, narrative visual medium. Things follow more or less logically, and fast editing is basically only used for scenes that are supposed to be anxious, exciting, or generally intense. So when I see commercials, all I can think of, essentially, the drug-taking scenes in Requiem for a Dream. It puts me on edge. Having this happen randomly in the middle of a narrative is disturbing, especially when it keeps happening.

Plus, as we all know, commercials just don't make sense. It's sort of like a Mitch Hedberg joke:

A friend gave me a drug for attention deficit disorder, because he's afflicted. But I'm not. So what happened to me is I suddenly had an extra-long attention span. People would tell me a story, and it would end, and I'd get all mad. "Come on, man! There has to be more to that story!"

Seriously, though. I'm trying to figure out what the hell the commercial is all about and what the story is and, of course, it's already on to the next commercial that makes even less sense.

Okay, so maybe I'm not freaking out and having a bad trip whenever commercials come on. I'm able to deal. But I do notice myself getting anxious. Yeah, I'd get used to it again. But I don't want to get used to it.

A waste of time

This is the biggest reason, because ultimately, I don't hate TV (just commercials). In fact, I find it somewhat addictive.

And that's the thing. I have a mini library of books, a huge collection of DVDs, Netflix instant streaming, a bunch of video games I have yet to beat, and the goddamn internet. Do I really need another thing to help me procrastinate? Really?

So yeah, I probably would've finished this post earlier, but I was watching Good Eats on the Food Network at my parent's house. Just sayin.

The Rescuers & The Princess and the Frog

2010-09-14T23:05:00.003-05:00

I watched two Disney movies recently.

The Rescuers (1977)

Many would consider The Rescuers to be one of the last "classic" Disney films from the original animators, and it certainly shows. The whole style and feel of it is pretty classic. It also adds a certain sketchiness to the quality of the lines, insisted on by the head animators, which really sets it apart from the very clean, digital lines we often see today.

Overall, the animation is pretty solid, and the story is fairly entertaining. Of course, the film also seemed a bit dated in its plot. Essentially, two mice named Bernard and Bianca set about trying to save a kidnapped orphan by the name of Penny. Of course, the female mouse, Bianca, is rarely good for much other than falling out into tumultuous conditions or getting herself into other dangerous situations which the far more practical and level-headed Bernard must get her out of. Of course, in the course of things, they fall in love and decide to continue trying to save children, but the ultimate nature of the relationship is sort of this "Hey, Bernard! Let's go on an adventure!" "Well, gee, Miss Bianca. That sure sounds s-s-swell!" "Whoops, I fell out of the boat!" "Oh no! Never fear, Miss Bianca! I'll save you!"

I mean, she still manages to come in handy, for example, using the smell of her perfume to lure crocodiles into a cage, but in general she'd be pretty helpless without Bernard.

Despite being made in 1977, the film feels a bit '50s in its style and mood. It was great to see something with such a classic feel to it, and it really reminded me how much I miss hand-drawn animation. The story was rather cute and touching, if a little heavy-handed at times (it's Disney, what do you expect?), but yeah. The whole gender role thing felt the most dated in a bad way. Still, it was fun.

The Princess and the Frog (2009)

It was nice to see Disney going back to the 2D stuff after its long love affair with 3D that still isn't over. It's not that I hate 3D, and I certinly don't hate Pixar. They tell wonderful stories and they do 3D animation exceedingly well. However, it's just that everyone else wants to be Pixar. So all we see is 3D stuff everywhere, and it's starting to get a little too bland and uninteresting. So whenever someone comes along and does something well in 2D, it's bound to get more notice. Especially when it's Disney, a company that previously swore off all 2D animation (and sadly fired all lot of great animators in the process).

Anyway, despite the reference to Steamboat Willie in the new Disney animation logo, this is, not surprisingly, a lot closer to Mulan than The Rescuers in its look and feel. The animation is good, but obviously computer-heavy. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but again... As I was watching The Rescuers, it felt so refreshing to see all those hand-drawn cells again. But I'm not going to complain. It was 2D Disney again. And it was good. And this means maybe more 2D Disney to mix it up with Pixar a little more again. That's great.

But just as the animation style was updated so was the idea of the role of women. I mean, yeah, I'm sure some feminist could still go to town on this movie because Tiana and Naveen are all perfect and beautiful and the ultimate message is sort of, "Yeah, it's okay to have a job and devote yourself to that, but you'd be happy if you found a guy." Feminists would take this and run. "Oh, so a woman can only really be happy if she has a husband, huh?"

Really, though, cut it some slack. I think a better way to look at is, "All the financial success in the world won't mean anything if you don't have someone you love to share it with." In a culture that is rampant with consumerism *coughcoughDisneycough*, it's nice to hear them say, "Eh, money isn't everything. It's people that really matter." It's also kind of humorous considering who's saying it, but whatever.

Compared to Biana, Tiana is hard-wroking and dependent. Throughout the course of the film, it's usually Prince Naveen who's falling out into tumultuous conditions or getting himself into other dangerous situations which the far more practical and level-headed Tiana must get him out of.

Of course, everything ends super happy and everyone get just what their pure little hearts desired. What else did I expect from Disney? But really, if I made one change, it would've been for it to be a little less perfect, I guess. I mean, sure Tiana finally gets her own restaurant, but instead of it being the lavish place she had dreamed off, it's some little place, but with lots of regulars visiting in and people lined up outside. It doesn't end in Tiana and Naveen singing and dancing and just shooting the breeze while waiters and everyone busy around them, but just the two of them working the kitchen and the counter. They aren't adorned in all sorts of pretty clothes and such, but work clothes. But they're happy because they're together, and because they're doing what they love.

But eh. You gotta take the small victories when they come. It was still good, and its heart was in the right place.

A Short Guide to Subtitles

2010-09-13T01:08:00.002-05:00

When you begin to explore foreign cinema, you're eventually going to have to deal with subtitles. It's an inevitable part of the process. What I've prepared here are a few guidelines for the world of subtitles.

Why do people use subtitles?

Many people prefer dubs (where the vocal track is redone in English) over subtitles, so why use subtitles at all when that is an option? Well, for one, subtitles are more prevalent than dubs. Not everything has been dubbed in to English, as it is a more involved and pricey process. Thus, while you may be able to get away with dubs on more popular foreign works, the more you pursue these films, the less that will become a valid option.

But aside from that, the primary reason that many people such as myself prefer subtitles is that it keeps the work in its original form. The newly recorded voices may not accurately reduplicate the same tones and emotions expressed by the original actor. Furthermore, the language itself may add character and mood to the film that can be altered when a new language is introduced. For example, German, French and English all have very different cadences.

Likewise, dubs can create odd situations or changes from the original. For example, in the Japanese version of an episode of Excel Saga in which Excel visits America, she speaks in broken and misguided English to the Americans, which is the source of a great deal of humour. However, as in the English dub she is already speaking English, she instead uses broken Spanish, which makes significantly less sense. Enough so to ruin some of the comedic potential.

Likewise, Japanese characters with the Kansai dialect are frequently rendered into a Southern drawl, which doesn't carry the full cultural implications of the original dialect. In fact, it pretty much just fits the "country folk" stereotype, it does not fit the idea of "comedian," nor does it match the original cadence. The result is that it sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. The cowboy-hat-wearing Osakan businessman in Ghost in the Shell may work okay with a Southern drawl, but it does not suit the spacey Ayumu "Osaka" Kasuga nearly as well.

Animation vs. Film

As you may have noticed, I've mentioned a lot of anime. This is because it is primarily in anime where the subs vs. dubs debate rages the most, while fans of foreign films tend to be fairly accepting of subtitles from the beginning.

I think part of this might have to do with the fact that it is much more obvious when film is dubbed. Everyone makes jokes about the dubs in old Godzilla movies or kung fu movies for a reason. It's so painfully obvious that it's been dubbed because the photographic method captures all the intricacies of the mouth that occur during speech and even the best voice actors will not be able to sync the dub perfectly. It's impossible.

Animation, on the other hand, simplifies the mouth movements a lot, and we are more willing to accept that the new words fit as well. After all, the animation and the voice were created independently, while that is film were (usually) created at the same time.

Don't fear dubs

That said, do not always insist against dubs. While I think it is good practice to watch things in subtitles on your own if you are comfortable with them, dubs are still a valid way of watching foreign works. For one, dubs can provide an interesting new look at a favourite film or series. In some ways, it is just interesting seeing how something you enjoy was reinterpreted. Many dubs, especially more recently, are very, very well executed. A lot of work went in to them, at its worth it just to see what was accomplished.

Furthermore, not everyone is comfortable with subtitles. Sometimes, you may want to show a work you really like to a friend, but if they aren't a fan of subtitles and they aren't comfortable reading them, they arenðt going to fully enjoy the experience. You want them to be able to enjoy it too, and maybe that means turning on the subs.

See, not everyone likes to read while they watch a film or a show. And it's not just because they are lazy. Reading subtitles involves additional skills beyond just reading. For one, you must be able to read, at the very least, at the same speed that the language is spoken. This isn't usually too hard in and of itself, but if you can only read at the same pace as the text is displayed, you are just speanding your entire time reading a script.

Subtitles are enjoyable after you have become accustomed to them. You have to be able to not just read them, but be able to read them while simultaneously taking in the visuals. At a certain point, you are able to sort of read the subtitles out of your peripheral while you watch the film normally. It takes time to get to this point.

How to become comfortable with subtitles

Of course, some people may be interested in using subtitles over dubs, but they just aren't as comfortable with them yet. The only way you'll get better, though, is if you practice. But it can be frustrating to do so when you aren't really proficient in the skill yet. I know, I had to go through that too. To a large degree, I just suffered through it at first and I got better that way, but since then, I've been able to think of some tricks to help make it more bearable.

If you have a foreign film or show that you really like and have watched the English dub enough time that you generally know most of the plot and lines and so forth, try watching it subtitled. You're going to be a lot more familiar with what's going on and the gist of what people are saying, and you'll have already seen the visuals many times, so you won't feel like you're missing out as much. This will cut down on frustration.

Another technique, which I heard from an old coworker of mine, is to turn on closed captioning when you're watching English television. He watched TV this way when he worked as a guard on duty, and so he had to have the volume very low. Using closed captions helped him follow the dialogue better when it was barely audible. However, even with louder volume, it'll still get you used to reading while you watch, but whenever you get tired of frustrated with always reading, you can stop for a little bit and just watch.

At any rate, I hope this has been somewhat useful.