Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter Thompson

Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter Thompson (Alex Gibney, 2008) [7]

Gibney has created a thorough and at times captivating documentary on Thompson but for someone like myself, who has read and knows just about everything about the man, there isn't much in this film that is new. That doesn't mean that it isn't an enjoyable film, because it is. Gibney's greatest strength is that the film examines Thompson and the cultural persona he created as much as Thompson the author. We get Thompson's story through a variety of talking heads, from family to close friends to fellow authors. The film makes the case that Thompson was a immensely talented author, and his work on the Hell's Angels, the '72 Presidential campaign, and other events of the early 70s was the basis for the New Journalism movement as well as some of the most culturally significant writing of the era. Johnny Depp provides narration of Thompson's writing throughout at moments that really bring out the best elements in his writing. The excerpts from Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas and Fear & Loathing on the Campaign Trail show that beyond his Gonzo tendencies, Thompson could tap into something deeper, a keen understanding of how America operated and the path it was going to go down. While praising Thompson's work, the film also shows how that Dr. Gonzo personality overtook Thompson and led to a period of sub par writing and a characterization of the man that overshadowed everything else. Gibney pulls no strings in stating that the last twenty-five years of Thompson's life was him struggling with the persona his over indulgences had created. It's all well-done and entertaining but for any serious Thompson fan, it's nothing new. That Gibney creates parallels from Thompson's writing on Nixon to the current administration isn't surprising, with his prescient September 11th piece from espn.com showing his understanding of the situation. That the film ends with the interviewees stating how Thompson is needed now more than ever tells all you really need to know about the man.

The Grand

The Grand (Zak Penn, 2008) [4]

Penn's mockumentary of the world of high stakes poker suffers from a few problems. One, a cast full of funny people improving doesn't necessarily mean a funny movie. Two, the film suffers from having come two or three years too late to catch the poker boom. Third and perhaps most, the film suffers from the Christopher Guest effect; if every film of this type is going to be compared to Guest's films, it clearly pales in comparison. Fair or not, The Grand isn't consistent enough in its humor to really be considered much more than a Guest knockoff. The plot centers around Jack Faro (Woody Harrleson), just out of rehab, as he enters The Grand Championship of Poker in order to save his grandfather's casino to a egotistical developer (Michael McKean doing a crummy Trump variation). That serves as a springboard to be able to introduce a parade of characters, all interpretations of the various personalities televised poker has presented over the years. The problem here is that for those who have never watched poker, they'll wonder why some of these people act the way they do and those who know will find some of the characters to be weak imitations of real people who aren't that interesting to begin with. Faro is the only one who doesn't fall into a ready-made persona but he's the character who gets too few of the laughs. All the others have one or two funny moments but it's only Chris Parnell as a socially stunted math genius and Richard Kind playing the clueless amateur that bring any consistent laughs out of the film, mostly because they stretch the limits of their characters. David Cross and Cheryl Hines, on the other hand, fail a bit because they play characters like the real people at these events who are unlikable in the first place. And not that funny. The poker action is without much tension and too staged to advance the plot to really make it believable. If this film has just gone out there and become surreal and bizarre (as some brief instances of Werner Herzog's character bring out), it may have not turned into such a bore.

My Blueberry Nights

My Blueberry Nights (Wong Kar Wai, 2008) [5]

Wong's English language debut isn't horrible but it feels so slight and unfocused that I just can't seem to recommend it. It feels too flatly acted, with a few exceptions, and without real focus of emotion that turns it into a disappointment of sorts. Seeing how I've been a huge fan of Wong's last two efforts, the film doesn't appear to be in the same category. Norah Jones plays Elizabeth, a restless young woman going through a troubling break-up that gives her opportunities to meet a variety of characters. Some reviews have stated that Jones can't act but she fills her role fine. Her character isn't really meant to be the tent pole of the film; she is more there to be acted upon by the other characters, rather than to carry the film on her own personality. All this leads to the greater problem is that none of these other characters, other than David Strathairn's performance, which grows on me even after, fall noticeably flat in any resonance. Strathairn's lovelorn drunk is the type of character that Jones's Lizzy yearns to be and the only one capable of capturing what Wong seems to want to get across through this story. Jude Law, Natalie Portman, and Rachel Weisz are mainly forgettable in their performances. The plot itself follows the kind of interpretation of a cinematic America that can be found in Wim Wenders. I frankly prefer Wenders's version. While it may be a cinematic reality, Wong's film doesn't have enough of a grounding in something I can find in reality to make me care. In something like Paris, Texas, there is the payoff scene in the theatre. There's is nothing of that magnitude in My Blueberry Nights to make it that memorable.

In the Year of the Pig

In the Year of the Pig (Emile de Antonio, 1968) [7]

While a bit dry in spots, this film is a well researched and effective documentary. It certainly has a political agenda but is always level-headed and not shriekingly partisan as some political documentaries of today. Instead of focusing on the American combat mission, the film takes a more historical overview of Vietnam. The emphasis is on how the Vietnamese has been a constant struggle for Independence and how Ho Chi Minh is a national figure second to none in that nation. All of it leads to the central idea that the Vietnam war is (or was) an unwinnable war. de Antonio uses a wealth of different footage, most of it found footage, to get his message across and constructs a film effective in emphasizing its political message. Having seen this film years ago in a found footage class taught by experimental filmmaker Martin Arnold, it was definitely one of the more interesting pieces seen in a class focused mostly on experimental film. It doesn't quite hold up in esteem since that first viewing, mostly because of its tedious history lesson tone at times. Even with its detriments, it works and has clear parallels to the situation in Iraq and the documentaries born out of that conflict.

Funny Games Double Feature

Funny Games (Michael Haneke, 1997) [7]
This films should be considered as a deconstructive instrument more than a film. The plot and characterization are not elaborate, they're just there to serve as the vehicle for Haneke's ideas. Addressing the casual association violence has with violence, Funny Games takes the viewer into completely uncomfortable territory by using violence that is much more psychologically jarring that a standard blow-em-up action picture. It is incredibly unsettling and it achieves its objective not just through its violence but through the Brechtian tactics of breaking down the fourth wall. The killers take time to address the viewer and address the notion of reality and the film world, of the viewers' allegiances, and what is and should be acceptable in film violence.
To back up a bit, the plot of the film focuses on a bourgeoisie Austrian family heading out to their lake house for a vacation. Once there, two young men meet them and play out violent, sadistic acts on the family. These are not in the grotesque vein of the Saw and Hostel-style torture porn but a much more psychological violence that to me is much more effective. It raises the question of why those horror films and their explicit violence are nothing noteworthy but the relatively tame acts of these two in this film is much more horrifying in its own way. That is one of the themes Haneke is addressing here, pushing boundaries and tolerance. The film is meant solely to provoke a reaction, one of disgust that most violence in other American cinema no longer does. It does this by having the characters address the viewer, letting them know that they have an interest in these characters' well-being. The killers are also smart enough to realize that you as the viewer are going to side with the family, and hope they can somehow escape the situation. That what makes the film effective but what also makes it practically unlikable. You want these characters to escape but at the same time, it's in the back of your mind that it's practically impossible. Haneke gives the characters and the viewer glimmers of hope but they eventually collapse.
Haneke's mastery of the shots in the film make it effective without actually showing that much explicit violence. It's moments like the extended shot of the living room after one violent episode that do much more in getting inside the mind than any act of violence. The film is a series of brutal moments after the next but that's its aim and it exceeds despite any reservations about story or content.

Funny Games (Michael Haneke, 2008) [6]
This is essentially a shot by shot remake of the original, only this time starring more American friendly names like Naomi Watts and Tim Roth. It works about the same as the original but it begs the question why remake it in the first place. In fact, I prefer the more cold, reserved European aesthetics of the original in its impact. Maybe since Haneke is addressing the American fascination with film violence, making the film a little bit more palatable for an American audience makes sense. That doesn't explain why a lot of critical reviews barely mention the original as if this was some brand new film and the original can be discounted. It doesn't make any sense.

Rififi

Rififi (Jules Dassin, 1955) [9]

Rififi has been called the template for all other heist films that have come after it and for good reason. There are few scenes as memorable in film as the jewel heist scene in this film, taking up about a quarter of the film and with absolutely no dialogue. It's completely impressive and expertly done but it isn't the only reason this is a great film. All the elements of this film have come to define characteristics of the heist noir, from the characters to the eventual demise of what appeared to be a perfect plan. Tony (played with the right amount of stoic reserve by Jean Servais) has just recently been released from prison and is looking for his girlfriend on the outside. After finding out she has hooked up with shady gangster characters, Tony gets a group together for one last big score. It's a motley assortment of hoods and safe crackers that has become commonplace in film of its type today. It's a testament to Rififi that these type of characters have become that iconic. They pull off the robbery only to have one of the group succumb to the charms of a woman and let everything out into the open. The gangsters get wind and confront Tony to hand over the jewels. Once again, everything here plot wise has been done before but at the time, it was something new and unique. These elements, when done right, always create a great noir storyline filled with suspense. The ending gets a little bit bogged down in familial melodrama but it's not enough to dull the rest of the film. Dassin handles the material deftly. While the heist sequence is the showcase, there are many other directorial touches that are quite nice. Dassin has always had a way of utilizing his settings to maximum effect, whether it be London in Night and the City or New York in The Naked City. He treats Paris the same way here, paying particular attention to the neighborhoods of the action and making them feel like a character on its own. The sequence at the end, where Tony is racing against his ultimate demise is fantastic filmmaking, the camera racing through the streets of Paris. It's a great technical achievement but there's so much more to it. Dassin gives what could have been a cold, calculating noir some real life, an appreciation for characters and setting, and creating a lasting thriller.

Mr. Freedom

Mr. Freedom (William Klein, 1969) [5]

Klein's scathing satire of America's jingoistic bullying has never been readily available for viewing until this recent release as part of Criterion's Eclipse series. While the film get some points for being brutally harsh, the whole never quite adds up to make a great film. I've always held the belief that satire is either really good or really bad. While not completely either, Mr. Freedom misses its mark. The story revolves around a quasi super hero named Mr. Freedom, part of Freedom, Inc., a company whose goal appears to be spreading America's political and economic message around the world. Mr. Freedom has been dispatched to France, where Marxist and Chinese elements are undermining freedom and the like. Mr. Freedom arrives and bullies his way around attempting to get his way. When the French people reject him, Mr. Freedom has no choice but to blow the shit out of the country. It all plays out a little too ham-handed for me to really agree with it, but it fits into the kind of comic book mind the film has. The character of Mr. Freedom is a stock comic character, a la Captain America but Klein gets under the jingoistic facade to expose a scary underbelly. Mr. Freedom is an overt racist, and the beginning of the film shows him crashing into a black family's apartment and shooting one of them, thinking they're looters. It's incredibly harsh and while it may work to a certain degree, it really overshadows any of the more clever satire in the film. Those moments have less to do with Mr. Freedom himself but the skewering of the consumerist culture America has exported throughout the world. The best moment is when Mr. Freedom arrives in France and heads to the U.S. Embassy, which is essentially a supermarket. If there was a bit more of that, I may have liked it more. The other real flaw which just takes me out of the film is that the dialogue is horrible synced at times; it shouldn't make a difference and Klein was still a novice filmmaker at the time, but come on, you can do better than that.

Lust, Caution

Lust, Caution (Ang Lee, 2007) [5]

While visually arresting at times and precisely crafted by Lee, there are just too many moments in Lust, Caution that miss the correct mark that makes it comes across as stuffy and dull at too many moments. The word I keep thinking of to describe this film is hermetic, as in sealed. Everything is nice to look at, thanks to Rodrigo Prieto's cinematography, but it all feel cased in like a museum piece. As such, it's too hard for the viewer to really immerse themselves in the world of the film and all too often stuck admiring the film and not getting much out of it. It's a testament to Lee's abilities as a director to be able to at least craft a splendid looking film even though the story and characters don't really help him out much. The crux of the film is centered on the relationship between Mr. Yee (Tony Leung), the cautious government official and Wong (a good but not great Wei Tang), a secret agent for the Chinese resistance. The problem is the film takes way too long to get to the biggest moments of their relationship and the plot. Once they get there, the emotional timbre of the film feels off, again due to the hermetic nature of the film. The rigid look and setting of the film allow for no effective emotions to really get in between the two and when the film attempts to really make its moments, they feel fairly lackluster. Even someone with a good grasp on filmmaking as Ang Lee cannot get enough out of the characters. That idea hinges on the sexual nature of the relationship and of course, the sex scenes, which for me feel neither that necessary or erotic. The film just doesn't have enough of a variety of things: emotion, eroticism, historical exposition to make it work no matter how good it looks.

The Merchant of the Four Seasons

The Merchant of the Four Seasons (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1972) [8]

Fassbinder's dramas of the human condition are almost always steeped in Sirkian melodrama and yet, he somehow manages to not make them feel cheesy but vital in some way. In this film, which follows the travails of Hans (Hans Hirschmuller), a fruit vendor as he deals with his overbearing middle class family, honorable yet straying wife, and a past that he just can't leave behind. With this film, as well as some others, notable Fear Eats the Soul, Fassbinder shows such precision with getting the right emotional details out of his performers. A simple story such as this works because Fassbinder has such a compassion for a character such as Hans but is not afraid to show him suffering and, ultimately, fail in a pursuit of a happy life. The film really hinges on a theme found in Sirk, the idea of forbidden love, but it is never the focus of the film. Fassbinder is more concerned with showing the ramifications of the idea. Hans clearly cares for his wife, but even she realizes by the end that his heart has always belonged to another women. His middle-class family, who constantly criticize him in his career decisions, only help drain all the dreams that Hans once had. It certainly comes as no surprise that Hans should meet a less than ideal end after one devastating blow after another. It's too easy to call the film an overwhelming downer because even though it may be, it also directly addresses the hopes and dreams of the human condition. And while it may not meet a certain conclusion, the film makes you feel for Hans, which is all you can ask for.

George Carlin

George Carlin died Sunday. He has been one of the most important and one of my favorite comedians for as long as I've been into stand-up comedy. This video has been on some other sites the past few days, notably Deadspin, but it is perhaps my favorite Carlin bit:

Harlan County, U.S.A.

Harlan County, U.S.A. (Barbara Kopple, 1976) [10]

Harlan County, U.S.A. is unequivocally one of the best documentaries I have ever seen, and in this current age of egotistical partisanism in political documentaries, it's stands so much above in terms of intelligence and telling its story. That isn't meant to say the film has no political agenda, Kopple and company clearly side with the miners and their struggle but she constructs a film without hyperventilating bluster by realizing these are real people and treating them and their story with respect and a supreme understanding of their plight.

What makes the film is that story is highly compelling. In 1973, workers at a coal mine in Harlan County, Kentucky elected to join the United Mine Workers of America. The company that owned the mine refused to sign the union contract and as a result, the miners went on strike. This led to a series of picket lines, scabs, intimidation of the striking miners by company hired "gun thugs", and all the eroding passion and determination that a year plus strike can have on the miners and their families. Kopple recognizes right away the it's the people that propel this narrative and her sympathy with the miners and their families allow her insight into meetings, the picket lines themselves, and the true feelings of the families being effected. This obvious sympathy made her a target by the strikebreakers, as the famous scene of Basil Collins, the head strikebreaker, pointing a gun at Kopple and her camera crew and their subsequent beating at the hands of some scabs. The film shows numerous moments like this between the striking miners and the scabs, with the threat of violence ready to break out at any moment. The film smartly goes these skirmishes and its best moments are the ones capturing behind the scenes moments. The film has been notable for capturing the role of women in the strike, the wives, daughters, and mothers of the miners who recognize that a better future for their men will also mean improvements for their lives, as exemplified by the fact that the company owned housing they occupy has no indoor plumbing and running water. These women are the backbone of the film, showing as much courage and emotion as the men but also becoming a perfect embodiment of the women's lib movement that was exploding in the mid 70s. It is they who give the film emotion and empathy, the true soul of the film. When the moment comes when a striking mine worker is killed by a scab, it shows this. It's one of the most emotionally potent moments I have ever seen in cinema.

All the praise the film has gotten over the years is worth it. It's not a film about political ideology, even though it has a clear political point of view. The history of the union struggle in the mines as well as the fantastic union songs clearly show Kopple's allegiance. The film goes beyond a political argument into a social one, showing people struggling to find some decency and not be exploited. That should not be a disputed point.

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days

I'm missing Bonnaroo for the first time since 2002 so I'm going to fill my disappointment with as many films as possible this weekend.

4 Weeks, 3 Months, and 2 Days (Christian Mungiu, 2008) [9]

Romanian cinema is certainly on a roll of late in terms of art film circles. 4m3W2D is another gritty, dark social drama, a la The Death of Mr. Lazerescu, and it's a supremely made, taut film that deserves much of the praise it's been given. It's not really a film about abortion however; in fact, there are some lapses in logic in the central story that would be glaring if the film wasn't so well made. It's more of a parable of living in the dying days of communist rule in Romania, full of paranoia and the grim struggle that was life. Mungiu focuses on two roommates, one named Gabita (Laura Vasiliu) that needs an abortion, which is illegal and her roomate, Otilia (Anamaria Marinca), who helps her with all the logistical details. Where Mungiu twists it a bit is that he spends his focus on Otilia, who ends up doing all the hard work for Gabita, who has neither thought out or has the will to do anything for herself. It's this focus on Otilia that keeps the film out of a hot-button argument about abortion and instead makes it more of a parable of living under a certain regime and time. The film follows Otilia as she helps rectify Gabita's bone-headed decisions, from meeting the smarmy and arrogant abortionist (Vlad Ivanov) to finding a hotel room after Gabita screws up her first attempt. The film clearly sympathizes with Otilia as she sacrifices herself for her friend. Mungiu expertly executes the tension surrounding the scenario without cheapening the mood of the film. The best example of this is when Otilia has to leave Gabita alone to visit her boyfriend and her parents. Those scenes speak most about the film and who Otilia is, not the issue of abortion itself. The scene of a long take of Otilia at the dinner table, washed in a sea of people who she has nothing in common with is a powerful moment of cinema, even if I'm not sure how it fits exactly. Mungiu deftly creates emotions out of the picture, the empathy we feel for the women, creating moments of tension when there really is no threat, and most of all, creating a look and feel of the film that shows the dreary, beaten down existence under the crumbling Ceausescu regime. It's such of film of assured craftsmanship and emotional connection that it's no wonder it has gotten the praise it deserves.

Turistas

Turistas (John Stockwell, 2006) [2]
Granted I haven’t seen many of the films of this so-called ‘torture porn’ genre or the likes of the American rubes abroad genre a la Hostel, but I can get the general idea. Usually, I have no inclination of seeing anything of this sort, but it’s strange what boredom and borderline depression will cause you to watch on a given morning.

Turistas is one of the most insulting films I’ve ever seen. I don’t care to hear arguments that this isn’t supposed to be a representation of reality or that it’s just another form of exploitation cinema; that doesn’t excuse it from being a stupid film dealing in stupid stereotypes. A group of Euro/American tourists (you know, from the civilized countries) end up stranded in the Brazilian jungle after their bus crashes. Instead of being good citizens, they head to the nearest beach and act like drunken jackasses, only to be robbed blind by the locals. They (no one in this group is worth pointing out individually) end up following one local to a home only to be unwitting participants to a mad doctor harvesting their organs. The doctor’s rationale for this is that he’s taking revenge on these pampered First-Worlders and giving something to the Third World. I’m not one of these America First conservatives so I don’t have an issue with the ideas present in this situation. I’m insulted because the whole premise is incredibly stereotypical and completely lacks creativity. By creating a horror film that preys on the fears of Americans, that if they go overseas, there are a bunch of supposedly unscrupulous locals ready to take advantage of you, whether it be ripping you off for shitty souvenirs or by drugging you and stealing your organs, is insulting to both the audience and the “others” they’re taking advantage of for a story. It makes no difference that this is an exaggeration of supposed urban legends or not meant to be taken seriously; it’s insulting to me as a filmgoer in general. This may be the snob in me speaking, but I expect something better in cinema. If you’re going to use insipid Third World stereotypes to set up a lame story where the only thing saving you is Olivia Wilde in a bikini, then it’s not worth it.

Performance

Performance (Donald Cammell & Nicolas Roeg, 1970) [7]

This film has been called the best representation of the Swinging London of the late 60s but for me, that far from the most interesting part of it. Sure, it has all the sex, drugs, and music that would become the general overview of that time and yet, the story is fairly flat and uninteresting. James Fox plays Chas, a sadistic mob goon who needs to find a hideaway after killing a guy. He overhears a conversation which leads him to rent a room in a mansion occupied by a reclusive rock star named Turner, played by Mick Jagger and two young ladies (Anita Pallenberg and Michelle Breton). Once immersed in this new, strange world, Chas succumbs to Turner's mind games and the line between identities and reality get blurred. It really makes no use trying to unearth the story as it is never really there. Fox is acceptable in his role and Jagger really does nothing more than act the way people think of Mick Jagger. There's nudity, sex, and drugs; they're there but have none of the shocking nature they must have originally had. What makes the film important is Roeg's portion of the film, the photography and a result of that, the structure. It's amazing to me that a major Hollywood studio ever released this because it's one of the most experimental narrative films I've ever seen handled by an American studio. Warner Brothers whole rationale must have been solely based on the fact that Jagger was going to be in it. Cammell's basic plot plays with ideas of identity and the whole notion of performance, which he got from writings by Borges and Artaud. These ideas are stretching the boundaries of what, at least in film terms, would be acceptable and anticipated. That the ending sees a combination of Tuner and Chas's identities into one being is not surprising. By pushing some radical ideas around, the film itself can take a very loose, radical approach. There are some images in this that are challenging to decipher yet they make the film work because the film never settles down. Performance is a film that led to an opening of structure in British cinema. I feel it has a lot in common with another film out of Britain near the same time, Dyn Amo by Stephen Dwoskin. That film takes its ideas of identity, sex, and what Freud called 'the gaze' to a much more extreme area but it has the same mentality as this film. I happen to like films that are challenging the viewer with new or difficult images or subject matter and Performance, especially Nicolas Roeg's work, meet that criteria.

Monthly Listening Post - Late for May/Early for June

I realized I missed posting one of these for the last month, so this one covers everything within that frame.

The Black Angels - Directions to See a Ghost
Hayes Carll - Trouble In Mind
Jamie Lidell - Jim
Old 97s - Blame It On Gravity
Sun Kil Moon - April
The Dodos - Visiter
Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago

Some new film reviews will be coming soon.

Death on the Oregon Trail

For a while your humble film snob has been ranting and raving about how shitty a place Upstate New York is and how I can't wait to get to Portland, Oregon. Well, I've been out here a month now and let's just say that things didn't turn out the way they played out in the mind. So, it's with my tail between my legs and with great humiliation that I'm packing up all my shit and heading back to the comfort that is the place that I've railed against since the inception of this useless blog. One part of this is musical, since I'm heading back just in time to go to the Radio Woodstock Mountain Jam at Hunter Mountain in the Catskills. Since I'm not going to Bonnaroo, a lineup that features the Drive-By Truckers, Dr. Dog, Ray LaMontagne, and the Felice Brothers being a short drive from my home is too inticing not too take up is one reason. The other is being the piss poor economy, which hasn't been helped by this incompetent administration. I know that the President doesn't have that much influence over the economic system, but still, this guy has fucked up so much that you can't blame it on him at least a little...

Anyway, the point being of this post is that I'm wussing out and heading back to Upstate New York even though I said that Portland would be so much better. The truth is that the neighborhood I've been crashing in has shown me all I've need to know about the Portland hipster. And while you're Useless Film Snob may seem like a hipster from his musical likes, the truth is I can't stand most of them. So, the best thing I can think of is to retreat to the Hippie-friendly paradises of Ithaca (and to Binghamton to a lesser extent, even though it's full of bat-shit crazy fascists) to get my views on music and film across.

All of this is meant to say that the Useless Film Snob will be relocating to the liberal oasis that is Ithaca, New York (and this is for real, no more b.s.) After being on the West Coast for a month, I've now come to realize that having a crappy job in Ithaca and being able to post useless shit on this blog is more important than being out here in the Pacific Northwest, unemployed and completely miserable.

The Killing Fields

The Killing Fields (Roland Joffe, 1984) [5]

It's hard to not like a film like this because it makes you feel like you don't give a care about the situation in Cambodia that this portrays. That's not to say what the Khmer Rogue did was wrong but there is definitely a difference between history and film. This film is no different than any other kind of middlebrow picture Hollywood has put out about world situations, mostly in the third world. The plot is based on Sydney Schanberg's time in Cambodia during the Civil War and Khmer Rogue take over. The first half of the film deals directly this. The second half deals with Schanberg's colleague and translator, Dith Pran, as he struggles to free from the forced agrarian labor camps set up by the Khmer Rogue. The main problem is the same flaw that hampers all films of this sort: it creates such a sense of guilt and shame in the Western viewer seeing what to them are barbaric actions by a people different from them. My problem doesn't have to deal with anything with the situation itself; the actions were clearly barbaric but in strictly film terms, the entire situation is manipulative. Joffe uses Dith Pran's ordeal and suffering to further his own sense of self-approval for telling the world of the horrific situation in Cambodia. It's not to say that he shouldn't but the whole film smacks so much of a sense of superiority in the filmmaker that he's doing a deed that so many other aren't that it completely taints the film. Couple with that that the film just isn't executed that well, with performances that are too stilted and emotionally empty that it really almost does a disservice to the story being told. Then again, the ending in all its standard uplifting glory is just too hard to be completely removed from, so Joffe must have done something well enough to work. Just for once, though, I would like to see a major film that handles third world affairs without such a heavy hand and tells its story without the sanctimonious babble.

Southland Tales

Southland Tales (Richard Kelly, 2007) [4]

This isn't quite the complete disaster that many reviews have made it out to be but it's way too messy to make me think it's any good either. A terrorist attack on American soil has turned the nation into a quasi-police state headed by a surveillance agency with ties to a vice-presidential candidate and a company producing a new form of energy called Liquid Karma. A group of "neo-Marxists" is attempting to overthrow the government by exploiting an action star with amnesia (Dwyane Johnson, or The Rock) who happens to be married to a the vice-presidential candidate's daughter. A lot of other characters come and go all leading to an ending steeped in supernatural gibberish, a la Kelly's last film, Donnie Darko. Kelly's script has so many different tangents and characters with so many stories that it creates a film that is so meandering that it's too difficult to really know what's going on. Just because the story is sprawling doesn't automatically make this a bad film. Kelly makes the film convoluted because he is trying to say too much and a lot of what he saying is complete nonsense. The main problem with this film is that Kelly often diffuses any criticism of the film by certain defense elements. The political ideology of the film is fairly half-baked, especially the neo-Marxists, whose knowledge of Marxism must not gotten beyond reading dorm room posters. Kelly compensates for this by having a character mention that these Marxists know next to nothing. Right there, I lost all respect for any political ideas the film attempts to make. Another defense mechanism is that Kelly fills the film with a cavalcade of B-list and character actors like John Laroquette, Wallace Shawn, and SNL relics like Cheri Oteri, Nora Dunn, and John Lovitz. It comes of as an ironic, wink-wink, remember this guy type of move that says don't take this film that seriously. Aside from these actors, the main performances pretty much stink, especially Sarah Michelle Gellar and The Rock. The only real credible performance, surprisingly enough, is Justin Timberlake, helped by his surreal sequence lip-synching The Killers' 'All These Things That I've Done.' It's the only real moment where the film goes beyond the story and shows some sign of craft. The ending is more confusing and sloppy than the rest of the film. In spite of this, there were never really any moments that I absolutely hated about this film. The problem is that there weren't enough moment in that I actually liked either.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (Julian Schnabel, 2007) [6]

It's hard to dislike this film because it's central message, of finding some kind of optimism in a horrible situation, is something that most humans are programmed to react favorably to. I have no qualms with what the film says but I don't completely buy into the way it's constructed. Schnabel has received a lot of accolades for his decision to make the camera a first person device, letting the viewer experience what Jean-Dominique Bauby experienced after he suffered a massive stroke. It's not a bad decision but to me, it feels that Schnabel is doing too much of the work. Of course it's going to be incomprehensible to know that experience that Bauby was in, but it feels put upon by Schnabel is this is how the viewer should feel. I'm never completely comfortable having this made up for me before I really get into the film. Perhaps I'm making too much out of this but I feel this is the one element that is causing the film to be praised. It's skilled filmmaking, no doubt; however, its force of perspective doesn't enthrall me. If you want visual flair, go watch some Brakhage or Ernie Gehr. Outside of that, I found when the film removes itself from Bauby's perspective, it becomes better. Mathieu Amalric is in a tough position as Bauby, playing a difficult role that by its nature, doesn't call attention to itself. This may not sound like me, but the moments that speak truest are the ones that border on middlebrow melodrama, family strife and the connections the paralyzed Bauby makes with his caretakers. Emmanuelle Seigner, Marie-Josee Croze, and Anne Cosigny are all very good but it's Max Van Sydow as Bauby's ailing father that's the real unsung character of this. The scene where he calls his paralyzed son does more to express the themes of life and death, the optimism over despair that Schnabel spells out through the rest. Only a heartless cynic could find this film trite but let's not fall over ourselves praising it either. The story may be inspiring but there are stylistic flaws I just don't agree with.

No End In Sight

No End In Sight (Charles Ferguson, 2007) [7]

Because it has no political axe to grind, No End In Sight is being seen as the more levelheaded of all the Iraq documentaries. It may also have to do as much with style as substance. Ferguson crafts a film straight-forward in its goals and executions without a any loud, partisan tactics. It's this textbook like approach to the film, laying out all its information very succinctly, that will get it called non-partisan. But it also makes it a bit lackluster. For a film that documents all the catastrophic blunders and arrogance of those in the Bush Administration that concocted the Iraq War, it should make me feel a bit more outraged. Instead, it comes out as a depressed resignation that it's a situation that we're (I'm referring to the American public in the collective we) stuck in for quite a long time. Ferguson doesn't handle any of the ideological ideas behind going into the war but instead sticks to what happens after the move for war was made. Without going into a laundry list, it's a series of mistakes and reckless action by those in the Bush administration (Rumsfeld, Cheney, Wolfowitz) that ended up causing a cavalcade of problems in Iraq that should have been avoided. What's most interesting is that the top of the Defense department, more than likely with Cheney's assistance, overrode every red flag raised by others like the State department and their own generals. Ferguson interviews key figures in the planning of the occupation who tell of blunders like de-Baathifiqation and dissolving the Iraqi army, which subsequently led to the collapse of any infrastructure and helped embolden the insurgency. It paints a picture of key figures in the administration as either so blindly arrogant or so incredibly incompetent that it should be appalling to every American. The sad conclusion of the film is that this is really everything that most everyone should already know. Instead of attempting to ask or give some answers, Ferguson cops out and gives a recap montage that is the film's only weak spot in terms of construction. It is weak enough that it causes the film not to be as strong of a statement that it could have been. But then again, if you needed this film to change your position on the war, things may be just as bad as I think they are.