Paprika

"Paprika"
Satoshi Kon, 2007

In "Paprika," an engrossing science fiction tale that uses a combination of computer-generated effects and hand-drawn animation, a team of researchers, led by a steely woman named Atsuko, creates a device that allows them to enter people's dreams. The potential for effective therapy notwithstanding, these researchers don't have any idea about the dangers of this new technology, which become all too apparent when they, while hooked up to the device, become trapped within their own dreams.

Atsuko, who works under the guise of "Paprika," a charismatic, red-haired superhero, while she is in the dreamworld, is confident that she can save the team, and her product. But naturally, complications arise. "Paprika," with its vivid colors and often disturbing visuals, works beautifully as an exploration of whether it is healthier to let our lives be ruled by reality or by our more fantastical dreams. One of the characters, Detective Kogawa, abandoned his true passion, making movies - a common motif, and an interesting one given the film's focus on reality vs. illusion - and he uses the dream machine for constructive purposes, to figure out how he can incorporate his lifelong aspirations into his everyday life. One of the researcher's assistants, Himuro, on the other hand, uses the device for more destructive purposes. Having a banal career, he wants to remain within the illusion created by the confines of his own dreams, at the expense of his physical well-being.

As Himuro and other researchers become trapped within their own dreams, the dreamworld begins to have a will of its own, and many people's dreams meld into one consolidated nightmare that extends into the real world. This dream has a veneer of happiness, as the trapped researchers march with a rambunctious, confetti-strewn parade of toys; but underneath is a sinister side, the darkness of people's sub-conscious, I suppose, which is purely surreal and brilliantly realized. Atsuko, unwilling to delve into her own culpability, suspects that there is someone behind this, and indeed, in the film's climax, we discover that the researchers' chairman, a cadaverous man trapped in a wheelchair, is the villain. "Paprika" does suffer from making a villain responsible for the mess, and it doesn't help that his reasons for taking over the dreamworld are disappointingly conventional. Dreams, we discover during this experience, are much more compelling and much more terrifying when there's no rhyme or reason to them.

First Viewed: 7/31/08, on Blu-ray Disc
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Making It: How Chicago shaped Obama

"Making It: How Chicago shaped Obama"
The New Yorker, July 21, 2008

By Ryan Lizza

Well, I finally finished reading this 16-page, 17,000-word article on Barack Obama's political career in Chicago from the early 1990s through 2004. It's strange, because in sticking with this article over the past two weeks, it feels like I have been performing a civic duty; I felt a need to better understand the candidate, even though I was often on the verge of giving up on reading about him altogether.

It's not that the article is boring or poorly-written. This is a showcase of exemplary writing, and The New Yorker's never-before-seen - at least by me - photographs of Obama provide wonderful snippets of his career. There are simply so many insights provided by so many people that it grows overwhelming. It would have been nice if Lizza had, in the manner of Russian novels, provided a list of all the people he interviewed and their relation to Obama, because I forgot who they were almost immediately after he initially wrote about them.

Despite the enormous breadth and length of "Making It," I still find it to be a fascinating and logically-constructed article on who Obama really is. We read about a politician, not a Messiah-figure, who is so adept at maintaining networks, organizing campaigns, and using the current institutions in his favor that his bid for the presidency seems inevitable. I like how Lizza gives equal care to those who used to be close to Obama and now criticize him; he has shifted his friendships over the years, leaving a number of people feeling disillusioned. But this is all inevitable in the life of a politician, and it is fascinating to read about how Obama quickly learned from his many mistakes to transform himself into a better politician - he switched from the stiff speaking style of an "arrogant academic" to that of a more laid-back, charismatic leader, for instance.

"Making It" is a long and challenging read, but it is certainly a worthy time investment.

Rating: 9

A Link to the Article, on The New Yorker's Website

Peeping Tom

"Peeping Tom"

Michael Powell, 1960

"Peeping Tom" is a film about, well, a voyeur, who is named Mark (Karlheinz Bohm). Mark is a handsome introvert, and an outsider who cannot comfortably interact with anyone. So, when he isn't working in the movie studio as a focus puller, he simply walks around and observes, shooting footage of everything he witnesses with a small 16 mm camera. But Mark is no ordinary voyeur. He has an unfortunate habit of murdering women, with the pointed end of his camera's tripod leg, no less, and attains a perverse pleasure from viewing their terrified faces before they die.

When Mark befriends a fellow tenant named Helen, however, he begins to open up and, at her behest, show her some of his films. Whether or not the well-meaning, if slightly naive, Helen is ready to accept his dark secrets is an entirely different matter. This film bares some comparison to Hitchcock's thriller, "Psycho," which was released only two months later. Shot with Eastman color stock, "Peeping Tom" features unusually rich visuals, and Michael Powell's use of lighting, with its deep shadows and beautiful array of colors, is impeccable. "Psycho," which was shot on black-and-white stock, has visuals that are equally striking, but its monochromatic visuals create a bleak atmosphere that hints at the way the film's psychopath, Norman Bates, views his world; everything is either dead-or-alive, black-or-white, with no room for discrepancy.

Both films center around very creepy individuals, but "Psycho" is more successful as a work of suspense; Bates, because of Anthony Perkins's performance and Hitchcock's bleak atmosphere, is a terrifying and volatile presence. Mark simply isn't as compelling or frightening a figure, in comparison. And then there are the weak aspects of "Peeping Tom," some questionable acting by the extras, a few awkwardly staged dialogue exchanges, and a tedious narrative concerning the police's investigation of the murders. I still find "Peeping Tom" to be a good companion piece to "Psycho," but then again, I, like Helen, have always been a sucker for pretty photography.

Rating: 7.5

First Viewed: 7/30/08, on DVD
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L.A. Story

"L.A. Story"
Mick Jackson, 1991

Harris Telemacher, who is played by Steve Martin, is a local news station's weatherman, a titular position since L.A. is always sunny and seventy-two degrees - with the occasional threat of freezing fifty-eight degree weather, of course. "L.A. Story" starts off as a promising, funny critique of L.A.'s purely superficial culture. One particularly memorable sequence, "The Spring Equinox," depicts Telemacher, driving with his material-oriented girlfriend, defending himself from other vicious drivers on a freeway by pulling out a pistol and engaging in intense gunfights.

Even for a film that fully embraces its obvious critique of L.A., throwing jokes at every possible turn, it's surprising how quickly "L.A. Story" loses steam. After the first fifteen minutes, Steve Martin, who is the writer, seem to run out of ideas and his film suddenly becomes a predictable love story, where Telemacher falls in love with an awkward British woman who is anything but superficial. There are moments of touching comedic brilliance, especially those in which a lonely freeway sign sends cryptic messages to Telemacher, but in straying from its more inspired beginnings, "L.A. Story" ends up being an experience that isn't all that memorable.

Rating: 6

First Viewed: 7/3/08, on DVD
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Tell No One

"Tell No One"
Guillaume Canet, 2006

This film is a puzzle. Its plot, centering around a doctor who tries to figure out why his wife was murdered eight years prior, is intricately laid out. The film's pacing is both patient and efficient, and the director, Guillaume Canet, refrains from giving us any easy answers. His camera focuses on the little moments in order to slowly excavate his characters - there is a very brief shot of a waitress' bottom, followed by a reaction shot of one of our protagonist's friends staring at it, for example.

Unlike most puzzles, though, this unusually compelling thriller is a lot of fun to piece together. The actor, Francois Cluzet, working with all the tools that Canet gives him, delivers a wonderful performance of an ordinary man who is thrust into appalling situations. His character, Dr. Beck, tries to put the murder of his wife behind him, but something keeps holding him back. Every year, on the anniversary of her death, he visits his parents-in-law, which is always an awkward event. But the eighth anniversary is different; two bodies, presumably of the people who murdered his wife, are discovered nearby. The police reopen the case, and Dr. Beck, once again, becomes their prime suspect.

All of Dr. Beck's frustrations build until finally, when the police decide to arrest him, he simply runs away on foot. In most films, such chase sequences are clumsily-constructed, and they ultimately fail because they are, in the end, excuses for loud, action setpieces. This sequence is certainly an action-oriented setpiece, but it is anything but clumsy in its execution. Canet's edits are clean, and his use of sound is spare and devastating; all the while, his camera doggedly tracks our protagonist's every step. Never before have I empathized with a character, trying to flee both from his pursuers and from the ghosts of his own past, so much in the midst of a chase.

Unfortunately, the film takes the relatively easy way out during its ending. One of the characters reveals almost everything to Dr. Beck; it is all some sort of conspiracy involving political figures we hardly meet during our adventure. For a film that meticulously constructed everything up to this moment, layering clue upon clue perfectly, it is disappointing that Canet felt a need to jam everything together awkwardly, right at the crucial moment of our character's ultimate discovery. Nonetheless, "Tell No One" is an enthralling, beautifully-crafted film in which we ourselves become participants and, alongside our characters, attempt to piece together the mystery.

Rating: 8.5

First Viewed: 7/27/08, in 35 mm projection
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Chris & Don. A Love Story

"Chris & Don. A Love Story"
Tina Mascara and Guido Santi, 2008

I admire people who have the courage to go against the grain and engage in what they love, even if all of society is working against them. Thus, my interest in this new documentary, which follows the decades-long romance between a 19-year-old future portrait artist and a 49-year-old writer, Don Bachardy and Chris Isherwood, respectively, that began in the 1950s. This is a touching story about two men who remained dedicated to each other in spite of their huge age gap and other relationship issues that cropped up.

The filmmakers mix in fascinating archive footage, shot by Don and Chris themselves, simple animation involving a cat and a horse, which serves as a representation of their relationship, and several hazy and pointless re-enactments. Don himself, who is seventy-four years old, sports very stylish glasses and still paints portraits, serves as the unofficial narrator. Despite growing up in L.A., he speaks in an unusually eloquent manner, and with a hint of a British accent, both of which he attained from the British-born Chris.

Don isn't afraid to delve into the darker aspects of his relationship, especially with regards as to whether it was in his best interest to engage in such a dedicated relationship when he was so young. After all, he had little time to develop himself as an a unique individual, which frustrated him and even led to some extra-relationship affairs. Chris died nearly twenty-five years ago, and even though the film features some diary entries, which are read by Michael York, it would have been interesting to hear more of his perspective on the relationship, and how his life-long interest in very young-looking men affected the way he was perceived by others; as Don points out, both of them share an eerie semblance that makes them look like father and son.

But this isn't a documentary about how others perceived the couple, even though the film may have been more compelling had it delved into the social difficulties experienced by a gay couple that was out during the 1950s. Rather, this film focuses almost exclusively on their experiences with one another, placing special emphasis on how close they became during the last six months Chris's life, while he was slowly dying from prostate cancer. Don decided to make portraits of Chris on a daily basis, which document Chris's bodily deterioration in an unflinching manner. "I saw it as payback," Don laughs, "seeing as Chris was the one who got me into drawing in the first place." And we realize that Don, despite his difficulties, was incredibly fortunate, more so than most straight couples, to have had such a beautiful and committed relationship.

First Viewed: 7/26/08, in 35 mm projection
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The Dark Knight

"The Dark Knight"
Christopher Nolan, 2008

While watching the ten-or-so previews before the latest installment of the Batman franchise, I was struck by their similarity to one another. They each shared a dark tone, a widespread defeatism concerning our ability to control our lives. "The Dark Knight," Christopher Nolan's second take on the superhero, shares this dark tone, too, though I doubt that any of those upcoming films will be able to match this film's profusion of fascinating themes and compelling characters.

In the new film, the combination of Batman, who is played by a decent Christian Bale, and a new, charismatic District Attorney named Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), have sent Gotham City's criminal organizations reeling. A group of mob leaders decide to turn to a psychopath, called the Joker (Heath Ledger), to take care of these threats to their business. But in their desperation, they unwittingly unleash a monster that is set on destroying the entire city. The Joker is a fascinating figure, a person who is so detached from society and so rotten at the core that the only way he can interact with others is by murdering them. For his part, Heath Ledger, who rips into the Jokers' twisted, amoral qualities with relish, delivers one of his finest performances.

Earlier today, I watched the Disney movie, "Lilo and Stitch," and I recall a scene where Stitch, the laboratory-manufactured alien that is programmed to destroy everything in its path, levels a model city, and afterward sits in the midst of the mess, realizing that there's nothing left to do when everything has been destroyed. A similar moment occurs in "The Dark Knight," when the Joker walks away from a hospital he has blown up, pauses, and turns around to look at the destruction he has wreaked. We wonder, in that brief moment, if the character has had an epiphany about the futility of his horrific actions. But then, he pulls out his detonator and sets off a series of even bigger explosions that further damage what has already been destroyed. It's a beautifully constructed moment that tells us so much about the character; here is a psychopath without boundaries, who simply kills because he can.

Panic ensues, and despite many efforts by the police and an increasingly-frustrated Batman, the Joker's mayhem - considered by officers as "acts of terrorism," in one of a number of references to Sept. 11 - continues unabated. Nolan maintains a consistently dark tone, a decision that has its benefits and weaknesses. His incessantly bleak atmosphere makes the hopelessness of these characters all the more palpable, but there is little variety in his storytelling, which gives the film a surprisingly monotonous touch - we can only witness so many instances of hostages being threatened and explosions going off before it all grows repetitive.

One area of this film's predecessor, "Batman Begins," that needed improvement was its action scenes. These were terribly edited, visually claustrophobic sequences, whose attempt to depict Batman's element of surprise failed because it was simply impossible to see him. "The Dark Knight" shows improvement in this regard, especially in an exciting car chase that takes place on the streets of Gotham City at nighttime. But the final, major action sequence, which takes place in a skyscraper undergoing construction, reverts back to the incomprehensible technique of the first film - it is nearly impossible to tell who is a hostage, a SWAT team member, or Batman in this messy sequence.

In spite of its weaknesses, this sequence is still an interesting reflection of the film's dark tone, where desperate people, pushed to their emotional limits, no longer know who to trust; after all, we can't really tell who is struggling against who. Amidst all this confusion, Ledger's Joker floats in and out of the film, an impervious threat that can show up at any moment. At one point, Batman asks his servant, Alfred (Michael Caine), who was a soldier, how he defeated a seemingly invincible rogue soldier. Alfred merely answers, "We burned the forest." Our protagonists are forced to make some unsavory decisions to deal with the psychopath, none of which are all that effective. Towards the end of the film, we watch, out of apprehension for our characters' moral well-being and with the ever-diminishing hope that the villain will eventually be killed, and see to what lengths Batman and the authorities go before they, out of desperation, simply give up and raze the entire city.

Rating: 8.5

First Viewed: 7/25/08, in 35 mm projection
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Metropolis

"Metropolis"
Fritz Lang, 1927

When we first view the fictional city of "Metropolis," we are placed underneath the earth, witnessing hordes of identical workers, lined up in perfect order, waiting for the gates to their workplace to rise before marching off to maintain the machines that run the city; they may as well be entombed in a prison. Then, in contrast, we see the nicest area of Metropolis, perched high above all the street urchins and dirty workers, where the spoiled children of the city's most powerful individuals flock. It is there that we meet Freder, the son of the city's exceedingly capitalist leader, Joh Frederson. Freder is basically a hapless pretty-boy; even though he's our protagonist, he doesn't accomplish all that much. Instead, he inadvertently starts a revolution when he lays eyes on a pretty woman, named Maria, who serves as a prophet-of-sorts for the hopeless workers. Things get even more complicated when a mad scientist, named Rotwang, creates a "Machine-Man" and uses that robot to impersonate Maria and brainwash the unsuspecting hordes of workers.

"Metropolis" is an ambitious film that addresses several common themes throughout history: the struggle between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, the dehumanizing effects of modernization, and the role of religion in shaping people's worldview. All of these are fascinating, but one element of "Metropolis" that I find particularly interesting is how machinery, in this "ideal" world, become virtually indistinguishable from humans. Maria preaches a message of hope, encouraging the workers to wait for a Messiah, called the "mediator," who will serve as a bridge between the poor and the powerful. Though her robot version preaches a very different message consisting of pure hatred, which incites rebellion, the workers think the machine is the same charismatic leader and follow its example, instead. Both versions of Maria are two sides of the same coin, as they illustrate how an institution that unites people to a common cause, such as religion, can be used to help improve the world or to destroy it.

It is unfortunate that over a quarter of the film has been lost, because there are many missing parts that would have helped to develop the characters, especially Frederson's goon the "Thin Man." There are a number of moments where the characters' physical position and even their relationship to one another make no sense: Freder is above-ground one moment and below-ground in the workers' section the next; Frederson issues a command that allows workers to destroy the machinery, but is genuinely shocked when he discovers that the entire city has shut down. Even if some of these missing sections are discovered, they would not be able to cure the movie of its sappy ending, in which members of all of Metropolis' social classes join hands in a show of unity. In its current state, "Metropolis" is a visually mesmerizing experience with some compelling themes, but it lacks the complexity and the narrative coherence of Lang's later film, "M."

Rating: 8

First Viewed: 7/24/08, on DVD
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The Edge of Heaven

"The Edge of Heaven"

Fatih Akin, 2008

There is an old man, who grew up in Turkey but now resides in Germany, who falls in love with a hooker, who also, chance would have it, comes from Turkey. They fall in love and live together until, one day, when the old man is in a drunken stupor, he suddenly slaps her, and in doing so kills her instantly. This event sets the rest of the film's plot in motion, but it is also the first of many astoundingly contrived and unintentionally hilarious moments throughout "The Edge of Heaven," a new German film that follows in the tradition of ensemble pieces, where many characters' lives, in Turkey and in Germany, intersect with one another.

The director Fatih Akin tries to depict how people's identities, when emigrating from their old, inflexible country - Turkey - to more lenient ones - Germany - which aren't always so friendly to newcomers, get mixed up. He does so with little success. Akin gives his film an impersonal touch, keeping his camera at a distance when the narrative really demands our emotional involvement. He also has an unfortunate habit of implying and telling, rather than showing, that traumatic events have occurred - a son falling out with his father, for example - and chooses to focus on the aftermath, when it's not entirely clear what it's the aftermath of in the first place.

Alas, Akin's film becomes even more absurd - the now-dead hooker has a large and caring family, apparently, whose members convince the old man's son, a professor, to go to Turkey and try to find the hooker's daughter there. He never runs into her, though, because she's a revolutionary who has fled to Germany, and it is there that she meets a pretty blond woman, who is a university student; and they suddenly become lovers, leading to many more ridiculous plot developments. It probably isn't a good sign when the characters, on multiple occassions, swipe their books off tables in frustration, and I care more about the damaged property than the characters' well-being. Who knew that angst could become so repetitive and trivial?

This is a shame, because there's no reason why these characters, when set apart from the ridiculous plot, shouldn't be fascinating figures. There are certainly promising moments throughout the film, particularly in an overhead shot of a mother, whose daughter has died in an incident, pacing her hotel room and slowly getting drunk. But it feels like Akin is afraid to delve closer, to show what's really troubling these very unfortunate people. All we witness is consistently clumsy technique that leaves us feeling just as unfulfilled as these characters.

Rating: 4

First Viewed: 7/23/08, in 35 mm projection
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Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"

Michael Gondry, 2004

Charlie Kaufman, the screenwriter of the wonderfully bizarre film "Being John Malkovich," once again tackles the topic of estranged relationships, this time focusing on that of Joel, who is played to perfection by Jim Carrey, and Clementine, who is played by an excellent Kate Winslet. "Eternal Sunshine" has a strange premise; Clementine, an impulsive woman who shelves books at a bookstore, decides one day to erase all her memories with Joel so that if the two run into each other, she won't remember him at all. Joel, unforunately, is left confounded by this sudden change, and he decides to go to the doctor, played by the always-outstanding Tom Wilkinson, who performed the procedure on Clementine, and have the same technique applied to himself. But in the middle of the procedure, the technicians, who are just as unhappy as Joel currently is, get high, leaving Joel to linger "aberrantly" with his memories.

Kaufman uses this fun, science-fiction premise to explore all the nuances of Joel and Clementine's relationship, and for the rest of the film, we follow Joel who, stuck in his brain while the operation continues, tries to find ways to save his memories of Clementine, even while she is in the midst of being deleted. What results is a humorous and touching film about love that is much more engaging than sentimental trash like "The Notebook." I love the film's structure, which, with its disjointed editing, eccentric set design and camera-work, is depicted in the way that we recall our memories; that is, it is presented in a mostly subjective manner, from the point-of-view of Joel, with certain memories being given more significance than others.

Ultimately, this film is about people who regret the mistakes they have made, and who attempt to reconcile themselves with others. Is the film realistic? Not at all, at least on a superficial level. But I think that Kaufman and Gondry have perfectly conveyed the texture of the emotional ups-and-downs that are involved with most people's relationships.

Rating: 10

First Viewed: 7/22/08, on DVD
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The Brothers Grimm

"The Brothers Grimm"
Terry Gilliam, 2005

I have only seen one other film, "Brazil," from Terry Gilliam, the former member of Monty Python turned director. Even though that film has numerous weaknesses, much of its success hinges on Gilliam's ability to craft bizarre, visually brilliant scenarios that manage to hold significance to the film's larger narrative. It is to my extreme disappointment, then, to have come across one of his most recent films, "The Brothers Grimm."

Here, we follow the legendary duo of storytellers, played by Matt Dillon and Heath Ledger, who are virtually unrecognizable as, respectively, the strong, pretty-boy and the ungainly, professor-type. In this film, they are portrayed as businessmen, who use their purported knowledge of fairytales and witchcraft to save - and exploit - villagers who have irrational fears of such make-believe things. But the French, occupying central Europe under Napoleon, suddenly catch up to them, and two ridiculously theatrical officers, General Delatombe (Jonathan Pryce) and an agent named Cavaldi (Peter Stormare), force them to visit a depressing German town and solve a mystery in which a dozen young girls have disappeared in the surrounding forest. This plot development doesn't make any sense considering the officers know the Grimm Brothers' profession is a hoax, but that's the least of the film's problems.

Gilliam's art design is, as always, the film's strong point - I particularly like a shot in which a Little-Red-Riding-Hood-like girl walks through a creepy forest, even if it borrows heavily from Tim Burton's film "Sleepy Hollow." But this film is simply a mess. Narratives butt in and just as suddenly drop out. Accents and character motivations transform on a whim. Laughably-rendered CGI creatures intrude on Gilliam's meticulous set-work. A lurching pace gives the film a half-finished, bloated feel that stretches its already-overlong two-hour runtime.

And finally, the overarching story is boring, something about an evil, five-hundred-year-old queen stealing the town's girls to maintain her youth. The queen's lair, which is perched in a room on the top of a tower, strikes a perfect combination of creepiness and entertainment; however, by the time we finally witness this wonderful visual, near the end, it is far too late. We could care less about these characters' exploits, which are rendered meaningless by the film's lack of cohesion. "The Brothers Grimm" is wasted potential, and I sincerely hope that Gilliam's next project offers a more focused and better-crafted experience.

Rating: 3

First Viewed: 7/21/08, on Blu-ray Disc
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Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance

“Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance”
Godfrey Reggio, 1983

There is no narrative, nor are there any characters to hold our interest. This wonderful experimental film, presented by Francis Ford Coppola, instead relies on its photography, by Ron Fricke, and its score, by Philip Glass, to create a mesmerizing atmosphere. The first twenty minutes are merely comprised of beautiful shots of nature that are taken from around the world; all the while Glass's score hums in the background, providing a backbone that complements the stately rhythm of the film's editing. I was thinking, up to this point, that "Koyaanisqatsi" would continue to be like an unusually well-produced program that one would find on the Discovery Channel. But then, the humans arrive.

What I find most fascinating about Godfrey's film is that it doesn't treat its human subjects any differently from the ones found in nature. For both subjects, Reggio's film tends to go to the extremes, using both slow-motion and time-lapse shots, and it is organized into blocs of common themes: landscape shots, buildings undergoing demolition, extreme long shots of cars, speeded up, flying through freeway lanes like atoms, people milling about train stations. And only a film like this would feature a three-minute long, slow-motion, extreme telephoto shot of a 747 taxiing on a runway.

So, what is the point? This is a film that, through its beautiful images and its experimental soundtrack, washes over us and creates an unique atmosphere. Its purpose, I think, is to provide a different perspective on our existence, one that simultaneously trivializes and makes us aware of our imperceptible daily activities. I initially thought this film's purpose was to blame humans for ruining nature, as is evident in our first view of humans, which is a low angle shot of a giant mining vehicle that features an ominous score. But ultimately, this is a film that reminds us to take a step back, to appreciate our place in the world, in light of how many other humans and aspects of nature exist in a larger context. Are we really all that special? Is all our work in vain, in light of how huge our planet really is? Even if the answers to these questions are never fully answered, this film is, at the very least, an incredibly beautiful and haunting experience.

Rating: Mesmerizing

First Viewed: 7/20/08, on DVD
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Sunshine

"Sunshine"
Danny Boyle, 2007

The Sun is something of a paradox. It is essential for life as we know it, but it gives us skin cancer. It provides more than enough heat and energy, but without an atmosphere we're toast. Yes, this is a very random observation, but this strange paradox lies at the heart of "Sunshine," a science-fiction film by the director Danny Boyle ("Trainspotting"). Decades into the future, the Sun has run out of energy, and Earth's leaders have sent out a spaceship, called the Icarus II, with a device that can, in theory, reignite the Sun. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the small team of astronauts responsible for maintaining the ship is in for a rough ride. The ship is called the Icarus II for a reason; seven years prior, the first ship with a similar device and a very similar name - Icarus I - had gone missing. Besides, this is a science-fiction film, and where's the fun if not for many things going wrong?

And indeed, they do. The astronauts discover the Icarus I, and by deciding to rendezvous with it, they change their course; a slight miscalculation by one remarkably incompetent astronaut throws the ship's huge heat shield's alignment off, and chaos ensues. "Sunshine" has some very pretty visuals, particularly one in which crew members view the Sun from the safety of a heavily-polarized observation room. The astronauts can hardly take their eyes off the mesmerizing sight, and we can only imagine how, during their lifetimes on Earth, they have hardly been able to see the ever-diminishing Sun, something that we take for granted. But these are paper-thin characters, so when the astronauts are invariably killed off, we hardly give a damn. Only our protagonist, a physician who is the only person who can operate the device, leaves much of an impact; this is mostly due to Cillian Murphy's piercing, unsettling blue eyes, and to his above-average performance.

Up to this point, "Sunshine" is silly, but reasonably entertaining fare, but when the Icarus II docks with its predecessor, things go downhill. The surviving crew members encounter the "Sun Man," for lack of a better description, the captain of the first Icarus who had an epiphany and abandoned the mission. This epiphany is sketchy, something about realizing that humans are dust and that we should just accept our fate. I don't have a problem with the concept, despite the fact that it's hardly fleshed out; the Sun Man is essentially the Sun-incarnate, a dangerous entity that seems intent on foiling the astronauts' mission, despite their efforts to, ironically, save the Sun.

What I do have a problem with is the technique involved with the last third of the film. The Sun Man has an interesting appearance, with bubbling, glowing skin that resembles the surface of the Sun, but we can hardly see him because of Boyle's strange camerawork and editing. He employs lots of extreme closeups, blurred shots that resemble what it would probably look like if we looked at the Sun for too long, and very quick cuts, which, rather than giving the Sun Man an aura of danger and mystery, produce a loud and busy mess with poorly-realized action sequences. "Sunshine" ends up being a disappointment, which is unfortunate given the film's potentially interesting idea of the Sun as both a source of life and of destruction.

Rating: 5

First Viewed: 7/28/08, on Blu-ray Disc
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Control

"Control"

Anton Corbijn, 2007

This film is a portrait of the short life of Ian Curtis, the singer of the British band, Joy Division. Films in this genre generally follow the traditional rise-and-fall trajectory of a talented, yet deeply flawed musician. "Control," which is directed by Anton Corbijn, takes a slightly different perspective. Ian is not one of those musicians who gets corrupted by fame and wealth; he is, and remains until the end, a quiet guy who enjoys reading literature and writing lyrics. Rather, his major weakness, as depicted by the actor Sam Riley, is his sheer youthfulness and his lack of maturity in an environment that requires complete attentiveness. Unfortunately, he suffers from epilepsy, which requires him to take medication that affect his emotions and focus. (On a parenthetical note, a sequence in which Curtis is prescribed several kinds of medication at once, after suffering from his very first seizure, is completely inaccurate; he would only be given one kind of medication at first.)

Corbijn's black-and-white cinematography is beautifully-implemented, which is no surprise given his music video roots, but the relationships are poorly handled. We have no idea how the band members interact with one another, and we never learn why music appeals so much to Curtis - he spontaneously seems to join the band and they spontaneously seem to land record deals. "Control," instead of centering on the role of music in this musician's life, focuses most intently on Curtis's troubled relationship with his wife, Debbie (Samantha Morton). The couple married at a very young age, and Curtis, almost immediately, is ready to move on to other women. On one of his tours, he runs into a pretty Belgian journalist, Annik (Alexandra Maria Lara), and they begin to have an affair, which Debbie eventually discovers.

One aspect that I like about "Control" is its accurate suggestion that musicians' songs are greatly influenced by their private lives; the relatively few songs we see Curtis play are subordinate to the narrative involving this relationship triangle. How Curtis's issues affect his music, however, could have been made even more apparent had the film's relationship aspect been far more interesting. It is not very nuanced, nor is it all that original in its execution; and the characters' exchanges, though heated and well-acted, are, surprisingly, poorly written.

Here is the end of an inexcusably silly exchange between Annik and Curtis, that speaks for itself:
"I'm a little scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Scared of falling in love with you."

"Control" attempts to be a different kind of rise-and-fall film, one in which the musician's private life is the primary focus, rather than his music. It's an interesting idea, but whether this approach works in practice is an entirely different matter.

Rating: 5

First Viewed: 7/17/08, on DVD
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Letters From Iwo Jima

"Letters From Iwo Jima"
Clint Eastwood, 2006

Clint Eastwood's film, "Flags of Our Fathers" (2006), followed a group of U.S. Marines during and after the horrific fight for the isolated island, Iwo Jima, in the Pacific Theater during World War II. "Letters From Iwo Jima," that film's companion piece, views the conflict from the perspective of the Japanese soldiers on the island. Undersupplied and understaffed, the troops do their best to prepare for the impending invasion by U.S. Marines under the island's new, resourceful Army commander, General Kuribayashi, who is played by the excellent actor Ken Watanabe.

Eastwood, in both of his films, does an excellent job at conveying the frightening and unforgiving nature of war - it's nearly impossible to distinguish between U.S. and Japanese soldiers in the midst of many brutal skirmishes, and soldiers on both sides are capable of acts of unspeakable cruelty and compassion. Both films, unfortunately, get waylaid by intrusive melodramatic passages and flashbacks, which I suspect are courtesy of Paul Haggis's - who wrote "Million Dollar Baby" and "Crash," both of which are films I dislike - typically sentimental script. While these sequences help to develop the characters, they cut in at all the wrong times - during the middle of battle - which interrupts the film's impeccably-crafted oppressive atmosphere.

Eastwood himself was never one for subtlety; take his cowboy in his excellent Western, "Unforgiven," who repeatedly tells, rather than shows us, the effects the death of his wife had on his outlook on life. The same thing applies here, though to an admittedly lesser extent as the conflict is often depicted graphically. Then again, such straight-forwardness is necessary in a film such as this, where the futile nature of this single battle, which took tens of thousands of lives, needs to be applied, equally, to both participants in the conflict.

Rating: 7.5

First Viewed: 7/15/08, on Blu-ray Disc
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Stalker

"Stalker"

Andrei Tarkovsky, 1979

This film is a science-fiction tale about the "Zone," the site of a meteorite impact in Russia that is, according to legend, a source of mysterious and other-worldly powers. The area has been cordoned off by the police for decades; however, there is a small, illicit business where a guide, nick-named a "Stalker," attempts to lead dejected people to a room within the Zone where their innermost wishes come true.

We follow one Stalker, a tired-looking man who has emerging patches of gray hair, and one of his ventures into the Zone with two men who are simply referred to as the Writer and the Professor. We learn that this Stalker lived within the Zone when the meteorite struck, leaving his newborn daughter a mutant without any legs. Since then, his entire life has centered around the Zone, which has become his obsession and his home, unlike the shack, located within a depressing, unnamed industrial city, that his family now resides in.

This film is a challenging experience, a hefty journey in which we enter a world where sounds and images are, at once, alien and familiar. The initial shots, in which the Stalker dutifully prepares to go into the Zone early in the morning, have a striking sepia-toned and high contrast aesthetic. His every-day existence is a depressing one, where all signs of life appear to have been drained from the image. Sounds are given a peculiar treatment, as if the noises have been detached from the objects and the people that produce them - footsteps echo with eerie, electric-like modulations, for example. There is one sequence that I find particularly captivating. The three men, having run past the police outposts, ride into the Zone on a railroad track. For five minutes, Tarkovsky's camera focuses only on these characters' visages, looking ahead into the unknown; all the while, we hear only a beautiful, bizarre synthesizer whose rhythm simulates that of the mechanized handcart they ride on.

Suddenly, the camera switches to a first-person perspective, and we witness the Zone for the first time. The lighting changes entirely, the world is now presented in color, and we hear only organic noises; the synthesizer fades away like a phantom. The sequence is similar to that of "The Wizard of Oz," where Dorothy steps out of her house into the unfamiliar, from her monochromatic world to a vividly colored one. When comparing the two directly, "Stalker's" sequence remains the more powerful and haunting - the Zone's desolate beauty and its underlying hint at danger are what make the film's atmosphere so complex and engaging. These characters seek something better, and they are so desperate that they are willing to venture into the Zone - which, despite appearing much more lively than the sepia-toned environment of their everyday existence, has the capacity to kill people - in order to find that ultimate sense of solace.

We discover that the Zone is a treacherous place that is filled with many traps, though not in the physically-harmful tradition of most science-fiction films; they are, instead, intellectual challenges, in which the group of men become trapped in their own anguish. Tarkovsky presents this in an interesting manner, often leaving many minutes without any dialogue while our protagonists, shot in extreme long shot or in extreme closeup, struggle through the wilderness. Then, the characters, for minutes on end, engage in a number of fascinating soliloquies - the Zone's traps, we eventually realize - in which they debate about the values of their lives.

Deeper down, this is an allegorical tale about belief, about people who are disillusioned with what the world has given them, and their efforts to discover what makes their lives worth living. The film poses many questions, especially in the last half-hour, that are nearly impossible to answer. Is the Zone a force of good or of evil? Of both? Though the Stalker reveres the Zone, is his zeal for the Zone's potential for goodness transferable to others? That is, can people's beliefs and values retain the same meaning from individual-to-individual? Do people have choices in what they can believe in, or is that in itself an illusion? Whatever the answers, this is one hell of a film. It's aesthetically spell-binding, aurally inventive, beautifully written and acted, and an intellectual puzzle that I'm not even close to figuring out.

Rating: 10

First Viewed: 7/13/08, on a crappy Kino DVD
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4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days

"4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days"

Cristian Mungiu, 2007

This movie takes its time, slowly building from the first moment we see the visibly agitated college student, Otilia (Anamaria Marinca), nervously straightening up her dorm room, until we discover, nearly half an hour later, that she is about to assist a friend with her abortion, a crime under the Communist regime in 1980s Romania.

This is a beautifully constructed film, and its depiction of ordinary people forced into extraordinarily difficult situations, occurring within one day, makes it all the more fascinating to watch. Its scenes are assembled in an unusual manner, like vignettes from a play. Mungiu's camera, static and positioned from a distance, and often shot in long, five-minute takes, seems to give the proceedings an impartial eye - but only at first glance. This approach really allows us, in the tradition of early Realist films, to take in all of the mannerisms of these outstanding actors unabated, with hardly any editing to interrupt the film's leisurely flow.

Initially, it is not really obvious how tense the film's atmosphere truly is. But as Otilia deals with disgruntled people everywhere she goes - her boyfriend, rude hotel employees, a greedy abortion "specialist" - her frustration becomes all the more palpable. This festering apprehension leaks into the film's very atmosphere; we come to realize that we are watching a portrait of flawed people trying their hardest to survive in a system that has turned as stagnant as the film's static cinematography. And as a snapshot of a few people's dilemmas, this is a film without a climax - life, for them and for us, simply goes on.

Rating: 10

First Viewed: 7/10/08, on DVD
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Drugstore Cowboy

"Drugstore Cowboy"
Gus van Sant, 1989

I have harbored love-hate feelings for all of the Gus van Sant films I've seen thus far: I thought "My Own Private Idaho" was a film of middling quality, enjoyed "Good Will Hunting," liked "Elephant," and hated his most recent offering, "Paranoid Park." In his later films, van Sant focuses almost exclusively, to a frustrating extent, on the visual and audio aspects, at the expense of delivering convincing acting, a well-developed story, and characters we can empathize with - in short, he is capable of producing good films as well as terribly pretentious trite. With this in mind, I was curious as to how I would react to one of his earlier films, "Drugstore Cowboy."

Van Sant's film follows a drug addict named Bob (Matt Dillon) who, with the help of his wife, Dianne (Kelly Lynch), and his partners, Rick (James LeGrose) and Nadine (Heather Graham), raids drug stores in search of expensive pharmaceuticals. These robberies not only serve as a source of income for the group, but also as a more "legal" and convenient way to quell their nasty drug addictions. What I like about van Sant's film, especially compared to his later ones, is how it centers intently on Bob's dilemma, without devolving into purely nonsensical artsiness. There are a number of visual overlays, but these are used shrewdly, and only at times of great emotional intensity - a friend dies and we see images of hats, Bob's most-feared omen, raining down over his face.

All of van Sant's films, in one way or another, focus on characters who try to survive at the fringe of society; "Drugstore Cowboy" is no different. Bob's character arc is especially fascinating to witness, however, thanks to van Sant's well-written script - his best, in my opinion - and his desire to present his character's turmoil in a more straightforward fashion. Van Sant's strengths have always been in his cinematography - he is also a professional photographer - and in his use of sound. His lighting and perfect compositions almost always feel appropriate for the given situation, and his meticulous sound design tends to place an emphasis on the small aspects we unconsciously focus on in our everyday lives - the hollow thunk of a gun being set on a table during a casual drug deal, for example.

Even though this is one of the best van Sant films I have seen, it still carries a number of his trademark weaknesses, such as some awkward, wooden acting and an ending that arrives too quickly. Nonetheless, "Drugstore Cowboy" was a pleasant surprise, an exhibition of Gus van Sant's talents at his most down-to-earthness.

Rating: 8

First Viewed: 7/8/08, on DVD
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Natural Born Killers

"Natural Born Killers"
Oliver Stone, 1994

Quentin Tarantino's story about a pair of psychotic lovers, Mickey Knox (an excellent Woody Harrelson) and Mallory Knox (Juliette Lewis), going on a murderous rampage is fine, I suppose. His plot doesn't really offer us anything original or insightful, aside from providing the brief adrenaline rush that one attains from witnessing a murder on-screen. The problem with "Natural Born Killers" is that its director, Oliver Stone, shifts his focus away from the killers, and onto society's culpability in making them the monsters they are.

Stone's film features an odd mish-mash of visuals: smooth, normal-looking 35 mm shots, ultra-grainy black-and-white shots, animation, quick edits to horror-film visuals and to television shows, and lots of blown-out highlights. This is probably the only film where I find the cinematography by Robert Richardson, who shot "JFK," "Kill Bill," and "Platoon," distracting. His camera tends to revert to dutch angles, which looks cool the first dozen times we see this, but quickly grows gimicky.

Stone's other visuals fare just as poorly - at first, I thought that he was using such a schizophrenic assortment of visuals to relay the Knoxs' disturbed mental state. But since the film is presented in this manner the entire time, with no regard as to who the subject is, I'm going to venture a guess: Stone made this decision, not only because it looked "cool," but also because he wanted to suggest that society is responsible for cultivating these killers. The film only explores this issue in broad, clumsy strokes. Robert Downey, Jr., playing a reporter - to perfection, as always - who investigates mass murderers for a TV show, is supposed to be some kind of embodiment of the media being a disseminator of hatred and violence - how the media fulfills this role, exactly, is never satisfactorily explored.

The only time that Stone properly balances the combination of entertainment, horror, and preaching about media's evils occurs during an incredibly disturbing sequence where Mickey and Mallory's brutal murder of her abusive parents - one of whom is played, surprisingly, by Rodney Dangerfield - is depicted, visually and aurally, like a cheap sitcom airing on TV. This sequence, unlike the rest of the film, perfectly conveys the insanity of these two characters, who kill simply because they can and couldn't care less about the repercussions of their actions - in their minds, their lives are as meaningful as those of actors on a TV show. But at this point, I think I'm just bored with Tarantino-style ultra-violence, which combined with Stone's needless and poorly-executed preachiness, makes this film an insufferable experience.

Rating: 4

First Viewed: 7/7/08, on Blu-ray Disc
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Superbad

"Superbad"
Greg Mottola, 2007

At its roots, "Superbad" is a low-brow comedy about a group of high school friends trying to lose their virginity with their crushes at a party before they leave for college. The film gets off to a shaky start, with the chubby, foul-mouthed loser named Seth (Jonah Hill) spouting off nauseating remarks about how he'd like to have sex with girls until, finally, even his - extremely unlikely - best friend, Evan (Michael Cera), tells him to shut up.

If the writers, Seth Rogan and Evan Goldberg, had decided to take the easy route, they would have maintained this boring level of crudity. Last year's horrendous film, "Good Luck Chuck," is an indication as to how boring and insulting a poorly-executed low-brow production can become. The primary reason I recall that film, though, is because of the similarity between Dane Cook's vulgar buddy and Seth. Fortunately for us, Rogan and Goldberg decide to take the relative high-road after the initial ten minutes.

Rather than drag us through the various mis-adventures of a bunch of jerks, "Superbad" takes us on a refreshingly simple journey with a group of socially inept people who are merely trying to be "cool." Sure, the film is filled with all kinds of contrived situations; however, the film's purpose is to relay its characters' extreme awkwardness, so this generally ends up working in its favor. The sequence in which Seth, Evan, and their nerdy friend, Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), attempt to buy alcohol for the party is particularly successful, and also quite funny, at making us identify with their inescapable awkwardness. For a low-brow film, "Superbad" ends up being far better than most films in its genre would indicate.

Rating: 7

First Viewed: 7/6/08, on Blu-ray disc
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When Did You Last See Your Father?

"When Did You Last See Your Father?"

Anand Tucker, 2007

This film is an adaptation of the author Blake Morrison's account of his relationship with his father. Blake, played by Colin Firth, exudes a feeling of despair whenever he enters the screen; his father, Arthur, has been diagnosed with terminal cancer, which compels him to reflect on their relationship over the years. From there, the film splits into three interlocking narratives: one, in 1989, covers Blake and his mother, Kim (Juliet Stevensen), taking care of Arthur on his death bed, the second briefly covers Blake's experiences as a young child, and the third covers a 17-year-old Blake's relationship with Arthur.

It is this third narrative, surprisingly, that turns out to be the most fascinating. Blake, who is played by the young actor Matthew Beard, is both a typical and atypical teen, a scrawny, horny guy who is easily embarrassed by his dad, and whose passion is literature. But the film's star is Arthur, a charismatic and good-spirited man, who is played by the outstanding British actor Jim Broadbent. These two men are fascinating characters in their own right, but when they are together, their interactions become as volatile as dynamite. Blake truly respects his dad, and Arthur, who simply loves to have fun, is proud of his son - this is especially evident in a touching sequence where the father teaches his son how to drive on an empty beach.

And yet, there is a palpable tension between the two - Arthur often cruelly teases Blake, calling him "fathead" or playing tricks on him. And Blake begins to suspect that his father is having an affair with a family friend, which makes his views of his father all the more conflicted. This is the moment when Blake begins to realize that his role models aren't perfect; his struggle to deal with this change defines the rocky relationship between the two until it is too late, and Arthur is dead. For their parts, the two actors have perfect chemistry: Beard nails his awkward, distrustful teen perfectly while Broadbent makes portraying a jovial man, with his own flaws, over several decades seem effortless.

I'm not usually a fan of such melodramatic tales, yet Tucker's film manages to avoid the pitfalls of this genre - for the most part, at least. There is an unremarkable score, complete with swelling strings, that butts in at all the wrong moments, and the ending lingers on the sadness following Arthur's death longer than need be. However, the film's depiction of these two fascinating characters gives it an unusual power that nearly overcomes such shortcomings.

Rating: 8.5

First Viewed: 7/5/08, in 35 mm projection
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Brazil

"Brazil"

Terry Gilliam, 1985

"Brazil" borrows much from George Orwell's novel, 1984, about a society living under the reign of a "big-brother" state. Like the novel, we follow a hapless bureaucrat, named Sam (Jonathan Pryce), and his journey through a bureaucratically-driven society that is dominated by the repressive state. The government's strong-arm tactics are carried out by the Ministry of Information, an ironic title given that the agency is used to crush differing opinions and force absolute loyalty to the state.

While Gilliam probes the repercussions of a state that has excessive powers, his film's primary focus is on facades, both literal and figurative. Nearly all of these characters, save for our protagonist, are facile beings - Sam's mother (Katherine Helmond), who uses her prominent position to move Sam up the bureaucratic ladder, against his wishes, and who has her face grotesquely stretched out to maintain a youthful appearance, is the epitome of this rampant superficiality. And in a breathtaking crane shot, we discover that large billboards put in place along a roadside obstruct views of the countryside because there is no more countryside - the land, ravaged by a government bent on expansion, is as barren as the moon.

What is most fascinating about the films is not what is said, but rather what is unspoken. Despite saying "positive" things, many of these characters exude a grotesque quality - much of this is due to Gillian's brilliant visuals. Faces are often lit from underneath to produce a menacing quality, and the use of wide-angle lenses and low-angle shots create an appropriately dystopian atmosphere that is similar to that of "A Clockwork Orange." Because of the beautifully implemented lighting, sound, and model-work, this decrepit city has a tactile, almost living quality to it - when a maintenance cover is lifted in an apartment, we hear an ominous breathing sound emanating from hundreds of ducts and wires like a creature from another world.

Strangely, I don't find the central plot all that interesting, or consistently presented; it essentially centers around Sam's efforts to fix a glitch in the system, despite the government doing everything, not necessarily on purpose, to sabotage him. Gilliam seems more interested in creating a purely visual experience with his film, rather than a completely coherent one with well-developed characters. Much of the film's running time consists of Sam's tangential adventures, which primarily center on his search for an androgynous woman, who may or may not be a terrorist, he has a crush on. We also witness Sam's dreams, in which he transforms himself into a winged warrior, which connects all parts of the film, and exteriorizes his desire to escape his confining world, a desire that ultimately comes back to haunt him in the end.

Rating: 8.5

First Viewed: 7/4/08, on DVD
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Shortbus

"Shortbus"
John Cameron Mitchell, 2006

This film starts off with a bang. In a literally orgasmic sequence, we witness many people, throughout New York, having all kinds of explicitly depicted sex. It is here that we meet the sex therapist, Sofia (Sook-Yin Lee), in the middle of having sex with her husband, who cannot achieve an orgasm, a depressed gay man named James (Paul Dawson) taping himself while he engages in auto-fellatio, and Severin (Lindsay Beamish), an antisocial woman who is using S&M on a client.

It's certainly a different way to open a film, and afterward, each of these characters, in a predictable manner, run into each other at Shortbus, a nightclub for people who wish to explore the boundaries of their own sexuality. The film's greatest accomplishment is its ability to make the sex look appealing and repulsive at the same time; we can understand why people would love and hate this kind of lifestyle. This depiction of sex, however, is at the expense of making the sex feel natural and meaningful; the film's over-the-top visual style and staging of the sex sequences quickly grow repetitive.

There is a strange, disjointed feel to the entire narrative, perhaps due to the fact that the characters and story were developed with the cast, that lessens the film's overall impact. This disjointedness is especially apparent in the narrative concerning James. We know that he is depressed and that he feels he cannot connect with his boyfriend, Jamie. "I see [Jamie's love]... all around me... but it stops at my skin. I can't let it inside," he says at one point. Yet the film never really delves into the character's internal turmoil; when James tries to commit suicide, his plight feels like an arbitrary plot development forced into place by the filmmakers. The film attempts to focus on the fact that each person is different, and that certain things turn them on and turn them off. But, armed with only a cursory insight into these characters, this is a film whose parts - pun intended - are greater than its whole.

Fun Fact: My friend's uncle, Tim Perell, was the producer of "Shortbus."

Rating: 6

First Viewed: 7/3/08, on DVD
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The Sand Pebbles

"The Sand Pebbles"
Robert Wise, 1966

The first five minutes of "The Sand Pebbles," which feature a grand orchestral arrangement over a black screen, immediately establish this film as an epic. The film, which portrays a transient engineer, Holman's (Steve McQueen), experiences on a U.S. gunboat in China, exhibits both the possibilities and the limitations of epic films.

For an epic, its characters are surprisingly nuanced and fascinating figures. Holman, who we learn has been transferred seven times over the last nine years, is openly racist towards the Chinese workers on the ship; and yet he must learn to cooperate with them in order to run the ship. It's an interesting character arc, and his relationship with a Chinese mechanic that he mentors is touching.

We also have the captain of the gunboat, a man who is more interested in his pride and, as an unofficial representative of the U.S., demanding that his ship appear strong, rather than on the well-being of his men or the Chinese. By film's end, the formerly-pristine ship has a decrepit, rusted appearance - a symbol of an imperial power's "good" intentions gone rotten.

But being an epic, this film has its share of flaws. There is a love story, between a Chinese woman and one of the engineers, played by Richard Attenborough, that is incessantly trite. When both of them die, one from an illness, the other at the hands of Chinese soldiers, the implications for Holman are so contrived - the Chinese blame him for killing the couple, and the sailors nearly rebel and send Holman to them - and then so quickly dismissed, that it's simply laughable. The film's three-hour running time also feels unnecessary; a shorter film would have helped to make some of the more interesting themes and characters all the more powerful. As it is, the film is merely a good epic.

Rating: 8

First Viewed: 7/3/08, on Blu-ray disc
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