 There're like three images on Google from the film, so here's one of them Director: Volker Schlöndorff Writer: Wolfgang Kohlhaase and Volker Schlöndorff Cinematographer: Andreas Höfer Producer: Arthur Hofer, Emmo Lempert, and Friedrich-Carl Wachs by Jon Cvack A strange washing over moment in our nation’s history was the rise of left-wing terrorism throughout the 70s with groups like the Weather Underground in the United States or Red Army Faction (RAF) in Germany, inspiring such narratives as Sydney Lumet’s Running on Empty (1988) Best Foreign Film Nominee The Baader Meinhof Complex (2009). While the Weather Underground never killed anyone through their bombings, the RAF murdered 34 people. It’s hard to fathom domestic political terrorism in the states today, not to say Mass Shootings can’t be connected to the idea or to discount Oklahoma City, but to imagine bombs being planted on a regular basis by an underground militia is a bizarre concept; something I imagine might receive significantly more action from the right than our current domestic terrorism issue at hand (I’m writing this a couple of weeks after the El Paso shooting). When hearing these stories I often try to think what it’d take for me to become weaponized; to turn my politics into violent action in order to prove a point that I hold dear. I already find extremism frightening when it comes in the form of words and tiki torches, let alone the rise in white supremacist attacks and promotion. While home for Christmas, my mother received a cryptic letter looking like it was written by a four-year-old. She thought it was funny and I smiled until she opened it and discovered a flyer for a KKK organization in Indiana. How they got our address is creepy enough, and then I see on Facebook that this stuff is floating all over the Midwest. Both far extremes contain hate in their hearts; where at a certain point it doesn’t matter whether it’s because of the color of a person’s skin or because of that person’s hate that the other believes murder is justifiable. I always wonder at what point such a shift occurs, knowing it exceeds even the wildest, most intense and heated political debates and toward direct, irrational action. What Volker Schlöndorff’s film asks is what does someone do after all of the mayhem? The Legend of the Rita involves Red Army Faction terrorist Rita Vogt (Bibiana Beglau) who carries out a series of bank robberies, kidnappings, and guerilla attacks in West Germany to continue the fight against capitalism. The group has been together for a while, going so far as to break Rita’s boyfriend out of prison, escaping to East Germany where they meet their benefactors who feel as though they’re battling Nazi Germany. Unfortunately, the change is slow, if not irrelevant, and Rita knows that the cause is dying. They either can continue to keep fighting, living a perpetual nomadic existence and hope they’re never caught, or give up and try and reintegrate into society. Having entered into my thirties, I’ve reached a strange crossroads in which I feel the idealism of my youth, in which I believed anything was possible both politically and professionally, has now faded a bit. The dream isn’t completely dead, but there is a demand to accept that there’s a very good chance my life will settle with the majority; the dreams of writing and directing remain, but I also know that to continue the pursuit means giving up what could potentially have devastating consequences in the future. I’ve given up seeing my parents and sister more than once a year; a good-paying job with benefits and that could help with retirement; and a life that might possess more opportunity to create memories through travel and adventure. I don’t mind the decision. I’d be a liar if I said it doesn’t cross my mind on a daily basis that maybe I should go get a regular job in order to provide for those other things that I’ve given up for the last seven years. I’m giving myself a decade to see where I get, though in full honesty I don’t feel like I’m all that close. And I’m sure that’s how many people feel. Some never trying at all, others giving it a year or two, some going longer. Not everyone can actualize their dreams as there are simply too few spots and too many people. Beyond the immorality, I understand committing yourself fully to something in the hope that it could result in something grander and then having to accept that it likely will not happen. In the case of Rita, it was seeing West Germany gain the upper hand as authorities close in on their organization. She volunteers to go back to East Germany, taking up the very occupation she despises in the capitalist system: working in a factory, operating as a cog in the machine, completing the same menials task for eight hours a day, making hardly enough to buy the booze that will help her forget the monotony. She befriends an alcoholic Tatjana (Nadja Uhl) whose mind has been rotted by the repetition. The two eventually fall in love until an old lover is killed and makes the news. She takes up another identity at a state daycare center where she meets a graduate student and pro-communist Jochen Pettka (Alexander Beyer). During a trip to the Soviet Union Rita meets a past RAF member who, similar to the Tatjana, is struggling under the commaunist rule. Quickly things start to fall apart, as the West Germany authorities work with the East Germans to find the terrorists; leaving them vulnerable in the land they were fighting for and Rita ultimately doomed. In Goodbye, Lenin! (2003) the filmmakers show a pair of siblings that try to save their communist mother from the oppressive Soviet regime by creating an alternative communist world in West Germany; essentially convincing her that she was still living under the state. It was one of the first films that demonstrated political relativism to me and the ways in which anyone desperate or impressionable enough can remain loyal to the most dangerous ideas. In the BBC documentary The Power of Nightmares (2004), the filmmakers show how religious extremism in any form can demand blind and dangerous obedience, whether on the Christian or Islamic Right. On Wikipedia, a user made an interesting editorial that Rita never despises the East German system; that regardless of her friends and loved ones who were struggling, she couldn’t accept that it was the better option against capitalism; and she was willing to die for that idea. While the film does a pretty good job of demonstrating the inner struggle of holding on to the end of a rope, it never really demonstrates why her loyalty remains so strong. Then again, what reason could there possibly be, other than providing some bizarre sense of purpose? In a time like this, when political tribalism is reaching an all-time, The Legend of Rita is a gripping example of where this form of blind obedience can lead; not just to the deaths, but to the slow decay of someone who’s so reluctant to work with others in order to try and create something better; in which the fear of change leads to doom. BELOW: Slim pickings on the YouTube, so here's a trailer Like what you read? 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 Shot nearly 20 years ago and still far far better than the Battle of Winterfell Director: Peter Jackson Writer: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson; based on The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien Cinematography: Andrew Lesnie Producer: Barrie M. Osborne, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Tim Sanders by Jon Cvack Continued from The Fellowship of the Ring... Hours before writing this I finished "The Return of the King" (1955) and am just as pissed that Peter Jackson left out the "The Scorching of the Shire" chapter as when I first finished the trilogy. It’s a book that’s sad to finish, as the world is so vivid and real that it hurts to realize there’s no more to discover. I’ve read "The Silmarillion" (1977) and I returned to "The Hobbit" (1937), and I know his son took some of his unfinished tales, but Tolkien himself had published nothing close to the quality of Lord of the Rings. It was his life’s work where you can feel how much time and craft he invested in creating the world. It reads like a great work of history, to which other works of history could find influence. The Two Towers takes place after The Fellowship disbands, with Frodo and Sam heading off on their own toward Mount Doom, separated from Merry and Pippin - who under orders from Saruman to grab and not harm any Hobbits - are taken by the orcs, leaving Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn to track them down, leading them to meet the Riders of Rohan led by Éomer (Karl Urban ), nephew of King Théoden (Bernard Hill), who mention the orcs they destroyed the night before. The trio heads over, and a needlessly silly scene takes place as they find nothing but burned orcs, thinking Merry and Pippin were thrown in with them by the riders, Aragorn screams and then sees a random divot in the ground and deduces that a Merry and Pippin must have fallen and then somehow escaped, leading them into the woods where they discover Gandalf the Gray has returned as Gandalf the White, and we get the second needlessly absurd idea of the film (and also the last). First, I don’t understand why they needed to look at a ditch in the ground and assume it was Merry or Pippin, when they could have been attracted into the woods by any others mean; such as seeing a bright light from Gandalf or something. Secondly, I still don’t fully understand Gandalf’s story, as it seems to enter into a strange Heaven/Hell like universe that’s never again addressed or explained, but somehow leads to Gandalf returning hundreds of years later, expressing how he was forced to live in the world forever after killing the Balrog monster. It’s better than cutting to him just catching a ledge of the cliff and hoisting himself up after falling into the fire pit, but it just never felt right. It was a bit too convenient to the story, but given how little it matters, it’s enough to be ignored (and given Game of Thrones endless reliance on magic every time it's in a plot pickle, this now seems insignificant by comparison). Merry and Pippin go on to meet one of the best characters of the series, Treebeard (actually voiced by John Rhys-Davey who plays Gimli). Given how long Ents have been around, they’ve developed a terrible habit of taking hours to express the simplest thought, such as greeting a fellow group of Ents, who agreed to meet and discuss attacking Saruman (Christopher Lee); reluctant until they discover Saruman had burned many of their friends (that is, the forest) to increase production for his war machine, so beginning one of the coolest battle sequences of any action-adventure film. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli get into the meat of the story, ending up at Rohan’s capital Edoras, where they discover King Théoden gaunt and seemingly on the brink of death. His mind has been corrupted by the amazing character of Wormtongue (Brad Dourif); Saruman’s minion deliberately sent to Edoras to corrupt the king. Wormtongue embodies today’s world of fake news, alternative facts, and misinformation, demonstrating how it easy it is to corrupt another by spreading fear and paranoia. It would have been so easy to have Théoden retain his regular image of a healthy and strong leader, but to have Wormtongue’s words be toxic enough to decay Théoden’s body is kiss your fingers perfect; such a simple idea and working magnificently. Gandalf goes on to save Théoden, and for a reason I can’t understand, then let’s Wormtongue go free, knowing how dangerous and powerful his sociopathy and loyalty to Saruman is. While I appreciate what it leads to, it does seem like a plot serving move, hiding behind a generic “Too much blood has been shed” defense; especially given how much blood each of them would go onto shed, not to mention the number of who Hobbits who will die (in the books) because of this decision. With Saruman’s gigantic army approaching, fueled by his slaughtering of the Fangorn Forest the thousands of Uruk-Hai are no match for Edoras. He orders his people and army to Helm’s Deep, located in the deep pocket of a mountain, meaning they can’t get flanked by the enemy, though they also have no chance of retreat. While the book only spends about twenty pages on this battle, Jackson spreads the scene out, creating one of the best medieval battle sequences since Braveheart ('95; and still better than the Game of Thrones' "Battle of Winterfell"), as again with excellent sound design, we watch as men of all ages are coated in arms, many who have never fought, all while the torches and deafening march approaches their position. While I really hope that they one day remove Legolas skateboarding down the hillside on an Orc shield, the sequence holds up extraordinarily well. And while it’s easy to judge that Gandalf’s last minute save relied far too much on coincidence, this is where I admire Tolkien’s spirituality, where given all of the detail, it's reasonable that characters would believe in faith over coincidence. While it’s here that the book and the movie most depart, with Shelob being saved for The Return of the King (the movie) and instead follows Frodo and Sam as they discover Gollum and later Boromir’s brother Faramir (David Wenham), who seems similarly tempted by the Ring. We get fantastic flashbacks in the extended editions of Faramir’s father Denethor (John Noble) and his greed for power. While Tolkien teases about man’s weakness, it’s the story of Denethor and Faramir that portray a vivid and honest struggle with what the ring could provide. It offers a reasonable moral dilemma - if facing no other options other than death or enslavement, a leader would likely feel a need to do anything to save their people, in which case Denethor was logical in desiring the ring to save Osgiliath. While I haven’t seen much of Game of the Thrones at the time of this writing (though I’ve now fully caught up), I have read the first book and it seems that both Denethor and Théoden, and even Aragorn all had a significant impact on the series, as what I failed to grasp as a fourteen year old was the extraordinary depth of characters these men were conveying, getting all the better in the final book. Of course we also see Frodo get weighed down by the Ring, both physically and mentally, and for as much of a swindler Gollum was, Frodo attested to his higher faith that they had to spare him for the role he’d go on to play. It’s here that the film fails to capture what is close to a year’s worth of travel since leaving Bag End. Frodo and Sam exchange some pleasantries and compliments, talking about how they’ll be hailed as heroes, until they’re too caught by Faramir who’s been looking for the ring, struggling over whether or not to take it before fully grasping the consequences of doing so. It’s difficult to write about a middle film, as it’s beginning the first which contains all of the history that led to the choice and the last film where you can finally discuss what it all means. It’s simply a fantastic movie, of which I’d probably put within the Top Five Greatest Home Video/Audio Experiences Ever. The Two Towers has a few CGI failures (though nearly as bad as Fellowship); in some scenes Gollum doesn’t at all blend with the frame, or when the Wargs attack in the beginning, the movement is so complex it just becomes muddy, making me again keeping my fingers crossed for a remastering. BELOW: One of the greatest battles ever to graze the screen Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of the 00s saddest scenes Director: Peter Jackson Writer: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson; based on The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien Cinematography: Andrew Lesnie Producer: Barrie M. Osborne, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Tim Sanders by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1 and Part 2... When the Fellowship fails to scale the Misty Mountains, they turn to the Mines of Moria, once ruled by Dwarves as they mined for the priceless Mithril. Outside, they face a pretty funny puzzle and killer Octopus, providing the worst scenes of that 25% of the CGI that completely fails as the creature attacks the fellowship, attempting to hide the detail with moonlight and water, and just looking like a giant video game monster. Doesn’t matter because it leads to the film’s greatest scene, as the Fellowship discovers the mines abandoned of Elves but filled with Orcs, Jackson achieves the finest balance of thrill and action, relying on an Orc drum beat to anticipate their approach. Up to this point, we haven’t seen an actual battle scene, not beyond the sword fight between the Ringwraiths. Here Jackson shines with his talents, taking us from the tomb to the various corridors, with the drumbeat ever playing, building up excitement for what’s to come next and how much greater it can get. While I was honestly taken out of the movie with the shitty Octopus, Jackson fully delivers with his VFX in the deep caverns with molten lava burning far below, with precarious massive staircases extending all the way down. When the Balrog comes, while needing a bit of a CGI polish, it caps off the scene with near perfection. I had always enjoyed the scene, but I never grasped how well crafted it was. I’d put this as one of top twenty five greatest scenes of all time, demanding to be watched with stellar sound and image, accomplishing the rare feat of making you hope, no matter how illogical, that things might be different for Gandalf this time around; that he would escape and continue to join the Fellowship and that they’d remain together. I’m not sure what goes on in the mind when this earnest hope for a impossible alternative reality takes place, but when Gandalf dies and the Fellowship mourns, I still get a bit moist in the eyes, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. The film then moves to Lothlórien where the Extended Edition drowns, as we get blue dreamy sequence after blue dreamy sequence, with Elves like Galadriel (Cate Blanchett) speaking in slow motion, feeling as though it’s all shot in close ups causing me to feel claustrophobic. I wish I could insert the theatrical release for this section, as this section really dragged, and while I believe the theatrical cut is a bit confusing with all of the flashbacks and slow motion talk, it at least played fast enough for me not to care. The remaining Fellowship leaves via river. Boromir tries to steal the Ring from Frodo who escapes off on his own, as more Orcs close in on their position, once again highlighting the frailty of men and providing one of the more gruesome murders to watch; especially for a PG-13 movie. It’s the closing scene that always sticks with me, as Frodo attempts to leave by canoe, abandoning the others, and Sam chases him down, nearly drowning. The score kicks in with the song is “The Breaking of the Fellowship” and even as I listen to it as I’m writing this, I get washed with that feeling of hope and anticipation; where not since a film like Back to the Future (1985) have I been so sad that it ended, forcing me to return to reality. While I could have probably done without the melodramatic drowning moment, hearing Sam declare that he’s going to stick with his friend also hits right in the heart. To see the connection between these characters which plays so true and entirely real is something, it’s clear that Tolkien had some thoughts on friendship, and which I could only surmise was based upon the bonds of war. As the movie faded I was immediately taken back, to a time before I was into movies, simply excited for the next film which I’d only know through television commercials and magazines, immersing me into a world unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve spoken of summertime blockbuster trilogies - The Dark Knight Trilogy, Back to the Future, Indiana Jones, and so on. Rare is the winter blockbuster trilogy or series (Star Wars, Harry Potter, etc.). The Fellowship of the Ring is a movie I could have just as easily started up all over again the moment the credits rolled. It’s escapism at its very finest - combining brilliant insights with an accessible and fully realized stories. It’s one of the all time greats that, because it can’t be franchised the same as Star Wars, Marvel, or DC, has lost some of its popularity. I bet soon enough it’ll again takes it position as one of the all time greatest in cinematic history.* *Coincidentally, only weeks after writing this, Amazon announced their ~$1 billion Lord of the Rings series is in the work. BELOW: For all the CGI faults, this some how still holds up well Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Great creepy bar scene Director: Peter Jackson Writer: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson; based on The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien Cinematography: Andrew Lesnie Producer: Barrie M. Osborne, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Tim Sanders by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... Counter and better than the books, the film opens up with the ring’s history, taking information that’s scattered across hundreds of pages and making it clear and concise, allowing us to understand exactly why it mattered. Failing to remember that this was made nearly twenty years ago, the first thing I notice was the CGI which just did not work at points. It embodies what I’ve been writing about on this site for years, in that the very nature of CGI is to push the technology to its brinks. I can appreciate what The Fellowship of the Ring accomplished given the year, but it’s a prime example of what a modern remastering could do for the film. We then head to the Shire, meeting the various hobbits and receive another rich history of the area through Bilbo Baggin’s (Ian Holm) narration as he attempts to write his novel. His 111th birthday is in a few days, and per Hobbit tradition (though not mentioned in the movie), he’s responsible for inviting everyone from The Shire - no matter how much he despises them; providing each with a present. Bilbo’s old friend Gandalf (Ian McKellen) has returned to town for the event, bearing fireworks for the kids, first meeting Frodo (Elijah Wood) who provides the latest town gossip. We go on to meet Samwise Gamgee (Sean Astin) and Pippin (Billy Boyd) and Merry (Dominic Monaghan), the latter pair being introduced much better than in the book (as I think it’s delayed by about fifty pages). It’s this opening scene that I most recall from childhood, having seen the film so many times in such a short period that its images are burned onto my brain. The Shire is a conservative place, resentful of change and suspicious non-Hobbits, and yet looking so serene and idyllic that I’ve yet to meet a single person who hasn’t at least once described their desire to live there. While Tolkien did say that the series’ closing chapter "The Scorching of the Shire" was based on the bombing on London, it’s described and captured in such a way that separates it from any particular place (at least that I know). I had forgotten how most of these hobbits are under four feet tall, with the group average hovering somewhere around 3’6”, which while no character looks so small, Jackson expertly framed them to pull off the gag (see below). What makes the series work so well is its use of such simple concepts to capture such terrifying and complex ideas. The Shire is a place of peace against an increasingly dark and dangerous world, which we know is slowly approaching, of which the Hobbits have no idea about or care to know. In the book, Frodo is 33 years old at Bilbo’s 111th birthday, and after receiving the ring, lives with it for seventeen years before Gandalf returns. I’m unsure why Tolkien decided to do this, other than that Tolkien was around 50 years old himself when starting the book, adding an additional layer of meaning, perhaps serving as an allegory to Tolkien’s own march toward death as he soon entered into his golden years. What it does best is provide logic to an otherwise complex timeline. While Jackson gets away with his lightening speed in making Sauron rise to evil and Saruman to follow, Tolkien imagined a world where it’d take nearly twenty years before the evil finally arrived at The Shire. Given that Frodo had the ring the entire time, there’s definitely humor in the irony - in that for all that was causing a great war and possible destruction of Middle Earth, it resided with one of the most ordinary creature’s imaginable. Gandalf explains that The Hobbit’s Gollum (Andy Serkis) had been captured by Sauron’s forces, tortured, eventually revealing the identity of Bilbo Baggins and where he lives. Sauron sends his seven Nazgûl Ringwraiths over to The Shire to find the Ring, providing one of the more fascinating histories within the film; in that, back when the One Ring was basically the executive device of broad hierarchy, in which the Elves, Humans, and Dwarfs all had a set of subservient rings which served their master, the seven humans who accepted their rings succumbed to the power, overtaken by the evil until doomed to serve Sauron for the rest of etertinity. While more men are introduced within the film, Tolkien’s cynicism is unyielding. As occurs throughout the film, it’s man’s lust for power and wealth that leads closest to their destruction. Wikipedia actually quotes one of the most chilling passages from The Silmarillion: Those who used the Nine Rings became mighty in their day, kings, sorcerers, and warriors of old. They obtained glory and great wealth, yet it turned to their undoing. They had, as it seemed, unending life, yet life became unendurable to them. They could walk, if they would, unseen by all eyes in this world beneath the sun, and they could see things in worlds invisible to mortal men; but too often they beheld only the phantoms and delusions of Sauron. And one by one, sooner or later, according to their native strength and to the good or evil of their wills in the beginning, they fell under the thraldom of the ring that they bore and of the domination of the One which was Sauron's. And they became forever invisible save to him that wore the Ruling Ring, and they entered into the realm of shadows. The Nazgûl were they, the Ringwraiths, the Úlairi, the Enemy's most terrible servants; darkness went with them, and they cried with the voices of death. — The Silmarillion, "Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age" Gandalf demands Frodo head off to destroy the ring. Having never left The Shire, Frodo hesitates, offering the ring to Gandalf and providing our first taste of its power, in one of the films most haunting scenes. Immediately the story shifts from a light hearted tales about an bucolic land full of adorable homes and fireworks and into a genuinely terrifying harbinger. Frodo heads up with Sam just as the first Ringwraith approaches, eventually meeting Merry and Pippin, and making their way out of The Shire. In a narrow escape, they make their way to Bree to meet Gandalf who hasn’t been around in over six months. There’s a scene in An American Werewolf in London (1981) where they enter The Slaughtered Lamb and the raucous place comes to a complete stop before a local explains the story about a werewolf. There’s a fantasy I have with this type of scene, where I imagine being with a close buddy on a road trip, getting stranded, and entering the same cryptic and ominous bar; providing the perfect dose of adrenaline that gets you excited with just a few grams of fear. They meet Strider (that is, Aragorn - Viggo Mortensen; Daniel Day Lewis was also offered the part…) who describes himself as a friend to Gandalf and there to escort them to the Elvin world of Rivendell. With the Ringwraiths closing in, the hobbits agree and they head off, eventually meeting the Ringwraiths where Frodo gets stabbed after putting on the ring, infected by the zombie/ghoul-like spirit, on the verge of falling into darkness. He’s rescued by Aragorn’s Elf lover Arwen (Liv Tyler) and they all return to Rivendell, where Frodo is saved and discovers Bilbo there, who still desires the ring (in the most film’s most terrifying moment). The actual Fellowship of the Ring is formed with Aragorn, a man Boromir (Sean Bean), an Elf Legolas (Orlando Bloom), and a Dwarf Gimli (John Rhys-Davies; who up until writing this I don’t think I’ve ever seen without the costume), and the four other hobbits. They agree to dedicate their lives in protecting Frodo as he throws away the ring, and head off.* It’s here that the Extended Edition begins to drag and it’s understandable why so much material had been left on the floor. Between Rivendell and Lothlórien, shot in a cheesy blue haze that just gets awful to look at after long periods of time, we learn of Aragorn’s history and connection to Arwen, though I couldn’t tell you many details as it's close to unbearably dense. *As a note, I read that one of the biggest alleged plot holes is that the Eagles (from The Hobbit) weren’t used to destroy the ring. I’m not sure why the Eagles would be exempt from the Ring’s power, given that they’re demonstrably super intelligent animals. So not sure this holds much weight. Continue onto to Part 3... BELOW: How Jackson made the Hobbits seem small Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Aside from some bad CGI in need of remastering, the film holds up well Director: Peter Jackson Writer: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson; based on The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien Cinematography: Andrew Lesnie Producer: Barrie M. Osborne, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Tim Sanders by Jon Cvack Reading The Lord of the Rings (1954) is one the most immediate and vivid memories I have when thinking back to high school winters. I hadn’t known about the books before the first film came out, and my earliest memory of the series being at the bargain theater near my house, located in an old and small mall with only a handful of stores remaining open, and a theater where your feet ripped like velcro from the sticky floors. My best friend Tim had completed the books before my other best friend Kevin and I even started. We were all in a band and Tim suggested the band name “Nine Fingered Frodo”, then laughing uncontrollably; something I didn’t fully understand but came close enough to figuring out the further I got into the last book. The race for second was between Kevin and I, and in an effort to avoid finishing before the other we made a pact to stay on the same pace, which he then lied to me somewhere during Return of the King. It wasn’t all so traumatic, as what I remember most are the days of Tim, Kevin, Kevin’s girlfriend, and I all heading to the local Barnes & Noble, where with Thanksgiving around the corner and just as the The Two Towers were coming out, it contained a gigantic displays of what seemed like countless versions of the books - complete volumes, soft covers, hard covers, spin offs and extensions tales, along with puzzles, games, and toys. We’d grab some of the items, order a hot chocolate, and take them back to some of the desks where we’d sit around and talk, mostly about Lord of the Rings. Nearly fifteen years later, I can’t remember many of the specifics that made that year’s Christmas so great, other than it was a mixture of those Barnes and Noble nights and that I received The Fellowship of the Ring Extended Edition DVD box set that contained the Argonath book ends amongst some other cool gifts. It was at work about a month ago that out of nowhere I had a random desire to return to the series. Admittedly, I rarely return to books, revisiting maybe one or two per year, if that. Lord of the Rings was an especially big commitment, as given the memory of how long it felt to read them, I figured it’d take over a month. I found a flawless paperback at a used book store and began the journey, immediately getting hooked and realizing the books transcended effort. The Lord of the Rings is the most vivid story I’ve ever read, as it’s only when you finish you realize that everything you had consumed was made up. At times it drags with details, and yet like any fascinating historical account, it all combines into a holistic and believable picture. To read about the separate groups and how their society’s operated and evolved and all of the characters’ genealogies and histories and how it all connects is unlike anything ever created, except for maybe A Song of Ice and Fire - which I’m sorry, but I just didn’t dig the first book, finding it way too complex and confusing (though knowing, if explained or after I got further into the series, that I’d very likely find it incredibly awesome and rich). I don’t read too much fantasy or sci-fi, but I’ve yet to read anything even remotely close to how perfect of a story Lord of the Rings is. I had also failed to see the entire trilogy since the craze had concluded back in 2003; nearly fifteen years ago. I’ve seen The Fellowship of the Ring more times than I can remember, The Two Towers maybe two or three times total, and The Return of the King only once. By the last film, although arguably the greatest, the obsession had faded. We stopped going to Barnes & Noble during Christmas as we started to discover girls and drinking. While rediscovering the novels and how incredible they are is a beautiful experience in itself, I was even more excited to return to the films with both my 65” UHD television, which as douchey as it sounds, is basically as close to a theatrical experience as I could afford and it has completely changed how I view and experience cinema. Getting a decent gig before winter break, I found an open box 4k UHD player at Best Buy, and with Cyber Monday occurring just weeks after I finished the first two books, I found the Blu Ray boxset for $26.00. I was going to return to the The Fellow of the Ring in its fully realized, four hour version with the best viewing experience possible (a UHD version of the trilogy was not yet available). Watching the supplements from the beginning, I learned that Tolkien in no way intended for the story to be an allegory, even declaring his resentment of allegories altogether. The issue is that, for a man who didn’t really write anything else, and having lived through the deadliest war ever fought, it’s tough to not see the connection to Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, and their totalitarian regimes. Saruman is Hitler, the Orcs are the Nazis, and the Ring is that which can grant power over the whole world. As time has settled, and have a greater understanding of Hitler’s place in history, you start to appreciate the story even more for what it embodied. What severed it from allegory was its extraordinary detail, allowing the reader/viewer just enough room to find personal meaning in the ring and where each character fit. It was also fairly obvious this time around that the Dwarfs and Elves are the French and British. Continue onto Part 2... BELOW: One of the all time greatest intros to a film Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Such a cute movie couple Director: Robert Zemeckis Writer: Clark Gregg; story by Sarah Kernochan and Clark Gregg Cinematographer: Don Burgess Producer: Jack Rapke, Steve Starkey, Robert Zemeckis by Jon Cvack I remembered always loving the first of the film, liking the second third and not at all enjoying the last third. I also remember going back to this movie thinking maybe I was wrong, being disappointed again, and I still I went back to the movie, feeling maybe this third or fourth time was the charm. Per usual it was received the same. Zemeckis would follow this misstep with a similar classical homage with Allied (2016), which is arguably his worst film. For those wondering why they can’t make movie like they used to from the 40s and 50s - whether Hitchcock or Curtiz - Zemeckis offers exactly what you see from the period, but adding more sex, language, and action than you’d usually find. The problem is that their somewhat disjointed plot stands in the way of the characters, in which even the greatest or more elegant camera work or movie stars could never save. The story is Hitchcockian through and through, involving a wealthy middle aged couple whose daughter has just gone off to college. The mom Claire Spencer (Michelle Pfeiffer) is struggling with the empty nest, especially as she had given her violinist career in order to raise the kid. Left with little to do all day as her famous husband Dr. Norman Spencer (Harrison Ford) spends most of his time in his laboratory, working on his next cutting edge research project. New neighbors have moved in next door and in a Rear Window (1954)-inspired first half (or however long this goes on), after hearing some fights and with some strange interactions with the wife, Claire begins to suspect the neighbor husband has killed his wife. It’s here that the movie works well, until you realize that it’s all a wild goose chase. Claire confronts the neighbor husband at a party, accusing him of murder, who then reveals his wife and that they were, in fact, just having some marital problems. The issue is that, come the end, when you realize that these characters are never reintroduced nor play any further role from this moment on, you can’t help but feel annoyed that this was just a bunch of empty filler to occupy the two hour and change running time and help prolong the creepiest sections. Somewhere throughout this paranoia, Claire begins seeing ghosts, verging between what seems like a hallucination to the full fledged supernatural, though at times, I’m never sure where what she was seeing actually resided. The ghosts take the form of a young beautiful girl, which she sees in the bathtub and then in the lake outside their house where she then grabs an actual key from the corpse that leads to some other information later on, leaving you to wonder, if not a hallucination, why she didn’t want to call the police and say she had found a dead body in the lake that she pulled a key from? This leads to the third leg of the plot, in which she discovers that Norman had an affair with a young graduate student. During the film’s most bizarre scene, Claire gets made up and puts on a sexy dress, seemingly possessed with the hopes of seducing Norman, who sees her eyes even change color. According to Wikipedia, Claire evidently had suppressed the memory of catching the two have sex, though I don’t remember this at all. It’s here that the film then shifts, as possession aside, Norman later admits to the affair, taking us into the final act in which, given all his research, he couldn’t possibly have the truth revealed, killing the student and now willing to kill Claire. The story descends into a generic thriller as we watch the husband try and kill the wife who we know will come out on top. The film made me consider the state of classical thrillers the Hitchcock pioneered. In the documentary De Palma (2015), we discover a man who struggled to progress the formula forward. While taking them to their limits in films such as Blow Out (1981), come the 90s, beyond Mission Impossible (1996), it seemed that all of the angles that could be pulled from the classical genre had been explored. He goes so far as to offer a fascinating dilemma he dealt with in being unable to think of new and cinematic ways to keep exploring the genre. What Hitchcock did so well is make it seem as though a supernatural force was at play when really it was about coincidence or a villainous character deliberation. When first watching Hitchcock back before I was into film, I remember expecting more ghosts and scares. Zemeckis seemed to have a similar idea, opting for more supernatural elements within the format. Unfortunately, what I imagine both Hitchcock and de Palma struggled with was in having an adequate explanation. We never know why Madison’s ghost appears, and it continues its role through the very end, relying on a generic cheating husband/paranoid wife feud which has been long overplayed. While I understand the neighbor function more as a homage, I suspect that if that story was better incorporated into the plot, if not the dominant focus, that the story could have worked much better. It’s a great film up until the final third, worth watching until that point, then becoming one of the more disappointing films you’ll see - at least compared to how strong it started out. BELOW: A very sexy scene that I'm still a bit confused about Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A perfect casting Director: Sean Penn Writer: Sean Penn; based on Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer Cinematographer: Eric Gautier Producer: Sean Penn, Art Linson, and Bill Pohlad by Jon Cvack My friend had been urging me to read Jon Krakauer’s book since he finished it, which I found at a thrift store while on vacation in Donner Lake. I’ve enjoyed the two other Krakauer books I’ve read - Into Thin Air and Under the Banner of Heaven, admiring his ability to seamlessly navigate between such a broad range of ideas, from motives to the philosophy to science or history. Into the Wild accomplishes the same, all the more impressive for its 200 and change page length. I had seen the movie when it first came out, excited for Sean Penn’s fourth feature film (I actually thought it was his first, in addition to an early film The Indian Runner ('91) starring himself and sounding pretty good, he directed Jack Nicholson in two other films - The Cross Guarding ('95) and The Pledge ('01)). I recall liking but not loving this film, seeing its main character Chris McCandless as someone far too close to my own age and therefore coming across as kind of an asshole. Eleven years later, although the film started out with a terribly cheesy credit sequence, I soon discovered a film about an idealistic and naive young man whose strong convictions combined with a complete lack of outdoor experience caused his quick demise. What the film fails to fully capture is the brief timeline of his journey, let alone his destination. The story spans just two years, where he dies within three months of reaching his end goal destination of Alaska. College is just around the time I noticed how quickly life was accelerating and by now two years is but a blink of an eye, and yet he was able to live such a wild and respectable adventure that it poses a fascinating question that I recall debating when I first saw it - was what McCandless did noble? While the book and film diverge in significant ways, with Penn rightfully forfeiting some of the most interesting sections of the book in order focus on the more engaging visual portions, it’s also some of the best supporting material to help understand the question. Krakauer compares McCandless to numerous others throughout American history, all similar in age, who all felt a peculiar yearning for adventure and taking oneself to the limits of mortality. The reasons verge from grand political missions such as forfeiting all dependence on any government or person, to those who wanted to live a grand life of adventure. Jon Krakauer tells his own story about being a young kid who went climbing up a mountain alone in a remote region of the world, where due to pure luck he was able to be saved before starving to death, failing to climb the mountain, though not for a lack of going far further than he should have. It’s by telling these stories and learning of the broad range of reasons and purpose that Krakauer puts it on us the reader to decide where Chris resided on the spectrum. He was a smart kid, who was well read, and yet also referred to himself as “Alexander Supertramp”, wrote subpar poetry and, counter to Krakauer and the others, had little outdoor experience. The issue is that, having grown up in the suburbs, he had no control over his experiences. It was through reading Walden and Emerson and Jack London that he grew inspired to take a similar journey, demonstrating the vast power some books contain. Ideas of serious thinkers and phenomenal writers were enough for Chris to abandon what could have been a fulfilling and relatively comfortable life for most other people. It’s that alienation that I think most creative or outdoorsy types can relate to; wanting to surround yourself with something more meaningful and beautiful, and dealing with an environment where it’s increasingly more difficult to do that. To think Chris had the courage to at least try and live those ideas, however naive, is something that deserves respect. Unfortunately he was too young to know any better. Chris’ sister Carine (Jena Malone) narrates the entire story, taking us through Chris’ graduation and without a word to his parents or Carine, burns all forms of ID, donates his life’s savings and graduate school funds to charity, hops in his car, and drives to Lake Mead where his car gets caught up in an harbinger of a flash flood, where he then abandons his ride and proceeds to hitchhike to Northern California where he meets up with and couple and trailer nomads Jan Burress (Catherine Keener) and Rainey (Brian H. Dierker) who’re struggling in their silver years. Jan takes a particularly strong liking to Chris, clearly seeing herself as a mother figure, who while we never know the details, can safely surmise that the possibility of children has passed, as the realities of their life decision have begun to take effect. Without heading into maudlin monologues about what they’ve learned throughout their years of travel, we understand their awareness. It is the life that Chris is headed toward, which perhaps not seeming all that bad, makes more meaningful relationships difficult, especially under the strain of tight quarters and little money. Later, Chris heads to South Dakota and meets up with satellite television pirate Wayne Westerberg (Vince Vaugh; in one of his better roles). Eventually Chris reaches the Colorado River, and in the most supportive moments of Chris’ cause, deals with a park ranger who informs him that there’s a year and half waiting list for those wanting to kayak down the river. While I'm sure a mixture of government bureaucracy and what I’m sure is nobly intentioned environmental concerns, the fact that a person can’t freely travel a river when they want is absurd and Chris is aware of that, using his little funds to buy a kayak and journey down without a pass. Soon he meets a pair of sexy European travelers who invite him on a new trip, though after agreeing, a ranger is heard around the bend and Chris is forced to leave and hide in order to avoid getting a fine or going to jail. I was left wondering where he might have ended should the ranger not have come at that particular moment and whether he would have met the same fate. A scene that has long stuck with me is Chris’ return to Los Angeles, where his complete lack of funds and dependence on train hopping leads him to downtown and then to skid row where he’s fortunate to get a cot for the night amidst the record numbers of homeless people who’re forced to wait in the long lines with no guarantee. He tours the city, people watching, looking through restaurant windows and seeing himself and what could have been, getting overwhelmed into a borderline panic attack that he decides to hitch his way out immediately. Living in Los Angeles, I can only imagine what it’d be like to arrive with a gross antagonism to the idea of cities, as for a place that likes to consider itself liberal, has one of the most significant inequality problems in the nation; a contradiction that I’m sure contributed to Chris’ flighty exit. Soon he ends up in Salton City where he meets one of the story’s most interesting characters, Ron Franz (Hal Holbrook); a man who lost his wife and son in a tragic accident, turning to whiskey for years before kicking the habit altogether. What the movie doesn’t explain is the Salton City’s history, which was meant to be another posh desert getaway per the likes of Palm Springs and failed to develop, leaving people like Ron with a nice home with little community beyond the hundreds of hippies that have journeyed out there in the hopes of living off the grid and building their own community. Like Jan, Ron grows fond of Chris, feeling as though he’s a son, inviting him into his home, and while the two share time together, they eventually part ways in one of the film’s most devastating scenes. Chris ends up in Alaska and while there are moments of what appears fun and thrilling, also seems incredibly lonely, in which only by the mind going slightly crazy can one deal with the solitude. Humans are inherently social creatures; a fact that’s used to argue against solitary confinement due to the long term effects it can have on the mind. While I’m not sure if this could or did contribute to Chris’ poor judgment of eating toxic seeds (as the film and book demonstrate, they looked strikingly similar), what community does do is provide assistance with mistakes, either to help others avoid them, or to assist after they’re made. One of the most fascinating parts of the book (that film for some reason excludes) is how there were a couple ranger cabins within a mile or so of Chris’s camp, or that he if he walked a mile up the river he could have found refuge. One of the cabins had actually been trashed, and while the rangers do not suspect McCandless, it does leave you wondering if he was just too stupid, scared, or stubborn to venture much further than his bus. I’m sure there were areas of thick growth, but even under tough terrain a mile could be walked in about half an hour, and while walking in the exact direction of the cabin is less likely, not wandering at least a mile up the river to look for a clearing, knowing food would grow more scarce and you would grow weaker, made little sense to me. It’s a film that felt like the complete mirror the second time around, in which I saw it all from everyone else’s perspective. I respect and in small ways admire McCandless’ courage of his convictions and yet it was his selfishness in abandoning his family and all those he met who loved him that creates resentment, as he was so committed to his life and ideals at the cost of hurting so many others, it leaves you wondering what he was hoping to achieve. Bliss for him and pain for everybody else. At the same time, now being almost a decade from that I age, I recall the utter selfishness it contains, which can feel almost uncontrollable at times. He died before he ever progressed beyond that stage; before his mind could ever fully grasp the ideas he read and the larger implications they could create. This time I saw a film that was very much a coming of age story, and through taking place over just a few years, outshining most other lives by comparison and ending so tragically, it can stand pretty tall amongst most of them. BELOW: I bet this scene gets better the older I get Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Was trying to find a cool Gotham City/Chicago hybrid image, but its slim pickings on the Google front Director: Christopher Nolan Writer: Christopher Nolan and David S. Goyer Producer: Charles Roven, Emma Thomas, and Larry Franco Cinematographer: Wally Pfister by Jon Cvack Throughout junior high and during the first couple years of high school I use to kick off most summers with the Indiana Jones trilogy, starting the series in June and ending before the fourth of July. I recall hot summer mornings, with the air conditioner running high, and my mom coming in and out of the house, refilling her water as she floated in the pool (she was a special ed teacher). Before Indiana Jones it was Star Wars, inspiring to me to head straight to my toys and act out stories from its universe. And of course Back to the Future (1985) was a movie I remember from my earliest days of cinema, going so far as to provide a very distinct melancholy when I initially finished the trilogy, knowing that the story had concluded and that I could no longer live in the world; distinctly sad that such a story could never be possible. The thing all of the great trilogies have in common is their ability to transport the viewer across approximately nine hours of time, all of which should be new and thrilling to watch - a limitation that relatively low budget television is simply unable to accomplish. A great summertime trilogy is filmmaking of the highest order, creating content that is loved by all - both lovers of cinema and the general moviegoing public. There are of course single films that provide the same - Jaws, Jurassic Park, The Goonies, Stand by Me, etc. - but an entire action/adventure trilogy where the worst film is one of the greatest compared to most of its peers, is an incredibly rare accomplishment. Having craved these types of films over the last few summers, The Dark Knight Trilogy has earned an equal position on the pedestal. I don’t rush to these films as I’m now so precious about over watching certain classic movies that, like a fine bottle of whiskey, I take them in small doses; often years apart. Having just seen Dunkirk and catching Interstellar in the theater for a second time, I’ve admired Nolan’s commitment to realism, as it functions almost as a foil to Spielberg, with the pair both achieving equally impressive work with complete different styles. Nolan’s Batman is someone who took on a Christ-like story of returning after a long period of meditation, hardship, and training, ready to live his mission in life. I was surprised to see Christopher Nolan was only thirty years old at the time of production, as I swear the guy looks to be in his forties. Christian Bale embodies the spirit of who I consider Batman (though I do hope Michael Fassbinder one day gets the chance to try it out). I think of all the other ways it could have gone, getting a more traditional dark and attractive man, and how easily the story could have become gaudy. The same goes for the rest of the cast - Liam Neeson, Gary Oldman, Cillian Murphy, Tom Wilkinson all take on relatively supporting roles, sinking into them with such ease that I forgot how incredible the ensemble was. Like Nolan, Katie Holmes embodies the spirit of Rachel Dawes, providing my one major criticism of the trilogy when she was replaced by Maggie Gyllenhaal. Growing up with Dawson’s Creek, which I still think is her best work, this role was a close second. Like any great film the story takes on political significance, serving as a harbinger, if not a looking glass self to its Chicago setting. Gotham City has been overrun with corruption and crime, controlled primarily by mob boss Carmine Falcone (Wilkinson) who’s got the majority of police and the court on his payroll. Rachel Dawes watches as power is increasingly grasped and exploited, especially in the courts as they once again allow psychologist Jonathan Crane (Murphy) to send another murderer to the psychiatric hospital, pleading insanity. While it’s never specifically mentioned (not even in the comic book from what I recall), there’s an impression that Bruce Wayne’s father had a significant/informal role in managing the city, leaving me wondering why he wasn’t just the mayor, kind of like an altruistic version of Donald Trump. Thus when murdered and Wayne Enterprises is controlled by the Board of Directors, it’s clear that their commitment to the community is displaced by a determination to make themselves rich by making the company public. Bruce’s return comes amidst the chaos, as he hopes to take all he learned about the criminal underworld in order to apply it toward battling the enemy. He utilizes the Military R&D department with the help Lucius Fox (Freeman) in order to gain access to the equipment he requires, assembling his bodysuit, tools, weapons, and of course, the batmobile, all while preparing a base with the help of Alfred (Caine) in the underground cave system beneath Wayne Manor. While Alfred is wary of the risk, he demands that Bruce at the very least make public appearances; to which Bruce abandons his charm in favor of a lewd persona in order to curtail any suspicions that he might be Batman. We learn that Jonathan Crane is the Scarecrow after he betrays his arrangement with Falcone, putting on the mask and giving us a first taste of the absolute fear it commands. While I had once been turned off by the VFX, knowing their position in the complex plot, I now found Nolan’s balance between artificial and practical effects incredible; especially when Batman turns the poison on the Scarecrow who sees the Batman as a charred skin demon, expectorating black sludge with every word. It’s assisted by the fact that Nolan seemed to have known that this film was all about setting up the universe in order to provide us one of cinema’s greatest sequel by drifting from exposition and into character, all before moving onto the relatively weakest final film of the series (though still a great movie), which also had the greatest action sequences (brought about by its ~$250 million budget; $100 million more than Batman Begins). We learn that Crane had worked with Falcone’s men to steal a shipment off a barge that was due for Wayne Enterprises - the military division specifically - which was able to convert all water to steam across miles of piping, allowing the Scarecrow to pour hundreds of gallons of his fear potion into the water supply and take the weapon to the middle of Gotham’s lower class denizens whilst releasing Arkham Asylum’s most dangerous and psychotic criminals. WIth repeated viewings allowing me to recall more details from the other films, the idea of chaos versus purpose extends across all of the films. While I’d have to watch The Dark Knight Rises (2012) again to retrieve the proper details, The Dark Knight’s (2008) Joker simply wanted to watch the world burn. Scarecrow gives the same impression, until we learn that it was Bruce Wayne’s instructor Ra’s al Ghul’s (who trained him to join the vigilante League of Shadows) intention to destroy Gotham in order to put an end to all of the crime and corruption. Similar to his demand for Bruce to behead a convicted murderer, Ra’s al Ghul wants Batman to understand that his city is past saving. Just as Bruce refused to kill the convict, he also refuses to watch Gotham destroy itself. Unfortunately I can’t recall and cannot find exactly what Ra’s wanted from Scarecrow, but Scarecrow gets away while Ra’s is killed in an absolutely brilliant El-train sequence - which is all the more impressive having been from Chicago and watching the ways Nolan’s utilized the city. One of the greatest features of Batman is his stoicism combined with absence of superpowers. We never get the impression that he actually likes people other than Alfred, Gordon, and Rachel. His commitment is toward eradicating the evil that led to his parent’s death, not necessarily because it’ll keep Gotham safe (though he might say it), but mostly because it'd make him feel vindicated. In some ways the film plays as a nightmare (or maybe Hell, in sticking with the biblical structure) - looking at one man’s life of pain and alienation whilst endlessly battling against great forces of evil; unable to ever fully escape his fate. It’s the reason I don’t want to get into the comics, as the seemingly infinite scope would never end, and yet it’s what makes Nolan’s trilogy so perfect. It’s a novel length version of the rise and fall of Batman. BELOW: An incredible Chicago/Gotham City hybrid Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Crazy how in a matter of about two years this went from being one of the most terrifying images to one of the cheesiest Director: Gore Verbinski Writer: Ehren Kruger; based on Ring by Hiroshi Takahashi and Ring by Koji Suzuki Cinematographer: Bojan Bazelli Producer: Walter F. Parkes and Laurie MacDonald by Jon Cvack Now that we’re less than a couple years away from finishing out this decade, popular movies from the 00s are starting to take on a more distinctive style. I hadn’t seen The Ring since high school, where it’s terror spread by word of mouth, with many agreeing it was one of the scariest movies they’d ever seen. Still a coward to horror at the time, heading to the theater to avoid missing out on the event took a bit more motivation than usual. While I couldn’t remember my reaction or any specific details, like most I was horrified and kept awake long into the night by the image of the contortionist girl crawling out of the television. I tried returning to the film back in college, unable to finish it, as by then the film had become parodied and replicated ad nauseam that it fell victim to what happens when transitioning out of any filmic phase - it felt boring and uninspired. The Matrix-like, desaturated greens and blues were adopted by countless other films, across a range of genres, and by the middle of the decade the look was completely played out. Fifteen years later, the look is now associated with the decade. While the film isn’t perfect, it’s also far from what I remembered and expected, serving as much more a surrealistic mystery film than countdown murder movie. Remembering it as cheap and shallow, I found it smart and complex, whose flaws were apparent, but in no way diminished the narrative. Only able to watch the first half I had that rare experience of wanting to fight through Sunday’s bedtime and my exhaustion in order to see where it was going. The story involves a mysterious videotape whose origin I didn’t fully understand, discovering that the Wikipedia page doesn’t have an explanation either, forcing me to a Wiki page which explained that in the original film the tape was made by Samara, who after being thrown in a well by her mother and dying after seven days, possessed or developed the power of nensha (aka thoughtography), which allows a person to burn images from one’s mind onto photographs, canvasses, or film. It was a particularly big idea in Japan during the 20th century. It therefore makes sense that The Ring would have such difficulty conveying this fact (if it even tried at all; as I don’t recall any explanation). Unfortunately, when you really think about this shortcoming, you realize how big of a plot hole it is, as we do not in any way understand what brought all this about. It opens on the film’s most terrifying and popular sequence, involving two girls at a sleepover discussing an urban legend about a mysterious tape made years ago that kills the person seven days after they watch it. One then admits she watched the tape seven days prior, soon getting killed and driving the other girl insane. A Seattle Journalist Rachel (Naomi Watts) is hired to investigate the strange death, soon coming across the tape, watches it, learns about the seven day limit, and enters into a journey to discover how it came about and who's involved. Similar to The Blair Witch Project released just three days prior, though arguably beginning with Haneke’s Benny’s Video in 1992, the story provides a fascinating examination of analog versus digital formats. Now that VHS tapes have officially entered into the vintage category, this film captures the format’s death nail. By 2004, VHS sales would essentially be void, dominated by the rise of the DVD. In 2002, they were fractions of home video sales, providing a fitting tool for where an apparition would render their thoughtographies. Aided in the discussion is Rachel’s ex-boyfriend Noah (Martin Henderson) who has his own “A/V” business - which is cheesy to say, but it’s never specified what he exactly does, though he does know how to slow down the playback and print freeze frames, perhaps even speaking to the medium’s overall limitations, both in quality and durability. It also speaks to the film’s reliance on imagery. Expanding beyond Samara’s infamous crawl from the well is that of the Rachel’s determination to unravel each of the shots from the film, all in an effort to track down the truth and learn about the tape’s origin. The images transcend the infamous Samras crawling from the well, including a black horse, a randomly placed ladder, a shot aimed directly into an old mirror, a strange woman, and a fly that seems to bounce in and out of the frame. While playing like a pretentious student film (and offering the movie's most poorly aged element), each of these images eventually makes it way into Rachel’s reality, with the horse offering the most thrilling sequence, minus a bad CGI effect of it falling off the ferry and into the bay. While I’ve had problems with surrealists like Alain Resnais and Luis Buñuel, The Ring skirts the limits of patience, providing just enough explanation before heading into meaningless frustration (minus failing to explain how the tape got made). It was exciting to anticipate when and how the elements from the tape would arise in the film, abandoning the sepia tone in favor a the dreary Seattle streets and seasides. My largest problem involved Rachel’s peculiar son Aidan (David Dorfman), with the filmmakers appearing to be far more concerned with providing their own rendition of the Creepy Kid than plausibility. Looking up his peers, I was shocked to see Aidan topping out Buzzfeed’s ranking of the "Creepiest Kids in Horror Films", beating out everyone from The Omen’s ('76) Damien to Poltergeist’s ('82) Carol Anne. The complete lack of explanation as to why this kid acts so strange toward his mother makes the entire character seem unnecessary, serving no purpose than fitting the archetype. This isn’t to disparage Dorfman’s performance, who seems to deliver each line without a single blink of an eye. Rather, his inclusion seemed based entirely on the eerie concluding scene, in which Aidan reveals that he had watched a copy of the tape, forcing Rachel to make a copy of a copy to start an ostensible chain letter, in which the seven day death is foregone should someone else watch it. The ending seems deliberately designed for a sequel, foregoing reason and explanation and diminishing The Ring’s position in the horror pantheon. Between the lack of explanation for the tape and strange rules which apply, while creepy in the immediate sense, upon further reflection it makes you all the more frustrated; wishing they could have foregone a few sequences in order to provide some - any - information as to why and how. Nevertheless, it’s a fun film that captures the essence of the decade, and just as other popular horror films from their respective periods didn’t necessarily make complete sense, these shortcoming - while glaring - are easy to ignore in favor of a pretty fun mystery/horror film hybrid. BELOW: A great surrealistic which I wish they cut out of before showing the horse floating Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One the greatest use of frame in a horror film Director: Bryan Bertino Writer: Bryan Bertino Producer: Doug Davison, Roy Lee, Nathan Kahane, and Sonny Mallhi Cinematographer: Peter Sova by Jon Cvack I haven’t seen this movie since it first came out in 2008. It was one of the first films from the “Home Invasion” subgenre, fresh off the heels off the torture porn of Saw, Hostel, etc. which was fading fast. Similar to The Blair Witch Project ('99) - where eight years later Paranormal Activity would pick up the genre, sparking a fusillade of found footage films - The Purge ('13) would arrive five years later to staggering success (pulling in ~$90 million against the film’s $3 million budget). It would utilize what would become tropes of the genre: creepy, yet innocuous-in-themselves masks which, when placed upon a bunch of killers that are hoping to slaughter the people inside a home, would even prove effective. It continued the tradition kicked off by Scream ('97) nearly two decades ago; abandoning the supernatural in favor of the actual; abandoning the exotic locations and instead turning to the suburban home where a group of lunatics harass and then murder whoever’s inside. Cloverfield had actually arrived the same year as The Strangers, offering an equally strong first act. In Cloverfield’s case about a going away party thrown by a guy who wants to confess his love for the girl going away. In The Strangers’ case it’s about a guy who proposes to a girl who rejects him for reasons unknown. And while neither is that interesting, they’re both well made enough to distract you from the fact that you’re watching a horror film. In both films, I recall sitting there, taken away by the two love stories before any of the thrills begin which then snapped me back to the story’s purpose. The Strangers opens with James (Scott Speedman) and his girlfriend Kristen (Liv Tyler) who’ve just returned from a wedding (not their own), where through the power of showing rather than telling (a rare accomplishment for a genre which, beyond the exposition, relies entirely on this fact and yet somehow fails to “show” the exposition time and time again). Granted, The Strangers relies on a few flashbacks, but they’re so subtle it’s excusable. One is particularly great, in which you see the power of framing to make an event feel larger. Although the pair is at a wedding, there is tight medium shot of Kristen at a wedding, sitting at the table where we’re unable to see who she’s talking to. She laughs and laughs while we don’t hear a word, until James comes up, feeling awkward for being excluded from the joke. Later he proposes, breaking what seems like an unspoken rule at a wedding (that is, don’t propose at another’s wedding). James had a whole night planned for Kristen back at his parent’s place where he had champagne on ice and roses leading up to the bathtub. Why James thought the most romantic place to take his hopeful fiancé was his parent’s house in the suburbs is beyond me. The best I can do is say maybe that’s a point to be made about James and why Kristen had rejected him. Why would she ever marry a man who on one of the most consequential nights of a romantic relationship, the guy takes her to his parents house in the burbs? Luckily this didn’t really hit me until I was thinking about the film much later, and while not as powerful as the first time, again I was swept away by the narrative until that first pound at the door arrived. I had recently upgraded my setup and realized in the process that my Roku player doesn’t offer anything beyond 1080p and can’t provide 5.1 audio, and for a 4k television with a 5.1 setup, I was excited to see how it played out. Unfortunately, my television’s Amazon app wasn’t working, forcing me to have to go back to the Roku and not just forfeit the image, but far more tragically, the surround sound; as once these knocks started happening I couldn’t stop thinking how much cooler it could have been. In the middle of this fairly heartbreaking end to a relationship, James leaves to go buy Kristen some cigarettes and she’s left alone, where moments before they received a strange visit from a girl asking if someone was at the house. This is based off director Bryan Bertino’s own past experience, where a person came to his house once when he was young and home alone, asking if someone was home that Bryan didn’t know. The next day him and his family learned there were a series of robberies in the area. In this case, after James leaves, the girl returns, pounding the front door in what is one of the greatest horror movie sounds ever created. In the film’s greatest shot, we see Kristen standing in the foreground of the kitchen with a dark, soft muddied background behind her as another figure with a burlap sack mask eases into frame, to the point where you wonder how long he was there before you noticed. James eventually returns, with Kristen thinking he’s one of The Strangers who’ve broken into the house, and of course he then wants to handle it, failing to grasp the extremity of the situation. The movie culminates at the moment when James grab his dad’s gun, hiding in the guest bedroom with Kristen, waiting to kill whoever’s entered. Earlier James had called his best friend and explained the situation, and when the friend’s car has a rock thrown through the windshield when he’s calling James to come out, the friend heads in, featuring the song “Mama Tried” playing high, where we know exactly where it’s going. However, this time around, I realized it could have worked a bit better a different way. The problem is that we know that the friend is going to get shot, leaving me to imagine if the camera followed the stranger walking down the hallway, with the cell phone ringing across the room, the audience having no clue the friend even arrived, leading James to shoot who he and we think is the stranger, but in fact, is his friend. Instead of the tension falling on when the gun will go off into what would happen if the stranger gets killed. The movie drops off a bit after the scene and keeps falling until leveling just above average by the end. A bit confused, I had to look up what happened after, which includes James telling Kristen about a HAM radio in the shed outback, which even to type out feels kind of absurd. Again, the problem isn’t even the idea of using a HAM radio so much as never including the audience in on that fact, and therefore feeling very much like “...and then” plot device. Even if there was a mention about how the dad was an air force and/or amateur radio operator could have made it at least fit (albeit not that well, but better). The last twenty five minutes become kind of muddy at the point, and it’s only when we see the two Mormon boys riding their bikes, with the strangers asking for one of their brochures, declaring that it’ll be easier next time that I was left feeling satisfied. In terms of the longest delay to a sequel, especially for a movie that made 9x it’s budget, this has to be a record as the sequel hasn’t come out until this year; though unfortunately it looks like a straight to Redbox. I’ve been considering what these films mean in the grand scheme of things; in which a group of masked strangers, often white and seemingly middle class, decide to break into a house to torture and murder a bunch of innocent people. Perhaps it’s the Tea Party and the fear of the other, yet the ethnicities behind the masks don’t line up. Maybe it’s the increasing amount of pro-gun laws, such as Stand Your Ground or Man Your Castle, in which the contradiction of the two seems to be missed by those who demanded them, as though they’re anxious to finally get to use their toys. Another version is that the films reflected an increasingly connected world. It’s a fascinating movement that seemed to have lasted only for a flash compared to so many others. BELOW: A spectacular scene which has the rare ability to be just as effective from another perspective Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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