 One of the coolest characters of this century Director: Quentin Tarantino Writer: Quentin Tarantino Cinematographer: Robert Richardson Producer: David Heyman, Shannon McIntosh, and Quentin Tarantino by Jon Cvack I haven’t revisited many of Tarantino’s films after Kill Bill (2003/2004). I’ve watched the opening scene of Reservoir Dogs (1992) more times than I can remember, I’ve seen Pulp Fiction (1994) so many times it’s now lost its magic, Jackie Brown (1997) gets better and better with age, and Kill Bill is arguably his magnum opus - and if not his best film, at least his most technically proficient (though my favorite remains Reservoir Dogs). The first time I noticed a magic had been lost was with Death Proof (2007). Revisiting the extended version a couple years ago (which is nearly two hours long), I enjoyed the story more than the first time (likely due to the longer running time), yet something felt missing. Whatever holistic universe Tarantino had created up to that point felt mostly absent. From there he made Inglourious Basterds (2009) which is by far the best of his post-Kill Bill filmography; though even that film I haven’t gone back to more than a couple times, serving as the first Tarantino film that took place beyond his hard boiled world, followed by Django Unchained (2012) and The Hateful Eight (2015); the latter which I liked a lot but struggled to finish on a second viewing, the former I’ve failed to see again, not because I don’t like it but because if I’m in the mood for a Tarantino film I’m probably going to grab one of his first five movies instead. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.. continued this shift, following an ailing movie star and his stunt buddy/body double who becomes - for the most part - tangentially involved with the Manson murders. It was the type of plot that got you excited for what Tarantino would do; both for offering his vision of 1960s Los Angeles and Hollywood when movies remained the pinnacle of culture and the Vietnam War led to a counter culture that would one day be corrupted by a murderous cult leader, Charles Manson Manson. A few years back I’d read Bela Lugosi’s Helter Skelter (1974) - a detailed historical account, widely considered the definitive book on the Manson murders. From Manson’s self-comparison to Jesus in Haight-Ashbury to his friendship to Beach Boy Danny Wilson to his recruitment of estranged hippie girls and their use of LSD to his move to Death Valley where he prepared for what he believed was an inevitable race war - at 600 pages, the story is truly incredible and arguably the most gripping true story in a century. Granted, Tarantino’s film isn’t necessarily about the Manson murders, and for what it does include, his film’s not wrong for focusing on the Hollywood portion. Nevertheless, given that it’s Quentin fucking Tarantino - an individual who is an encyclopedia of pop knowledge, you can’t help but feel disappointed in how little of the history is explored. The film opens up with an interview on the set of the television series Bounty Law between actor Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his stunt double and driver Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). From the get go, there’s something stilted about the conversation; feeling as though the lines are being performed rather than the natural flow of Tarantino’s typical opening dialogue. It might have been the point; in having two characters act for the goofy interviewer, maybe even playing as a joke, but the night after watching this I pulled up the opening Reservoir Dog scene and was hooked for the whole twelve minutes; where each character felt real and saying the lines in the moment. I still don’t know how this works given how goofy the situation is. There was a rawness and love for the rough, bizarre, and unattractive; a willingness to show people we have never seen. With Bounty Law over, Dalton fears for his career, developing a drinking problem as a result. Dalton and Cliff head to a local lounge for a couple drinks where they meet agent Marvin Schwarzs (Al Pacino), warning Dalton that he’s now becoming a “heavy man”; that is, an actor who only serves to be the television villain that gets killed or arrested. And as he ages, those roles could increasingly dry up. Schwarzs recommends Dalton get involved with the Italian spaghetti westerns craze over in Italy. Dalton finds the idea appaleing; seeing them as little more than B-movies, if that. Cliff hasn't been hired as a stunt double in some time, both because of Dalton’s limited work and since he’s burned his contacts after rumors spread that he killed his wife. He lives in a trailer with a pitbull named Brandy and a comparable drinking problem to Dalton. Dropping Dalton home one night, they see director Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate pulling up to their house next door; exciting Dalton for the chance that it could help his fledgling career. The next day Cliff sees who we surmise is Charlie Manson walking up to the Polanski house. After seeing a cute hippie girl (Margaret Qualley) around town, Dalton later goes to the set of The Wrecking Crew where he’s once again the heavy man and tries to get Cliff on as a stunt coordinator for Randy’s crew (Kurt Russell). Randy refuses because rumor has it that Cliff killed his wife, but Randy soon gives in and later Cliff gets in a fight with Bruce Lee on the neighboring set of The Green Hornet which is a weird scene in which Cliff looks to be about to kick the shit out of Lee until Randy appears and puts an end to it; firing him. The scene is a perfect example of Tarantino’s biggest weakness since Kill, in which he offers tangential scenes that seem to have nothing to do with the plot; once reserved for dialogue that had nothing to do with the characters, but with characters that were very much involved with the plot. Dalton leaves and finds the hippie girl hitchhiking and offers her a ride home, learning her name is Pussycat. She comes on strong, offering to repay him with sexual favors to which Cliff demands an ID, settling on letting her lie her head in his lap while he drives her off to the Spahn Ranch on the city edges. Spahn Ranch is an old western set, true to the Manson stories, which Cliff of course knows about with his past work; specifically the owner, George Spahn (Bruce Dern). Dalton is then back on the set of Lancer, playing the heavy man opposite the show’s lead James Stacy (Timothy Olyphant); who for some reason looks like a complete dork, playing a clean cut sheriff, which I guess was the point, but seemed completely wrong for Olyphant who thrives with his gray hair and five o’clock shadow, often intimidating even when being goofy, such as Santa Clarita Diet. Before shooting begins, Dalton meets up with a young girl Trudi Fraser (Julia Butters) and again Tarantino enters in an incredibly and needlessly long dialogue. Writing this almost two weeks later (and reviewing this after I revisited the film about a month ago), I fail to remember a single thing discussed other than that Dalton leaves feeling empowered. We’re then on the set and so begins the best part of the movie as we watch Dalton perform on this cheesy western show, with things going fine until he starts forgetting lines, leading him to go freak out in his dressing room and deliver another classic scene from Leo that’ll be watched for years. He returns to the set and knocks it out of the park and the girl compliments him in a moment that’s now become a meme. He regains confidence and heads home with Cliff and the two watch his role The F.B.I. and Schwarz finally convinces him to go to Italy and star in the spaghetti westerns. But we don’t get to follow him there; the film instead jumping time to his return. I’m still confused by this as it seemed like one of the most exciting sequences Tarantino could have shot; showing the world of Spaghetti westerns. I imagined him emulating Sergio Leone, Corbucci, and others. We don’t see any of it and instead get a weird Kurt Russell voice over that explains everything (albeit with some cool posters), serving as little more than exposition as the story jumped half a year. Between all this, Dalton and Pussycat make it to the Spahn Ranch, finding the place filled with dozens of hippies who stare them down, led by Gypsy (Lena Dunham). The scene builds as Dalton wonders where his old buddy George is and the hippies do all they can to avoid letting him inside. This has to be one of the biggest blue ball moments in recent cinematic history as I drifted to the edge of my seat, anxious to see the Manson story start up and instead, although Tarantino couldn’t make the kids look anymore unnerved and crazed to avoid Dalton finding George, Dalton enters and finds the guy passed out in bed and just a bit confused; as though waking your grandfather from a nap. I suppose that’s the joke and the reality, but it just tanked the scene. Dalton returns a year later, now married to Francesca Capucci (Lorenza Izzo), serving as a type of pre-modern hot woman who screams and yells, all without speaking a word of English. Even with all this seeming success and after being offered a lead in a new series, Dalton then fires Cliff, saying he can’t afford him, having to care for his wife and all. The two decide to have one last night of drinking and return to Dalton’s place where Cliff pulls out an acid dipped cigarette and goes to walk the dog and light it up while Dalton makes some more margaritas and practices his lines in the pool; all while his wife sleeps. Cliff sees some hippies dressed in black trying to get into Polanski’s place and scares them off, but they only then park down the street, with the teenagers offering some cringe-heavy lines about killing, as though written by a fourteen year old emulating Tarantino. They then decide to go and try and kill Dalton and Cliff instead. They head up, Cliff starts feeling the effects of the acid, and Dalton floats in his pool with headphones on, trying to memorize his lines. The hippies approach and so begins the Tarantino scene that we all wait for in each film, and while pretty fun, similar to the Spahn Ranch, fails to deliver. It’s not Pussycat or Gypsy that leads the raid, but four hippies we don’t recognize. Dalton is then tripping on acid, but aside from his shark eye pupils and some mannerisms, there’s no visual cue as to how much he’s tripping. I was immediately thinking of Midsommar (2019) and how well it pulled off psychedelics and how well it could have worked here; not requiring some crazy visuals, but rather providing the subtle effects - light tracers, morphing backgrounds, or amplified colors. Instead, we’re just watching someone tripping on acid, battling four characters we don’t know. It’s a fun enough fight scene, but the potential for where it could have gone was just too apparent. In the end, the hippies die and Polanski and Sharon come home after the police leave and invite Dalton over; possibly reviving his career. There have been online rumors that Tarantino is going to continue the story with a mini-series, and I do think it might be where the story’s salvaged. There was just too much more I was left wanting. Sharon Tate alone has maybe a dozen or so lines. For a powerhouse like Margot Robbie taking up the role, you can’t feel like she was shorted a classic Tarantino female role; serving as little more than a background historical figure, involved with anything else beyond being a neighbor and potential victim. Maybe this is simply the pilot of a much longer story, and if so, maybe this is one of the greatest pilots ever made. Until then, I left feeling disappointed. It was a fun world to live in and see through Tarantino’s eyes, but when I keep watching clips from Jackie Brown throughout writing this, it’s just not nearly as close to creating the engaging stories Tarantino provided with his first five films. Tarantino has famously declared that he’s only going to make ten films, as so few directors have been able to keep making quality work beyond that. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood foreshadows what he means. It’s not a bad film, but it feels like he’s been disconnected from the rough, working class world he created. I hope he returns to crime for his last film, and I still have faith that he could make it work the way we always hope for a Tarantino film, but it feels like for a man who’s been making the creme de la creme of world cinema, his bag of tricks is running out, emulated and evolved far too much for them to keep working. As a note, I revisited the film after a buddy said it was his favorite movie of the year and that it required repeated viewings. I understood and remained hopeful. I thought Sideways (2004) was just pretty good when I first saw it. Now it’s one of my favorite films. While the first two thirds was better than I recalled, all of the criticisms stand, and the weird time jump for the last third was all the more jarring. It felt like rather than focusing on one thing and giving it all he had, Tarantino was drawn too thin; trying to cram way too much into the story, made all the worse the worse when certain moments drag on, making me wonder why I’m focused on a meaningless conversation when I’m watching a film about the Manson murders in Hollywood. BELOW: Best scene of the flick 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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 Best movie about family in quite some time Director: Lulu Wang Writer: Lulu Wang Cinematographer: Anna Franquesa Solano Producer: Daniele Melia, Marc Turtletaub, Peter Saraf, Andrew Miano, Chris Weitz, Jane Zheng, Lulu Wang, and Anita Gou by Jon Cvack My fellow friend and cinephile at work mentioned that The Farewell was his favorite film of the year and given that we’re in month eight (at the time this writing) I knew that was saying something. The story is about a second generation Chinese American student named Billi (Awkwafina) who lives in New York City and is struggling to get by; falling behind on her bills, counting on getting the prestigious Guggenheim Fellowship, and getting a letter of rejection. Billi returns home to her high strung mother, Jian (Diana Lin), cooking dinner and discovers her dad, Haiyan (Tzi Ma), upstairs and upset; nervous that he’s started drinking again. He reveals that Billi’s grandmother Nai Nai (Zhao Shu-zhen) has gotten lung cancer and is estimated to die in four months. Jian and Haiyan want the family to return to China to pretend to attend Billi’s weird cousin’s wedding in order to share some time with Nai Nai and say goodbye. Per Chinese custom, the family will not tell Nai Nai that her mom has cancer until just a few weeks before she passes. Billi vehemently disagrees, believing it wrong to lie to grandmother and failing to grasp the cultural significance. From an immediate view, I imagine most agree with Billi, and yet you then realize the benefit. If a person thinks that they just have a cold and it might end soon, it’s not as though they’re doomed to reflect on their imminent death and forced to countdown the days. The purpose is to bear the burden and guilt in place of the victim who’s then allowed to appreciate her final days. Billi doesn’t inform her family that she’s coming, and while the rest of her family is suspicious, Nai Nai is thrilled to see her granddaughter. We meet the suspicious bride and groom, the peculiar looking Hao Hao (Chen Han) and his acne-ridden fiance Aiko (Aoi Mizuhara) who play some of the best characters of the film; in which all the family members wonder why on Earth they’re getting married, whether it’s because of a child, or if they actually love each other. They never speak a word to one another, always looking as though they’re sucked out of reality. We go on to learn and discover the other characters; from Billi’s father glued to his brother Haibin (Jiang Yongbo)’ s hip; drinking more and more every night until finally taking up smoking again. We watch Billi’s alarm and disappointment. To think we only heard a single question earlier, and still this moment captures so much history. Her dad evidently had a drinking problem and he’s flirting with it once again and Awkwafina's reaction shows the past. Nai Nai is your above average happy go lucky grandmother; loving each and every moment with her family; still seeing herself as the matriarch and in control, watching over and guiding their lives. Nai Nai’s sister Nai Nai (Lu Hong) was the only underdeveloped character (which you could suspect for having the same name). Her flashy style and unique look blended well with the family, but it felt like the one person I wanted to know more about. Strange enough, I experienced a similar situation recently. My cousin was getting married on the East Coast and after just taking a week off to be with my girlfriend for an important family event, my grandmother demanded I go to the wedding. My dad had always criticized anyone making co-workers' lives inconvenient for your personal benefit. My work already provided me time off to go with my girlfriend on vacation to New York and asking for more time felt unfair. I’m of course saying this in defense of the fact that I did not go to the wedding. My grandmother is 97 years old and now believes she will go any day; regardless of the fact that she still writes me multiple letters per week, cooks her own meals, and lives on her own; fully mobile. She’s at the age where it could happen, she just doesn’t appear in the condition that would lead many to think such. Of course the movie was a strange coincidence; about a woman Billi who wants to be with her dying grandmother one last time at the wedding. The movie is as much about change as about family, and how people continue relationships when there’s so much distance or culture apart. There is a great dinner scene where the family talks about China, its booming economy, and - ever so gently - the ways in which America allows for freedom while China limits it. Billi’s great lesson is learning to communicate with all those around her. Her greatest challenge being to convince her family they’re wrong and that they should tell her grandmother, hoping they’ll soon hear her, but then finally hearing them. It’s the best film I’ve seen all year as well. It’s when the credits rolled that I got the biggest smile; seeing that the director’s grandmother continues to live to this day, years since being diagnosed. I think my grandma will be doing the same. Unfortunately, having written this about a year and a half ago, my own grandmother finally passed away last November at the age of 99. Miss you Gram. BELOW: Little taste Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Park Chan-wook Writer: Park Chan-wook and Chung Seo-kyung Cinematography: Chung Chung-hoon Producer: Park Chan-wook and Syd Lim by Jon Cvack The Handmaiden departs from the dark and flashy style Chan-Wook Park is best known for. The last film I saw from Park was Sympathy for Lady Vengeance back in 2014. I didn’t remember much in terms of his style specifics, but I expected The Handmaiden to provide the same grit. There’s a strange style of filmmaking that I struggle to label - a kind of epic period piece coming-of-age storytelling. Amarcord (1973), Life is Beautiful (1997), The Color Purple (1985), A Very Long Engagement (2004), and Phantom Thread (2017) are the first to come to mind; often involving a director at the top of their game who finally has the budget to express their full imagination. Not knowing what this film was about, the intro immediately immerses you into the mystery. We’re in Japanese-occupied Korea and follow a Japanese rich heiress Lady/Izumi Hideko (Kim Min-hee) who lives in a gigantic and beautiful mansion, half designed by the English and the other half by Japan. We then move into a band of street criminals, ranging in age and expertise, crafting everything from counterfeit money to the perfect pick pocket. The leader Count Fujiwara (Ha Jung-woo) decides to try and con his way into marrying Lady Hideko, send her to an insane asylum and then pocket all her money. He is their newest and youngest member, the seemingly innocent and beautiful Sook-hee (Kim Tae-ri). Somehow Sook-hee gets into the position of Lady Hideko’s handmaiden; immediately falling in love. Lady Hideko immediately picks up on the attraction and the pair have their first sexual encounter. Counter Fujiwara then arrives shortly after and attempts to woo over Hideko. While I’m a bit confused over how both he and Sook-hee got to their respective positions, the frenetic style made me buy it, and so begins a love triangle as Sook-hee further develops her feelings and passion. The narrative then shifts in time, which is done in a jarring and yet smart way (when I correctly followed), in which when Sook-hee and Count Fujiwara take Hideko to the insane asylum to pull of the con for Fujiwara to reverse course, and have convinced the hospital that Sook-hee is actually Lady Hideko. The next two parts of the films help explain this grand con; taking place years earlier with Lady Hideko having some weird uncle that reads her sadistic sexual fantasies; some involving a giant squid. To be honest, around here I failed to keep track of the overall details. I was left with some of the most beautiful and unique images I’ve seen in a long time - of a person having sex with a Human sized wood partner and rich men watching on in tuxedos; of one of the most sensual and beautiful sex scenes I can recall of this decade; of the gothic mansion and green parks; of the octopus illustrations and the same animal in the acquarium, oozing out Another viewing will connect the timeline, and yet, like any great storyteller, the images alone piece together the story. It’s an epic tale of love across two women, battling against male forces that hope to preserve them as objects, using them at their pleasure. I’m not familiar with the conflict between Korea and Japan, and somehow Chan-Wook Park communicates the metaphor. There is the desire for free and open love versus tyrannical subjugation. I suspect the countries underwent a similar struggle. Chan-Wook Park creates the perfect kind of cinema - the need to return and the excitement for the day. BELOW: A taste of the images Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Ari Aster Writer: Ari Aster Cinematographer: Pawel Pogorzelski Producer: Patrik Andersson and Lars Knudsen by Jon Cvack For some reason, every time I say I thought Hereditary was pretty good, people recite back that I must have hated the film. It’s one of the more divisive horror films of recent years; part of the art house horror movement that I think is as exciting as the Slasher, Universal Classic, and Sci-Fi Creature Feature movements. The VVitch (2015), It Follows (2014), It Comes at Night (2017), and Get Out (2017) are at the vanguard; ushering in a new era of exciting filmmakers. In terms of craft, Hereditary is at the very top, providing a psycho-horror/Satanic witchcraft hybrid. The simple fact is that I just don’t like psychological horror all that much, and even though I know some tell me/demand I understand that there is no mental illness amongst any of the characters or within the story, and that it’s actually all real, there’s still the suggestion. As mentioned in my thoughts, my problem with psychological horror is analogous to surrealistic filmmaking or dream sequences - everything, no matter how fantastical, is permitted. So yes, if it’s all real, Hereditary’s images are terrifying. Maybe subsequent viewings will change my opinion as other films have (they didn’t and I’m more convinced we’re watching a story about severe schizophrenia). Point is, for something that so many hail as a work of art, many seem determined to provide an exact explanation. Maybe it’s the militancy that turned me off a bit. Or maybe I’m wrong. Midsommar has one of the greatest cold openings to a horror film of all time. I’m tempted to say of this century. It is a master class in cinema; utilizing the camera and blocking interesting characters in ways that maximize the experience. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen the film, and the feeling remains; though the exact story has broken apart into a series of images - a long take of a college student Dani Ardor (Florence Pugh) who suffers from the recent murder-suicide of her parents and sister. Her graduate student boyfriend Christian Hughes (Jack Reynor) and his friends and classmates are introduced moving from a painting down to the table, introducing them one by one before following Christian when he gets a call from Dani; the muted color blown apart when the film cuts to the flashback of firemen discovering Dani’s dead parents and sister, shot in a way that has been turned into mind. Each take was gentle and deliberate, completely immersing me within the story. The kind of situation where when the title credits pop, you forgot time altogether; having been so fully immersed. I struggle to think of a film that has better shown such a specific moment in a romantic relationship. Dani is struggling mentally and Christian clearly has some feelings for her. Some I talked to said it was for the sex, but I don’t get the sense that Dani was interested all that much in sex as we never see them intimate. Through Aster’s mastery, it felt as though the two had a great and passionate year or so, and through a long slow demise - spawned by the tragedy - Christian realized he was no longer in love with her, while Dani seems to have shifted into complete dependence. Aster’s ability to maintain the subtlest amount of genuine care for another is what makes it work so effectively. So on rocky terms, Dani discovers that Christian and his friends are going to Sweden for six weeks; somewhat to study a local festival called Midsommar in an ancestral commune of Hårga, partially to party and see Europe. Christian’s three friends Josh (William Jackson Harper), Mark (Will Poulter), and Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) all prefer Christian finally end things with Dani, and with the film taking place a year after the opening, his credibility is shot. It all doesn’t stop Pelle from flirting with Dani, who again, is masterfully directed, appearing as a perfectly nice guy who maybe could appreciate Dani for who she is, yet with just a hint of creepiness, knowing it’s all a ruse, and he might just be as bad as his friends. They head out and the tone shifts completely. The first film people compare it to is The Wickerman (1973), which I’m not really a fan of. I don’t hate the film, but when I think of putting on a horror film, I just have never been in the mood to return. The reason I think so few of these films exist is because they generally exist within the daytime and outside with sunny weather. The complete opposite of what is scary or frightening. It’s a challenge, but it’s not particularly overcome. The five arrive outside the gates, with blue skies separated by Simpson clouds, and dozens of clusters of people sit all across the field as far as the eye can see. Pelle finds his old friends Connie (Ellora Torchia) and Simon (Archie Madekwe) who give them some shrooms. In a scene all too many of users have been in, Christian wants to take them while Dani is nervous. What gives it that extra zest is that Dani has a legitimate reason to probably not do hallucinogens with severe mental trauma and while on medication. It’s this point that raises my first mild criticism, in that it seems like - similar to Heredditary - the whole story could have easily been an entire fantasy brought on by a bad drug cocktail, and just as she initially took the shrooms and saw the grass going through her foot, she became immerse. I don’t think it’s legitimate, and perhaps this was Aster’s throwback to psychedelic cinema, but it shook the foundation a bit. Any way, Dani agrees to take the shrooms and grass starts growing out of her foot and she has a freak out, leading her to walk off alone. For anyone that’s ever been curious or has done shrooms, this is the greatest depiction I’ve seen of the drug and capturing a freak out. I still don’t know how he achieved it, but Aster caught the drug’s essence by somehow making it appear as though any element on the screen was only twirling if you were looking at it. With my eyes bouncing from Dani to the trees, I kept thinking the effect was fading, only to look back and see the same. They end up in the town and Christian and his friends nearly orgasm over the anthropological significance. The place is entirely run by blonde hair and fair skinned people, all decked out in white linen clothes and mostly friendly. They give the guests a tour of the complex and show them where they’re going to sleep. Christian or another friend ask about the lack of old people, told that old people “go away” after the age of 64. Later, we meet a pair of old people who are the ceremony’s guests of honor. In a long scene, where unfortunately the tone begins to shift, we watch a long and drawn out sequence, culminating in the two senior citizens going to the top of a mountain, to then jump off and commit suicide. The woman has a clean death, though the husband only busted his legs, requiring them to bring in a gigantic hammer and crush his skull in. Dani, Christian and the others freak out, including Pelle’s friends. It’s defended as being part of the culture, the old people allegedly saw it as a privilege and elected to do it, and it allows them to sustain the colony by doing so. Both the film and craft level off at this point. Expecting it to go far off the deep end, the story doesn’t get worse, it just doesn’t maintain its upward trajectory. Although Josh had always planned to write his thesis on the festival, Christian announces that he’s going to make it his thesis; pissing Josh off for reasons that I guess I understand but seem silly. Christian is a fairly dead beat student, so even if they were going to write on the same festival it doesn’t appear like there’s much competition. Secondly, although I’m not certain, I’m sure the professor would have final say, and very likely would prevent Christ from stealing Josh’s topic. Both my senior papers in college had to be pitched and developed by the professor. I can’t see graduate school being much different. This feud further alienates Dani and perpetuates the tensions with Christian. Pelle approaches Dani once again, giving her an illustration for her birthday where she confesses that Christian had forgotten. Christian then tries to make things up in one of the cringiest scenes I’ve watched in a long time; trying to light birthday candles and singing an awkward Happy Birthday as Dani sees right through it. He then starts crushing on a local girl who he can’t take his eyes off of. Meanwhile, Pelle’s friend Connie freaks out when she learns her boyfriend Simon was driven home, unsure by who. Mark then accidentally pisses on a sacred tree and pisses off the rest of the commune. All of these aren’t necessarily bad developments, but beyond Dani and Christian’s relationship, they all feel like easy tropes from a filmmaker that has reinvented so much. It felt like busy work to kill them off and get to the film’s final scene. It felt like so many of these could have gone in far more fucked up directions; again, leveling the film off prematurely rather than building up. The final scene involves another brilliant shroom trip, as Dani plays a musical chair/tag hybrid, as she dances around with the other young women, all tripping out, doing their best to avoid falling down. Christian is lured by his local crush’s family and into a bizarre and unforgettable scene where women across the age spectrum sing and dance while he fucks his crush who lies on the ground. A stoned Dani wins the contest, receiving full honors in the shape of a flower dress, though soon discovers Christian who later is burned alive with two other commune members, his corpse already gutted and their skinned friends turned into scarecrows. Another issue is that Jack Rynor - who plays Christian - looks strikingly similar to Chris Pratt; making the dramatic moments feel a bit off, as I found myself expecting some humor. The problem unfortunately peaking out during the dramatic ritual fucking scene. I’m not completely sure this wasn’t intentional. The movie is a good horror film, but as others have said and similar to Hereditary, I’m not even sure it fits the horror category. On a Reddit AMA, Aster suggested he’s going to move on from horror for the time being. For a guy who is a radical cinephile, I cannot wait to see where he goes. Aside from some of the simpler tropes, Midsommar otherwise provides an engaging romantic story; serving as a fantastical catharsis, but leaves me wondering what Aster will explore beyond the genre. BELOW: Another story about trauma - was it all a trip? Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  It could be fixed Director: Christopher Nolan Writer: Jonathan Nolan and Christopher Nolan; story by Christopher Nolan and David S. Goyer Cinematographer: Wally Pfister Producer: Emma Thomas, Christopher Nolan, and Charles Roven by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... We’re led back to the city where we learn that Gordon is floating the idea of revealing the truth about Harvey Dent. With crime at a record low and Batman now Gotham’s most wanted, he hesitates to reveal the truth, knowing it might cause the people to turn back toward criminality. We go on to Wayne Manor, where yet another party is thrown, in which Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) remains hidden upstairs, unshaven, slow moving, and now using a cane. One of the servers Selina Kyle (aka Catwoman; Anne Hathaway) works her way up to his room where she steals Marth Wayne’s pearls before Bruce reveals himself. The two are immediately attracted to each other, and even after Bruce requests she leave the pearls, she heads off and we later learn that it wasn’t about the necklace so much as retrieving Bruce’s fingerprint for a corrupt member of the Wayne Enterprise board, John Daggett, who hopes to seize power. He’s played by Ben Mendelsohn who has gotten even better with age, as while he was relatively unknown at the time, he’s gone on to play everything from the King of England in Darkest Hour (2017) to a backwoods redneck in The Place Beyond the Pines (2012). Meanwhile, Bane is building a massive underground army that exists in the Gotham sewers, which have been attracting many local foster home kids; particularly of interest to former foster child and now police officer John Blake (aka Robin; Joseph Gordon-Levitt) who takes it upon himself to investigate the disappearances even against the direct orders of Gordon’s second in command Peter Foley (Matthew Modine) who believes it’s a waste of time. What we soon learn is that Daggett is working with Bane who uses the fingerprints in order to frame Bruce Wayne in making a series of erroneous trades the Gotham Stock Exchange that soon tank the entire company; which if left in Daggett’s control, would provide Bane all of the firepower he would need to launch an attack. The prints cause Wayne Enterprises board to fire Bruce, but before he can, he appoints one of their more trusted board members, Miranda Tate (Marion Cotillard). The company has been designing cold fusion with the use of a nuclear orb, though being in its nascent stage and undeveloped, they fear it getting into the wrong hands (especially if Dagget gains control of the company). Gordon then lands in the hospital after investigating the sewers where he comes across Bane’s lair, soon captured by some of their soldiers. Blake escapes and Gordon is captured, jumping into the rushing sewer water where he catches a bullet and is later found by John Blake, who admits that he knows Bruce Wayne is Batman and demands to know the truth of his disappearance and soon Batman goes into the sewers where he fights Bane, who strikes his back, knocking out one of his vertebrates. Christian Bale exudes the same exact torture I’ve experienced when throwing my own back out to the point of immobility or at the cost of complete andd unbearable pain. He’s sent to some deep prison well in the middle of some exotic desert; the place where Bane was born. The only way of escape is by climbing the precarious well which no man has done since; most dying as a result. With Gordon in the hospital, Peter Foley makes the ridiculous and unbelievable decision to have 99.9% of the Gotham police enter the sewers to retrieve Bane and his acolytes, which is exactly what Bane hopes for when he explodes all of the entrances, trapping them all inside and ripping away any protection for the city. There are somehow no off duty officers, or even a few left on the street to, you know, protect the rest of the city, and while I want to look past, it is such an incredible decision that serves as the foundation for the rest of the film that you can’t help but be pulled out for the remaining hour. There are still fantastic sequences, but for whatever they are, you realize that the world you’re now being asked to accept doesn’t make much sense. In situations such as this, I try and find alternatives that could have made it work. Perhaps the cops were all assassinated one by one (which would be even harder to accept), or maybe they could have somehow been poisoned by the scarecrows sewer juice. This would have also been hard, but at least we would have accepted the consequence; the larger issue being how they avoided poisoning the whole city, which I can’t find a way to work around. The easiest answer seems to be that they could have shown the hundreds of off duty cops and the handful of street cops to have been killed off or arrested. They could have gotten access to the schedule through a simple throwaway scene of a corrupt cop providing the information. While not perfect, it at least would have shown that no, not nearly every single cop went into the sewer which no sane person would possibly order. I’d argue this could even be shot and integrated into the film to fix the glaring problem. A few cutaway scenes showing the few remaining have now been killed. Bane then launches an attack on Gotham city during one of their big professional league football games, where the crowd is decked in the old school yellow and black batman colors, which seems a bit too vibrant for the overall palette. A bomb goes off which explodes the fields, killing all of the players, except for one man who makes it to the end zone for a touchdown. It’s one of the few scenes in the series that leans far too heavy into digital effects, making you wish they scaled it down a bit in order to pull off a more vivid sequence which would honor the rest of the film. It’s when Bane reads Gordon’s secret speech that reveals Harvey’s corruption that the film bends another bound of logic; namely, if I just watched a football field completely explode and kill dozens of players and spectators, I’m not sure how much of an impact a crazy person reading an alleged speech from James Gordon would have. Nevertheless, it causes mass panic, perpetuated when Bane introduces Dr. Pavel who explains the nuclear bomb circling the city. The US Government sends in troops, though Bane threatens to destroy the entire city if they attempt to come in. Another issue is when, due to Catwoman’s savviness, they put her into the all male prison, which appeared done for the sole reason of allowing her escape when Bane’s army breaks in and releases all of the male prisoners who join them (though why they couldn’t have done the same with a women's prison, I’m not sure). This then bounces right into the next question as to why in the world Gotham City’s prison population, all immediately provided with automatic weapons, would then electively fall under Bane’s command. The easy solution is showing Bane’s intimidation tactics, but it also seems like it could have been cooler if there were multiple factions (having extra police up above ground would fit well in this regard; they’d be just another faction). After numerous failed attempts to escape and a return to training, Bruce’s cellmate pops his vertebrae back into his spine. Bruce finally scales the well walls and returns to Gotham where his Batcopter blasts the police free and joins them in attacking Bane and his crew, as though straight from Medieval times. Batman fights Bane on the footsteps of city hall where Miranda Tate appears, revealing that she’s Ra’s al Ghul’s father and continuing her father’s mission to “liberate” the world of an immoral Gotham; by blowing it up with a nuclear weapon cruising around Gotham, hidden in a truck. There’s an exciting sequence where Gordon and Blake attempt to chase down the truck with the bomb and disarm it the best they can; failing, only for Batman to then fly in and grab it, to then fly out to see where he allegedly sacrifices himself in order to save Gotham. Earlier in the film when Alfred nearly quits in protest over Batman returning to the streets, there’s a flash of him expressing what he wants; to see Bruce settled down and married, perhaps with some children. In the closing images of the film, we see Alfred arrive at the very place we saw earlier, with Bruce at the table with the Catwoman; and while you first want to think it’s a nice nod to Alfred’s commitment, you then wonder how Bruce dating a criminal could possibly work. You then wonder if it’s just a fantasy and that Bruce is dead and perhaps it was only Alfred’s fantasy (but then why would it be Catwoman in the dream?). The best possibility is that it actually happened and it wasn’t a compliment to Alfred so much as reality like the rest of the film, and so I’m left hoping Nolan returns; as it feels almost certain that he will. No one can continue Nolan’s story because it’s so much his vision of the story; which he created loosely off the Frank Miller material alongside his brother, but very much made his own. It seems especially likely when John Blake mentions his name Robin, which would make zero sense to include unless explained further; he could have just as easily said Tiger and he may or may not have become Batman’s sidekick. If I was a betting man, I’d guess around the mid-2020s it’ll return; preventing Bruce Wayne from getting too old for plausibility (not that Christian Bale couldn’t do it; though then what’s the difference?). There seems so much left to explore, and looking it up, he did hint at a fourth film back at Cannes in 2018. In terms of superhero comic book, I’d put The Dark Knight Rises in fourth after Logan, as compared to nearly all of the Marvel movies I’ve seen (and I haven’t most of them), this is unparalleled. I can look past the liberties it took with the story as it was all in an effort to provide the most cinematic action sequences possible. It goes far enough to pull you out, but only during the quieter moments; when the police are marching through the tunnels and the coordinated attack goes off, it sets off a thrilling final act, providing bumper to bumper action which in and of itself is phenomenal. Only Nolan could somehow match the adrenaline between a person climbing out of a well with a Batcopter chasing a truck with a nuclear bomb. Watching Christopher Nolan is watching someone that, like Spielberg or Kubrick, captures the highest of imagination, all while abandoning the bells and whistles of style in order to tell as realistic a story as possible. As a kid I was always bummed when I finished Back to the Future, knowing that the world was over and that’s all there was to see. Watching these films, I feel the same; the world is so vivid and I wish there was more to explore. Hopefully there’ll be. BELOW: Why Nolan should never go with CGI Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Tom Hardy's first mask Director: Christopher Nolan Writer: Jonathan Nolan and Christopher Nolan; story by Christopher Nolan and David S. Goyer Cinematographer: Wally Pfister Producer: Emma Thomas, Christopher Nolan, and Charles Roven by Jon Cvack During our recent annual boys trip - where my three best friends and I spent an extended Memorial Day weekend up in Donner Lake (where we filmed Road to the Well), we got into an extended argument about whether art is democratic or subjective. I believe it is as while there is objectively good craft that goes into the making of art, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll connect to audiences. Van Gogh made hundreds of paintings, but "The Starry Night", "Self-Portrait", "Cafe Terrace" are for whatever reason his most famous pieces which millions hang reprints of in their homes. His paintings were widely shunned until long after his death, as the art form was evidently too progressive for its time and required the world to catch up. Shakespeare wrote around 38 plays, but he’s best known for King Lear, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and Othello. I’m sure academics and critics could either explain why they are the best, or possibly why others should be more popular. The point is that these individuals sent their art out in the world and those are the pieces that most connected to the masses. I understand the criticisms of Rotten Tomatoes, in which the craft of criticism is deduced to an aggregate score, but nevertheless, if you want to know if a film is pretty good, Rotten Tomatoes is fairly reliable. Anything critic sore above a 70% or so is probably worth checking out, and anything above a 90% if probably going to be incredible. The same goes for user ratings, whether on Rotten Tomatoes or IMDb; the film masses put in their own score and the scores are aggregated. A common misconception is that these numbers are some type of official score rather than averages. The point is that regardless of how the individual feels, the work is scored by the aggregate of critics, general movie fans, and cinephiles. My friends disagreed with this line of reasoning, as they believe there are objective standards of what good art is, begging the question as to who this God-like individual is that has come up with objective standards as to what constitutes good art. As to even say a committee of people would come up with them would also make the process democratic, as by the nature of compromise, some would win their standards, others would lose, and a few in the middle might get exactly what they want. Word of mouth is another democratic form of celebrating a work of art. If a movie is good enough we’ll post it to Facebook and tell our friends and the filmmaker achieves the legendary word of mouth success that is perhaps the finest form of merit. Someone then might say they only read one specific critic and it’s that critic which best reflects their taste. Back when Ebert was still alive, I used to avoid looking at this star rating before I saw the film and see how close we were. I’d say we agreed around 90% of the time, plus or minus a half star. While I do believe he could objectively argue what a good film is, I also didn’t read many other critics. Perhaps my taste was directed by him and if I had consumed another critic, I would have seen and experienced films differently. Maybe it was his Chicago roots and blue collar vibe that made what seems to be a field now dominated by hyper educated elites. As of writing this, I’m reading my Pauline Kael collection of reviews “Love Movies: 1998-1991” and after around fifty reviews, I think she’s only celebrated a couple of them; appreciating, but taking the axe to such films such as Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989), Goodfellas (1990), Field of Dreams (1989), and Back to the Future Part 2 (1989). I struggle to think of more than two movies she enjoys (none of which I’ve even heard of), but her writing and insights are fantastic. If I read her before seeing these films for the first time, I might have grasped her point. I’ve tried other critics as well, but few seem to offer more that 90% synopsis and 10% paragraphs (a problem I’ve realized I’m bumping into over this last year); they’re not telling you about why the film’s good, they’re just telling you what it’s about and if they liked it. Thus, whether it’s through reading multiple critics, looking at the critic’s aggregate score, looking on Rotten Tomatoes, IMDb or Netflix at how people like the film - it’s ultimately providing a reason to check out the film. It’s the fairest way to decide whether a film is good or bad; you’re allowing a spectrum of people - some with your tastes, some in opposition - to share what they think. You then do your part by either rating, sharing, talking about, or perhaps saying nothing at all. I can appreciate a film for a variety of reasons - whether of an individual actor or director or cinematographer or writer or a specific production company like A24. From there, I can appreciate performance, blocking, set design, photography, special effects, story, mood, sound, score, make up, wardrobe - essentially everything that gets a nomination (which is why casting and stunts should get a category). Ideally, all of these elements add up into a perfect movie. That’s the goal. Most recently and closely achieved with The Revenant (2015). At other times, all of these elements are absent and the movie becomes torturous to watch; providing that strange experience where time seems to slow down and your phone is sitting there, calling to you for distraction. Suffice it to say, The Dark Knight Rises was a contentious movie. Some loved it, I enjoyed it, and others hated it. I’ve said it before, but The Dark Knight is up there somewhere with Indiana Jones and Back to the Future as one of the all time great summer blockbuster trilogies. Christopher Nolan creates a world just as rich as Burton’s, though shifting toward realism. There are implausibilities and silly moments, but for the most part it all abides by a particular logic, and with Nolan being one of the all time greatest action scene craftsmen, his films literally feel large when I watch them; as though my TV and sound has expanded, fulling immersing me with the story. Like the vast majority of trilogies, The Dark Knight Rises is the weakest film of the series, but with Nolan’s skill, I can look past the weak plot and appreciate the individual moments he creates. It was this film that kickstarted the conversation about art, as my friend thinks that Gotham sending all of the police into the sewer was far too ridiculous an idea to buy, pulling him out of the movie. Although it's been too long since I've seen the movie (I always seem to stop after the first two), I completely agree. It is an absurd, plot-serving idea that they used in order to get the police off the street and allow Bane and his minions to take control of Gotham. Where my friend and I differ is that I can still appreciate the fight on the steps of city hall, the BatCopter chasing a truck with a nuclear bomb, and phenomenal car chases; not in terms of some grand artistry, but because they are so fun to watch. Regardless of why they’re happening I’m fully immersed and enthralled with what’s happening, and if we’re going to look at the roots of cinema and how it relied entirely on the image, these moments contain just as much art and craft as anything else. The movie opens eight years after The Dark Knight (2008), which for those who don’t remember (cause I never have in my three viewings), Harvey Dent (aka Two Face) was killed by Commissioner James Gordon (Gary Oldman), though Batman took the rap due to both fearing that the city couldn’t recover after the town learns that their charismatic mayoral candidate was entirely corrupt. Before getting into the details, the film provides us with our first action sequence in which a group of captive terrorists are transported via plane back to the states. They’re led by Bane (Tom Hardy), a former League of Shadows member, who’s been captured and en route for extradition. The sequence provides the exact level of realism seen in the other films, in which it sure looks like they actually had two planes flying in the sky, attach cables, and have terrorists jump through the windows in order to make the extraction. However, it also begs the first question as to whether this was the best way to accomplish the mission. Would surrounding the men before they got on the plane, taking them out through snipers, or simply having more troops been easier? Sure, but that also would have been boring to watch, and going off my first point, a large part of what makes these films work is the incredibly realistic action sequences. BELOW: Not sure if this was the best to retrieve Bane but it's sure fun to watch Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Not sure how I still have never heard anything about this film. Give it time Director: François Simard, Anouk Whissell & Yoann-Karl Whissell Writer: Matt Leslie and Stephen J. Smith Producer: Shawn Williamson, Jameson Parker, Matt Leslie, Van Toffler, and Cody Zwieg Cinematographer: Jean-Philippe Bernie by Jon Cvack Stranger Things and other 80s period or inspired films focused on kids have essentially been operating as Nostalgic Retro Porn: a combination of colors, music, tropes, and pop culture icons that any great period piece can enhance. When I was growing up in the 90s, there was an endless array of the same types of stories set in the 50s - My Girl (1991), Now and Then (1995), Stand by Me (1986), and Barry Levinson’s 50s Quadrilogy, they too possessing iconic images and sounds. Summer of ‘84 changes up the movement by scaling it back; foregoing the neon RGB colors and extravagant set pieces and instead providing a low budget indie period piece. It serves as part Stand by Me, part Fright Night, and two parts Rear Window. It’s limited budget and occasional uninspired dialogue and poor acting prevents the story from ever achieving greatness, but it also more firmly aligns the film with its 80s ancestors. If this feels cheap, so too would have comparable films from the period. It allows the film the freedom to wobble at places, but overall, the story is effective. It opens up in Cape May, Oregon where over thirteen boys have gone missing. We meet the tweenish Dave Armstrong (Graham Vercher ) as he finishes his paper route; ending up at his neighbor and police officer Wayne Mackey (Rich Sommer) might be the one responsible. Mackey is awkward and dopey, about as close as it gets to a stereotypical serial killer living in the suburbs. He’s friendly, though creepy and after Dave mentions that he’s behind on the paper delivery payments, Mackey invites him inside to get the money and show him his new photography dark room. Dave has an obsession for conspiracy theories and the supernatural. His room is covered in newspaper clipping about the missing boys, UFOs, and more. When Dave sees a boy his age over at Mackeys one night, who later looks like a missing kid on the back of a milk carton, he voices his concern to his best friends Dale "Woody" Woodworth (Caleb Emery), Curtis Farraday (Cory Gruter-Andrew), and Tommy "Eats" Eaton (Judah Lewis) who all express their reservations, though soon agree to launch into a scout mission to document Mackey’s day to day life. Cut between all this are nightly games of hide and seek throughout the neighborhood and Dave crushing hard on his former babysitter Nikki Kaszub (Tiera Skovbye) who’s parents have recently divorced. When she catches him spying on her, invites herself over and suggests enough interest to drive Dave love crazy. In one sequence, straight with 80s snap-zooms and cheesy flash cutting and the necessary use of large walkie talkies, the boys soon discover that Mackey leaves his house daily to buy over 100 pounds of dirt and sodium hydroxide. Needing hard evidence, the four sneak into the yard, finding freshly laid dirt in the flower beds, and then breaking into the shed and finding one of the local boy's t-shirts with blood all over. Dave decides to tell his parents, making his father furious and who forces the boys over to Mackey’s the next day to apologize. Mackey acts as though he doesn’t care, with Rich Sommer providing just enough gawkiness to make you wonder if it’s him. Before they leave, Dave asks about the boy he saw and Mackey says it was his nephew offering to call, but Dave’s father declines the offer. The next day, in a thrilling scene, Dave is stuck home grounded and Mackey visits on his way to work in order to apologize and try and get him out of too much trouble. It’s here, although most precedent has proved me wrong, that I found myself doubting whether it was Mackey. It seemed too obvious, but that again is part of the 80s throwback; the likeliest answer tended to be the right one. Dave requests that Mackey call his nephew; grabbing a knife and handing Mackey the phone; maximally framed for tension as Dave’s body blocks the weapon. Mackey calls, but gets no answer and later leaves. Dave calls the operator and finds out that Mackey had just called his home; concluding that it was all a lie to his skeptical friends. The next day, the police arrest a suspect, with Mackey getting the credit, all the more intriguing Dave’s parents who not just accused the wrong person, but a neighborhood hero. Dave remains undeterred, hoping to exploit the popular Cape May Festival by being left home alone where Curtis and Eats can keep an eye on Mackey while Dave and Woody head into Mackey’s basement. Dave grabs his dad’s news camera and they head over, with Nikki joining along. Having just watched Rear Window (1954), the parallels were excelling; similar to our doubts about Lars Thorwald and whether he actually did it, we’re left wondering about the facts down to the very end. As creepy as the basement is, there’s no evidence of foul play, until Dave sees another door, opens it up and finds what looks like a living room; with pictures strewn on the walls. They continue onto the bathroom, pulling back the curtain and finding a decayed body in a tub full of sodium hydroxide. The missing local boy then grabs their feet. It cuts out and the boys are hailed as heroes as they play the tape for the police and their parents. Mackey is still on the loose and with Woody’s mom working, he sleeps over at Dave’s. Later in the evening, Mackey descends from Dave’s exit and uses chloroform to knock the boys out and then takes them deep into the middle of the woods. In a shocking sequence, he slices open Woody’s throat and chases Dave down, though instead of killing him, Woody says he’s letting Dave go in order to keep him in indefinite fear. Dave returns back, experiencing severe trauma, though attempts to return to his normal life. Aside from a few cheesy moments of dialogue and some subpar acting, it’s hard to find much wrong with the film. It could have used a polish, but it’s this rawness that makes the film feel unique. The mission of any coming of age story is to capture the essence of what it’s like to be with your childhood friends and have an adventure. Stand by Me and Now and Then operate under comparable settings; with death operating as a right of passage: moving from the distant and undefined to a direct experience. In the Summer of 84’s case, it gives direct enlightenment as to the kids' own mortality. The bonds between friends, a first crush that leads to a first kiss, and the adventures that define youth - it checks all the boxes of a great coming of age story. Abandoning the bells and whistles of its competitors, and up against severe limitations, it doesn’t have the photographic quality of similar movies, but it does contain the spirit. My primary criticism are the wardrobes, in which all of the clothes look freshly purchased and worn for the first time. But compared to everything else, it’s an easy thing to forget. I’m confident that the movie will find horror fans soon enough. BELOW: So low-key there's not even a clip on YouTube (other than the ending) Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Martin Scorsese Writer: Laeta Kalogridis; based on Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane Cinematographer: Robert Richardson Producer: Mike Medavoy, Arnold W. Messer, Bradley J. Fischer and Martin Scorsese by Jon Cvack As said in my thoughts on The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016), Identity (2003) is arguably the most disappointing movie of all time per the ratio of how good it is up to its final moments and we learn the last hundred minutes was all the hallucinations of a schizophrenia killer. After checking out Shutter Island for a third time, and yet again hoping I failed to notice the details, I’m ready to say that Shutter Island takes second place. The first third of the film is A+ Scorsese filmmaking. Every time I watch the film it’s as though I’m having a flawless sensory massage. The story is brilliant in its simplicity - two US Marshals visit an Island on the eve of a hurricane in order to investigate a missing patient at a mental institution, with the added delight that one of the US Marshals suspects that the place is being run by American Nazis conducting experiments for the military. Recently I read Rebecca (1938); a book with the most awfully misleading titles next to David Simon’s Show Me a Hero (2015). It’s the first time I grasped a particular genre - a type of modern Gothic thriller (I’m sure a more astute book lover could better categorize); a genre that Hitchcock would start with - involving a seemingly supernatural event occurring that would go on to have an explanation (Hitchcock would go on to win Best Picture for Rebecca’s adaptation). Shutter Island seems to fit the same category; except rather than explaining away the supernatural, it has to explain away the extraordinary. Leonardo DiCaprio plays Officer Teddy Daniels; a WWII veteran who was amongst the soldiers who discovered the Dachau Nazi concentration camp and whose wife had recently burned alive in a fire. His partner is Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo). They arrive at the island off Boston Harbor, discovering the hospital is actually an old civil war fortress; now guarding the criminally insane. The place is run by lead psychiatrist Dr. John Cawley (Ben Kingsley) who’s suspicious of their involvement and how far they wish to extend their investigation. Not remembering exactly what happened in the film, the one glimmer of hope I have of enjoying the movie is to give it another viewing remembering that Dr. John Cawley was in on the whole scam. Even by the third time, I kept thinking he was simply a proud man with the right connections that could make him smugly dissent from the US Marshals’ orders. I’ll stop here to explain that the issue I have with whether this whole story was a performance, or whether Teddy imagines they’re just calling it a performance, or if Teddy’s suspicions were in fact accurate (NOTE: the book is definitive that it was an act). The problem is that in order to defend these positions each element in support of it must be sound; you can’t loose ends to support ambiguity. For instance, Crawley has denied them access to personnel and patient records and limits where they can go, which while odd, is understandable. He then grants access to at least some of the patients, which seems like a high risk for having at least one of them recognize Teddy and spill the beans; then again, one patient hands Teddy a piece of paper which tells him to RUN, such an ambiguous and cheap riddle that begs the question as to why the woman just couldn’t be more direct with Teddy. Giving him a note telling him to run seems just as consequential as telling him he’s all part of some ruse. The men then move to examine Rachel Solando’s room (for those who forget, the name is ananagrams of both Teddy’s ex-wife Dolores Chanal and the arsonist and ex-military buddy of Teddy who killed her named, Andrew Laeddis). They find a note on the floor stating "The law of 4; who is 67?"; a cryptic and fascinating clue that again fails a stress test as to whether Teddy’s paranoid suspicions were true. The anagram is specifically designed for Teddy. “The Law of 4” wouldn’t apply to anything else (or least so far as I can see). “Who is 67?” is a pretty good puzzle; a question that seems obvious enough once figured out, logical for the doctors to provide, and mysterious enough for Teddy and us to have to piece together. We learn that Rachel’s doctor was granted leave immediately after Rachel’s loss; told by a sexy nurse who I wondered whether an aspiring actress who didn’t give a shit about spilling the beans, or an actual nurse. Teddy and Chuck visit Crowley and his partner Dr. Jeremiah Naehring (Max von Sydow) in an absolutely brilliant scene. It’s a moment like this that balances between both sides of the reality. Naehring is deliberately cryptic, if not coming across mostly disinterested, while Teddy grows increasingly frustrated over their failure to comply, going so far as to suggest that Naehring might be a Nazi. The performances are spot on, and soon Teddy gets a migraine, and Robert Richardson’s signature light powers up to 11. Teddy wakes up the next day and a storm has come in. They continue their investigation to discover that Rachel has returned, played by Emily Mortimer who breaks down in tears explaining what happened, going so far as to hug Teddy which again felt like a strange moment; whether real or not, why would Crowley allow a psychopath to endanger Teddy’s life and hug him, especially when the experiment was meant as a safer alternative to lobotomy? By this point the film is now running on all cylinders and Teddy and Chuck head into the hospital’s cemetery where the storm reaches its apex; the wind breaking down trees and whipping branches in all directions. They end up in a crypt where Teddy explains how he thinks that the place is operating as a Nazi infilitrated experimental camp; supporting his thesis with experiences in Dachau and what they did to the prisoners. At this point, it is a close to perfect movie; as because you don’t know what the ending is (or can’t remember) everything makes sense. Especially, for as crazy as it seems, Teddy’s suspicion isn’t impossible: the place could have been infiltrated by Nazis who’re running experiments on the criminally insane in order to create new weapons of warfare. Perhaps it’s my fandom of pop-WWII action movies (along with Wolfenstein), it seems like this was the perfect set up - Teddy would go on to prove his thesis, supported by the evidence. It’s one of the few times I can recall the sensation of a film so strongly getting you excited for a certain plot and then turning a complete 180 in favor of a far more boring path. Identity is comparable. It’s plot wasn’t nearly as strong at the beginning. It was all a mystery. Shutter Island teases what could be a phenomenal and horrifying set up and instead abandons it for something plain and simply boring. The second third isn’t as bad as I remember, as Teddy and Chuck return to the hospital, exchanging their suits for inmate uniforms. They soon take advantage of the chaos and make their way to cordoned Ward C, as the warden (Ted Levine), his officers, and the orderlies do their best to round up the patients and clean up the storm debris. It’s the area with the institutions most murderously insane. It’s a scene where you immediately recall Silence of the Lambs. Teddy then sees a naked prisoner running down the hallways and leads Chuck to the labyrinth of corridors before the two finally part ways; leading Teddy to meet up with patient George Noyce (Jackie Earle Haley) who explains the experiment he runs on people. Referring toIMDb’s FAQ it’s says that he had been given orders to tell these lies; begging the question again as to 1) how did they get George memorize this much, 2) why would he go along with it, and 3) why wouldn’t he just explain that Teddy’s all part of the experiment (though to this last point, perhaps he doesn’t know who Teddy is, but then why does Teddy know him)? Teddy soon finds Andrew Laeddis (Elias Koteas) in the cells - again, the man who allegedly killed his wife - and the two talk about the war and how Teddy left him or something. I honestly can’t remember the details and this is the exact point we shift into the final and crushing last third of the film as Teddy then leaves, meets up with Chuck and the two try to reach the famous lighthouse. En route, Teddy sees a fire and climbs down into a cave where he meets the allegedly real Rachel Salando (now played by Patricia Clarkson) who essentially shatters the film’s ambiguity. This second Salando mentions she’s a former doctor and corroborates the experiments Teddy suspected and she’s now been living in the wild, bouncing from place to place to hide and one day escape; although the area is crawling with guards on the search; an idea so outlandish that we immediately grasp that Teddy is likely hallucinating everything. Teddy makes his way to the lighthouse where he discovers Dr. Crowley alone up top. He explains that the whole event was a game designed to repair his mind. Everyone was in on it, from the first Rachel Solando to the nurses and guards. Teddy refuses to believe, grabs his gun and discovers it’s plastic (another problem; as imagine if he actually needed to use it such as when Rachel grabs him). Chuck then arrives, now wearing a nice suit and reveals himself as Teddy’s therapist. There’s a meltdown and another migraine and Teddy passes out. He later awakes and admits to what he did and in a horrifying flashback we see Teddy admit the “truth” of Dolores’ death was that when he arrived home years ago, he found his wife had drowned their three children. Teddy then shot her dead. A mix of that and the holocaust completely destroyed his mind. By the end, what I recalled as having such fairly strong subjectivity played out far differently. Teddy grabs a smoke on the hospital steps. Chuck joins him and Teddy plays it cool, lowering his voice and explaining that they need to find a way off the island. Counter to the first two viewings, it was a far more somber and objective moment. Chuck looks over to Crawley, shaking his head, signaling that Teddy hasn’t been cured and will likely need a lobotomy. I wonder if another viewing with the details still fresh while knowing that it’s all a Fincher-like ruse might make it more interesting. Then again, I just find this such a heartbreaking film to watch. Set up for a grand slam and ending without a single run. It seems odd to consider that we’re essentially being entertained with a story of the complete mental breakdown of an extremely disturbed man. Especially when it didn’t even cure him. It’s a film that I hope gets remade some day; following the other angle in having him follow the evil in men’s hearts rather exploiting the sickness in a man’s head. As we say to those we love most, it's not bad movie, it's just disappointing. BELOW: Even knowing none of this mattered, still takes me to the edge of my seat every time Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Nothing better than a single location horror flick Director: André Øvredal Writer: Ian Goldberg and Richard Naing Cinematographer: Roman Osin Producer: Fred Berger, Eric Garcia, Ben Pugh, and Rory Aitken by Jon Cvack Seeing the film starred Brian Cox and Emile Hirsch, I avoided reading anything else. The title was obvious enough. The story opens on a crime scene where the police have dug up a beautiful young woman in pristine condition; her skin fair and nearly glowing without a mark on her body. With the cop needing immediate information, he takes the body to a local coroner. We meet Austin and his father Tommy as they complete the autopsy on the last patient of the night; listening to some classic rock on the radio and grooving along with the work. Tommy sends Austin off early to go meet up with a girl he’s been seeing named Emma (Ophelia Lovibond). As he’s about to leave the sheriff rolls up with the body and explains the urgency of having the cause of death determined by morning. Emma arrives, but feeling guilty, Austin asks if they can meet up later so that his father doesn’t have to work alone. The two start the autopsy, immediately realizing that the body has no signs of trauma except for her wrists and ankles being shattered and her tongue having been cut out. She’s also missing a molar. They open up the body, snapping the rib cage open and discovering black lungs and that her organs have countless amounts of cuts and scar tissue, as though sliced. They later peel her skin away to discover black magic scripture written across the insides. Note is how the filmmakers portray Jane Doe for the film’s duration (played by Olwen Kelly) as a beautiful woman who lies naked on the table. It appears a subtle comment on how women are portrayed in film; that so long as they’re attractive and naked it doesn’t matter whether they speak or lie dormant. It is an object for us to look at. It is the Kuleshov effect; as each subsequent episode occurs we cut back to her neutral face which communicates as much as the most popular women in horror films. During their initial autopsy, the radio shifts into an old song from the 1920s; later shifting to local news where the reporter says that storms are coming in with a risk of flooding. The set up is perfect, providing exactly what you desire from a horror film. A rainy night. Some people alone in a creepy place dealing with a mysterious object which seems to be involved with forces wanting to kill them; whether aliens like in The Thing, or a perfect sphere from Sphere, or a handful of strangers at a haunted mansion like House on Haunted Hill. The story essentially uncovers a question - why is this happening and how is the object involved? Where most fail is in resolving the question satisfactorily. At a ratio of how good a movie is compared to its ending, Identity is unmatched. It has the most disappointing ending of all time. It was all a psychotic fantasy, just an inch above it was all a dream. Shutter Island is a close second, with a first third that is absolutely flawless storytelling, fading in the second act, and then crashing hard in the third; it too was all a psychotic man’s fantasy. Check out my thoughts on Shutter Island (2010 for more details, but basically my main issue is that both dreams or hallucinations permit anything; drifting into the realm of surrealism where the experience is limitless in logic. There is no foundation. Any image could be created because none of the images are real. To me, cinema - and literature - is about connecting with a universal truth. It’s similar to watching a film completely in someone’s POV; it feels limited, when instead a more macro view could have made it better. It was all a dream/fantasy/psychotic episode is lazy writing; it’s what you do when you’ve painted yourself into a corner. The film’s that get it right provide that uncanny sensibility throughout the story. Things are getting weirder and weirder - or better - scarier and scarier and we do not know why. The Village (2004) is an example where the answer, while logical to a degree, was simply unsatisfying. The Autopsy of Jane Doe combines a mysteriously dead body who seems to be contributing to a supernatural presence determined to kill Austin and Tommy. The movie is a tight 85 minutes, moving from scene to scene with momentum and yet with deliberation. The filmmakers and actors convey a respect and comprehension of the medical terms rather than just reciting and pasting them down. It levels out their incredible discoveries; making you wonder if it was somehow a serial killer; honestly wondering if it was simply person that burned her lungs, cut up her organs, broke her ankles and wrists, cut out her tongue, and tattoo the inside of her chest skin all without leaving a mark on the rest of the body. That is, until the other bodies in the morgue disappear and rise up to kill them. Like a perfect shift in a jazz band, we comprehend what’s going on just as Tommy does; realizing that Jane Doe is something evil and must be destroyed; that she very well is a witch that was tortured to death and whose spirit has lived on. Tommy attempts to burn her alive and we witness the resistance; causing the destruction to become all the more powerful. After one of the bodies seems to attack them at the door, they run for the elevator. The doors shut and their attacked and Tommy swings to kill the creature; catching them in the head. The doors open and they see it was Emma. A twist so simple and yet unexpectedly perfect. The concluding deaths are equally terrifying; demonstrating that the power isn’t in her to kill Tommy and Austin so much as make them kill the other or self; to scare them into death. Her torture becomes their mental torture. It shows the way hallucinations can work; it is not from their perspective, it is something happening to them. It is an amazing horror film. BELOW: Avoided reading or watching any trailers and had no idea where this was going; what a scene Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  From Katrina victim to David Simon collaborator Director: Spike Lee Cinematographer: Cliff Charles Producer: Spike Lee by Jon Cvack I had watched Spike Lee’s When the Levees Broke (2006) back when it first came out just a year after Hurricane Katrina. I regard it as one of the top ten documentaries ever made. As Anderson Cooper Wendell Pierce, and others mentioned in this film, the coverage of Katrina faded far faster than it should have; as after the water began to recede, tens of thousands were left without shelter, medical, food, or water. Some were separated from their families and shipped out with no idea where they were going, and others were packed into the New Orlean Saints Superdome. A few resorted to doing whatever it took to survive, whether for noble or dishonorable purposes while facing an overactive and racist police department. In the end nearly 1,833 Americans died. The destruction, disruption, and violence most of these - dominantly black - individuals was staggering to the mind. Not being into politics at the time, it was one of the most impactful films I’d seen. It’s by sheer chance that this was the next film I watched from Spike Lee, after I began watching David Simon’s Treme just a few months prior. In the series, taking place a few years after Katrina, the town struggles to rebuild, Phyllis Montana LeBlanc plays the wife Desiree of a borderline deadbeat struggling trombonist Wendell Pierce. The two share a child which is essentially Desiree’s entire responsibility. There was something about LeBanc that stood out; the way Harvey Keitel or Harry Dean Stanton seem completely independent of the Hollywood machine; the type of actor that makes you realize how polished performers actually are. It was a performer who felt completely authentic to the area. Sure enough, Phyllis opens up If God is Willing and Da Creek Don’t Rise with one of Spike Lee’s signature styles in having her recite the lyrics to what inspired the title. Expecting to find a song, the closest I can come to is Johnny Cash’s version “If the Good Lord’s Willing”, originally written by Johnny Reed with Lee changing Zeppelin’s When the Levees Break to When the Levees Broke, it seems Cash’s track has some influence. From there, we get what I think is my favorite signature music collaboration between a director and composer, utilizing one of Terence Blanchard and his haunting and brooding jazz score. I don’t enjoy putting music into the words and yet as harrowing as Blanchard’s music is, there’s a type of perseverance existing between the notes. The film then opens the day of the 2010 NFL Superbowl, where the New Orleans Saints played the Indianapolis Colts. With Katrina residents still recovering, the game is more than just a game. It’s something that gives people hope and unites the city. The Saints go on to win, but rather than going on to riot and burn cars like other teams, they simply get wasted, dress up, and dance in the streets. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, this game means completely nothing beyond a symbolic gesture. The film then cuts into the many issues the resident’s still face, from severe PTSD, to revamping their public school system, to rebuilding their homes and businesses, and we see that for a story that might have been covered for about a month (according to Anderson Cooper), has actually gone on for five years and will likely continue for years to come. I was left wondering and thankful that such an event didn’t happen while Trump was in office and how much worse things might have been (then again, nearly 3,000 died in Puerto Rico for similar reasons; providing comparable racist coverage; that is, far too little). Although each topic could warrant an in depth discussion there were some that were simply shocking to watch. One involved something I had first seen in Treme, where Clarke Peters played Albert "Big Chief" Lambreaux, who’s bar had been destroyed by the flood, and who returns back to his apartment in the projects; squatting in his home and refusing to come out against police orders. This was a contentious issue in New Orlean local politics as thousands of residents returned to find the projects still standing. The city refused to let them in, believing that the cost of repairing the plumbing and wiring wasn’t worth it; opting instead to tear them down and replace them with mixed income housing. As with other areas, the city appeared motivated to get rid of its poorest neighborhoods in order to attract wealthier families and investors. Many of the residents at the time talked of culture, and the need to preserve it. Put differently, they didn’t want to be gentrified like all the neighborhoods in Chicago, San Francisco, and Seattle. I was on the fence about this one, as while I’m sure they could have borne the cost of renovation, the projects were simply ugly buildings that were over seventy years old; built during Roosevelt’s New Deal. The mixed income housing that went up was far more pleasing to the eye and attractive. Then again, if this meant that most of these people who suffered in the storm were simply forced out of the area with no opportunity to return, then their grievance trumps any progression. The poor should never lose their home in order to accommodate wealthy developers. Another story we often forget is the Deep Water Horizon accident occur, and how the same year the Saints won the super bowl, just eight months later the BP oil rig would pump nearly five million gallons of oil into the Gulf of Mexico, killing countless amounts of wildlife, crippling the fishing and tourist industries, and permanently damaging the bayou and its complex ecosystem. We hear the incredulity and disbelief from throughout the community; as though they’re living on cursed land, especially when Obama fails to call out BP beyond anything other than a slap on the wrist. If they couldn’t trust the first black president to help, who could they trust? It’s this dejection and subsequent persistence that Terence Blanchard’s score best captures. While writing this, Ta-Haisi Coates and Danny Glover testified before congress over the issue of slavery reparations. For those in doubt of reparations, whether conservatives who beg the entire question, or liberals who wonder where to position them alongside other big government programs, I urge you to check out Trevor Noah’s perfect response during an audience Q&A. It’s when you grasp the multi-generational injustices that long occurred after slavery, and how many racial injustices still exist because of it, that the abject failure of Hurrican Katrina is yet another symptom of slavery’s legacy. No matter how you want to reason out how or why it happened, the government completely failed its black citizens and contributes yet another reason in favor of the policy. There were other stories and images that burn into your mind - of dead bodies rotting in the flooded city streets and the Danziger Bridge Shooting where two people were killed and four wounded by police, including a mentally handicapped man. With no justification for violence, two officers ended up going to jail for murder; the type of event I wonder how I never heard about. What Spike Lee best accomplishes is showing us the seemingly endless list of injustices, where even if you disagree with one, you’d struggle to ignore the majority. Alongside When the Levees Broke, it’s the type of documentary that could forever change your mind; the type of experience that rips the blinders from your eyes and shows you a moment in history you’d never think possible. Like Lee’s other greatest work, it's a film that makes you feel both guilty and appreciative to now know the truth. And again, with the help of Terence Blanchard’s score, it gives you a bit of hope that such knowledge will help make things better. BELOW: A talk with Spike Lee 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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