Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Deconstructing a Hollywood Remake

The Uninvited vs A Tale of Two Sisters

This article contains spoilers about both films. Proceed with caution.

Based on Kim Ji-woon's 2003 chiller, A Tale of Two Sisters, the Guard Brothers' first feature, The Uninvited (2009), is, at its core a mediocre fright film aimed at 13 year old girls. And although it comes rather late in the seemingly endless J-horror (or, technically K-horror in this case) remake cycle, an examination of the differences between the two films actually manages to provide some interesting insights into the differences between Asian and North American culture and audience expectations.

The first major difference is, of course, the title. The Korean title of A Tale of Two Sisters is Janghwa, Hongryeon, which can be translated literally as "Rose Flower and Red Lotus". The Korean title comes from the Joseon-era folk tale on which it is based, about two sisters put upon and eventually murdered by an evil stepmother. The English title brings the relationship between the two sisters to the forefront, whereas the Korean title is actually the names of the two girls from the folk story. For the Hollywood remake, the name was changed to The Uninvited, which takes the girls out of the picture all together and puts the emphasis clearly on the haunting/ghost aspect of the story. It also thoroughly confuses those familiar with Lee Soo-youn's 2003 Korean horror film, 4 Inyong Shiktak, which was released in North American as The Uninvited. Other than both dealing with ghosts and being uncommonly elegant and moving, Lee's film and Kim's have little in common.

Another key difference is the shift in focus from the older, more assertive sister in Tale to the younger, more fragile sister in Uninvited. In Tale, Soo-mi (Lim Su-jeong) has just been released from a mental health facility after suffering some sort of nervous breakdown (which is never really explained), but upon returning home she immediately becomes confrontational with her step-mother, Eun-joo (Yum Jung-ah) and protective of her younger sister Soo-yeong (Mun Geun-yeoung. Eun-joo, frustrated by Soo-mi's insolence, turns her anger towards the passive Soo-yeong, which only fuels Soo-mi's teenage rage.

In The Uninvited, it is the younger sister, Anna (Emily Browning) who was institutionalized after a suicide attempt stemming from her having witnessed the death of her terminally ill mother in a (hilariously spectacular) fire. Upon returning home she immediately seeks out her older sister Alex (Arielle Kebbel), who is sassy, irresponsible and bikini clad for much of the film. It is also Alex who first raises suspicions about the role their father's new girlfriend, and incidentally, their mother's nurse, Rachel (Elizabeth Banks), played in their mother's death.

While a subtle difference, making the more "innocent" sister the protagonist plays directly into North American notions of purity and victim-hood. Were Anna to have been immediately confrontational with Rachel, one assumes that the audience would have felt less sympathetic towards her. This serves mostly to increase the shock of the final twist, which also greatly differs from the that in the original film. However, making Anna the "virgin" also better aligns her with the North American horror tradition of the "last girl".

Differences in attitudes towards sex and sexuality are also clearly evident in the way the protagonists are portrayed in the two films. Uninvited opens with a scene of Anna making out with a boy, but she ultimately pulls away from him as he starts to become aggressive. Older sister Alex, on the other hand, is implicitly more sexual and Rachel is clearly portrayed as a sexual temptress, complete with a drawer full of lacy underthings and a metallic dildo. Anna is also given a love interest who seems to hold a key piece of evidence to what really happened the night of her mother's death, a character that is completely absent from Tale. In fact, the concept of boys is altogether absent from the Korean film and burgeoning sexuality is hinted at. It could even be argued that sex and issues related to female sexuality are the major themes of The Uninvited, since it is implied at the end of the film that Anna's psychosis was triggered by her having caught her rather engaged in a sexual act. Not really that surprising as this is a standard preoccupations of North American horror films.

The mood an tone are also strikingly different between the two films. Whereas Tale is a baroque fairytale set in a dark and mysterious house, Uninvited is much more glib and sunny which ends up undermining much of the intended horror. Tale is as much a tragedy as it is a horror film and the prevailing feeling of deep sadness inherent in the way it was shot and scored, as well as the actors' performances, are what ultimately fuels the horror aspects. It functions largely as a mood piece with minimal dialogue, while Uninvited didactically spells everything out for the audience and includes such charming lines as, "[s]he's like a crack whore, only without the dignity."

However, it is the treatment of the mentally ill that most distinguishes The Uninvited from its Eastern inspiration. In Tale, Soo-mi's father (Kim Kap-su) is a doctor and his inability to help his daughter is what fuels his frustration. Although we are never told what kind of doctor the father is, it is clear that he feels he should be able to help her, either as a doctor or as her father. His emotional impotence and his compounded guilt is heartbreaking, yet his silence in the face of what is revealed to be an incredibly ill girl could be seen as too foreign to a spoon-fed Hollywood audience. And so in Uninvited, the father (David Strathairn) is given the much sexier occupation of writer and his frustration with his daughter is portrayed more as a result of the disruption to his life her return has caused than out of any real concern for her health. Because his exposure to to the true depth of Anna's illness does not happen until the very end of the film, we never get the sense of heartache that Tale exploited to such marvelous effect.

In Kim's film, the fact that Soo-mi has multiple delusions only serves to reinforce the horror imagery and the audience ultimately feels great sympathy towards her, especially at the end of the film. The Guard Brothers' take, on the other hand, feels much more like a case of bait and switch and the result is that the viewer feels manipulated and unmoved. Whereas Soo-mi is a girl struggling and ultimately unable to come to terms with tragedy, Anna is a cartoon psycho, straight out of central casting.

Whether the failings of The Uninvited are the result of studio interference, mediocre film making, or the Hollywood need to dumb everything down to the lowest common denominator is unclear. But the original premise and a capable and talent cast could have yielded something much more interesting. But then again, I guess it already did.

Monday, September 01, 2008

Holy Crap - Insane Pull-Quote

Being essentially a freelance film critic (read: unpaid), I'm never really sure if anyone ever actually reads the reviews that I write and I don't really have any control over how those reviews are used.

So, when two people on Facebook got in touch with me recently to let me know they saw my review of Takashi Miike's Sukiyaki Western Django, I decided to look into it a little more. Apparently a pull-quote from my Film Threat review is being used in the American advertising campaign for the film, meaning my name is all over a bunch of NY papers right now.

Which is pretty crazy, to me.

Although, according to this website (about 3/4 of the way down) it sounds like I was kind of totally misquoted.

Investigating further, I found the American website for the film, including a larger pull-quote right on the friggin' home page! The only other people quoted on the site are Guillermo del Toro, Eli Roth and Quentin Tarantino. Bizarre...

Not sure that this really actually means anything, but it is pretty cool to be associated with such a cool movie. And it makes me sound vastly more important than I actually am, which I suppose isn't really that bad.

Film Threat
Gelf Magazine
Sukiyaki Western Django Official Site

Monday, July 28, 2008

REPO! Review

My review of REPO! The Genetic Opera finally went up!

Link is here.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Fantasia Fallout

So, Fantasia officially wrapped up on Tuesday and I've only just managed to find time to write about it. Not much to say really. Things went out on kind of a whimper with closing film Dying Breed, a fairly standard inbred cannibals in the woods terrorize naive city folk flick that gets points only for properly taking advantage of their Tasmanian location.

Movies I did get to were kind of hit and miss. Sadly going to Vancouver in the middle of the fest really screwed with my momentum and I only got to 21 of the 25+ I was planning on seeing.

Really enjoyed Sukiyaki Western Django, [REC] and Ex Drummer. Didn't like Let the Right One In as much as I thought I would, probably because I was so fekkin' tired. Remind me to rewatch it after I get some sleep... I've already forgotten Truffe. Both docs I saw (Second Skin & I Think We're Alone Now) were surprisingly great, very eye opening. Who Is KK Downey? managed to live up to expectations. Le tueur & La creme were sort of disappointing despite having some really good performances. Sparrow was fun and light. Sasori was ridiculous, but fun. Timecrimes was fun and smart. Before the Fall was very disappointing. The Echo & Midnight Meat Train were underwhelming, but not terrible. REPO was fascinating, but not for the right reasons. I remember really liking What We Do is Secret, but I was still kinda drunk and ended up vomiting after the film... And the less we say about Mother of Tears the better.

I guess the biggest thing I'll take away this year is the people I met, being that it's the first year I've actually had the time to try to network. In some ways it was a great event for me to take part in being new to a city because I met a lot of like-minded people in a very short amount of time, and it was the sort of ego boost I needed to get back into the film writing thing.

Which reminds me. Film Threat finally got around to posting six more of my reviews, which I have linked to for you:

Who Is KK Downey
The Echo
Sparrow
La creme
I Think We're Alone Now
After the Fall

I've got three more I'm working on and two that are pending. I'll post links as soon as they go up.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

A Tale of Two Musicals...


Or Why You Should Ignore REPO! and Watch Dr. Horrible Instead.

So, like I told you on Thursday, I got into a press screening of REPO! The Genetic Opera since a) the official Fantasia world premiere screening on Friday night was TOTALLY sold out and b) L and I went to George Michael on Friday.

When I first heard about the project I have to say I had my doubts, but coverage on io9 and in Rue Morgue had piqued my interest. Also, the wacky casting was intriguing and I love me some Anthony Stewart Head. Let's just say that I wasn't entirely surprised with what I saw, just a little disappointed. Which isn't to say it's terrible, it just isn't very good. You can read what I have to say in more detail on Film Threat whenever they post my review.

However, on Friday I also discovered that Joss Whedon's writer's strike project, Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog, was in full swing with two of the three acts already available online (click the pic below to watch). Part three went up on Saturday and all three parts still seem to be available on iTunes and streaming on www.drhorrible.com.

I had some time to kill at work so I watched the first two parts and it was very interesting to compare the two projects. While REPO! is more of a full fledged opera, Dr. Horrible is definitely the stronger of the two lyrically and even possibly musically. And this despite Dr. Horrible being a comedy and REPO! aiming for tragedy. Of course it helps that I love all three of the leads (Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion & The Guild's Felicia Day) almost equally (although I think Neil Patrick Harris wins, but only because of that scene in Harold & Kumar where he does blow off a stripper's ass).

Or maybe I'm just more of a closet comic book nerd than I am a closet goth?
What do you think?

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Back to the Grind

Okay, so I survived my visit to Vancouver and I'm back at work and reviewing for Fantasia (a.k.a. the film festival that never ends). Only made it to one film yesterday, a press screening of REPO! The Genetic Opera, before meeting L for dinner and almost passing out in my Pho. I'm pretty happy with the review for that one, so I'll be linking to it as soon as it goes up later this week.

Also, thanks to everybody who caught my first movie night column in three years (yikes). If you didn't see it I've linked to it here.

And because I mentioned it earlier, I did managed to record a commentary for Purple Rain with BJ and Damon (no Robin) during my marathon visit to VanCity. If and when it gets posted on the internet I will let you know.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Fantasia: Day 5

Reviewing and working a day job is definitely starting to take a toll on me. I've been averaging two movies a day, but I think I'm only going to make it to The Sparrow tonight, being that I still need to get a hold of people out West and pack for my trip on Wednesday.

Films so far have been more hit than miss, with the biggest miss of all being Mother of Tears on Saturday. Actually, it almost qualifies as so bad it's good, which I'm sure isn't much consolation to Argento fans. L remarked on the fact that everyone who was leaving the theater had the same stricken look like their dad had just died. It really is saying something that the best part of the film, and everyone seemed to agree with me on this one, is the monkey. If you have a chance to see this movie, do yourself a favour and skip it, lest you break your heart. Or at least make sure you've got one hell of a buzz going on.

The other miss was opening film Truffe, which despite some cool visuals and uniformly good performances wasn't quite weird enough for me to recommend. It's unusual for a Quebecois film, but the thin story probably would have worked better as a short.

Surprises so far were MMORPG documentary Second Skin and Miike Takashi's Sukiyaki Western Django, which is way more entertaining than it had any business being. Strange? You bet, but rather accessible by Miike standards. Still, I'd be damned if I could have understood the English dialogue without the English subtitles.

Three of the stronger films I've seen so far were all Spanish: indie horror [REC], which is far more effective than it could have been (I screamed out loud more than once), sci-fi who done it Timecrimes and apocalyptic crime thriller Before the Fall (3 Dias). Out of the three, Before the Fall was my least favourite, due largely to an over reliance on cliche and Hollywood style plotting and character development.

Also good were Who's that Knocking on My Door, a quiet revenge film from Korea and Germ's biopic What We Do is Secret, although I'm going to have to meditate a bit more on this last one. Parts of it reminded me of 24 Hour Party People it the way it captured the energy and excitement of a scene, but some parts were playing it a little safer than maybe they should have.

Another highlight was watching Gordon Liu tear up during the multiple standing ovations he received before and after the screening of Disciples of the 36th Chamber, an airy and infectiously fun Shaw bros kung-fu pic.

I've got to hang out with a bunch of cool people so far, including festival programmers Mitch, Simon, Mi-jeong and King-wei, Simon and Rick from The Naked Lunch radio show and Jason and Rob of Hobo with a Shotgun fame.

And for those who are interested, Film Threat has already posted some of my reviews:

Truffe
Sukiyaki Western Django
[REC]
Who's that Knocking at My Door

And Jeremy and I also collaborated on a pre-festival piece.

My new movie night column, Meeko's Movie Night Massacre will go online tomorrow.

Ooh, and if you wanna check out the Fantasia Trailers, go here. And there are video recaps of each day of the fest on YouTube.

Friday, July 04, 2008

Update


Sorry for the lack of posting lately. Things have been hella busy with Kat & Doug in town last week and my impending trip to Vancouver.

And Fantasia is in full swing and I'm going to be reviewing for two sites: Film Threat and Oddity Cinema.

Also, I started a new movie night column with Film Threat which should be posted to the site early next week.

Upcoming: Commentary for Purple Rain with BJ, Robin and Damon.

Stay tuned.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Warning: Mild spoilers to follow. If you haven't seen it yet, stop reading now. Otherwise, you've been warned.

So, like the mindless fangirl zombie that I am, I accepted my company's social committee's invitation and snapped up a stack of tix for "that movie with the old guy in the hat with the wip" for my friends and I. Thing is, I really wasn't that excited about it. I had done my best to avoid reading spoilers, promotional interviews, advanced reviews or anything else that would rouse my interest beyond, "Yeah, I should probably try to see it before everybody else tells me about it." What I did absorb prior to last night was a) The plot had something to do with aliens and b) The critical mass was largely positive.

And I guess it was these low to no expectations that informed my enjoyment of the film because I was the only one out of the six of us who seemed to genuinely enjoyed the movie. Is it perfect? No. Are there moments of staggering, eye-rolling stupidity that I'm going to blame on Lucas? Yes. Is the climax kind of abrupt and not very satisfying? Yes, but that's okay because the climax isn't the end and the ending is just fine, thank you very much.

Also, and I really hate to admit this in public, but I think I'm getting over my irrational hatred of Shia LaBeouf. At least until the next Transformers movie comes out, anyways.

I won't bother rehashing the plot because everybody knows that that's not what's important about an Indiana Jones movie. What I am going to try to do is identify what it is I liked about this movie and why.

First off, it's short and well paced. I have to say that one of my biggest pet peeves with the current crop of genre/action movies is that they are all WAY TOO FRAKKING LONG. I'm pretty sure Peter Jackson is to blame for this one, but Michael Bay took it to new, redonculous levels with last year's noisy time-waster, Transformers. Everyone has forgotten that "less is more". I don't care if you can stretch the movie out to 3 hours to fit in more explosions and guys jumping around on unconvincing CG sets. Just give me a beginning, a middle and an end and get to the end before I start wondering where it is. Making your movie longer, does not make it more interesting or important. You are not making The Godfather, you are making a B-movie with a decent budget. And that's a-okay.

The other thing that struck me about Crystal Skull, and it's related to my first point, is that it was kind of old fashioned in it's storytelling. This, I think, is one of the strength's of the Indy franchise. It wears it's B-movie origins on its sleeve without veering (too often, anyway) into high camp. It's exciting and playful, and the humour is warm and gentle. No crass cynicism, no irony trying to cramp its way down. And it's cut more old-fashioned too. The camera is allowed to sweep majestically across the landscape (bonus points to those who spotted the Touch of Evil Reference near the beginning) and the cuts are organic and preserve the integrity of the action. You can tell who is who in a fight. This is all instantly attributable to Spielberg and what makes him stand out from those who would assume his place as blockbuster movie king. No one, and I mean no one, is able to blend artistry and action the way that Spielberg can and that is why he is and will always be king. His true reverence for the origins of American genre film making are obvious and reassuring to me in a way. His is a respect that is all but dead, and it makes me very sad to think of what we are losing the American film cannon becomes newer and newer.

I liked seeing Harrison Ford and Karen Allen together again. I liked that it had a sentimental ending. I liked that it was set during the cold war. I liked that the big bad was a girl and that she was played by Cate Blanchett with a Natasha Fatale accent. I liked that Mutt was a greaser, even if those first shots of him in the hat made me giggle like a grade-schooler. I liked that it was set in the Amazon. I liked that it had a sword fight. And I even liked the aliens, so sue me.

And now what I didn't like. The prairie dogs were too plentiful and cutesy. Ditto for the monkeys. And the less I say about the repeated shots of Shia grabbing his junk, the better we'll all sleep at night. That said, I think a lot of the current backlash really has to do with people my age having inappropriate expectations. Imagine if you were a 12 year old watching Indy 4 in a theater. You would freaking LOVE it. Or maybe you wouldn't. Maybe today's 12 year old would find the elegant pacing and old fashioned charms too quaint. Without a boyhood admiration for Harrison Ford and Karen Allen, would their reunion mean as much? Who was this movie really made for? The 12 year olds, now grown, who grew up on the Indy movies? Or the 12 year olds of today, whose fanboy dads (and moms) dressed them in Indy drag and trundled them to the theaters? Honestly, considering these dueling target markets, I think the film did a very good job of appealing to both simultaneously. Was it high art? No, but neither were the first three. Was it silly? Yes, but it was also a lot of fun and dammit sometimes that's good enough.

Could anything have lived up to 20 years of hype and speculation? I will say this, though, and I think it's important to keep in mind: warts and all, it was still a hundred times better than even the best bits of the Star Wars prequels. And yeah, I went there.

Friday, May 02, 2008

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Iron Man

The boy and I caught a preview screening of Iron Man yesterday, and I have to say that even with my high expectations, I left the theater pretty damn satisfied. Despite some initial reservations after learning that it was rated G, I've got to hand it to director Jon Favreau. He managed to make an entertaining superhero flick that was adult enough for me to enjoy, but tame enough to deliver the wide audience the studio wanted. It's pretty violent without being exploitive and Favreau is able to imply quite a bit without really showing anything.

While the plot is pretty standard and simplistic, the true strength of the film is the performances. Robert Downie Jr. is perfectly cast as the narcissistic scientist bad-boy come superdude Tony Stark. His dry wit and luminous charisma create a character the audience wants to root for, regardless of your familiarity with the original comic book. Jeff Bridges is predictably good and makes for a smooth and compelling villain, easily matching wits with Downie but never outshining him as often happens in these types of films. Terrence Howard is serviceable as Jim Rhodes and Favreau even gives himself a bit part as Stark's driver, Hogan.

Most surprising of all is Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts, Stark's long suffering assistant. Often the female lead becomes a super-hero film's greatest weakness (see Halle Berry, Kirstin Dunst, Katie Holmes, etc...), but Paltrow is one of those few actresses who "gets it". She does not resort to camp, although her portrayal of Pepper is delightfully flighty, and she is able to participate as a close equal to Stark. She is at turns on the ball and out of her depths, a sidekick but never second banana. The chemistry between Paltrow and Downie is also very strong and I would even say it is one of the film's great strengths.

The film clips along at a decent pace, lacking the bloat of many recent superhero movies being just over two hours long. The effects are impressive and fluid, never hijacking the story and the designs for the Iron Man and Iron Monger suits are beautiful to look at. If you like action movies, R.D. Jr. or superheros, see this movie. Also, stay until the very end of the credits for a special treat...

Friday, April 25, 2008

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Apocalypse Edition

Last weekend we watched three movies with apocalyptic overtones, but luckily it is sunny and warm and the Habs are winning so my outlook is still pretty positive.

First up, Right at Your Door (2006): This one screened at Fantasia last year as part of a series on Urban Apocalypses that included Mulberry Street (see below) and the excellent The Signal. The premise is straight forward enough: after seeing his wife, Lexi (Mary McCormack) off to work, Brad (Rory Cochrane, best known as Slater from Dazed and Confused) is shaken from his lazy morning routine by a series of explosions in downtown L.A. Being the good husband he is, his first instinct is to hit the road and rescue his wife who is stuck in traffic with a dead cell phone, but panicking cops and fellow motorists mean that he can't get past the L.A. suburb where there new house is located. He returns home to plot his next move and is startled to find the gardener from next door in his house. The gardener convinces Brad to seal up his house from the inside as the radio instructs as it now seems the explosions were "dirty" in nature and toxic ash is showering down on most of the Los Angeles area.

The real drama starts when Lexi returns, having walked home after abandoning her car on the freeway. Being that Brad isn't the only one in the house now, he makes the agonizing decision to leave Lexi outside since she is covered in ash and therefore "contaminated". Will she survive long enough for help to find them, and when help does arrive, will it be enough?

While certainly far from perfect, Right At Your Door does an excellent job of ratcheting up the tension with limited funds and locations. Writer/Director Chris Gorak wisely puts the focus on the actors, making the film more about Brad and Lexi's relationship than about the citywide meltdown happening around them. The result is a film that is instantly relevant to the viewer, unlike other overblown apocalyptic films like Deep Impact, for example. The film is as much about whether Lexi will survive her toxic exposure as whether Lexi and Brad's relationship will survive this incredible strain on their relationship.

Where the film starts to break down is after the introduction of new characters and locations. Lexi strays multiple times from the back porch, sneaking through neighbors yards and even rescues a young boy she finds wandering around. The introduction of the child does add a nice moment where Brad ponders about the children they never had, but the forays ultimately slow down the momentum that has been building and dilutes the feeling or claustrophobia that drives much of the tension in the film.

However, these nitpicks are minor in light of the excellent performances provided by both Cochrane and McCormack. The chemistry between the two actors is very good and it is easy to believe that they are a married couple in their 30's full of love and frustrations. Where the film really breaks down is the Twilight Zone-ish twist ending, but everything else up to that point is good enough to still recommend the film highly as a well written, intelligent and nuanced portrait of urban paranoia.

Later that same day we indulged our curiosity and rented Southland Tales (2006), Richard Kelly's long shelved follow up to Donnie Darko. Remember how I was talking about overblown crap? This is pretty much the definition. While I'm sure Kelly and his buddies in the movie (including Kevin Smith) will get a kick out of watching the movie together and reminiscing about the fun they had shooting it, I cannot figure out for the life of me how it got made in the first place. It is confusing, poorly constructed, wildly self-indulgent and ultimately, largely boring.

Somehow, there is still a certain charm to it that I can't quite place my finger on. Maybe it's the fact that it's so clearly the bizarre vision of one person, even if that vision isn't really that interesting. Maybe it's the fact that the best performances in the thing come from Seann William Scott and Sarah Michelle Geller. Maybe it's to do with the rampant stunt casting: Christopher Lambert as an underground militant, Wallace Shawn in lipstick, Kevin Smith in old-man make-up... Maybe it has to do with Kelly's choice to cast the comedians in the dramatic roles (Cheri Oteri, Will Sasso, Jon Lovitz, Amy Poeler, etc.) with mixed results. However, whatever it is it is not enough to recommend the film. It is just too long and too weird and too all over the place to justify sacrificing 2 and a half hours of your life to watch it. Oh, did I mention it's narrated by Justin Timberlake?

Normally I revel in the "so bad it's good", but Southland Tales feels more misguided than anything else. It clearly wants to be funny and wacky, but is instead tacky and forced. The script feels mainly like an excuse to get famous people to say really dirty things. The construction of this post-apocalyptic world wants to be nuanced and political, but is instead juvenile and half-baked. I can't call it a disappointment because my expectations going in were very low, but it will undoubtedly go down in history as one of the greatest miscalculations a major studio has ever made. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention: it's also a musical. Drugs might have helped, but I kinda doubt it.

Luckily, the third film of the day washed away the stale taste. Mulberry Street is similar to Right at Your Door in that they are both low budget, limited location horror flicks with a very simple premise. This time the setting is New York and the premise is this: the rats have started attacking people who then turn into ferocious, man-eating "rat people". Sounds pretty stupid, right? Well it isn't. It's actually really, really good and the perfect antidote to overblown crap.

Like Right at Your Door, Mulberry Street focuses on characters to make the outlandish events accessible to the viewer. The setting is a tenement on Mulberry Street which has recently been purchased for development with the tenants facing imminent eviction. The first character we are introduced to is Clutch (Nick Damici), a retired boxer awaiting the return of his daughter, Casey (Kim Blair), who has just been released from the veteran's hospital after a stint in Iraq. Clutch is a good guy, shy when it comes to women (specifically his neighbor Kay (Bo Corre)), and always willing to help out the elderly or less fortunate. Damici, who also co-wrote the script, gives an excellent and nuanced performance, really adding to the film's effectiveness.

The rest of the plot is fairly formulaic: rats attack people, people attack people, everybody freaks out, citizens of tenement fight back; but what makes it work is what director Jim Mickle left out. First off, there are no guns & no clever kills. Clutch and Casey fight back with what they've got: fists and heavy things. Second, there are no clever one liners. which isn't to say there aren't moments of humour, but it's the kind of dark, deadpan humour that suits the story and the characters. And most importantly, the film is not a cliche laden, movie referencing comedy. Everything is played deadly straight, resulting in real empathy, real tension and real suspense.

Shot for about $30,000 in the director's apartment, Mulberry Street is the kind of serious, thoughtful indie horror that deserves to be celebrated. Highly recommended.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Junior

The NFB (ONF out here) does a free screening series on Tuesdays at their Cineroboteque downtown and this week Marie-Claude and I checked out a very interesting documentary about junior hockey called, appropriately enough, Junior.

Filmmakers Isabelle Lavigne and Stephane Thibault followed the Baie-Comeau Drakkar for an entire season, focusing not on the drama on the ice, but the drama off the ice. In fact, there is no game footage in the film at all.

For people not that familiar with the behind the scenes of Major Junior League hockey, the film is definitely an eye opener. The majority of the players have agents and the business aspects of the league are obvious. While the coaches do believe that they can turn these boys, generally in the 16 - 20 age range, into major league players, they have other considerations as well: filling seats, keeping league officials and team owners happy and potentially propelling their own careers.

The film opens with Benjamin Brault, one of the Drakkar's star players being lectured by a man we eventually learn is his agent. His face is that typically blank canvas of the teenage male visage, equal parts stoicism and dumbfoundedness. We are not sure how much of this he is absorbing, but we are equally unsure of how much we want him to absorb. For a kid who really does look like he'd rather hang out with girls and party all night, there is a lot of pressure coming from a lot of different places.

The film is particularly hard hitting because of the techniques employed by the directors. There is no game footage, and there are also no interviews. All reactions are authentic, as they happened. The sense of the audience really is that of being a fly on the wall, in the locker room, in the coach's office, on the bus, in hotel rooms. We are even privy to a secret trade negotiating meeting in a Tim Hortons (it really doesn't get much more Canadian, does it?)

Typically poker faced players and coaches are subjected to unending close-ups, the better to catch a tell-tale eyebrow twitch or shift in focus. The close-ups are so tight as to almost induce a sense of claustrophobia in the viewer, which ultimately increases the drama in what are in a lot of cases one-sided or one word conversations.

It is also interesting that the Drakkar are not a particularly winning team. They struggle through most of the season and the heartbreak of the players is obvious, particularly when they don't even manage to win the last game of the season. It is not often that you see that many teen aged boys all crying in the same room. We are also privy to last minute trades against the wishes of the player and painful surgery.

While ultimately a very quite film, but powerful enough to be recommended as essential viewing for anyone with children with ambitions of playing major league sports.

The film will also be airing on Radio-Canada on May 1st.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Funny Games (2008)

Last night we went to see Michael Haneke's American remake of his own film: Funny Games. I had been avoiding Haneke for a long time, not sure if I would be able to stomach his reportedly brutal and downbeat style. But being that I had survived both Irreversible and A Hole In My Heart and actually enjoyed them-- at least on an intellectual level-- it seemed time to give Haneke a try.

While I usually prefer to go into a film blind, I opted to readKatrina Onstad's review on CBC.ca first as I generally respect her opinion and find her to be an excellent writer. For the most part I agree with what she says, although admittedly I have not seen the original and cannot compare them. But, a shot for shot remake ten years after the fact is a curious for your American directing debut.

In a way it makes perfect sense, as it is a rather didactic comment on the American appetite for glossy film violence, one that for the most part was overlooked by the intended audience because lord knows Americans can't be bothered to "read" their movies. And so it was relocated to the Hamptons and English speaking actors capable of convincing American accents were cast.

The film is full of harrowing and impressive acting, particularly Michael Pitt as the chief attacker. Naomi Watts and Tim Roth also turn in predictably strong and emotional performances as the set upon couple, and Devon Gearhart as their son shows talent beyond his years. But, middle-class coldness and the ineffectual American male have become cliches in the intervening years since the original film and act as barriers between the viewer and the characters. But this is likely by design.

However, the film is not simply an "examination of violence" as most critics dismissively have called it. In its construction and content, Funny Games is almost a joke on the audience, mean spirited to those not expecting it, and absurdist to those who are.

The biggest joke, of course, is that very little graphic violence is actually shown on screen. The most horrific violence is only implied with sound effects and careful framing. What he does show is the mundane, the meaningless details and rituals that we cling to even in times of crisis. In an age where studios greedily green light so called "Torture Porn", Haneke's remake is at once a comment on our appetite for violence and a cinematic scolding for our lack of intellectualism.

But to compare Funny Games with something like Saw is to sorely miss the point. The most graphic scene in the film is the one the audience is actually yearning for, not in a sadistic, voyeuristic way, but in a way that satisfies our cinema fed sense of justice. The small audience in the theater with us actually cheered at that scene, which seemed to be the reaction Haneke was going for, since the audience is chastised immediately following the scene with an audacious, almost comical, rupture of the four wall.

Self-reflectivity is introduced early on as a device in the film, with Michael Pitt speaking directly to the camera at numerous points, challenging the viewer to deny their complicitness in the proceedings. And while Haneke does make an interesting point about the role of the viewer, the message feel old and empty. And that is certainly part of the point too.

While pretension usually upsets me in a director, Haneke's cinematic lecture was more like a joke that he himself was in on. It is an intellectual exercise masquerading as a thriller. It wants you to be horrified and angry and upset, because those are the predictable, and in a way most comforting, reactions to the film. But dismissing something solely because it upsets us is both unfair and simplistic.

While the message of the film is far from fresh, Haneke's skill as a director cannot be denied. The specter of Hitchcock is clearly present in the careful framing of visual clues. Even the plot can be seen as an allusion to Rope, with its privileged boys who murder for sport. But while Hitchcock had Jimmy Stewart to dismiss the villain's intellectual arguments, Haneke does not rely on a "voice of reason". He wouldn't see the point.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Mémoires Affectives & Mon Fille, Mon Ange

After trying and failing to watch the Jutras (Quebec's answer to the Oscars) a couple weeks ago (just too "French" for me, and by "French" I mean "lame"), we opted instead to rent some of the movies that were either nominated or had won in previous years. While compiling a list of our options we discovered that we had missed out on quite a few recent, good, Quebecois films, so we've got some work ahead of us.

That night we rented Mémoires affectives (2004), Séraphin: un homme et son péché (2002) and the "classic" Quebecois comedy, Elvis Gratton (1981).

After staring at the screen in disbelief for the first 10 minutes of Elvis Gratton, I decided that I would rather watch "the one about the guy in the coma", so we popped in Mémoires affectives with former pretty-boy Roy Dupuis. In the 18 or so years since endearing himself to every pre-teen girl in Quebec with his role in the seminal tele-roman, Les Filles de Caleb, M. Dupuis has managed to develop into quite a talented actor and is easily one of the biggest stars in the province.

The film opens with someone taking Alex (Dupuis) off of life support, but instead of just dying the act forces him out of the coma he has been in for the last 6 months. As a side effect of being in a coma for so long, Alex has almost complete amnesia and is therefor useless to the multiple police investigations he is involved with, the first pertaining to who tried to kill him in the hospital and the second being how he found himself in the coma in the first place.

His wife, Michelle (Nathalie Coupal), from whom he was estranged at the time of his accident; wants to pretend that everything is fine and that the years of trouble never happened. His daughter, Sylvaine (Karine Lagueux), is disgusted by what she perceives as her mother's hypocrisy, but she too struggles with what role she wants this man to play in her life. Alex, for his part, is more concerned with putting back together the pieces of his identity, even if the resulting picture is less than admirable.

I won't give away too much more of the plot as one the most engaging things about the film is trying to put together all the disparate memories and clues together along with Alex. We discover information at the same time as the character and because of Dupuis' touching performance we are usually as surprised and disappointed as he is when the information is negative. Unfortunately, the director introduces too many mysteries to properly resolve all of them at the end of the film, but this is far from a reason to avoid the film.

The film is similar in many ways to Memento in the way that it plays on our notions of memory and identity, but in many ways it is a much stronger film because it focuses more heavily on character development and setting. The acting is uniformly good, with Dupuis stealing the show with a nuanced and sympathetic portrayal of a man literally searching for himself. The cinematography is beautiful in that typically Canadian way and the choice to set the film in Baie St-Paul in the winter yields some spectacular shots.

Overall, Mémoires affectives (Looking for Alex in English) is a very strong Canadian film and while not perfect, it is definitely worth a look.

That Wednesday we rented the "controversial" Mon Fille, Mon Ange (My Daughter, My Angel). Promoted as a gritty look at the real world of online porn, the film is actually a Holywood-ized who-done-it melodrama, with some of Michel Côté's hammiest acting to date. And yes, that is saying something.

Côté (who L. likes to call Quebec's answer to Al Pacino), plays Germain Degenais, a former lawyer now working for the office of a prominent cabinet minister in the Quebec legislature. His daughter, Nathalie (Karine Vanasse), has taken off to the big bad city of Montreal to attend university and unbeknownst to her parents, fallen in with the wrong crowd: namely, strippers and pornographers. While settling in to an evening of "working" alone in his study, Germain is shocked (shocked I say!) to discover his "ange" promoting herself on a porn site as "Samantha", the new girl. See, she's going to be poppin' her porno cherry live in 4 days, meaning Germain has only 4 days to get to Montreal, find, and save his little girl.

The film utilizes an interesting device of starting at the end, the result being one dead porno producer, and tracing things back through Germain's admission to a work colleague and Nathalie's interrogation by a police detective, played by Christian Begin. We don't actually know who killed the sleaze-bag and the film does a good job of conceiling the true killer right up until the end. Both Nathalie and Germain confess that the other has done a terrible thing, and its up to the audience to determine what is meant by their statements. Neither one is what the other believes them to be, Nathalie the perfect student is really Nathalie the backdoor slut and Germain's perfect political exterior covers some rather shocking rage issues; but does that make either one of them a killer?

The film is briskly paced at an hour and 25 minutes, so the audience is seldom bored. However, this doesn't leave much room for plausible character development and this is the film's greatest weakness. The exception is Laurence LeBeouf as Nathalie's childhood friend Angelique, who radiates with a primal energy in her portrayal of an almost middle-class girl in way over her head and she deservedly won this year's Jutra prize for breakout performance.

While entertaining enough, Mon fille, mon ange is a largely forgettable who done it and not really worth seeking out.

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Persepolis

Let me say it right now: the Oscars are a crock of shit. Some of you may not be surprised by that statement, and I have long held that sentiment, particularly after having read Robert S. Sennett's book Hollywood Hoopla which goes into the social and economic conditions in which lead to the creation of the Academy Awards. Basically, ticket sales were dropping so they needed a big glitzy event to get people excited about movies. Celebrating "artistic achievement" was an afterthought.

However, my opinion was further cemented upon having watched the moving and beautiful Persepolis, which just lost the best animated feature Oscar to Ratatouille. Don't get me wrong, I like Pixar as much as the next girl. I think Brad Bird is extremely talented. And while I haven't actually seen Ratatouille yet, I have a very hard time believing that a comedy about a cooking rat is more deserving of an Oscar, the American symbol of excellence in film, than Persepolis, which is a socially relevant, innovatively realized, important work of ART. It further elevates animation being children's entertainment, and proves that countries other than the US and Japan can consistently produce compelling animation.

Based on the graphic novel of the same name, Persepolis is the biographical memoir of Marjane Satrapi, who grew up Iran during the fall of the Shah. The film starts as a fascinating look at revolution and war from a child's perspective, then slowly shifts to become a more general coming of age tale, coloured by war and tragedy and oppression. Director Vincent Parronaud wisely chose to stay as close to the original artwork as possible and Satrapi is credited as is credited as a Co-Director. While the drawings themselves may seem overly simple compared to the CGI wizardry of Pixar, they are the images that best suit the story and are complemented nicely by Satrapi's evocative backgrounds and subtle facial animations.

Although the story itself contains many sad moments, it is far from being dreary and is more personal than it is pedantic. It is overall an uplifting and inspiring story about maintaining one's personal integrity, no matter what.

Being that the graphic novel was originally written in French, I was lucky enough to see the film with the original French language track, without subtitles. I am not sure how the film is being shown in other parts of the world, but I do recommend viewing it with the original language track if possible as the voice acting is very strong and adds to the emotional impact of the film. Particularly great is Gabrielle Lopes as the voice of Marjane as a child, and I would be remiss if I did not mention Catherine Deneuve as the voice of Marjane's mother.

As to why the film was so sorely overlooked, there are several possible reasons. Some political, some not:

1) No one bothered to watch it. - This is the most likely reason, and why I've never felt that the Oscars deserve the amount of prestige that people continue to associated with them.

2) It is in Black and White. - Black and White = Old fashioned & boring to Hollywood. And yet the framing sequences set in the present are in colour and the use of a black and white colour scheme is clearly meant as a stylistic choice.

3) It is 2D animation. - 2D = Old Fashioned. This is why Disney closed their 2D animation studio, even though 2D animation is still cheaper to produce and is still artistically relevant (perhaps even more so now than it has ever been).

4) It is in a foreign language. - Because God forbid you have to read when you go to the movies.

5) It presents an alternative view of Iran, enemy of the US. - It's a lot harder to make a case for bombing the shit out of a country if you realize they're just as fucked up and diverse as the rest of us.

6) Satrapi's family are unapologetic Communists. - Okay, this one's getting a little conspiracy-theory, but let's face it: the Academy has always been scared of Commies.

7) It comes from France. - Those Commie, freedom hating frog eaters! And again, God forbid a country that didn't spawn Walt Disney is capable of making animated films.

8) It's too arty. - It isn't an animated film if it doesn't have voice-work by washed-up comedians and songs by writers of the adult contemporary variety.

9) You can't take kids to it. - Well, you could, and I would recommend you did, although not under the age of 8; but that isn't necessarily the target audience. Apparently, animation isn't supposed to be "serious".

10) It's actually good. - Now I'm just being bitter...

Thursday, February 14, 2008

My Top 5 of 2007

Normally I abhor top whatever lists and avoid them like the plague. Too simplistic and arbitrary for my taste. But being that I haven't written about film in FOREVER, a list seemed like the simplest and most elegant way to jump back into it. So with the Oscars right around the corner here's a list of my top 5 favourite movies of 2007:

1. No Country for Old Men - Dir. Coen Brothers: This movie deserves every bit of praise that is being heaped upon it and then some. And I actually loved the ending, which many people have complained about. I'm sure being raised on Westerns has contributed to my appreciation for the film, and I consider this a better representation of a modern Western than most things that have come along. My boy Josh Brolin was the star for me, although Javier Bardem is great. But we kinda expect that from him. Brolin is the son of a B-actor married to Barbara Streisand and he used to be engaged to Mimi Driver, so nobody really expects much of anything from him, but his portrayal of the classic Western anti-hero was nuanced and brilliantly crafted. That said, I can't actually think of a single bad performance in the whole thing. The violence that turned some people off was integral to the story and particularly the ending. Easily one of the Coens' best ever.

2. Juno - Dir. Ivan Reitman: If I had to describe this movie in one word, it would be easy: lovely. Sweet, profane, smart and extremely life affirming. While one friend dismissed the dialogue as "too hip", only one character was particularly hip in their speech and they were treated as an oddity by the other characters. And, it's a movie. People are supposed to be hipper, smarter, cuter and funnier. Otherwise I'd save my money and call a friend. It's also nice to see smart people having babies.

3. Control - Dir. Anton Corbijn: Okay, fine, so I'm a little biased on this one. But my only caveat is that it did drag a little in areas, particularly for those not already familiar with the story. Emily Watson was the perfect choice to play Deborah Curtis and the painterly framing and lighting was a marvel to watch. The decision to use the actor's performances in the musical sequences was also inspired. An awespiscious feature film debut and one that sadly I doubt Corbijn will be able to live up to.

4. Blackbook - Dir. Paul Verhoeven: Although technically released in 2006, it didn't make it to North America until 2007 so I'm going to count it. Surprisingly restrained for Verhoeven (despite some full frontal nudity and a lady covered in shit), his return to Holland and his reunion with writer Gerard Soeteman is his strongest work in years. A little old fashioned in tone, it's essentially a female version of his previous WWII adventure epic Soldier of Orange. I won't try recapping the plot, because it's just get messy real fast, but imaging mixing the Great Escape with Turkish Delight and you'll be half-way there. Also, Carice Van Houten should become an international superstar.

5. TIE Eastern Promises Dir. - David Cronnenberg / Michael Clayton - Dir. Tony Gilroy: Because I couldn't come up with a full 10, I decided to cheat a little and include a tie and an honourable mention. I put these films together because while they were both better than they should have been, the plots were too conventional to make them stand-out enough for me. Eastern Promises survives largely on the strength of Viggo Mortensen's performance, and while I have to admit I did not see the final twist coming, the storyline did seem to tie up a little too neatly for a Cronnenberg film. Thematically, A History of Violence is easily masterpiece, but Eastern Promises would not have been as good as it was without a director willing to go to those darkest places. Michael Clayton is also a triumph of directing, coupled with very, very strong writing. All of the actors are at the top of their game. Essentially a corporate thriller, Tom Wilkinson's portrayal of a man having a nervous breakdown and a bipolar episode is uncomfortably realistic.

Honourable mention: There Will Be Blood - Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson: My dislike of PT Anderson is well known to those I am closest too, and I have been known to go on long spite filled rants when asked my opinion of the self-proclaimed auteur. However, it looks more and more like my rants are based on my feelings towards one film, Magnolia, and that I am not alone in considering this Mr. Anderson's weakest and most self-indulgent work. Arguably, most of his work falls under the category of "self-indulgent", but with TWBB his talent as a filmmaker can no longer be debated. A harrowing epic of one thoroughly unlikable man's climb to the top, comparisons to "Citizen Kane" are not out of place even if Anderson's film is that much more sinister and bleak. There is an old fashioned elegance borrowed from Wells at work in the film, which helps to temper some of the more eccentric and over the top choices, and the grounding in gritty reality provides the humanity that Day Lewis' character lacks. Which brings me to my central point regarding the film. The film is about one man, and that man is Daniel Day Lewis and though cliched, tour-de-force is the only real description of what he delivers. Paul Dano also distinguishes himself as being able to hold his own against Lewis, no small feat.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: C.R.A.Z.Y. & Control

Sorry I haven't been updating this as regularly as I would have liked, but the last week has been a never ending cavalcade of packing, cleaning and last minute socializing. However, we did manage to sneak a couple of movies in there as well.

C.R.A.Z.Y. This 2005 film was a monster hit in Quebec and apparently one in eight Quebequers saw it in theatres. It also swept the Genies that year and had been on our to watch list for a while. So, in an attempt to further psych ourselves up for the move we decided to finally give it a chance. And I am very glad we did. Backed by an awesome period soundtrack (which apparently ate up most of the budget), C.R.A.Z.Y. tells the story of the Beaulieu family, a fairly average French Catholic family and their "exceptional" second youngest son, Zachary. See, while all four boys are very different, Zack is the wrong kind of different, the kind that alienates him for much of his childhood from his macho father (an excellent Michel Côté). The highlights of the film were definitely the performances, particularly Côté, Danielle Proulx as the mother and Marc-André Grondin as Zachary. I also recommend checking out this excellent CBC article.

Control If you've known me for any length of time you know that I am a HUGE diehard Joy Division fan, so when Beej informed me that the Ian Curtis biopic was playing at this year's VIFF, I had to squeeze it into the schedule, no matter what. And I have to admit that I was very apprehensive when I heard that Tony Wilson and Deborah Curtis had finally giving the project the go ahead, but the fact that they were basing the film on Deborah's heartbreaking book was some consolation. I also admit to having mixed feelings about Anton Corbijn as the director. Sure, it was fairly common knowledge that his move to England in the 1970's was inspired by Ian and Joy Division's music, but I have to say that I was not all that impressed by his music video output. While his grainy black and white esthetic is iconic, it doesn't really showcase a lot of depth or dramatic development.

However, all my fretting was for nought. Control is a beautiful, powerful, and very good film. Comparisions to Saturday Night, Sunday Morning are certainly appropriate as Macclesfield is a working class town and Joy Division was a working class band. Samantha Morton does a marvelous job as Debbie, never falling into the trap of playing the victim or the shrew, instead emphasizing her love for Ian and her initial starteling innocence. Sam Riley is also incredible as Ian, an ambitious but fragile man worn down by fate and his own fickle wants.

My other favourite preformances include Toby Kebbell as Rob Gretton, Craig Parkinson as Tony Wilson and Joe Anderson as a delightfully crabby Peter Hook.

The naturalistic and heartbreaking performances are aided by several directorial choices, including the use of a stark black and white portrait which both conveys the spirit of the kitchen sink dramas of the 1960s and allows Corbijn to best demontrate his painterly photographic style. Corbijns framing and use of shadows tell stories where the dialogue is absent, particularly in the way he frames those around Ian and Annik when they are together: backs turned perfectly away, but present and compliant none the less.

The other surprisingly effective trick employed by Corbijn was to have the actors to play their own instruments during the concert scenes. Because Joy Divisions music is not technically difficult, the difference in their playing is barely noticeable, but the immediacy and energy their playing brings to their scenes makes it incredibly easy to understand how they became popular so quickly. While Sam Rileys melodic tennor can be distrancting to those accustomed to Ian Curtis haunting mono-baritone, the power with which he sings conveys the character perfectly.

My only complaint is that because the film is such a slow burn, for those already intimate with Curtis story, it does seem to drag at times. And yet, eventhough we all know how the film has to end, it is even more heartbreaking than we could have imagined.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Grindhouse

WARNING: CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS & WHINY RANTING

Being that I’ve been running a monthly series of trash film double bills, inspired by the festival circuit and the old grindhouse era, it was pretty much a requirement that I see this film. Or these films, as a couple of our buddies figured out after three hours on their butts.

Now, it would be pretty easy to sit back and be all jaded about this project. Let’s face it, Tarantino isn’t exactly known as Mr. Original and I’m slowly learning that I’m actually only a little bit behind him on the trendy curve. Rodriguez I’ve regarded as consistently fresher, but his insistence on doing everything himself had resulted in a couple of sloppy outings (Spy Kids 3D & Once Upon a Time in Mexico, I’m looking at you) recently. However, I really liked Grindhouse. It did everything I wanted it to, it played to the audience and it made going to the movies an event. Even the fake trailers in between the films were super fun. It’s a tribute to an era and it manages to take what each director loved about that era and craft it into something distinctly theirs.

In many ways I feel that Rodriguez was more successful than Tarantino in this endeavor. He wore his influences on his sleeve, with hard boiled characters and pitch-perfect acting. His offering, Planet Terror, clips along at the breakneck pace Rodriguez is known for, but he still has time to introduce us to a great array of oddball characters and somehow manages to build sympathy for them. It’s heavy on the gross-out, but has a ludicrously endearing love story. It’s filled with jaw dropping performances, from Jeff Fehey to Josh Brolin to especially Rose McGowan. Freddy Rodriguez is an unlikely but wholly convincing action star and Michael Parks kicks fucking ass.

Death Proof on the other hand, spends so much time smashing you over the head with the fact that it’s a “Quentin Tarantino Movie” that the mood he managed to create was sadly overshadowed for me. I say sadly because, (and this is probably one of the more embarrassing things I will ever admit to the internets,) the teenage me adored him to the point where I had actually constructed a Q.T. mini-shrine in my high-school agenda planner. The other thing that is sad about my reaction to the Quentin film is that because he played it straighter, instead of loading on the one-liners and gore, he had the opportunity to make a truly great piece of trash. But no, it became the “I-think-Austin-is-cool-I-know-lots-about-old-movies-and-TV-shows-oh-and-did-you-know-I-like-UK-garage-now-Quentin-fucking-Tarantino-show”. The car chase at the end did kick fucking ass, though.

Really, what it came down to for me were the characters. While Rodriguez did play it more tongue in cheek, he created characters you could root for, even if everything was painted so broadly you couldn’t really identify with anybody. The only person I wanted to identify with in Death Proof was Stuntman Mike, but his smug swagger disappeared halfway through the film and we were left with nothing but another group of self-involved girls. I don’t care if one group was the hunted and one was the hunters. Same loudmouthed pretentious bitches, different pile.

I want to say something here about misogyny, but I know I have to be very careful because accusing a film of being misogynist can be a very reactionary thing to do. When you are dealing with a film about a man who stalks and murders women, misogyny just kind of goes with the territory. The story wouldn’t work as well without the objectification and subjugation of women and trust me; I am the last person to go on a feminist rant about a movie like this. However, as ballsy as Mr. Tarantino wants to think he is, in Death Proof it felt half-assessed and irresponsible. I understand that by having a group of chicks turn the tables on the lady killer he was trying to excuse his earlier glamourization of brutality against women. This despite the fact that our “heroines” leave one of their own (albeit not a bright one) to get raped so that they can go out joyriding. Okay, so that might be a stretch. At no point is it made explicit that chicky-poo in the cheerleaders outfit is going to get raped. But if it had really been a grindhouse exploitation film, she would have been. That is my point.

My other point is that if you are going to have male stomping she-heroines, make them interesting. I’m talking Tura Satana style psycho-cool. While the decision to kill stuntman Mike was startling and rewarding for the audience, it really didn’t make a lick of sense. Especially when their friend is back at the farm house getting raped, something they seem to have invited. Or maybe Rosario Dawson’s character was supposed to be a sadistic bitch that uses her perky persona to goad her friends into devious acts. Or maybe they’re all stupid.

The thing is if you take out all of the annoying “Tarantino-isms” and half-hearted misogyny I probably would have liked Death Proof even more than Planet Fear. Too bad Tarantino is coasting on pop-culture references and borrowed cool to the point of self parody.

Which brings me to my other big complaint about the films: where were the boobies?! At least there were some in the trailers, but real exploitation has ‘splosions and T&A! Hollywood pussies.