One hell of a way to bring the year to a close. I hate to use this term as it has completely lost it's meaning thanks to the multitude of people who use it to describe their breakfast, but Cloud Atlas is epic. Its ambition and scale elevate it above the level it would reach when judged by its excecution alone.
I should mention that your results may vary. My personal cinematic tastes can best be described as left of centre, seeing as how I consider both Crank and The Third Man to be among the best movies ever created. It must be said that Cloud Atlas definitely seems to be fairly polarizing. It's one of those movies that don't really have a middle ground. You either click with it, or you don't.
It may have taken 13 years for the Wachowkis to get their shit together again, but boy was it worth the wait.
Pretty, and wonderful to look at. Also the most sickening film I've seen this year. By the end of it I was making a face like this (・へ・) and not for the reasons you would expect.
Upside Down is a fantasy fairy tale. I wish someone would have told me this before I saw it. When I initially noticed the trailer, I quickly turned it off halfway because I didn't wanna see the best bits of the movie (as I always do with films I'm certain I'll be watching) and while this habit has served me very well indeed, it kinda backfired bigtime this once.
Before we get to the vomit inducing sickly sweetness, let me praise the beginning. It starts off with a nifty animated infographic type of dealio. As you probably surmised from the trailer, there's two worlds on top of eachother. How? Why? Fuck you, that's why. I wish more movies had the balls that Upside Down put on display.
So as the intro sequence rolls along we get some narration from the main character telling us the rules of the universe; 'This is how things are here.' and sure, it's completely illogical, impossible and stupid, but what I really liked is that instead of the movie wasting time on exposition, self-justification and explanation, it just dumps the rules of the world into the opening few minutes and then gets the hell on with the story.
So yeah, that was nice. The first quarter/half of the movie is also quite nice, but after that it kinda loses steam and gets lost in the most painfully cliched and overpoweringly perfect fairytale love story you done ever laid eyes upon. There's a certain point in the film where I just got the distinct impression that they pushed this aesthetic as far as they could, and then after that point they just kept doing more of the same because, well, runtime and shit.
And that really sucks for a number of reasons. Firstly, it sucks because the film does a hell of a job of continually raising the bar and every shot is prettier than the last, and then all of a sudden it just plateaus out. But it doesn't actually feel like a plateau, it feels like a nosedive specifically because it's done such a good job of constantly climbing higher.
Perhaps more pertinently to the readers of this site, it also sucks because the only single reason this movie is here is because of the visuals. And when that no longer drives the film, it just becomes a Twilightesque tween girl's wet dream.
And it also sucks because it sucks. Let me explain.
That narration I mentioned earlier. I liked it in some ways, hated it in others. I hated it because it asks some rhetoric questions and as soon as those questions are asked, it removes even the slightest hint of mystery or doubt as to how it's going to end. In those first few minutes, we're told the rules of the universe, and then the narrator asks something along the lines of 'are these rules set in stone or can love overcome them?' uhhhh fuck you narrator guy. Of course love is going to overcome any obstacle in any movie, but do you really need to ask it in such an explicit way?
Now, please brace yourself for some spoilers because I'm about to talk about the sickly sweetness that made me physically wince. Make sure you're holding onto something. Ready?
One of the laws of the world is that matter from one universe will always be affected by it's own gravity. So we have the boy, from down below, and the girl, from up top and the rules state that they must always be pulled apart by their respective worlds' gravities.
But this is where the POWER OF LOVE comes in. The girl from the world up top is now walking around in the world down below because she is pregnant with the boy's child, and this means that the matter is balanced out, you see? Or something. And this is how love overcame the laws of the universe. Ugh.
This whole revelation, the entire sequence, literally feels like it was handled by a 10 year old girl. While all of this is being delivered via insultingly poor dialogue, there is also the most ridiculously overdone sunrise ever. Ever. The film applied lensflare and bloom generously from the beginning, but my goodness did they pull out all the stops for this scene.
But wait! There's more! Literally seconds before we're treated to what the POWER OF LOVE is capable of, one of the supporting characters from up top shows up down below as well because SCIENCE. Now, the main character has been spending a lot of time on the other side but at great cost and great risk. And now this other dude just shows up nice and comfortable and he's like 'lol me too, lol.'
I still haven't quite decided whether this is intentional irony or a plot hole. In either case, it completely nullifies the POWER OF LOVE. Now, I'm all for the scientific method and all that, but this being a hardout fairytale love story I was baffled by this contradiction.
So, yeah. The film started off well enough, but soon lost its magical oompf. And then by the time the ending came along I was all like *wince*, both because of the horribly malformed and almost certainly unintentional juxtaposition of love and science, and also because of the painfully lubbydubbywaffywiffymiffymuffy ending.
Well gosh diggety darn it, this is a good 'un. But before we get to that, do you remember Tokyo!? No? Well, off you go then; watch it now.
It's ok, I'll wait right here until you get back.
A little earlier a few posts back I was lamenting the general lack of absurdity in cinema. I'm not talking about random weird shit, but genuine absurdity, which are two completely different things in my mind.
I can only assume that this movie was created as a direct response to this.
It's awesome! I kinda assumed that it was going to be Carax milking his leprechaun or whatever character in a feature length cash grab after Tokyo!'s relative success. I was preparing myself mentally for another difficult watch of indulgent and painfully drawn out arthouse circlewankery, I'm not entirely sure why (especially since I really loved Tokyo! also), that's just the impression I had going in.
I'm really happy to report that I was totally wrong on all counts. Nowadays it's really hard for a movie to get any kind of reaction out of me but man, a couple of times I became quite animated as I threw my hands up and chortled at what was unfolding in front of me with childlike wonder and disbelief.
Holy Motors is playful. Thankfully it leaves the fourth wall nice and intact, but it certainly has an air of self awareness without the slightest bit of irony or narcissism. It's funny and wonderful and more than just a few times surprisingly poignant and real, and these moments become all the more powerful because they are wrapped up in this insane movie.
We ride along with a man called Oscar for a day. He's got a pretty peculiar job; he has appointments. In each appointment he must become a character, and play a role. Not on stage or a set, but out in the real world. Whether it's an elaborate assassination or simply playing a disapproving father to a teenage girl, Oscar gets the instructions in a file, dons a wide range of crazy impressive makeup and costumes and plays his heart out. And my goodness, is he magnificent. Denis Lavant is incredible to watch.
To say any more about the movie would be kinda spoiling the fun, and I'm really not sure if I could add anything of any use anyway. Keep an open mind, and settle in for a good time. Watch drunk for extra points.
Grandiose, damn well near impenetrable dialogue, deliciously dark humour, and top notch performances (Paul Giamatti is incredible in this, and hot damn Juliette Binoche is still fine as all hell) tied up in what has to be the best shot movie of the year and of recent memory. It was a really nice way to spend an hour and a half.
Super rich asset manager does not need haircut, wants one anyway, and gets in his tricked out limo to go the barber. Fucks some women on the way, has a bunch of meetings, fucks some more women. The film is basically a series of gratuitous monologues ranging in topic from big picture politics and finance (and the picture is so damn big it crosses over into the abstract more often than not) to the shape and form of our protagonist's prostate.
I'm not even going to pretend otherwise; most of the dialogue went way over my head. It's often rapid-fire, abstractly philosophical pseudo-intellectual bullshit, and of course I'm only calling it such because I didn't get most of it. Every once in a while though something will click, and I'll be like, "YEAH! I GOT THAT! I know what they're talking about now!! :D" and I'll feel supersmart for a bit, but then the movie will go on and I'll get back to appreciating the cinematography in lieu of engaging with the subject matter. This didn't bother me. It was oddly enjoyable.
While Cosmopolis has nothing on the Cronenberg of old, it was still really nice to see the director revisit the stranger side of cinema. I'd really love to see that very particular brand of body-horror make a bit of a comeback, remade with modern technology. (How awesome was Splice?) Hollywood, make it happen please. I demand it. I can't imagine I'm the only one feeling this way.
Pattinson plays Eric Packer to perfection. I still haven't quite decided whether he's just an obsessive rich douchebag who gives zero shits, or an autistic idiot savant; he walks that line without fault. Is it cool to say this now, or must we all still give the poor guy shit for Twilight?
Packer's bodyguard, played by Kevin Durand was another wonderful highlight, but as I said everyone in this brought their A game, which no doubt made all the difference. Samantha Morton has a particularly highbrow speech that a less skilled performer would have butchered atrociously. She made it work, so props for that. I really didn't understand any of what she was saying, but she, like everyone else on the cast, seemed to be having a blast with it, which in turn means that we do too. It's infectious.
One of the things I really enjoyed about this one is the sense of contrast and alienation that comes through frequently via some tricky filmmaking. Packer gets in his superpimp limo and suddenly the world outside and the world inside are, well, worlds apart. He even has a team of bodyguards to make sure it stays that way - he wouldn't want the filthy masses infiltrating his meticulously looked after inner sanctum.
Usually, high budget films tend to have an all encompassing, throbbing hard on for ridiculously shallow depth of field during conversations. Hey, that's cool, you've got the megabudget cameras, go for it. Trouble is, it has been overused to the point of utter saturation, and it no longer really achieves its originally intended goal; that of parting the actor from the messy and unwanted background noise. Instead, it's just another convention amongst a series of conventions that Must Be Followed.
Here, almost every shot has a nice and clear view of everything, and instead of relying on all that boring blur (and I just fully realized how very sick of it I am, actually) it opts for using movement and framing instead to convey its message. Mise-en-scène over tired technique. This is probably the main reason I enjoyed looking at Cosmopolis so damn much. (I'm also pretty happy right now to have finally found a contextually meaningful use for that term.)
Packer's self-destructive downward spiral initiated by a bad financial decision on his part is quite absorbing, and what I would have called obtuse and overly verbose soliloquies at the start really became the overlying signature of the film, a part of its unique rhythm and appeal. If you're that way inclined the film (and the novel it's based on) also tie heavily into, and I can only assume comment on, real world events. The novel came out shortly after the 9/11 attacks on America, and of course the adaptation is now on the heels of the whole Occupy Wall St. movement. The story takes place around 2000 so there's also all that bubble stuff going on that I don't much understand. But if that sort of stuff floats your boat, this one is a must watch. You should probably get around to it even if it doesn't though, too.
This is something different. By that I mean this post is about a video game, not a movie.
Actually it's about a mod for Half-Life 2 called The Stanley Parable (2011), although Half-Life 2 is not required to play it; and it is fucking brilliant. By all means, take my word for it. Don't read about the game, don't watch any videos of the game, just go and play it; I post about it now because the sequel or remake or whatever (2013) is coming soon or something.
Time marches ever onwards. The sequel or remake or whatever I mentioned above has released and it is fucking sublime. But wait! There's more! I'm now currently so far into the future that a sequel or remake or whatever to that has been released called the Ultra Deluxe Edition (2022) and it is also good.
Holy shit writing this update is like I'm literally time travelling. Aren't we all? Neat.
An epic, festering mess of a movie that barely manages to meander through its own convoluted plot. It is so very bad, that it is in fact quite good. Kind of. Deserves to be seen, whatever the case.
Say what you will about Hollywood's regimented three act script structure, but without it we'd be lost in an abyss of self indulgence and personal whimsy. And if there are two terms to sum up Casshern, then those would be it. But there is something that I really really really must get off my chest right now: this is not sci-fi. It has nothing to do with sci-fi and the people who are calling it sci-fi are unequivocally wrong. Casshern is fantasy, albeit instead of wizards and dragons there are robots and robots. Still fantasy though. Not sci-fi.
So yeah, that script. Dear lord. Not only does it shit on the most common and widely accepted of writing conventions, but it positively lifts its middle finger and laughs in their face, even when judged by the considerably looser rules of Asian cinema. Problem is, I'm convinced that this is entirely unintentional. This is further exacerbated by the editing. The editing itself has a lot of issues, but in this particular instance I'm referring to the narrative progression. I was 40 minutes into the movie before I finally picked up the main plot thread, and things started falling into place. Sometimes that is OK. Here it is not.
There isn't any character development, we're just introduced to someone if we're lucky; usually people just show up out of nowhere, and then they remain completely unchanged, and then they'll likely die at some point. There is zero sense of distance, or journey - the characters sort of miraculously appear at wherever the plot demands them to be. Time is also completely at the mercy of the film's non-logic. The villains basically mobilize a massive robot army and attempt to take over the world after what was probably less than 3 minutes of screen time from making a desperate and last resort run to what eventually turns out to be their homeland.
I can imagine the movie as a little kid, and the filmmakers as terrible parents. Need to create a massive robot army to take over the world? Sure buddy, let's just make a few quick cuts and we're done. Hey, hey, can we keep the hero's girlfriend alive throughout a gigantic nuclear blast? No problem. Ooh, ooh, and then can we shoot her in the head, and then bring her back to life?? Why, that's a fantastic idea! Ok, ok, how about this: a giant lightning bolt structure appears out of nowhere, remains unexplained, but like, but like, like, it'll be the source of life and Frankensteinize a bunch of random body parts floating around in a research lab? Can we do that? Sure, I don't see why not!!!11
Visually, the film is just as all over the place, if not more so. High contrast, grainy black and white one second, two-tone animation the next. Even stop motion a couple of times. From hyper stylized faux-film all the way to super digital amateur handheld in the blink of an eye. The only consistency is the weak CGI, which to be fair didn't bother me in the slightest, as it kinda fits. Some of the art direction is lovely and it just works. Funny that. What I absolutely was not cool with is all the millions upon billions of bells and shiny whistles flying at your face nonstop. Yes, the art direction is great, if only I could stop for a second to really appreciate it. The film seems quite determined to never let that happen, as it just keeps going and going and going and throwing everything it has at your eyeballs. I actually enjoyed this, at first. It was refreshing and wonderful. However, by the time the film ended somewhere at the 2 hour 20 minute mark, I was fucking tired of it.
Hmm.... However. However, however, however... There's something about it. There are obviously a gazillion and one things wrong with Casshern, I could have quite easily made this twice as long as it is now and still not be finished ripping it apart. But. Irregardless of how very misformed it might be, the people behind this clearly had a strong vision. Call me a sap, but I don't like hating on that. Most movies are shitty because the people that make them didn't have the talent or the resources or the passion, but the people that made this clearly did have those things. That much is easy to see. This movie didn't suck because it didn't have a big enough budget, I'm quite certain that it would have sucked about the same amount had it three times the funding. This movie sucked in a very unique way; it sucked in a way that still deserves to be seen, and might even be appreciated. So go ahead and give it a whirl anyway; as far as shitty movies go, you could still do a lot shitter than this.
You gotta love a good little dystopian movie. This one has some bonus metaphysical stuff going on too.
And from beginning to end, all of it is delivered in wonderful deadpan that simultaneously allows for dark humour, awkward humour and some serious dramatic impact as well; and it does it effortlessly, without ever feeling contrived or arbitrary. Or annoying. Deadpan can easily become annoying, but here it is used masterfully. Not only that, but it is also fully justified by the subject matter, and that probably goes a long way to making it feel acceptable, as opposed to 'LOOK AT HOW QUIRKY EVERYTHING IS, NOW POINT AND LAUGH AT IT.'
And I can't really go on without plugging in Wristcutters here. It seems that lately there's some sort of cosmic magnetism, I can't seem to watch a movie without another popping up in a matter of days that is related. And oh boy, do these make for one brilliant double feature. I recommend it.
So then, The Bothersome Man. This dude, Andreas, arrives at this place. At first, it seems more or less like a generic but modern European city, but soon it becomes apparent that something is not quite right. They don't really do anything special, or fancy, something is just a little bit off... Sterile. Great things are done with the costume design and cinematography to create an alien world, using simple means to achieve very impressive results.
Andreas is the perfect outsider in a world that is completely oblivious to its own predicament. Everything is all superficial interactions and blank consumerism, the food tasteless and the sex mechanical and Andreas is more or less the only person who seems to be bothered by it. He tries to make friends, a girlfriend, then a girlfriend on the side, but the only thing that seems to break through this sensory deprivation is a smell coming from a hole in a wall that, unfortunately for him, is terribly out of bounds.
What I found quite quaint about this one is that the movie is really not a cynical commentary on our artificial little society, but it so is. Sure there's all that life and death crap in the middle of it, but in a way The Bothersome Man has more in common with Fight Club than it does with The Sixth Sense, and when I stopped for a second to consider how a large part of my own life mirrored the film's cruel caricatures I realized that this one is not quite as far out there as it first seems.
Unfortunately when Andreas takes some drastic actions to change the status quo, these just blow up in his face. In an effort to go back to the greener pastures of the past, he just keeps going further and further in the opposite direction which makes the message here a bit of a downer. But hey, it is what it is.
I prefer to think of it in terms of a bit of a wake up call, if you will. For example I've never before used the term 'quite quaint' with a straight face. But I just did, and it felt pretty good - we're lucky. We have a wealth of experiences available to us, new things that we've never tried before.
A low-fi western science fiction musical comedy, inspired in no little part by German expressionism. Yeah, that got my attention too.
This is a fun filled, somewhat absurd movie. The interior of the space ship is kinda like a dingy motel room. Most of the outer space sequences are shown with the use of still images. There are gruff looking men performing what are perhaps the stupidest dances ever committed to celluloid. The music is quite brilliant.
Every once in a while it is nice to be reminded that not every movie in this beloved genre of ours needs to be grimdark serious business. Of course, I could easily turn that around and talk about some pretty fucking disturbing themes and undertones; this one has that in spades - but that is not the impression you walk away with.
The impression is that you've just visited a very strange vision of the future, one that despite being horribly unfuturistic, still works beautifully. This is culminated pretty early on with an inspired sequence involving a stand up comic plying his trade. Himself and his audience misunderstand the joke because they're looking at it through an entirely different perspective, and it doesn't really make sense to us, the actual audience, from theirs. It actually goes two layers deeper that I'm not going to ruin by outlining here, but I thought that was a touch of absolute genius. Well, at least I think that's what's going on, you can never be too sure with these things.
The film showed its sly cunning dressed as nonsense, which I almost would have drawn up to a fluke had it not been for another taking place in an interstellar barn. While the sum of this movie's parts is one thing, when you consider the actual parts, you find something else entirely.
You know, I really really wish there were more absurd movies around. Hell, I'll take movies that just use some absurd elements. Maybe I'm just getting jaded and cynical in my old age, but to me, taking something completely out of context and turning it on its head, and then saying something about it is infinitely more interesting than artsy fartsy symbolism along the lines of '...and the fragmented lighting in this scene is a visual representation of the character's inner turmoil...' snoooooooooooozzzzze. Absurdity on film can be powerful, and it really is too bad that it's so criminally underused - I can't think of more than a couple of others, and then those are more just weird for weirdness' sake.
Despite all this talk, the movie is oozing rustic charm and an obvious and deep love of early sci-fi cinema by the filmmakers. On the one hand, scenarios are presented simply and with a complete disregard for logic, which contributes to the film's overall sense of offcentre humour and yet on the other they contain such perverse ideas that they can make your blood curdle if stop to consider them. This incredibly strong duality married with all the other weird shit you'll encounter makes for an interesting cinematic experience that is quite unlike anything else.
Wonderfully atmospheric, inspired by Lynch's less esoteric efforts - if not quite as satisfying. The film is let down by a (suspiciously strange) lack of suspense, but it is still a worthwhile distraction for those who like a slowburning tale.
Just a couple of days ago I watched Black Limousine (or Land of the Astronauts), which, by the way, is fully outstanding. It's about a struggling composer who gets caught up in some heavy shit.
It reminded my of this because Mysteria is about a struggling scriptwriter who gets caught up in some heavy shit. Moving on:
I guess there's a reason this is Mysteria, and not Suspiria. This sort of psychowhodunnit affair is usually carried by a mixture of suspense and mystery, and indeed I do admire those types of movies for their ability to keep your imagination sitting on the edge of its seat. (Talking of the edge of your seat, À bout portant, man what an excellent thriller. It really hit the genre on the head, and honed that shit to utter perfection.)
Anyway, so yeah, suspense and mystery. It is an expectation that has been reinforced time and time and time again, and it is somewhat unsettling that Mysteria has almost none of it. Perhaps it is the offbeat editing or the lack of urgency, but events in this film just sort of happen and there is really no rhythm to any of it.
So, surprisingly enough, not much suspense here. But then what about the mystery? It is fitting that the writer/director is from Switzerland, because the plot of this movie is a lot like their cheese. HAHA, that was a little joke I did there for you.
Maybe I'm just getting consumed by the monolithic fiend of mainstream media and slowly but surely my expectations are being twisted around so that I will enjoy piles of monstrous horse shit like This Means War, or maybe it's the fact that I'm just not all there in the head at the moment, but Mysteria just didn't make any fucking sense to me. I tried to explain it away, but every time I came up with something it was almost immediately followed by a 'ah, but wait' moment that rendered it useless. Worryingly, it wasn't the cool kind of didn't make sense, the kind that makes you feel stupid, but it was that other kind, the one where you go your face doesn't make sense.
But that's totally OK. I enjoyed it regardless, it looks nice, it's a lovely little piece, a bit soporific (in a good way) held up mainly by pleasant aesthetics and some wonderful performances by the supporting cast.
And the supporting cast do deserve a mention, because they are excellent. Again, a lot like Lynch, this one has a number of interesting supporting characters who are all a pleasure to watch, and help to break up the monotonicity of the movie's singular concern.
Stranger Than Fiction on crack. On the offchance that you don't know Stranger, I'd recommend skipping this trailer and jumping into This Is Not A Movie blind.
I'm not gonna spoil the thing about these movies, but if you do know about Stranger Than Fiction, then unfortunately a lot of this movie's punch will be softened. I really wish this one came out first, because it is a lot more playful, fascinating, and it pushes that angle a whole lot further.
Edward Furlong brings an interesting performance and the film has a lot of cool little cards up its cool little sleeve. Some of the dialogue is genuinely brilliant, but being a dialogue driven film that should be a given.
There is quite a lot of dark humour and amateur philosophising going on, but in the end it is just one of those things. What was the film trying to do? Should I make fun of it for being heavy handed with shitty symbolism, or was that done on purpose? Is this movie stupid, or really really smart? I don't know, man.
For some reason or another it reminds me of Exit Through The Gift Shop. There is a great big sardonic Ouroboros twisting through our cultural output, and you can no longer tell what's what. Ahh, these post-modern times, aye; are you really a hipster, or just ironically? In any case take off those glasses, that just looks silly.
So there's this guy, popping pills, has amnesia, in a Las Vegas hotel, in less than two days the world will end, and then there's a couple of other versions of himself that show up. The majority of the movie is confined to the hotel room, and it really is a little bit brilliant how that does not get tiresome, like other single location movies can do.
There is also a ghost, who is completely useless and I'm really not sure why he's there in the first place, but now here's the cool thing, that is exactly why he is there. I mean, by Cerebral Coitus standards this one is really not much of a mindfuck, sure there's a cool concept, but it is a simple one. What really makes this flick shine are the incidental details. Those are there for you to pick over if you're that way inclined, or you can just ignore them and enjoy the movie just the same.
A constant barrage of overpowering weirdness without any respite. At first the shoddy 70s animation and production values are a little jarring, but the movie will very soon mesmerize you in an almost hypnotic embrace. I shudder to think what would happen if we were treated to a high budget modern remake. I can only dream.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. The story is very simple, and its themes are handled with all the finesse of a high school student who has just walked out of his first philosophy class. For some reason however, that doesn't really matter. The film has a powerful dream-like aspect that is rare. You know the type. The sort of movie that buries itself deeply into your subconscious, staying there for years, and popping into your train of thought at random times. Movies like Eraserhead or Santa Sangre that at the time seem like a disjointed mess refuse to leave your head and even though it was only just now that I finished watching Fantastic Planet, I have no doubts that it will stay in my hot little head for a good long while.
The film moves along at a steady pace, building exceptional atmosphere with a minimalistic soundtrack and cheap sound effects typical of the era's sci-fi. While the execution is about what you'd expect from a 70s animated movie, the art design transcends the evident technical constraints, and that really is the source of the movies strength.
So you've just watched a subtitled movie. And now you're thinking about it. Have you ever noticed how suddenly all the characters speak English in your head now, and they say what you previously read from the subs? I mean, it's not like you're going to imagine them speaking in a foreign language. At the time of actually doing it, you're experiencing watching a subtitled movie. And then later on your shitty unreliable memory morphs that experience into something your weak mind can handle. Fantastic Planet is kind of like that, except not just with the subtitles, but with everything. I literally just finished the movie 20 minutes ago, and I already think of it not in terms of a 70s animated movie but of the incredible imagery embellished in no little part by my rampant imagination.
And that point is important enough to keep going on about, because you won't feel the real power of the movie as you're watching it; it will come later on when you think back.
That's not to say that it's all rainbow farting puppy dogs. Because the movie's ethereal, dreamlike quality that is difficult to pinpoint is such a huge part of the experience that is sitting through Fantastic Planet, whenever that dream slips into a nightmare it is genuinely disturbing. The incessant weirdness also begins to wear you down and while my flatmate mumbled something about needing to watch this with our friend MJ, truth is that this is one movie I wouldn't want to see under the influence. The movie depicts mass murder in the same matter of fact, above it way that a documentary might show the demise of an ant colony. They're just ants, who gives a shit? They're just humans, who gives a shit?
I know that I've mentioned a few times the weak animation and low fidelity art but I have to admit that it does have a certain rustic charm, and a decidedly organic feel that was a refreshing reminder of the days when computer animation wasn't king, and now I wonder whether it enhanced the strange surreality. The cool thing about Fantastic Planet is that yes, it does have a remarkably simple plot, but the world in which it takes place is so brutally and genuinely alien; yet it manages to take the viewer through its unique, twisted dream logic with ease.
Quirky, hipster dramedies have no place on Cerebral Coitus. Allow me to argue why The Future might well be an exception.
If mindfuckiness could be expressed on a scale of 1 - 10, 1 being not mindfucky at all and 10 being really mindfucky, then The Future, at the very most, would score a 2.75. I'd say it averages on a 1.874 though. Oh goodness, I'm not doing a very good job of arguing my point here. But that is kind of OK, because neither does The Future.
All levity aside, this is one of those movies that are so vague and broad that you could more or less read anything you wanted into it. While there are some strong themes there, even those can be interpreted in any number of ways. On the surface, the movie says a lot about the fickle way in which we perceive time. No, no. Don't start getting excited. It's simply a point about perspective, and not some hardout sci-fi nonsense, although there is a little bit of that in the mix also.
There are a lot of films out there about people having midlife crises, but none that I've seen that present them in such an agreeable and relatable fashion. This is really a huge compliment, because the two lead characters are decidedly unlikeable. Boundlessly self-absorbed and very childlike, I couldn't help but feel an urge to beat their faces in until all that sickly naiveté bled out of them. It is quite surprising, and a real accomplishment for the movie's story telling, that even regardless of my feelings about the leads I enjoyed it as much as I did.
Writing about a film like this is not something I relish because before I finish each paragraph there's 5 more things that pop into my head that I could write about. Technology, change / periods of transition, passion versus comfort in a relationship, self-image and self-perception, passage of time, and how we choose what occupies our own respective headspaces are all things that the movie strongly addresses amongst a host of other stuff, by using two characters who would not be all that out of place in Napoleon Dynamite. It's certainly a strange recipe that for the most part actually works. The problem with using such broadstrokes is that nothing really stands out - it talks a bit about how different perspectives on the same issue will result in different outcomes, and that was about 3 lines of dialogue, and then the film moved on. It really stuck out to me personally, because it resonated with something completely unrelated that I was thinking about at the time.
It's such an unrestricted amalgamation of themes, a conglomerate of everyday thoughts and feelings. Unfocused, and filled with both the minute detail and the pretentiously grandiose. Show this film to 100 people, and you'll have 100 very different takes on it. This is both fittingly ironic and a little annoying because this movie isn't about how it makes you feel, and what it makes you think, it's completely the other way around; whatever is in your head at the time you watch it is what the movie will end up being about. Take that as you will.
A fantastic looking, off beat British film about hitpeople that is very much worth a watch for its skilful build-up of mystery and a very genuine sense of paranoia. It never gets paid off, and leaves the viewer frustrated on several levels, but even after a disappointing climax you can't help but appreciate the tease that preceded it.
But all that can wait. I don't often have a reason to write about the audio mix of a movie, but something really needs to be said about this one. There's quite a lot of dialogue between the two leads, and they have great chemistry - they will often interrupt one another, or start talking before the other has really finished. Basically, there's a lot of overlapping dialogue. It doesn't jump out at you, it's fairly subtle, but it's wonderful that it's there.
It's a bit tiring that in every movie, every scene, there's perfectly mixed audio meticulously delivered by the actor. Films that try to be as gritty and realistic as possible in every way make zero effort when it comes to talking. No umms, uhs, or errrs. Not a misspoken syllable. Why?
This line of thinking made me remember a movie I've seen a while back called Cold Weather. Most of the dialogue is improvised, and it shows, and it's great. It really adds a certain element to the movie that, if warranted, makes it much more better. I was quite surprised to find that apparently there is a subgenre of filmmaking, called mumblecore. Or something. Apparently, mumblecore films are where the characters don't speak clearly.
While Pulp Fictionese can be great, and indeed a vital aspect of a movie, the fact that I have to rack my brain to come up with more examples of naturalistic dialogue is kind of sad. I mean, you're getting blown to bits by enemy soldiers/aliens/zombies, the least you could do is stutter a bit every once in a while. While I understand a writer's need to show off their poetry in profoundly written dialogue, if a movie is striving for a certain atmosphere the dialogue should reflect this also. It grinds my gears when a director is clearly at odds with what's in the script and we end up with a sort of shitty compromise in a disconnect between the screenwriter and everyone else.
A movie that hit a pretty good balance is The Bourne Identity and it's sequels. The dialogue is somewhat underwritten, which is a great plus in this case, and increasingly difficult to find in mainstream cinema, and delivered in such a cool way. And 'cool way' is about as indepth as I'll get with this particular analysis, as I just realised I really haven't said anything about Kill List yet.
To digress from this 300 word tangent, my main issue with Kill List is the terrible ending. There is an overarching conspiracy that will have most people salivating throughout the film, and then the last stretch completely loses it. There is also a bit of a genre detour where this tight thriller becomes a bit of a surreal horror, and it feels very out of place; but whatever, I can go with that. What I cannot abide is the illogical and open to interpretation ending, whereby the term 'open to interpretation' is synonymous with 'lazy ass writing'.
I am no stranger to filmmakers laughing in my face and exclaiming 'LOL I ain't telling you just because' and that's fine; in most cases, while relatively annoying, it does in the end enhance the experience. In this case it is blatantly used as an easy out. Virtually every set up from the beginning of the movie remains unresolved and unaddressed.
Unfortunately, in retrospect, it does kind of lessen the merits of the movie because I can't help but think that the writer put together this mystery, and that's all it is: a mystery. There is nothing behind the curtain, just more curtain. And if you keep on trying to peek through it, you'll eventually find the writer scratching his head, trying to give meaning to his mess.
Having said all that, I do recommend the movie because the journey it takes you on, completely bogus as it might be, is still worth experiencing. And until you do reach the ending where it goes a little bit tits up, you'll find a remarkably well put together little film, that is by all means brilliant - just don't expect any catharsis.
