THE LIST

Here are all the films I've reviewed from my most favorite to my least. Pure and subjective and not tainted by peer pressure. Exactly how a best films list should be!


1. The Lord of the Rings (2001-2003)- 8.69
2. Spartacus (1960)- 8.53
3. Memento (2001)- 8.50
4. Star Trek (2009)- 8.46
5. Batman Begins (2005)- 8.33
6. Rachel Getting Married (2008)- 8.27
7. Gladiator (2000)- 8.23
8. Milk (2008)- 8.18
9. Changeling (2008)- 8.16
(TIE) The Dark Knight (2008)- 8.16
(TIE) Rashomon (1950)- 8.16
12. Atonement (2007)- 8.08
13. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)- 8.00
(TIE) Sansho the Bailiff (1954)- 8.00
15. Jesus of Nazareth (1977)- 7.91
16. Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979)- 7.84
17. Drag Me to Hell (2009)- 7.83
18. Watchmen (2009)- 7.69
19. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)- 7.66
(TIE) Slumdog Millionaire (2008)- 7.66
21. The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964)- 7.58
22. Black Christmas (1974)- 7.53
(TIE) The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)- 7.53
23. King of Kings (1961)- 7.46
24. Cabiria (1914)- 7.41
25. Knowing (2009)- 7.23
26. The Passion of the Christ (2004)- 7.15
27. Excalibur (1981)- 7.00
28. Intolerance (1916)- 6.92
29. The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965)- 6.66
30. Irreversible (2002)- 6.46
313. Lying (2009)- 4.90

THE JESUS FILMS

I saw as many as I could. The only one I didn't get a chance to see was the first, THE KING OF KINGS (1927), and that's only because it's not available on netflix yet. We're just gonna have to assume its the best one (I caught the first five minutes online and it seemed promising, but that's all I have to go by so far).

KING OF KINGS (1961)-

directed by Nicholas Ray

or "I Was a Teenage Jesus" as Jeffrey Hunter is sort of the teen idol version of the greatest man who ever lived. The plot juxtaposes the peace-mission of Jesus with the freedom-fighting mission of Barabbas and Judas Iscariot. This basically serves only to lengthen the movie with badly done, overly long battle sequences. There's also an interspersing narration done by Orson Welles that paraphrases the Bible into a sacrilege by interweaving it with original NKJ-verbose narrative. The music is amazing (I like Miklos Rosja's work here better than in BEN-HUR (1959), and for all his short-comings, Jeffrey Hunter's Jesus is probably the best one of the bunch.

7.46/10

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO ST. MATTHEW (1964)-

directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini

or "I Was a Uni-brow Mafia Art-Film Jesus". Much praise has been lavished on this cheap b&w film that stars Italian non-actors reading straight from the scripture. The spectacle of the story is basically gone in favor of what amounts to a union-organizer tale in a strange dystopian version of the Holy Land where the priests wear these weird outfits. The framing is exceptional and Enrique Irazoqui's Jesus is spot-on in his attitude, though I just could never get past that hair of his (shave the brow! please, oh dear god, shave the brow!). The film is jarring, with music used at random and often randomly used (60s gospel blended with 17th century chamber... something that overall works a bit better than it sounds like it should). It's original, yes. It's also really over-rated.


7.58/10

THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD (1965)-

directed by George Stevens

or "I was a Nihilistic-Boring By-the-Book Let's-Not-Piss-Anybody-Off Jesus". Max von Sydow had the presence but not the charm. He's such a sad-sack in this pretty but terribly dull version that is only made worse by the constant stream of cameos.

6.66/10

JESUS OF NAZARETH (1977)-

directed by Franco Zeffirelli

or "I Was a Pompous-Douchebag Jesus." Robert Powell tries to look humble in Franco Zeffirelli's well-developed but ultimately anti-climactic film. Despite the cameos, half of which deliver and half don't at all (Peter Ustinov and Christopher Plummer are amazing as the respective Herods, but Ernest Borgnine looks really out of place and as though he's sleep-walking through his role while Rod Steiger looks kinda befuddled as Pontious Pilate). It's the longest film, though it shouldn't be, and every precious moment of character obtained by the brilliant work of the disciples is ruined by the pompous blowhard douche-bag Jesus. Powell ends up look snarky as his air of British entitlement seeps through every strained droopy-eyed parable he throws out as though the people should listen to him because they should just listen to him, dammit.

7.91/10

MONTY PYTHON'S LIFE OF BRIAN (1979)

directed by Terry Jones

or "I Was Mistaken for Jesus". Not as much a mockery of the life of Christ so much as a mockery of the life of everyone living around Jesus at the time. That's to its credit. While the sketch-comedy plotline keeps it just short of brilliant and it's not quite the laugh-a-minute it's predecessor THE HOLY GRAIL (1979) was, it's still damn fine comedy film-making.

7.84/10

THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST (1988)-

directed by Martin Scorsese

or "I Was a Blasphemous Jesus that Nobody in His Right Mind would Really Consider Following." The most controversial of the Jesus films, and rightfully so, and Jesus is used less as an archetype for the Son of Man and more as an archetype for Man himself. Instead of being the New Adam, he's the same old Adam that just figures things out a little quicker. It's all symbolism, and extremely blasphemous for the most part. It's brilliant and throught-provoking, but misguided and shows only a cursory understanding of the scriptures, which isn't bad in and of itself, since it's not based on the scriptures but on a book that's brilliant, thought-provoking, and utterly blasphemous.


7.53/10

THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST (2004)-

directed by Mel Gibson

or "I Was a Snuff-Film Jesus". This is Medieval Catholicism on celluloid. Pounding, vociferous, and banal. Also very well-made.

7.15/10

GLADIATOR (2000)

directed by Ridley Scott

This film essentially rapes history... but you won't care too much. The story that's been concocted is preposterous, but well-told and looks beautiful. Plus, there's lots of fighting and blood and the ending will make everyone happy. It's a man movie hidden behind a sword-and-sandals epic. Roadhouse meets Spartacus. Not as campy as the first and not as brilliant as the second. But a truly fun film to watch. It was my favorite of the 2000 best picture nominees, so I'm glad it won.

8.23/10

SPARTACUS (1960)

SPARTACUS (1960)

directed by Stanley Kubrick

This might just be the greatest historical epic I've ever seen. The spectacle is apparent, but doesn't draw too much attention to itself. The script is subtle and subversive, and the acting, while not altogether flawless, has moments of master-work. The story centers around a slave (Kirk Douglas) who leads a revolt against Rome (represented by Laurence Olivier). To be honest, that's really all you need to know. The script is brilliant; it essentially takes fact and uses speculation as a means of artistic license. It probably didn't happen this way... but it COULD HAVE, and wouldn't it have been AWESOME if it DID? This film may have lost the Oscar race to the good but over-rated THE APARTMENT (1960), but it still puts GLADIATOR's (2000) Oscar-winning fun but history-raping plot to shame.

8.53/10

CABIRIA (1914)

CABIRIA (1914)

directed by Giovanni Pastrone


This is said to be Griffith's true inspiration for INTOLERANCE (1916). To be sure, BIRTH OF A NATION (1915), tasteless as it was in concept, was a better film than this. But this was EPIC. Pastrone's CABIRIA is a lightweight in terms of narrative (girl gets sold into slavery to be sacrificed to the god Molech, a Roman agrees to rescue her, does so, loses her to a machinations of a greedy inkeeper, and after some time finds her and rescues her for real this time). Its the grandeur of it that gets to you. Such highlights as the sacrifice scene and the Buster Keaton-esque shield-climbing stunt keep you going through what's mostly actors chewing the amazing set, thrusting their hands wildly around and rolling their eyes in that great teen-silent way that keeps teens from ever paying much attention to silents. Cinephiles call it a masterpiece. I call it just another step in the right direction.

7.41/10

MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL (1975)

MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL (1975)

directed by Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam

Probably one of the funniest movies ever made. That doesn't mean it's the greatest movie ever made, just that it certainly gets its job done. The story is actually just a bunch of skits pasted together by a tenuous plot-line. Arthur, making fun of sound effects in the best way possible, roams England in search of knights. Each scene is a social commentary on medieval times and these first scenes, as well as the last couple of scenes involving a cave guarded by an "animal with pointy teeth" and a bridge of death where you must "answer me these questions three" are some of the greatest moments in film comedy. Once Arthur finds his knights and is given his task of finding the holy grail in the most sacrilegious of ways possible, the knights split up and things become a little more hit-and-miss in the middle. There was no decent way to end a film like this, and to have the main characters arrested for murdering an historian seems fitting, as historical epics have a long record of bending facts to fit the narrative. Oh, and the opening credits are something of a minor miracle.

8.00/10

EXCALIBUR (1981)

EXCALIBUR (1981)

directed by John Boorman


This movie has to be someone's favorite drinking game. The pacing is scattershot, the dialogue is dreadful, the acting consistent only in the fact that it's over-the-top, and the special effects are typically banal for a lower-budget film that contains the music. The music is obvious and awkward and... it's almost hilariously awesome in its awkward bravado. This is the Autherian legend(s), stripped of their poetry, squeezed into a running time, and... god, I dunno. I think it says something that every main female character in this film shows her breasts at some point. It wasn't a good film, but sorta like a bad team that shows up and at least makes the better team work for it, you can't help but root for the damn thing, even while endlessly making fun of it. The grail sequence is one classic "WTF?" moment after another.

7.00/10

SANSHO THE BAILIFF (1954)

I've made a list of films, the History of the World on film, and it's allowing me to both watch a large list of films I've compiled from imdb.com, roger ebert's great movies, and a list of the 100 greatest foreign films. I threw in a few more popular historical epics as well. It's a long list: I'm currently at around A.D. 1100.

SANSHO THE BAILIFF (1954)

directed by Kenji Mizoguchi


A very beatiful film, but also a depressing film and one that's so slow in places I just wanted to close my eyes and be lulled to sleep by the music of the... what is that, wind in reeds? Basically, this is, like RASHOMON (1950), a film about humanity at its worst. RASHOMON was mostly about lying as a means of self-protection and image-control. SANSHO THE BAILIFF is about human rights. A family is torn apart essentially because the man of the house disobeys his superior's orders in favor of the citizens of the province he's been made governor of. His superior goes around him to get what he wants anyway, and when the citizens become a rioting mob in response, the governor is blamed for it, and is exiled. When his family goes out to meet him, they are taken advantage of by a priestess and sold into slavery (the mother split from her children). For the remainder of the film, the family takes their ethereal but impractical ideals, and makes a series a of rash and stupid decisions with them. The film ends with people crying. Out of joy, out of sorrow, a bittersweet blend of both, whatever, the film ends with people crying. It's a beautiful story with beautiful cinematography. Watch with a full pot of coffee and a box of kleenex and your finger on the pause button so you can occasionally stop to talk to your friends about how stupid the people are.

8.00/10

RASHOMON (1950)

RASHOMON (1950)

directed by Akira Kurosawa


It's a lean ninety minutes, and I still feel like there's a few moments that were just too long. A few stray moments of indulgence, not many, but enough that the proceedings are slowed down. The story is amazing though and there is this sense of anticipation with each reckoning that keeps you enthralled enough that the pregnant pauses that give birth to a social commentary on humanity's dark side still resonate. I can't say it didn't feel like I was fishing for the next great moment in the movie.

What's there to say about the story. A woman is raped, a man is murdered, the trial is inconclusive, and there are four stories where basically the same thing happens, but in each one a different person's perspective on the events reveals more about the person telling the story than it does about the proceedings themselves. No matter how many people tell you you can't really know what happens, I think the answer is pretty much there by the end of it all. It's not THAT ambiguous. The basic rule of thumb goes: the closer you are personally to an event, the more that event is shaped by your perspective of it. It's actually pretty amusing whose tale of the three obvious tales told is the closest to the truth and it's the differences in that first tale that serve as the key for what's different about the others. Had the film been 80 minutes instead of 87 minutes, I would've scored it higher. Those "artistic" pauses: Cinephiles may have room for them, but your average layperson certainly doesn't.

8.16

MEMENTO (2001)

directed by Christopher Nolan

Goodness, if you had enough life experience and long-term memory to not have your innocence or naivete but didn't have the ability to form new memories, you'd never close your eyes or keep from looking over your shoulder. That seems to be the premise of Nolan's mindfuck of a movie, MEMENTO, which dissects the motivations and subversions of three people who fight each other to use this disability to their own advantage. As far as I can tell, only one of them comes close to winning, and its apparent that one of them, from the get-go, clearly loses.

We know this because of the ingenious way in which this film is given to us. Scenes are shown backwards to forwards with just enough intersecting of events that you're reminded of what came before and you can start to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Leonard (Guy Pearce) ends the story by shooting Teddy (Joe Pantilioni). Then, layer by layer, we figure out why Leonard would do this and we learn how culpable Teddy is, how every character (including Leonard himself) uses Leonard's disability for their own gain, and how Natalie (Carrie-Anne Moss) fits into all this.

Inbetween each scene is a series of linearly-placed black and white vignettes where Leonard sits on his hotel bed giving himself a tattoo while talking on the phone to an unknown caller about a certain Sammy who's lovelife puts Leonard's lack of one into perspective. As each scene ends and each vignette begins, we get a layer into Leonard's background and simultaneously begin to understand how what is happening here reflects what has happened and is being exposed throughout the rest of the film. Leonard tattoos his body with notes. When he doesn't leave a tattoo, he snaps a polaroid and labels it in a certain way. These mementos (hence the title) serve as Leonard's memory for him. The placement of each separate scene and vignette help us understand what Leonard's world is like for him. The result is pure cinematic genius. A true noir classic for the new millennium.

8.50/10

IRREVERSIBLE (2002)

directed by Gaspar Noe

This film is infamous for a rape scene in the middle of the movie. A gorgeous Alex (played in a skin-tight dress by Monica Bellucci) makes a bad decision by going taking a low-traffic underground tunnel to get to the subway (she was going to take a taxi, but a prostitute said, “Take the understreet passage. It's safer.”) It never occurs to Alex that a prostitute might view her with envy and contempt and might lead her down an unsafe path. Nor does it occur to Alex to use her common sense (taxi or underground passage... taxi or underground passage). It seems almost as if fate were pulling her into a certain direction. And once there, she discovers nothing but immense pain, followed by silence (she slips into a coma). Time destroys everything.

This point, “time destroys everything” is the theme of a movie that's well-made and yet reeks of desperation, immense pretension, and is also layered, just soaking in dreadful irony. This is a theme that is taken quite literally in places: the rape itself is done in one long eight-minute take. Our brazenly misogynistic rapist takes his sweet-ass time about, pausing occasionally to get high. In that entire time, only one person shows up in the tunnel (One person in eight fucking minutes? Seriously?) and they see what is happening and turn around and go back. Alex does everything she can to thwart her attacker... wait, no she doesn't. When the attacker appears, fighting and threatening Guillermo, a transvestite prostitute, Alex stands, shell-shocked, when she should be running for her life (which is exactly what Guillermo does when she realizes she can get away). The rapist flashes a blade at her, and that's pretty much that. Eight minutes later, not only does she have an ass full of blood and spunk, she's also had the everyloving shit kicked out her. And we were forced to sit and watch the whole damn thing start to finish. Shock-art. Yay.

To be honest, we've already been desensitized to the rape before we ever get there (the first of a few ironies in this film). The film has us backtracking from the events that happen just after the rape to the events that preceded. Had the film been edited consequentially, we would have been alighted upon Alex reading a book about fate and time in a meadow, we would have shared in good news with her, we would have watched with lustful delight as she plays around with her lover Vincent Cassel, would've laughed at the silly sophomoric musings of Pierre as they travel to a party on the subway, watched melodrama unfold in an almost reality-tv sense of banality as M has the good time normally reserved for swinging bachelors while Pierre tries to control him and Alex simply dances. The fight between Alex and M is quick and Alex's decision to leave by herself seems forced and unmotivated, and then suddenly the rape scene comes out of nowhere and we're shocked! Shocked!

But no, the film begins with two random dudes sitting on a bed talking about how one of them had sex with their nine-year-old daughter. Really. The other nods, declares that time destroys everything. The grotesque is racked with guilt but says the experience itself was pure bliss, while the pathetic reassures him that his guilt is unfounded: “there is no right, there is no wrong. There is what you do, and what you don't do.” (this is maybe the fourth or fifth ironic thing about this movie). Their inspirational conversation is interrupted by the sound of sirens. Below them, M and Pierre have ransacked a gay sex club known as the Rectum (is it ironic that they rape the Rectum in search of the rapist who raped Alex's rectum or is that just directorial paralellism?), gotten in a fight with a random stranger while searching for said rapist, and in the process pounded this guy's face into mush with a fire extinguisher (and yes, we are there for every minute of that as well).

Some people will claim this “from the ass to the mouth” cinematic path (oh goodness, another symbolic use of the true theme of the film, “anal rape”) is genuis. After giving it some thought (the thirty minutes required to write this review, though it is still thought), I think it's a bit chickenshit on Noe's part. How much more shocking would the rape scene have been if it had come out of nowhere? How would we have reacted to the vengeance that comes afterwards? What sort of emotional response would Noe have achieved? What would have been said had the final scene of the film been the final scene of the story? End with M on a stretcher, Pierre being arrested for murder, and two grotesques talking about the sheer bliss of incestuous pedophilia? Suddenly it goes from anal rape to a story about the making of a turd. Care to digest that, anyone?

6.46/10

BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)

directed by Bob Clark

When I realized this horror film was directed by the same guy that made A CHRISTMAS STORY, a got all giggly inside. It's almost too sublime. And the best part is, both films are true to themselves, and not half bad. But enough about the wonders of Christmases and bb-guns. Let's talk murder.

BLACK CHRISTMAS came out around the same time as THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, and while for some reason MASSACRE has become the well-known granddaddy of modern horror, the real breadwinner is hands-down BLACK CHRISTMAS. MASSACRE was about gross-out, creepy, fucked up individuals and the stupid, assholish youths who invade their territory... Rob Zombie sucked on its teat as a child. BLACK CHRISTMAS is about ordinary, flawed-but-sympathetic youths and the brainless menace that invades their territory. MASSACRE is sideshow macabre. BLACK CHRISTMAS is pure suspense and terror. HALLOWEEN should pay royalties.

Juliet and Lois Lane are members of a sorority... wait, lemme say that one more time: Olivia Hussey and Margot Kidder are members of a sorority. There's a crazy dude somewhere in their vicinity and we know this because we were just basically the crazy dude. The film essentially starts with a POV shot from the killer's perspective as he climbs the side of the house. Then the phone calls begin. The insane, almost unintelligible phone calls that sound like a cross between fart noises and pigs being slaughtered. You could almost dismiss them as harmless prank calls but for this underlying edge of dread. And then the nasty language and not-terribly-subtle innuendo. Then girls go to bed and you never hear from them again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Oh, and they never catch the killer and you never really see him. That, to me, is the best part. I don't mind giving this away, cause it makes the film all that more unnervingly good. The abortion subplot/red herring (though ballsy, coming just a year after Roe v. Wade) isn't necessary and doesn't really do much more than add to the running time, but that's small criticism for a decidedly well-done horror film. Some of the latest poseurs could take a few lessons from it.

7.53/10

THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST (2004)

directed by Mel Gibson

Mel Gibson knows how to sell a movie. When this Jesus movie came out in 2004, churches bought the theatres and saw it in droves. I can't say that I blame them. They'd be waiting for a big-budget adaptation of Biblical anecdote for a while (I think the last time Hollywood money had bothered with rendering a somewhat faithful adaptation of the text was around the early '60s) and any effort at all since then has either been too out-there (see LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST), too cheap (did you get that copy of the Jesus docu-faux-movie-thing in the mail a decade ago? I didn't watch it either), or just mediocre at best (made-for-TV movie, anyone?)

So, yes, when Gibson announced he was making the prequel to BRAVEHEART, and it was starring Jesus, and it was going to be in a foreign language (American film + foreign language = authenticity), churchgoers went gaga. (to be fair, the other end of the tentpole had their own formula for moviegoing bliss that year: American documentary + liberal agenda = authenticity... see FAHRENHEIT 9/11).

So, Gibson had the talent, he had the budget, he had the built-in audience, he even had the Aramaic. So, what goes wrong here? Well, two things really: First, there's too much blood. And from a purely story perspective, far too much emphasis on it. The story goes that Christ died for our sins in a sort of sacrificial way by allowing himself to be executed. It is easy to get caught up in the physical aspects of this (and to be sure, PASSION would be the first Jesus film that even bothered to really mention the physical aspects at all...), but there's more to it than that. Jesus also suffered mental anguish, emotional anguish, and most importantly, spiritual anguish, and a lot of this was spread out over the course of the entire week. Now, you don't have include his entire life on film: this has been done before plenty of times and usually the filmmaker tries to include too many details and explain too many things and the theme of the film gets washed out in all that “history”. But a true passion play on film should comprise more than just the final prayer at Gethsemane (though it was a beautiful starting point), the trials, the beating, the walk, and the cross. There should be more emphasis on the last supper, the Temple appearances that week, the final parables, the final miracles, the continuous attempts by Jesus to try to get his disciples to understand what was about to happen, their almost complete lack of understanding anyway, their desertion of him in his time of need, his immense loneliness. But there's not of that. There's a few brief flashbacks (which I loved), there's Peter denial (which I also loved, but no denuement of this moment), there's Judas betrayal and suicide (I'll get to that in a bit), and there's blood. Lots and lots and lots and lots of blood. Fileted flesh, ribcage baring, slices and dices and hundreds of rounds of beating. No mortal man could've survived this. And Jesus was a mortal man. He was a living man. He had access to superhuman strength, but he chose not to use it. Any of it. And so, after Jesus has been whipped to the point where a normal man would've died four or five times already... he's flipped over and whipped some more. Then he's beaten some more. Then he's made to walk what appears to be miles upon miles with an entire cross on his back (the other two prisoners he's with just carry the cross-beam). So, my criticism isn't that there's blood or even that there's a lot of blood. It's that there's a ridiculous and absurd amount of blood. Jesus could not have possibly been tortured to the extent that he's tortured in this movie.

Second, it's layered with Catholicism. It's apparently taken less from the Gospels and more from an old medieval passion written by a nun. I can see it. The emphasis on Mary here is immense. Not only is she there, but one would think she is the window to Father God himself: every time Jesus feels he can't go on, he sees her by happenstance, and his strength is restored. Satan is portrayed by Death from Bergman's THE SEVENTH SEAL (though a wonderful touch having the part be androgynously played by a woman). Demons inhabit the corners and are right out of Renaissance Catholicism... there might as well have been a Hell-mouth, gaping behind the anti-semitically inspired Sanhedrin.

So, enjoy it all you want. It's a well-made film (though a tad draggy in spots). Watch it with an entire church. Provide whips for self-flaggelation and you'll get a helluva live show, like a Jesus freak cult viewing: The Rocky Horror Jesus Show. Just know what you're buying a ticket for: a wolfishly Medeival Holy Roman Passion Play hidden behind a sheepskin of pious authenticity. Might as well have been produced by the devil himself (or herself, if you prefer sugartits with your temptations). The road to hell is paved with good intentions. After this film, you'll have a greater understanding of what that means, while at the same time remaining terribly confused as to how Jesus' final week brought any hope to anyone.

7.15/10

WATCHMEN (2009)

directed by Zack Snyder

As far as this decade is concerned, WATCHMEN is the most brilliant, most cynical, and most unnecessary thing to come along since the Christian Coalition. A big heaping helpful of Cold War graphic novel that hopes its message maintains a relevance beyond the Obama administration. To be honest, the fall of the Berlin wall brought the fall of that relevance, and the alternate reality that WATCHMEN confines itself to turns into a type of fantasy period piece. It is in no way timely. However, WATCHMEN is quite watchable. It's the second best comic book movie ever (THE DARK KNIGHT is first). It's all subjective, of course, but here's the deal: WATCHMEN, in maintaining its literary purity, dilutes itself into a product of the comic book's time.

Ironic though it may be, what makes the movie brilliant is also what makes it cynical and unnecessary. The concept behind the characters, and the characters themselves, so fully transcend the genre that they provide myriad food for thought on the whole concept of superheros. Dr. Manhattan (played by Billy Crudup as a radiactive, muscular cross between Data and a smurf), is a frightening concoction, a true Superman who, in his near-infinite wisdom, develops a thoroughly creepy lack of humanity. The same can be said for nearly all of the characters, whose various stages of psychosis and emotional turmoil put each one through a ringer all their own: one becomes a flippant mysoginist of the worst kind, one becomes so smart and powerful that ideals mean more to him than individuals (like, say, Stalin or Hitler), and one sees so much of what is wrong with us as people that he becomes a shell of a human being, wearing a mask that cleverly allows you to see whatever you want to see.

I could go on and on about various little things I found less brilliant about it. The history is of a type one would find from thirty minutes of brainstorming and thirty seconds of rational thought, the soundtrack is so recognizable, it was probably picked off verbatim from a classic rock radio station... could the makeup department have done a worse job? Yes, but not much worse. These are not huge concerns. The film, at its core, is about the superheros and the superheros are what make the film. They are the film. And after the moral ambiguity of the THE DARK KNIGHT, the next step into discussion of “supermen” is most definitely along the lines of WATCHMEN. So, watch away and discuss. That's as timely as irrelevance gets in this decade.

7.69/10

SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE (2008)

director: Danny Boyle


There's something about SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE that left a bad taste in my mouth. It's not the film itself, which is made in top-notch quality, boasts a lovely handful of new and veteran Bollywood talent, and sets a smile on your face at the end of it which will have you leaving your seat with an air of satisfaction that can only be acquired through a supreme Bollywood dance number (this one ends on a lighter version of one).

Perhaps the bad taste came from the glossy shellacked bagel-bite of social apathy that seems to seethe through the cracks of this film. It sure looks like an Indian film, but hold on there a second... why is it obviously being marketed to an English-speaking audience?... Oh, it's a British film, that's why. Essentially the British are reaping economic and artistic awards off the backs of India. And here I was thinking they gave up sovereignty over a century ago.

To be sure, the story is inspiring enough. Essentially a lower-class, uneducated citizen manages to go from just that to an almost mythic hero overnight thanks to a televised game show. The draw is rendered thus: How did the slumdog win a million? It's a multiple choice question, and the answer is, of course, D: 'it is written' or, if you're secular 'it is destiny'. The rags-to-riches story introduces us to Dev Patel, sitting in his contestants chair, being handed questions from the host, but really from God, as the kid had not only already answered each question at some point in his life, but had answered each question in sequential order. I suppose this is more for our benefit than his, as the movie seems less concerned with showing us his winning effort and more concerned with giving us a look at a “slumdog's” life. Essentially you grow up to be orphaned at a young age, exploited in every possible way, and to even have the few good things in your life be stolen away from you (usually by those closest to you). At the end of the movie everybody redeems themselves, or dies... or both. And then there is a lovely kiss and a nice Bollywood dance number and everyone goes home happy. It's like cotton candy dipped in shit and come up smelling like roses. You just keep telling yourself its chocolate... or something.

7.66/10

DRAG ME TO HELL (2009)

directed by Sam Raimi

Old school horror is finally back! Finally! After all the torture porn of the last few years, the closest we've been able to come from having something worth the price of admission that wouldn't leave us feeling like we just watched a snuff film was THE DESCENT.

It's a very simple story and that's one of the best things about it. It doesn't complicate itself looking for ways to trick us up. It just does the same things other horror films do better. There's nothing like watching an experienced filmmaker do things other filmmakers try and invariably suck at.

It's unfortunate Sam Raimi doesn't think he's got anything terribly special here. He inserts lots of unnecessary gross-out moments (they're unnecessary because they serve the story any at all, not because I didn't squirm with glee when they came); he also just can't help but pay homage to the Evil Dead films with one of his patented "flying possessed/demon" moments. It's the silliest moment in a movie he probably felt needed some silly moments. The scary moments will genuinely scare the living shit out of you.

At least the ending is dead-on. A great time at the movies all the same!

7.83/10

MILK (2008)

directed by Gus van Sant

I find it difficult to decide how good or not good this film is. It's not bad. It's a bio-film, and a message film, but how prescient the message is right now is a bit cloudy as well. Would it have made more of an impact a few years ago? Or was the world not ready to see it until now? And should you show something to the world when the world has adjusted to the issue or should you show something when it needs to be shown and let the world adjust to it?

One thing's for sure, this film came out at least six months too late. California has voted, and decided not to allow gays to marry, and then this film is released and everyone feels a little ashamed of themselves (though Harvey Milk is presented as the sort of pre-AIDS fella that would pick a guy up off the street corner, and that's not really good for the business of scoring sympathy points with conservatives).

But enough about the politics. How good is the film? It's solid. It's slightly operatic in random places that seem to work in spite of themselves. You walk away feeling like the film is important and you wonder why you never knew Harvey Milk existed before this film came out. And... so I both rooted for the man and wondered how he kept himself out of trouble, since he picks guys up in public places with his exceptionally well-honed gaydar.

8.18/10

LYING (2009)

directed by M. Blash


This is the most pretentious film I've ever seen and maybe ever will. Most of the time when a film is hideously pretentious, there's at least some creativity to it. Here, there's a pretty location, and some semi-famous chicks (Chloe Sevigny, Jena Malone, and Leelee Sobieski). Here's the plot: writer wants to write about someone who lies and use this awesome house where he went to a party once. He doesn't get permission to use the house, but the daughter of the house's owner wants to be in a movie, so they're willing to put up some financing and if he wants the house, here's the architect's name, he can find a house similar to it. He does. He puts the daughter in the movie, has the entreprenurial flair to at least get Chloe, Jena, and Leelee attached to it, writes a 26-page scriptment which is the basis for what's essentially a 90-minute improvisational effort on the part of the actresses' involved. Mind you, it doesn't appear that any of them have any training in improv. (by the way, if you're going to improv... have training in improv. Please.) Every scene is overwraught, the dialogue is pedestrian at best. The character's are barely explained and have almost no relationship to one another.

I'll give it this: for the sheer sake of unpredictability, it was compelling. I had no idea what was happening or why, and longed to know what the director's angle was. Was everything symbolic? Was it actually a comedy, like a giant in-joke? Would any of the girls make out? The answers to those questions were: No, I mean, I guess not, I hadn't thought of that, that's interesting, okay, sure, yeah, it's all symbolic. I'll let you come up with why.... A giant in-joke? Oh, what a great idea. Maybe it is all a giant in-joke. I find it pretty funny in places.... Lesbians? No, that's so cliche and sophomoric. I'm not going to put my actresses through that. Well, I mean, if they wanted to do it, sure, but in the scriptment for this scene, I have them putting on clothes like grandma's attic and then they hear a voice singing opera and they go look for it. I love Chloe's idea to not like the music and make Jena change the music right before the opera starts. That's brilliant, that puts you into the mode of listening to the music. I made this scene ten minutes long because there are so many beautiful rooms to look for the music in. Isn't this a beautiful house?

I hate this movie because it was made, and it seems to have been made by an amateur with great resources at his disposal, but with little very little notion or care to story. I would have an open mind about it if he perhaps he had a performance art angle to it, had some sense of passion about it, but here is an instant where a person decided to make a movie but had no grand desire for how it was made. It basically had to have a character that lied all the time and a house. That was all he was after. He financed this? Apparently, one of the financers wanted potty humor in it. Wouldn't do it unless there was potty humor. I hate this movie, I hate any crew member that had direct creative input, and I really resent Jena and Leelee for giving this movie the publicity edge to get it in my girlfriend's line of sight at Movie Gallery.


4.90/10

THE DARK KNIGHT (2008)

directed by Christopher Nolan


There's something about THE DARK KNIGHT that manages, while amazing you, to both confuse the shit out of you on a second thought and tire the hell out of you pretty much every time you watch it.

Even the first time you watch it, by the last twenty minutes, you're kinda wondering how much longer it is. It's not that it's not compelling. It's a helluva yarn! But by the time the end credits roll, there's a let-down. You know this is a great movie, you feel it in your bones (or you're a huge fan and you're willing to really, really wish it into being).

So... by now, pretty much anyone interested in this movie is already aware of what makes it awesome. Heath Ledger's version of the Joker is both extremely removed from the archetype, but also fits the mold in a way that makes all previous versions (even Nicholson's) seem somewhat incomplete (they aren't necessarily, they're just saying different things, and each one works with its environment. Heath Ledger's Joker wouldn't work in the campy TV version, and it would be practically an assisted suicide in the grand operatic mood piece that is the '89 Batman (somehow, Nicholson and Prince add just enough pomp and circus to the gloom that you find yourself giggling whenever either one enters the room (or the speakers), no matter what dead bodies are lying in state).

Once you go over the Joker's antics, things start falling apart. He seems to know exactly what happens all the time, has resources nobody aside from Bruce Wayne could possibly have, and has contingency plan upon contingency plan upon contingency plan. While the logical possibilities are there, that's a fun piece for a fanboy somewhere out there. (I'll google-search it later and provide a link). For the benefits of this, it's enough to know that it doesn't matter for the film. The Joker has no history, no identification, no fingerprints, and no concrete motives. He is a Mephistopheles, a Devil-Figure, a Commedia del'Arte offshoot, a medieval Satan mixed with a court jester, up from a makeshift Hellmouth somewhere, brought to this earth for one purpose: to fuck shit up. He's the fantasy-ghoul that we subconsciously made of our terrorist threats, before we knew exactly what we were facing, before we really wanted anything more than a target for our revenge. We are both mesmerized and mortified by him, as we are by every mythic figure of our collective unknown. He says plenty of things, but you shouldn't believe more than a nugget of any of it.

Christian Bale's Batman is considerably over-matched by this guy. (not that that's a big deal: all superhero's are clinically over-matched; it wouldn't be any fun if they weren't). In fact, all of our heroes are over-matched: James Gordon (Gary Oldman) and Gotham's White Knight Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart). And each one is collectively more at risk of a mighty fall based on their prospective levels of confidence in themselves. Gordon knows he's in over his head, and comes out scared but unscathed. Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is constantly in over her head, but jumps in anyway, because she's an activist, so have fun with that if you haven't seen the movie. Wayne thinks he's invincible, but has a collective conscious wrapped up in his butler Alfred (Michael Caine) and his CEO Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman) that constantly keep him in check (or try to). The only one that's basically on his own and seems to think he's perfectly fine in that regard is Harvey Dent. Again... have fun with that if you've been living under a rock. Each one's over-confidence (or under-confidence, Lieutenant Gordon?), and general lack of faith in each other, each one's collective distrust of the system they're working for, compels them to keep secrets from each other, to keep things "close to the chest" as they continuously like to put it. As such, the only one who's constantly in the know is the one who's got spies in every department of every establishment and every building, and who's been staying under the radar because he's too elusive to catch and isn't the mob. Again, I'll google-search for the complete explanation, which may or may not be necessary to those who are down with the Mephistopheles explanation.

This all plays out wonderfully and makes for a splendid picture show. The main drawback is that we're watching two films that have been squeezed into one. The movie is two and half hours long, and that's not a problem, but there's so much going on and hardly any room to breath. The best, most resonating scenes in the film, in fact, are the quietest ones: the "double dating" scene in the restaurant, the moments between Alfred and Wayne in the underground bunker, and... actually, those are basically the only quiet scenes in the film. Somewhere around the point where Caesar is thrown around with palindromes secretly hidden in the names of street corners ("250 52nd street" and "the corner of Avenue X and Cicero"), there were a few moments where the action cooled down for a spell and everything should have set things up for a third film. Stretch out the scenes they had, make things more poignant, roll the credits, and have the third film shot before the second's gone to print.

Instead, we have the most rushed and overlong film to ever be dubbed "greatest film ever made". At least GODFATHER, PART II took its sweet-ass time, and nobody's accusing RETURN OF THE KING of not enjoying its moments.


****

On second thought, instead of turning this into two films, they should add 30 quiet, poignant, emotional, character-developing minutes to it (a scene with Gordon and his family maybe, one that doesn't seem like preconditioned foreshadowing in retrospect; one of Dent and Dawes that isn't a rushed between scene bit of nothing; nothing between Wayne and Alfred, since I really get the impression that their lives are nothing more than you see). I've followed 3-4 films without getting tired because the pacing was perfectly constructed. This one falls short of a masterpiece because it tries to do too much, and doesn't leave itself time to breathe.

8.16/10

STAR TREK (2009)

directed by J.J. Abrams

You have to be impressed by a film that has the balls to be both a prequel AND a sequel AND a complete reboot, while managing to be the eleventh film in a series, but really the eighth, and since its an alternate universe also the first. Science fiction can do that.

Its a good film on its own right. To be honest, I'm thoroughly against the idea that any film featuring a recurring character could ever be the greatest film ever made, so any Trekkie that goes into Dark Knight territory with talk of this being the "greatest movie ever made," don't bother arguing with them, just slowly walk away. But this is a damn good film. Even better knowing that it's playing with what came before it and finding a way to contain those elements into something fresh, coherent, and absorbing. And what a coup to pay homage to those elements by bringing in an actor from the old series and making his entry into the storyline relevant and prescient! Fantastic filmmaking...

If you're familiar with the characters and the series, then you don't need to know anything more. If you were born in the vast reaches of the jungle and didn't even know there was such a thing as a TV, then perhaps you haven't heard of Star Trek... but that's okay, you don't need to know anything more about this either. You will be both discombobulated by about half the movie, and enraptured by it as well.

The Trekkies that watched it with me were in worshipful adoration. Normally I self-righteously roll my eyes at people when they do that, but this time, instead, I chuckled. I kinda got where they were coming from.

8.46/10

INTOLERANCE (1916)

Directed by D.W. Griffith

I often wonder what people were used to watching back in the olden days of cinema. This is called spectacular, and in some ways it is, though if anything was released today nearing its sense of pacing and editing, it would be ISHTAR-ed right out of town.

Why Griffith decided to make this, I know only from what I've researched on it. Apparently, THE BIRTH OF A NATION (1915), now considered infamous due to its racist foundations and glorifying of the Ku Klux Klan, made a killing at the box-office and also inadvertently caused a rebirth of racist hatred in the United States. Griffith felt shitty about this, and decided to take an anti-moralist film he was working on, THE MOTHER AND THE LAW, and expand it into an epic four storied piece interwoven with the symbolic shot of Lillian Gish rocking the cradle of humanity.

The real shame here is that the modern story is far and away the most compelling of the four. While the sets of the other three are amazing by any standards (the film supposedly cost Griffith $40-50 million in today's dollars... I'm guessing all of it was spent on the sets and practically none of it on the cast of thousands), the stories are only somewhat... I'd wager if each were its own separate short piece, I'd have been able to sit through each one. Spliced together the way there are, it makes the whole thing tiring.

But, of course, the version I saw was 150 minutes long, with an apparent mix of classical music thrown in (with no sense of mood or timing). I'll still take this over a Carl Davis synth score any day of the week, but with half an hour cut out of it (I'd wager the Jesus story, since my version included, at most, 15 minutes worth of Christ), I can't review the editing, since its obviously been tampered with. I can't review the music either, since there isn't really any.

What I can review is the story (or -ies, what have you), the production designs, the acting, and the cinematography. The historical significance of this is essentially set in stone. Interweaving stories had never been done before and was ahead of its time (we can agree on this with confidence because the film flopped in supreme ISHTAR fashion, bankrupting Griffith's studio). It's been called "the greatest movie ever made" (I would agree that it's better than the best of what came before it: THE BIRTH OF A NATION, and that it held this title until, oh, BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN... so, what's that, 9 years?) "the only film fugue" which it could be, I dunno, I doubt it, since "fugue" is not entirely limiting enough for one hundred years of cinema to have only accidentally produced "one" of them. A masterpiece along the lines of Beethoven's Fifth and Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel? Hell no. Kubrick's 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY comes closer, and even that, with its moments of sheer brilliance, is still far from perfect. We haven't seen that work of majesty yet. Too many elements, too many deadlines, too many chances to compromise the artform.

So, INTOLERANCE does do its part to be placed among the greatest films ever made for its time. For all time? The titles are simply too pretentious, the acting too over-expressive, the characters caught between human complexities and archetypal broad strokes, and the pacing too intent on wallowing in the spectacle of it all. Babylon is awesome. But there's so much irony in us being asked to be awe-inspired by the settings and the revelry, while the revelry itself is what ends up wrenching victory from the hands of the on-again, off-again protagonists. A title card directs us to look at this "intolerance" (oh the drinking games that could be played off the over-insertion of that word!), then notes at the bottom how amazingly amazing the set is, lest the camera not be up to task in rendering us speechless. In France, the "evil ruling Catholics" slaughter the peaceful Huguenots (read: Protestants... and by read, I mean literally, you will read that Huguenot means "Protestant" (read: WASP)). Catherine is essentially doing what the modern antagonists, the Uplifters, as they're called, would be doing to the "drinkers and poor partygoers"if they could, and to drill the point home that we're not supposed to like her, her cohort holds a little puppy and is addressed in the text as "effeminate" (read: gay). Later on, Belshazzar, before committing suicide shares a kiss with his main general. The connotations here are a bizarre mix of biases and prejudices, and the filmmaker is brutally intolerant in deciding who we should be tolerant of.

Played in chronological order, these scenes play out thus (and I'm gonna go ahead and tell the ending to all but the modern story, since that's the only one Griffith truly gives a second thought about): In Babylon, a Rhapsode (read: pussy) falls in love with a Mountain Girl (read: feminist). She in turn falls in love with the king, who saves her from being married off by preposterously giving her a card of feminine independence (I shit you not). This leaves her free to trick the Rhapsode into letting her in on the secret that the priests, pissed that the king has abandoned their religion for that of his future queen's, are going to conspire with Cyrus of Persia to conquer Babylon (which from history, we know he did). Mountain Girl tries to warn the king, but the revelrous and licentious horde gets in her way and she doesn't make it in time. Everyone dies.

In the next story, Jesus hangs out with sinners while the Pharisees judge him. He says awesome things, and then (in this version, anyway), is summarily executed for no damn good reason whatsoever. He dies.

In the third story, the gay Catholics notice that a noble visitor is more impressed by the white Protestants. So they kill all the Protestants. (That's basically it).
In the modern story, the Uplifters, presented as rich old women who are fine with frolicking about until they realize one day that men no longer find them attractive, snuff out "immorality" in society with an unbridled sense of hypocrisy, self-righteous quick-triggered judgment, and INTOLERANCE. The protagonist of the story is mowed down in their crusade and goes from living a poor, but happy life with a little garden and a daddy who loves her into living in a rundown apartment, her baby in social services, and her husband in jail. Further complications will ensue, but I leave those to the viewer.

The message here is simple: Partying it up is awesome... unless you're rich, and then you're a capitalist/monarchist whore (no, wait, that's not it).... Bad people are easily identified by their money, hypocritical nature, shrewishness, effeminancy, and general non-Protestant religious tendencies, while good people are easily identifiable because they're young, Protestant (although I think Griffith tried to cover this by making his modern girl protagonist vaguely Catholic), and in love.

Actually, the only message here is: "Why can't we all just quit fighting and get along?" Nobody went to see this film because the question was already answered the year before, when Griffith made this little movie about how life would be great if the North hadn't fought the South and then put the evil slaves in power over them to steal their lands and rape their women. It's not the bigotries you see that you're danger of... it's the millions that you assume don't exist.

6.92/10

ATONEMENT (2007)

directed by Joe Wright

Every so often a beautiful little film comes along that seems to revel in itself. The best of these little things usually come in love story form. It makes it a bit easier for the audience to feel engaged in the tone poetry of it as well. The best bits of the celluloid tone poem THE NEW WORLD revolved around Pocahontas and John Smith dancing around one another (the rest of the film was an honest bore). ATONEMENT is about regret, and the sneaky little thing about regret is that it's basically as self-involving as the trite bit of shittery that got the regret started. It's those actions you can't take back that throw you to the wolves.

Little Briony Tallis (Saorise Ronan) jealously allows her imagination to run wild and so help her frame her crush Robbie Turner (James McAvoy) for a crime he didn't commit. He, for reasons that can only be literary, is in love with the girl's older sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley). And just when things are getting really interesting, he's sent to prison, and the rest of the film seems at a loss for what to do with everyone. Robbie ends up joining the army and fighting the war (well, stalking dreary battlefields mostly). There's a touching scene where he bumps into his Cecilia (who's become a nurse) and they exchange furtive glances and handholds at a restaurant before going their separate ways. The end of the film ruins this moment if you think about it, so I won't bring up anything else beyond that touching scene.

Except perhaps one little gem of a tracking shot that has our hero roaming around Dunkirk near sundown, the British army making the best of things in all the possible ways an army can when nothing appears to be going on. Its tonal poetry at its best, and the entire thing moves along in a dream. Everything beyond the great bringer of regret might as well be a dream. It has that same elusiveness, that same dour gloominess about it, like an old woman sitting in a rocking chair staring at a sunset and wishing it were years earlier.

8.08/10

KNOWING (2009)

directed by Alex Proyas

For some strange reason, it seems that in the last year or so, filmmakers have taken great concepts and just not really known what to do with them. This is the case with KNOWING, something that strives to be a clever film just as it tries (and fails) to have a clever title. There's nothing quite like a ridiculously compelling mystery/suspense scifi thriller to keep you guessing until the last thirty minutes, when you're subsequently forced to watch the thing come apart at just the point when it should be coming together. Ever had a great album with scratches that only appeared on your favorite song? That's what it's like to watch this movie.

Nic Cage can act. But he's not terribly versatile, so he only shines when he's in a role made for him, and he's only done that on a couple of occasions in his terribly long career. The rest of the time, he has a grab-bag of reflexes that he pulls out, or he just talks in a bored sort of manner. It's all well and good until your young costar has to show an emotion. Poor kid...

Basically, the story goes that there's this list of numbers that serves as a guide-map to future catastrophes. There's only numbers on it, no spacing, which in the end serves more as an allusion to the film as a whole than to any real deeper meaning. You have to figure out what the numbers mean like it's a puzzle, then when you do, you have to confront the fact that there's really not much you can do with the information you're given other than stick a bag of popcorn in the microwave and enjoy the show.

In fact, once you get past all the sci-fi hooha that passes for a climax, what you're left with is basically an excuse to see things blow up. Fine by me, I love a good explosion. However, it appears the filmmakers were more interested in a mass audience than a happy one, so even though crazy shit happens and lots of people die, the special effects themselves are just shy of the uncanny valley and appear just cartoonish enough to keep the teenagers in the room. Also, there are no tits. A movie with explosions should have tits. Just sayin'. (I had a teacher fantasy in the first scene... alas, the film jumps in time 50 years and the teacher aged with it. Pity).

What's my point? I don't really need to have one. Once you see the final shot of the film and manage to control your snickering, you'll realize why I leave it at that.

7.23/10

THE LORD OF THE RINGS (2001-2003)

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING (2001)
THE TWO TOWERS (2002)
THE RETURN OF THE KING (2003)


directed by Peter Jackson

I take no real pleasure in making distinctions between the three films that comprise THE LORD OF THE RINGS, though I believe the most poignant, well-crafted, and focused of the three is FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. For the most part, they all hold the same sense of magnitude: these are the seminal cinematic achievement of their era. They are walking in the proud footsteps of THE BIRTH OF A NATION, GREED, GONE WITH THE WIND, and STAR WARS. When people think of the period of 1990s-2000s, these will be the first films that spring to mind.

They are, of course, not without their flaws, and share them all equally. The more plotlines you have to follow, the more apparent are the same flaws that each of them has in common. Poor TWO TOWERS, with its three separate subplots bouncing in and out of each other. They all seem terribly important for one reason or other until you show the film sans one of them to somebody who's never read the books. Jackson always had a problem with editing. He loves his subject more than he loves the medium and would gladly have filmed each separate book as 6 3-hour movies if New Line had given him the money for it. (for those unaware, Tolkien originally meant for RINGS to be in six separate volumes. In this day and age, publishers would have happily obliged, and probably requested that he stretch it out even more. Back then, though, it was understood that people didn't have credit cards and couldn't just keep spending on a book that never seemed to have any resolution in sight).

Of course, since the film, in brief glimpses, seems essentially perfect, let's throw out a quick flaw the three collectively have real quick just to get it out of the way: Honestly, there's too many subplots. Not that it needs to modify the existing plot in any significant way, but certain aspects would be just as readily accepted if they were simply alluded to rather than focused on. I have my own ideas, but I'd rather not piss off the fan-base by naming them. It wouldn't require a re-shoot; just a more extensive editing session. (in a glaring example of this problem Jackson has when he has access to the resources, watch his version of KING KONG and ponder why it's twice as long as the original 1933 classic).

This is really the only significant flaw in the films. There are other, lesser flaws, such as the tendency for the dialogue to move from 'holy' to 'cheesy' and back again, but this is another thing editing could have taken care of. Once you cut them down to reasonable running times... you would have made a trilogy of amazing films into undeniable masterpieces.

8.69/10

CHANGELING (2008)

directed by Clint Eastwood


You wouldn't think the LAPD could be such dicks.... (heh)... but apparently it happened, and it happened pretty much just the way Clint Eastwood and screenwriter J. Michael Straczynski says it does. And it is almost absolutely true, with maybe a few disheartening details and some of the nastier bits indicated rather than flat-out shown.

Christine Collins, a female supervisor in 1928 (which basically makes her absolutely awesome), is called in to work one day just as she and her child Walter (Gattlin Griffith) are about to go to the cinema. She leaves her kid at the house and never sees him again (in real life, she gives him the dime and tells him to go to the movies by himself, which makes more sense, but also makes her somewhat negligible).

There's a search for the kid which takes about six months, and when the LAPD very proudly find him again, Christine shows up at the train station to be reunited with... some kid that she's never seen before in her life. The LAPD essentially tells her if she doesn't think it's her kid, then she's batshit insane, and from then on, the film becomes mostly about her battle with them. It's told in a very straightforward manner (as are most Eastwood films), and you spend quite a few moments calling bullshit, when in fact (unlike A BEAUTIFUL MIND), most of what you're seeing actually happened. It's no wonder nobody trusts the cops. Somebody should make a good movie about them that doesn't criminalize them or make them look incompetent. I'm trying to remember one, but... I guess when they're actually doing their job, it's not very interesting. Although I do love me some LAW AND ORDER (espcially SVU)!

8.16/10

BATMAN BEGINS (2005)

directed by Christopher Nolan

I remember being in a bar in my hometown right after BATMAN BEGINS was released. I hadn't had a chance to see it yet, and a lot of these guys were already making plans to see it again. First chance I got, I was there. And I wasn't disappointed.

Nolan's BATMAN is a different breed altogether. It shrouds itself in a modicum of realism, which is to say it's not realistic at all, but it certainly makes a good effort at pretending to be. Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) actually has a relationship with his father, actually trains to become a ninja (though he appears quite talented before he ever gets there... how he goes from millionaire playboy fuck-up to prison-nightmare is beyond me), and actually puts together all the separate elements to become Gotham's dark knight.

The film doesn't jump from origin to climax either, which is nice. Origin stories have a tendency to do that. As soon as the superhero comes to fruition, he kills off the main baddie and the credits begin rolling. It makes the entire film feel like a 2-hour long preview. BATMAN BEGINS feels like a complete film. And the final scene, a rooftop conversation between Batman and Gordon (Gary Oldman) almost makes you wish a sequel hadn't been in the works (though now that THE DARK KNIGHT is out, I'm glad they made one).

8.33/10

THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD (1965)

directed by George Stevens

Oh Holy Bore!

Being a bit of a bible buff, I was actually looking forward to this. I bought it in a 2-pack with Mel Gibson's THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST (total price for both: $9). Like PASSION, it's a Jesus movie, in that it's a biopic of the birth, life, death, and (occasionally) the resurrection of Jesus (Yeshua, Joshua, Josh) of Nazareth. Such an amazing life he lived that the Greek variation of his name, the one most prominent in texts, got "retired", so to speak (Central/South American Jesus doesn't count because it's pronounced"hey-soos" instead of "jee-zus").

Unfortunately, while the overall story is probably the greatest version of the story ever told, the pious monotone of nearly everyone involved renders this an unmitigated snooze-fest. Jesus is played here by Max von Sydow, a young man with an old soul who made his mark doing Ingmar Bergman films. He always appears sad and desolate, which is understandable, given that Bergman typically engages in atheistic nihilism. In fact, this Jesus spouts the good news as though he just walked off the set of a Bergman film. Everything comes out hollow as the umpteenth mass performed on a rainy unimportant day by an alcoholic Catholic priest. He carries a quiet smile the entire time, but if what he's saying will subject him to a thinly veiled government assassination and eventual cult following to the point of greatest religion ever, God is truly working miracles indeed. He's about as charismatic as your typical near-retirement calculus professor. This is made all the more ridiculous by the presence of Charlton Heston as John the Baptist, Donald Pleasance as Satan, and Sidney Poitier as Simon. These are, by far, the three most compelling characters in this film, and when they appear, the movie suddenly comes alive. Unfortunately, their presence makes up roughly thirty minutes of screen-time. Simon doesn't even say anything, but Sidney's portrayal is spot-on in its intensity. (It also comes right around the time of the Civil Rights Act, so there's great potency in seeing a black man carrying the cross for Christ). At least it would, were it any other Christ but our cardboard cut-out Jesus.

All this boring Jesus business would be forgivable if the movie wasn't so damned long. Jesus is barely around for the first third of the movie, as its deemed extremely important that we know exactly who holds power in the region and where. There's apparently a tetrarchy of kings who are under control of a governor, who bows to.... really, who gives a shit? Jesus is here to open up the doorway of salvation to the world. He chooses to come at the perfect time: the Roman Empire owns 1/3 of everything inhabited, so anything that makes a ripple in Caesar's palace has accomplished 33% of the ultimate shout-out. He's also born to the last generation of old-school Israel (they would be dispersed by Nero before the turn of the century). So... you show us a little Rome and your mission's basically accomplished. Why get lost in drearily unimportant politics? What are you, THE PHANTOM MENACE?

Two hours into the film, we see a passage which includes the verse "Jesus wept." That's the entire verse. The connotation is that Jesus spent a considerable bit of time crying his eyes out. In this film, there's a half-minute shot of Jesus doing just this... except he doesn't. His eyes water, his jaw sets and we get: one single tear. I recalled that scene from TERMINATOR 2 where Arnold Schwarzenegger's Terminator spends the same amount of time straining to offer up a smile. Then the screen goes dark and we're treated to: "Intermission."

Why are these people trying to kill Jesus? He's obviously quite dead already.

6.66/10 (the mark of the devil is unintentional, I promise).

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON (2008)

directed by David Fincher

I've never read the F. Scott Fitzgerald story, though I've heard enough about it to know there's no reason for me to. In terms of adapting it into a film, David Fincher has made quite the allegory.

Benjamin Button (Brad Pitt) is born eighty years old and reverts back to infancy, all the while retaining the soul and emotional state of a normal human being. He simply looks old. The script (by Eric Roth) keeps him quiet and Pitt portrays him with a level-headedness that makes you wonder from time to time if he actually is, in fact, as eighty-years-old as he looks, but so far as I can tell, there's a kid in that body.

He grows up in an old folks home. Is this poignant or ironic? The film wishes it were both, and I found the film itself teetered on both. It wants to be poignant, but as long as Button keeps his mouth shut, the emotional resonance is a bit muddled and lost.

Much the same for the direction of the film. As Button grows older, Roth's pen tries to set him on an adventure that's also supposed to be poignant. Everywhere he goes, he finds himself surrounded by lonely people. He's on a boat to Russia with a captain that drinks and reminisces about lost dreams. He begins an affair with Elizabeth Abbot (Tilda Swinton), who stays up nights drinking and reminiscing about... err, lost dreams. He comes home to find Daisy, a girl he knew, has all grown up (and being played by Cate Blanchett). She's doing fine until he shows up, then she has an accident and spends the rest of the film... well, she doesn't really drink much, but she certainly spends her time wishing things had turned out differently.

And because our "hero" is only at home around lonely people, as soon as she makes the best of things by getting pregnant and starting a dance studio, he comes up with a reason to leave so the whole "old man loneliness" thing can continue.

This film is the flip-side of Roth's earlier "follow-a-life" melodrama Forrest Gump. Where Gump was a "forever child" no matter how old he got and managed to constantly surround himself with "progress" and moving forward and people who were always looking ahead and planning for the future, Button is a "forever senior citizen" no matter how young he looks and manages to constantly surround himself with people that have seen better days. Both have lifelong loves that can't relate to them, and only seek them out in desperation. Both end in a touch of sadness. Where Forrest Gump reaches the level of poignancy that tugs at your heartstrings (Gump grows up to an extent with a heavy price), Button never really grows young as he could have. Instead, he disappears for a spell just when his life (and the movie) could have really become interesting.

I kept wishing that we had followed Diasy. Pitt's Button is a curious character, but not an interesting one. Blanchett's Daisy is far more interesting, and her storyline would've made for a better film, IMHO. Fincher/Roth/Pitt wants us to treat Button like a case study, when there's nothing to study beyond the shallow. And the shallow end of things (the look of the film) is expert and without reproach. It's the rest of the film that, while certainly not being horrible, is still found wanting.

7.66/10

RACHEL GETTING MARRIED (2008)

directed by Jonathon Demme

Indie films don't get much better than this. And it's almost entirely due to a tremendous script by Jenny Lumet and tremendous acting ensemble (Anne Hathaway, Rosemary Dewitt, Bill Irwin, and Debra Winger being the highlights). To me, when one actor shines, I give them the credit; when all the actors shine, I credit the writing and directing.

Jonathon Demme hasn't worked much with actors lately. He apparently doesn't like them. With their often preening egos, I can't imagine why... However, this is an indie film, and with indies, the actors are in it for the art and not the money. Demme, almost by default, gets far more control out of them than he would were this a big-budget Hollywood production. And it shows.

I'm not usually one for indie films. While I appreciate the opportunities they present to people to work for the sake of art and not for the sake of mullah, they often tend to have sub-par acting, prententious scripts, and self-important (nonexistent) themes. It's nice when established professionals take a step back and do something they just purely enjoy doing.

Should I mention much of the plot? I hate doing that. Kim (Anne Hathaway), is out of rehab just in time for her sister Rachel's (Rosemary DeWitt) wedding. Shit-timing, to be honest, as Kim has a lot of open wounds that need to be tended and has come to face the awkward stare of a preoccupied family who have had a long history of dealing with her and just don't have the time or the desire. They love her, and you can see this, but good god, there's a wedding going on! Upon the arrival of Kim and Rachel's absent mother (Debra Winger), some past haunts plague the group and threaten to sever their already tenuous relationships.

Lumet has these characters figured out completely. Even when they respond irrationally (and they do, quite often), they remain true to themselves and don't service the plot. She doesn't wade into melodrama for the sake of melodrama (see: Slumdog Millionaire, which is so popular for the exact reason it's so not great), and beyond a desperately contrived and somewhat unnecessary scene involving an old party favor hidden in a stack of dishes (have they not used those dishes in five years time? Really? I mean, really?), there's not a moment of this movie that doesn't feel completely real and not an ounce of that seems overwrought.

On a minor note, would it have been a huge disgrace if they'd thrown in a couple more bucks for a steady-cam?

8.27/10