Yi Yi

Initially Published Here

The last film completed by Edward Yang before he passed away in 2007, Yi Yi is also, arguably, his best. An intimate epic, it moves at a leisurely pace but is packed with so much detail and so many finely drawn characters that its almost 3 hour running time flies past like time spent with great friends. Like Altman at his best, Yang trusts his audience to put together the connections between people and places. The film has plenty of laughs and drama, but Yang’s camera moves with such subtle grace that these moments seem to come out of nowhere and hit all the harder for it. And the film features one of the most eloquent metaphors for the power of film I have ever encountered -- an 8 year old boy, played by Jonathan Chang in one of the great child performances ever, takes to photographing the back of people’s heads in order to show them something they have never seen before. “You can’t see it yourself, so I’m helping you,” is how he puts it and that moment has stuck with me in the decade since I first saw the film.

Criterion have upgraded their already excellent DVD package to Blu-Ray. Presentation is much more film-like than any previous home video version. Most of the extras are carried over from the prior Criterion release and include a commentary track by Yang and critic Tony Rayns, a video interview with Rayns about the New Taiwan Cinema movement and an insightful essay by film writer Kent Jones which focuses on Yang’s empathetic depiction of modern life in Taipei.

Once Upon a Time in Mexico

Initially Published Here

Over a decade after making his bones with El Mariachi (and eight years since he remade the film for Hollywood as Desperado) director Robert Rodriguez returned once again to his guitar slinging assasin in 2003 for, presumably, the final installment of the series. The action pieces and special effects are less threadbare than before but the story is still bare bones -- something about military coups and drug cartels and everyone is double-crossing everyone else. It amounts to an excuse to revel in some serious B-movie bravado. People fall balletically from balconies, bodies are propelled by unseen springboards as fireballs explode and a street fair is always a sign that a shootout is soon to follow.

Antonio Banderas plays things a little too straight here. He exhibits precious little of the lunk-headed charm he brings to his best roles. But the rest of the cast (Mickey Rourke, Willem Dafoe, Cheech Marin, Danny Trejo) all seem to having fun. This goes double for Johnny Depp who really seems to get off on trying to keep a straight face while parading through the film in an array of increasingly ugly T-shirts. His utter lack of seriousness perfectly compliments Rodriguez's grindhouse sensibilities.

This new Blu-ray edition looks and sounds terrific and features a slew of extras -- some wholly expected (deleted scenes, commentary track) but some fun surpises as well. Rodriguez narrates a little tutorial on how he managed to make the film on the cheap and on the fly and, in my favorite bit, spends some time in the kitchen showing you how to make his favorite pork dish. He could have a second career as a Food TV host.

Shock Corridor

First Published Here

Samuel Fuller, considered in certain circles the patron saint of American independent cinema was, in fact, a studio man for much of his career. It wasn’t until the early '60s when those relationships had run their course that Fuller turned to less conventional means to finance his pictures. The ‘indie’ film that cemented his reputation was 1963’s Shock Corridor. As subtle as a kick to the head and just as unnerving, the film concerns a reporter who feigns mental illness to gain admittance to an institution where a patient’s murder goes unsolved. But the murder mystery is an afterthought, an excuse for Fuller to expose and espouse on a variety of societal ills. Racism, communism, nuclear war all come under attack in a ceaseless torrent of invective perfectly matched to the flat staging, cheap sets and Stanley Cortez’s harsh, elemental lighting. You might shake your head at the film’s sheer brazenness, but you can’t help but marvel at Fuller’s primal audacity.

I imagine that Criterion’s new Blu-ray edition looks and sounds just as good if not better than the film did when it got its initial b-movie theatrical run. The disc also includes a terrific hour long documentary shot for IFC the year before Fuller passed away in 1997 as well as an interview with star Constance Towers and some neat new artwork by cartoonist Daniel Clowes.

Micmacs

Initially Published Here

The films of director Jean-Pierre Jeunet are an acquired taste. Actually, that’s wrong: “acquired taste” implies that with time their charms are likely to grow on you. For this particular critic, that moment has never happened and probably never will. Perhaps “not for everyone” is a more apt description. Stuffed to the brim with whimsy and wonder regardless of the subject matter, his films are as visually distinct and conceptually idiosyncratic as any filmmaker working today.

Micmacs is his latest delivery system for Rube-Goldberg-inspired mayhem. Bazil (Dany Boon) loses his father to a landmine and years later finds himself with a bullet lodged precariously in his skull. He takes up with a group of lovable misfits (each with their own distinctly loony skill) who help him exact revenge on the weapons manufacturers responsible for both incidents. Perhaps there is a bigger point to be made regarding arms dealing and the futility of violence, but I suspect that isn’t really what’s on Jeunet’s mind. Levers are turned, buttons are pushed, traps are sprung and in the end you either find it all remarkably clever or ... you simply don’t.


This Blu-ray edition does justice to some truly stunning photography (despite working with a new DP, Micmas has the same burnished copper and lush green look of most of Jeunet’s films) and the obligatory “Making-Of” featurette is certainly more interesting than most as long as you don’t mind the magician revealing some of his secrets.

Videodrome

Initially Published Here

In 1983 David Cronenberg was known as a genre director. A respected one, but a genre director nonetheless, and a horror one to boot. If he was lucky he’d get a feature in Phangoria one day, but there was no reason to expect High Art from the guy. But with the release of Videodrome that year things started to change. A seriously deranged confluence of biological gore and media theory, it certainly wasn’t the first ‘smart’ horror film, but it made explicit (in every sense of the word) the intellectual rigor behind it’s queasy intersection of S&M, porn, and horror. If Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven’s early films play as drive-in ‘art brut’, Cronenberg’s cool visual style and detached perspective were downright clinical by comparison and, perhaps, all the scarier for it. And while the movie’s emphasis on now antiquated video technology may seem quaint to younger viewers, there is nothing dated about its obsession with the intersection of the virtual and the real. In fact, swap out the internet for the film’s clandestine pirate satellite broadcasts and the story would work just as well (damn, I hope I haven’t given some vacuous producer the idea to remake the damn thing).

Criterion has upgraded their already stellar DVD set to Blu-ray with a pronounced improvement in color accuracy and much more film-like look overall. While the extras are more or less the same as the prior edition, they are copious and well-done; two commentary tracks (one by Cronenberg and his cinematographer Mark Irwin, the other by stars James Woods and Deborah Harry), as well as a documentary on the film’s video and make-up effects and a filmed roundtable discussion on horror films from 1982 with John Carpenter, John Landis and Mick Garris joining Cronenberg. And most intriguing of all is the complete, unedited footage that comprises the “Videodrome Transmissions” from the film. Prepare to be freaked out for some time.

Mutiny on the Bounty

Initially Published Here

The very definition of what Manny Farber termed “White Elephant Art,” Mutiny on the Bounty was the prestige film of 1935 and won the Academy Award for Best Picture. It stars Clark Gable, one year after his breakthrough leading man role in It Happened One Night, as Fletcher Christian and Charles Laughton, at his scenery chewing best, as the villainous Captain Bligh. Also along for the voyage is Franchot Tone as Midshipmen Byam who gets to play the middle against Gable’s “gone native” Christian and Laughton’s cruel Captain. Interesting footnote -- all three actors received Best Actor nominations for their performances. It wasn’t until the following year that the “Supporting Actor” category was created to avoid just such problematic issues.

As directed by journeyman Frank Lloyd, the film holds up well as a ripping yarn filled with high seas adventure. It’s considerably less interesting as an examination of the treatment of sailors by His Royal Majesty’s Navy. Tone is given a painfully earnest speech towards the end of the film imploring that men be motivated by kindness and reward rather than punishment and how the Navy could “sweep the seas for England” if only they could all be a little more like Mr. Christian and a little less like Captain Bligh. But from a dramatic perspective it is Laughton’s Bligh that is by far the most entertaining character on screen.

The Blu-ray edition of this 75-year-old film is a bit of a mixed bag. For the most part, it looks excellent with only a few brief scenes showing any signs of significant damage. But it is fairly skimpy on the extras with only a one-minute Academy Awards newsreel, a trailer and a superfluous short film on Pitcairn Island (where Christian and his fellow mutineers ultimately landed). The disc is packaged with a 34-page booklet with many nice publicity stills but precious little additional information on the shooting.

Modern Times

Initially Published Here

Charles Chaplin is one of cinema’s great humanists and perhaps none of his features is more empathetic (and none more relevant to today’s economic crisis) than Modern Times. Released almost a decade after the Jazz Singer had ushered in the ‘Talking Motion Picture,' the film is still largely silent, that is if you don’t count music and sound effects. When his Tramp character speaks on screen for the first time ever in the film’s penultimate scene, it is to sing a song of gibberish made-up sounds and syllables, a comment on Chaplin’s belief that words only got in way of being truly funny (his art was first and foremost about pantomime, and it is no coincidence that he retired the Little Tramp character with this film).

The film’s vignettes make well-drawn, still relevant observations on the role of work in everyday life without being didactic. And while the film may be light on guffaws, it has more than its share of exquisitely choreographed set-pieces that are still a marvel to behold almost 80 years later. Chaplin never had a more well-matched female lead than Paulette Goddard. Unlike the many films which end with Charlie walking away alone, here the Factory Worker and the Gamine walk together arm in arm into an uncertain but hopeful future. It’s damn near a happy ending.

Criterion’s Blu-ray edition may lack that ‘wow’ factor so many people look for in the new format, but it is truly a marvel given the age of the materials involved. The film’s look is clean, with even grain throughout and rich contrast. Extras are considerable -- a terrific commentary track by Chaplin biographer David Robinson, two new visual essays, detailed looks at the film’s soundtrack as well as its visual and sound effects, and the classic Chaplin two-reeler The Rink, where he first showed off the roller skating skills he puts to such good use in Modern Times.

Please Give

Initially Published Here

Nicole Holofcener’s latest dramedy centers on a NYC couple (Catherine Keener and Oliver Platt) who make their living buying estate sale furniture and selling it at exorbitant mark-ups out of their chi-chi boutique. They do well enough to have purchased the apartment adjacent to their own which is currently occupied by nonagenarian Andra (Ann Guilbert), who is cared for by her granddaughters (Rebecca Hall and Amanda Peet). Everyone involved tries hard not to think about the reality of waiting for poor Andra to die so that they can all get on with their lives in one way or another.

If that makes them sound like bad people … well, that’s the point that Holofcener’s film is struggling with. In fact, they’re not bad people, but that doesn’t keep them from doing bad things. The film’s pleasure is in watching these characters come to grips with their behavior and navigate towards some balance. It’s an honest and painfully funny depiction of human nature, perfectly cast and scripted. There’s nary a false note here.

This Blu-ray edition does an excellent job of making the best of the film’s obviously meager production values. And rather than the obligatory commentary track, the disc includes an insightful Q&A with the writer/director where she sheds additional light on the film.

Hard Candy

Initially Published Here

You’d be hard pressed to find a touchier subject than adolescent sexuality. 14-year-olds are going to be exploring their sexuality whether by themselves or with others, but the prospect becomes much thornier when one of the participants is “of age” and the other isn’t. Is it rape? Can it ever be considered truly consensual? Is there ever the possibility of a positive experience for everyone involved?

These are some of the interesting questions briefly considered by Hard Candy until they are summarily dropped and replaced by a sadistic little revenge story. Hayley (played by a 15-year-old Ellen Page) is 14 and flirting online with Jeff (Patrick Wilson), a 32-year-old photographer. Both are clear on each other’s age but nonetheless agree to meet at a coffee shop. Further flirtation leads to a drive to Jeff’s art deco home. Soon the vodka bottle is out, as is the camera. And right when you think you know what’s going on Jeff wakes up from a drug induced blackout and finds himself tied to a chair. See, Hayley is not your average nerdy-cute bookworm. Her talents extend to stalking, knot tying, and crime scenes. And then there are her knife skills.

Hard Candy becomes a two-person ‘play’ of sorts where Hayley confronts Jeff with accusations of everything from kiddie pornography to molestation to murder while Jeff desperately pleads his innocence and begs for mercy. Director David Slade manages to keep things moving expertly despite the one set, two character set up and the HD photography makes stylish work of the candy-colored walls and fashion prints that decorate the space. Page and Wilson both manage to acquit themselves well despite a script that frequently lapses into dialectics. As the action becomes more and more visceral I was less forgiving of the clumsy speechifying placed in Hayley’s mouth. By the end she’s nothing less (or more) than a precocious teenage version of Hannibal Lecter. Unfortunately, the more Haley becomes a true ‘monster’ the less interesting the film ultimately is.

Secretary

Initially Published Here

Secretary is that special rarity -- an American indie that manages to be genuinely erotic in addition to being both funny and touching. Its tone is just off-balance enough that we never quite get comfortable. That we are capable of feeling deeply in the end for its more-than-slightly bent protagonists is a testament to the skills of everyone involved.

Based on a short story by Mary Gaitskill (who has gone on a record as calling the adaptation “a little too nice” for her tastes), the film stars Maggie Gyllenhaal in her breakout role as Lee, a quiet, anxious young women who returns to her parents’ home after a brief stay at a mental health facility. In an effort to ground herself again she starts dating Peter, an old high school friend (played by Jeremy Davis) and takes a job at a law firm headed up by Mr. Grey (James Spader, doing that slick but creepy thing that he’s always done better than just about anyone else).

The sado-masochistic relationship that develops between Lee and Mr. Grey is at the heart of the film and it is precisely where things could have gone horribly wrong. But director Steven Shainberg treats his characters affectionately and finds the humor in the inherent absurdity of their behavior (come to think of it, this may be exactly what Gaitskill didn’t care for). They are broken people in some ways, but they also fulfill very real needs for each other and come to an understanding that’s … well, if it’s not love it’s within shouting distance

A low budget film like Secretary isn’t exactly a film crying out for Blu-ray treatment, but the new format does an excellent job of reproducing the film’s soft, candy-colored palette. The color scheme does have a great deal to do with the film’s overall mood and any improvements are most welcome.

High Tension

Initially Published Here

During the first decade of the 21st century, some misguided film theorists and critics decided to try and lump together an otherwise disparate collection of movies and filmmakers under the heading of “New French Extremism.” Included in this genre were films as wildly different in style and sensibility as Demonlover, Pola X, and Baise-moi as well as the careers of directors such as Gasper Noe, Catherine Breillat and Philippe Grandrieux. To be sure, these folks all share an interest in unsettling subject matter. But their approaches and sensibilities vary wildly from the visceral to the intellectual to the pornographic and everything in between.

By far the most populist in intention of all the films considered was Alexandre Aja’s High Tension (made in 2003, the director has gone on to direct several Hollywood horror films including this summer’s Piranha 3D). A straight-up throwback to the horror/slasher films of the ’70s and ‘80s, High Tension showed the world that the French were just as capable of producing a first-rate scare film as anyone. The story is as basic as they come -- two girls return to one’s country home to study for upcoming exams when all hell breaks loose. They are pursued by the proverbial unstoppable killing machine until one of the girl’s (Cecile De France’s Marie) manages to turn the tables. Or does she … ?

Let me get this out of the way upfront: I found De France’s Marie to be one of the sexiest screen presences I’ve encountered in a long time. With her large, expressive eyes and crew cut she comes across like Falconetti with a body by Nautilus. The film itself is quite beautiful at times, with corn gently swaying in a midnight breeze and blood dripping down a white closet door getting equal attention. Action sequences are fluid and exacting without any of the frantic camerawork that stands in for genuine suspense in a lot of horror films. However, the movie completely lost me during the big “reveal.” It has a truly awful twist ending that felt not only gratuitous but insulting. It makes very little sense in the context of everything that’s gone before. It’s a real shame. If the filmmaker had just stuck to the straight and narrow this could have been the perfect little horror movie instead of the dopey genre exercise it turns into.

Wonderland

Initially published here

The tragic life of porn legend John Holmes (and the series of brutal drug murders he was associated with in the early ‘80s) has fascinated Hollywood for several decades. Director Paul Thomas Anderson borrowed many of the details of Holmes’ story for his career-making film Boogie Nights(1997), and Christopher Walken was rumored for years to be working on a Holmes related project with director Abel Ferrara and screenwriter/actress Zoe Lund. In 2003 director James Cox got the chance to make a film detailing Holmes’ involvement in the murders that took place on Wonderland Ave. in Los Angeles in 1981.

That film, Wonderland (2003) stars Val Kilmer as Holmes and a cast of terrific supporting actors including Lisa Kudrow, Eric Bogosian, Dylan McDermott and Ted Levine. Unfortunately, their talents are wasted in support of an undernourished story and lame directorial choices. There isn’t a single shot, angle, edit, or music cue that hasn’t been done before (and better). Split screens, rapid tracking shots, a pounding K-Tel Sounds of the Seventies-approved soundtrack; Cox throws everything but the kitchen sink at the story, but leaves us with thin characters and little reason to care about what happens to any of them. At a minimum Wonderland should be able to carry the audience forward on the sheer momentum of its terrifically lurid true-life crime tale. But the film is clumsy and trips over itself whenever things start to move forward. It ultimately plays like a very expensive episode of 48 Hours Mystery.

Much better is Wadd: The Life & Times of John C. Holmes, a full-length documentary included in its entirety as a bonus on this Blu-ray disc. Not even listed on the disc packaging and, I suspect, edited of any explicit pornographic imagery, it at least features interviews with many of Holmes’ contemporaries who provide a much more well-rounded and interesting look at the man and the circumstances surrounding the murders.

Jacob's Ladder

Initially published here

Since its release in 1990, the film has been known, first and foremost, as a “Gotcha!” movie. “Gotcha!” movies invariably feature an out-of-left-field twist, typically right near the end, which triggers a desire to reevaluate everything you thought the film was about right up until that moment. Because of this, many “Gotcha” films tend to be either loved (“My God, I never saw that coming!”) or loathed (“My God, I saw that coming from a mile away!”) strictly on the strength of their twist.

Jacob Singer (played by Tim Robbins fresh off his breakthrough role in Bull Durham) is a Vietnam veteran trying to make sense of his new life stateside when he finds himself plagued with nightmarish visions of demons trying to kill him. When he finds out that other members of his platoon are suffering the same harrowing thoughts, he attempts to find out if the Army is somehow responsible. And then … jeez, I guess journalistic decorum obliges me to not give away the twist to a 20-year-old movie. Does anyone out there who doesn’t already know going to have any interest in watching the film now? How about this -- I’ll just reference “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” and leave it at that.

The problem with most of these films is that they typically don’t hold up well to the reverse scrutiny that they seem to demand. Much of the film’s plot, character development, heck, even individual shots and sounds, don’t make any sense when considered in light of the “Gotcha” moment. Jacob’s Ladder is truly pretentious in its pretending to be much smarter and intellectually rigorous than it actually is. As a horror film, however, it holds up surprisingly well and much of its more frightening imagery is still capable of instilling dread during a quiet, late night viewing.

This Blu-ray edition is short on the “Wow” factor that many people have come to demand from the new format. What we get instead is simply the best looking and sounding version of the film ever on home video. There seems to be a significant amount of grain in the imagery which is in keeping with many of the film’s grim locales (subways, VA hospitals, some decidedly un-gentrified NYC neighborhoods). I suspect this is as good as the film has looked since its premiere.

Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence

Initially published here

I had avoided Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence for years on the assumption that it was a Bridge on the River Kwai-style war film -- all khaki and olive green, stiff upper lips and inscrutable ‘others.' Quality cinema to be sure, just not my cup of tea. Instead, I discover this hothouse melodrama of unspoken lust and unrequited love between the obsessed Captain Yonoi (played by Japanese pop star Ryuichi Sakamoto) and Major Jack Celliers (played by rock icon David Bowie).

The film was directed by Nagisa Oshima, whose remarkable career stretches back to the late ‘50s and includes such legendary work as Cruel Story of Youth, Death by Hanging, and the equally florid In the Realm of the Senses. He brings his intense, passionate sensibilities to the story of a Japanese POW camp where British soldiers are being held towards the end of WWII. The camp is running relatively smoothly thanks to a begrudging understanding between Colonel John Lawrence (Tom Conti) and Sergeant Hara (Takeshi Kitano, back when he was primarily known as a TV comedian and long before he made a name for himself as a director). But into the relative calm comes Major Selliers and Captain Yonoi, the camp’s director, is smitten. The tension mounts as both the Japanese and British soldiers begin to understand the Captain’s unspoken feelings. Emotions reach a fever pitch when Selliers kisses Yonoi (formally, on both cheeks) in an effort to keep him from killing a British soldier. The camera begins to literally shake as if the Captain’s passions can no longer be restrained.

It’s a simple and literal expression of his longing and an amazing moment to witness. Unfortunately, we know things are now destined to end in disaster for both men.

Criterion’s Blu-ray edition of the film captures those khakis and greens with an intensity missing in prior home video versions. The disc is loaded with extras including new interviews with Conti and Sakamoto (who also composed the film’s pulsing electronic score). The disc’s only short fall is that while it includes English subtitles for Japanese dialogue, there are no optional English subtitles for the entire film. These would have been helpful as Captain Yonoi often speaks to the British soldiers in broken English that is difficult to understand. Still, a small quibble with what amounts to another remarkable Criterion release.