Post Grad

awful.

Cinema in Jest

Quentin Tarantino's six (or seventh- however you see the Kill Bill installment) film, Inglorious Basterds, seems to ultimately be a veritable homage to cinema itself. Film (specifically the film community), becomes our climactic end to all evil. Our complicated (and often slow-moving) mixture of filmmatic references, genres, narratives and characters converge in our common thread (and language): cinema. I do not doubt the infinite number of ways one can read this film- I myself am still struggling to fully contemplate my two and a half hour viewing experience. I can ultimately say little more than you need to see it for yourself. For this film, more than any other that I've seen recently, deserves personal viewership.

Layers and layers of cinematic history and reference build upon the film's five-part narrative. Grounded in our three rag-tag groups: the basterds (lead by charming and wonderfully cool Brad Pitt), our Jewish heroine in search of revenge (Melanie Laurent), and our Nazi "enemy" (celebrated Christoph Waltz). I leave "enemy" in quotations as I contemplate the talent of Mr. Waltz. His charm and gripping performance undoubtably leads the film, as he becomes our dangerously luring connecting character between the three groups. His expertise of Nazi charm becomes charismatic beyond all borders of preconceived Nazi-hate. (The same can be said for Bruhl's doe-eyed Zoller). Tarantino's Nazis become likable, enigmatic humans and cold-blooded killers (note: nearly every person we encounter could fall into similar categories). And though I do not view this with the distain of the New York Times, I think it's an important paradox to think about.

Though Inglorious Basterds let me have a pretty good time (Tarantino can always be counted on to make explicit violence a hell of a lot of fun), I think it needed some serious editing. And you're likely going to hear me say it time and time again: a brilliant writer/director does not exist. The ability for self editing seems to have diminished in one's own attempts to deliver a fully-controlled piece of work. Tarantino, like his other contemporary counterparts (i.e. Charlie Kaufman, Michel Gondry, M. Night Shyamalan) fail to see beyond their big vision. To put if frankly, Basterds was probably about 45 minutes too long. The film often got lost in Tarantino's homage to the western stand-off, bogging itself down in tension-filled extensive dialogue, with little cinematic form to match. Often with a bit of formal technical intervention, our verbal shpeal could have been cut in half. Yet I was interested, for nearly the entire time. Which is why I continue to circle around this film. As much as I continue to look into techniques, be it narrative, formal, referential, I cannot come to a concluding thought. I seem to have been handed a mess of contemplative fodder and am left to my own devices- which are currently failing me. There seems to no right nor wrong way of looking at it; only the inspiration of critical thought and an agonizing infinite road, splitting at every turn with no end. But maybe I'm analyzing a bit too much; is this really a complex compilation of cinematic reference, or is Tarantino simply fucking with me?

hmm... nearly a decade for this?

James Cameron has some serious ego. The premier trailer for his first film in nearly a decade, Avatar, debuted on Apple Trailers today. Eagerly anticipated for last few years, the trailer was preempted by a flashy countdown heading on the site for nearly a week before hand. So, upon my initial viewing, expectations are high. Did it kind of suck? Well yeah. Come on, James Cameron, what do you expect? His ridiculous campaign for this film makes me think his head has gotten bigger than his attempts at what looks like Fern Gully 4.

District 9

Did District 9 live up to my over-hyped, over-advertised expectations? Of course not. Did the film undoubtably show immense promise for new director Neil Blomkamp? Absolutely.

The film in its entirely does deserve the hype and praise its been given. Is it a perfect film? One to break all barriers of film before it? No. But what can you expect? This film came out of something purely commercial. District 9's Halo beginnings are all over this film, sending a big "fuck you" to the studios that showed little confidence in Blomkamp's "amateur" status.

And Blomkamp shows no sign of rookiehood as the film expertly crafts a world in which aliens feel and look like they belong here in our modern world. The small 30 million dollar budget lends itself to an inventive new director, as Blomkamp uses mock documentary footage and grainy CG to layer commercial media into the fabric of modern day Johannesburg. This method, more successful than other recent films like that of Cloverfield or Quarantine, allows the viewer to comfortably hold their meal while the camera moves through uneven shots and scrolling closed circuit security footage. The tension feels and looks real, we become connected to our protagonist Wilkus and even his completely fake "prawn" friend Christopher. We're shocked, disgusted and wow'd by the hurried and rushed cinematic image. It's elegant, dirty, raw, fun and liberating. Tight editing and carefully crafted cinematography gives off a careless feel, while perfectly manipulating the unsuspecting viewer. I'm in love with it.

And then I got bored. District 9 turned from inspirational directorial debut to all-out action-packed Hollywood crap. Suddenly I felt like I was watching Halo, a movie I couldn't give a damn about. And perhaps that's my biggest problem with the film. So much about the end of the film seemed to be focused on showcasing the Halo that "could have been." Our beautifully recreated video and documentary footage turned to classical continuity editing. We lost our shaky camera in exchange for something more typical of the latest Michael Bay film. Destroyed is our intriguing and mysterious plot-line constructed through playfully vague interviews. Instead we got the typical storyline riding on heroics and the power of love. Bleh. Even if it's alien love, it's still boring! What happened? I don't need to see every awesome gun you've got in your giant spaceship or watch a slum be demolished by exploding machinery. I want the mystery and tension back, and not in the "in-your-face" kind of way. If I wanted the end of this film I'd have just tortured myself by watching G.I. Joe or one of the other dozen blockbusters of its kind littering the theaters of our summer movie season. But this disappointment in ending does not make me forget the perfection of the first half. I have high hopes for you, Blomkamp, don't let me down.

...sigh

I cannot help but admit my soft spot for well constructed trailer. New York, I Love You's sweeping trailer manages to bring about the most cliched of urges embrace the Romantic Comedy genre with all my heart. Honesty, I'm a sucker for a catchy song, well-placed inter-titles and some tricky editing. Pull me in and take me there.

on a happier note...

I know this film has gotten an infinite slew of hype, but I'd just like everyone to know I bounce back despite cinematic disappointment: hope restored.

enjoy.

reflective and somewhat cynical beginnings

It seems somewhat cliche for me to begin this project after viewing the lighthearted summer movie, Julie and Julia. After all, the story chronicles a year of blogging, cooking and soul searching for Amy Adam's character Julie Powell. But I think I'd like to use this fluffy film to rethink the "hopeful" message of the movie. And hopefully this critical and undeniably biased look into our world of film, divided into "first," "second," and "third" cinemas (not to mention the infinite divisions reliant on economic and marketable genres), will begin to deconstruct our preconceived assumptions as film audience members.

I begin with Julie and Julia, a movie of little to no importance. The film is the typical "uplifting" tale of new beginnings, and driven attitudes, solidly grounded in one defining factor: food. Though the story attempts to parallel the lives of infamous chef Julia Child and down-and-out cubicle worker Julie Powell, I'd like to argue the entire story collapses on itself through the utterance of a single soothing doubt. I will not bore you with a recollection of the bland parallel plot, rather I'll skip to the climax. The end of the film (which I'm about to completely destroy you), seems at first to be the typical happy ending, promising book deals for all and happy smiles among friends and family. Yet the piece I absolutely could not ignore, even as Meryl Streep's smiling face drew the film to a close, was the heartbreaking moment shared just moments before by Julie Powell and her husband Eric. In then end, Julie's blogging endeavor leads to an infinite slew of book deals finally giving life to her broken dreams of being a writer. But amidst these happy and predictable messages lies a single phone call that brings together our two characters. The message is one of distain for our hopeful writer; Julia Child has nothing but sour thoughts for her delightful homage to the infamous name. In fact, Julie Powell never receives recognition from her idol, never meets her and only has those few comments through a faceless voice to understand Julia's thoughts on her endeavor. Instead success, according to the film, is purely economic, stressing the joys of financial payout for hard work. As much as this thought begins to spoil the uplifting and message of our two female characters, it is the words of Julie Powell's husband Eric that destroy my own picture of our deluded happy tale. In an effort to comfort his dejected wife, Eric stresses the importance of Julie's own picture of Julia Child in her mind. The woman she related to for the last year of her life, as envisioned through her recipes, was in fact the more important role. But what does this mean for our own vision of Julia Child? What we've been watching is an unbelievably positive portrayal of the famous chef for the last two hours! How do we as an audience member thus come to understand our own happy vision versus that unseen reaction to Julie's work? Julie Powell's relationship to Julia Child is one of fantasy, contrived through her own effort to generate hope amidst moments of self-pity. Is film's parallel version of Julia subject to the same criticism? Can we really believe that these two "unbelievable" stories are in fact "based on a true story?" I guess as a viewer I saw this moment as a huge red flag, calling attention to the fact that our conceptions of reality are entirely skewed by our own hope. Yikes. Who knew that despite the happy smiles of my pliable fellow audience members, the film in fact leaves me with the taste of gelled meat in my mouth. It is not an uplifting tale of two strong women, searching for dreams, rather a depressing look at the pathetic filter hope creates as it skews the vision of dreamers in our modern world.

I wish I had more to contemplate about this film, but it seems to have destroyed my dreams.