This infamous collaboration between Herzog and David Lynch is a bit reminiscent of Steven Soderbergh’s Full Frontal and Lynch’s own INLAND EMPIRE. Both involve masters of their craft running wild with video technology, seemingly shooting whatever comes to mind in locations they just happened to have access to. It makes for a rather tangential experience in this case, but nonetheless highly surreal and entertaining.
My Son, My Son plays around with Greek tragedy and cop procedural, kind of, and Herzog has everyone acting in a theatrical style not far off from the hypnosis acting from Heart of Glass. But despite merely an executive producer credit, Lynch’s handiwork can be felt almost as much as Herzog’s. Their styles blend together, the film keeps getting stranger, and Brad Dourif eventually shows up to be awesome.
This is an easy film to dismiss as a nonsensical experiment, and it’s certainly not one of Herzog’s grandest achievements, but sequences in the mountains of Peru, a time tunnel in Montreal, and a park in San Diego where time almost stops make this far more intriguing than most traditional films of any given year.
My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done is currently playing this week in Minneapolis at St. Anthony Main.
Well, here’s a nice throwback to the indie films of old, when they weren’t so much telling new stories but re-telling old, worn stories in interesting, quiet ways that didn’t rely solely on quirky comedy.
From the moment he appeared in Torque wearing a Sam & Twitch t-shirt, Adam Scott has been one of my favorite actors. Still, outside of the hilarious Party Down series (and I guess maybe The Killer Next Door?), he’s never been a frontrunner until now. And holy hell, what a revelation.
The character of Caleb Sinclaire is fascinating, starting off as a wisecracking neurotic (which Scott does best) until in one surprisingly brutal sequence, he transforms into a very deep emotional wreck. As stated before, the story is nothing new: daddy issues, brothers kind of fighting over the same girl, relationships, family, blah blah blah. But Scott’s performance and some beautiful cinematography reminiscent of early David Gordon Green help elevate the material to one of the better small American films in recent memory.
I don’t normally pay too much attention to the short film medium, but this is too spectacular to pass by. Gorgeous and atmospheric, Adrien Merigeau’s animated tale follows a young wolf returning home after fleeing years earlier to confront his father. This is how you put a new spin on old tired ideas, folks.
Four Favorite New Films in three weeks? Either 2010’s off to a great start for film, or I’ve been very generous lately. Probably both, since I still feel bad about never writing one of these for Princess & the Frog. Seriously people, that film was fantastic.
Anyway. Bronson. It’s actually been months since I saw the film, so I can’t give much in the way of thorough criticism (when do I ever?). But the film has one of the best performances of last year (this is technically a 2009 film) in the form of Tom Hardy, one of the best soundtracks of last year, and has an incredibly fun sense of humor and style, especially in the fight scenes. With this and the criminally under-seen Pusher trilogy, Nicolas Winding Refn has probably become the best European director you’ve never heard of . . . whose name isn’t Roy Andersson.
The film got screwed out of a nice American release, so your only chance to see it on the big screen in the Twin Cities is either tonight or tomorrow at midnight over at the Uptown Theatre.
A different kind of J-Rock Sunday today . . . Fish Story is actually a new Japanese film, and was named by the Japan Times as the best film of 2009. It’s a story that spans decades, beginning at 2012 when a comet’s about to destroy Earth and then spiraling back through the decades to show how rock & roll saves the day. This is the second film in the last year that’s had this plot device (see also: Takashi Miike’s God’s Puzzle), and I love how Japanese cinema consistently treats music as a unique and life-changing experience (see also: Linda Linda Linda and Eli Eli Lema Sabachthani?).
Fish Story is wonderfully offbeat and unpredictable, and I hope it gets picked up for American distribution. It probably won’t though, but the good news is that the torrent and subtitles are up for grabs online. Highly recommend, folks. Below is the 80s-style punk song that saves us all, and it’s awesome. Watch the movie trailer HERE. Fish Story
Going into the Book of Eli, I had no idea it’d turn out to be better than The Road. I just figured it would be a stereotypical goofy throwaway January release. But that’s what I love about this time of year – along with forgetfully bad works, there are great films that studios just had no idea what to do with.
While The Road relied too much on the novel’s words which failed to translate well, leaving it a normal everyday post-apocalyptic outing, Eli breaks out on its own by taking an enormously goofy concept and transforming it into a refreshing new take on what the post-apocalypse entails. It’s high concept without being too preachy – kind of a throwback to the genre’s heyday in the Logan’s Run/Omega Man era of the 70s.
Oh yeah, the restrained use of CG, beautifully long, wide shots, Gary Oldman, and Tom Waits . . . those help too.
DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t really deserve the ‘Favorite New Films’ title. I’m probably being a bit too kind. But everyone else kind of trashed the film and someone needed to stick up for it. Anyway, it’s fun.
I’ve never read the Youth in Revolt book, and I don’t usually like ‘teen’ films. However, I do occasionally enjoy somewhat subversive ‘teen’ films. I also enjoy Michael Cera. I enjoy Michael Cera playing around with his persona even more. And I enjoy Fred Willard. No, scratch that – I adore Fred Willard.
Youth in Revolt is a somewhat subversive ‘teen’ film with Michael Cera playing around with his persona and Fred Willard being Fred Willard. So there you go.
I can imagine how this probably got made. Some producers had the rights to the Bad Lieutenant name and figured they could make some easy money on that alone, but how they thought of Herzog is beyond me. Maybe one of them saw Aguirre in college, who knows. But since Herzog doesn’t have regular access to the budgets that can get him out into the cold, uncaring wilderness for features (only documentaries these days), he took what he could get and made the most of it.
Now, the trailer originally made it seem that this was going to be so-bad-it’s-good, much in the vein of Nicolas Cage’s Wicker Man remake. But seeing as though Herzog is the world’s greatest director, he knew exactly what he was doing from day one.
Bad Lieutenant spirals into inspired lunacy immediately and never lets up, filling itself to the brim of random tangents, hallucinatory iguanas, and possibly the best performance of the year from Cage, perfectly channeling his batshit-crazy 80s persona with a dash of Daniel Day Lewis-y limp walking. Every scene is a surprise as Herzog lays on his controlled madness layer by brilliant layer.
Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is not the best ‘bad’ movie of the year. It’s genuinely one of the greats. See it now in Minneapolis at the Lagoon Cinema. Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans – Scene
To be honest, when I first saw this film, I thought it was downright amazing and completely emotionally crushing. I couldn’t believe that I thought there was a better film this year than A Serious Man, but lo and behold, here it was. It may or may not have even brought a tear to my eye. Not that I can clearly remember, however, because right before the screening, I had ingested quite a large sum of scotch. Lots and lots of scotch. This presumably had a lot to do with my opinion then, because on second viewing, it is not exactly downright amazing and emotionally crushing and better than A Serious Man. But still, Up in the Air remains one damn great film.
Here’s where another, far more sober bias kicks in. I love the almost-otherworldly imagery of hotels and airports and parking lots and gaudy restaurants and car rental stations. Perhaps it has something to do with the concept of ‘endless transition’ in modern America, but the look of these sterile, always-the-same and always-comforting environments and the idea of someone thriving there has me hooked from the first moment. That said, the cinematography of this film is its major highpoint, making these places the most beautiful locations shot all year. Not to just make the praise a technical issue, I’m also fascinated with the philosophy of George Clooney’s character; how the places he encounters feel like home no matter where he might be, that fleeting connections turn out better than emotional baggage that comes with settling down, that all of this might just be enough.
Make no mistake, Up in the Air is the epitome of the modern American indie film, which of course is no longer indie at all. You get the indie music soundtrack, you get a single big name to sell the film on, you get a modest but still comfy budget, and you attempt to be emotionally ambiguous. Thing is, director Jason Reitman is pretty much the best at this right now. In both this and Thank You For Smoking, he took some rather unconventional ideas and made them ‘Hollywood’ by wearing the film’s themes right on their sleeves, but still managed to keep things ambiguous at the very end, never giving their characters the easy resolutions that other, lesser directors fall for.
Yes, some of it is heavy-handed, but us film geeks must understand that the majority of American viewing audiences need those themes put out in the open because artsy subtlety just doesn’t work a lot of the time. And I know that sounds like I’m condescending, but I really hold a lot against snobs like myself. I wish I wasn’t so damn cynical sometimes, because as I pointed out, when I lost that cynicism thanks to some delicious scotch, I thought this was the best damn movie in years. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Anyway, remarkable imagery, acting, and emotion, plus it’s got Zach Galifinanakis, Danny McBride, and Sam Elliot. Check it out at the Uptown Theatre right now, or when it goes wide on Christmas.
I didn’t expect to see a family film this year that seemed less accessible than Where the Wild Things Are, but lo and behold, here it is. Not that it can’t be enjoyed by kids – there’s more than enough here to keep anyone entertained, but Wes Anderson throws in so much of his trademark neurotic family issues that I can’t imagine any kid knowing what’s going on half the time. But hell, I grew up watching Rocky & Bullwinkle and not for one second did I ever comprehend that, so I don’t really count this as a problem.
It used to seem that Wes Anderson was the most exciting new American director, before it turned out that he was an obsessive-compulsive one-trick pony. Still, the style has its merits, and it’s rarely worked better than in this lean, whimsical animated tale where he has art directing control over every aspect of the visuals. And what visuals they are! Stop-motion has rarely looked this beautiful, and I can only hope that this and Coraline will jumpstart a revival of the overlooked artform.
Spike Jonze’s past films have left me cold, as the Charlie Kaufman screenplays he worked with always failed to leave much emotional resonance.
However, Where the Wild Things Are, in which Jonze steps in himself with co-writer Dave Eggers, is a remarkably sad and beautiful exploration of the loneliness and anxiety that comes with facing the world. There are no easy answers in this dark, complex family film, and I’m thrilled that there are kids out there that get to grow up with this bold achievement.
Japan has always dealt with family dynamics in cinema better than any other country, from the classic films of Ozu to Katsuhito Ishii’s recent classic Taste of Tea. Still Walking is the latest in this line, and director Hirokazu Kore-Eda makes it one of the best.
Kore-Eda is largely referred to in foreign film critic circles as Japan’s greatest director, and while I certainly don’t agree, the accusation does have some merit. He’s always dealt with heavy, complex issues with deceptively simple storytelling (the aftermath of tragedy in Distance being a particular highpoint), focusing impressively on long takes and small details.
Still Walking is no different, as it follows 24 hours of a family gathering for the 15th anniversary of an eldest son’s death. Generational problems emerge, regrets are forced to be faced, and no character’s emotional flaws are spared. It’s satisfying, slow-burn narrative works wonders thanks to practically flawless acting, especially Hiroshi Abe in his greatest performance yet.
Japanese cinema has been quite disappointing as of late, but it’s works from masters like this that keep my hope alive.
