Movies

Emergent systems fascinate me. Systems comprised of a number of simpler parts acting together often develop more complex behaviours as a collective than they would by themselves. In simple terms, these systems are more than the sum of their parts.

After watching Darren Aronofsky’s long-awaited The Fountain, I couldn’t help but think that it is less than the sum of its parts. If you break the film down into its various pieces, you’ll find some technically impressive work. Almost every aspect of this film is done incredibly well. Yet somehow, when you add it all up, something is missing. It’s one of the most visually stunning films I’ve seen in years, and all the technical aspects of that (cinematography, photography, special effects (which were not CGI) etc…) are exceptionally well done. I was seriously slack-jawed at the visual compositions for much of the movie (the same way I am when I watch 2001: A Space Odyssey – a film that The Fountain owes a great debt to). In short, it’s an absolutely gorgeous film (watch the trailer for a taste – interestingly, the trailer is almost a microcosm of the film itself – it’s also gorgeous, but I can’t imagine most people being swayed by anything by the visuals). The music was fantastic. The acting was great. The story was rather simplistic, but it’s not like a traditonal love story can’t be interesting. Ultimately, it’s probably the story and the characterization that is at fault here, though I’m not really sure why. Spoilers ahead, for those who care…

The story’s science fiction elements have been played up in the marketing, which stresses the three major time periods in which the film takes place (1500 A.D., 2000 A.D., and 2500 A.D.) and asks “What if you could live forever?” But the film’s primary focus is on the contemporary setting, where Tommy Creo (Hugh Jackman) is a scientist working to find a way to treat his wife, Izzie (Rachel Weisz), who has an inoperable brain tumor. Izzy, it turns out, is writing a novel about a Spanish Queen (also played by Weisz) who sends a Conquistador (also played by Jackman) on a quest to find the Fountain of Youth. And the future plot thread shows a bald man (also Jackman) travelling through space in a neat looking orb (his only passenger being a neat looking tree). It’s unclear if the futuristic portion of the film is a continuation of Izzie’s novel, or if it is really happening. In any case, both the past and future portions of the film exist to emphasise what happens in the contemporary portion of the film. There are obvious parallels in each of the narratives.

There’s a lot to chew on here, which is part of why my feelings are mixed. On the one hand, the film displays such a rich and ambitious vision that’s difficult to deny. On the other hand, the rampant symbolism and split narrative structure seems to distract from the story rather than enhance it. In an interview, Aronofsky described the story thusly:

I think it’s a really simple love story at the core. It’s really about a man and a woman in love. One of them is going away and the other one’s not coming to terms with it. Eventually he does come to terms with it. There’s sort of a big anti-thinking, anti-intellectual message in the film even though it’s kind of told in a very different way that you think it makes you think. It’s really very simple the film and that’s why I kind of messed with the structure, taking a very simple idea but then encasing it in a puzzle structure that makes people think about how it all fits together and talk about how it fits together. But at the core it’s a very simple emotional story I think.

I think perhaps he got a bit carried away messing with the structure, as I found myself more interested in decoding the visual language of the film than the actual characters in the film. There are some moments of levity in which you see the love these characters have for one another and there are some interesting dynamics to their relationship, but these details aren’t fleshed out very much. Maybe because of that, I didn’t really connect on an emotional level (though there are instances in which I do, they are ultimately fleeting). I could recognize the emotion on an intellectual level, but I wasn’t able to fully lose myself in the story.

This movie is certainly not for everyone. Lots of people will see it as a pretentious art film filled with pompous, but beautiful, imagery (I think even the films detractors recognize Aronofsky’s visual flare). Some will note that they didn’t want to see Hugh Jackman cry for an hour and a half. However, I’m willing to bet that it will make lots of critics’ best of the year lists, and despite my objections, I’m not sure they’re wrong to include it. The film snob in me acknowledges the technical brilliance of the film, but the populist in me simply doesn’t buy it. Symbolism, visual density, ambition, and ambiguity are good things, and they’re all evident in this film, but it’s possible to go overboard and you need something more than just those things. I feel like something is definitely missing. Maybe after repeated viewings, I won’t feel that way. There are a lot of visuals to parse in the film, moreso than in others, but I’m not sure that will be enough.

This is Aronofsky’s third feature film and even though I don’t think The Fountain is as much of a success as his first two films, my opinion of him hasn’t changed much. I’m still looking forward to whatever he makes next, and I’m confident that it will be worth seeing. If I were to consider it a strike, it would be a foul ball – one that narrowly missed the pole in left field too (so close that I had trouble seeing it at first). He definitely made solid contact, but something was just a little off. Otherwise, it would have been out of the park. (**1/2)

I mentioned a few weeks ago that Filmspotting (a great movie themed podcast) was going to do an Animation Marathon where they viewed six important animation films that they have not yet seen (see my original post for the full list of movies and my initial thoughts). (I meant to post this around the same time Filmspotting posted their review (the review doesn’t start until about 1 hour into that episode), but the holiday complicated matters a bit, so this is actually a few days after their review.)

The first film in the marathon was Watership Down, an adaptation of the novel by Richard Adams. With a glance at the plot summary, this looks to be a little like a typical Disney animated feature. It’s the cute & cuddly bunnies who play the protagonists that gave me that feeling, but it didn’t take long for the film to eschew normal Disney traditions. Indeed, it starts by recounting the rabbits’ mythology, which is unconventional not only because of it’s animation style, but also because of its rather violent nature. The mythology tells the story of how the rabbits came to be and how they came to be hunted, and it concludes with this memorable quote:

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and when ever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you: digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning, full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.

This prologue actually captures the feel of mythology while still relating it to rabbits, which is an interesting feat. By the end of the film, it’s pretty clear that it isn’t meant for young children (though there is perhaps a separate discussion to be had about that).

As I already mentioned, the story follows a band of rabbits. At the start of the story, a bunny has a rather disturbing vision of the future (which basically shows humans developing the land thus killing many rabbits), so a bunch of bunnies resolve to avoid that fate and set off on a quest to build a new warren. But the world is a dangerous place, and they encounter many challenges along the way. It sounds pretty simple, but it ends up being somewhat complex. There are obvious correllations between the rabbits and human beings, and some vague social/political themes can be seen in the story (especially with respect to fascism). The other major theme seems to be dealing with death (both avoiding it and accepting it).

The thing that was really shocking, though, was the violence. It’s hard to describe, because we’re so used to the typical Disney way, where violence is only really hinted at or dealt with tangentially. Watership Down faces the violence of the animal kingdom head on and it doesn’t flinch. It gets vicious and bloody, which is certainly something you don’t normally see in animated films featuring fluffy bunnies and which can be a little unsettling if you’re not prepared for it.

Not your typical Disney movie

The animation is a bit simplistic, but well done and better than most animation I’ve seen from the era (which is probably not that much, but still). The voices are comprised of mostly British actors, and they do a well enough job (though, as they mentioned on Filmspotting, there is something a bit odd about it). All in all, they do a good job visually, though it’s nothing truly breathtaking.

There are many people who seem to be profoundly affected by this movie. Personally, I don’t think it reached that level. While I did enjoy it and I could recognize it’s many admirable traits, I wasn’t tremendously moved by the story either. In the end, I think it actually kicks off the marathon on a good note, as it has a style all its own (i.e. not like Disney and not quite like Anime either). The next film in the marathon will be Grave of the Fireflies, a 1988 Anime film. I’m going to try to watch that in the next few days and get my review up by Wednesday.

I’ve actually seen quite a few movies recently that I’d like to post about, including the new Bond flick (which was great) and Darren Aronofsky’s much-anticipated The Fountain (which was a visually stunning and intriguing… failure? My thoughts are mixed.) Look for at least one other post this week in addition to the animation review and the regular Sunday entry. [a hat tip must go to Catherine, as I lifted the above screenshots from her post]

Halloween is upon us once again, and since this is one of the few holidays in which I write something that is somewhat timely, I figure I should continue the tradition (and this year, I’ll actually publish the post before Halloween). A few horror movies I’ve had the pleasure to view recently:

• The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974): I’d seen this once before, a long time ago, and was pretty well creeped out by it. About as pure an exercise in horror as is possible in a movie. As such, there are some who feel it lacks real purpose (and thus that it is a waste of talent), but it is so well executed that I can’t help but love it and it didn’t really lose any impact upon my second viewing this past weekend. It’s got that gritty 70s horror feel, and you can almost feel the sweaty, grungy Texas setting. Speaking of which, it’s interesting to note that what makes this movie so creepy is not just the freaky chainsaw-wielding maniac, it’s that there really isn’t anywhere to go. Unlike a lot of horror movies, there really isn’t anywhere safe to run. And when our heroine is cornered and you think to yourself “Just jump out of the window, you moron,” she actually proceeds to jump out the window. Of course, that only buys her a minute or so, but it’s still a refreshing difference. It’s obviously a low budget film, but it doesn’t detract at all from the experience (and I think it contributes a little to the atmosphere too). It unfolds in a surprisingly realistic way, and that is part of why it is so effective. There’s a ton more that could be said about this, but if you’ve never found yourself on the business end of a chainsaw or a meat hook, and you don’t mind that it doesn’t really seek to do anything deeper than creeping you out, it’s worth watching. ***1/2
• Re-Animator (1985): In the 1980s, we started to see the emergence of horror films that were aware of how ridiculous they were, and even embracing the cheesyness in a humorous way. These films were less scary than they were funny, and Re-Animator is one of the better examples of this. It’s a ton of fun, and it has taken on an added dimension of humor recently as one of the characters bears a striking resemblance to John Kerry. Heh. It’s silly, it knows it’s silly, and it’s a lot of fun. **1/2
• Cabin Fever (2002): In a lot of ways, this movie starts off similar to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. There’s an element of realism in the setup, and the setting is a similar sort of desolate, helpless area. Alas, the tendency to wink at the audience and descend into gory meyhem gets the better of writer/director Eli Roth (who also made this year’s squirm-inducing Hostel) and the movie becomes unhinged about halfway through. However, the ending (last 10-20 minutes or so) manages to transcend the cheesy gore as Roth somehow orchestrates a series of simultaneously idiotic and yet brilliant sequences. This ending kicks off with a car crashing into a deer, moves on to a harmonica… incident, has a nice shootout, and then goes into hyperdrive when Roth makes a joke involving a racist shopkeep and a rifle. Oh, and I almost forgot about the lemonade. It’s completely ludicrous.

  It reminded me of the ending of Mario Bava’s Bay of Blood, a film notable mostly for it’s inventive death sequences (many of which were lifted by Friday the 13th Part 2) and its totally unexpected and absurd ending involving two kids and a shotgun. Roth manages to capture this feeling several times as his film winds down, and that’s actually pretty cool. In the end, it’s not the greatest horror film out there, but if you don’t mind movies that start realistically and then take the premise over the top as the film goes on, it might be worth checking out. **1/2

Interesting stuff. For those interested, here are a few older Kaedrin Halloween themed posts and some other Horror movie related posts:

• Save it with the music: Wherein I discuss the role of music in horror films.
• Horror: Wherein I blather on and on about more obscure horror films and novels.
• Friday the 13th: Wherein Weasello hilariously reviews all of the movies in the Friday the 13th movie series.
• The Biology of B-Movie Monsters: Wherein someone takes B-Movies way too seriously. Still interesting though.

Well, that’s all for now. Happy Halloween!

I’m not one for reality television, but a few years ago, I got hooked on the third season of Project Greenlight (as usual with TV shows I like, it was cancelled after the third season). For those not familiar with the show, it was started by Matt Damon and Ben Affleck; they wanted to give amateurs the chance to get a real hollywood production. Every year, they solicited scripts and directors and allowed anyone to enter.

Of course, the success of the series is up for debate. As the Onion A.V. Club notes:

The failures of the Project Greenlight experiment—first Stolen Summer, then The Battle Of Shaker Heights, and now Feast—have been pinned largely on the novice contest winners who were in over their head. And while that’s not entirely unfair, given the banality of the scripts and mostly feckless direction, a more substantial chunk of the blame should fall on the producers who set them up for failure. From the start, they’ve backed conventional Hollywood projects at miniscule budgets, and then diluted the material further by constantly second-guessing the filmmakers. In the end, the films look like the cheaply stitched gowns fashioned during week one of Project Runway, all mangled hemlines and unflattering proportions.

I haven’t seen the first two seasons, but I have seen The Battle of Shaker Heights, and I can see why it wouldn’t be considered a success (though it wasn’t that bad either). In any case, I enjoyed season three greatly, mostly because they chose a lunatic to direct the film, called Feast. Without the nutcase, it would have been interesting to get a behind the scenes look at how a relatively low-budget hollywood film is produced. But director John Gulager has a special kind of crazy that’s just a blast to watch. It’s amazing that a movie got made at all…

Unless, of course, you talk to James Berardinelli, who gave the film zero stars:

Zero-star movies are a rare and terrifying breed – films that warrant recommendation only as an alternative to physical distress. Sitting in a theater as one of these examples of cinematic diarrhea unspools creates a curious tug-of-war within the viewer. On one hand, there’s an almost overwhelming desire to flee from the auditorium, to get away as far and as fast as is humanly possible. On the other hand, there’s a compulsion to stay – the result of a sick fascination to see if the production can possibly get worse.

Ouch. Most reviews give the film a little more credit than that, but I doubt the film is all that good. Still, I’d like to see it, if only to see the end result of crazy John Gulager’s efforts (plus, I’m a fan of bad horror flicks). Apparently the film only had two showings this past weekend, one at midnight on Friday and one at midnight on Saturday, so I’ll have to check it out on DVD… though honestly, I think I’d rather watch the show again.

In fact, the film Snakes on a Train actually came out three days before Snakes on a Plane. That’s right, the knockoffs started before the film came out. Naturally it’s straight to DVD, and by all accounts, it’s a pretty bad film, but I have to admit that I’m intrigued by this tidbit from Wikipedia:

The film features former WWF wrestler “The Iron Sheik”, in a major role, although he appears under the pseudonym Ronald “Bubba” Sparks.

Score. I don’t know about you, but I’m still holding out for Ostriches on a Hovercraft.