The International

The Movie Itself is directed by Tom Tykwer (Heaven, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Run Lola Run)

The film tells the story of a hard boiled Interpol Agent, Louis Salinger (Clive Owen) who is desperately trying to build a case against a villainous financial institution with the help of Manhattan Assistant District Attorney, Eleanor Whitman (Naomi Watts). Much to the dismay of our protagonists, the banks far-reaching influence and political connections allow them to thwart virtually any and all attempts at exposing them and bringing them to justice.

While the premise of the film sounded great to me on paper, the end result left me with mixed emotions. The photography, direction, score and performances are all great, and the action throughout is exciting — although it is in far shorter supply than the trailer would lead you to believe — but the film falls short of greatness. Where does the film falter, you ask? The story itself — there’s just not enough going on.

It’s not that The International is terribly confusing or convoluted, instead it’s as if the film’s thin narrative material collapses underneath the weight of the films grandiose architecture. In other words, we are led to believe that there is so much going on around us, a deeply entrenched evil force and an expansive conspiratorial web, and yet the threat never feels entirely real, or tangible. The end result of the illusory villain is that we don’t feel like there’s much to lose, and beyond that, we’re not sure exactly what’s at stake or if it even matters whether or not the heroes succeed. While I’m assuming this was the intent of the writer, to paint a picture of a cruel world, guided by an impenetrable network of greed and power, I feel like this is accomplished at the expense of making a genuinely exciting, and engaging film, and even still, I didn’t think the execution was all that great either. For example, I found the hit men in Michael Clayton to be far more menacing, and deadly than all of the banks henchmen, and I thought the conspiracy throughout that film unfolded in a much better fashion. Here, it’s excessively cerebral for no good reason, and altogether uninspired.

Fortunately, under the direction of Tom Tykwer and the cinematographic prowess of Frank Griebe, The International maintains a pleasing narrative flow from start to finish, and is chock full of immaculate shots that highlight and accentuate the various structures/vehicles/people that grace the film frame. Additionally, the performances from the entire cast are pitch perfect and at the same time, somewhat forgettable if only because they don’t leave a lasting impression on the viewer — Owen and Watts have both had better roles in the past. This was perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the film for me, and I find the script entirely responsible. If the two were given a bit more depth and range, they might have been able to explore the characters and we would have grown to see them as people instead of pawns moving in response to the on screen action. Tkywer has a real talent for invoking and creating an emotional connection within minutes (see his short film in Paris, Je T’aime) so I’m letting him off the hook here. I think he directed the story to the best of his ability and I believe the actors did their best, but still, it wasn’t enough to elevate this film beyond mediocrity — a tragic fate considering the outstanding photography.

In the end, The International bares a couple Tkywer signatures, but lacks the intense emotional core and kineticism that he’s known for. Considering this is his follow up to Perfume — a film that is so incredibly lush, bold and exciting — I was very disappointed to say the least. I can only hope that in the future Tkywer takes a step back and focuses his lens on a more personal story, after all that is what he does best.

Assault on Precinct 13 [1976]

The Movie Itself is directed by John Carpenter (”Halloween“, “The Thing“, “Starman“).

On his first night out as a newly appointed Highway Patrolman, Ethan Bishop (Austin Stoker) is tasked with watching over a soon-to-be-relocated Police Station, a task that would be — under most circumstances — an easy job. Unfortunately for him, and the employees of the station, their choice to play host and guardian to a speechless, frightened man makes all of them targets of a vicious gang, Street Thunder. Outnumbered and outgunned, their best hope for survival is to seek the help of the death row inmates currently residing in their holding cells.

Two years before John Carpenter introduced everyone to “The Shape” — aka Michael Myers — he shocked audiences with a raw, and aggressively exciting film, entitled Assault on Precinct 13. The film established and capitalizes on some of Carpenter’s strongest talents as a director — weaving a thoroughly engaging, relatable tale set within an isolated physical space — and it represents Carpenter at his finest, and most basic.

The film is a convincing and engaging survival story that maintains a suspenseful air throughout, and like Halloween, it remains just as effective and exciting today as it did years ago. Sure, the dialog exchanges can be a little hokey at times but it’s Carpenter through and through, and frankly I wouldn’t have it any other way. Contributing to the thriller aspect, the violence depicted in the film is frightening at times and feels very realistic. Take for example, the ice cream truck scene. It is one of the more memorable and cold-hearted scenes in the film, or any film for that matter. It is that way because there is no rhyme or reason behind the gang’s murderous actions, they simply want to incite fear and avenge their fallen friends. It’s this chaotic, loose motive that makes them such a formidable foe — they don’t care who they hurt and they don’t fear death. In this way you can draw a lot of parallels between Michael Myers and the gang depicted in this film. They are tireless, crafty, ruthless and altogether enigmatic. The characters that are targeted by each force aren’t sure why they’re marked for death, they just know they’re going to have to fight for their lives.

Whether you’re a Carpenter fan or not, you should add this film to your list of classic, must-see movies. It is one of the more unique suspense thrillers to have come out of the 70’s or any other decade, and it’s also one of Carpenter’s finest films. I can’t recommend it enough.

Starman

The Movie Itself is directed by John Carpenter (Halloween, The Thing, Assault on Precinct 13)

Responding to the open invitation via the Voyager 2 space probe, a lone alien travels across space to study and experience Earth. However, upon entering our atmosphere, his craft is seen as a threat and is fired upon. Crashing into a remote area of Wisconsin, hundreds of miles off course, he assumes the identity of a widow’s deceased husband, and urges the confused and frightened woman to aid him in his journey to safety. Along the way, the strained relationship between the two of them slowly evolves into one of understanding, mutual curiosity and compassion. Unfortunately for both of them, their time together is ticking down. With law enforcement nipping at their heels, and an expiration date on the alien’s earthly body there’s precious little time to get to the starman back home before it’s too late.

In the pantheon of exceptional science fiction films, Starman barely makes the cut, but that doesn’t mean its not a great movie. It may not be as visually stunning as its bretheren, nor as heartfelt as some, but there is an undeniable charm and uniqueness that emanates from John Carpenter’s sci-fi love story. I hardly think that it’s a coincidence that John Carpenter’s followup to The Thing would sport a more mainstream and lovable alien narrative. After all, the 1982 remake/masterpiece The Thing was steamrolled by Spielberg’s blockbuster, E.T., upon release so it seems fitting that Carpenter would change up his game and try his hand at an alien love story.

To Carpenter’s credit, the film is bares little resemblance to Spielberg’s film, which is a good thing. Had it been too closely related, it would have been seen as a cheap knockoff. Instead, it weaves an entirely different story about love and benevolent extraterrestrial life. In truth though, this was ground that was covered by Tarkovsky’s Solaris — specifically, an alien reanimation/clone of a loved of that brings comforts to a widow — but Starman does so in a different context, and in a wholly John Carpenter fashion.

Starman may well be Carpenter’s most mainstream and decidedly accessible film in his cannon of work, but it is far from his most commercially viable — that credit goes to Halloween. Nonetheless, all of the usual Carpenter quirks are there, from the bizarre sound effects, to the simple, effective and memorable score — composed by Carpenter of course — all the way to his independent cinematographic styling.

While it’s been nearly twenty-five years since its initial release, the film still remains as a refreshing alternative to the in-your-face sci-fi of today, and the perfect supplement to the cheery, warm-and-fuzzy alien films of yesteryear. If you’re a Carpenter fan, you owe it to yourself to give this one a look.

The Ninth Gate

The Movie Itself is directed by Roman Polanski (The Pianist, Rosemary’s Baby).

Dean Corso (Johnny Depp), a scandalous, rare book dealer is hired by Boris Balkan (Frank Langella) — an authority on demonic literature — to locate, evaluate and obtain the surviving copies of an ancient demonic text, entitled “The Nine Gates of the Shadow Kingdom.” Balkan maintains that the book has the power to summon the devil, but fears his book is a forgery and therefore Corso must determine which of the remaining copies are authentic, if any are at all. While the assignment proves to be far more perilous and difficult than he could have ever imagined, he remains fascinated by the mystery behind the texts, and will ultimately stop at nothing to unravel the secrets within the book’s illustrations.

I’m hesitant to admit that I had not seen a single Polanski film until the summer of 2005. In my defense, I don’t think that’s half as shocking as say, not seeing a Kubrick/Spielberg/Coppola film, but still I feel a bit ashamed that it took me as long as it did to see one. At any rate, my introduction to Polanski was Rosemary’s Baby, and it freaked me out big time. From the opening moments of the film, I was hypnotized. He knew precisely how to get the film crawling around inside of you, under your skin, in your brain. This is the mark of the most talented film directors, whether or not they can achieve that level of infiltration, and whether or not they can do it with ease and in a timely manner.

It’s been some time since I was first introduced to Polanski, and when it came time to review The Ninth Gate, I was a little wary. I’ve never heard anyone gush about the film, at least not like people do for The Pianist or Rosemary’s Baby. In fact, I can remember when the film was released in theaters — alongside other pre-2000 horror flicks — very few critics had anything constructive to say about it.

Well, as hypocritical as this may sound, I should have never listened to the critics. I should have gone with my gut instinct — enticed by the concept and theatrical trailers — and seen the movie. Alas, it would be ten years before I finally got around to seeing it, and what a great slow-burn thriller it is.

It might not be a “scary” movie, but it oozes dreadful, foreboding ambiance through the extraordinary score and the frightful situations that Corso finds himself in. The film is also very cerebral, as you might expect from a thriller that features a book dealer as the story’s protagonist, and where I can see many people rolling their eyes or yawning at the film’s lead character, I find the unusual protagonist choice to be both refreshing and ballsy. Surely, the film isn’t for everyone, and I’ve no doubt that’s why it was largely panned when first released, but I feel like this is the type of film that will only get better with age. Even now, ten years after its initial release, it holds up remarkably well and I can only imagine that it might age as gracefully as some of the rare books in Corso’s private collection.

If you haven’t seen the film yet and you’ve been looking for a reason to check it out, I can think of no better reason to do so. The film might not look as good as it could here on Blu-ray (see VQ below) but it boasts an excellent audio track and the story is nothing if not original and wholly intriguing.

Pushing Daisies: The Complete Second Season

The Show Itself is created by Bryan Fuller.

In case you didn’t know already…

Ned has an incredible ability — he can reanimate dead things. However, the gift is bittersweet because if he happens to touch the reanimate once again, it goes back to being dead… forever. Worse still, if he reanimates something for longer than a minute, it stays alive, but something else nearby dies. Lonely and afraid of his power, Ned finds comfort in baking pies — after all he can take dead fruit and freshen it up, right? — and opens his own restaurant. It isn’t long after that a Private Investigator learns about Ned’s surreal ability and convinces Ned to work with him to solve murder mysteries, and subsequently share the cash reward. All is well and good until Ned is confronted with the corpse of his long-lost childhood love, and first kiss. Unable to bring himself to put her back to rest, he keeps her alive, and thus sets into motion the most complicated and perilous relationship that’s ever been. Together, they’ll have to work to keep her reanimation quiet — lest Ned’s secret gets out — and solve a slew of murders along the way.

And now for Season 2…

The second and final season of ABC’s Pushing Daisies is every bit as good as the first and then some. Where the first season was nearly sliced in half due to the writers strike — and a bit too formulaic for my taste — the second got more screen time (13 episodes instead of 9) to explore the characters and their respective pasts, presents and futures. Also, since much of the narrative staging and groundwork was laid in the first season, the second needed only to focus on tying up loose ends and bringing the show to a satisfactory and complete close — which could not have been an easy task.

While many people were angered, distressed, depressed and downright confused when Pushing Daisies was canceled, I honestly don’t think the show needed or even warranted another season. I don’t mean to sound callous, I just happen to think that the show would have been stretched thin if it had gone on much longer. If anything, I think that the show would have benefited greatly from an even longer episode order, perhaps to the tune of twenty episodes or more for the second season. The reason being is that this season — while exceptional, and better than the first — is far from complete as it is now. The front half is perfectly paced and deep — prior to cancellation — and the second half is a bit haphazard, rushed and incomplete.

Again, to the credit of the creative team behind the show, it was an impossible task to tie off every narrative thread within the available time frame, and I think they did the absolute best they could given the circumstances. Still though, I was left wanting more. Some surprise characters — which I’ll refrain from mentioning — appear, never to be mentioned again, and the ultimate resolution/conclusion comes and goes without much ado, but barring all of these minor complaints I still couldn’t help but feel like the show ended on a perfect note even if there were more than a few plot holes that need filling in.

And as far as filling is concerned, there’s been talk about a Pushing Daisies comic that’s primed to satisfy the appetites of fans everywhere, and give the concept a fresh and boundless canvas to weave its morbidly delectable story. With any luck, the comic might actually attract a slew of new fans while also providing ample closure to the myriad of storylines floating around within the Pushing Daisies universe.

In the end, it’s terribly sad to lose such an inventive, original and entertaining show while other inferior, mindless crap pollutes the airwaves, but I also feel that it was the right choice, just not the right time. If only the show had been gifted with a couple more episodes, perhaps there wouldn’t be a need for a comic, or a movie or some other narrative extension, maybe the story could have been fully fleshed out and absolute. But there’s no sense in worrying about things we can’t change. The second season of Pushing Daisies might be missing a few ingredients, but its every bit as enjoyable and entertaining as I had hoped it might be and I’m extremely grateful — as all Pushing Daisies fans should be — that it was finished at all.

Henry Poole Is Here

The Movie Itself is directed by Mark Pellington (The Mothman Prophecies, Arlington Road).

Henry Poole has all but subscribed to the past tense. After discovering that he has little time to live, he retreats to a quiet, unfurnished home in California to spend his remaining days in fear of a definite, but uncertain departure. However, fate has something else in store for Henry. His days of isolation and self loathing are cut short by curious neighbors that wish to welcome him to the community, and the appearance of a Christ-like façade on the side of his house attracts far more attention than he would like. Slowly but surely, Henry warms up to his new neighbors and friends, and manages to find a ray of hope in the face of his grim diagnosis.

It’s been many years since Mark Pellington has revisited to the art of feature filmmaking. His last directorial effort, The Mothman Prophecies, was — in my opinion — an outstanding horror/thriller film, and an exceptional visual treat, but it’s been a difficult road for him to get back in the game. After losing his wife, Jennifer Barrett-Pellington, who died abruptly in 2004, Pellington was overcome with grief and ultimately turned to alcohol, hoping to find comfort in feeling nothing. Soon enough — as he admits in the commentary found on this disc — his vice gave way to alcoholism.

Thankfully, Mark Pellington’s story has a good ending. Although his journey was a trying and painful one, he has been sober for two years, and he’s emerged hopeful and eager to take up narrative filmmaking once more. This time however, he wanted to do something different, to tell a story that wasn’t as dark, dreary or menacing as his previous films. He yearned to take on a film that was uplifting and genuinely moving, and perhaps one that reflected some of the things he had gone through. The answer was Albert Torres’ script, Stain, which would ultimately become the film we know, Henry Poole Is Here.

As you might imagine, there is an incredible amount of personal investment and attachment between Pellington and the subject matter at hand, and its this connection that allows the film to shine incredibly bright. Unlike much of the manufactured drama/romance that populates the Hollywood circuit, there is a genuine heart behind the film, and the love that courses throughout emanates from every possible outlet, whether it be the actors’ eyes, the dialog, or the tender, fluid motion of the shots that compose the film. In a way, its overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Moreover, watching the film is akin to being in reunited with dozens of old family members or friends all at once. You’re reminded just how wonderful life can be, and the horrors of the world simply melt away.

However, it’s important to know that the film isn’t all smiles either. Henry is jaded, defeated and bitter, but its his transformation and journey towards becoming hopeful that ultimately makes the film so powerful and endearing.

In a word, the film is therapeutic, and if I had to liken it to another film, I’d say that Garden State most closely resembles it thematically, and emotionally. I’m not sure whether or not other people would agree with that, but for me they are very closely related because of their comforting, and relatable stories.

In the end, even the most brazen cynic should come away from this film feeling the slightest bit elated because it’s not a film about religion or faith, it’s a film about hope; something that is hardwired within us, but often overshadowed by the grim realities of our world. Henry Poole Is Here stirred me in a way that few movies ever do. It served as yet another reminder that life is a truly remarkable gift, and regardless of your religious/spiritual disposition — or lack thereof — I’d wager that few people would argue against that. Granted, it might not be the same experience for everyone, but for those of you that are in need of a sincerely uplifting film, you need not look further than this one.

Baraka

The Movie Itself is directed and lensed by Ron Fricke.
ba⋅ra⋅ka : bəˈrɑkə/ [buh-rah-kuh]
–noun Islam.
a spiritual power believed to be possessed by certain persons, objects, tombs, etc.
Origin: Ar barakah; cf. Heb bərākhāh blessing

A blessing. The breath of life. Raw spiritual power. All of these definitions can be found to describe the word Baraka, a word that perfectly encapsulates this breathtaking cinematic journey into the human spirit, showcasing both the divine connections between us, as well as our effect on the planet at large — for better or worse.

Ron Fricke’s masterpiece is the quintessential documentary/travelogue that captures our planet’s raw, unique beauty, while providing us with a unique perspective of human life via mind-blowing moving portraits of ritualistic practices around the world, ranging from funeral pyres to monotonous morning commutes. His vision is uncompromised, and unfailing — an unparalleled visual experiment that is unmatched in every sense. Devoid of dialog or narration, the film is purely cinematic; universally understood, and applicable because it relies on imagery alone to tell its story. Some might be deterred by that fact, but I can’t imagine the film any other way. Simply put, you’ve never seen a film quite like this one. It is meditative, hypnotic, emotionally charged, breathtaking and engaging all at once.

And as bold as it may sound, I’ve never seen a more beautiful film than Baraka. Every single image — whether static, moving or time-lapse — is expertly composed and teeming with grace, artistry and meaning. It’s as if the film is a love letter addressed to the inhabitants of earth, from an alien planet. The perspective is so unique, incisive and removed that it’s hard to imagine a human could have lensed such a magnificent piece of art. It deftly summarizes the human race and our collective effect on our surroundings, on history and ourselves.

I simply can’t recommend this film enough. It is easily one of the most profound and touching films/documentaries I have ever had the pleasure of viewing. And while I can go on and on about how fantastic it is, in the end, words are at a loss to describe how beautiful and surreal the viewing experience is. Baraka is an unforgettable emotional journey across the world, that instills hope, and awe, allowing us to see life’s wondrous gifts, and yet it also tells a cautionary tale of planetary disharmony through images of death, destruction and poverty. In the end though, as the film’s credits began to roll, I felt a swell of hope, awe and respect for all life on this planet come over me, and I even felt more connected to the world around me, as hokey as that may sound.

Where The Godfather is my favorite fictional film, Baraka is my new favorite non-fiction film. Both are timeless classics, and prime examples of filmmaking excellence, but Baraka in particular is an experience all its own. I don’t think the film will ever find itself as universally accepted as it is constructed, but I imagine that it will only continue to amass fans, garner more praise, and become more and more significant as time rolls on as the boundaries between cultures inevitably overlap and ultimately dissolve.