Finally! Movie Stuff!

For a Cinewhore, this blog hasn't exactly been full of movie posts lately. Hopefully this does something to remedy that situation.

Let's start from an old one, shall we?

Comme une image (Look At Me)
Yes, I know Angeline didn't have good things to say about it, but that doesn't mean I didn't like it. In fact, I enjoyed it quite a bit. As they say, my meat, your poison. But I admit it's a movie where you have to work very hard to like, since none of the characters are particularly likeable in the first place. It doesn't help that the performances tend to go for the nuances and subtlety, making their spoken dialogue all the more empty, since they're never saying what their body language is expressing. To me, that's beautiful, and real, because how often, especially with people we don't like, are we telling the whole truth? I love your dress = Did you dig that up in a dumpster? I was caught up with work = I can't be bothered to be on time since it's you. I'll get on that right away = Ha, you wish!

Anyway, back to the movie. Personally, I felt it was a sharp observation of social circles and power relationships. A clever and biting script that doesn't let any of the characters off easily. But hey, maybe it's just me.

Kung Fu Hustle
The higher they climb, the harder they fall. At least, it seems that way for poor Stephen Chow. After the wonder that was Shaolin Soccer, he got a shitload of money from Miramax to make his next movie, and this was the result. It's not bad bad, it's just very blah, especially after Soccer. The man is a gifted comedy actor, but that proves both to be a blessing and a curse in this instance.

See, it appears that he was trying to make a serious martial arts homage film with this one, what with the paper-thin plot recycled from every kungfu movie ever made, the cameos by old-timey kungfu stars, etc. However, it being Stephen Chow, audiences expect comedy, and so there are funny bits spliced uncomfortably in-between the action. Unfortunately, the comedy here ranges from blah to side-splitting, the best being a bit in the first half that involves three throwing knives with an uncanny ability to ricochet. Nothing else quite matches up to that though, and there is enough of a cartoon-ey feel to most of the action sequences that you end up not giving a shit if anyone lives or dies. You just don't feel it. The cut-rate CGI certainly doesn't help matters much, and neither do the rip-offs of The Matrix movies (Burly Brawl, Bullet Time, anyone?), Pirates of the Caribbean (and every other skeletal-warrior movie) and classic Warner Brothers cartoons.

Like I said, the tone shifts (or tries to shift, at least) so rapidly that you never quite know what you're supposed to be feeling. Case in point: In the opening sequence, a police officer gets hot water spilled on his face, and then later a gangster gets his leg hacked off by a flying axe while he's running. As far as I can tell, they were meant to be completely serious, but still, there were people cracking up in the theatre. Were they doing it merely because it's a Stephen Chow movie, and they expect everything to be funny?

Should I start on the heavy-handed set-ups, which lead to no surprises plot-wise? Or the non-existence of the female lead? (He even makes her a mute, for crying out loud) How about his recurring motif in his last couple of movies of having someone piss on the lead character? Or maybe how annoying it is that the two most interesting characters in the movie are reduced to providing exposition in the final battle? Perhaps even mention how the best fight scene is the one near the midpoint, involving a pair of really cool blind assassins that kill with their music, which makes the finale look really lame?

Maybe this is just a phase of his he goes through - one shitty movie, one good movie, another shitty movie, another good one. Before Shaolin Soccer was The King of Comedy, which was pretty bad (again, it was the uneven juxtaposition between humor and pathos that killed him), and then now we have this. Perhaps when he gets too passionate about his subjects (acting and martial arts, in the two cases), he tends to let himself go. Some restraint would be appreciated. After all, it's not a good thing when a 100 minute-long movie feels like it's over two hours.

誰も知らない (Dare mo shiranai - Nobody Knows)
This little gem played at Cannes to rave reviews, and apparently opens next year in the US. The 13 year-old boy, Yûya Yagira, was the first Japanese, and the youngest in history to win best actor at Cannes. But it's not just him that shines, it's virtually impossible to fault any member of the fine ensemble cast, especially amazing considering they're mostly kids.

What else do I like about it? I like the slow, subtle set-ups and payoffs that rely on visuals and not dialogue. That's smart writing, and there's a bravery in trusting your audience to notice details and understand their significance. For example, a static shot of an empty bottle of juice, and four empty glasses surrounding it leads one to deduce that the eldest boy has brought his bottle of juice home and shared it out among his siblings. It's simple to do, but hard to think of - it's the very essence of cinema and photography, to distill an entire sequence down to a single image. With that one shot, you've eliminated possibly a whole afternoon's worth of shooting and lots more time editing, and said the same thing in a simpler, more elegant way to boot. What's not to like?

I like the rampant symbolism that's there if you're looking for it, but otherwise almost invisible. Everything's handled with a light, deft touch; nothing is heavy-handed, unlike so many other movies. And yet almost every image speaks volumes: a monorail train speeding away into the night, a row of weeds growing out of cup noodle containers stretching towards the sun, a smear of nail polish on a little hand, a tear rolling down a woman's face as she sleeps, a hand caressing the top of a pink suitcase, a noodle-container "flowerpot" falling and splitting. "A picture paints a thousand words" is a real cliché by now, but in this case, it is entirely appropriate.

I'm a big fan of structure, and especially of mystifying openings that seem puzzling at first, but are later recognized as the key moment in the film. Try to picture this in your mind's eye. A 13 year-old boy rides the monorail. His hand gently rubs the top of a pink suitcase. His fingers are grimy. He looks out at nothing in particular. A young teenage girl sits a few seats away. Her presence is almost invisible. It is night outside. His face is reflected in the window. The lights twinkle in the darkness out there. Opening title. Fade to black.

The next scene is entirely unconnected to this one, except for the boy, who looks cleaner and younger. The film goes on, and as we meet the rest of the characters, we almost forget about the opening. Still, it's there, sitting in a little corner of our mind. Until the instant when we realize where the sequence falls in the timeline of the film. And at that point we see that everything in the opening is full of power, urgency, and poignancy. And that is a great opening.

Finally, it's entirely successful in doing what I tried to do with my thesis film: To take a potentially melodramatic situation and strip it of all the melodrama possible, leaving only the Truth, the Essence of things. However, it goes a step further, by eschewing the flashy editing and camerawork that I relied on, and doing things in an almost documentarian style, it takes things one step closer to the Truth. The performances are completely naturalistic, and often feel improvised - again, enhancing the reality of the situation. Again, closer to the Truth.

Perhaps one day I'll get there.