Star Trek Into Darkness (2013) Movie Thoughts

When a series of direct terrorist attacks jangle the nerves of the Federation's Starfleet on Earth, a now estranged from command, James T. Kirk(Chris Pine) finds himself torn between his role as the Enterprise's still green (often reckless) leader, and an emotionally compromised avenger. With the core suspect behind the attacks, the once-considered high ranking officer, John Harrison(Benedict Cumberbatch) on the run, it is up to the newly re-assembled crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise to either render the criminal turncoat dead or alive. Meanwhile, Spock(Zachary Quinto), Uhura(Zoe Saldana), Scotty (Simon Pegg), and the rest struggle to grapple with the now volatile captain as aims are blurred, and stakes are dire in JJ Abrams' massive follow-up to the 2009 re-envisioning of the Gene Roddenberry classic. A sequel that ends as breathlessly as it opens, by doing as much nodding to Treks of the past, whilst adding all the sound and fury expected out of a lumbering summer entry.

When we last saw our favorite crew, the fatherlike Captain Pike(Bruce Greenwood) granted the upstart Kirk with the keys to the newly minted Enterprise and her crew, with a hopeful smile and romance for the unpredictable. But what was shone so bright not so long ago has shown its luster, and now sees the often foolhardy young captain at odds with those who saw so much promise. Kirk has yet to fully understand the temerity of leadership, and seems more likely than ever capable of leading his crewmates into certain doom. And no sooner that this comes to a head than when things are shattered so far, leading him on a path at odds with virtually his entire crew (who often have enough of their own things to contend with-IE Spock/Uhura difficulties) as he finds himself at the head of a massive Starfleet manhunt for a man with apparently deep knowledge of secret activities, and apparently a battery of combat ability the likes noone has ever seen. And once again, the heart versus the mind core of the series; the central relationship between Kirk and Spock is taken to new limits as rules are questioned, and feelings of loss are examined. Feelings that could be a harbinger of difficulties yet to come. The Enterprise's darkest hour may very well be at hand.

While one can just explain away the remainder of the film's plot, it would be detrimental to go any further as the entire aim of the film shifts after what feels like a pretty solid two thirds. Early on, Kirk's arc is well-established as he finally must contend with his own worst qualities, and is placed in a fog that could just as easily bench him as allow him to rise into the captain we know and love- with his entire crew in the balance. So when the philosophies of the characters work wonders in many sections throughout the film, there lies the secret to the success of the often clumsily-plotted, yet likeable first outing. Whether they run afoul of a young planet's primitive inhabitants in lieu of the Prime Directive, or find themselves in the belly of the Klingon beast, the chemistry across the board of palpable. Even as the action reaches absurd levels of wannabe Star Wars/Indiana Jones, it's the cast that makes so much of it delectable. Most importantly a more nuanced series of performances by Pine and Quinto, who very much make these legendary characters their very own, with cadences that have their own fun and effectiveness. New to the tale, aside from the mysterious villain, are the additions of Admiral Marcus (played by Peter Weller), and Science Officer Wallace(Alice Eve) who both offer up thinly veiled wrinkles of possibility. And then there's Cumberbatch's occasionally frightening Harrison, a man so single-minded in his aims and yet so shady in his motives, that it is rather unexpected when we find him to be almost sympathetic and exciting to watch as a broken soul in a lean truck of a form that's intimidating to put it lightly.


And now we come to the part of the review where the film really swerved left when it should have rode the shoulder. There have been a number of instances where I have found myself at odds with what the internet has dubbed "spoiler culture", an overall avoidance of early news often perpetrated by the movie geek blogosphere and beyond where early information is leaked to the chagrin of the production staff, often done for little more than site bragging rights. And while I myself can see why some would rather go into a film cold, it is dispiriting to see films derail themselves in hopes of proving the wonks of the internet wrong, if only for a few moments. Which is where Into Darkness hits a bit of a wall come the pinball-ricochet finale. It's a move so overt, so informed by fandom, that it in many ways robs the entire new series of its initial potential. Even when the plot of 2009's Trek carried with it many unsolved contradictions, puzzling behaviors, and so on, it often found itself buoyed by the characters. And this time around the bulk of the problem comes at a most crucial section, and finds the remainder of the film unable to regather the same stability. There is actually no reason for the choices made here, and become more baffling with each moment I write this. Especially when the most reasonable explanation for said decision can only be in hopes of both derailing and kissing up to a contingent that the previous film seemed only peripherally interested in, the old guard fans. It's a move that proves to be less clever than it so pretends to be, and lacks the kind of freewheeling sense of fun that had been promised by the first half. Outside of a majority of the LOST television series, rarely have I felt so bothered by this creative team's fallback posture of relying so heavily on familiarity to save what could have easily worked out more organically. This lack of faith in the setup, leads the new film into places that while remain boundlessly amusing, feel more than a little empty.

So with all of this said, there is quite a bit to admire about Star Trek Into Darkness as the now-familiar "dark middle chapter" film of an already well-established new franchise. It delivers the melodrama and spectacle where needed, and the cast is more than up to task this time.(Not to mention, Michael Giacchino's score that outflexes the original in pure emotive power) It's just far too bad that faith seemed to find itself lacking where it needed it most. When will we learn that it isn't spoilers are the problem, but rather the attitude inherent in the delivery? There are sincerely moments here I wish to keep with my lifetime of Trek memories, but it's going to be hard to overlook a final act that insists on the franchise's most beloved film for prestige. Even new fans deserve much better.

Andromedia(1998) Movie Thoughts

Beyond belief that it has indeed been fifteen years since Japan's V-cinema madman Takashi Miike left the confines of low-budget gangster/violence productions for the commercial big time. And strangest of all, it's all the more jarring that it was a music superstar fantasy vehicle that made this transition come to life. Much in the vein of The Beatles, The Who, and so many others, an attempt to make teen idol quartet, SPEED into movie stars must have seemed like a natural boon to the folks at TBS, and their record label while the Spice Girls made their baffling shot across the bow on the other side of the planet. So sad then, when the Miike-helmed ANDROMEDIA lacks any of the energy (read: attention by way of obnoxiousness), or even enthusiasm of said short-lived marketing juggernaut. What we have here is a J-pop film so devoid of core, so bereft of inspirational spark, it might just as well be a photocopied local concert leaflet stuck in a grating. A children's cybernetic fantasy as told by a manic depressant, what culminates in this mainstream debut is perhaps more telling than its ineptitude may imply.

Hiroko Shimabukuro stars as Mai, an ordinary girl who's long unrequited childhood love comes to an end, mere moments before her life follows suit. Killed by an oncoming truck (or her own lack of cognitive awareness, or new boyfriend's unfortunate timing- whichever one prefers), Mai's memories and virtual consciousness is then inexplicably manifested in digital form by way of her computer science genius of a father (!??). Mai has now become the virtual entity known as AI (Get it? Hur-hur), and it's up to her friends, including Yoko, Rika & Nao (The remainder of SPEED- Eriko Imai, Takako Uehara, & Hitoe Arakaki), and her grieving new boyfriend to save her from the clutches of her father's employers. Why? We're never truly let in on this particular piece of narrative necessity. Then again, much like how we suddenly learn of the father's abilities(which include the means to compact nearly an entire lifetime of memory and personality into what seem to be no more than three DVD-Rs), much of ANDROMEDIA doesn't bother with the details, and just lumbers on it its concrete grey-infused jumble between chase movie, music video, and bizarre 1990s teen angst.

 So many elements seem readily in place for the film, but without anything to hold them together, we are subject to nuggets of film ideas merely allowed to float freely without any binding thread, making for a frustrating & often painfully slow experience. It's easy to see where such confusion comes from within the initial five minutes as we are introduced to the central couple of Mai & Yuu, a pair that almost implies a completely different manner of movie. The inciting incident also has the distinction of being one of the most flippantly executed (and in turn, unintentionally hilarious) ever committed to film. So when we are expected to understand the hows and whys of Mai's becoming a computer-generated entity, we are barely given anything of worth to hold onto. Making matters even more headache inducing, is that the plot to not only destroy the program's creator, but to acquire AI for themselves is never fully addressed in any satisfying fashion. In fact, it is very much neglected openly, as if we should fully be aware that none of this carries any weight of any kind as long as we shut up, and get to enjoy SPEED - Terrific. Suddenly disappointed that I wasn't having certain vagrant chems suggested to me.

So as described already, ANDROMEDIA is a difficult thing to take in as this grand transition between the days of gangland insanity like Dead Or Alive, and colorful adaptations such as Yatterman & Ace Attorney. To even attempt to do this work any justice is to invite arachnids of insanity in, and allow them to gnaw away at the brain centers that keep depression in check. Once it is made clear that AI has taken on the traits and appearance of Mai, but is confined to an oh-so-dated junky looking laptop, the movie then finds itself unable to decide whether it is a family-friendly FX-laden fantasy, or dark and melodramatic teen soap. And this is something that pretty much makes up the bulk of the film, (no joke, the movie just loves stopping mid-action to pour on gallons of unearned despair) until it shifts again due to the truly bizarre appearance of SPEED's boy-band equivalent, DA PUMP.

...

That's right. Let that one sink in..


Where a chase sequence ends in the destruction of a car, leading to a music video involving an abandoned garage surrounded by sheet metal & FIRE.


Why they have decided that there is no reason to fear that the bad guys wouldn't barge into this, and proceed to end all of this in a senseless hail of bullets still kind of baffles me. The fact that Miike never flexes such a daffy move remains disappointing, and this trend continues on for a majority of the remaining running time.

And that's pretty much what sums up my ultimate feelings on ANDROMEDIA - It's a ransacked back alley behind a Tower Records that has broken pieces of ad copy that offer up something potentially interesting, but sees no means of making it work as there remains no rhyme or reason for it being so messy. It's not even chaotic enough to be interesting, it just lumbers along as if being held back by obligation rather than enthusiasm. ("I guess I'll just be a movie..") It's this neglected middle child who is well aware of its position in the sibling chain, and just lies back, listless and unwilling to offer more than a halfhearted wave, while wearing a sarcastic T-shirt. If there's anything worse than an uninspired production, it's an uninspired production by a director who is often known for moments of sheer, biting inspiration.


Which leads me to looking back at all of Miike's output (that I have seen anyway - the man is the very definition of prolific), and considering all the bad that comes with the good. As excited as many of us where about his potential during those heady latter 1990s-early 2000s, his strengths as a filmmaker were often in shocking violence, and awkwardly surreal humor. So when one asks him to step well outside this milieu, it shouldn't be too much of a stretch to feel like this wasn't the best fit for his abilities. Now what could have at least happened here was something truly out there. And the biggest problem dogging this film, is that despite some TRULY bizarre stuff injected into strangely carved out corners of the story (mostly within a subplot involving Mai's angst-ridden, long-lost, cancer-stricken half-brother, played by Yukinari Tamaki), there is little energy holding any of it together, almost as if the director was aware that this wasn't enough to work with, and had zero assistance along the way. And again, looking back at when Miike's energies are not feeling the spark, films that could have easily found their way conceptually, often fall flat - Something that epitomizes what happens here. It's all a mishmash of intentional and unintentional weird, and it simply isn't enough.

Oh. And do I go ahead and make mention of the inclusion of some wonky guest casting choices made for this most auspicious mainstream debut? A large part of the film's truly mental nature comes courtesy of none other than legendary cinematographer/part-time actor, Christopher Doyle, who's role here of main heavy is only made worse by way of a computer translator conceit in the film that speaks over his english dialogue - with NO subtitles to allow clarity of anything he is saying. His jarring role notwithstanding, turns by TETSUO's Tomorowo Taguchi, and the ever reliable Naoto Takenaka further take this film down a rabbit hole only the hardcore shut-in may be interested in. Do any of them seem to know what kind of movie they were making? Doubt that they cared(except maybe Takenaka), and it shows.

So this is what can happen when the attraction of bigger budgets and higher profiles comes a-knocking. We could get something borderline inscrutable. Wait. Scratch that. ANDROMEDIA is an inscrutable and often stupefying experience in commercial vacuousness that feels more like a funeral than any Lars Von Trier work, and akin to a directorial Freudian slip. It knows it is headed for dim and darker days, and wants us to follow along. Miike might very well had seen the end of the world, and it was buried deep within a dumpster filled with AKB48 CDs..


  

The Thieves (2012) Movie Review

Sometimes genre isn't merely a checklist of concepts tasked with reaching out to larger audiences, and is akin to a language that multiple diverse cultures must meet halfway upon in the name of a globalized populist cinema. In the last ten years alone, we have seen other countries rise to the challenge that Hollywood had long claimed domain, to occasionally classic-making results. So when we consider Dong-hoon Choi 's grand paean to the international heist comedy, it might come to no surprise that South Korea might very well be one of the last great bastions of movie scale outside of tentpole filmmaking. When a two mildly dysfunctional teams of professional thieves collaborate on a casino job for a one-of-a-kind diamond, matters are intensified by old flames, delicate bonds, and an ever complicated security arena. The Korean team, led by the younger and foolhardy Popie(Lee Jung-Jae), eager to prove themselves beyond mid-scale capers, and team Hong Kong, run by the smooth-natured, Chen (played to charismatic highs by HK favorite, Simon Yam), who's group contains its own idiosyncratic breaks in the armor seek a prized connection and mentor, whilst courting unprecedented danger levels with the addition of master thief. And while this simple premise is on the whole terribly familiar, much like the characters within the story, the secret to Thieves' blazing success lies in understanding the framework, technical chutzpah, and terrific ensemble.

Starting within an awkward comic setup involving a secretive art dealer's stash ( a con which will come heavily into play later), Popie and his crew show a quick flare for improvisation, but perhaps a tragic lack of grace. Popie's team consists of elder linguist and veteran, Chewingum(Kim Hae-Suk), ambitious cat burglar, Yenicall (Jeon Ji-hyun),  and cable assistant, Zampano (Kim Soo-Hyun) who find themselves capable, but have garnered something of a dangerous trail. Revealing something of a lack of foresight on the part of this weird cadre of career criminals, Popie receives a call from once penniless, but now legendary heister, Macao Park(Yun-seok Kim) in hopes of guaranteed success.  And with good timing as the authorities are practically knocking on Popie's door. So when the central hit involves a frightfully secure casino, and a plan to steal a jewel, only to sell it back to its owner - a notorious gangster, it really becomes a nasty rock & hard place scenario. So when Park also realizes that Popie has also tapped the newly released from parole Pepsee (Kim Hye-Soo), things are made even more unstable.

And the less we go into Chen's group, which includes only somewhat dependable talent such as Andrew(Oh Dai-su) , Johnny(Kwok Cheung Tsang), and a safe cracking legacy in Julie(Angelica Lee of The Eye fame), perhaps the better.


Right away, Choi's propensity for kinetics & humor confidently introduce us into the world, and makes no bones about this being little more than stylized fun. While stakes do in fact reveal themselves to be very real, a lot of it is done in a frenetic, decompression-happy manner where crap does in fact "get real", but is almost responded to with a sly gag or cool-headed display of sardonicism. Really more of a jazzed-up remix of his earlier hits, The Big Swindle, and Tazza: The High Rollers, Thieves is also quite eager to please in its attempts to match/surpass much of what has come before in the subgenre. The bulk of the film finds itself rather comfortable weaving and whisking in between the varied, and often dysfunctional characters, often revealing some satisfying dollops of complexity, even as the action ramps up to Mission Impossible levels at times.

Another exciting angle worth mentioning, it's the openness to a more globalized world that also makes Thieves stand out. With characters flippantly jostling between asian languages, the whole affair feels very much like how one would imagine an intricate spy or even futuristic science fiction novel. The diversity on display is not only inspiring but energizing for a glossy piece of escapist silliness. There's clearly a lot of effort being made on set to make this more than an Oceans knockoff, in fact, it seems far more involved than that series ever dared itself to be. It's perfectly comfortable in a contemporary world, and such a focus is kind of rare even now.  

Also worthy of major note, is the cinematography by Yeong-hwan Choi which takes impressive advantage of location shooting in Busan, Seoul, Macau & Hong Kong, which is often gorgeous, and evocative of the best caper films of the past. At times it feels more than ready to take on the Bond franchise, and could probably do with with simple ease.

Now where the film perhaps suffers a bit, it's perhaps in our lack of central emotional compass. It's no spoiler to declare much of the cast to be morally muddy, and that some of the more likeable characters do not see the final reel. But as this is a kind of almost classic Lupin III world that is bring portrayed here, it stands to reason that we are in a den of would-be anti-heroes, not necessarily working in the interest of the group. And yet somehow, Choi figures out ways to make us feel more than mere resentment for being around such a den of squabbling vipers for nearly two hours. In fact, there are moments interspersed within the action that are capable of leaving one perhaps even a little charmed. In classic caper fashion, there is always someone far worse watching from within plain sight, and it is here that the movie dares us to play the bad guy for a spell. He is having an opulent party at our moral expense, and it doesn't feel like a terribly steep price to pay.

Thematic Wanderings: Shozo Hirono & The Yakuza Politiq

Been spending so many months considering how film is often a forum for not only the requisite escapes and flights of fancy so many viewers come to expect from a night at the cinema, but also of challenging, and often regressive forms of political musing. Much in the way that classic art and literature, at their core presented interesting ways to serve the public without being harshly transparent. And while many works attempt to avoid this, it is undeniable that many of filmdom's most iconic works are in fact collage-like representations of social constructs, questions, and occasional rally cries based on daily life of the time in which it was filmed. Even as markets lean more and more toward remakes and adaptations, it is not without an often pointed concern that even more spectacle-centric features are capable of carrying with them very real questions about the role of citizens versus that of those running the show. And the further we look back, the more this is evidently obvious in societies young in this manner of film discourse.


Specifically in realms of more rough and ready forms of media of the late 1960s-early 1970s anime and Japanese film, there was so much happening outside local movie houses and homes, that it was hard to watch anything of impact without it alluding to some form of strife taking place throughout multiple sectors of the post-war era. Where in anime, much of this frustration and angst could be seen manifested in works such as Devilman & others, few filmmakers captured the full-frontal conflict of hidden societies, scraping desperately for ever-shrinking dividends than Kinji Fukasaku. A man who's Battles Without Honor and Humanity (aka - The Yakuza Papers) series furiously carved out a stifling vision of systems forged and unforged in real time, without what so many once imagined to be firmly established codes. In this series, centering on the twenty-plus year war over Hiroshima's gangland titans and small fries, each installment paints a bloody tapestry, loosely based on real events that rocked an already unstable nation weary from conflicts abroad, aching for some manner of new identity.


With the young and often idealistic Shozo Hirono (in an icon-making performance by Bunta Sagawara) struggling to maintain a sense of honor to an increasingly chaotic underworld, we are host to a full-tilt typhoon of violence, treachery, and tattered pride that was up until that time, unseen in Japanese crime dramas outside of some of Fukasaku's earlier excursions into post-war criminality. Where Street Mobster, and others flirted with the dregs of an economic rollercoaster, the Battles saga dives headlong into the beast's belly, often surrounded by antiheroes with varying degrees of trustworthiness. Most of which is displayed by Sugawara's Hirono, a weathered man who's struggles from the very bottom of the pecking order, take him to the highest levels in Hiroshima gangland. His central struggle being that a man of old fashioned codes and morals, almost constantly finding himself in danger of irrevocably being stained by the erosion, not to mention treachery coming at him from nearly all sides.


Perhaps this is best encapsulated by his almost bleakly humorous relationship with would-be kingpin, Yamamori (Nobuo Kaneko), perhaps the new face of Japanese leadership. Sniveling, petty, and cowardly to a tee, Yamamori's almost whiny money-man approach seems primed to infect generations of more "jingi"-based members of the local families. This almost absurd invasion of big business into the affairs of those who would rather see themselves as local "Robin hood" types soon reveals hidden motivations, and newfound lusts for power that find Hirono almost inescapably trapped in Yamamori's orbit. Even as he begins making a name for himself amongst the Kure City gumi, the old man is never terribly far away. Almost becoming the father he never wanted, Yamamori (and even his equally cartoonish wife) ingratiates himself into poor Hirono's life, often leading to some truly terrible conflicts and bloodshed. The absurdity simply being in that our hero's often hard wood stubbornness to be the more honorable man keep him from destroying this longtime rival once and for all. But alas, nothing is ever so simple, therefore the two often require each other despite such animosity.

       
 By the time we get to Proxy War, this is made into greater manifest once Hiroshima's gangs are met with a most unlikely leader in Uchimoto, "successor" to the Muraoka clan. Whiny, petulant and cowardly, he is in many ways a far more irresponsible rendition of Yamamori, only with that much more reckless pride. Even as Fukasaku front-loads the "messages" behind this third film, the story is no less potent in its satire as a multitude of the town's most brawny gangsters find themselves at the whims of a pair of niggling manchildren, ready to spill blood over the most shallow of justifications. In many ways a mirror to the tumult happening in the streets of Tokyo(Not to mention the world abroad) , with those in power squabbling over scraps as the young and powerful are meant to fight amongst each other (and often die) for what Fukasaku likely considered to be patently absurd reasons.


What makes the Battles series so singularly political, is evident from Fukasaku's unflinching rage that is painted with grand strokes and striking sound, often making no bones about the horrors that lie under the veils of propriety and tradition that are bandied over others in the name of order. Rituals of bonding and unification suddenly take on a mechanical, often transparently disingenuous nature, and are little more than showcases for which new schism is soon to appear, ready to unravel virtually seconds later. The worms of pride, and greed underlie virtually every "diplomatic" move that is made, often a false formality, and far from interested in anything as noble as peace. In the world of Fukasaku's yakuza, power is fleeting, honor is questionable, and even the strongest find themselves at odds with comrades, even to the point that they must grovel at the feet of their greatest rival for some infinitesimal piece of rotted meat on petrified bones.

Special Rumbles: Lessons From Roger Ebert (1942-2013)

Despite yesterday's news regarding his health, there was no part of me that was in any way prepared for writing up several thoughts regarding the importance of one Roger Ebert in my social, and written life. To be completely fair, noone is truly prepared for such a thing. But to give a complete charting of just how important one person's views can be toward so many angles of another's life, it is also something possibly foolhardy to consider. But what I can best deliver in a timely, and hopefully raw fashion, is to keep beacons glowing in the name of what makes criticism so important to not merely film, but to human culture as a whole. Much like how achaeologists derive theory from findings and disparate elements available, there is a deep importance toward our collective ability to see beyond mere positives and negatives. To dole out how something makes us feel, rather than merely take in everything at face value wthout second thought, or future evaluation. And there were fewer voices available to so many of us in the broadcast age with such a reverence for the unusual, and the accessible than Ebert, a man who's very presence on television or in print, exuded a yearning to understand not only an evolving artform, but a rapidly morphing world.


Growing up a remarkably addicted child of movies, Ebert's views on At The Movies remained an integral part of my weekend viewing diet. To be in my presence throughout a majority of the late 1980s meant that this ritual was an expected norm. And it wasn't merely because of access to clips of the latest releases, and whether or not they received a thumbs up or down, but rather my focus was largely on how both Gene Siskel & Ebert went from gentle confirmation to outright verbal blitzkrieg in mere minutes, and still retain a fair amount of sympatico by the end of each episode. And despite the often whispered revelation that the duo in fact didn't get along well outside the theater for a time, it was endlessly exciting to see such worldviews interconnect with such energy from their reaction to something as commonly seen as diversion as film. They spoke a mature form of a language I long wanted to be able to grasp, even as I grappled with the often humiliating trial known as grade school.


Moreso than any other televised movie critic, there was an inherent relatability to the way Ebert examined movies that told me, "I could do that". In fact, I vividly remember recording my first movie review "podcast" with my best friend by way of cassette tape, capturing our reviews of movies like Robocop & Rocky IV. This went even further come the early 1990s, when a good high school friend of mine fand I wrote a "He Said, She Said" column for our local newspaper's experimental "youth" section. Sharing impressions was a major part of what drove me to write, and perhaps it seemed inevitable that japanese cartoons would eventually follow. It wasn't enough for me to merely watch something and forget about it in preparation for the next life trial, it was vital that I take it down somewhere, or talk it out with a fellow weirdo. Discourse was on the brain from a very early point, and Ebert was unquestionably a large part of why.



And as I mentioned, growing up the only kid in a nearly 40-mile radius who was halfway interested in cartoons from across the ocean, as well as weird movies from other parts of the world, it was great to have someone on TV with the openness & enthusiasm he did. Whether it be his surprising segment on AKIRA, or opening up about Miyazaki's works, it was strengthening to see someone in the grand sphere talking about something so many were so quick to write off in those days. In fact when they happened (which was not at all often), it was this brief moment of relief that came over me. A reminder that I had indeed run into something that spoke to far more than a small niche of strange kids/adults, and that it was something worthy of merit on a world's stage. A confirmation that art could be found just about anywhere as long as one is taking that extra moment to look.



Among the more important lessons I took away from him being such a presence in my life, was that articulation was vital toward greater connection between very different types.  That it wasn't enough to merely say your piece, and abandon room for further discussion. Walls were malleable and filled with gaps and curves which can shift and bend based on shared experience. That the wheel must continue to turn in the name of a healthier ecosystem. And while differences are an inevitability, they are also what make us so valuable to others. Enthusiasm for art, idea & expression flowed naturally through him, and it was infectious, especially when meeting new people who shared a similar affinity for the language.



And to be even more on the even side, it wasn't as if I agreed with his views all the time. In fact, a there were multiple instances where I simply didn't understand where he was coming from with many films that have since become important in the eyes of the public. For instance, I have never, and likely will never understand his evisceration of Blue Velvet (1986). But perhaps therein lies the greatest lesson; that critique of any kind is less about the object being reviewed, and often more about the person doing the review, and the others they are reaching out to. It's continued communication in celebration of something shared, also made by human hands. There is something inherently natural about reacting to the world, and examining the results on an individualistic basis. Just as no two people will see the same sunset in the same way, there is something important about the ability to take a human work, and derive a nebula of thought.It is within this important activity that our futures are founded, and universes are rendered endless.


But another really important thing I learned by way of watching and reading him, was that I didn't have to agree with a person's assessments, and maintain respect. That it was indeed possible to trade barbed differences upon anything, and still seek to understand the other person, which should be one of our greater goals as a species. Ebert saw human civilization as a triumph, and there is no triumph without regard to the past, and at its most primal -- that is the cinema's greatest gift to all of us.


That is what I'd like to believe anyway.

Poster Discoveries: Captain Harlock

Courtesy of the honorable, August Ragone, the one-sheet for Shinji Aramaki's megabudget CG Harlock project has arrived. Both brawny and ominous, the project feels a little removed from the Matsumoto classic, but thrilling all the same.

Thematic Wanderings: Intercultural Workout

Been Netflixing all Easter Sunday, and then it began to natter at me if cultural barriers will persist in dogging certain acclaimed works. It's just something that I have witnessed in various corners of the internet, where some often well-articulated writers/podcasters have disparaged certain works in ways that while containing gripes that may very well contain their own sense of validity, seem to lack additional insight as to why said works seems to connect so well with others. And while even considering such a jumble of subjectivity, it stands to reason that context is at times more than necessary for some viewers to bridge gaps that cannot otherwise be bounded over. Even I could be considered guilty for similar transgressions (perhaps Iron Sky would have worked for me if it didn't take such a singularly foreign view of american politics) when something that speaks clearly to a regional audience is bought here, only to garner detraction.

Which brings me to one of the main questions that has been nagging at me for years; With emerging, and expanding foreign markets for film, and the easiest access to foreign genre film in history, just how much have we collectively begun to gather a specific level of expectations based on what we consume as viewers in our native culture? In the last twenty years alone, we have seen a sharp climb in production and story quality in other markets, and one of the more interesting side-effects of this, is a clear need on the part of certain reviewers/commentators, to require an almost strange amount of objectivity to their subjects. While on one hand, this can be seen as a reasonable point of argument, there is also this evidence of possibly a lack of cultural/historical knowledge creating great gaps where some would expect more universal clarity. It's a discord that is possibly inherent in these accelerations of access and exposure.

Something is bound to be lost during this time, and can only possibly be remedied with patience, and work. But could within the age where all are content creators, be this place where such understanding could in fact be reached without so much of the expected derailment by way of the atypical failure to grasp simple language and cultural. We are all within our respectively shifting places in the global enthusiast community, and while it is expected that subjectivity will remain a human constant, it still fascinates me when a colleague expresses dismay at something that  reaches others in ways that transcend the mere distraction. So when films that come from other parts of the world, where there have yet to be greater amounts of understanding between cultures, it is only natural that certain themes and concerns will fail to make a dent in the minds of even the most attentive viewers.


Which leads it all in an almost "chicken or egg" scenario, where filmmakers are far more capable of making works that center well within a regional framework, and are brought over to be re-examined by cultures still a gap removed. It's almost paradoxical how we (meaning previous generations of strange cinema conisseurs) were once able to appreciate the works of foreign filmmakers with more openness, and encouragement once upon a time, regardless of a dearth of budget, or resolute comprehension. Flash forward to today, and such notions are almost completely flipped by these very same viewers. I do not propose anything in a way of a series of solutions, but it is something one couldn't help but notice. But could it possibly be that many of us have traded in some elements of wonder for an unspoken model of approval? This may be completely off base, but one cannot help but see this as a possible trend coming forth as more fans find themselves becoming reviewers, when it can also be said that arts such as film defy constructs despite having cul-de-sacs of narrative safety.

But I will state this as an ever curious lover of nuance, it sometimes takes as much work from us as it does from the artists.