Thematic Wanderings: The Art Of Getting Away With It

Fellow co-conspirator and book creator E. Hsu, often questions the stuff we watch. Not always the hidden messages, but as a graphic artist herself, the approach. She recently called out the opening shot of Gone Girl, with the head of Rosamund Pike being caressed by an unseen, but clearly masculine hand as the words of Ben Affleck posit questions about his beloved - only to turn ugly in contrast to the hyper-stylized beauty before him.  And suddenly these reminders of what savvy visual storytellers do with their images to let us in came rushing to mind. That cinematic sleight of hand can be employed as a means of drawing in an audience who may not have considered a film's baggage otherwise. Especially considering our rapidly evolving media intake, there is a growing complexity to film that often plays it coy, to occasionally insincere degrees, playing the audience in order to implant conflicting thoughts. Considering the particular filmmaker in this case, it became quite clear that this was a deliberate attempt at playing viewers at their own game. While we have certainly over the past few years seen a few filmmakers over the years employ tactics on the level of a sledgehammer, the hidden, is often the most dynamic, and the style most effective in gathering years of heated controversy. The belief that post-film dialogue is far more constructive than a blunt-forced message (See- The Wachowskis. See- Snowpiercer.). After several discussions regarding the validity of hidden themes in mainstream cinema, the blog seemed to call out for a teensy bit of extra light on this often rocky topic.

Such a contradiction is classic Fincher, where he will often present an evocative visual, but use the soundtrack to offer up either sly humor, or an unreliable establishment to stir matters up. Among his most famous, is the final shot of Fight Club. The slowly pulling image of the narrator and Marla, hand-in-hand while the city's bank buildings topple one after another before them to the almost chorus-like sounds of Pixies' Where Is My Mind?, playing over the devastation. All we had seen up to this point, revealing the ultimate personal revelation of the narrator's journey, with the apocalypse of a confining banking system. Our so-called "villian", is gone, but his plan has gone off without a hitch. Our characters now reside within a new world. The film is asking pointedly about seeking new routes beyond the mundane & self-destructive to achieve our dreams. It's both giddy and harrowing, and ultimately feels emotionally resolved.We have reached thematic critical mass.

"Free yourself".

Chock it all up to your classic scene design and final construction. One can either use the field of vision to convey a clear-cut idea, or mix everything from costume, to set, to lighting, editing, and even music to occasionally blur certain thematic lines. One of the dicier things a filmmaker and crew can do to enhance, and often botch a scene, is with a risky mix and match. Happy music when something sad is occurring on screen, or perhaps a moody voice-over during the scene of a wedding, the means by which films can achieve a complex fabric of emotion is often infinite. But it can also lead to confusion among viewers not savvy to what is happening. And this is often where some critique can diverge between individuals. Mise-en-scène, remains something of a delicate art, and can work wonders depending upon its usage.

So when filmmakers take on more straightforward material, it's pretty easy for the casual viewer to miss elements that are uniquely them. Especially when they are often more adventurous in their projects. It's something that I have witnessed more than ever in recent years, which often leads to many an interesting discussion. Because certain scenes may mean different things to whoever is discussing it, the dialogue can occasionally break down - which can be anathema for some.

A classic recent example is the final montage of The Dark Knight, where a voice-over justifies a cover-up by our heroes, while we witness the fallout from the film's harrowing story. Everything leading up to this moment grants us a picture of an antagonist that has spiritually one-upped the city and it's defenders to the breaking point. And with the last bastion of hope to the community gone, and many dead in its wake, the need to lie to keep his legacy intact is played to the hilt with Batman defending his role as an outsider. What's thematically interesting about this scene, is the score which takes some recurring musical motifs that were introduced in Batman Begins, now take on broken form. They are now in a minor key, mixed with an almost triumphant wail, as if to say that everything we are seeing here is a compromise. Wayne's mission has taken a turn, and is now in an even more morally grey place than he was at the offset. The sweeping camera pans over Commissioner Gordon's speech, flag waving in the background, followed by his destroying of the Bat Signal, all imply that none of this is an ideal outcome. And yet, many a conservative pundit found this ending to be a condoning of certain tactics being used by private entities during the height of the Iraq War. They ultimately missed the part where all of this is proof of how the Joker actually prevailed on a philosophical level. The city will no longer be the same. Criminality may be on the run, but corruption can even ensnare the most well-meaning. It's a psychologically complex, and challenging way to end a blockbuster sequel, and yet it completely got away with positing an uncomfortable truism regarding western civilization.

So for every conceptual swerve a storyteller can dish out, there is always potential for involved dialogue. Which is pretty much a most exciting place to be as a spectator. To drink in the complex, and to have something new to share with another, even if it's a freshly formed idea, is one of the great virtues of art. Problems persist only when everything points to a simple answer. Sure, it can be great to hear something that aligns perfectly with your views, but to experience another's purview is equally as important, if not moreso. As we are consistently evolving creatures, it remains more crucial than ever to allow the exchange to create rivulets, and multicolored fibers. It's what helps us enrich ourselves and each other. But it's especially interesting when we think we are aware of what we are looking at, only to find ourselves stealthily implanted with a vital, impactful new discussion.

Snowpiercer (2013) Film Review

There are those moments when the global political climate has become so polarized that film become something of a commenting agent on the nature of social balance, often to the detriment of actual substance and/provocation. In recent years, this has come in the form of numerous big budget offerings such as The Dark Knight Rises(2012), The Hunger Games(2012), and Tom Hooper's Les Miserables (also 2012). Films flirting with ideas of revolution, often to middling, and often pandering results that speak to a more established worldview. Which is why with great joy and relief that Bong Joon-ho's first western-style feature ranks amongst the very best of its kind. And I say this understanding just how troubling such an opinion could be. But as it stands, SNOWPIERCER does for modern allegorical science fiction what it did for many of the best during the strife-ridden 1970s. A wild, weird fever poem that comes out of the gates swinging with heavy rusted metal in its hands, refusing to let go of the fight.

Right onto the bitter end.


Based upon the graphic novel series, Le Transperceneige by Lob, Rochette, and Legrand, we are thrust headlong into an earth subsumed by a new ice age after an ecological cure-all for global warming backfires. The remains of humanity are now populating a fully self sustaining locomotive which travels the frozen globe over the course of a year. And civilization has resumed its old world habits as the rich and powerful maintain the front, "sacred" engine of the train, while the rest toil in desolation in the rear cars. Seventeen years of this existence has sown seeds of revolution amongst the tail dwellers before, but Curtis Everett (a thoughtful, solid Chris Evans) has a plot in mind which threatens to go further than any previous revolt. But in order to do this, Everett and comrades must enlist the services of former engineer Namgoong Minsoo, a convict with extensive understanding of the train's design and security systems..and his equally loopy daughter, Yona (played by Bong Joon-ho veterans, Song Kang-ho, and Go Ah-Sung, again playing family). The deal is made by way of a shared addiction to a dangerous hallucinogenic drug being distributed to the pair in small doses each gate they open.


After years of living as "freeloaders" to the elites of the locomotive, living off of mysterious food product, and scraping for what amount of comfort and space possible, Curtis and friends undertake what is mythically a bare fisted journey through the ranks of civilization as the powers that be struggle to maintain the long established order. In the guise of the ever prim and frankly, over-the-top Mason (played with great relish by favorite, Tilda Swinton), strikes against the order have normally found themselves sufficiently snuffed out. But alas, Curtis and company prove themselves time and again. Despite this, a breathless game of not-so-magical doorknobs ensues as the rebellion finds that their mythical world is far stranger and terrifying than ever imagined. Even as they move forward car by car, Curtis' hopes to install respected elder, Gilliam (John Hurt) as the engine's new representative are put to great test. This is perhaps a good place as any to admit that the structure of SNOWPIERCER does such a surprising job of fulfilling so many important character beats in careful, but unusual doses as the journey becomes increasingly grueling. And yet, director Bong, cast and crew never let up on the world building and tension throughout the piece. Many often simple rules of storytelling are defied early on, but are rewarded by way of unexpected strokes of personality later. Strokes that are often the earmarks of an auteur ready to play in this larger, more expressive canvas. The director is aware of the dark dream he is carving together here, and it's both an alien, and understandably human one.


Seeking to overthrow the order of the train in hopes of liberating what remains of humankind is at the core of our heroes' mission, but to know what lies at the end entices with an unerring dread. Complicating their journey ahead, are the loss of two young children belonging to two of the would-be rebels(Octavia Spencer and Ewen Bremner). The story tightens its grip rather aggressively, and plays upon numerous notions of inequality and exploitation, as our characters face frightening enemies, experience sunlight for the first time, not to mention view the world left behind. (where all are told that it is a hellscape, guaranteeing death for those who choose to escape the confines of the train) The painterly nature of the entire film is challenged by such small and confined quarters. And yet somehow each realm represents a new rung on the societal ladder. Considering the original controversy between Joon-ho, and the Weinstein's over the length of the film for US audiences, it is incredibly hard to imagine what would warrant edits. There doesn't seem to be any additional fat on this bone. The thoughts and events on display show little to no reason for additional cuts, and the final film works despite what first time viewers might assume was a rushed opening.


Stories of the train/society's great creator, Wilford (Ed Harris) is hinted at throughout, adding more to the mystery behind the creation and maintenance of this enduring machine. And the road to Wilford is a harsh, costly one that underlies phrases dispersed throughout the film regarding precise balance, controlled numbers, and a need to maintain places in the set hierarchy. The have-nots languish in near Holocaust-like trappings, littered with filth and roaches, and the haves are served regularly to the points of absurdity. The selected few young who are born on the train are served doses of canned education regarding the machine as a savior, and Wilford the unseen, divine benefactor. All within the guise of "natural order". With Mason and her gallery of near fanatical weirdos protecting the train's wealth, we are guests to a surrealist's vision of our daily world, granting us a large scale vision that is effectively nightmarish. The "sacred engine", is what it is due to triumphing over science's greatest gamble, and yet nothing has changed from the human world of the outside. A simulacrum. A continuation. Business as usual.


The element that makes this even more impactful, is in how to consider the director's past works, and his own concerns for his homeland. Bong Joon-ho has used a diverse array of genres to protest what he sees as a grand problem for growing up South Korean. And what he has fashioned here becomes his most direct message to date: the rebels, are Northerners. While the patented, passive aggressive silliness in the latter cars represents the Gagnam Style in all its horrifically plastic glory. And if this is little more than a reductive pet theory, just wait until the final act where motivations are revealed, and don't say that it doesn't sound more than a little familiar. While quite universal in its concerns for the inequities of modern civilization, there are lines here that echo heavily from Korea's tortured past. And to have Hollywood actors deliver these lines is a subversive piece of serendipity that is simply miraculous (not to mention gutting). Also thrilling to witness, is the re-pairing of Song Kang-ho and Go Ah-sung who continue to play father and daughter brilliantly. Come to think of it, everyone across the board is solid. If there were even one remotely off-key note in the cast, perhaps it is Jamie Bell's Edgar, who feels a little uneven in the handling. 


Joon-ho's poetics start off relatively simplistic throughout the initial thirty minutes, but are textured greatly come the latter half when we finally discover who these entities are, what they represent, and just how paradoxical certain world models truly are. And when matters finally reach their meltdown point in what stands as the boldest denouement of this type of story possible, it becomes easier to see why director Bong chose what he did. Greater themes of trust, and an overall reflexive approach to nature lie at the burning core of SNOWPIERCER, that could generally put off certain viewers. Because at a glance, the film and its cast imply something that so easily comports itself to the typical big budget spectacle. This is no simplistic exploration of bourgeois versus the proles, it is a map of what has led us to this point, troubles and all. And the answers are not pat in any way, and might very well be painful to experience. What we really have here, is a triumph of vision on par with the best fantastical cinema has ever attempted. Not simply concerned with being a balm for the disenfranchised,  SNOWPIERCER, is a glorious splinter in the side of our developed world, and I couldn't be happier that it exists.


  

South Korea's Harrowing Jewel: The Housemaid (1960)

Upon suggestion by my ever asian cinema-curious roomie, I decided to at long last catch the rarely seen in the west Kim Ki-young film, Hanyo (AKA- The Housemaid). And to consider this as seminal might be understating it by an impressive mile. While on the surface, this is a film that feels borderline primitive, and even quaint scene-wise, there is something utterly punishing and prophetic here that solidifies the film's reputation. On one level, a caustic melodrama involving the plight of a factory music teacher's family after hiring a mysterious newcomer to handle their domestic duties. While on the other, it is a darkly funny satire of South Korea's burgeoning upper middle class complete with technological terrors, desperate women, and an even more desperate populace.

What initially leapt out to me about this film, was the lush, often decadent composition laid forth for a black and white Korean film made in the 1960s. Ki-young's attention to set detail, placement of objects, characters, and even lighting predates and clearly laid the foundation for well over a decade of phenomenally articulate filmmaking from a country long considered a non-entity in international cinema circles. There are plenty of visual choices here that predate the works of Park Chan-wook, Bong Joon-ho, and even Kim Ji-woon in their almost obsessive symbological drive. Influences ranging from Hitchcock to Honda, there is a confident, painterly feel to the entire film, as if it was a tale demanding of our attention. From the use of a cat's cradle in the opening, to the heavy use of stairs as "escalating" motif, the piece is composed to burn deep into the panic recesses of the mind. And considering the era that the nation was just slowly crawling out of, there is plenty on the heart of the film and its maker to justify it.

And the funny part about the entire affair is that despite its many of its glaring issues, Housemaid is a potent, almost seething nightmare. Unlike what eventually became something of a suspense movie staple; the usurping nanny manipulating the well-to-do family, the story takes full advantage of everything at Ki-young's disposal to weave a vision of middle-class in awe of the west's ideals, to the detriment of human logic, or understanding. The central family of the film led by a struggling piano teacher, and a career seamstress find themselves yearning for a life beyond, only to find themselves endlessly at odds with their current state. As they are both career-minded, and not at all shy about coming clean about their ambitions to have the biggest house with the best machines and accoutrements, the main setting never lets us forget just how squalid their success really is. Even as they are now dependent upon government funded factory works, and women are entering the workforce with great speed, there is this unerring feeling that the advancements have themselves led to even more work, greater exhaustion, and yet some notions that towing this line is key to infinite happiness.

So when the piano teacher, Mr. Kim(Kim Jin-kyu) finds himself at the center of affections by one of his students, leading to the entry of a new home student, and inevitably the titular character, we are granted insight into the film's more paranoid leanings. Despite the advancements whirling through asian society like a torrent, it is also a delicate one where a once sidelined population (in this case, females) has suddenly seen a shift in fortunes. It is to the point that not unlike everyone else in the film, they are attracted to this newfound sense of empowerment inherent in the system that is now providing far more than had previously been possible. It's so pervasive, that even marriage doesn't seem to be much of a deterrent for some of the younger generation. And even as the film's elder's terribly wish for things to maintain their noble lustre, there is an inescapable clawing effect taking place that seems uninterested in the artifice all around them, and rather more about living up to an approval that will never truly come. Even the children of the Kims don't seem like simple kids. They have seen too much, and can be considered every bit as questionable.

This is made all the more bold once the housemaid arrives and begins to make clear just how much she really doesn't seem terribly interested in the family she is tasked with caring for. She kills rats out in the open, harbors secrets, and inevitably tears herself into the world like a being possessed. It is not about the affections of the piano teacher, but rather what he represents; an illusion of security and community acceptance. And even as the film's emotional pitches reach almost absurdly operatic heights, there's a very real sense that the apolitical Ki-young is highlighting an attraction to a perpetually unfulfilling lifestyle where all that gathers is material, and little else. Working their souls and bodies to ruin in the name of something that offers no respite, and even less love, Housemaid cuts deep into what Ki-young must have seen somewhere on the horizon, and what we are perhaps just barely becoming aware of..a hell of our own making.

Mother (2009) Movie Review

It almost never fails to happen. One takes in a number of recent works by some of the industry's most overpaid to create some of the most lackluster works highlighting as quality, only to take shots at a viewer's pride and intelligence. Sometimes it's so much that the feeling of love one has for film \slowly comes into question. And no sooner into this almost spirit-breaking streak does this malaise experience a break. A light amidst darkness that reminds one of the promise of film, of the power such a medium can hold upon a viewer. The ability to enrapture and beguile in ways not unlike great music, poetry, painting, sculpture, etc. Sometimes all it takes is an unerring spirit, a vision, and sincerity to make a genre work shine amidst the pack. Which is why this reviewer feels more than overdue for a neuro-exam for not catching Bong Joon-ho's 2009 mystery piece, Mother sooner.

Going back to the territory of small town life in rural South Korea, Bong Joon-ho's film seems to be taking the public view of life he so beautifully captured in his 2003 breakthrough, Memories Of Murder, and weaves a tale that not only surpasses this film, but completes a vision of life that while familiar, is alien enough to encourage the most ardent filmgoer to dream harder when looking for material of this ilk, and thereby raising the bar for atmosphere, coupled with masterful storytelling.

A nameless widow & quiet small town herb-seller (Kim Hye-ja in a deeply affecting performance)is sucked into a world of danger after her mentally challenged son (the equally astonishing Won Bin) is accused of the murder of a teenage girl. Driven by seemingly harried/indifferent(okay,try incompetent) police, and even less concerned legal assistance, the mother begins her own investigation into proving the innocence of her son. And what unfolds is something that takes the best elements of a Miss Marple tale caught in a rapidly growing tire fire, while the ghost of Hitchcock doles out the gasoline. It is a uniquely spellbinding experience that works, simply due to all cylinders being well cleaned and prepared to race.

The script penned by Joon-ho & Park Eun-kyo not only has an ear for what makes a strong spin on the detective tale, but also of the lives of each character, making the tapestry of intrigue & deception so much more delicious. Especially when considering a small town so used to conviction based on hearsay. The world of our central character is inhabiting can only bolster her resolve, making each revelation seismic in potency. And this would not have worked without the ultimate ingredient, which is the array of performances on display Kim Hye-ja has been a mainstay of Korean television for decades, and shines in a startling shift in tone to her usual portrayals. It is clear that this character means so much to Joon-ho, and she drives the film with irresistible sensitivity, and power. We're in the pit, and sinking deeper with her, feeling the need to be vindicated along with her as the story unfolds, regardless of where the mystery deepens, which is often in some disturbingly unexpected ways. Which also leads to the impressive performance of Won Bin as the accused, his Do-joon is both worthy of irritation as well as sympathy, making it the perfect destabilizing factor as his memories of the night in question are foggy at best. It is in this relationship that Mother truly goes for broke as the world ever seems set against them.

Also worthy of note is Joon-ho's careful use of the entire visual palette, further expanding the seemingly desolate world he explored previously in an 80s period piece. This time around, the backgrounds are every bit a larger part of the film's emotional base, which gives South Korean small town life an at-times disparaging beauty that must remain seen in full scope to be appreciated. From landscapes of dilapidated homes, to busy downtown scenes, it is truly a wonder to drink it all in. And for a film that seemingly doesn't require digital effects, the need was likely there, but it isn't in any way noticeable. The collaboration here with cinematographer, Hong Kyeong-pyo must be noted as another star in the film as the town itself becomes a most important character.

And while it would do a disservice to dispel any further plot information, it must be stated that what occurs in the second hour can be compared to anything major to happen to the mystery/suspense genre as Joon-ho seems to have mastered the craft in only a few films. As his previous family in peril/political satire-cum kaijyu-tribute The Host(2005) can attest, he is a filmmaker of extreme sensitivity to family devotion, and difficult plot twits. And these powers are in complete control here as the revelations begin to amass towards an emotionally pulverizing climax on par with the greats. It is no exaggeration that Mr. Joon-ho is in fact a world-class filmmaker at the height of his abilities with Mother, and the cinema loving community should welcome him with ever greater embrace with this haunting jewel of a piece.