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.


  

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) Movie Thoughts

Often the very best genre has to offer is rife with text that is either telling of its time, or universal in its themes. They emphasize greater concerns in broad swings and strokes in the guise of popcorn diversion. This is even better when the whole is wrapped in an effective character drama that carefully just enough depth and enthusiasm to support the main idea's foundations. Now imagine my jaw hitting my lap as I caught the latest Marvel production, only to be stricken by just how big a leap they have taken. It's officially now hard to call where making a new Marvel movie constitutes "business as usual". When your second film centered on one of the most spiritually milquetoast of its roster hits on all cylinders, it becomes a truly baffling case of "where to now?"The megabudget film debut of Community's Russo Brothers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, is much more than your now expected superhero checklist with A-list stars. It is a sincerely thrilling & effective action piece, with the best understanding of what superheroes can be in the movies.


As Marvel Studios has taken some bold steps in the wake of The Avengers(2012), their return to the life of long asleep super-soldier Steve Rogers is rife with revelation. The beloved boy scout has been spending his days post New York taking orders and defending his ideals through SHIELD. Ever the busybody, and rarely with time to settle down, his catching up with the modern world has begun to hit some murky waters. After a mission to liberate an overtaken SHIELD vessel at sea, his own faith in what he does is placed into doubt. Even after taking it up with his superior, Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson in his best showcase with this character-period,), who lets him in on their organization's biggest defense plan to date, his concern over the morality of his own actions weighs heavily. This upcoming Project Insight seems bent on "stopping threats before they happen", to the point of almost unnerving levels. And it isn't long before matters spiral out of control when it becomes clear that even Fury cannot seem to trust his superiors.


Something awful has overtaken the security monolith over time. And the future of it, and (naturally) the world are in for some grave danger unless Rogers, occasional partner, Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) , and newfound friend, Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) can devise a means of stopping it.


Further complicating matters, remnants of Rogers' past are about to return in force - and is a heartbreaking, terrifying one.


Loosely based on years of Captain America stories (most notably the works of Ed Brubaker), TWS is perhaps the best possible synthesis of classic superhero drama with the carefully executed topical and character fireworks required. Written by Christopher Markus & Stephen McFeely, the stakes are made all the more potent by way of never forgetting Steve Rogers' life as a dutiful soldier out of his element. That his ideals and still-risible innocence has yet to be tarnished by the greyness of the current day. That he is representative of a world where anyone can strive to be good, even as the fog threatens. Before things slip into a desperate run and search for answers, we gather how much he has learned about our current time, and even finds kinship in unusual places. Most representative of his philosophical spectrum comes from his connections with Sam, also a war veteran who helps at the VA hospital with traumatized soldiers, his growing trust with the often evasive Natasha, and even his brushes with Fury. The backbone of the entire film relies heavily on these bonds/rifts as the world seems on the brink of outright paranoia, and circular logic. Trust, and the role of soliders lies at the heart of TWS, and it often hits these notes with the rare precision that most films of this scale fail to.


And due to such a careful script, we are also hosted to some of the best performances yet for a Marvel piece. There is no exaggeration in saying that the film's moral weight lies in how Steve Rogers is portrayed, and to say that Chris Evans has embodied him is an understatement. Everything from his quiet moments, to his comedic, to action beats, he is unerring. It's a truly spirited performance. Scarlett's return as Rogers' co-worker/friend, Romanoff is easily her best work to date. With several quiet moments shared here, it's pretty clear that this is a character who has long lived many lives, and is faced with becoming her truest self while the world seems ready to disintegrate. It's well-nuanced, and empowering character work for her. Also, Jackson's Fury is both frustrating and human. A perfect moral foil for Evans. Also worth noting is Robert Redford, who's take on Alexander Pierce, head of SHIELD, is gravity granting, Mackie's Wilson (AKA- Falcon), who makes for an impressive new ally, friend, and thematic bridge, not to mention Cobie Smulders and Emily VanCamp, who deliver solid work. So much seed planting here, in a film that seems hellbent on shaking up the game board. It's enough to make all players tweak their amplitude to impressive levels.


More than merely shoehorning the political text in ways that most major films have done recently, there is meat here that smacks of better grilling. With the NSA/surveillance themes right up front, there was a sense of worry that came over me during the initial viewing that were alleviated as the character work filled in the gaps. Crossing philosophies of varying eras is a smart move in a story about soldiers, and their role in world affairs. And even as the horrific ultimate plan is revealed, it is done so with just enough reminders that this is a moving comic book. It knows when to pull in deep, then release. This is the film, Star Trek Into Darkness so badly wanted to be. 


Not merely a stylistic shift from the adventure fantasy period piece that was The First Avenger(2012), The Winter Soldier, is a bold, hard action drama with a greater emphasis on story than has yet been attempted. Now that the first film works as prologue, this one feels ready to dish out the kind of haze and conflict that only makes the Steve Rogers character so effective. It truly feels as if the minds at Marvel knew what kind of mileage they could get out of him: Placed him in our current milieu, and watch him struggle, learn, and change. So when we see him taking on adversaries with the kind of hand-to-hand action that would make the cast of The Raid take notice, it feels reasoned and natural. When the action comes, it is well-choreographed & intense, always supportive of the story, with zero fat, and the stakes are emotionally clear.


The Russos want it to be very clear; The Cap is in for the fight of his life.


It may not sound like a big deal, but to consider where these films have come since the days of Iron Man, this is a bold shift. While the tone here is much darker, and more character driven than usual, this is well balanced with the kind of levity one expects from the comic book world. Perhaps more than most of its kind, The Winter Soldier knows how to dance between tones and moods, making for one brisk and thought-provoking ride. Not merely a great superhero film, it is a solid, important reminder of what the blockbuster can be.


(Recently heard word that Marvel has films planned for as far out as 2028 - Big talk. Count me out soon, TWS is a very hard act to follow.)

Thematic Wanderings: Garden Of Guilt

Upon taking the much-neglected time to digest Zexcs's singularly unique TV adaptation of Shuzo Oshimi's Aku No Hana, it occurred to me that there are bizarre parallels to be made with a personal favorite Kurosawa film, which yields enough space for consideration of a certain societal focus. In the Flowers narrative, we have a bookish, socially withdrawn young man, Takao, who finds himself at the center of a gut-twisting after-school triangle as a sociopathic classmate threatens to out him for an indiscretion regarding his classroom crush, Saeki. Having been unable to resist the temptation to take her gym clothes home with him, the plaguing within his already troubled mind is exacerbated by the meeting of one Nakamura, a girl clearly overflowing with dangerous impulses, and even greater unpredictability, lets him into her lurid world under threat of exposure. All based on a single act, the three are eventually bound together in a cycle of ever intensifying psychosexuality, carrying implications not only for these characters, but perhaps all around them. But what really captured me about this lurid tale of young love gone horribly wrong, was how oddly it carries faint echoes of one of Japan's most enduring crime dramas, Akira Kurosawa's Stray Dog(1949).

As much a tale of the sprawling chaos of post WWII Japan as it is the tense drama of one young homicide detective's desperate search for his stolen firearm. As the harried former soldier, and greenhorn detective, Murakami, Toshiro Mifune portrays a man consumed by his own increasing sense of guilt over the loss of his Colt, carrying seven live rounds, now possibly in the hands of someone very dangerous. When he is offered the opportunity to join up with veteran detective, Sato (Takashi Shimura) to track down what could lead to a bust in the city's illegal gun trade racket, Murakami continues to lament and panic over what he feels if his own accidental complicity. While the more world weary Sato maintains belief that criminals are themselves far too gone, and therefore naturally evil, it is Murakami who finds himself empathizing with the explosion of criminality post war Japan has engendered. Endlessly worrying about his gun, and what has likely been done with it clouds his many decisions, and he eventually must grow to understand that his folly is something much smaller an element. As each lead and dead end takes the two cops toward their better understanding of the desperation inherent in Japanese society, the more it is made clear that Kurosawa is commenting that all of us are capable of moral equilibrium, and that noone is a moustache-twirling evil-doer, but often good people cornered into making bad decisions. This is no more better encompassed in the film than by way of  who is discovered to be the film's central antagonist, the little seen, but often regarded Yusa(Isao Kimura). A young man who's crush on a local dancer has led him down darker, more troublesome paths due to the intervention of our leads. Each choice becoming more spastic than the last, even though we hardly see this character, we are clearly understanding of his feelings as economic disparity and Murakami's own concerns are reflective of his own internal  struggles. Both Murakami and Yusa eventually represent the younger eyes of a Japan that has seen its pride stripped, and choices narrowed, often to the point of being unable to reconcile with a growing lean on artifice and commercialism, as opposed to united community. At the end of the film, we see a balance between the live of this characters, and what it means for the overall future of Japan, something Kurosawa was clearly concerned about as the 1950s was approaching. 

Flash forward to Flowers' Takao, and his own troubles where he is for a mere moment, vulnerable to his own inner darkness, and must contend with this action endlessly as it is now a shared secret. Initially grabbing the gym clothes and bringing them home was bad enough, but to have the most volatile of classmates know of this, can only trip him up further on any voyage toward redemption, quiet or not. The clearly unstable, and often puzzling Nakamura contends that he must do as she says in order to maintain the secret. Matters are then put to frightening task when it turns out that the object of his affection (and requisite guilt), the beautiful Saeki, seeks his honest attentions, thereby increasing danger levels tenfold. And while Takao cannot believe his good fortune, it is constantly marred by Nakamura's endlessly disturbing demands. (even to the point of forcing him to wear the aforementioned gym clothes under his own during a first date) Even as he intends to do right by his sudden luck, the moment of weakness from before has now become a soul stain that has no intention of going away. And even as he continues to come home late due to staying out with the insistent Nakamura, tension is mounting as the three have now found themselves in a bind that seems destined to combust at any moment.

This is where I can somewhat see a connection between both works, even if the gulf spans between so many things that it could quite easily be dismissed. Forgiving the fact that we're making parallels between an anime circa 2013, and a 1949 feature film, there is an emphasis on characters finding themselves forced into a corner by way of the procurement/loss of an object, which is then intensified by the intervention of an outside quantity. As the objects in question could not be more divergent, it could be said that they intersect in meaning by way of them representing a means of escape, a means of sloughing off a feeling of general unease about the outside world and the pressure it imbues on all who live in it. In the case of Stray Dog, it is more directly a means of getting something in order to hopefully gain the affections of another, while in Flowers, it is a subterranean, morally broken means of getting closer to another. Both objects representing a desperate need to connect, and yet capable of breaking such potential to both their intended and those around. Where the gun is made to destroy life, the gym clothes are more of a social poison, re-purposed and capable of almost psychically harming more than a few mental images. And as both Takao and Yusa do their best to rectify their mistakes, it is clearer and clearer that perhaps they themselves have gone too far, and that redemption can only come through nothing less than violence, anguish, and shame.

For the future, or what little remains.

And after all this, acknowledging the contrasts ultimately highlights something far more challenging; the overall focus and concerns inherent in the lives of these characters, and what it means to a culture as a whole. Stray Dog's Tokyo, is a sprawling, overburdened, burnt out husk of a city teeming with the disadvantaged and discarded. It is a borderline document of a time when a nation was in most need of identity and solidarity, where those who would fall through the cracks would find themselves in terrible places, often seeing no way out. The tale of Murakami and Yusa is one of seeing deep into the abyss, and realizing that choice remains eternal. That our better selves is always an option, especially as the young continue to enter the picture. This is almost diametrically opposed in Flowers, a vision that represents a small city growing isolated under its once vibrant opulence, a shell of its former self. Takao questions why the city is buried in rust, and sees himself equally soiled by its inherent brokenness. Even as the town offers up a diversity of people and ideas, and even before the gym clothing episode, he clearly has had no real connection to others, possibly even to his family. The skulking relationship between he and Nakamura is akin to acknowledging that within the sixty-plus years in between these works, that something has failed massively, and that the abyss has indeed enveloped everyone. Even as the show's presentation shares with it the tenets of anime, the aim of the rotoscoping animation is clearly intended to work in opposition to what the medium has become. It is ready to point out the reality, instead of the fantasy so many otaku seem confined to as their surrogate school days. Flowers is a mirror to the now, a gaze into the future - and it is far from promising.

Rain Washed: Tsukamoto's A Snake Of June Brought This On..

Feeling like a hostage in my own domicile as the rain continues to pound the Long Beach area with the now expected fervor, and unwelcome cold. When the east coast gets this, the become snowed in, for us, we just grin, bear it, not to mention bear a fearful populace doing their thing while driving. And yet on another level, such a troublesome downpour can also have a positive, almost healing effect. Those who know me, also know that I am a bit of an ambient sound enthusiast, often with his own playlist of all manner of aural business going on throughout the night's dreamtime. Perhaps even inspired by things as primal as the sound of a running shower, the very notion of water, making its power known over even the most technically/socially advanced civilization.

Which is possibly why such a simple thing helps remind me of films & pieces of art that utilize the natural elements as a metaphorical part of their fabric. Having realized that Shinya Tsukamoto's 2002 excursion into sexual psychology, A Snake Of June was to be a decade old, I had to pop in my copy to re-evaluate my feelings on it, as well as to compliment the way things were sounding outside. Perhaps even more than another personal favorite, Blade Runner, Snake not only has the trademark of what makes Tsukamoto's earlier films truly surreal, it also harbors enough raw emotional honesty to make it into a compelling treatise on how we manage our daily lives within such cramped, constrained physical and emotional spaces. And the rain, coupled with the film's deliberate chromatic blue tint that gives me vibes of living in the greater Los Angeles area. We may seem to be where all the activity, technology, and progressive action takes place, but throw in something as innocuous as a torrential downpour, and everything seems primed to change with naturally calibrated speed and ferocity.

Much like a pressure valve, the rain seems to be something of a grand reminder of the things we take for granted. It serves to not only inform us of how little control we have, and reiterate what it is that truly comforts and distresses us. It's a thrill to confront that which terrifies us not only about the outside, but of our very own natures. Which heavily informs why Snake continues to be a favorite. Much more than a treatise on Japanese repression, it is also a nature-borne poem that is all in service of the things we know we want, but fear having.