Conan the Barbarian: Blood-soaked allegory for Hollywood culture?

Conan, oh Conan, how misrepresented you are in the eye of the common man. Rather than the canny savage king with a cruel streak, you're often instantly associated with Ah-nuld's dopey and somewhat fuddly-cuddly performance. Though not a terrible movie by any stretch, a more apt title would have been something like "Ah-nuld: The Journey to the Land of California".

We open with Conan as a child, being told by his father that the only thing he can rely on in the entire world is steel. The next day Conan's entire village is massacred by the forces of a wizard with a snake-fetish who then sells the boy into slavery. While slaving about, he grows physically until one day he gos from child star with no future to Arnold-goddamn-Schwarzenegger. Arnie then proceeds to work as a gladiator, getting some education on the way. When his master lets him go (For reasons even the narrator finds vague) he proceeds to romp about the country-side, befriending some Asian dude with a bow and a reckless blonde. Oh and banging a demon-wench...who can see into the future!
A little ways later, Conan discovers that the wizard who slew everyone he held dear has turned his snake-fetish into a religion and is not only converting hordes of people, but sacrificing them to giant snakes. This does not sit well with our barbarian hero, and he sets out to avenge himself at long last.

Conan's childhood. Bad times all around.

"Conan the Barbarian" fits into the same category of film that all those early Indiana Jones movies are deeply entrenched within. It's a perfectly serviceable slice of Hollywood action-adventure that unfortunately, doesn't have much going for it on any level other than the surface. I think once you're past a certain age (Or have seen hundreds upon hundreds of sodding movies) films like Conan just don't rightly entertain as much as it obviously purports to.

The film does have things going for it. The opening sequence, the aforementioned massacre, is quite the spectacle. Almost operatic in how over the top it is. James Earl Jones is also fantastic (If ill-costumed) as Conan's nemesis, and Max Von Sydow has a great cameo. They're also some nice shots peppered throughout the film.
Unfortunately, apart from those two actors, the rest of the cast is pretty flat. Either playing straight up caricatures (Mako) or about as personable as bricks of butter (Ah-nuld and co.), the film really struggles to make you care about these characters. The writing isn't terrible per se, but one gets the impression that the best parts were likely ripped straight from Bob Howard's works and the rest were pieced together in between. I myself have yet to read anything he wrote...criminal I know...but that was my honest impression.
Mako also narrates about 90% of the goddamn movie in a fashion that is so grating on the nerves it detracts from the narrative flow. Especially since in the scenes where he does narrate, the imagery were shown is pretty much telling us exactly what he's blathering on about.

Remember kids. This fellow was GOVERNOR.

Now, there was something that hit me as being supremely strange about Conan this time through. Prior to this I'd only seen it in bits and pieces over the years, barring my initial viewing at the age of nine. Back when I was blind to sub-text or the hallowed art of finding sub-text where none was really intended.
Conan struck me as being less about Conan and more about Hollywood and possibly the entrance of Schwarzenegger upon American movie-making soil. About halfway through the film, our heroes are given a quest. A king offers them riches beyond their wildest dreams in return for tracking down his daughter who's run off to join Jones' snake cult. When Conan finally crashes the party, it turns out that these cultists spend their days seemingly oblivious to the real world or engaging in really sketch orgies.

Sound familiar at all? I couldn't help thinking of the typical story trope (Often found in tales of lurid crime) where a bright young gal runs off to Hollywood to become a star, only to be exploited or get involved with exotic drugs and scary parties that involve wild animals for fornicatin' with. The father hires a private detective and implores that he and his cohorts track her down. Although, it could simply be that I was so bored with the film that I remaking it into something marginally more interesting in my head. However, combined with the Californian brand of sleaziness the film seems to purvey and the fact that Olive Stone co-wrote the screenplay, I wouldn't be surprised if it really was attempting to represent the darker annals of Hollywood culture as a swords and sorcery epic.

Oh, and to John Milius, the director. Pro-tip dude, don't use normal household dogs to represent feral beasts and barbarian attack dogs. Rottweilers in a time after the fall of Atlantis? Real immersion breaker dude.
 If you're a ten year-old boy and you haven't seen this, you'll adore it. Otherwise, you might want to be drunk while watching. It would definitely enhance your viewing experience in this case.

In fact, you might be better off watching this rather than the actual movie:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBGOQ7SsJrw

Personally, I find it better.

Thees ees my band. We are called "THE DESTROYUHS"!

Vampires: John Carpenter for the meat & potatoes audience.

Disclaimer: Despite the title, I don't necessarily disdain schlocky entertainment. Hell, as I think I've mentioned already (Maybe not?) I think "Con-Air" is a masterpiece of sorts and I really enjoyed the hell outta "The Expendables". However, "Vampires" is thoroughly mediocre. It managed to re-awaken a very particular hunger within me. A hunger for something actually GOOD...preferably pre-1960's.

James Woods stars as Jack Crow, the trash-talking leader of a gang of vampire-slaying biker-dudes who work for the Vatican. After a successful vampire-massacre they manage to run afoul of a vampire "master" who's more than a little peeved that his home was wrecked by a bunch of faux Hell's Angels. He returns the favor leaving only Jack and his buddy Montoya (Played by one of the "other" Baldwins) alive and hungry for vengeance. Vampire-ized hooker in tow (Coz she's got a psychic connection to the master, ya dig?) they set out on their Southern-fried quest to kick vampire ass.

They really REALLY wanna kill some goons.

This movie is trashy. It feels less a John Carpenter film and more like something Robert Rodriguez would cook up. Sure the typical Carpenter "Working class schlub faces down the forces of evil and MAYBE triumphs!" ethos is going on, but it lacks the usual incisive commentary or creepy atmosphere  the best Carpenter films sport. It also seemingly attempts to give a grittier take on the tired concept of the vampire, but only really succeeds in feeling even more rote. Of course, it was made in the Nineties, but even with that in mind it STILL feels like something that had been done to death by then.

Of positive note though, the camera-work is really nice. They're some great shots and the editing's fairly solid. In the acting department, James Woods is fun if solely because every one of his sentences is pretty much "Fuck that" or "Motherfuck this" or even better "Fucking fucking motherfucking fuck fuckity FUCK YOU VAMPIRE!" Daniel Baldwin pretty much does the same, but isn't quite as good at being a dick as Woods is. On the bad side of the cast, positioned atop the throne for things awry with this film is Thomas Ian Griffith as Valek, the aforementioned master vampire. Though his character being unbearably cornball was no doubt aided by the make-up and whoever instructed the actors playing vampires on how to act "Vampire-ish".

It also doesn't help the film that it's uber-powerful villain looks like a taller and less meat-faced Tommy Wiseau. Sheryl Lee of "Twin Peaks" fame stars as well as the vampire prostitute, but she spends about 90% of the film being punched, called a bitch, and staring at the camera super intense-like when receiving psychic visions from Wisea-urm, Valek.

Oh hi Mark.

All in all, "Vampires" is entertaining but almost not worth the hour and forty-eight minutes it takes to run. If you're looking for a silly action/horror fix with some chuckle-worthy gore and vaguely laughable performances, then you may be satisfied. Otherwise, stick with Carpenter's earlier works. If you're a vampire movie aficionado and want something modern, well, you could do worse. Much much worse....

Like THIS much worse....

Le Cercle Rouge: A heist film par excellence.

BOLD STATEMENT WARNING! TURN BACK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE....!
Ahem..."Le Cercle Rouge" is the heist movie to end all heist movies. A steely-cold tale rife with a certain subtle melancholia accentuated by an infatuation with predestination and fatalism. It's a movie populated by noble men with unspoken codes of honor and wounded pasts, and it's goddamn beautiful.

The film opens with a Buddhist epigraph (Concocted by the director) concerning predestination, and how when men meet, they will inevitably meet within "The Red Circle". We are then presented with two seemingly unrelated threads. Corey (Played by the devilishly cool Delon) is an imprisoned con given a deal by a crooked prison guard. He'll let him out a year early if he participates in the robbery of a jeweler he's got insider info on. Corey agrees and is unleashed upon the world.

Our other thread concerns a criminal named Vogel and his current keeper Inspector Mattei. Vogel's being transported to an unspecified destination where he'll likely be found guilty of whatever crime he committed. He manages to make a daring escape and strikes out through the French countryside, leaving Mattei with virtually nothing to go on. Despite this, Mattei seems nonplussed, as though he's fairly certain he'll have a run in with his prey at a later time.
And thus, the wheels of fate begin to turn. The more the viewer watches, the more inescapable the ultimate fate of the characters involved becomes.

 Presented in a palette of washed out colors, "Le Cercle Rouge" looks cool, temperature wise and in terms of it's style. Blue, grey, white, and black dominate every locale, the way the characters dress and the interiors of all the buildings we are presented with. One could argue that the set decorator was possibly afflicted with melancholia, if it didn't seem so deliberate.

The characters themselves are just as cool. Delon plays Corey like a more charming (Maybe more human) version of Jeff from "Le Samourai". Sure he's a crook and he won't hesitate to plug someone if they threaten his freedom, but he seems a gentleman robber of sorts, as though he's part of a dying breed. Mattei is wonderfully played by Andre Bourvil, who's somehow the sweetest policeman to ever be put on film (Watch for his brief stop at home, where he panders to his three cats). Though he's essentially the antagonist, you'd be hard-pressed to find a more sympathetic antagonist in any form of fiction. Yves Montand is strong as an alcoholic ex-cop who joins Delon's gang. It's also thanks to his ailment that the audience is treated to a rather vivid nightmare sequence that gives me further grounds for not trusting my closet.

Oh, and they're process shots. WIN!

Throughout the course of the movie, the viewer learns more and more about the men warring against one another. Little snippets of their pasts are muttered here and there and if one pays attention, the objects and photographs within their respective abodes hint at loves lost and past lives long gone. It becomes evident near the end that all these men are connected by the proverbial red circle. Whether it's the thing that binds them or the thing they're trapped within, I'm unsure, but it certainly separates them from "normal" humanity.

Thus what we witness seems to play out on a mythic scale, despite it's somewhat low-key nature. All the characters involved within the story haven't been heading towards the red circle, they've been within it's boundaries all along. The ending of the movie is naught but the ultimate conclusion of this fact. If you're living in a film by Jean-Pierre Melville, your destiny is inescapable, so buck up buddy.

White Hunter Black Heart: Days of yore resonate evermore.

Oh Hollywood. Once you produced films of such caliber that every other country's film-makers aspired to emulate you. Even countries that were aligned against the U. S. of A. attempted to usurp Hollywood in terms of film-making prowess. Nowadays, Hollywood is the last place anyone looks to for anything genuinely good. I bring this up, not because "White Hunter Black Heart" paints Hollywood as utterly banal and bereft of humanity, though it pokes fun at it. I bring it up because it's most certainly the plight (Perhaps not the central plight) of John Wilson, the film's protagonist.
Or maybe I'm full of shit and he was simply too much of a rebel to conform to something like the studio system. He being John Huston, who if he's anything like Eastwood portrays him to be, was a real rabble-rousing wild man.

"White Hunter Black Heart" takes place in the late forties or early fifties (It's never specified when the events in it take place, but considering that "The African Queen" was released in '52, I don't think I'm far off). Jeff Fahey stars as the starry-eyed Pete Verrill, struggling writer and close comrade of famous trouble-making director John Wilson (Eastwood). Wilson's set to shoot a film in Africa and he wants Pete to touch up the script for him and come with to the mysterious dark continent. Once there, it seems that Wilson orchestrated the whole shoot so he can go on Safari in hopes of bagging himself an elephant. This of course, leads to friction between he, his friends and his producers.

Clint! LOOK BEHIND YOU!

This is one meaty movie. Whether it's dealing in movie-making politics, racism, or simply the ever-changing modern-world, a feeling of history permeates the whole film. You get a sense that the characters in it are perched on the precipice of a huge shift in the ways things are going to be done world-wide. Whether they're ready for it (The producer of the film) or seem able to adapt (Verrill) or are straight up going to be left in the dust (Many of the British in Africa) is not something the audience is shown, but is definitely foreshadowed.
Wilson himself is a timeless sort of man, a man who is always out of his time. He refuses to conform to any form of compromise to the extent of burning bridges and wreaking emotional havoc on those around him. He's also absurdly charming and full of laughs, but a loner nonetheless. The rogue artist, pushing the boundaries not only of his art but of the people about him. His maddening quest to kill an elephant is not something driven by spite for any wild animal, but by a spite for a society that would allow such a thing. If he can do it, then he will, regardless of the sacrifice involved. Or so it seems throughout most of the film.

This film, though a fictionalization feels very close to John Huston. In terms of story-telling and the way it's shot, it manages to evoke the feel of his films. Eastwood is fabulous in his portrayal of the man, giving what has to be my favorite of his performances. The film is a tad ponderous at times, though it never meanders. It also undergoes some interesting shifts in polarity where even the most annoying or reprehensible of characters seem sympathetic in the end when faced with the somewhat destructive presence of Wilson.

Verrill himself acts as a foil for Wilson. Whereas to begin with he seems like a stick in the mud, as the film progresses his rationale gains more and more credibility. The central argument throughout the film really boils down to a brief quibble the two have early on about the ending of the script, and by the end Verrill's point is made manifest by the harsh reality of our world. Sometimes, dwelling on the supposedly inherent darkness of man will leave you with naught but despair. And what good despair when one wishes to produce art?

And so, the shoot commences.

Drive Angry: Nick Cage loses his temper with mixed results.

Now, I love me some Nick Cage. He's called a hack and people tend to sneer at the mere mention of his name, but boy is he fun to watch. I mean come on, "Con-Air"? "The Rock"? "Adaptation"? Those are all bloody classics! So needless to say, from the moment I saw the trailer for "Drive Angry", I was very much excited for what seemed an insane Cage-fest.
Unfortunately the end result is pretty meh.

"Drive Angry"'s hero is Milton (Subtle, no?), an ex-con who escapes from the depths of Hell in order to avenge his daughter against the Satanic cult that sacrificed her and rescue her baby daughter from the very same cult. Standing in his was is a Hell-sent being known as "The Accountant" (Played by William Fichtner, who for reasons beyond me, tilts his head every five seconds in every scene he's in) and Jonah King, the maniacal long-nailed femur-bone-cane wielding leader of the cult. Along the way he picks up a rowdy Southern gal named Piper who stays along for the gore-spattered ride.

We can only hope that Cage pulled this very same gun on his agent moments after the film premiered.

Now, this movie falls into that unfortunate category that many "exploitation" films of the past half-decade seem to curl up in. It desperately wishes it was made in the Seventies, but only manages to ape the style and mood of such films. Whereas exploitation films from that era, no matter how bad, had some sort of point to make (Or to horribly misconstrue, thus resulting in hilarity), "Drive Angry" really has nothing going for it in that department. It simply hooks into the over-the-top aspect of these films and delivers only that. Hell, for a movie called "Drive Angry" there weren't even many car-combat scenes.

Nicholas Cage, rather than over-act a storm, plays Milton stone-faced and rather blandly. Whether he be lazily dodging thrown cutting implements or dropping one-liners in monotone, his expression is perpetually near-blank. The fellow who plays Jonah King (Imma not even going to bother looking up his name) has to be seen "acting" to be believed. I'm not even sure what the writers intended with the character and he seems like he may have been much improved if someone like Jemaine Clement played him rather than the dude they picked. Then he would have at least seemed genuinely quirky! He's like a David Lynch character who was tossed into a washing machine with some bad Vertigo comic books. Here and there are some amusing cameos as well, but they only served to make me wish I was watching something else these guys had starred in, if anything.

Please let this guy never star in anything again.

The film's action doesn't even really deliver, and this film being all about the action, it pretty much can't hold itself up. Now, I despise 3D, I really don't see anything beneficial about it. It doesn't make me feel any more immersed in a film, in fact it detracts. Unfortunately, "Drive Angry" was built specifically as a 3D vehicle and it shows. It shows in the horribly CG'ed blood, in the pointless zoom-ins on bullets and badly rendered backgrounds when the actors swerve about in their cars. I was really hoping the 3D wouldn't be a big deterrent, but in the end, it did mar my experience.

Once again going back to the "Je ne sais quoi" of low-budget films from Cinema history's past, "Drive Angry" lacks something that "Hobo with a Shotgun" and to a lesser extent "Machete" had in spades. Rebellious anger, a lot of heart, and a point to make. Sure, "Machete" was far too long and fell apart about half-way through, but damn was it ever better than "Drive". If anything "Drive Angry" feels more derivative of recent Rodriguez efforts than the road-carnage films of the Seventies. It's almost as though Lussier (The Director, I can't be bothered to look up his full or proper name) learned second-hand through Rodriguez and Tarantino about B-movie cinema and simply copied their styles, thinking it would give "Drive" a genuine feel. Boy does it ever not.

In the end, I did finish the film. I can't say I wasn't entertained enough to warrant sitting through it until the end, but in a way I almost regret bothering with it. Even as a one-off "Lets watch something shitty tonight!" kinda movie, it's lamentable. In the realm of bad movies that are so bad you're left with a movie-hangover that causes you a massive headache for an hour or so, "Drive Angry" is the equivalent to the kind of hangover that leaves your brain feeling sodomized. Watch at your own peril.

Then again, you may consider this movie a magnum opus if you're a Hell's Angel with J.D. running through your veins rather than blood. Otherwise, you'd best steer clear.

Thor: A spot of epic tomfoolery.

This movie was awesome. So awesome, one feels the need to come up with new adjectives to describe it's sheer fantasticality (Like fantasticality for that matter). It's a superhero film in the tradition of "Superman" (The classic one) rather than it's contemporaries, bucking deconstruction of the superhero persona in favor of a rollicking good-natured romp. Plus, with Branagh at the helm as director, it's a sodding epic.

"Thor" is a tale of family first and foremost. In the Marvel universe, the Asgardians, rather than mythological deities of Norse origin, are a race of superhuman beings from a whole other galaxy. Many years prior to the film's commencement, they were pivotal in defeating the frost giants, thus saving Earth from another ice-age. Now they are naught but myths to us, having decided to not interfere with Earthly affairs since then.
Thor is the heir to the Asgardian throne, but being a reckless and arrogant sonovabitch, his father, Odin, hesitates to give up kingship to him. His gloomy brother Loki, seeing fallacy in Thor's brash arrogance, orchestrates events that gets the lad exiled to Earth, where he must earn the right to wield Mjnolir, his super-hammer that allows him to smash evil into manifold bits. On Earth, Thor befriends a trio of science-y people, and all kinds of drama occurs in a most over the top fashion.

You can only wish you had a costume so absurd.

"Thor" is essentially everything you could ever want from a superhero movie. It's WAY over the top in terms of emotions and action. It's got some epic fight scenes along with overwrought interpersonal relations and even a rather cute romance. Throw in a sense of humor and you've got what's honestly one of the best comic book adaptations (At least from mainstream material) I've ever seen.
Chris Hemsworth has a great debut as Thor, I quite literally can't imagine seeing him in any other role (Maybe a bad thing?). Like, this guy was fucking BORN to play Thor. Hopkins, Hiddleston, Portman, Dennings, hell, pretty much everyone gives it their all, even in more minor parts! (Here's looking at you, Idris Elba)
The acting is definitely enhanced by the script and it's focus on the relationships between the characters. It's also refreshingly gray when it comes to morality, at least for a comic-book adaptation. Loki, though the antagonist, has reasons for what he's doing. Though his methods are ultimately wrong, you can't help but empathize with the guy. There are a few rote-ish moments here and there, but there's a genuine feel to them rather than a tacky one. "Thor" comes by it's cheesy bits honestly. Speaking of cheese, the costumes have to be seen to be believed, although, this being a film about SPACE-vikings, I found them rather apt.

Multiple times was the urge to make "HAMMER-TIME!" jokes resisted.

 Though pretty much made of pure fun, "Thor" does have a few itchy bits. Like "Iron Man 2" and "The Incredible Hulk" (For the record, "IM2" was fairly fun while "IH" can go suck it) it's got a bit of a "AVENGERS INCOMING" vibe that left me thinking "Yeah yeah, can we please go on with the movie?" This may or may not irk most people, but I personally found it a wee bit irksome. Why? Well, personally, I felt it detracted from the tale at hand. As if those scenes essentially declare the whole movie naught but an extended trailer for what else is to come. I know this statement will have some folks going "Well Ben! That's the point! Avengers is where it's at bro!", but honestly, MEH.
One also must go in with a willingness to utterly suspend their disbelief. This movie is pure comic-book silliness and what makes it great is how much Branagh embraces it. Prior to "Thor", Branagh had directed the likes of "Hamlet" and "Henry V". It's really no wonder with those titles in mind that he handles a comic-book tale such as this so well. Especially when one takes into account the fact that the Asgardians speak in faux-Shakespearian within the books. Shakespearian space-vikings? Family drama that leads to betrayal and politically minded attempts at murder? Right up his alley!

In summation, if you're looking for a fun time, look no further. I can only hope that later Marvel releases this summer will prove as awesome. It'll be hard for them to top "Thor" in my book...you know, the book that counts.

Kes: Most beautiful movie in the Cosmos?

This movie's overwhelming. I mean "Oh my God I've found out the meaning of life and now the tears won't stop flowing!" overwhelming. When I first read that it was listed in the British Film Institute's top ten British films of all time, I was skeptical. I blame my distrust of institutions, since if the BFI thinks that highly of "Kes", then they and I are most definitely in the same boat.

"Kes" is about a boy, Billy Casper. Billy lives with his mother and older brother Jud. Jud's a fucking monster, beating Billy for the most petty of things and having verbal dog-fights every five seconds with their mother. School-life is no better. Almost every single one of Billy's teachers seems to be merely a sadist masquerading under the guise of educating youth, like villains from Pink Floyd's "The Wall".
His life in the shitter, Billy finds reprieve when he manages to wrangle a young Kestrel outta it's mother's nest. Naming it Kes, he begins to train and raise the falcon, in effect finding something worthwhile in his seemingly bleak existence.

Kes, a little bashful before the camera, looks off to the side.

Beautiful, heart-breaking, and bloody powerful. Those three words come to mind when I think of "Kes"(Wait, is that four words? Snap). Be it the lead's performance (This kid has to be seen to be believed) or the unflinching terribleness of the way the characters treat one another, it all feels blisteringly real, almost mythical in quality. "Kes" reflects more about the human condition than hundreds of supposedly "emotionally riveting" Oscar-nominated dramas I've had the misfortune of seeing. In case you haven't gathered by how much I'm gushing, this movie is really something else.
The setting does much to give it that certain mythic quality I mentioned in the prior bit. I don't know about language in Northern England today, but in 1969 it still sounded like a indecipherable off-shoot of Old English. The rough-edged folk populating the movie speak in thou's and thee's and view physical abuse as a simple way of communicating with one another. They also seem one and all scoundrels, even the kinder characters lapsing into condescension or slappings. The coal mine and factories dominate Billy Casper's homeland, and yet they're still fields and woods all about. It truly seems a different era, despite having been filmed forty or so years ago.

Bloody fairytale ogre's. Those are the folks running the school, I tell ya.

"Kes" doesn't stop with simply being an emotional ride and capturing an era. It also exposes a criminal system. The children of the film aren't the only victims of the education system. The entire town's population is. In a very telling speech from the principal, he elaborates on how throughout the ages, boys never learn. He's not only about to give the strap to the students before him, but he's done so to their father's and older brother's before them. Is it any wonder the entire male populace seems to speak to one-another with emasculating insults and fisticuffs?
This can of course, be viewed as an attack on the whole of the system at the time. The schools were after all built around the idea of churning out disciplined workers for the factories and office's of England. What use for things like sentimentality or expression?

I can't say much more about "Kes" without suddenly launching into song about how much I adored certain scenes and how many tears came to my eyes, so I'll simply say this: Watch the bloody movie. I swear, it'll change you in some way, definitely for the better.

Oh, and also....

I saw "The Expendables". My viewing was a wee bit fractured though, so I've opted to not "review" it per se yet. I'll simply say that it was awesome. Awesome awesome awesome AWESOME. Awesome in the thirteen year-old boy seeing the bro-tastic action flick to end all brotasticality. Yeah.

I also saw "Batman: Under the Red Hood" twice. I'm still unsure as to why. 0_o

Deadpool!?!? In a DC movie? Damn, someone's gonna sue!...Okay, nerd humor. Sorry.

Germany Year Zero: What's bleak and German, yet directed by an Italian?

I've seen two Rossellini films now and the beginning of one. If all I've seen is any indication, he wasn't the happiest of men. Sure, he survived World War II and "The War Trilogy" (Which this film is part of) concerns itself with, well, WWII, but gads is "Germany Year Zero" despairing. Were talking real journey into the heart of despair stuff here.

Set immediately after World War II, in the skeletal remains of Berlin. The film follows thirteen year-old Edmund Kohler and the travails he goes through in order to merely scrape by with his family. Forced to room up with an incredibly callous and snobby family, the Kohler's are one and all caught up in their own woes. The father is dying and spends day in and day out lamenting the fact, complaining that he's a burden but practically leaping at any chance he gets to continue lying about. Edmund's brother Karl-Heinz is an ex-soldier who's yet to register with whatever board handled rations back then (Out of fear that his military past will get him locked up) and spends his time lounging around, looking harried. Eva, Edmund's sister, spends her nights out partying with G.I.'s, searching for any way she can to pass the time.
Thus, Edmund is left trying to hold this entire family aloft with his skinny boy-arms. A breaking of sorts seems inevitable with this set-up.

Germania's progeny.

This movie is like a sodding eulogy. It is so wracked with despair, it's hard to know where to even begin when it comes to illustrating how despairing it truly is. Early on there's a scene where Edmund passes by a crowd of people encircling a dead horse/cow/animal-thing. These people are so hungry they're actually fighting over the carrion and trying to cut hunks of it's flesh off. I mean, this is truly a decimated country were seeing.
The film looks phantasmal, as though someone dreamed of the fully realized potential of humanity caving in upon itself and splayed the dream across film. You get a sense that the German people haven't learned a thing from what happened to them, some even lament the fact that they can't use their electric driers or that there's no soap, while outside skeletal children are scampering about. There's an utter disconnect concerning what's truly happened and pride and various prejudices still run rampant. The children who stay full run about the streets whoring themselves out or swindling people out of whatever they can get, while not a single person is willing to offer a helping hand to those truly in need.

Feel good movie of 1948!

Of course, this effect, this ruthless darkness is achieved in part due Berlin's state at the time. The city is as important a character as Edmund himself is. It's one thing to see photographs, it's a whole other thing to see it live. Though a Neorealist film, "GYZ" has some downright expressionistic shots in it, owing in part to the feeling of death permeating the setting and the spare light in some night-time scenes. Even the day time scenes feel utterly grey.

The city, Edmund's family and the characters he interacts with seem representative of how Rossellini  viewed post-war Germany. Broken, perverse, and haunted by the phantom of a great evil only just vanquished from the Earth. Over the course of the tale, these things chip away at Edmund and mold him into something, a vision of Germany's future, and past. It feels as though he's the spirit of the nation, idealistic and fair-haired, looking for acceptance and love and yet finding himself forced to crawl deeper and deeper into the filth in order to glean it forth. The result is a drowning of sorts that results in despair all around.

A truthful interpretation of humanity in a low state? I think so.

Humanity's comeuppance and death-machine tourneys.

REVENGE!

Is exactly what Megalodon is getting in the above scene. Moments after surviving battleship cannons (And trashing said battleship), in an act of seeming retribution, Megalodon bites a chunk outta the Golden Gate Bridge.
Because that's the kinda movie "Mega-Shark VS Giant Octopus" is. A juvenile one.

The military conducts experiments with sonar. Whales go crazy and ram into a glacier, Megalodon and Giant Octopus are freed. They begin to rampage across the globe, sowing terror and destruction. Fearing it's the end of times, the US military turns to oceanographer Emma Macneil and her Irish mentor Lamar Sanders to help save the day. Oh, and they're helped by a token Asian scientist as well. go figure.
So, I don't think I even need to pick this film apart for anyone reading this. I mean, you're either going to watch it or not simply based on the fucking title. It pretty much tells you what you're in for. There's a big-ass shark, and it's fucking angry. There's also a big-ass cephalopod, and it's got attitude. There's also Lorenzo Lamas and he's got the pony-tail to end all pony-tails.

Talk revolves around what the possible meaning of the creatures is. "Have we pushed mother nature too far? Is this punishment for melting the polar ice-caps?" that kinda trite eco-friendly bullshit. Oh, and apparently the Japanese government likes imprisoning people on a lark, and all the Japanese speak English amongst one-another with thick accents. Coz that's just the kinda world were living in! God, what a bad movie. Good for a few laughs though, in fact, better than any recent comedy I can think of. I guess that says something about the populaces steady decline in actual sense of humor.

Carradine, realizing that he's starring in yet ANOTHER Corman film.

Now, while "Mega-Shark/Giant Octopus" was awkward-bad vaguely funny, Deathsport was fucking epic/bad uber-funny. Set after "The Great Neutron" wars, David Carradine stars as "Kazz Oshay". Kazz is a "range-guide" which in post apocalypse jargon must translate into "Ubermensch possessed of telepathic powers" since he pretty much plows through armed motorcycle battalions left right and center like nobodies business while transmitting thoughts to his costarlet.

Anyhoo, plot, plot, what's the plot? Well, a dictator named "Lord Zirpola" (High up on my list of redonkulous names) decides that he wants to spice up the Deathsport, a gladitorial competition he's enforced over the death penalty. His method for spicing up said game involves capturing range-guides and making them fight against Zirpola's "Death-Machines"...which are essentially silver-motorcycles with lasers attached to them.
Who is tasked with this most odious of duties? Ex range-guide Ankar Moor, a man with a grudge against his former brothers and sisters. Lots of laser's end up being fired, city's (Inexplicably) explode, and cheesy sex scenes abound.

I don't even know where to begin. In a way, there's a lot that can be said about Deathsport, but a lot that one might as well not say, since the film's own stupidity is implicit in the sodding title. The dialogue is something else, running the gamut of cliches such as "Now taste my blade!" to making attempts at faux-epic-ness by referencing past battles and making the fights portrayed seem like a big deal. Though, of course, it's hard to take any fight seriously when the swords are made of quartz..well..plastic. But at least they make zapping sound effects when they're sheathed!

All in all, if you want a great laugh, Deathsport's pretty hard to beat. The action's unbearably dumb and half the sets are backdrops. It lacks any socio-political commentary in contrast with it's spiritual prequel, "Deathrace 2000" and features a plot that seems pieced together by a twelve year-old who thinks Heavy Metal magazine is high literature, but all these horrible elements add up to something pretty special. Mega-Shark on the other hand is best left to re-runs on the SyFy channel.

In dire need of a mechanic.....

Mainstream action movies, that is. If "The Mechanic" is any indication, big budget American action movies no longer exist. They've been replaced by big budget Jason Statham movies.

I won't explain how it happened, but I ended up taking "The Mechanic" home last night. I thought that for better or worse, I could turn my brain off and indulge in something fairly trite, but at the very least entertaining. What I got wasn't even that. Less than thirty minutes into it, I had to stop.
All the empty platitudes concerning being "different" and being "professional" were bandied about. Donald Sutherland was essentially paid to come on screen, swear a bunch, then feature in a gimmicky action scene. A really porno-tastic sex scene was preceded by a "courting" (I can only assume that's what the producers/director think it was) that actually played out like a cologne ad.
And Mr. Statham?
I've seen fucking garbage cans that looked more brooding and emotionally overwrought. Seriously, stick to the tough guy routine. I sometimes wonder why I bother holding out hope that something stupid made in this day and age can at least be "fun". Gone are the glory days of "The Rock" and "Con-Air". Now we get five different films, three of which usually star Jason Statham, a sodding year.

Fucking dreadful, no?

Feelin' Fantastic.

I saw "Fantastic Mr. Fox" for what was roughly the eighth time recently. It's one of those films that, no matter how dire things get, it somehow manages to renew my faith in humanity. Wes Anderson movies tend to have this effect on me. Though, out of all his movies, this is the one I've seen numerous times. Why?

Maybe I've simply got a weak spot for foxes.

Black Death: Plagued by poor story choices.

This movie is fucking disappointing. There, I said it. I spent a few months practically drooling over promotional material for it, stabbing myself in the gut whenever I was reminded that I missed it at Fantasia and saw something else less memorable. Well, now I've seen it, and boy do I have issues with it. Accuse me of ranting if you will, but read on and you may see some credence in what I have to say. Or not.

Set in 1349, "Black Death" chronicles the woeful tale of a monk named Osmund. People are dying by the score (Needless to say) due to the black death and fearing for the life of his beloved, Osmund tells his lady-friend Avril to flee into the outlying woods. He then prays to God to provide and opportunity for him to escape the monastery, and lo and behold, Ulric (Sean Bean) a crazed witch-hunting knight shows up. In need of an escort to lead he and his men to a village where the dead are reputed to be coming back to life, Sean Bean ends up recruiting eager Osmund for the journey. Little does..little Osmund know the nightmare that awaits! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ah, young love in Plague-infested Europe. What could possibly go wrong?

Now, this movie's story is great, but it's horribly executed. Throughout my viewing of the film, I tried to deny to myself that this was a weak-point, telling myself over and over again that I liked the character, that the film wasn't mediocre, it couldn't be after I spent so long lusting after it! But here it is.
Osmund is a sodding horrible viewpoint character.
Told from his naive boyish point of view, it's obvious the director was opting for a tale of innocence lost, a blood-soaked coming of age story about a loss of humanity in the face of man's evil towards other men. It doesn't work because pretty much every character in the marauding group of witch-hunters is just a damn sight more interesting than wee Osmund. In fact, his character likely would have been all the more interesting IF his gradual descent into madness was viewed through the eyes of the other characters.
Now, Sean Bean's Ulric is a bloody interesting character, and it feels like an incredibly wasted opportunity for the film to not be told from his point of view. This felt painfully apparent from almost the moment he walked on screen. I kept hoping the film would suddenly jump viewpoints and Osmund would be left a supporting character, but NO, the film had other plans for me.

It's a bit like that one sketch, from Monty Python and the Holy Grail..but a teeny-tiny bit more serious.

Other things that make me wish the film was great: Some really nice camera work. Really ominous soundtrack, a great ambiance to the whole film. Some awesome characters and really nitty-gritty fighting and medieval violence. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. I won't go into the finer details of the plot to explain what exactly pissed me off and caused me to face-palm a bunch of times, but by the end the movie falls apart.

Part of this stems from it clearly not knowing what it's trying to tell the audience. Is it a scathing indictment of religious fanaticism? Is it about the hypocrisy of men in general? About dark times bringing about dark actions? I don't even think multiple viewings would enlighten me, considering it feels as though the director dropped all the story elements into a pot and thought "I know! I'll let the audience figure it out! HA! GENIUS!". It's like "The Seventh Seal" written by a congregation of 10 year-old boys.

Now, this isn't to say it's an outright terrible movie, it's just decidedly mediocre. Even if you're going in expecting a fun exploitational swords & gore epic, you'll be sorely disappointed. The movie isn't trying to simply entertain, it's trying to make you think, as though it's a bloody existentionalist medieval movie. It's bloody pretentious in the worst fucking ways, and though it has it's highlights, don't expect the next "Flesh & Blood".
On that note, damn I wish Verhoeven had directed this.

Il Boss: AKA Henry Silva vs the World.

"Il Boss" is the kinda movie where I can think of a dozen other apt titles (Though it's current title perfectly suits it). "Mafioso Massacre", "Lanzetta" or "Henry Silva: Badass" spring to mind. Despite possibly being the most simplistic film in the milieu trilogy, it's hands down the most vicious and brutal of the three films.

"Il Boss" follows the exploits of one Lanzetta, a gunman raised by Mafia Don Daniello to be a killing machine. Following a successful mass-assassination, Cocchi, brother to one of the victims, decides to take revenge. He abducts Daniello's daughter and asks that Daniello himself come to retrieve her, clearly intending to kill the man when he shows up.
Don Corrasco (The late great Richard Conte), Daniello's superior, tells him to sit still, that sacrifices must be made. He also asks Lanzetta to keep an eye on his adoptive father, telling him to take whatever measures he must to prevent him from giving in to Cocchi's demands.
As one may guess from this set-up, all fucking hell breaks loose.

Skull-faced Silva at his coolest and most callous.

Now, if you go into this simply for blood, you'll be damn well satisfied. This isn't to say the movie doesn't stand on it's own merits, it's a sodding mafia epic and must be seen to be believed. But really, the body count gets so absurdly high that any lust for blood you have will be sated for at least the week ensuing. It doesn't even feel glorified, if anything most of these characters, from the most powerful boss to the lowliest thug, die horribly and ingloriously.
Speaking of Inglorious, Tarantino fucking aped the shit out of this flick. I won't got into detail to avoid spoilers, but you can't watch the opening scene to this film and claim it doesn't make you think of a particular scene in "Inglourious Basterds"....Which is a TERRIBLE film by the way..just saying.

Silva gives what's possibly the performance of his career as the professional Lanzetta. He manages to come across as simultaneously professional and yet naive and prone to romantic notions. One moment he's a hardened killer, the next he's hesitant, unsure as to the acts he's committed or the death's he's caused. Which isn't to say he isn't a bit of a bastard, considering the sheer amount of men he guns down without batting an eyelash. Although, considering the men he's up against, one doesn't find it hard to sympathize.

The rest of the cast is great as well. Conte's Corrasco is the ultimate in patriarchal bastardry. Totally benign to the very men who's throats he's going to have cut. Though I can't seem to find the actors name, the police commissioner who feels condemned to sitting around, simply waiting for the mafia to do itself in is hysterical in his cynicism. Antonia Santilli also gives a great turn as the daughter of Don Daniello who, rather than feeling terror over her captivity, decides to enjoy herself as much as she possibly can. Pier Paolo Copponi as Cocchi portrays one of the more suave and utterly cruel characters I've ever bloody well seen!
Gads, as you can tell, I could go on about the performances in this bloody film. Like the prior bits of the Milieu Trilogy, this films got character to spare.

A fiery fate awaits about 80% of the film's cast.

More than anything, this film beggars the question, how did Silva not become a star back home? One almost gets the sense that he could have done dozens of films like this one and still made each and every one of them supremely entertaining. I'm guessing that he looked a little too intense for audiences that most likely desired ruggedly handsome types in their war epics and low-budget biker flicks...or likely not. One has to wonder if he himself either sabotaged his chance for a more American audience or chose not to go for that market. Either way, I'm incredibly ignorant and should prolly read up on him, considering I fucking adore him at this point.

At this point I've pretty much got the Di Leo formula down pat. Guy works for mob, does a decent job. Guy is betrayed by own mob family, kills every single one of them and then loses his humanity or his life. I even found myself accurately predicting what was going to happen in "Il Boss" as the story progressed, but it's execution is so visceral and dramatic that it doesn't matter that it's plot is tried and true. This is a organized crime movie par excellence, and a must-see for fans of the genre...or bloodthirsty folk who yearn for the days of red-paint.

A Change.

I've opted to forgo the star system (As you may have noticed, possibly avid reader, by the absence of the legend to the right of the page) in favor of a more free-flowing critical dialogue. Though I do enjoy "starring" movies (Hell, I do it all the bloody time with family...were all snobby like that) I find the system a tad prohibitive for what I had in mind when I started this blog.

So, from now on dear reader, YOU will have to determine whether or not the film is worth watching! Of course, it should be pretty clear if I liked or disliked the film, I'm just not turning it into a statistic anymore. So, no hard feelings I hope? Anyone? Good. Now shut up and read!

Blow Out: A dark irony throughout.

Ah, Depalma. I've yet to mention my love of the man's movies on this blog, but he's had a rather large effect on me. Though he's released plenty of stinkers in the past (Especially nowadays) there was a period of time where every sodding film the guy made was a thriller par excellence. A tribute to the numerous film-makers  he loved and a finely crafted thrill-ride. Blow Out definitely fits into that category.


John Travolta plays Jack Terry, a movie sound-effects technician who, while out recording sounds for the B-movie he's working on, witnesses a car drive into a river. He dives in without a second thought and manages to save the sole surviving occupant (The other one missing a chunk of his head) and bring her to a nearby hospital. Once there, he's informed by police that the dead man was the Governor (And possibly the country's next president) and that the girl he saved was a prostitute. Told that what he witnessed was simply a drunken fool crashing his car while diddling a hooker, Terry doesn't let go.

Convinced he heard a gun-shot during the accident and that the car didn't simply have a blow out, Terry attempts to use the sounds he recorded to prove his hypothesis, and gets entangled in the aftermath of a political plot.

                                  Solving crimes via film-making. Hoo-rah.

Now, something that makes this film stand out is it's protagonist. Apart from the fact that Travolta gives a really solid performance as Terry (A shock, I know) his job gives the movie a unique spin. It's like a time-capsule to yesteryear, showing methods of film-making that have since been usurped by computers and special effects. More than simply a movie about solving a mystery, it's about film-making.
The acting is strong as well. Nancy Allen (The almost-drowned hooker) and Travolta have great chemistry. I mean, it also helps that the writing is rock-solid, but there's something undeniably strong about the performances in the film. John Lithgow's also (As usual) fairly unnerving, a baby-faced political agent.
The camera-work is also bloody fantastic. Anyone who adores Depalma for his use of split-screen will most likely die of euphoria about halfway through the film. A lot of shots look straight-up like posters or paintings, they're that sodding nice.

                                Uh-oh, he up to no good. NO GOOD I SAY!

The film seems to alternate between being somewhat tongue-in-cheek and deadpan serious thriller, which can be a tad muddled at times. As though the film is throwing mixed-messages at the audience. This is something I've noticed in other films by Depalma, but it's even more apparent here due to how dark the film sometimes gets.
One also has to mention that the films seems to dwell heavily upon the Kennedy assassination and other American scandals. I wouldn't go as far as to say it shows contempt for the usual American response to a big-wig politician dieing (Or getting caught with his pants down) but it definitely doesn't paint a pretty picture. Without spoiling the plot, some of the shots and the context of certain scenes illustrate the events that occur as an American tragedy of sorts. A distinctly Stars and Stripes set of hubris and catharsis.

In the end, "Blow Out" is definitely a treat. A voyeuristic look into the world of film-making and political scandal that also manages to channel Michael Powell's "Peeping Tom" with something of a Giallo vibe, it's definitely a choice picture.

4.5/5

Now I've got to actually see Antonioni's Blow-Up....

"That's how fast I am man."- Peter Fonda in a surprisingly lucid moment.

                            That dude on the left? He's the director man.

Hey man! Guess what man? I watched "Dirty Mary/Crazy Larry" and "Race with the Devil" last night! Whoaaaa, double feature man! It was pretty hip, Peter Fonda man, he's so frickin' cool man. He's also really FAST.

Okay, now that I'm done killing brain-cells. Yeah, double-feature. A double-feature that's fulfilled my 70's cinema quota for the next little while. Don't get me wrong, I love Peter Fonda...and the Seventies..but man, that was too much last- Oh gawd, there I go saying "man" again. I can't stop man! I CAN'T FUCKING STOP!

"Dirty Mary/Crazy Larry" follows the exploits of the titular heroes of the film. Mary's the local trampy trailer-trash girl and Larry's a fallen Nascar racer who's turned to crime to secure funding for building his dream car. For reasons beyond me, his mechanic also aids him in his criminal enterprises. After a fairly easy supermarket heist, Mary forces herself upon them, effectively joining their "gang" and thus ensues a cross-country chase between them and local law enforcement and- Okay. Easier way to sum this up- "Vanishing Point: Hillbilly Edition".
That's pretty much the whole movie in a nutshell. Sure they're a few cool stunts and fun chases here and there, but the parts where cars aren't smashing into one another feature Susan George (Mary) and Fonda bitching at one another like grade school children. While this is amusing in it's own right, it does tend to grate on the nerves when it doesn't abate. I mean, in the movies defense, it doesn't aspire to be anything greater than it is, but dammmmmn son. Hell, I fell asleep for 20 minutes or so about halfway through, and when I awoke, they were still pretty much up to the same things on the very same stretch of road. Not much happening there, nah much at t'all.

                                                 *Insert Ozark joke here*

Now "Race With the Devil" while hardly a masterpiece definitely trumps the aforementioned trailer-trash epic. A group of good 'ol Southern peeps (Seeing a pattern here!) go out camping in the woods only to stumble upon a Satanic sacrifice. They manage to barely escape in their trailer-home only to be pursued across the countryside by ornery redneck devil-worshippers.
Something that aids this against "Dirty Mary/Crazy Larry"? Warren fucking Oates. I swear, you can put the man in the schlockiest movies imaginable and he'll still redeem it by sheer virtue of who he is. He and Peter Fonda play the two buddies who save up their rubles in order to go camping with their wives in tow.
Another respect "RwtD" whups "DM/CL" (Goddamn refuse to type out these titles anymore) is in terms of car combat. "RwtD" actually features a sequence of car carnage that was apparently a major influence on "Mad Max" and "The Road Warrior". Even by today's "Standards" it's a pretty intense chase.
The film's also downright creepy at times, in that paranoid "Everyone's out to get ya!" kinda way. While not outright scary and in fact sometimes downright cheese-ariffic, it may cause you to think twice about writing off people's stares as anything other than downright sinister and hostile.
Unfortunately, while, like "DM/CL" it's sole purpose is entertaining and thrilling it's audience, "RwtD" is woefully misinformed as to it's subject matter. From bogus info such as Runes being "The Satanic Alphabet" and the Aztec's worship being dedicated to Lucifer himself, the film pretty much relies on it's drive-in audiences ignorance of the subject in favor of simply being Devil-sploitational. The fact that the heroes of this film seem about just as ignorant as your average suburbanite doesn't exactly make them sympathetic either. In fact, if anything it's Oates charisma that makes you hope he doesn't wind up a sacrifice, rather than the actual writing.

                        Hey man!? What are THEY up to man? What? Satan man?!

Overall, watching these two pictures in a row (Which I can't really recommend) is like eating a sack fulla bacon and eggs followed by a couple of Krispy Kreme donuts. In other words, if you're under the influence. They both have redeeming features (Okay, vaguely redeeming features in the case of "DM/CL") but they're definitely entrenched in their times and...dare I say it..hokey. Still, if you're looking for cheap thrills and something to chuckle at, you could do far far worse.

By the by, I'm working on a review for "Blow Out". It's a long time coming at this point (Considering I watched it Saturday) but it's coming dammit! Patience I say! PATIENCE!

Mala Ordina: "The Italian Connection" indeed.

Two things have happened since I started watching Fernando Di Leo films. First, Di Leo has become one of my favorite directors. Second, Mario Adorf has become one of my favorite actors. At this point, if the two are collaborating, I take it for granted that I'm about to watch a superb film.


"La Mala Ordina" concerns a lowly pimp named Luca Canali. Despite his profession, he's a fairly decent fellow, pimping so he can pay for his daughters education and aid his ex-wife financially. A heroin deal somewhere up the mob ladder goes wrong and somehow he gets fingered as the one who fouled things, so the New York branch of the mob send two stone-cold killers (Played by the supremely menacing duo of Silva and Strode) to track and kill Canali. Desperate for answers, Canali fights back against the very organization he was once a lowly peon of, leading to all hell breaking loose.

                      First impression: I would not want these two gunning for me.

Once again, like in "Milano Calibro 9", several things stand out. The characters, the camera work, the music, and the sense of predestined tragedy. No matter how much the characters in this movie fulfill their roles, no matter how much they rail against the forces that antagonize them, they're all speeding to the same conclusion. The characters themselves feel as though they've whole histories to them, as though they're real people. Woody Strode doesn't even have much dialogue (At least not compared to his trash-talking partner) and yet everything you need to know about him comes through in his facial expressions and how he interacts with people.
Mario Adorf, like in Calibro, is just fantastic. When he feels agony over failing at something, or inordinate rage over a crime committed against him, you feel with him. It's rare that someone has a face as expressive as his, it's fascinating simply in how it moves...his face...yeah, okay, creepy. But true!
As I mentioned, the camera-work in this movie is just bloody phenomenal. Combined with the editing, it results in some of the most dynamic action sequences I've ever seen. There's one scene in particular, a car chase, that is NOT to be missed. The soundtrack, while not as epic as the film's predecessor, is still damn catchy. More in a funky exploitation vein than Calibro's brooding progressive overtures. Though considering the more action-y tone of the film, it definitely suits it.

                        Did I mention the crazy hippy parties? No? For shame!

Yes, they're plenty of hippies in the film. Complete with blue-fro wigs like the one pictured above. These scenes come complete with faux-Beatles music playing in the background (Since 70's hippy orgies aren't complete without the Beatles and/or Beatles wannabes supplying the ambient tunes).
Now, whereas Melville definitely influenced Calibro (And Mala Ordina for sure) you get a definite Friedkin impression here. "The French Connection" came out one year prior to this and the success it had must have reverberated within the Italian film industry. It almost feels as though "Mala Ordina" were intended to top French Connection in terms of sheer intensity and excitement. In the States it was even titled "The Italian Connection" (And now you see where the title of this review came from! Aren't I clever? Gosh, I know I am! I don't need you telling me! STOP PANDERING!).

And you know, for me, this whups "The French Connection". It may not have the same mythic quality that Calibro radiates, but I'll be damned if Mala Ordina isn't an excellent piece of film-making.

4.5/5

Something I noticed, J&B seems to be the only thing they drank in 70's Italy. Product placement, or simply the choice drink of mafioso's at the time?

Milano Calibro 9: Italian badassery like you've never bloody well seen it.

Milano Calibro 9 (Or simply Caliber 9 in English) is the kind of movie they don't seem to make anymore. It's Film Noir filtered through another country's psyche, twenty years after the States stopped producing filmic nihilism. It goddamn drips testosterone off your TV screen and puts the likes of Tarantino or even Frank Miller to shame. They got nothing on Fernando Di Leo.


Caliber 9 opens with a trade-off that goes terribly wrong, resulting in thirty-thousand dollars going missing. Three years later, a fellow named Ugo Piazza emerges from prison on good conduct, only to be picked up by ex-partner in crime Rocco (A perfectly over the top Mario Adorf). Turns out Ugo was in on the trade and Rocco and his employer (A shadowy man known only as "The Americano") believe he stashed the money before getting arrested.
Ugo is harangued until he rejoins the Americano's ranks in order to prove his supposed innocence, and all kinds of hell breaks loose.

                        You don't wanna annoy these guys. They've got dynamite.

This movie is straight-up epic. It features some of the most intense and over the top sequences I have ever seen in bloody anything. The opening perfectly sets the psychotic tone of the movie and it just keeps getting better from there on. It's also jam-packed with great characters, from the ferociously loyal yet petulant Rocco to this pair of cops who spend most of their time arguing right-wing vs left-wing. Our hero Ugo (Played by stone-faced Gastone Moschin) himself is a supremely badass guy. Half the time I found it hard to believe any of the people threatening him had the gall to do so.
(On a side note, I don't think I've ever seen anyone smoke a cigarette quite as uniquely as Ugo Piazza).
The film's soundtrack is something else as well. Done by progressive rock band Osanna, it gives the film a total 70's flavor and further adds to the absurd amounts of epic. The camera-work as well is just to die for. The way the actors are framed in the shots or how some of the action was shot feels as though the camera was on the verge of shattering due to the intensity on screen.
And boy does the script have layers! Not only is the dialogue hard-edged and snappy, but there's a lot one can glean from the interactions between characters. Honestly, I think I'd probably have to watch the film again to fully grasp some of the reactions these men have. This coupled with the flow of the story and the events that occur, of betrayal and brotherhood, give the whole film a Shakespearian feel.

                               Now, do you really think you'd tell this guy off?

 Now the film does definitely feel influenced by Jean-Pierre Melville, but it never feels derivative of his works. If anything, it honors the man's crime films by having a distinct feel to it, rather than simply aping the man's films. There are also some admittedly B-movie-esque moments (A guitar solo playing over a sex-scene comes to mind) but they don't feel out of place. The film essentially sets itself up as being insane in the first 10 minutes, so anything after is fair game.
If anything works against it, it's possibly the aforementioned political cops. One's a snide bastard who wishes for all criminals to die and hounds Piazza non-stop. The other views the current system of punishment as inherently flawed and essentially has a communist world-view. The film, on occasion, cuts to them in their offices and the audience is treated to political debate. This happens infrequently enough that it doesn't slow the movie down, but it doesn't quite fit into the context of the rest of the film.
The film's also got a spaghetti western feel to it, but considering Di Leo had written many entries into the genre prior to directing Calibro, that's hardly surprising.

Overall, if you like your crime films (Or films in general) extra epic, with heaping servings of machismo and man-love, then you've gotta see this movie. It's tops.

5/5

Now I just have to track down the soundtrack...

The New World: Quite the Journey.

It was early on in the viewing, about maybe thirty minutes in when I found myself thinking "I could honestly watch this man's movies day in and day out, and not do anything else." This said only having seen "Days of Heaven" prior to "The New World", but nonetheless, I stand by that statement. After seeing this movie, I lamented every time I passed up a chance to buy "The Thin Red Line" or rent out my store's copy of "Badlands", and now intend to sprint to theaters to see "The Tree of Life".

"The New World" is the tale of the establishment of Jamestown in 1600's Virginia. It's also a love story, a tale of paradise lost, and one woman's journey from within the heart of her people into the minds of an alien populace.
The film begins with the settling of Jamestown by a group of bedraggled British colonists (Led by the regal yet vaguely sinister Christopher Plummer) and the release of John Smith, a supposed trouble-maker (Played by the ever-so rugged Colin Farrell). Plummer leaves with the ships, vowing to return with more people come Spring, leaving a petulant David Thewlis with the heavy mantle of leadership. Smith is then promptly sent out on an expedition to find the Natives and attempt trading with them.
After a slight journey, he finds them (Or rather, they find him) and he encounters Pocahontas (Q'orianka Kilcher in her break-out role) daughter of the local chief. They begin a romance that seems doomed from the start, despite their love for one another, and tragedy ensues.

                              Movie's bloody chock-full of shots this beautiful.

Now, my brief summary up there, it doesn't really do the film justice. Anyone who's seen it or hell, seen any other films by Malick, knows that telling someone what a Malick film is about is one thing, whereas actually experiencing it is completely different. It's almost seems a portal, not a film, giving us glimpses not only into the past, but into the unconscious of the Americas. As though he is somehow able to pick up psychic strains, the memories of the wounded past, and transcribe them to film.

I once described "Days of Heaven" as an American fable. "The New World" feels like a shared dream, a skein of relived memories. It's a journey, chronicling the birth of a new era and leading up into a realization of sorts, a transcendence.
And now that I'm done being a pretentious Schmuck (Which is how I feel re-reading that bit, though I must admit to liking it quite a lot), I'll get down to using more banal vernacular to describe why this movie is a masterpiece. Yes, I said it, it's a fucking masterpiece.
The cinematography is orgasm inducing. The acting is naturalistic and the performances wonderfully nuanced. It blends popular myth with historical accuracy, resulting in something that feels somehow more true than any simple documentary or history book and the attention to detail is bloody astounding.
But, in a way, none of that matters. I mean, it does, but it doesn't. And I'm not making sense, dear god. Just do yourself a favor and GO SEE/RENT/BUY THIS MOVIE!

                                A wild Farrell appears!..Okay, that was weak.

Another fun highlight is to note how schizophrenic European society is as displayed via the colonists. Sure, they brought the evils of liquor, currency, and alien ailments with them into America, but more than that, you get a sense of the mindset brought over as the most damaging thing. The film really rams home that we, white people, are INSANE.  Not all of us, but the majority...though I suppose that can simply be said about mankind as a whole.
Now, is there anything bad about "The New World"? Gee, let me think. Well, ya know, if you're impatient, then maybe. But then why in the fuck are you even watching a Terrence Malick film? Go away man, just skedaddle.

5/5

Seriously, why haven't you already seen this?