Day 70: The House of the Devil

"You're not the babysitter?"

The House of the Devil was made in 2009, but with the exception of a few minor anachronisms, it could have been made in 1981. When it was released on video in early 2010, there was an Amazon exclusive VHS in the old clamshell case that I wish I had bought as it now routinely goes for absurd amounts of money on ebay. Director Ti West is a godsend to old school horror fans such as myself. He understands that true horror is about mood, atmosphere, slow-burning tension & suspense. Coming at the end of a decade of horror films defined by excess and torture porn, The House of the Devil is a welcome return to the tropes that fueled the horror renaissance of the early 80s.

The film opens with some text about the amount of people who believed in Satan worship in the early 80s, before unleashing the greatest phrase a horror movie can open with: What you're about to see is based on true events. It's complete and total bullshit, but it's a phrase that works wonders on the mindset of the viewer. Samantha (Jocelin Donahue) is a broke college sophomore currently stuck in a bad living situation on her campus, and she's just found the one bedroom place of her dreams, that is, if she can give the woman that owns the property (Dee Wallace from ET) $300 by Monday. At the point of desperation, she sees a sign on a bulletin board on campus that says "Babysitter needed," and calls the number. She's given an offer of $100 for the night, and agrees to go to the house to meet them.

Her friend Megan (mumblecore staple Greta Gerwig) drives her to the house, offering to stay with her, or take her home if the people are creeps. And man, are they ever creepy. Mr. Ullman (Tom Noonan) levels with Sam, telling her that it's not actually a babysitting gig, it's more or less housesitting with an elderly woman in the house. He's reached the point of desperation and offers her $400 to stay there for the night and she accepts. She also meets Mrs. Ullman (Mary Woronov) who manages to out-creep her incredibly creepy husband. Sam takes the job, sends Megan home mad for taking the job, and she has the whole night ahead of her, by herself.

That's pretty much the entire plot. There's a lot of talk about a lunar eclipse throughout that will no doubt come back into play when it needs to. There's one major scare that happens shortly after what I've just mentioned, but then the film settles in and just allows the tension to build and build over the next forty minutes or so. The last twenty minutes pay off for all the waiting you've done, and you'll get your blood and gore, but the film isn't great because it knows how to do bloody violence. It's great because it knows that the key to making bloody violence work is to make you wait for it.

The film is a masterpiece of tension. It's incredibly well crafted and shot just like the old horror movies I grew up watching on VHS. I know that sounds like a back-handed compliment, but Ti West is a latter-day Tarantino, one of those directors who's breadth and depth of knowledge allows him to create a fully-formed homage to the films of his childhood. The Tarantino comparison is unfair to some extent, but this film is to Silent Scream and The Evil Dead what Kill Bill was to Five Deadly Venoms and Master of the Flying Guillotine. West is clearly influenced by Polanski's early thrillers like Repulsion and takes the framework of an 80s horror film, and shoots it like Polanski or Melville would. It's a talent in a director that only comes along once in a while, and I feel that Ti West is a director to not just watch, but to make it a duty to see the stuff he does from now on.

The acting is great across the board. Donahue has that classic horror film beauty look, like Jessica Harper in Suspiria or Karen Allen in Amityville Horror, she's a pretty brunette who wears her vulnerability right there on her sleeve. She's fantastic, particularly the scene where she dances through the house to The Fixx's "One Thing Leads to Another." Watching that scene is like watching people play carelessly in the water in Jaws or Danny riding his trike through The Overlook Hotel, it's a grade-A example of how to do suspense. Tom Noonan is great too, utilizing his size to his advantage by playing his character as timid, almost making him more menacing as a result. Mary Woronov, who played in so many great Roger Corman movies, is also used to great effect here, and together, the two make for one of the creepiest couples ever put film.

The cinematography by Eliot Rockett is also great, using shadows to fantastic effect, and making everything creepy through the use of light and shadow. His use of zoom as opposed to moving the camera is great too, a real sign that you're watching a film that knows how horror movies in the 80s were made. West also wrote and edited the film, and he's as good at those two tasks as he is at directing. The editing is fantastic, lingering when it needs to linger and revealing when it needs to reveal. The score by Jeff Grace is also a classic horror score, lots of strings, and even 80s synthesizers. It makes the film just that much better as a result of being so good.

This is a film that you need to see sooner rather than later. It's fantastic, I really can't say enough good things about it. Anyone fed up with the Saw films of the world needs to get on this thing immediately. This is that film that will restore your hope in the future of horror. There's a lot of boneheads making horror films, and there likely always will be, but as long as the Ti Wests of the world are out there, you can rest assured that the genre will not die a slow, torture-porn filled death.

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Day 69 (heh heh): Exit Through the Gift Shop

"I don't know how to play chess, but to me, life is like a chess game."

I mentioned yesterday that the truly great documentaries tend to be about great subjects, and there are fewer great subjects put on film than Thierry Guetta. He's in a pretty exclusive class with Mark Borchardt from American Movie, Elmyr DeHory from F For Fake and Big & Little Edie from Grey Gardens that I would deem the most interesting people ever put on film. So much of what makes the film work is based around what you find out about Thierry when you find it out, and so I have to urge you to watch the film before reading this review. It's impossible to discuss the film without giving out massive spoilers, and I can't imagine watching the film for the first time with all that knowledge, so please, although it'll drive my readership down for this review, please go watch the movie before reading this (it's on Netflix instant if you have that, or you can buy it pretty much anywhere that sells dvds, and it is 100% worth your money).

Thierry Guetta is a Frenchman who's lived in LA for most of his adult life, making a pretty good living selling irregular clothing from major designers at an absurd markup. He also documents every moment of his life with an omnipresent video camera. We're told this is because of the death of his mother at an early age, he regretted not being able to capture more of his life with her, so now he captures everything in hopes that he won't miss another moment of his life. This is a bit of a quandary to me however, as I wonder how much of life this guy is really experiencing just seeing it through a viewfinder, as we know from the film that he doesn't watch any of this footage.

On a trip to France to visit family, he's given the rare opportunity to tag along with his cousin, a street artist by the name of Space Invader, on his guerilla expeditions to put his art up all over the streets of Paris. Thierry finds a new direction for his life, deciding to tag along with various street artists and document their techniques of putting their art up and avoiding getting caught by the authorities, and ostensibly using the footage to cut together a documentary about street art. He crosses paths with Shepard Fairey, one of the first American street artists, famous for creating the Andre the Giant "Obey" sticker and the blue and red portrait of Barack Obama that was ubiquitous during his Presidential campaign. Following Shepard all over the world, he earns his stripes as the premier documentarian (and lookout) for street artists wanting their fleeting art to have a second life.

The holy grail for Thierry is the notorious British street artist Banksy, who has come to prominence through a series of major guerilla operations throughout Britain and the West Bank in Israel. When Banksy comes to LA to meet up with Shepard, Thierry is finally given a chance to meet the man who he feels can finally give him the missing piece in his documentary. He tags along with Banksy, filming him and helping him on a trip to Disneyland the day before his first American show is to open in LA. What Banksy, Shepard, and everyone else don't know however, is that there is no documentary. Thierry has been filming things for the better part of a decade, but he hasn't been filing or annexing or even labeling the tapes. They go into a box, unlabeled, and are forgotten.

It seems that Thierry's real aspiration is not to make a documentary, but to use the skills and tactics he's learned from these street artists to become one himself. Taking the name Mr. Brainwash, or MBW, he has begun putting up his own art all over the streets of LA. Through some half-hearted encouragement from his idols, he takes their advice to put on a show of his own, and does just that. MBW doesn't necessarily create art though, as much as he just co-opts other artists' work and add something to them, calling it a new piece.

What is art, though, really? Is MBW not an artist because he's not really creating anything? The film doesn't necessarily answer that question, but by interviewing people that fit the mold of a traditional artist and gathering their opinions on the question, it definitely leads you to the conclusion that MBW is less of an artist than they are. Is that fair? I'm not really sure. Banksy, his crew, and Shepard definitely handle MBW with kid gloves and treat him like a bit of a foil, and since Banksy himself ended up making the film, it's definitely edited with an air of condesention toward Thierry. But is Thierry in on the joke? Who knows? I've seen this film more than ten times now, and I still have no idea whether or not he's in on it. He's the one that represented the film at the Academy Awards last year, so he can't be totally ignorant to the opinion of the people in the film, but there's the old adage of any publicity is good publicity, and he certainly seems to be making a comfortable living, so who's the real loser here?

This film is an absolute masterpiece. It's a work of art in and of itself, and much like street art is to the world of art, this film is a subversion of the documentary form itself. I'd much rather spend 90 minutes in the company of MBW than most other artists, so I guess that really says something about the art world and its denizens. The film is also endlessly quotable. The quote I put at the top, which Thierry says late in the film, is one of my favorite quotes of all time. I also love a lot of what Banksy and one of his partners say about Thierry. Banksy says that MBW is in the same vein of Andy Warhol who "repeated iconic images until they became meaningless, but there was still something iconic about them. Thierry makes them really meaningless," and his partner Steve Lazarides says, late in the film, "I think the joke is on... I don't know who the joke is on really... I don't even know if there is a joke." These quotes sum up everything you need to know about Exit Through the Gift Shop, it's a joke that's on nobody, that may not even be a joke.

The narration by Rhys Ifans is great, he has a wonderful voice that is used to great effect, and the music is really good too, particularly the opening credits that uses Richard Hawley's "Tonight the Streets are Ours," which is pretty much the anthem for the entire endeavor. I cannot recommend this film highly enough. It is one of the great documentaries ever made, and it gets better every time you watch it. It was a joy to revisit the other night after not having seen it for several months, and I urge you to do the same if you haven't seen it in a while. Whether or not it's all an elaborate prank is beside the point. If it's entertaining and informative, it's served its function as a documentary, and it's got both of those things in spades. Do yourself a favor and spend some time in the company of Thierry Guetta, especially if it has been a while. You won't regret it.

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Day 68: Marwencol & I Think We're Alone Now

"I was the only man in a town of 27 Barbies."

A great documentary is almost always built around a great subject. Very rarely can a documentary be great with no one to latch onto, but the best documentaries are always about an interesting person or persons who have a different view of the world, whether that's because of the way they've always been or some occurrence in their lives that forces them to view the world differently. Mark Hogancamp is a great subject, and falls into the latter category. One night, when leaving a bar in his hometown of Kingston, NY, he was attacked by five teenagers who beat him into a coma, requiring extensive reconstructive surgery on his head and face, and forcing him to re-learn how to do virtually everything. He's now a stranger in his own life, finding out that he's been been married and divorced, and used to be a pretty hard drinker.

Mark begins creating a world for himself, set during World War II, in his backyard, populated with the people in his life. He goes to a hobby shop and begins crafting an entire town he calls Marwencol, that he uses to cope with his life and the past he can't remember. He creates figures for his friends, his mom, people he works with, and crafts elaborate stories, often photographing them. His photos capture the attention of a man running a photography magazine, who publishes them, attracting attention from an art gallery in Greenwich Village, who wants to put on a exhibition of his photographs. The struggle for Mark then becomes letting people into his world, which he's so carefully constructed and guarded.

Mark also harbors a secret, one that I found to be a bit of a paradox, spoilers ahead. In his old life, he was a cross-dresser, and it turns out this is the reason that the teenagers beat him senseless in the first place. He resumes this fetish in his new life, which I wasn't sure how to take. I'm not a doctor, but I wonder if someone would have that so deeply imbedded in them, that they would resume it after recovering from a traumatic brain injury. I suppose it's possible, I just wonder if it's a true desire to wear women's clothes, particularly their shoes, or if it's him trying to recapture his old self.

Mark's view of what lies ahead of him at his art show, and what he actually encounters, are two different things, and it's nice to see someone confront their own preconceived notions head-on. I really enjoyed this film, and was particularly taken by the reaction of one of the attendees of the art show. He talks about how some of the patrons at the show dismissed the pictures, saying they wanted to go look at pictures of real war, and this man felt that this was dismissive of the war that Mark himself is fighting. It's a true encapsulation of the film as a whole, and helped me to contextualize the entire film. It's a truly incredible insight, and one that I will use to approach the film when I revisit it…

"The difference between me and a stalker is that they don't truly love someone."

I have seen a great number of films and documentaries in my life, and I can safely say that I have never seen anything as borderline unbearable as I Think We're Alone Now. I say this, not because it's a bad film, it's far from it. I say this because the two subjects of this documentary are the saddest, most pitiable souls I have ever seen documented. The film tells the story of 50 year-old Jeff Turner and 31 year-old  (though I find that hard to believe) Kelly McCormick, two adults obsessed with 80's one-hit wonder Tiffany. Jeff has Asperger's Syndrome, though he never readily admits it, and is a born-again Christian who lives under the delusion that he is a close, personal friend of Tiffany's. His past with the singer is documented early on, he was charged by Tiffany with stalking, and told to stay away from her for three years, but it seems that after this time elapsed, Tiffany became a little more forgiving of Jeff and allows him to attend her concerts and conventions (that or she's just an attention seeking has-been, I'll leave it to you to decide). But Jesus Christ, just thinking about this man makes me feel like I need to shower.

There's an aesthetic distance that allows us to watch films like this without feeling a personal investment in the stories, and while I have no personal investment, I'm thoroughly disturbed to think that this isn't even the worst kind of stalker out there in the world. One scene in particular really haunts me, and that is where Jeff scoffs at the stalker who killed Rebecca Shaeffer, as if to suggest that there was something wrong with that man and nothing wrong with him.

Kelly's is almost a sadder case. She was born intersexed, commonly reffered to as a hermaphrodite, and, with divorced parents, lived her childhood as a boy with her father and as a girl with her mother. There is a genuine empathy to her story that I didn't feel with Jeff's, as she was deluded from a very young age by unloving parents who forced her to live a dual existence, something that no child should have to live with. Kelly, however, has deluded herself into thinking that Tiffany is going to move to Denver and marry her, but this dream comes to an end when she finally meets Tiffany, through a meet and greet she attends in Las Vegas with Jeff, yet she thinks now that Tiffany is a close, personal friend too.

These two people are insane, and it's hard for me to view them objectively in light of the fact that, although they have mitigating circumstances that prevent them from living a normal life, they're completely and totally delusional. There's a particularly enervating scene in their hotel room in Las Vegas where they actually argue about who loves Tiffany more or who has the deeper connection with Tiffany. When Jeff's focus shifts late in the film to Alyssa Milano, I wanted to strangle him. The people around him, particularly his church leaders, need to get him serious psychological help and instead they placate him. He stands up in a church service and talks about proselytizing to people at the adult entertainers convention he attends to see Tiffany, and the pastor seems to encourage him rather than take him aside and tell him he's a fucking nutbag.

At least Kelly's story has a happier ending as she meets a new friend at the end of the film and seems to be shifting her focus on fixing herself to get happy rather than relying on Tiffany to make her happy. I feel a twinge of hope for her that she'll be okay, but Jeff needs to be locked up immediately. I don't think he's going to hurt anyone, but he's not some harmless idiot, he's a delusional lunatic that needs professional help.

The thing that endeared me to Mark Hogancamp is that he's really struggling to find out, not just who he was, but who he is now. Jeff Turner on the other hand doesn't want to do any sort of introspection, it's easier for him to just live a lie and never be challenged by anyone. It's the duty of the people around him, especially those at his church, to do something about this man. I'm no fan of the church, but they do have a duty to help people beyond just giving them a safe place to talk. When people come into a church espousing crazy beliefs, they need to have action taken on them, otherwise it's dereliction of duty.

This was an incredible double feature, and one that has left me shaken. Watch Marwencol, I say that without hesitation, but only watch I Think We're Alone Now if it's immediately afterwords. Otherwise, whatever faith you have in humanity will erode into nothingness.

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Day 67: Harold and Maude

"Tell me about yourself, what do you do when you aren't visiting funerals?"

Hal Ashby made precious few films in his life, and a great many of them are masterpieces. I'll be looking at three of them in the next few days, starting with his second film, 1971's Harold and Maude. It's interesting to me the number of critics these days that begrudge films, mostly independents, for featuring quirky characters. There is a definite formula that exists, but it has existed as long as films about outsiders have been made. I wonder how many critics condemn films like Garden State & Little Miss Sunshine, yet worship at the altar of Harold and Maude. If this film were made today, it would be dismissed and derided by snooty, know-it-alls for featuring two main characters with quirk to spare.

I also wonder if, in its own day, Harold and Maude were written off for being another clone of The Graduate, as the parallels are many. Critics in general take the critical part of their job description to unbelievable heights of self-aggrandizement, dismissing films for featuring something they've seen before. I've got news, there are no more wholly original plots. The best we can hope for is filmmakers, writers and actors who can bring something new to the table and take a chance on a new spin on old ideas. 

Bud Cort plays Harold Chasen, a young man who lives at home with his affluent mother (Vivian Pickles) and, in an almost constant attempt to get some sort of attention from his mother, frequently attempts suicide.   He drives a hearse, attends funerals for people he doesn't know, watches buildings being demolished, and has all the eccentricities that, I mentioned earlier, would no doubt be derided by the modern film critic. While frequenting funerals, he catches the attention of another habitual funeral-goer, 79 year-old Maude (Ruth Gordon, perhaps best known for her Oscar winning role in Rosemary's Baby). The two strike up an unusual kinship, based ostensibly on their obsession with death. 

In Maude, Harold finds someone who isn't necessarily obsessed with death, but more upsetting the established order of things. She's an anarchist, at least, as much as a woman pushing eighty can be. She also, in stark contrast to Harold, likes to watch things grow. She enjoys walks in the woods and greenhouses, and enjoys observing the life cycle of things. Maude is a woman near the end of her life who has come to understand what life is really about, and more than anything else, she doesn't want Harold to have such a morbid worldview. 

There are a ton of great scenes in the film, my favorite being the extended sequence of the two of them transporting a stolen tree to replant it. Maude steals no fewer than three vehicles to accomplish the task, including the motorcycle of a highway patrolman, played by a young(-ish) Tom Skerritt. It culminates in the two companions slow dancing in Maude's house, a beautifully staged scene, shot from another room, through the prism of a glass vase. It's a fantastically orchestrated sequence of events, the kind of thing a master editor like Ashby himself pulls off with ease.

When Harold proposes to Maude on her 80th birthday, it's a truly heart-shattering scene, but one that is befitting these beautiful outsiders, looking for something more in this world than its offered them so far. The ending of the film is fantastic too, pulling a classic bait and switch, and will hopefully leave you with a smile on your face.

The soundtrack is pretty damn incredible, consisting of songs written and performed by Cat Stevens, now going by the name Yusuf Islam. Of course it brings The Graduate immediately to mind, but Stevens' music has a carefree jauntiness to it that Simon & Garfunkle's doesn't, but the comparison is there in my mind nonetheless. Ruth Gordon is a fantastic actress, and she shines here as someone determined to enjoy life and not let anyone or anything get in her way. It's a lovely performance, complimented in its joviality by Bud Cort's melancholy Harold. Cort was a talented young man, cutting his teeth on two of Robert Altman's best films, M*A*S*H & Brewster McCloud, and while he never achieved stardom so to speak, he belongs firmly in the camp of the pair I mentioned in my Phantom of the Paradise review, Paul Williams & Jessica Harper, great, talented people who did incredible work in the seventies and never really broke out. 

The script, written by Colin Higgins (who would go on to write and direct no fewer than two Dolly Parton vehicles in the eighties) is really great. It's a tad on the overdone side, some of the characters, particularly Harold's mother, don't sound like characters so much as they sound like caricatures, but the love and care put into fleshing out the protagonists is evident and outshines the weaker aspects of the script. Director Hal Ashby got his big break working as an editor on Norman Jewison's first three films, one of which, In the Heat of the Night (reviewed here back in December), brought him an Oscar for editing. He truly lives up to DaVinci's old adage that "poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master." He has a keen eye for composition, and frames everything in a dynamic way without ever calling attention to the direction. He makes you aware that you've been almost wholly unaware of how good the direction is. 

I'm an unabashed admirer of the seventies, I think it was the best decade for film in its history. The work that was done in that decade continues to be relevant today, and the auteurs of the seventies have yet to be matched in the numbers they were in that decade. Hal Ashby is most assuredly one of those filmmakers, and his work lives after him as a testament to the power of some great scripts & incredible performances. The Criterion Collection is releasing a remastered version of this film in April, and I cannot wait to see it for the first time in high definition. The dvd transfer is fine, but it really loses detail in the darkly lit scenes, particularly the opening. Hopefully its inclusion in that collection will allow a new generation to discover Hal Ashby and his incredible filmography.

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Day 66: Velvet Goldmine

"Although what you're about to see is a work of fiction, it should nevertheless be played at maximum volume."

And with that, you're immediately welcomed into the world of Velvet Goldmine, a film like no other that's ever been made. I know how odd it is to say that when the film borrows its structure, and many of its setups from Citizen Kane, but to say it's anything but a true original would be to do it a disservice. Ostensibly, the film is about Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers) a David Bowie-esque glam rocker of the 1970s, and how he disappeared from the public view after faking his own death. But in actuality, it's about Arthur Stuart (Christian Bale), a British reporter working for a New York newspaper in 1984, who's been given an assignment to write about the 10th anniversary of Slade's phony assassination.

Arthur was coming of age at the same time that Slade's career began to skyrocket, and the story is very close to his life. It's hard to tell for sure if he was actually at all of the events that are talked about in the film, or if he's just imagining himself there, but either way, he's reliving his own adolescence as much as he's finding out the story behind Brian Slade.

The first person he goes to get information from is Cecil (Michael Feast), Slade's first manager. He tells Arthur how he first met Brian and his wife Mandy (Toni Collette) and came to be his representation. To say that Cecil mismanaged Slade is a bit of an understatement, but much like Bowie's early days, no one really knew what to make of him or how to showcase him, so he's stuck playing rock festivals where he's booed off the stage.

At one festival however, he's introduced to Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor, in a truly go-for-broke performance) a hybrid of Iggy Pop & Lou Reed. Slade becomes obsessed with the rocker who truly doesn't give a shit what people think of him, and reinvents himself as a glam rocker named Maxwell Demon. At this point, he catches the attention of a much bigger agent, Jerry Devine (Eddie Izzard, brilliant as always) who promises to make Brian a superstar, and so Brian turns his back on Cecil, ending his involvement in the tale.

Arthur's quest to find out more of the story takes him next to Mandy Slade, Brian's ex-wife, who gives Arthur more of the story than Cecil did. Brian became a superstar and an icon to the outcasts of society, much like Arthur himself was in his youth. Brian's superstardom puts him on the path to self-destruction though, and much of that comes as a result of his convincing Jerry to also sign Curt Wild to a record deal. The two begin a torrid, passionate affair that gets in the way of creating any sort of meaningful music, and seems as if its going to destroy all of their careers. Arthur's quest to find out what happened to Brian Slade after he faked his own death eventually leads him to Wild, who may or may not know the truth of where Slade is now.

The film has unadulterated style to spare. It's one of the most stylized films ever made, and it all works to create a film experience like no other. Writer/director Todd Haynes had wanted to use some of Bowie's music in the film, but when Bowie got wind of the film being about him, he forced them to change the script and withheld his music. I don't know how much that helped though, as the film is obviously influenced by the period in music that Bowie himself created and dominated. I certainly don't think it casts him in a bad light, and did nothing to change my perception of Bowie, nor should it have. One of the best scenes in the film involves Brian and Curt confessing their true feelings for one another as Barbie dolls being played with by two young girls, an homage to Haynes' Karen Carpenter biopic Superstar which I reviewed several weeks ago.

Sandy Powell was nominated for an Oscar for her costume design here, and the fact that she lost to herself for Shakespeare in Love softens the blow a bit, but her costumes are incredible. The stage costumes are amazing, but her work on the smaller characters and extras is equally great. The costumes that the press wear when photographing Slade for the first time at his estate are gorgeous. Andrew Munro's art direction is also great, as is the cinematography by Maryse Alberti. The film has a look all its own and the contrast between the drab, dull, gray eighties and the vibrant, glittery seventies is probably my favorite thing about the film. It makes the film feel more like a memory because everything in the past has so much more life to it than the present, and that's sort of the way we tend to romanticize our past.

The performances are great. Christian Bale has always been a great actor, but watching him change his entire body language and gait is amazing. How he goes from being an introvert, to finding his place in the world, and then retreating back in the present shows what a truly gifted physical actor he is. Ewan McGregor is fantastic, as always, diving into his role with reckless abandon. His scene in the recording studio where he's too fucked up to sing in pitch and on cue is a great moment in a great performance. Toni Collette is great too, playing a shrill, annoying woman during Cecil's story, and then settling into a more fully realized character when she takes over telling the story. It's a great contrast, and one that proves she is one of the most underrated actresses working today.

As for Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, he's probably the weakest link in the cast. He's not bad by any stretch of the imagination, he definitely has a challenging role, but he's not a charismatic actor. He relies too much on his good looks to do the acting for him, and while he's great in the big, flashy moments, he's lost to the much better actors around him in the quiet moments. It's not an easy task he has, trying to play David Bowie without playing David Bowie, but he's not quite up to it. I would also be remiss if I didn't mention the soundtrack, which is fantastic! Thom Yorke & Johnny Greenwood of Radiohead teamed up with David Gray to record under the fake band name from the film The Venus in Furs, but it also features music by Brian Eno, Pulp, Grant Lee Buffalo, Roxy Music, Placebo & even Lou Reed. It's an unbelievable soundtrack, one that continues to be on heavy rotation in my car.

Lionsgate recently acquired a good portion of Miramax's catalog, and has been releasing it on blu-ray in some pretty immaculate editions. This transfer is no exception, looking better than I've ever seen it. You'll want to toss out your old, non-anamorphic dvd from the late 90s the minute you see this new restoration. There's also a commentary with Haynes and producer Christine Vachon that I'm looking forward to listening to. You don't have to be a glam rock fan to like the film, it's an easy film to admire. However, it's going to be tough to love the film if you don't love the era the film is set in. For those of us who are fans of the time and the music, it's like manna from heaven. But don't avoid seeing the film if you're not, I think you'll be surprised how good the film is. If nothing else, it's your chance to see Batman and Obi-Wan Kenobi have sex on a rooftop, and who doesn't want to see that?

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Day 65: The Phantom of the Paradise

"The karma in here is so thick, you need an aqualung to breathe."

I've lifted my self-imposed embargo and it's fitting that the first director I'm revisiting is Brian DePalma. He's had a long and varied career, and no film better embodies how versatile he is better than 1974's The Phantom of the Paradise, a campy, over-the-top, pop odyssey that is a modern retelling of Goethe's Faust with equal parts Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera and Oscar Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray.

Within five minutes, you'll be able to tell whether or not you're going to like it, and if you're put off by the first musical number, it's not going to get better for you anytime soon. This is a film like no other you'll ever see and it is a fantastic wonder to behold. Fans of Rocky Horror, The Apple and Xanadu will devour this film with manic glee. The film features two icons of the seventies, Paul Williams, who also wrote the songs, and Jessica Harper, a beautiful and talented actress who starred in some of the biggest cult hits of all time like Suspiria, Pennies from Heaven and Shock Treatment.

Williams plays the enigmatic Swan, the biggest record producer in the world, who is looking for a brilliant new musical composition with which he can reopen the defunct theatre The Paradise. A young singer-songwriter by the name of Winslow Leach (DePalma regular William Finley) performs part of his cantata based on Faust for Swan, who feigns interest in the work, but turns around and steals it from Leach. When he finds out, Winslow attempts to get his work back from Swan, but instead is declared insane and imprisoned. Escaping from prison, Leach returns to Swan's record company to stop him from making the record, but is horribly disfigured by Swan's record press, and is presumed dead.

He returns to The Paradise, stealing a costume & mask and haunting the theatre. In the best scene in the entire film, DePalma utilizes one of his favorite techniques, the split screen, to show a rehearsal in progress as well as tracking a car that's being pushed on stage which Leach has put a bomb in. It's a great scene in its own right, but the fact that it's also an homage to the opening of Orson Welles' Touch of Evil makes it even better. Leach makes a deal with Swan to oversee the production of his show, signed in blood, and Leach convinces Swan to hire a woman named Phoenix (Harper) to play the lead. Leach has become obsessed with Phoenix since meeting her at an audition at the beginning of the film, and wants to use her as his voice to bring his cantata to the world.

Swan goes behind Leach's back and recasts the lead role with his new protege, Beef (Gerrit Graham) a flamboyant, screeching singer. When Leach finds out, he threatens Beef (hilariously in the shower with a plunger), and when Beef is forced to perform anyway, Leach electrocutes him onstage during the show. Not knowing what else to do to keep the show going, Phoenix picks up the microphone and finishes the show to incredible adulation. Phoenix becomes an overnight sensation and begins a tawdry affair with Swan, breaking Leach's heart. When Leach tries to kill himself, he finds out that the deal he signed with Swan may have been more than it seemed, and he cannot die, forcing him into a life of servitude for Swan. Leach sets out to find out how to break the contract and rid himself of this curse once and for all.

It's a crazy movie to say the least, made even more so by the fact that DePalma, a noted Hitchcock enthusiast directed it. DePalma can't help himself though, and of course makes the aforementioned shower scene into a Psycho homage. It shouldn't work, none of it should, and it balances precariously on the edge of failure for a great deal of its running time, but the fact that it is so well-made and the music is so good, you're willing to overlook its flirtation with being a total disaster and just admire what they were able to do.

I've always loved Paul Williams, and it's not a love I get to espouse about much as his work was so varied, he rarely comes up. This is the man that wrote the songs for the greatest bad movie ever made, Ishtar, and he wrote songs for The Carpenters, Three Dog Night and The Muppets. This is the man that wrote "Rainbow Connection" for God's sake, my love for him requires no qualification. The fact that he is largely unknown is a travesty, so let's make it our goal in the coming year to profess our love for Paul Williams more often.

It's no surprise that Jessica Harper sounds eerily like Karen Carpenter, considering Williams wrote the music, and she has a deep alto voice that resonates with a sultry sexiness that works so well for the role and the film. She's another actress who rarely gets her due, and her work here is reliably solid. Gerrit Graham is also outrageously ridiculous as Beef. The fact that Peter Boyle almost ended up in this role confuses and delights me at the possibilities that could have been, but Graham is excellent, another character actor you'd readily recognize if you saw him.

William Finley is great as Leach. He's always been very good when working with DePalma, but he really gets a chance to shine here. His scenes in the early going are deliriously over-the-top, like his sentencing, when he pleads his innocence to the camera. Which brings me to the way DePalma uses the camera like a character all its own. Early on, characters talk directly to the camera when addressing Swan, he uses it as Leach's POV when he stalks The Paradise, Phoenix sings parts of her audition directly into the camera. Sometimes it feels like a character, sometimes it feels like it's you personally they're talking to. It's odd and inconsistent, but it always works for some reason.

Unfortunately, the dvd of this film is virtually impossible to find. I remember seeing this film as a teenager on the old Encore channel (does it even exist anymore) which was my introduction to a lot of films that time has forgotten like Brewster McCloud, The World According to Garp & Under the Rainbow. Criterion owns the rights to at least two of DePalma's films, and I wish they would get their hands on this and give it the deluxe restoration it deserves. This is truly a film like no other, and the fact that it preceded so many of the other films I mentioned in the first paragraph make it sort of their progenitor. This is not a film for everyone, but the people that will like it, will adore it, and will cherish it the way it deserves to be cherished. Brian DePalma is an undeniable master of the cinema, and the fact that this film is so far afield just proves that point in an even stronger way.

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Day 64: The Incredibles

"You sly dog, you got me monologuing."

Brad Bird is one of those genuinely talented and nice people in this world that you just can't help but root for. Much like one of his contemporaries and good friends, John Lasseter, his early life was marred with the kind of failure that would have crushed the spirit of a lesser man. However, just like Lasseter, his string of recent successes has cemented his status as an icon of the animation industry, and his unyielding commitment to quality is evident in everything he lends his name to. I have yet to see Bird's first foray into live-action filmmaking with the new Mission: Impossible film, but I've heard nothing but good things about it. It does go a little against his old motto which I used to use to champion his animated films to people who claimed to hate animation, "I'm a filmmaker, my medium just happens to be animation," but I can't begrudge anyone for wanting to try something new.

His first animated feature, The Iron Giant, is a remarkably rendered tale of a pair of outsiders trying to find their place in the world, it just so happens that one of them is a giant Soviet robot and the film is set in small town America at the height of the Cold War. This is a theme that runs throughout his work, films that are ostensibly about one thing, but when you scratch beneath the surface, they're filled with universal truths that all of us can connect to. So it is with his first feature for Pixar, the 2004 animated superhero tale The Incredibles, which I would not hesitate for a moment to say is the best superhero film ever made. Five years later, Zack Snyder made a virtually shot for shot film adaptation of Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons' Watchmen, but those of us who know better, know that Brad Bird had more or less already adapted Watchmen with The Incredibles.

The film opens in the past, when superheroes are icons, symbols of all that is good and right with the world. Mr. Incredible (Craig T. Nelson) is the most famous of these, and he's shown foiling all manner of crimes and helping citizens while on his way to get married to Elasti-girl (Holly Hunter). One of these citizens he saves is a man attempting to commit suicide, and this man turns around and sues Mr. Incredible, claiming that he didn't want to be saved, and through Mr. Incredible's actions, he is now in greater pain than before. This forces the government to create a superhero registration act, forcing all superheroes to divulge their secret identities and give up their crime-fighting.

Flash forward to the present, Mr. Incredible is now living a normal life as Bob Parr, still married to Helen & they have three children Violet (NPR's Sarah Vowell), Dash (Spencer Fox) and baby Jack-Jack, all of whom have latent superhero abilities. Bob is working as an insurance claims adjuster, secretly helping people under the table and against the wishes of his boss, Mr. Huph (Pixar staple Wallace Shawn, a man who's voice I'll never tire of). Another friend of Bob's is his former superhero pal Lucius, formerly Frozone (Samuel L. Jackson), and the two meet once a week ostensibly to go bowling, but they're actually secretly moonlighting as superheroes, unable to give up the thrill it once gave them. When Bob runs afoul of his boss and throws him through several walls, he's fired from his job, but is saved when he's given an offer from a mysterious benefactor to come to a remote island and help them fight off a killer robot.

Bob resumes his old life as a superhero, unbeknownst to his wife and kids. Things aren't what they seem however, as the mysterious benefactor is actually a super-villain named Syndrome (Jason Lee), who had been scorned by Mr. Incredible as a kid, when he attempted to be Mr. Incredible's sidekick, against  his wishes. Now Syndrome has a plan to kill off all the remaining superheroes and bestow super powers upon ordinary people, so that once everyone's super, nobody will be. When Helen finds out what Bob's really been up to, she leaps into action to save her husband, and her two oldest kids tag along in an attempt to finally use their super powers.

There's more to the plot than that, but on the outside chance you haven't seen it, it's worth keeping the little bits and pieces secret. The film is heavily indebted to Watchmen as I said before, even throwing in little references like the dangers of wearing a cape, but it's also a savvy superhero yarn, clearly written by a comic book geek. Up until last year's Cars 2, Pixar had the most impressive winning streak of all time, creating films that were not only commercial smashes, but critical successes as well, earning high marks from critics and audiences alike. The Incredibles may be the best film Pixar has made (Toy Story 3 is the only one that comes close) because it's a lovingly crafted film that can appeal to people of any age. Children can relate to the kids, adults can relate to the parents, and even though none of us have superpowers (that I know of), it's really a film about finding your place in this world, and using the powers you do have for good.

The casting is stellar, top to bottom. I would have declared anyone who would have told me that Craig T. Nelson would have been an inspired choice for a superhero to be delusional, but he is fantastic. Jason Lee has a voice that is unique in its youthful naivete, making him the perfect choice for a kid in over his head, acting out a child's revenge fantasy. Holly Hunter has a voice that many people find annoying (I'll never forget people saying she won an Oscar for The Piano because she never opened her mouth), but I think is infused with a genuineness that is in short supply in Hollywood. Her work with the Coen Brothers forever endeared her to me, and I think she's wonderful here.

So why does The Incredibles transcend being a very good movie and become a masterpiece? It's because it never falls into the trap of pandering to young children. A great deal of Pixar's films are excellent, but they have a softness to them that ends up making them safe for children of all ages. This is a film that knows how hard it is to be a kid and doesn't pull any punches, very clearly showing children that there are two paths they can go down in life. One is the path Syndrome took, striking out on his own, acting out his callow revenge, and ending up a delusional man-child with no one in this world to rely on. The other path is the one that Vi and Dash take, where they work with their family, never turning their back on them, relying on them in spite of decisions that their parents make that they don't agree with, but know deep down will make them into better people. It's an incredible message (no pun intended) and any child will walk away from this film knowing that their parents have the best intentions for them, and relying on family is the best way to go through life.

In Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Caesar uses the broken sticks put into a bundle to demonstrate to the other apes the concept of strength in numbers, and if the apes can understand that, anyone can. It's the overarching theme of The Incredibles and is the kind of thing that great leaders have shown throughout history. Going it alone is the quickest way to failure. I hope that Brad Bird returns to animation soon. His other Pixar film Ratatouille is another fantastic film, and one that I hope to revisit here sometime in the future, and I pray that he uses his unique storytelling abilities in this medium he loves again sooner rather than later. I have no doubt, though, that when he does return to animation, he'll continue breaking new ground by telling an age-old story in a new and inventive way.

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Day 63: Drive

"What's a Jew doing running a pizzeria?"

If you were to tell me that there was a better ten minutes put on film this past year than the first ten minutes of Drive, I would call you a liar. It is beyond intense, your heart is in your throat, and you don't really even know what's going on yet, making it a thousand times more effective than it should have been. Ryan Gosling cements his status as the go-to young actor to play tremendous intensity. He is credited only as Driver, an enigmatic Hollywood stunt driver and mechanic who moonlights as a getaway driver for hire.

His boss on set and at the chop shop is Shannon (the amazingly versatile Bryan Cranston, who does more with just a limp than most actors can do with pages of dialogue) who is attempting to make a deal with a gangster named Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks, doing the finest work of his long and distinguished career). He's trying to get Bernie to invest in a race car which Driver will soup up and race. It's a long shot deal with a big-time criminal, but things seem to be headed in the right direction.

Driver meets a woman named Irene (Carey Mulligan, another fantastically natural actress) and her son Benicio, who live in his apartment building. Benicio's father Standard (Oscar Isaac) is in prison and about to be released soon. Driver takes a shine to the struggling mom and son, finding himself becoming emotionally attached to them. When Standard is released from prison, he and his family are harassed and threatened by the criminals he used to work for, and Driver decides to intervene. He offers to take care of the job they want Standard to do in exchange for his freedom and the end of the threats to his family. Needless to say, things don't go as planned, and Driver finds himself in a compromised situation he never bargained for.

It's best if I don't go on if you haven't seen the film, and if you've seen it, there's no need for me to go on. The film is pure, undiluted style from start to finish, and cements Nicolas Winding Refn's status as the premiere director in hyper-stylized genre films. He deservedly won the Best Director prize at last year's Cannes Film Festival and with only a handful of films under his belt, including the brilliant Bronson and Valhalla Rising (which I'll be looking at later this week), he's no longer just a director to watch, he's a director that commands your attention and rewards your patience.

The score by Cliff Martinez is a huge part of why the film works so well. Utilizing songs by Kavinsky and College, as well as an absolutely brilliant use of the song "Oh My Love" by Riz Ortolani, the score is minimalist and unforgettable. Matthew Newman's cinematography plays with contrast in the best way possible. The nighttime scenes are lit beautifully and the daytime scenes utilize natural light to incredible effect. Driver lives in the shadows and relies on them to conceal his true nature, and the daytime scenes are where he sees people for who they truly are.

The performances are remarkable across the board. Gosling is amazing and uses what little dialogue he has to great effect. His scene in the diner, with the guy who recognizes him from a job, is an exercise in combustive restraint. Cranston is also fantastic, playing a guy who never got a break without a trace of Walter White to him. He manages to be pathetic, pitiable and lovable, all at the same time. Mulligan is also fantastic, playing a woman devoted to her husband, but also wanting the best life possible for her son. Ron Perlman plays Nino, one of Bernie's partners, and is great as always. He's one of those character actors that could easily rely on his looks alone to convey his status as a heavy, but he infuses his dialogue with so much character that you can't help but admire how effortless he is on screen.

That brings me to Albert Brooks. I love Albert Brooks. He is one of my idols, someone who's work I have always admired, particularly Defending Your Life. There is not a trace of that lovable loser he's played for decades in his performance here. He is genuinely scary, and it's all the more effective because of his history as the soft-hearted, put-upon guy. He's genial enough, especially in the early going, but when he gets angry, you can feel the danger when he walks on screen. It's an incredible turn, the best reinvention of its kind since Bill Murray's brilliant performance in Rushmore.

My only problem with the film is the way it ends. I'm in dangerous territory here because I dare not spoil it for those who haven't seen it, but it's impossible to discuss otherwise. It's lack of a clear resolution is frustrating, but I'm glad it eschewed the horrendous trap of wrapping things up neatly like The Hurt Locker which should have ended in the cereal aisle. I suppose I'm trying to have it both ways here, but I just wish there had been a little more to the ending. It's the only thing keeping me from saying this was the best film of the year. It's an incredible film, but it just didn't resonate in me the way Tree of Life did, and I presume that's more my fault than the film's.

This is not a film for everyone. It's closer in tone and spirit to films like Melville's Le Samourai, Walter Hill's The Driver & Bertolucci's The Conformist than it is to anything being made today. I remember hearing about this case here: http://consumerist.com/2011/10/woman-sues-drive-for-not-having-enough-driving.html and just feeling sorry for the human race. Any jackass sitting down to this film expecting it to be anything like a movie with Paul Walker, Vin Diesel, The Rock, or any combination of the three, will be severely disappointed and worse for the wear. I fear for the offspring of people like this, not because they just don't get what a truly good film is, but because they're not equipped to handle anything other than white bread mediocrity.

If you give this film a chance, I promise that at the very least you'll be entertained by it, and at best, find yourself caught up in its unrelenting coolness. It's the kind of film that doesn't get made enough any more, and would have been right in line with the great action/suspense thrillers of the 70s. Don't sit at home saying "they don't make 'em like they used to" because they do, and they have. Drive is a mini-masterpiece, and I can only hope they continue to make 'em like this for years to come.

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Day 62: Treasure Buddies

"What are you thinking?"
"How rad this is!"

Ah, Treasure Buddies, where have you been all my life? Disney has been churning out these spin-offs to the Air Bud series with unstoppable force, much to the delight of my five-year old daughter. In five years, they've managed to produce seven films, Air Buddies, Snow Buddies, Space Buddies, Santa Buddies, The Search for Santa Paws, Spooky Buddies, and now Treasure Buddies. The delight in my soul when I found out the wait for another buddies movie was a mere four months since the last was overwhelming to the point of sheer ecstasy. Some may confuse this as Indiana Jones-lite with dogs for kids, but it's hardly willing to be pigeon-holed so easily.

The buddies, Butterball, B-Dawg, Mudbud, Buddha, & Rosebud, are the offspring of the original Air Bud, and have had all manner of adventures in their lives. They've raced in the Iditarod, walked on the moon, helped Santa, and now, they have to stop an evil Egyptian cat from turning mankind against its best friend. They've also got the expected menagerie of friends to help in their adventure, this time utilizing those old desert stand-bys, a monkey and a camel. The verisimilitude with which the filmmakers recreate the Egyptian desert really sets the film apart from other low-budget affairs.

The plot concerns a wealthy industrialist, is there any other kind, named Phillip Wellington (Edward Herrmann, in his best work since Reds) trying to track down the lost treasure of Cleopatra. As part of his quest, he needs the help of an experienced archaeologist, Professor Thomas Howard (Richard Riehle, best known as Santa from The Search for Santa Paws, though he also played Tom in Office Space) who decides to bring along his grandson Pete (Mason Cook), the current owner of the buddies. The buddies are clued into the real plot behind Mr. Wellington's adventure by his cat, who tells the buddies that she's going to reverse an ancient spell by Cleopatra to turn all humans against dogs, and restore cats to their rightful place atop the pet world.

Now, I know what you're thinking, the cats are the bad guys again? Believe me, this isn't mere anti-cat propaganda, there's certainly nothing here beyond some innocent fun, and certainly nothing that will make children think twice before wanting to own a cat for a pet. The film is populated with all manner of character actors who look Egyptian enough for my taste, and will definitely not fool children into thinking that all brown people are the same.

So anyway, back to the plot, before I forget. The buddies stow-away and find an adventure of their own in the desert. Walking through the desert and hallucinating, attending dance parties in the middle of nowhere, sampling the local delicacies like grape leaf wraps and various and sundry. It's not at all what you'd expect. Pete overhears Mr. Wellington's true motives and tries to warn his grandpa, but it's too late, and they're forced to find the treasure and give it to him. Will the buddies find them in time to save them and the dogs of the world. Well, you're not going to get any spoilers out of me, that's for sure.

The plot moves with alacrity from point to point, never slowing its break-neck pace for a moment. When the buddies hop into an air balloon to save the day, I... whoops, I promised no spoilers. This is class-A family entertainment, and almost certainly not a cheaply made cash-grab for gullible parents looking to shut their kids up for eighty minutes.

In addition to Herrmann and Riehle, it's also populated with other actors that kids love, like Lochlyn Munro (though he doesn't play the same character he did in Space Buddies) and Ellie Harvey (though she doesn't play the same character she played in Santa Buddies) and even Tim Conway, reprising his role as the voice of Deputy Sniffer from Spooky & Santa Buddies for roughly thirty seconds. It's a veritable who's-who of direct-to-video stars. Many times, my daughter has asked me why we don't rent more Tim Conway movies, and I just never had an answer. Thanks again, Treasure Buddies.

Director Robert Vince oversaw production on this, as he has all the buddies films, as well as the MVP films of the early 2000s about a chimp that plays hockey and skateboards. He's the go-to guy for talking anthropomorphic animals doing things only adults do in real life films. The film has five credited writers, and while that's usually an indication of "too many chiefs and not enough indians," here it seems like they must have collaborated well and churned out a script that's not just entertaining, but full of the kind of historical accuracy you don't get in many of today's films. So if you've got twenty bucks burning a hole in your pocket and a kid or two that just won't get off your back, head on down to your local retailer and pick up Treasure Buddies. And don't forget to tell them the elitist movie snob sent you!

I promise I'll be back tomorrow with my review of Drive.

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Day 61: The Tree of Life

"The nuns taught us that no one who follows the way of grace ever comes to a bad end."

So, I'm switching things up a bit. Since Drive comes out tomorrow on blu-ray, I want to wait to watch it again before doing my review, leaving me with a bit of a conundrum since I wanted to do these in order. I've decided just to review the last two out of order instead. Make no mistake, I loved Drive, but Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life was the best film I saw last year beyond a shadow of a doubt. Now, I have to warn you first off, I make no guarantee that you will like this film. You may downright hate it, especially if you didn't have the chance to see it in a theater. It's a film that requires the biggest and best presentation available. Fox's blu-ray release is immaculate and is one of the absolute best discs in the format, but it still pales in comparison to seeing it on the big screen.

Dissecting and analyzing the plot would be folly. The film is a free-flowing, almost stream of consciousness film that defies all of the basic tenets of storytelling, yet manages to work in spite of it all. I'm not sure which critic it was from avclub.com that said this, but the film is almost shot from the point of view of a higher power watching one family's life unfold.

The use of voiceover in particular reinforces this theory as most of it is solemn and prayer-like. It is a disorienting experience the first time you watch it, and my overriding emotion for the first forty-five minutes or so was frustration. I wanted the film to just settle down so I could follow what in the hell was happening. This isn't a film that's going to give you what you want, and it presents human life as a microcosm of experience in this world. There are moments that will resonate deep within you, no matter what sort of childhood you had, and I feel that if more people were willing to just give the film a chance, they would find themselves connecting with it in a visceral way.

After opening with a quote from the Book of Job, the film jumps back and forth a bit in the first half hour, showing a family learning of the death of one of their sons. The father (Brad Pitt) and mother (Jessica Chastain) are grief-stricken and deal with the grief in their own way. When the film flashes back to their early life, they are a classic study in nature versus nurture. The father, representing the former, is hard on his sons, trying to teach them that the world isn't fair, and they'll have to fight for what they want in this world. The mother, representing grace, connects with her children in a deeper way than their father, showing them that grace and forgiveness are the best way through this life.

Sean Penn plays the eldest son, Jack, as an adult, and he is shown in the present, working a job as an architect, and dealing with the grief over his brother and haunted by memories of his childhood. Just when the film seems it's never going to settle down, we abruptly jump to the creation of the universe. It's a bold leap, yet somehow manages to work in a way that I never, ever thought it would. We're taken back to the dawn of time, and then through the Earth's evolution (yes, there's dinosaurs, and no it's not as strange as it sounds). After this nearly thirty minute diversion, the film finally settles down to show the history of the O'Brien family. It takes us through their marriage, the birth of their three children, and then the bulk of the rest of the film follows them while the boys are pre-teens. We see the father projecting his failures on his children, how they thrive whenever he's not around, and what it was like to be a small-town kid in the late 50s and early 60s.

The films final act flashes back to adult Jack as he wanders away from his office building and onto a beach, reuniting with his family in some sort of metaphorical shore that may or may not represent heaven. It's not cut and dry, and is more than certainly up to the individual viewers interpretation, and Malick is a smart enough filmmaker to not spell things out and trust that the audience will read their own experiences into this story and interpret it in their own way. I've spoken with several people about the last twenty minutes of the film and heard something different from each of them, so I'm curious to know more about what some of you thought of the third act.

First and foremost, the film is gorgeous. Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki shoots the film using a luscious color palette of warm ambers and greens. It's certainly breathtaking and has the feel of a home movie, making it connect in an even deeper way with the viewer. The film looks as if it was shot using only natural light, and I wouldn't be surprised to hear that it was. I know from watching a documentary about the film that they had essentially a two block radius to themselves during the shoot that was always "in character" so if they wanted to move a scene outdoors, they could do so without fear of ruining continuity. There's also no panning, tilting or zooming at all in the film, which is pretty remarkable for a 139-minute film, but I was amazed to see that the camera never pans, tilts or zooms, utilizing handheld almost exclusively.

It really says something for a film when someone comes out of retirement to work on it, and that's the case here with Visual Effects Supervisor Douglas Trumbull. He hadn't worked on a film since 1982's Blade Runner, yet he was approached by Malick to create practical effects for the universe creation sequence similar to what he had done some 45 years ago on 2001: A Space Odyssey. Malick was apparently unhappy with the solely computer generated effects and wanted them to have a more realistic feel, which Trumbull is able to create like no one else. There are behind the scenes videos on you tube (such as this one: http://youtu.be/qeaVwcypiSs) that document the creation of these effects and they're remarkable in their practicality.

The parallels between this film and 2001 are striking: The use of classical music rather than a conventional score, non-linear storytelling, a prologue & epilogue of sorts that are more suggestive than straight-forward, limited use of dialogue, the list goes on. The Tree of Life is the only film that's ever been made that I feel comfortable comparing to 2001. They're poetic, meditative and up for interpretation; Neither film panders to the viewer, and trusts that you'll draw your own conclusions, whatever they may be. Malick is a director that has never conformed to any of the structural norms of filmmaking. His films all have a lyricism to them that makes them more like experiences than films. He's made five films in forty years, and while each of the films is unique in its story, they're all similar in their storytelling. He's been an admirer of nature and long shots of the environment and landscapes are always as much a character in his films as the actors.

Speaking of which, the actors here are all stellar. Brad Pitt is fantastic, as always, and he can make you hate him one minute and feel deeply sorry for him the next. His early scene where he regrets criticizing his now deceased son's page turning at church is particularly powerful, as is his first scene where he's informed of the death.

Jessica Chastain is also wonderful, an actress who really exploded this year, and with good reason. She plays the mother you wish you had, no matter how great your own mother was, she's a true saint as illustrated in the beautiful scene where she floats ethereally around a tree. Her natural grace on display in her body language, and the scenes where she plays with her sons as babies are especially moving. Hunter McCracken plays Jack as a boy, and he is a pure natural. His ease on screen is revelatory for someone who had never acted before, and he has several great scenes, my favorite of which is when he sneaks into the girls' house he's been admiring and rummages through her room, running off with one of her slips. Penn is also very good because he's a deeply expressive actor even without dialogue, and you can read his emotions anytime he's on screen.

As I said earlier, this is not a film for everyone, and it's one of the true love-it or hate-it films, but I have always loved those kinds of films for that very reason. Films like Magnolia, Requiem for a Dream, Apocalypse Now, 2001, & most recently Black Swan transcend being merely good films because they take such enormous risks, fly so boldly in the face of traditional wisdom, and go so far out on a limb that I can't help but love and admire them. If you don't like the film, I understand completely, but I would like to talk about why. Contrary to popular opinion, I enjoy engaging with people whom I have differences of opinion on, and I am always eager to debate challenging films like this. There is a lot to love about this film, and if you give yourself over to it, you'll recognize yourself and your childhood in there somewhere. And if not, I'd love to hear why…

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