A Small Victory

I give the Disney princesses a lot of grief. Whenever I want an example of how movies affect people I usually list a movie like "Sleeping Beauty" or "Snow" White" and talk about how they encourage passivity in little girls. With the exception of "Beauty and the Beast" I can't think of a single princess film that supports feminism (I would count "Enchanted" but Disney refuses to put Giselle in the category of other princesses because they don't want to pay royalties to Amy Adams for using her likeness). So, my curiosity was piqued when "The Princess and the Frog" was released in all of its hand-drawn glory. I wanted to know if this was a princess movie that would break the pattern of passivity. 

In short, the answer is yes. There was never a time where she slept waiting for somebody to rescue her, nor was there ever a time where her voice was taken away so that she could be seen as human. She was an active, determined, strong-minded woman throughout the film. 

The story of Tiana is as follows (there'll probably be spoilers). When she was a little girl growing up in New Orleans, she and her father had a dream of opening a restaurant together. However, he was called into duty for WWI and never made it back. Tiana kept the dream alive, though, and worked two jobs and sacrificed her personal life in order to save the money necessary to start her business. When she first meets the prince, she doesn't even care about him. 

But due to the direction of the plot, she and the prince wind up in a mess together when they're transformed into frogs. They go on a journey together to the one person who could change them back while helping each other out on the way. There are times when the prince rescues Tiana, but there are times when Tiana rescues the prince. You have to keep in mind that feminism isn't women having power over men; it's about equality between the sexes. This movie showed that.

And when Tiana and the prince fall in love, it doesn't revolve around the prince choosing her a la "Cinderella." In fact, they almost don't get together. The prince was going to propose to Tiana, but she seemingly only cared about her restaurant. So, the prince was going to marry another woman to get the money Tiana needed. Tiana realized how much she actually cared for the prince, so even though it meant sacrificing her restaurant and staying as frogs, Tiana choose to be with the prince instead. Of course, though, everything ends happily ever after with them both becoming human again and Tiana getting her restaurant.

But while I feel as though I can appreciate this movie for its feminist qualities, it's less than stellar in other fields. There wasn't a single memorable song throughout the film, although there were many songs. Too many songs, in fact. I was so interested in the story that whenever a mediocre song began I got frustrated. Actually I began to sing more memorable songs in my head just to liven things up. And, more importantly, it lacked any kind of meaningful commentary on race or culture. Sure, it showed that Tiana grew up poor and that she was treated differently at times, but it failed to create any kind of argument. Still, I suppose it's better than previous Disney films.

And I'd be remiss if I left out the best part of the movie: the art direction. In one scene, the art work transforms from the classical Disney style to that of an expressionistic poster without flaw. And the vibrant neon colors used throughout helped to capture a magical ambiance. The side characters were all likable enough with my favorite being the trumpet playing alligator Louie. And the villain, voiced by Keith David, was intimidating although less so than other Disney villains. The fact he was voiced by Keith David was 80 percent of the character's scare factor.

So, there you have it. A Disney princess movie that had an active woman lead for the first time since 1991. I am happy about that, but I'd be lying if I wasn't let down by it's failures. In the world of race relations, Disney has a lot to make up for.  

Right to Power

For those of you who aren't in the know, there was a clandestine superhero group in Marvel comics called the Illuminati that banded together to make decisions regarding the world's future. This group was made up of Reed Richards, Namor, Tony Stark, Professor X, Black Bolt and Dr. Strange. Together they felt as though they had a representative of each of Earth's main demographics. For example, Dr. Strange represented the world of magic, Namor the people of the oceans, Professor X mutantkind, etc. Nobody on the planet knew they created this team, not even their other teammates. 


The group only came together when there was a massive threat looming in Earth's near future. In one adventure Reed Richards had the team assemble so they could gather the Infinity Gems. When placed in the Infinity Gauntlet, these gems have the power to destroy time, space, reality and consciousness. There have been several universe-wide adventures in Marvel's history where all of the heroes on Earth would try to defeat anybody who gathered the gems. But the Illuminati felt as though it was a good idea to bring the gems together to make them easier to protect. And as a result they almost destroyed time, space, reality and consciousness.



Beside the arrogance of their plan, it just felt dirty to me. Who were they to decide the fate of the planet and, at times, the universe? I have enough of a problem trusting regular superheroes let alone superheroes who are keeping their comrades in the dark. The Civil War saga showed us the extent to which superheroes can make mistakes, so where is my incentive to entrust them?  The general answer is typically something to the effect that they know what's best for us, but that isn't exactly satisfying.



The "Watchmen" graphic novel also dealt with this problem. Ozymandias, a superhero, killed millions of people in order to save billions. To do this, he gave the world a common enemy to band together against, and as a result there was a feeling of unity across the globe. But again, what gives him the right to do that? Rorschach's answer was that nothing gave him the right, and that's why he was going to tell the press. And that's why he got exploded by Dr. Manhattan. But while Rorschach may be in pieces, the question he represented still remains.


I think I have finally found the answer I was looking for. Thomas Hobbes argued that without a government controlling its people, the lives of men and women would be "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." That's why he argued for a powerful, Leviathan-like monarchy. And in the world of Watchmen, and even present day real life, the planet is a world community. The geographic distances that separate us are now meaningless. MacLuhan's global village is almost upon us. So, without a powerful world government controlling its people, it was just a matter of time until chaos broke out (a nuclear holocaust was the likely outcome in Watchmen). So, who better to become the Leviathan than superheroes? 


Anybody who believes in utilitarianism (the ends justify the means) would agree that the actions taken by Ozymandias and his co-conspirators was the right thing to do. After all, a billion lives are more valuable than a million lives. And in order to do what they did, the heroes had to make some ethical decisions. Whether their choices were moral or not doesn't matter because they are the ruling class. They are the monarchy. Rorschach was a rebel who questioned their power, so he had to be done away with.


And, essentially, I believe this argument works for the Illuminati in the Marvel universe. They only flex their Leviathan power when the entire world is at stake, not just when the U.S. or New York city is in trouble. And most every other superhero from Spider-man to Luke Cage can be seen as the Leviathan of a microcosm in the world. 



Sometimes I wonder if humans are as bad as Hobbes believed. Rousseau didn't think so. His entire belief in the social contract depended on it. But when I look at the daily news and see what goes on in the world, I join Hobbes. People, generally, are terrible. Maybe we need a Leviathan to rule us.

Top Five Favorite Films of 2009

If you were to gauge the quality of a year's movies by their financial success, I would say that 2009 did pretty good. During the summer there were blockbusters like "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" and "The Hangover" (those two movies together grossed nearly $1.3 billion). And the winter yielded "The Twilight Saga: New Moon" which has earned well over half of a billion dollars since its release less than a month ago. However, I'm not the type of guy to judge the year's movies that way. I take overall quality as the most important factor. I'm kind of weird that way.


Like most years, I did not get to see every movie I wanted to. I missed Sam Rockwell's "Moon" as well as "The Men Who Stare at Goats" to name a couple. And, of course, there are still movies coming out later this year such as "Sherlock Holmes" that I am eagerly awaiting. But one movie isn't worth postponing my list. So, here is the list of my top five favorite movies of 2009 (of the ones I got to see, anyway):

5. "The Hurt Locker" I typically don't like war movies. The genre seems stale to me, and most of the time it's just a way for Americans to relieve their glory days from WWII. However, "Hurt Locker" is not an ordinary war movie. This film follows the deployment of an Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit in Iraq with the focus being on Jeremy Renner's character, William James. Not only does the movie concentrate on a team that is often overlooked in times of war, but James is a different type of war hero. He doesn't rush into danger to save the day, and he doesn't give eloquent speeches. What he does is disarm bombs, and he does it because it's the only thing he knows he loves (or is it the adrenaline fix that he loves?). Now, I don't agree with all of the ideologies present in the film, but I can't deny good acting when I see it, and Renner's performance was better than most actors' who take home Oscars.


4. "Coraline" I'm tired of children's movies handling their audience with kid gloves. Kids can take a lot more than we usually give them credit for, and filling their brains with nauseating princess stories just works to dumb them down. With that said, "Coraline" is the type of children's movie that children actually deserve. It deals with dark subject matter (I'll remain vague to not spoil anything) but manages to keep a child-like feeling over the entire film. It's like a true, present-day Grimm's Fairy Tale. So, match the emotional maturity with the unique stop-motion and 3D design, and you have what I would consider a fantastic film for both kids and adults alike. 


3. "Inglourious Basterds" Tarantino, the sponge that he is, has the ability to absorb film techniques and style throughout film history and squeeze them out into a style his own. I fell in love with "Reservoir Dogs" for that reason, and he hasn't given me any great disappointments yet. "Inglourious Basterds," though, may just be his best film to date. Aside from New Wave elements throughout the movie and the great performances from Brad Pitt, Melanie Laurent and Christoph Waltz, what's most important about "Inglourious Basterds" is that it gave us the ending to WWII that we all wanted (or perhaps it's the ending we all imagine considering how much we celebrate the damned war).


2. "Funny People" I can't put anything about this movie better than Roger Ebert did, so I'll use his words. "The thing about 'Funny People' is that it's a real movie. That means carefully written dialogue and carefully placed supporting performances -- and it's about something. It could have easily been a formula film, and the trailer shamelessly tries to misrepresent it as one, but George Simmons learns and changes during his ordeal, and we empathize." Oh wait, one more thing, this movie has one of the best cameos I have ever seen in a film. Perhaps even better than "Zombieland's."
 

1. "Crank: High Voltage" This was the most fun I've had in a theatre ever. "Iron Man" was full of nostalgic joy that made me feel like a kid on Christmas morning, but "Crank: High Voltage" was something else. It was visual speed. It was like a video game, a movie, a music video and a junkie all rolled up into one. And, honestly, I don't think I understand it yet. The cinematic style is too out of the norm for me to figure out. The only other movies to give me this kind of puzzle is Godard's work. And, frankly, I like the brain food.

Dreams and Ideals

“The American Dream has run out of gas. The car has stopped. It no longer supplies the world with its images, its dreams, its fantasies. No more. It's over. It supplies the world with its nightmares now: the Kennedy assassination, Watergate, Vietnam...” - J. G. Ballard

           

The idea of the American Dream, reasonably, has been ingrained in this country since its genesis. The Declaration of Independence says it all by saying that all men are born with the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The term “American Dream” didn’t exist until 1931 when James Truslow Adams used it in his book “The Epic of America” where he described it as each man and woman having the ability to make what they want of their own lives. Since then the idea of the dream has been reshaped by those who are doing the dreaming. As a result, authors like Truman Capote and F. Scot Fitzgerald and musicians like John Cougar Mellencamp and Les Claypool have put their own twist on the idea, many of which are dark and cynical. John Schlesinger’s Midnight Cowboy is another morose interpretation of the American Dream as evidenced in the film’s cinematography.

To put it succinctly, the film is about Joe Buck, a naïve and attractive cowboy from Texas who is on his way to New York to become a male prostitute. However, his plan to please rich, lonely women gets derailed quickly by the harsh reality of the Big Apple. After spending all of his money, Joe takes shelter with the greasy swindler Ratso Rizzo and continues to try and live his own American Dream. The only hitch is that Joe doesn’t seem to be operating in the actual world but an artificial one.

The Greek philosopher Plato put it best in his allegory of the cave. In the cave were inhabitants chained to a wall so they could not move or turn their heads. And behind the prisoners was a great fire which cast shadows of themselves on the wall. The shadows were the only things they could see, so to them the shadows were real people. This situation perfectly sums up how Joe Buck was created.

The first shot of the film is a close-up of a drive-in theater screen with the non-diagetic soundtrack of a Western playing complete with galloping horses and gun fire. The shot of the screen is so close, in fact, that it’s difficult to decipher what it is until the camera steps back. And when it does, what is revealed is a child in a cowboy costume riding on a toy horse in the theater’s playground with an actual horse in a corral behind him. The young Joe Buck contently plays on his fake horse paying no attention to the creature within a few yards of him.

The setting of the bare theater screen serves as Joe’s cave wall, as does the television screen that acted as his parent when he was a child, which we see during numerous flashbacks. On these screens Joe watches images that represent reality without being real. However, being strapped in his own cave, Joe mistakes what he sees as being real and tries to replicate it. This means that Joe’s idea of a cowboy is a flashy Hollywood costume as opposed to actual ranch hands. And on top of that, his entire life view is something suitable for a raunchy soap opera.

Of course, his trip to the East Coast is not entirely based on misrepresented images. He also wants to run away from himself. Multiple flashbacks throughout the movie show that Joe once had a decent life with a beautiful woman until one night they were both raped by the local town boys. The event pushed Joe’s girl over the edge and she mistakenly blamed Joe for what happened. This type of tragedy would be enough for anybody to pick up and move across the country. As Claudia Rankine puts it in her essay Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, “…We should all change our names when we don’t like what we see in the mirror. It’s an easy way to distance the self from the self….” Sometimes changing your life is the best way to forget what it once was.

             When the time comes for Joe to take the trip to New York, he still attempts to focus on his cave wall by listening to his transistor radio. He has no TV or movie screen with which to put his attention, but he cannot yet let himself get acclimated to reality. The radio works as a good replacement and during the course of the film it begins to represent both Joe’s last shred of optimism and the last shackle holding him in his cave.

            During the last bus ride of the film where Joe is attempting to take a dying Ratso to Miami before he dies, Joe has a very different experience. Here he is without any kind of artifice to take him out of reality and is anchored down to the real world due to Ratso’s grim presence. It’s here that Joe redefines his American Dream to suit the real world. Instead of becoming a big-time, cowboy hustler in New York he comes to the decision of being a physical laborer in Miami. And he’s happy with that prospect.

            In his essay on Blue Velvet, Richard Schickel said, “It could be argued that Lynch’s most basic business is to deny us the falsifying nostalgia that exposure to the cultural artifacts of the past so genially evoke, to deny us false comforts of falsified history, in the process denying us that ‘Golden Age’ we so often use to measure - and deplore - contemporary reality.” Essentially, Schlesinger aimed to do the same thing in Midnight Cowboy, except instead of denying us a perfect past he is shooting down an impossible future the American Dream seems to promise.  The grittiness the camera took so often accompanied by its bleak subjects caused a powerful message. Film critic Roger Ebert, however, disagrees about the quality of the film’s photography. In his 1994 revisit of the 1969 film he said, “He took those two magnificent (Jon Voight’s Joe Buck and Dustin Hoffman’s Ratso Rizzo) performances and dropped them into a trendy, gimmick-ridden exercise in fashionable cinema. The ghost of the Swinging Sixties haunts ‘Midnight Cowboy,’ and robs it of the timelessness it should possess.”

Of course, one man’s gimmick is another’s treasure as evidenced in Desson Howe’s review for the Washington Post of the same year, “But the fact is, in these unsentimental '90s, the movie's unrelenting grimness holds up very nicely. Beyond the toils and troubles of Joe Buck and Ratso (that's Enrico Salvatore Rizzo), the world itself is lost in hopeless isolation, wallowing in a poverty of money, morality and love.” Elsewhere in the article Howe compliments the film on the very same scenes for which Ebert attacked it. Specifically, what they refer to as the Warhol-esque party. Ebert felt as though the party had little narrative value, was already a trite scene at that point in time and was unrealistic in regards to Joe and Ratso even getting invited. Howe considers the surrealistic scene as cutely quaint.

While I tend to appreciate Ebert’s opinion more than Howe’s, if only for the reason it’s more fleshed out, I think both critics miss the mark. The setting of the party served as platform to give Joe the kind of attention that propelled him to New York in the first place. The documentary style footage present in the scene put Joe in the middle of his own shows. Instead of being a real person, he became yet another representation of reality, much like most of the other guests at the party. Joe enjoyed the taste of the artificial world and even got his first real gigolo job there. However, Ratso’s decreasing health brings Joe back to reality.

Ebert also said, “They exist apart from the movie, outside of it. Their lives have nothing to do with Andy Warhol parties, or escort services, or hard Park Avenue dames. And who can really believe they would ever find themselves on that bus to Florida?” What would Ebert have said if the story had taken an even more surreal approach, such as in 8 ½? Instead of one scene of a hallucinatory party, what if it had been as erratic as Fellini’s film? As Dwight MacDonald said in his essay on the film, “There are three kinds of reality in 8 ½, and the film proceeds with a constant shifting of gear between them. There is Guido’s real present….There are his memories of his boyhood and of his dead parents. And there are his Walter Mitty daydreams of a harmonious realm of luxe, calme, et volupte in which all his problems are magically solved: the artist’s world of creative fantasy.” Midnight Cowboy already reaches the first two in relation to Joe Buck. As for that last one, the closest we come to is Ratso’s fantasy about owning his own resort in Miami. Granted, there is a difference between supplying numerous fantasy scenes and creating ridiculous places of reality, but it isn’t a big one. In Fellini’s film, reality and fantasy were separated and the film transitioned from one to other and back again. In Schlesinger’s film, reality and fantasy were blended together, and considering Joe’s journey that seems like the perfect residence. He is a man that can’t distinguish the two, so the film can’t either. It works to complicate our understanding of reality along with the underlying theme of the American Dream. 

But in the end we are left without the unreal world and are placed on a bus with Joe and Ratso heading to Florida. Here we see the evolution of both characters. In the beginning the difference between Joe and Ratso was big and small at the same time. They both had dreams and they both lived a harsh reality. The difference being that Joe was chained is his cave for most of the film whereas Ratso was embedded in reality. He fantasized about going to Miami, sure, but his day to day routine was focused on survival. The two are similar to the sisters in Donal Mosher’s essay Desiree, Daneal and the Devil. In it, both sisters have gone through a rough life, but deal with it differently. The older sister, Daneal, who was molested by her father, is embittered towards men and speaks openly about the harshness of reality. “Desiree however is not made of the same tough fiber. She bounds her world with cartoons, video games, and all the dense, sparkling décor of young girlhood.” But that last bus ride has Ratso attempting to live in the fake world for the remainder of his life and has Joe face reality. This means Joe has to give up his great dream and find something more realistic, which he does. He’s gone from a fragile Desiree to the toughened Daneal, finally punctuated by the death of Ratso on the bus.

 The road to the American Dream is a dangerous one for many people. And for Joe Buck that path was even more hazardous due to him not living in the real world. However, he survived his journey and while he may not have reached his dream at the end of it, he did accomplish something better. He woke up to reality. Let’s just hope that Joe didn’t wake up from his dream to find himself in a nightmare.

Film and You!

I'm sorry. I've done wrong. I've been writing for who knows how long presuming everybody has the same knowledge I do regarding film theory. However, recently, I realized this isn't true. So, in order make up some lost ground, here's a quick lesson:


A movie is never just a movie. 


If that isn't enough for you, here's a longer lesson. There are two things that control society: written laws and ideology in the form of cultural traditions and customs. Laws, because they are written into a physical form, can be reacted against. For instance, the speed limit of freeway 50 is 65 mph. To show the man what's what, many people go 80 mph. Likewise, it is against the law to spray paint the side of a building, but it's a great way to stick it to the establishment. Because of the transparency of laws, they aren't very effective. Sure, we usually obey them because we don't want to get in trouble. But that isn't as good as obeying something because we want to.

That's where ideology comes into play. These encompass social norms that most people don't think about. For example, why do baby boys get dressed in blue and baby girls in pink? Some might say, "It's always been that way," and that's 1.) intellectually lazy, and 2.) wrong. The habit began around the 1940s. Why did it happen? As far as I can tell, nobody knows. But it's tradition now, and with the exception of some liberals out there, it's still a popularly held belief. Similarly, the phrase "under God" wasn't placed into the Pledge of Allegiance until 1952. But, of course, most people would just say "It's always been that way" and think no more of it.

What would happen if a law was written to officially designate that all baby boys must wear blue, and pink for baby girls? People would fight it. But since nobody is making it visible, everybody just consumes and accepts it. And that's why movies are dangerous.

Movies, primarily classical Hollywood movies, thrive on this point. The cutting to continuity that makes progression through a film so smooth passes on hidden ideologies that audience members usually don't pick up. My go-to example for this is Disney princess movies. Those films time and time again feature passive, White women that wait for a man to rescue them. The film doesn't show flash cards saying "Women are helpless" because women would get pissed off. But when you have it written in the character, it isn't visible enough for the general audience member to notice. So, they consume it. 

Of course, some people would argue that just because they see something on a movie screen doesn't mean that they incorporate it into themselves. I would disagree, as would most psychoanalysts. See, there is this old French guy named Jacques Lacan who came up with the theory of the mirror stage. Babies as early as six-months old can recognize themselves in mirrors, however are still dreadfully uncoordinated. The conflict that arises because of the complete image the baby sees and the uncoordination he or she feels creates a rivalry between the two. Two squash this aggression, the baby identifies with the image, and the Ego is created. 

This relates to film in this way. The movie screen takes the place of the mirror, and instead of our own reflection on the screen we see actors and actresses. We feel the same conflict that a baby has with its reflection, and we end up viewing ourselves as the protagonist in the film. This process is augmented when the gender of the protagonist matches the viewer. This explains why it's usually girls that take after princesses in Disney films whereas boys try to be the courageous, active princes.

There are tons of other ways ideologies are passed onto audiences. For instance, as I stated in my "Iron Man" review years ago, that film perpetuates the idea of Middle Eastern people as terrorists. Since there is no substantial counter argument in the film, we are to believe that if you are Middle Eastern, then you are a terrorist. The movie could have easily been changed to have a militia group stateside abduct Tony Stark, but opted to feed us the fearful impression of the Other. Also, in "Rebel Without a Cause" the only character to die was the guy who was alluded to being gay. Hopefully I don't need to spell out what that one means.

My point is that movies aren't just movies. If you believe they are, that's when they get you. Of course, if you are fine with that, then that is your prerogative. Be comfortably numb. Give yourself over to Hollywood for hours at a time. Let them do whatever they'd like to your mind. I, on the other hand, don't want to be worked on. I want to be in control of what gets into my brain. 

Just do me one favor. Think about this for me. When Alex was tied down and forced to watch violent and pornographic images in "A Clockwork Orange," what do you think that was really about?  

With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

When "Twilight" came out last year, I let it come and go without comment (on this blog at least). Yes, it was terrible, and I could have had a lot of fun tearing it apart. However, I decided the best course of action was to ignore it. I figured if I didn't acknowledge it then it might disappear, and I'd never have to think about it again. Well, I was as wrong as the U.S. was when trying to ignore World War II. Now the sequel, "New Moon," is out and breaking box office records. Much like how Spider-man let the thief go who went on to kill Uncle Ben, I have seen that my passivity has yielded dreadful results. So, it's time to do my job.

"New Moon" begins with Bella having a nightmare that she'll grow old while Edward will remain eternally youthful. Of course she's worried about that. After all, we men only care about looks. And let's face it ladies, with all of the make-up and cosmetic surgery available, you have no reason not to look perfect. I mean, living a fulfilling and happy life with somebody you love only matters as long as you look good doing it, right?

So, the next day is Bella's birthday and her dream has her freaking out about her future. She talks to Edward about this and tries to get him to change her into a vampire. Edward, being a man, can't deal with her feelings and breaks up with her. He tells her it's for her own good, but clearly he's just a scoundrel who can't deal with the responsibility and commitment that a relationship takes. Of course, very few of us men can. Bella reasonably responds to the break-up by ending her life.

I don't mean she kills herself, but she apparently spends months doing nothing but staring out her window into the rain and trees. Killing herself comes later. See, she can't live without a man and figures out that every time she enters a dangerous situation she sees Edward. So, in order to feel complete she needs to be with Edward, and the only way to do that is to straddle death....That sounds fair. I mean, women can't have meaning without men, so it makes sense that her choices are to be with Edward or die. Just try to name one strong, independent woman.

But as the narrative progresses, Bella kind of begins a relationship with Jacob, the friendly neighborhood werewolf. Regular guys clearly have nothing to offer this woman. However, even though Jacob was there for her after Edward bailed on her, he isn't good enough for her. See, Jacob isn't white, so he's automatically inferior to the ubermensch known as Edward. So, Bella uses Jacob as a replacement until she can be with her pale man again.

This temporary relationship between Bella and Jacob is a little rocky, though. See, Jacob soon starts brushing Bella off and avoiding her. Again, here's Bella being tossed aside by a man. Clearly she's left with only one choice of action: grovel for an explanation. After confronting Jacob, she realizes that he's been hanging out with the other non-whites and that's why he hasn't been calling her. Hasn't she ever heard the phrase "Bros before hos?" I guess not because she goes up to his buddies and slaps one of them in the face. The accosted man, being less civilized than his lighter skinned counterparts, snaps and tries to eat her (turns out he's a werewolf, too). Jacob saves her for one reason or another and the movie goes on. Yay.

Since the incident, Bella and Jacob reignited their pseudo-relationship and were doing pretty well until Alice (Edward's..."sister") returned. In one of the clearest displays of racism I've seen in any film, Alice kicks Jacob out of the house so she and Bella can talk. Then things happen and the story goes to Italy and...it's not worth it. I'm skipping to the end.

Edward returns and vows never to leave Bella again. Knowing a good thing when she sees it, Bella takes Edward back and tosses Jacob aside. It was really the smart decision looking at the long term. I mean, Edward can get a better, higher paying job based on his skin color alone. And that's ignoring the fact that the Cullen family are obviously a part of the elite whereas Jacob and his family are blue-collar workers. And the film ends with something so trite and obnoxious that I won't repeat here for fear of tainting my blog. Just think of the most stereotypical ending you can, and you probably got it.

This movie was appalling. It was sexist. It was racist. And, really, it was just bad film making. The fact that girls across the country are looking up to Bella as some sort of role model scares me. She takes the passivity of Disney princesses and combines it with every whiny, emotional teen stereotype you could imagine. I mean, she may even be worse role model than Hannah Montana. But the country spoke last weekend and screamed for more. I can't wait to see what the next movie brings.

 

Me Versus Ebert

After the stream of celebrity deaths this year, I figured I had better get any grievances I have with the Hollywood elite off my chest while they are still alive. Of course, an article listing every problem I have with certain stars would take an excruciatingly long time. So, I'll just start with the top of the list for now and gradually make my way down. And at the top is Roger Ebert.

I know, he isn't a star, but he is certainly related to the world of cinema. Plus, the bone I have to pick with him is a particularly large one. See, ever since I was a kid I've known of Roger Ebert. I didn't have much of a context as to who he was or what he did, but I always knew the name. Then, with thanks to the Animaniacs and "The Critic," I discovered he reviewed movies. Being a movie fanatic for as long as I could remember, I placed Ebert on a pedestal because he was the first film critic I've ever heard of. He was like a demigod to me. But it wasn't until the last year or so that I started reading his reviews. And while he and I agree on many things, I think he's written a good portion of his reviews while out of his mind.

Exhibit A: "Fighting." Ebert gave this film three stars out of four. The general synopsis is that Shawn (Channing Tatum) is a struggling street vendor approached by Harvey (Terrance Howard) to join the leagues of underground fighting. Ebert's reasoning for his score is that he likes how the actors are the film's focus as opposed to the worn out narrative. Ebert says that the director met the requirements of making a genre film and then put the rest of his efforts in making the characters interesting. 

I will concede that the characters, specifically Harvey, were more fleshed out than in other action films, but that isn't enough for me. The narrative itself is dead. As I said when it was first being released, its story is a rehashing of "Lionheart" with minimal chages here and there. So, if you are going to make an action film with a recycled plot, you might as well make sure the action is good, right? Not in this film. Shawn doesn't even win his first fight; the other guy defeats himself. And every subsequent fight gets a little bit better, but, really, watching Adam Sandler and Eric Bana fight in "Funny People" was more entertaining. What I'm trying to say is that if you are going to make an action film that focuses on the characters as opposed to the action, then you had better be sure the characters are damned compelling, which, for me, they weren't. I'd give the movie two stars out of four.

Exhibit B: "Blue Velvet." Ebert gave this film one star out of four. His argument for scoring one of Lynch's most-hailed films a measly one star is that he believes that the film is two-sided. On one hand it shows powerful emotional depth and disturbing sexual imagery that can make almost any audience member cringe. And on the other hand it is a parody of a "Leave it to Beaver"-type small town and is full of satirical in-jokes. The combination of the two takes away from both of their strengths and results in a convoluted, insincere experience.

Again, I disagree. I think the comparison of the seedy underworld with all of its demented attributes and the too-perfect town of Lumberton feed off of each other rather than hurt each other. There are some things you can only define in comparison to their opposites. "Good" would not exist without "bad;" they are dependent on each other for existence. To me, that's what this kind of film does. In order to define how terrible Dennis Hopper and his gang are, we are given the reference point of well-tended lawns and white picket fences. And the fact that the small-town coziness never disappears also works for me because it shows that despite the realization that heinous activities are occurring, the citizens of the town remain oblivious or they just don't care. They are living in a sort of consensus reality where nothing bad happens...even though it does. I'd give the film a minimum of three stars.

Exhibit C: "Knowing." Ebert gave the film four out of four stars. After reading his review, I want to say that Ebert likes this film in theory more than he actually likes it in practice. He commends the film on bringing an ancient debate to the surface (Is the universe deterministic or random?) and making an argument for one of the sides. That is where the greater part of his praise lands. He does mention things like special effects, the musical score and editing, but those received a line of note whereas the general premise of the film and related debates took up paragraphs. Still, whatever his reasoning, he did award it a perfect score.

Now, when scoring something 100 percent, I take things very seriously. After all, a perfect score means nothing could be done to make the film better. I've maybe seen one or two movies I'd give that accolade to, and neither of them is "Knowing." Sure, I like the premise, too, but the film falls flat in other respects. Really, I'd say the film reaches a level of incoherence by the end thanks to its vague randomness. Also, I feel as though Nicolas Cage is only half-trying to act, but maybe that's because I don't like how the character is written. Either way, it's a bad thing. One part of the film Ebert and I agree on is the effects. During certain scenes I was darned impressed with what computers could conjure up. But beyond that, the movie was ok at best. I'd give it a max of three stars, maybe just two and a half.

Now, I am just a lowly film student and Ebert has been studying and reviewing films since before I was born, but I am convinced Ebert is losing it in his old age. Sure, different people have different opinions, but this is too much. "Knowing" getting a perfect score is unnatural. I actually thought somebody hacked his website and wrote a fake review when I first read it. But nope. That's just Ebert. 

Oh well, at least he hated "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen."     

Top Five Favorite Horror-Themed Video Games

Now, before anybody gets the wrong idea, this is not a list of what I think are the five scariest video games. Nor is it a list of my top five favorite survival-horror video games. I'm ill-suited to write either of those due to the fact that...I am a big chicken.  Let me give an example.

Years ago when "Resident Evil" was re-released onto the GameCube, I bought it thinking that I could finally experience one of the most talked about zombie games of all time. So, I popped the disc in and began playing what I thought would be a life changing experience. It turns out that the game's disturbingly quiet ambiance was too much for me handle, and I never actually made it past the first couple of rooms. As kind of a point of reference, the only zombie I ever saw was the first one near the dining room.

However, despite my cowardly tendencies, I like horror-related things. Zombies, vampires and other assorted monsters are all great in my book. So, this list is merely my favorite games that contain those kinds of creatures and elements. And now, without further adieu....

5. Dead Rising (Xbox 360; 2006) Cleary inspired by George A. Romero's "Dawn of the Dead," this sandbox game features the protagonist fighting off zombies in a shopping mall in order to survive for three days until his rescue helicopter comes. From what I can tell, the game does a good job of making the mall as expansive as possible. And thanks to the power of the 360 up to 800 zombies can be on screen at one time. Of course, the masses of zombies only matter if you can dispatch them in fun and creative ways. Luckily for the player, you can. I've seen umbrellas, 2 X 4's, and even Mega Man's Buster Cannon used as weapons. Truth be told, the only reason why this game is so low on my list is because I played less than two hours of it at a friend's house, and in that time I never got a good grip on the controls. So, while it seems like an awesome game, I had a slightly less-than-awesome experience with it. 

4. Left 4 Dead (PC; 2008) Much like "Dead Rising," "Left 4 Dead" is centered around the idea that killing zombies is fun. And if there's anybody out there that doubts this premise, I challenge them to play this game and not enjoy themselves. You play as one of four characters and go through various maps trying to get from Point A to Point B without being killed by zombie hordes. At your disposal on this mission are a variety of firearms as well as molotov cocktails and pipebombs. As is true with Valve's other games, this one was made with top-notch production quality and thanks to the artificial intelligence dubbed "The Director," the title has a fair amount of replay value. Just make sure that when you play you don't disturb the witch (graphic).

3. Resident Evil 4 (GameCube; 2005) Finally, a Resident Evil game that I had no problem playing. That is, of course, because it's not scary. Any creepy atmosphere that I experienced in the first one was wiped out in this game. However, it was replaced with fluid controls that created one of the best third-person shooters that I have ever played. After beating the single player campaign, I spent hours upon countless hours in mercenary mode, which was a survival mode to see how long the player could last during an onslaught of zombies. The only game that saw more action on my GameCube was Super "Smash Bros. Melee." Also, another great thing about "Resident Evil 4" is that it helped spawn this video (graphic). 

2. Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem (GameCube; 2002) If I were to compile a list of games that made the GameCube worth owning, that list would be very short. However, this title would be near the top of the list. The game centered on a woman whose grandfather was mysteriously and violently murdered. While snooping around his mansion for clues to his death, she finds a tome covered in human flesh. This book works as a sort of a MacGuffin and transports the player into the shoes of various characters throughout history. The story was unique and the composition was interesting, but what made this game a real gem was the Sanity Meter. This meter, as one might presume, measures how sane your character is at any given moment. If the meter goes below a certain point, then the character begins to hallucinate. These illusions could be something as simple as books floating across the room a la "Ghostbusters" to a myriad of other events. Not all were scary, but they were all fun to witness.

1. Zombies Ate My Neighbors (SNES; 1993) This is not only my favorite horror-themed game but one of my favorite games of all time. It is essentially a spoof of all B-Rated horror and sci-fi movies of the 50s and before, and everything in the game matches this tone. The art work, the music and especially the monsters all bring back memories of these cheesy cinematic gems. The premise of the game is that you need to go from level to level rescuing as many of your neighbors as you can before they get eaten killed by monsters. And the monsters themselves range from giant ants to demonic dolls to the eponymous zombies. Shoot, there are even giant babies that you have to take down with bazookas. This top down shooter had me addicted as a kid, and now children across the world can share my experience since "Zombies Ate My Neighbors" debuted on the Wii's Virtual Console earlier this week.

You Got My Movie In Your Video Game!

Books are books. Music is music. Film is film. Those mediums seem to understand what they are and fulfill their purpose accordingly. Video games, however, seem a little confused nowadays. It seems to be a growing trend for video games to act like movies.

I don't point this out as a bad thing necessarily, but just as a strange thing. This occurrence doesn't happen with other forms of media. As my favorite video game critic pointed out, you never see films try to be more like books and display written words on the big screen for 90 minutes. You do, however, see video games containing 90 minutes of cut scenes such as the new "Uncharted 2." And in rare instances you can find video games with a solid 90-minute cut scene, such as in "Metal Gear Solid 4." That's the duration of a feature length film. Shoot, the theatrical release of "Crank" was only 87 minutes. But what does this mean as far as video games are concerned?

Films and video games are closely related in terms of how they work on their audience. Films use both sight and sound in order to convey meaning to the viewer. This way a variety of messages can be sent on both conscious and subconscious levels. Video games use this tactic, too, but there is one main difference: the action of the player. See, with films the audience is passive. Their only role is to simply digest what they see and hear. With video games the player is the cause of action. He or she is an active participant in the messages being conveyed. Forcing the viewer into this type of role-playing adds an entirely different, and I would argue stronger, level of persuasion.

So, when I see video games wear film's clothing, it confuses me. By adding in cinematic cut scenes, the developers are actually watering down their message. I get why they do it on a logistical level. There are limitations to game play, and the developers probably want to send some messages in specific ways. So, the easiest way to do that is by manufacturing a cut scene where they have control. The hybrid result is actually pretty effective, but I still believe that there is a more efficient way to deliver messages in a pure video game format. 

Of course, what I'm imagining is still way beyond the horizon. To draw another parallel between film and video games, I think the development of both mediums is similar. The first film came by way of nickelodeon machines around 1905. These were short films that lacked any real narrative but provided entertainment. Then in 1915, the first feature length film and blockbuster was released (regrettably, the film was "The Birth of a Nation," but that's a side point). Twelve years later "The Jazz Singer" debuted as the first talkie. Other advancements and achievements have been attained since then, but even today the medium is still changing, albeit less drastically. 

I'm declaring that the first video game was released in 1971 with "Computer Space." Since then only 38 years have passed. Film has had over 100 years to find its groove, and it's still working on it. What chance do video games have to find its place in just a few decades? Trends have come and gone such as the side-scroller phase of the late 80s and early 90s much like how film noir was a craze during 40s and 50s. The biggest difference between the growth of these mediums is that video games seem to be evolving at a faster rate. I predict that video games will be as settled as film is now in about 30 years. 

But, in the mean time, I suppose cinematic video games will stay popular, at least for a little bit longer. "Metal Gear Solid 4" won multiple game of the year awards when it was released, and "Uncharted 2" seems to be paving a similar road. The French installment of the Playstation 3 Magazine awarded "Uncharted 2" 21/20. And while that rating is a gross hyperbole, it does speak volumes about the game's success. I, on the other hand, will be waiting for video games to embrace themselves and stop trying to live the Hollywood life.     

See As I See

My Netflix account has little trouble telling me that I don't like horror movies. Judging by how I rate scary movies, the video service can only recommend a couple of films from the genre. But I do like horror movies. I'm just a bit picky, I suppose. Generally speaking, I don't sacrifice my guidelines of quality just because a movie is of a certain genre. I except a horror film to meet the same standards as any other movie. It isn't my fault if most of them fall short. 

So, imagine my happiness when in 2004 "Saw" was released just in time for Halloween. A promising scary movie just in time for the holiday based on fear. And lucky for me, the movie had everything I could want. There was action, albeit of the stagnant kind. While Dr. Gordon and Adam were chained up, they still managed to show that they were active. They found clues about the room, found out more about each other and so on. The characters, while a little vanilla, were engaging enough to keep me interested. I mean, even if you didn't like Adam or Dr. Gordon, the film built up enough suspense for you to want to know more about them. 

The movie was intelligent. It posed moral questions regarding placing people in potentially deadly situations and asked why should people who are squandering their lives away be allowed to live. This film came out at a time where nearly everybody at my high school was emo, so that last question hit a personal chord back then. I got tired of their whining and general emo-ness, and seeing this movie was a means of venting. And if you want to dispute anything I've said about the film so far, fine, but the movie's visual style is definitely unique. The cool colors of the prison/bathroom, the lightning quick montages that signified a person pushing past their mental breaking point and the camera angles/lighting techniques used to create a feeling of tensity all gave this film a unique appearance. And as a result, this became one of my favorite horror movies.

Unlike the cynic that I am now, when it was announced that there would be a sequel, I was ecstatic. I had faith in the filmmakers to create a movie that would rival their first. Unfortunately, I was let down. The movie was ok, sure, but it didn't grab me at the same level the first did. The problem mainly came from the characters. Most of them I didn't care about, and some of them just weren't acted well. Franky G's line, "Let me see the back of your neck" became more of a punch line to me than anything else. It could have been a worse sequel, but it could have been better. When "Saw III" was announced I met it with cautious optimism more than sheer excitement. And it turns out that was for the best.

"Saw III" was the true beginning of the end of the series for me. The traps were getting boring, the characters served only as fodder for the traps (as opposed to creating an emotional bond with the audience) and it started focusing way too much on gore. As a tangent, if you watch horror movies only for gore, that's fine. Your choice. You probably loved this movie. However, I feel as though there is a weird sadistic/masochistic connection to enjoying gory films that feature people getting tortured to death. The sadistic part clearly comes from the audience member wanting to see the victim tormented. The masochistic part has to do with the viewer being disgusted by what they wanted to see, which inflicts an amount of mental harm to him or her. I understand that in horror films there is going to be gore. And I accept that. But, if you ask me, a movie focused solely on that is made by a lazy filmmaker. So, not surprisingly, "Saw III" was the last of the series that I saw in theatres. 

It was actually the last "Saw" movie I saw until a couple of days ago. With "Saw VI" upon us, I had to know how the series was faring. A quick check at Rottentomatoes showed that both "Saw IV" and "Saw V" were panned by virtually every critic in the country. That didn't instill me with much confidence, but I'm a trooper, so I gave them a shot anyway. 

The grievances I have with the movies are the same, so I might as well review them both at the same time. As far as action goes, sure there was plenty, but none of it was interesting. In the fourth, we followed around Riggs as he was forced to play into Jigsaw's games; in the fifth it was a similar idea but with the focus being Strahm this time. The action was centered on grisly death scenes and that can only carry a movie so far, like I said previously. 

The characters were...all the same. I mean, maybe it's just me, but every character in these two movies were identical. It's like the director just told everybody to be dark and brooding. Granted, it's a horror movie so having happy Willy Wonka type characters walk around would be weird, but the director could have at least tried to differentiate them. Hell, Hoffman and Strahm even look alike, which got pretty confusing in the fifth film.

The intelligence left the films after number two at the latest and quickly became about the mysterious, interweaving storyline the writers are trying to piece together. Now, maybe if "Saw VI" ties everything together into some psychological masterpiece, then it will be worth all the work. But right now the movies resemble a second grader trying to come up with a scary story. "Well, you know that guy who you thought was a good guy? Well, he was actually the bad guy! And, uh, the pizza man was in on it, too!"


And the visual style, well, that remains to a degree. They still do the rapid montages to express mental breakdowns, which I genuinely like. But there are so many shots that are just close up of gore. Every time there's a trap it goes to a close up of which ever extremity is producing the most blood. If gore is your thing, then I can see why you like it. But if you want something else from a horror movie (like a spooky ambiance), then you might as well look elsewhere.

"Saw VI" is the series' last hope. I think so, at least. Everything I've heard has made me believe there won't be a seventh. And I promise you that if there is, it will be straight to DVD. It will join the ranks of other decent horror movies that went on too long like "Hellraiser" or "Wishmaster." But then again the "Saw" movies have a nasty habit of making tons of cash, so maybe Hollywood will sell a bit more of their soul and we can watch "Saw VII" on the big screen in 2010.     

What Would the Cranberries Say?

Among the most popular horror movies are zombie flicks. The craze started with George Romero's "Night of the Living Dead" in 1968 and spread across the world to countries like Italy (Zombi 2) and Japan (Versus). More than 40 years later people still love a good zombie flick as shown by the strong showing of "Zombieland" at the box office (it made back its $23 million budget in its opening weekend). But there is an overlooked question that comes with these movies. What is a zombie?

Throughout the years there have been tons of zombie movies, but the featured zombies are rarely the same. The creatures in "Dawn of the Dead" differ from those in the film's 2004 remake. The monstrosities in "Quarantine" have little in common with the ghouls in "Dead Alive." So, when considering the vast differences among the representation of zombies you have to ask what the common thread is. After talking about it with some friends, I haven't come up with any hard rules but there are some general guidelines.

To be a zombie you typically have to be undead. This means that you have to have died and then become reanimated. "Night of the Living Dead" started this trend and most films since have followed it. However, "28 Days Later" departs from this and treats the zombie-status as an infection. If the infection does kill the victim first, it is never clearly shown. When the character Frank gets infected by a drop of blood that fell into his eye, he rampages for a bit before seemingly becoming one of the Infected. So, with movies like this even the idea of zombies needing to be undead comes into question.

Zombies are also stupid. This can be proved by nearly every zombie film I've ever seen, but even this tendency is changing. Zombies started out thoughtless, only capable of capturing prey by their overwhelming numbers. But with "Land of the Dead" that stopped being true. It showed zombies develop plans and strategies and even use weapons. Now, seeing as the movie was particularly bad I doubt this characteristic of zombies will catch on, but the film is officially part of zombie history and should be kept in mind.

Lastly zombies eat people, right? "Night of the Living Dead" zombies ate people, "Shaun of the Dead" zombies did the same. But there are two problems here. First, there was a divide created in zombie films between the creatures who ate only brains versus those who ate any and every part of humans. I think the latter is more legit considering that the Romero's original movie had zombies eating things like intestines and flesh. The second problem, though, is that not all zombies eat people. Again, I go to "28 Days Later" to show how this pattern of zombies has been broken. The rage virus in the movie makes the Infected brutally kill people, but I have not witnessed one of them actually eat a person.

In the end, I guess I can't explain what a zombie is. There are too many variations to set down any hard and fast rules. Some are slow, some are fast. Some a smart, some are stupid. Some technically aren't even dead. So, much like what a supreme court justice said about what is obscene, my official statement on zombies is going to have to be "I know it when I see it."


 

The Impossible Question

About a week ago I was talking to somebody about how I want to be a film critic. This was the first time we ever met, so she asked me what kind of movies I liked. As much as a movie nerd as I am, I've never came up with a satisfying answer to this question. So, my best reply was "good movies." She smiled at my non-answer and asked what I thought a good movie was. Again, I was left without an answer, but I've been thinking about it since, and I think I have come up with a few general guidelines.

First, I want to be entertained. Now, different things entertain different folks, but here I can only talk about what entertains me. I am entertained by the feeling that something is actually happening on the movie screen. I like "Die Hard" where Bruce Willis has to save a high-rise from international thieves. I like "Crank" where Jason Statham is virtually bouncing around the frame trying to keep is heart pumping. In other words, I like action. I like a spectacle. But I do have standards in this category. The biggest reason why I didn't like "Wolverine" or "Transformers 2" is due to the lack of worthy action. Both films were full of boring chases, dull fights and explosions taking the place of drama.

Besides sheer entertainment value, I look for characters and stories that I can sink myself into emotionally. If a film is full of whiny, angst-ridden characters ("Donnie Darko," "Twilight," "Chumscrubber") then I'm not going to find the film engaging. If the film is full of real, or at least relatable, characters, then I can become a part of it ("American Beauty," "Funny People," "Annie Hall"). After all, film is an emotional medium. It should be a requirement for films to pull some sort of feeling from the audience. And if the movie fails to do this, it gets a knock against it in my book.

Now, not to sound too stuffy, but the next thing I look for is intelligence. What I mean by this is twofold. First, I don't want the movie to pander to me. Every Disney movie that comes immediately to mind does this. It shoves a sugarcoated ending down our throats that makes us feel warm and fuzzy. And that's stupid, boring and cliche. Ultimately, I think those endings actually do harm to us as a society, but that's another story. And, of course, I'm not saying every movie needs a sad ending, just a believable one. Not every little details needs to be wrapped up in a perfect little bow. 

Second, I appreciate it when the characters in a film or the filmmakers themselves discuss intelligent things (with dialogue for the characters, and via visual techniques for the filmmakers). The philosophy of mind, the nature of humans and the idea of self-sacrifice all make great subjects in film (as shown by "The Matrix," "The Dark Knight" and "9" respectively). It helps show that the people making the movie actual put some thought into it, and leads to a richer experience in the end.

Lastly, I look to the visual style when deciding the quality of a film. Does it just use boring wide-shots and medium-shots everywhere (every romantic comedy ever made), or is it more adventurous? The French New Wave filmmakers were the first to popularize jump cuts and that made them stand out visually. In Asian cinema they show more visually than we do with pages of dialogue. You need only view "Ichi the Killer," "Oldboy" or "Rashomon" to see that. And I believe visual style is so important because, again, film is a visual media. There's no point in making a movie if you aren't going to take advantage of the medium. 

It should be noted, though, that not every movie I like is a perfect 10 in each of these categories. "Cheats" contains engaging characters but lacks visually. "Die Hard" is entertaining, for sure, but isn't exactly the most intelligent film ever made. Often times, filmmakers have to willingly sacrifice one quality for another. But as long as a movie does well in at least one of these aspects, I'll walk away happy. "A Perfect Getaway," a moderately suspenseful thriller that came out this summer had engaging characters and had some visually stimulating shots, so I was glad. "G. I. Joe" had decent action sequences, so I didn't complain after the credits rolled. 

So, maybe the next time somebody asks me the question as to what makes a good movie, I'll be a little more articulate. I'll be able to enunciate that I like visually-stimulating, dynamic films with engaging and intelligent characters. Or maybe I'll just give them the link to this post and make them read my answer. We'll see.