_Movie Reviews

As my tastes and perspectives evolve, many old reviews no longer reflect how I now feel about them.

1. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004)
2. Panic (2000)
3. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
4. Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004)
5. Independence Day (1996)
6. King Arthur (2004)
7. Se7en (1995)
8. Spider-Man (2002)
9. Spider-Man 2 (2004)
10. The Birth of a Nation (1915)
11. The Great Train Robbery (1903)
12. The Hunt for Red October (1990)
13. The Jazz Singer (1927)
14. L'Avventura (1960)
15. Team America: World Police (2004)
16. House of Flying Daggers (2004)

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004)

I let my expectations fall over several weeks of mixed reviews before I finally decided this was a film that needed to be seen on the big screen. I was wrong. If anything, the big screen demonstrates Sky Captain's visual flaws.

The much-heralded visual style of the film was certainly distinctive and often breathtaking but ultimately unsuccessful. The CGI was relentlessly sub-par (though, not as bad as in Immortal). The characters did not blend well with the environments. The film's look might have worked better in black and white as Conran had once imagined, but in sepia it looks muddy - perhaps an attempt to cover up the bad CGI.

At first, I thought I was watching some of the worst acting from respected actors I'd seen this year. Then I realized it wasn't their fault: the actors are consistently given impossible dialogue that announces the obvious and clings to the cliche.

In fact, there isn't a non-cliche moment in the film. And perhaps this is the point; it's all one big homage. Like a comedy who's story exists only to move us from one gag to the next, or an action movie plotted to drive us from one action scene to action scene, Sky Captain is designed to plot us a course through every homage in the book. Occasional, delightful homage is one thing. Ninety minutes of beating a horse dead for 60 years is another.

I wanted to like Sky Captain, and I went to the cinema with the innocence prescribed by its reviewers. So, I was willing to accept giant robots, dinosaurs, and doomsday/planet creation devices of Titan A.E. silliness. I even accepted that intrepid adventurer Sky Captain keeps a machete in his fighter plane. But I refuse to believe that he can punch a massive steel robot 15 feet without wincing, or that his flimsy plane can smash into a wall of water at 200 mph where solid steel robots explode on impact and survive without the smallest crack for water to creep into. I could go on for hours listing moments like this.

The all-CGI approach should have mandated that Conran did everything else possible to draw us into a world that is already distant and unreal (in a bad sense). But, we never really see the villain.

I was thoroughly disgusted with the movie until a nice little moment about 25 minutes from the end where Polly Perkins, 2 shots left in her camera on an incredible adventure, accidentally shoots the ground while running and Sky Captain laughs at her. From then on, the movie was actually pretty good, barring the visual problems and the frequent problems I'd grown to expect at that point. From then on, it felt more like an Indiana Jones movie - exactly as it should have all along, I might argue.

The twist ending and use of the late Laurence Olivier were pretty cool. Alas, the Sky Captain's battle with the mysterious woman is boring, along with other problems.

Sky Captain is a giant missed opportunity. It gives a bad name to pulp adventures, which are struggling enough as it is. It could have been this generation's Indiana Jones (LOTR is already this generation's Star Wars), instead it's this generation's The Monolith Monsters.

Sky Captain is bad on almost every level. It's final 25 minutes and few good moments bring it from 'garbage' to 'Ehhh... No.'

Panic (2000)

With as many successful mob and hitmen films as there have been, it's difficult to add to the genre with something that isn't derivative. But this is exactly what Panic does: Alex, hitman and main character, is not confident or haughty. His wife and kid are unaware of his illegal profession. There are no drugs involved. He's not part of a large organization, but a small 'family business.' Panic successfully circumvents most cliches of the genre.

Panic's most impressive feat, though, is it's ability to be challenging yet subtle, and distinct without sacrificing mainstream appeal and flow (unfortunately, that appeal didn't result in a gross of more than $1 million). The film is noticeably 'different' than your average flick, but won't repel mainstream viewers like a Charlie Kaufman film.

Scenes are generally very short, and accomplish a maximum of exposition, character development, and poetry with a minimum of words. This is a great case study in effective movie dialogue.

In fact, this movie is efficient in every way. The necessary 'hook' occurs early in the film, as does the introduction of all the major characters and their personalities. The film moves at a blistering pace but never exhausts due to its soft, understated approach.

Flashbacks are so rarely used well in film that it's risky to use them at all. Here again, Panic succeeds. The flashbacks arrive only when the specific scenes relate to the current action. They also fit with the emotion of the sequence. And, most importantly, they are used sparingly, not as 'filler' for an underdeveloped story.

The climax sneaks slowly to you like a snake, then jumps out and bites you, and is over before you're quite sure what has happened - leaving you feeling as stunned and off-balance as the characters involved. This was an especially welcome approach to the action for me, having previously viewed Diabolique, which features no less than 8 uses of the "seems dead, but suddenly rejoins the fight" technique to extend the conflict.

There are only two things that bother me about this film. Like most movies, it suffers from Overly Mature Child Syndrome. Sammy, age 6, is not a child prodigy, yet he occasionally says things of an intellectual and emotional maturity pre-teens rarely exhibit. Secondly, and this is nitpicking, its title doesn't reflect any content or mood of the film at any point. This film is far too subtle to sport a title like 'Panic.'

In the end, though, Panic is one of those small films that is a real treat to watch. It doesn't attempt to stretch your tastes with experimental photography or cutting. Its pace is fast yet relaxed. Its characters are troubled but endearing. Its plot is unpredictable but believable. It is poetic in efficiency and beauty.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

As a young teenager, my film experience consisted mostly of Mystery Men, The Lion King, and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. At the time, 2001: A Space Odyssey was simply too large and foreign a pill to swallow. More recently, with Metropolis, Eraserhead, Koyaanisqatsi and others viewed and enjoyed, I tried Kubrick's epic art film again.

2001: A Space Odyssey brilliantly uses the strengths of its medium to tell its story. Film is a visual medium, and 2001's story is told visually, with a great attention to subliminal detail and harmonic beauty. Each frame approaches perfection.

The atmospheric, often atonal score and fantastic landscapes place you in a world you've never experienced. It's heavy use of special effects and the frequency of long, purely visual sequences are daring and, more importantly, successful.

The film's real triumph, though, is its highly poetic exploration of deep philosophical ideas in the course of telling its epic story. It explores the notion of intelligence, along with mankind's purpose, importance, responsibility, and future.

It does this all through highly original means, from the prehistoric days of man to a thinking, talking computer to a rebirth at the hands of unseen aliens.

It's hard to find fault with any element of 2001: A Space Odyssey; it's characters, story, score, visual feast, pace, scenes, or dialogue. And, the filmmakers can hardly be blamed for incorrectly predicting the face of technology in 2001. As far as I can tell, the film's only weaknesses are its unnecessary intermission and an overly long sequence involving the third monolith and a journey through deep space.

By the way, for those left dumbfounded by the film, here's the scoop: the movie is the epic tale of the evolution of mankind, as spurred by higher beings. These beings send monoliths to progress human evolution: one to turn ape into man, one to lead them from the moon to Jupiter (half a billion miles away), one to lead him from Jupiter to the infinite end of space, and one to transform him from man to a higher form of life: a powerful immortal, wholly conscious of all existence (the Star Child).

Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004)

Michael Moore's documentary about Bush's faults as President is as compelling and entertaining as they come. The importance of the information presented within cannot be dismissed. Many of the directorial decisions made by Moore himself are laudable. And yet, I was disappointed.

Don't get me wrong: Fahrenheit is well-presented and mostly effective documentary. But it is not as good as Bowling for Columbine, and it's definitely not the best documentary of the year so far.

Moore milks the humor and irony about the scenarios he investigates for all they are worth. Most of the jokes, of course, are at the expense of Bush, who is presented as a bumbling child. Unfortunately, Moore also presents Bush as a cunning liar, and the two images are at war with each other throughout the picture. As a result, neither impression of Bush is as effective.

After the credits, the screen fades to black and we are treated to the sounds of 9/11: crashes, explosions, and screams. This is followed by reaction shots of people staring and crying over the attacks. We never once see any of the actual attacks or aftermath, and this was a wise decision by Moore - using those images would have been too manipulative, and certainly too 'heavy' for the opening of a movie. But later, Moore is not afraid to overplay heavy material: shots linger too long on sobbing victims and there are several shots that look they belong in a 'snuff' film, like actual footage of a public beheading, bodies on fire, and sobbing children with their body cavities blown open.

On that note, the protest by Moore about the R rating his film received was obviously a (successful) stunt for more press - this film deserves its R.

Most of the arguments in the documentary have been presented elsewhere, but the film distills them and presents them as a consumable chain of events and topics. I was surprised, though, about how much exclusive information Moore had his hands on. He must have good connections. But the fact that he withholds this important data for years until the release of his film, instead of releasing them to the public immediately, shows that he has his own best interests in mind, and not the best interests of the American people he claims to be fighting for.

Moore is just as deceitful in Fahrenheit 9/11 as he was in Bowling for Columbine, and thus supports my theory that Moore makes crockumentaries, not documentaries.

The great thing about Bowling for Columbine was that Moore presented the facts and both sides of the issue and then left you to come to your own conclusions. In Fahrenheit 9/11, Moore wears his biases on his sleeves and doesn't give you a chance to come to any other conclusions other than the ones he has. Every single segment and shot exclusively backs up Moore's position. In two early interviews with governmental analysts, Moore interjects his own comments into the interviews as often as he listens to the conclusions of the analysts. Later, Moore holds the camera on a young soldier who emphatically declares that he was a Republican before the war, but that when he returns to his home he will steadfastly campaign for the Democrats. In fact, Michael Moore opens the film with tired arguments about the 2000 Florida voting situation. I like the legendary Harry Knowles' suggestion that this film should be entitled 'Why We Vote' (after Frank Capra's WWII propaganda film, Why We Fight). This is obviously a piece of election campaigning material for the Democrats.

The ending is perhaps Fahrenheit 9/11's biggest problem, though. It belies the fact that Moore's agenda here was not any particular issue, but rather an all-fronts attack on President Bush. Moore covered so many different issues (Bush 'cheating' in the election, his corrupt business practices, his relationships with the Saudis, his deceptions about the reason for the Iraqi war, his overuse of vacation time, and his handling of the Iraqi reconstruction effort) that the ending could not hope to tie them all together. What could have been a powerful film was rendered weak and scattered by an unconcentrated ending.

At this point, you must think I hated Fahrenheit 9/11, but that's not the case. Alas, the specific problems with the film are more conducive to discussion than its worthy qualities, which are quite general. As I said before, the movie is funny, funnier than most comedies this year. The information contained within is important and presented in a cohesive manner (except for the ending). The pace is swift enough that you'll be surprised when the end comes.

I've come to a crossroads: should I recommend this film? It's not really a 'great' film, and I'd be shaky in calling it a 'good' film. But, the information presented within is something every American should be aware of. So, I reluctantly recommend (how's that for a conflicting alliteration?) that you see Fahrenheit 9/11. But, for the half of the story you didn't hear in Fahrenheit 9/11, be sure to check out Michael Moore Hates America or Fahrenhype 9/11.

Independence Day (1996)

Independence Day is not really a very good film. I wouldn't even put it on the top 10 list for its year. But it is one of the most entertaining films of the year, if you turn your brain off. And after all, isn't entertainment the primary goal of a movie? If you just sit back and watch the movie, without searching for reasons to dislike it (plot holes, underdeveloped characters, unrealistic sequences of events, cliches), Independence Day is one helluva ride.

Just what makes it so fun? Let me count the reasons...

Special Effects. Watching the White House or Empire State Building blow up is simply fantastic. The wall of flame ripping through New York is incredible. Thousands of alien and human aircraft duking it out around one of the large alien ships. The escape from and destruction of the mothership. All of them absolutely jaw-dropping, especially at the time of release. Independence Day is the de facto modern mass destruction movie, and virtually birthed the sub-genre.

Action. The action sequences are exhilarating and well-spaced.

Will Smith. Throughout his career, Will Smith has been alternatively irritating and hilarious. Along with Men in Black, Independence Day is one of his few 'nails it' movies. I don't care if he's not Tom Hanks or Jack Nicholson or Dustin Hoffman, this guy is fun to watch in this movie.

Humor. It's not a comedy, but the there is enough understated situational and physical comedy here to keep you chuckling through the slower moments.

Bill Pullman. Is it just me, or is the most enjoyable movie president ever? And yes, that's including Anthony Hopkins' Nixon. My eyes still tear a little during Pullman's corny but well-delivered 'Independence' speech.

The Trailer. Okay, this doesn't really factor into the film itself, but it should be mentioned that Independence Day has one of the best trailers of all time. At the time of its showing, the teaser's shot of the white house blowing up was the most impressive and shocking 'blow up' shot ever. Anyone who saw the trailer HAD to see the movie. The full-length trailer followed it up with the arguably more impressive shot of the Empire State Building's demise.

So, in the end, I would give Independence day something like a C, but an A+ for enjoyability.

King Arthur (2004)

I went to King Arthur with low expectations. After all, the film is one of the worst-reviewed movies of the year (currently 28% at Rottentomatoes). King Arthur isn't a good movie, but it isn't as bad as 'they' say it is, and those looking for good fun instead of good filmmaking may find it here.

King Arthur is an aspiring Braveheart without the solid writing, acting, and R-rated goodness. There are, however, some good moments. For the most part, the humor succeeds, the action works, and the melodramatic scenes are at least more effective than those of, say, Spider-Man 2. The direction from Antoine Fuqua fights valiantly to redeem the lazy script, though you can feel Fuqua's intentions were not fully realized because his hands were bound behind his back by a studio that wanted a PG-13 flick.

Now for the bad news. The script prevented this film from succeeding. No character besides Arthur himself was developed to a point where you cared about them in the least. And yet, slow-motion shots and soaring music try to milk emotional resonance from these empty characters at the climax of the film. Before the final battle, one of Arthur's knights releases his hawk into the air in one of the melodramatic shots described in the previous sentence. But I found myself asking, 'Who is that, now?' Whoever it was, he had fewer than 5 lines in the movie, and his hawk had been in all of 4 shots (or so). So, while the action itself is decent, I found myself not caring about anyone involved.

Movies are all about manipulation, and I understand that. Movies are meant to evoke an emotional response from its audience. But King Arthur does this in such blatant and cliche way that I felt, erm, violated? The bad guy kills women and children, Arthur pledges his life in place of those of his men, a corrupt priest tortures and old man and a small boy. In fact, for me, the most enjoyable character in the entire movie was the admittedly flat and obvious Cerdic (the bad guy), played excellently by Stellan Skarsgård.

And, isn't Arthur a great legend, full of magic and wonder? This movie might as well have been about John Doe Warrior and his Nameless Knights. There is absolutely nothing legendary about anything that happens. It's a very dreary, tired flick. Merlin is all but absent, Lancelot isn't heroic in the least, there's not a hint of magic, and the characters do nothing truly worthy of legend. Their greatest exploits are spoken of, but apparently happen off-screen before the movie begins.

The movie also lacks purpose. The characters in the movie ask several times 'What are we fighting for? What are we dying for?', and they are never given a satisfactory answer. All we hear are vague notions of 'freedom' and 'equality,' neither of which were precepts of that time period anyway (especially equality).

And of what of Keira Knightley, you ask? I can't complain about her performance, but for a serf, she has mastered archery a little too well for my ability to suspend belief. Oh, and her breasts are painfully subdued by her costume in the final battle. Thankfully, she has a line that will hopefully make people forget (and stop celebrating) her awful line from Pirates of the Caribbean. You remember the one: "You like pain? Trying wearing a corset." I so badly wanted one of the pirates to slam down his hook for a hand and yell, "Try getting your fucking hand chopped off!" Sorry, Elizabeth, but you are a spoiled city girl, however badly you want to be a pirate. Anyway, back to King Arthur: when Lancelot says "There are a lot of lonely men out there," Guinevere replied, "Don't worry, I won't let them rape you."

So, King Arthur is a pretty bad movie. But don't believe the anti-hype. It has a few good scenes, laughs, and battles, and is confidently directed. Still, it's probably not worth it.

Se7en (1995)

Seven is a modern masterpiece of the thriller genre. Andrew Kevin Walker's disturbing script lacks neither thrills nor humanity. The performances are solid, and the camerawork is appropriately unsettling and moody.

Most telling of the film's purpose is it's opening, which features the daily routine of its central character, Detective Somerset. Only after this does the film cut to its first grisly murder scene. This is not a story about a nightmare; this is a story about humanity amidst a nightmare.

The credits sequence gives viewers both a glimpse into the practices of the serial killer's practices (long before he is introduced) and warns the audience that this film is not for the queasy with disturbingly shaky text and close-ups of a razor shaving skin from a finger.

And, if the queasy didn't leave during the credits sequence, they will during the investigation of the second homicide, which features a fatally obese man slumped face-down in a plate of spaghetti in his cockroach-infested home.

Seven's characters are well realized, and their histories and mannerisms are introduced early with a minimum of dialogue that flows naturally between them. And by 'flows naturally,' I don't mean that it flows the way most movie dialogue does. Conversations between the main characters, especially between Mills and Somerset, are in constant turmoil. The characters' dispositions each attempt to steer the conversation in different directions while continuing to discuss the topic at hand. The best example of this occurs quite early in the film, when Mills and Somerset are talking on the street. When Somerset asks Mills why he transferred to his city, Mills replies "I guess, the same reasons as you - the same reasons you had before you decided to quit, yeah?" Instead of answering Mill's question, Somerset stops in his tracks and says, "You - you just met me." And here, Mills has a chance to either explain his question or push the discussion forward. Instead, he stops and backs it up, somewhat awkwardly: "Maybe I'm not understanding the question." It's this kind of dialogue that serves the film so well: it is economical and compressed, as movie dialogue must be (unless you're Quentin Tarantino), and yet it has some of the awkwardness and brokenness of real speech.

Another example: when the police captain is sitting at a desk with Mills and Somerset, and Somerset is explaining that they have a serial killer on their hands, the phone next to the police captain rings. He stops Somerset, answers it, says "This isn't even my desk," and hangs up. The purpose? It didn't reveal character, and it didn't move the plot forward. That little moment happened just to break up the dialogue, to make things uneven and broken and messy. And that's exactly what this movie is.

The pictures composed in this film are very Gothic. Hard, straight, cold lines are everywhere. Sharp points protrude into space. And it's always raining. This movie has no bones about what it is or what it is trying to do.

The movie is not afraid to shock its viewers with grotesque images, whether onscreen or in your mind. The most disturbing moment of the movie for me came when Somerset remarks about how the killer went to the trouble to 'insert tubes into his genitals.'

The movie is also not afraid to explore corruption of the police force. We hear that the police sell some information to the press if they pay well enough. And, our main characters are also corrupt. Our heroes are not perfect. Somerset and Mills pay an crooked member of the FBI under the counter for privileged library records. Later, they pay a young woman to lie, saying she saw a suspicious man and called Somerset.

It is the the well-developed characters, smart dialogue, and dense atmosphere that keeps us intrigued until the first action sequence, more than an hour into the film. And when the action hits, it hits hard and fast. The on-foot chase sequence is brutal, messy, and uncertain at every corner. In some ways, it is similar to the excellent showdown in Open Range.

This late action sequence is also the first time we meet our serial killer. How can a film manage to avoid showing the antagonist for a full hour? His presence is felt in every moment of the film through his bizarre killings and clue-dropping. Because we do not actually see the villain's face or hear him speak, the movie actually continues to work this way after he is 'revealed', through the examination of his freakish apartment.

While the action and investigation scenes are solid and thrilling, the quieter moments provide us with touching vignettes of the characters we grow to love, and even tell us about life. When sitting at a bar, Somerset tells Mills that 'people don't want a champion. They want to eat cheeseburgers, play the lotto, and watch television.' John Doe points out that 'we see a deadly sin on every street corner, in every home, and we tolerate it. We tolerate it because it's common, it's trivial."

The film never ceases to surprise, least of all when the killer turns himself in at the precinct, and then offers the detectives a deal: he'll sign a full confession if they escort him to a place of his choosing. This sets up one of the best movie climaxes ever - which, of course, I will not spoil here.

Seven is the best serial killer movie since Silence of the Lambs, and proves that it's still possible to squeeze a fresh, powerful movie out of the tired genre. It is claustrophobic and intense, disturbing and disgusting, touching and important, shocking and unsettling. And brilliant.

Spider-Man (2002)

The critics and moviegoers that loved this film were bombarded by high action and special effects, and they missed an innumerable number of flaws, continuity holes, and outright goofs. Spider-Man may be a fun movie (which explains its box office success), but it was incompetently written and poorly presented.

The first major problem with Spider-Man lies at its very core. Usually, the fantasy realm of superheroes (such as that of Batman and Superman) is separated from the real world, so that the fictional universe needs only to be consistent with itself to achieve believability. To their disgrace, Spider-Man's filmmakers included many references to our own world. Real New York streets and buildings are used in the film, and it is made clear throughout the movie that this is a story about real people living in the real world. But because Spider-Man's universe is our own, it must then adhere to the rules that govern our universe in order to be plausible. Regrettably, Spider-Man embraces some physical and biological laws while grossly ignoring others.

Villain Green Goblin (played by Willem Defoe), with ridiculous maniacal laughter and a green plastic mask, is perhaps the most annoying film character since The Phantom Menace's Jar Jar Binks. Unfortunately, it's really even worse than that as Green Goblin gets far more screen time than Jar Jar Binks did.

Spider-Man hosts one of the most inconsistent casts of major characters ever assembled. The entire first act establishes that Peter Parker is a nerd and doesn't take risks. But as the second act begins, Peter decides to jump off of a skyscraper, with nothing but an untested web between him and a pavement pancake. Mary Jane sighs wistfully when she sees Harry for the first time, and then later it appears she is only dating him for his money. Harry is a jerk to Peter early on, then suddenly and inexplicably befriends Peter and becomes a really nice guy.

The film's premise is ridiculously implausible for our world. The villain is downright irritating. Central characters are uninteresting and inconsistent. The plot is straightforward and contrived. The dialogue is stilted. The only thing that really works in this movie is the light, situational comedy.

In the end, Spider-Man is simply sloppy filmmaking. At one point, a boom mic is clearly visible in a prolonged shot of a mirror in Peter's room. How did that one get past the editor?

I saw Spider-Man in theaters. I laughed a few times and enjoyed watching the hero brutally clobbered near the end, but I knew I didn't like the film. Yet, I bought the DVD the day it came out. I got home and thought to myself, what the hell am I doing? I loathe this movie! Blame it on mind-control marketing.

Spider-Man 2 (2004)

I didn't really care for the original Spider-Man, but I had great expectations for the sequel. Early word and reviews were extremely positive, the villain looked excellent, and the trailers showed off some great action moments. After viewing the film, I was quite disappointed.

What Worked:
The Comedy. The laughs are more abundant and funnier than they were in the original. For example, when Peter complains to Mr. Jameson about something, Jameson calls an assistant and demands a violin so he can play sad music for Peter. Later, after Peter takes a nasty fall from the sky, he gets up and stumbles away, leaning on a car and setting off its anti-theft alarm. The comedic timing was perfect on all occasions.

The Action. 'Doc Ock' battling Spider-Man, the spectacular train sequence (ripped straight from a 1942 Max Fleisher Superman short), a steel structure being ripped apart - all of it was intense and spectacular.

The Effects. The movie cost a reported $200 million to make, and it looks it.

The Story. A great story about the struggles of actually being Spider-Man and Peter Parker at the same time. Too bad it just didn't quite work for the following reasons:

What Didn't Work:
The drama. Ugh. Every other scene was a melodramatic soap-opera bit. People just don't talk like that. Boring, ridiculously emotional, and far too common. This factor alone nearly brought the film to its knees.

The Direction. The first film was obviously Sam Raimi with his hands tied by Sony: a purely mass-audience flick. The second film runs back and forth between pandering to 'Evil Dead' fans and mass-audience appeal. The result is a highly inconsistent mix of 'hokey' moments (a surgical 'chainsaw,' overdramatic cutting on an approach by Doc Ock, various cut transitions) and classic Hollywood 'careful' filmmaking. Perhaps the third film will complete the transition from Sony to Raimi's hands and we'll get a $250 million Evil Dead sequel starring Spider-Man and Venom. One can hope.

Consistency. Supposedly, Doc Ock is a normal human who happens to have super-strong tentacles attached to his spine. And yet, his human body takes more than a dozen fatal hits throughout the movie and gets nary a bruise. And, Spider-Man is supposed to be stronger and more resilient than a normal person, but can he really lift 10 tons of steel and throw it? Can he survive multiple free-falls from 300 feet in the air? At one point, Spider-Man swings into two children at what appears to be 60 MPH - faster than the truck threatening to hit them was traveling. Good job, Spider-Man - they made it past the truck but they're dying of internal bleeding.

Talking to the Audience. The filmmakers didn't trust that character's thoughts and feelings could be communicated by the actors, so they spelled out every thought and emotion for the audience. Characters talk at length to no one at all. The most 'clever' device used for this was Peter talking for minutes into a phone he knew was disconnected. Cheating! Cheating!

Harry. Once again, Harry is a terribly inconsistent character. Early on, he is very friendly to Peter, but hates Peter for the rest of the movie because Peter is a friend of Spider-Man, who killed Harry's father. Wasn't that the case from the beginning of the movie?

This is a movie that struggles to find its own identity. A spectacular action flick with a good story is ruined by frequent, awful melodrama and inconsistent direction. It's not a terrible movie, but it's not as good as I had hoped. Being able to skip the melodrama on the DVD will improve quality of the film by 50%. If Batman Begins disappoints this badly, I may weep for weeks.

The Birth of a Nation (1915)

D.W. Griffith used several years of experience making dozens of short films about the civil war to construct his 3-hour silent masterpiece, The Birth of a Nation. It follows the ever-changing relationship between two families through the Civil War (they must fight on opposite sides), the assassination of Lincoln, the rebuilding of the South, and the birth of the Klu Klux Klan. It was released to much popularity and controversy in 1915, the 50th anniversary of the end of the Civil War.

Despite its length, the movie is actually very enjoyable. Griffith gives us much to interest the eye: characters amusingly quibbling with each other, a man reaching under his wig to scratch his bald head, a woman playfully shooting an invisible pistol at her departing man. And, the pace is actually quite fast compared to, say, The Last Days of Pompeii (1913). The movie's length is due to its large number of plot points and epic scope, not a languid pace. And anyway, the action really heats up a mere 35 minutes into the film (people shooting each other right and left, fires erupting), and returns frequently enough that boredom is never a concern.

Even someone who hasn't seen a silent film won't be lost by the plot due to the obsessively frequent title cards to explain each scene and setting where the action isn't obvious.

Today's filmmakers could learn many lessons about modern filmmaking from Griffith's classic of nearly a century ago. Because none of the dialogue is heard (and rarely written on title cards), Griffith must develop his characters with behavior and acting alone. For example, at one point, a father picks up his daughter lovingly and shows her a banner that reads, "Conquer we must. Victory or death. For our cause is just." It's a sweet moment that endears the audience (even the 'northerners' of the day) to this loving confederate family. Later, another confederate (Ben) receives a letter from his sister from home that reads: "...I'm just dying, dying to see you! Well, I'm growing up too - they say I'm such a big girl now you wouldn't know me ***** (kisses) - your little big Sis."

In another touching moment that has now become a Hollywood cliche, two friends meet on the battlefield on opposite sides. As one is about to kill the other, they realize who they are fighting and exchange smiles. But, the one already wounded succumbs to death, and the other is shot and falls dead beside him. You really fall in love with the characters without hearing a word they are saying.

In this way, The Birth of a Nation is similar to something I've always wanted to see - a movie told sympathetically from the Nazi side of WWII. Indeed, this idea of telling the story sympathetically from the the Klu Klux Klan's point of view provided much of the controversy of the movie. Also, for a time, the blacks are the 'bad guys' of the story. Not even the message that opened the film could squelch the uproar: "... we have no wish to offend with improprieties or obscenities, but we do demand... the liberty to show the dark side of wrong, that we may illuminate the bright side of virtue - the same liberty that is conceded to... that art to which we owe the Bible and the works of Shakespeare."

In one memorable shot, we begin close on a family huddled in a forest, apparently hiding. We pan right to reveal an epic battle with hundreds of troops and cavalry taking place in the valley right next to them. The panicked mother hugs her children tightly as the sounds of war roar at them.

I've mostly heard people call The Birth of a Nation one of the greatest films of all time for its epic scope, controversy, box office, expense, and filmmaking technique. But now I know it's also one of the most beautifully told and shot stories of the era with well-developed, lovable characters, great action, beautiful scenes, daring subject matter, and artful construction.

The Great Train Robbery (1903)

The Great Train Robbery is the most influential and important film in history. In only 12 minutes, it pioneered the use of several filmmaking techniques that define cinema today. It is the father of the American film narrative.

It was the first film to incorporate time jumps to omit the unnecessary, the first to intercut between multiple simultaneous events, the first real action film, the first real western, the first to contain what could be considered an 'indelible image' (a cowboy shooting repeatedly straight at the camera), and is even one of the first fictional films to break the fourth wall.

The film begins when two robbers enter a railroad office and force the operator to stop an approaching train and write an order to take water. At the water tank, bandits await the stopping train and jump aboard after it takes on some water. A gunfight on the train ends in one of the robbers killing a man. They try to open a safe, but find it locked, so they blow it open.

The next scene shows a battle atop the train, shot while it was moving at 40 miles per hour. The scene even employs a stunt double for a defeated train engineer, who is thrown off the train while it is moving.

The bandits uncouple the train and line up the passengers outside at gunpoint and take all their money. One man tries to run and is shot dead. The bandits run to the uncoupled front cars and escape. They stop the train later and run into the woods with their loot. They mount horses and ride away.

Back in the railroad telegraph office, the operator (hands and feet bound), struggles to stand. He sends a telegraph for help, and then faints. A girl enters, cuts his bounds, and revives him with a glass of water. The operator tells a dance group his story and the men take off after the outlaws.

The posse chases the fleeing bandits and succeeds in shooting one of them. The remaining bandits believe they have outrun their pursuers, dismount, and organize their loot. But, the posse finds and kills them in a fantastic shootout in the woods.

The film is closed with one of the robbers firing straight into the audience, again and again. A thrilling finish to the most exciting film of its time.

The Hunt for Red October (1990)

The best Tom Clancy novel became the best Tom Clancy movie in 1990. The film is an excellent example of structure, characters, theme, and escalating drama.

The movie benefits from Basil Poledouris' excellent score. "Hymn for Red October," is one of my most-played songs in Winamp. Hearing it soar over the beautiful photography of Red October's opening sequence gives me shivers.

The film's opening seconds put a twist on the 'Based on a True Story' technique by introducing the intriguing and highly political situation, then saying, "But according to repeated statements by both Soviet and American governments, nothing of what you are about to see ever happened." This is even more effective than saying 'Based on a True Story.'

The movie begins as far into the story as possible: Captain Ramius has already made his decision (he's going to defect), and he is ready to act. Jack Ryan meets with Admiral Greer to discuss a new Soviet sub that threatens American security.

The movie continues with lots of submarine how-to. Audiences love how-to. Whether or not it belongs this early in the movie is questionable. But that's okay: it quickly becomes more exciting. Ramius kills a political officer so that he can take complete control of his boat and defect, rather than following his orders. And so, the story is set in motion.

The conflict of Red October is several levels deep. Ramius is opposing the Russian government, fighting with his own crew and a saboteur, running from a former student's sub, and trying not to piss off the Americans. Jack Ryan is fighting with his superiors and trying to keep what he thinks is an attacking nuclear submarine from vaporizing Washington D.C. and New York.

Alas, the drama is often created with movie conceits, but they are not so bad that they cannot be overlooked or ignored unless you are looking for fault.

The key to Hunt for Red October's success is it's gradual conversion of all question marks to exclamation points. We begin with: "How will Captain Ramius deal with the political officer?" which resolves into "By killing him!" "What are the unidentified doors in the new Soviet submarine?" becomes "A silent drive that would allow the Russians to sneak up to the American shore and launch nuclear missiles!" This pattern continues throughout the movie, but both the questions and the exclamation points get bigger.

The movie makes good use of its multiple simultaneous storylines to jump through time, only stopping at the most important and exciting moments of each storyline.

The audience is kept abreast of the situation and danger through briefings and offhand comments by the characters. While this might seem too expository, the truth is that audiences in general are not always smart enough to keep up with such a complex story without a little help. And, the audience is watching the movie to be entertained, not to think.

The only break in the suspense really comes in a touching, quiet moment between Ramius and one of his officers, who asks, "Do you think they will let me live in Montana?" Ramius says yes, and the officer continues: "Then I will live in Montana, and I will marry a round American woman, and I will raise rabbits, and she will cook them for me, and I will have a pickup truck." It's a beautiful little moment.

Then, they continue to discuss their dreams as both ships drift within dangerous proximity of each other unknowingly.

The climax arrives when the Red October, an American submarine, an American battleship, and another Soviet submarine converge on one location, none of them quite sure what is happening with the other three. Then, just as the problem is at its worst, the saboteur starts shooting and Ryan and Ramius have to hunt him down before he blows up the ship.

In the end, every question is answered and every conflict is resolved, leaving you with a very satisfied feeling: you've just seen a really good movie.

The Jazz Singer (1927)

The Jazz Singer is a touching tale whose story outshines its technical innovation. While presented in a melodramatic way that might seem dated to modern viewers, the story is one of those great archetypal stories like It's A Wonderful Life or Sullivan's Travels that transcends time and claims a special place in our memory.

Al Jolson's passionate and energetic performance elevates good but not great songs (most memorably, after singing a somber song, he instantly becomes terribly excited about the next number, proclaiming, "You ain't seen nothing yet! Hold on, hold on! You ain't seen nothing yet!")

If feels a bit strange to go from singing/talking sequences back to silence and dialogue cards, but since it was the first of its kind I can be more forgiving here than of Modern Times and others.

The dialogue was one of the many small touches that impressed me. The dialogue for each character is characterized to them, without going overboard into stereotypes. You can usually tell which character is speaking from the dialogue card alone.

I can understand the concern over racism, but the 'blackface' sequences are only about 10 minutes long combined, and you've got to have a serious burr in your ass to be bothered by racism in something 70 years old.

L'Avventura (1960)

This review is also available on my blog.

Disclaimer

I did not read any reviews or essays on L'Avventura before watching it. Indeed, when I popped it into my DVD player, I thought it was an adventure film (due to its title). As such, I may better understand the movie after reading about it later, but I am glad I had the opportunity to record my raw, uninfluenced thoughts on this important film.

In reviewing movies of remarkable quality, I have a habit of focusing on their faults - probably because they stick out more obviously than faults do in 99& of films. So, I must clarify that this is a great movie with wonderful qualities that I don't have time to discuss here, but of which people who've seen the film are aware. Indeed, this review is written for people who have seen the film and wish to analyze and discuss it. While I encourage you to read the review even if you haven't seen the movie, be warned that you may be lost by what the review does not cover.

Review

L'Avventura is very hard for me to review. It's the kind of film that breaks most conventional rules of cinema. The plot never rests on one focused goal. The images are carefully constructed, but I was rarely able to glean any obvious symbolism from them. Despite the dialogue's randomness, the characters don't quite speak like anyone I know (but, I don't know any 1960s upper class Italians). While there are characters that persist throughout the film, a single protagonist cannot be distinguished. It's a film that requires some work to watch and appreciate.

Thankfully, the women in the film are hot as hell.

Ummm... where was I? This is a film that defies typical criterion for review and any comparisons to other films. To say that it's better or worse than anything from La Dolce Vita to Toy Story is nearly impossible. It's clearly an art film.

I've always felt that 'modern art' (or the work of Jan Svankmajer) is, as Moe Syzlak says, "weird for the sake of weird." This film isn't quite the cinematic equivalent of modern art because it has characters, dialogue, scenes, and some kind of plot, but it's closer to Picasso than Hopper.

In my limited cinematic vocabulary, the closest comparison film is Renoir's The Rules of the Game. Both concern bored, self-absorbed upper class people on some kind of 'vacation' (though, their entire lives seem to be a vacation). Neither has a clear, single protagonist. Neither's plot has an obvious, driving purpose. Both films show nearly every major character interacting with every other major character.

One of the consistent devices in the film is that we experience the movie with the characters. That is to say, we are never 'ahead' of the characters. We don't realize that Anna is missing until the characters discover it. We cannot really predict what any of the characters will do until they do it. There is very little music in the film, and certainly no musical 'cues.' All of this means that the audience is not in a superior position to the characters - an approach that draws us into the film. This is very welcome in this otherwise distancing and 'uncomfortable' film (uncomfortable because it is uncharted territory: we cannot 'settle in' with familiar structure or cliche).

Of the distancing elements: most of the film avoids theatrical composition, but there are several moments of over-the-top theatrical staging. These stuck out and repeatedly pulled me out of the movie. There is also a conflict between sequences of focused narrative (which drive the plot, relationships, and characters of the film) and random, unnecessary scenes that seem to exist for an atmosphere or image alone.

That last part brings up an interesting question. Is it acceptable (or indeed, commendable) to abandon plot and character development for a beautiful sunrise or an atmospheric, 'thick air' moment (though with a lack of plot relevance typically associated with such moments), but unacceptable to abadon plot for a hilarious joke (of which today's comedies are often accused) or a thrilling and spectacular action sequence? Is a sunrise worthy of a detour and a spectacular explosion not? I see no reason why this should be - both are capable of equal power and beauty.

I think that the conventional (which, in this film means 'pronounced') moments and devices of the film, by contrast, keep us reminded of its innovation. I can't say, however, whether the effect of the film on the history of cinema or on the audience would have been more powerful had we been left to digest the new cinematic language of the film at its close (rather than at every aforementioned reminder).

I feel the film would be more effective (separated from its historical context and innovation) if the conflicts and inconsistencies discussed above instead worked in communion. It'd be much easier to call this one of the best films of all time if it was both highly innovative and relentlessly excellent and effective when considered apart from is historical context (which is slightly more true of The Rules of the Game).

Part of the problem might be that Antonioni fights a futile battle: L'Avventura may be more similar to a novel than a screenplay. But the expanse of the novel will always lend itself more usefully to the tangents and internalization native to its form than film. Antonioni succeeds marvelously in the visual storytelling native to film, but does not always succeed in bending the medium of film to his will by transforming it into a novel.

I'm not the best, smartest, or most experienced film fan or critic. So, there are a great many things about film, and about this film in particular, that I don't understand. Here's what I do know: (1) the film works on many levels, (2) it's an innovative and highly influential film, (3) it's a difficult film to critique, (4) it's a great film, and (5) it impacted me greatly and represents another major leap in my understanding and appreciation of film.

L'Avventura is a must-see for people who love film, especially those who study film. If your cinematic diet consists of Shrek, The Sixth Sense, and The Godfather, you'll probably have to 'work your way up' to this one.

Team America: World Police (2004)

I was hoping Team America: World Police would be as funny as it is, but I was not expecting it to be so good! It's one of the best studies in Hollywood formula ever put to film. A 'perfectly' (as in, too perfect) structured film and manages to cram in more cliches than any film I've ever seen. What's more, it does them far better than most. Also, because it's spoofing them, these cliches simply work better than the ones that brought Sky Captain to a crushing halt.

The film has an extremely high ratio of jokes that work to ones that don't work (if I were to guess, I'd say 85%). In general, the jokes work best the first couple of times (the first hour of the film), but the film certainly doesn't become a bore at the end as I've heard some complain.

Eventually, Trey and Matt will piss of everyone in the whole world and be sent in a shuttle to the moon. In the meantime, this America-bashing film is actually it's strongest crusader for free speech. I'm surprised that Trey and Matt don't fear civil suits from the dozens of living celebrities they drag through shit in this movie.

This may end up being the best film in my 'also recommended' bracket this year. The only thing keeping it from my 'highly recommended' (or top 10) rating category is that I was repeating the jokes in my head all of tonight and they weren't nearly as funny as the first time - whereas Monty Python and the Holy Grail still cracks me up after 20+ views. Like Shrek and Fahrenheit 9/11, this is one that will date quickly. But right now, it's incredibly relevant, incredibly refreshing, and incredibly entertaining.

House of Flying Daggers (2004)

House of Flying Daggers is beautifully photographed (in an extremely wide aspect ratio) and impeccably choreographed. It's a touching romance, but like Monty Python and the Holy Grail is all about the sketches, House of Flying Daggers is all about the battles. If the sketches are hilarious, Grail works. If the action is spectacular, Daggers works.

In that sense, Daggers definitely works. I haven't seen Hero yet, but the battles here easily eclipse those of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. And, as in Andrei Rublev, animals are used in ways they can't be in the US.

Nearly every frame of the film could be captured and printed as a masterful painting. The colors, as you may have noticed in the trailers, are lush.

House of Flying Daggers is a simple (yet surprisingly well-populated with plot twists), familiar story of lovers and warriors. It's told in a way that transcends not only time, but culture. In fact, anyone from any nation can follow this film sans subtitles (not that I recommend it). In this way, the film is very much a singular artistic rendering of the values and legends that all mankind holds dear - yet another facet of this film's beauty.

But I do have some complaints.

First, the film's structure is too predictable. Here's how it works: (1) short plot scene, (2) long action scene, (3) long romance scene, (4) rinse, remix, repeat. After the first few cycles, it begins to feel too contrived. It's a fantastic painting that fades through to its outline sketches too often. It might have flowed better and less predictably had the exposition, action, and romance been blended into the same scenes more often, ala The Empire Strikes Back.

Spoiler warning on this paragraph. Okay, still reading? Well, I warned you: every single fight scene, along with a few others, is resolved by a 'shank' of some kind flying out of nowhere to immediately dispatch all enemies at the last second. By the end of the film, this technique attained a degree of overuse that was downright laughable. Now, I know it's called Flying Daggers, but come on...

For some, the ending pushes the film's archetypal and familiar poetry too far into meaningless cliche. But, I don't understand how someone can accept the rest of the film and not the ending.

So, it's a great film with a few major, disappointing reservations. If you liked CTHD and Hero, you'll love Daggers.