Na Putu (On The Path), Annie Hall, and Why People Are Still Looking for the “Eggs.” (Midterm Essay)

It’s hard to believe that a Serbian art film, and the cinematic “America’s Sweetheart” of the 1970s may have something in common. Yet, Na Putu (On the Path), and Annie Hall, share a lot more than what the casual viewer would expect. In fact, they share an entire thesis on modern love.

Annie Hall, directed by Woody Allen, was released in 1977 and is about the unlikely relationship between Alvy Singer (Woody Allen), an anxiety-ridden New York born comedian, and Annie Hall (Diane Keaton), a ditzy singer from the Midwest. The film takes on a comedic light-hearted tone to tackle the rise and fall of these two opposites as they discover that it’s just not meant to be.

Na Putu (On the Path), directed by Jasmila Zbanic, is an art film released in 2010 and tells a different story. Set in Bosnia in the wake of a war and genocide that had violated human rights to a degree unseen since World War II, leads Luna (Zrinka Cvitesic) and Amar (Leon Lucev) are unmarried, in love, trying for a baby, and living in their own apartment in Sarajevo. The two seem to heading down a clear path together until Amar runs into an old friend in a parking lot. This friend would eventually introduce him to Wahhabism, a fundamentalist branch of Islam that Luna does not approve of. After this, the differences between Luna and Amar grow to consume their relationship, resulting in a previously unforeseeable dead-end.

In nearly every way from audience response to technical composition, Annie Hall is worlds away from Na Putu (On the Path). Annie Hall is hailed by some as the ultimate romantic comedy, finishing near the top of many critics lists as “The Best Movie of All Time.” Na Putu was never even released in America, and has a total of 37 reviews on IMDb.  Despite this, these films portray universal concepts about relationships that ring true no matter what the source is. Both leads have deep, unignorable, fundamental differences. Both films speak truthfully and have a clear thesis on what they believe is required of a successful relationship. Whether the films sit on opposite ends of the romantic genre spectrum, they both discuss the same ideologies, starting with: in order to maintain a relationship, it’s crucial to want the same things.

Before exploring the fundamental issues of why these relationships both ultimately imploded, it’s important to discuss how these films also successfully reflect on what makes a relationship worthwhile, specifically: “The Good Times.” In Annie Hall, Allen gives the audience a reason to want to see Annie and Alvy together. They’re happy and they want to be. This is shown especially well in the famous “spider scene,” in which Annie calls Alvy over to kill a bug – but it’s really just because she misses his company. Scenes in which the characters show fondness for each other are the driving factors in these film and raise the main question of, “is this feeling enough?” Na Putu does the same thing. Shots of Luna waiting for Amar to call her while she sits in a hotel room, scenes in which they are passionately making love, just the concept of them trying to have a baby together, all of these factors fit the bill.

When discussing the disparities between our two couples and films, issues can be seen in two scenes that are tonally different, but also strikingly similar in set up. The family dinner is a trope so overused in films that it’s become a cliché. However, there is a good reason for this. In Na Putu, the family dinner is at Luna’s Grandmother’s and they are celebrating an Islamic holiday. Amar, who has just returned from his first Wahhabi retreat, begins to resent the sinful, loose interpretations of Islamic tradition as Luna’s family drinks, sings, and gossips. This results in an explosive argument between Luna and Amar, furthering the rift between them and drawing out the issues in their relationship. (For a further explanation on Wahhabism, you can read why here.) Annie Hall has a classic family dinner scene as well. In this one, Alvy is the odd one out, sitting at the table with Annie’s WASPy, mid-western family. Breaking the fourth wall, Alvy refers to Annie’s grandmother as a “classic jew-hater” and even appears dressed as a hasidic jew towards the end of the sequence. While Annie Hall uses irony to convey the discomfort of the sardonic, comedian, his emotions are anything but funny.  

These scenes, as well as others in Annie Hall in which Alvy seems to be obsessively accusing people of being anti-semitic, chip into more thematic similarities with Na Putu. Alvy, Luna, and Amar are all victims of war and Genocide. While Luna and Amar’s connection to their war is much more direct and traumatizing, Alvy also has a connection of his own. Woody Allen himself has spoken out on what it is like to be living in the shadow cast by the Holocaust. Having survived through a time of deep, terrifying anti-semitism, Alvy (who is the same age as Woody canonically) has a specific brand of deeply ingrained paranoia that comes with being Jewish. His attitude towards Annie’s family, accurate or not, will always affect how he views them. This is detrimental to their relationship in the same way that Amar’s new views on Luna’s family are. He’s an outsider there; he doesn’t believe what they believe. And while Alvy isn’t the critical one in his situation, Amar is. This is where the similarities switch sides. Luna and Alvy are both frowned upon, or the “wronged” ones on their side of the relationship. Luna, like Alvy, also has a few open wounds from her experience with the Bosnian War. The difference here is that her traditions aren’t tied in with her religious identity, for her it’s about family – specifically her grandmother – and being alive and enjoying the people she loves.

This also raises this question of why this medium? What does romance do to explore this theme of post-war trauma? In the case of Na Putu, a film that actively uses romance as a device to open up a dialogue about this topic, it’s about intimacy. Relationships have a tendency to bring out the worst and best in people. In the case of Na Putu and Annie Hall, both couples are not only eachothers most frequent companion, but the perfect way to really get insight to the other’s head. The idea of these fatal, major flaws destroying the relationship is also a vehicle to displaying just how damaged our characters are. If Amar is the most important person in Luna’s life, for example, her revulsion to his ideas of Wahhabism must be incredibly strong.

Another undisputable issue for these couples is their desired destinations. Alvy and Annie, from the beginning, don’t seem to think about it too much. Yet, it’s clear that they want different things. Alvy is a stubborn, typical, Seinfeld-style, New Yorker who would rather die than leave his city. Annie is more moldable, willing to chase her dream wherever it takes her. Amar and Luna’s destinations are more conceptual. Amar wants Luna to conform to the Wahhabi lifestyle, but Luna thinks it’s repressive and wants to continue her life the way it is. It’s a make or break point in both their relationships: Annie, acting in California, where there is clearly no space for Alvy in her life anymore; Amar at the Mosque, praying amongst men, earnest to get right with God. The unfortunate aspect of this is that both Annie and Amar are more fulfilled away from their significant others. Annie always wanted to sing and is now amongst the flighty, stargazing, Californians she’s more suited for. Amar, who was an alcoholic struggling with his post-war memories, no longer drinks and feels happier and healthier than ever. Alvy and Luna can only cope so well with these changes, especially when they seem to hit their expiration dates.

So is love enough? Annie Hall’s thesis is yes and no. While no, Annie and Alvy ultimately fail as a couple, the pursuit of love is not dead. This is expressed in the speech delivered at the end of the film by Alvy:

“It reminds me of that old joke- you know, a guy walks into a psychiatrist’s office and says, hey doc, my brother’s crazy! He thinks he’s a chicken. Then the doc says, why don’t you turn him in? Then the guy says, I would but I need the eggs. I guess that’s how I feel about relationships. They’re totally crazy, irrational, and absurd, but we keep going through it because we need the eggs.”

Alvy admits that he knows relationships are insane. People do non-sensical things for eachother just for the concept of love. He accepts himself as one of those people, someone who “needs the eggs,” or believes the idea that two people can fulfill each other enough to make them permanently happy. Na Putu, though starkly real and shows what could be the official break-up between Luna and Amar at the end of the film, also shows belief in the “eggs.” The very last scene shows Luna looking up hopefully at the balcony after getting off her work plane. Last time we were shown the balcony, Amar was waiting for Luna on it. This time, the shot cuts to black before we see if Amar is waiting for her or not. For the case of the doomed relationship and what may be best for the characters as individuals, Amar shouldn’t be up there if he chose the path for himself. However, what if like Alvy, he needs the eggs?

The viewers never find out if Amar is on the balcony or not, or if Alvy finds someone else to fill the Annie Hall void. Yet, the messages of these films are both clear. People are going to look for love, whether or not it’s in the right places. The films, side-by-side, map out the deconstruction of two romantic relationships, yet they also leave room for hope at the end. The differences between Amar and Luna and Annie and Alvy weren’t easy solves, the struggles were real, and the emotional bonds were, well, they weren’t for nothing.  

_________________________________________________________________

Sources:

“Jewish Book Council.” David Evanier on Woody Allen’s References to His Jewish Identity, Anti-Semitism, and the Holocaust in His Films. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 May 2016.

“Of Women and Wahhabism: The Strange Backwardness of Saudi Arabia.”Of Women and Wahhabism: The Strange Backwardness of Saudi Arabia. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 May 2016

 

Forrest Gump Review- Final Project

How do you review an American Classic?

Like it’s an American Classic.

(Watch Trailer Here)

Forrest Gump, released in 1996 and directed by Robert Zemeckis, is about the life of none other than Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks.) As we encounter the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s through his child-like perspective(he has an IQ of 75,) the viewer gets to experience a slice of American history from an honest and distinctive point of view.

Forrest Gump’s story is told mostly through a series of flashbacks. We see him defy the odds multiple times, from running spinal braces off his legs, to inventing Bubba Gump shrimp, we learn he is “different” in a multitude of ways. These flashbacks create a very focused viewing experience. Forrest is showing us his past, everything we see is purely and fully from his memory. With this set up, the films turns into somewhat of a great big fish story – minus the skepticism.

That being said, Forrest Gump, as a film, can almost be regarded as a fixture of American culture. This is a film that has not only one of the most well known movie quotes in the english language, (“Life is like a box of chocolates….” you know the rest,) but it lines up thematically with our country’s ideas. Hard work, luck, and a high moral code give way to achieving success/and/or “The American Dream.” Along with this, it fits the typical Hollywood production formula, packed with notable actors such as Tom Hanks, Robin Wright, and Sally Field. This film is just as big a spectacle as it is a heartfelt story. It even has a tearjerker, full-circle, happy ending, laced with just the right amount of tragedy.

However, don’t perceive this film’s “hollywood-ness” as it’s downfall. Forrest Gump is a film that leaves it’s mark. It’s inspiring, funny, and never boring. Tom Hanks is so incredibly likable, with his soft spoken, choppy speech patterns, and his pure intentions and unadulterated love for Jenny. You watch the world crumble around him, supporting characters endure real pain, and you and Forrest both empathize with them fully. Yet, Forrest remains thoroughly optimistic. Oblivious to his impact on those around him, and only understanding a fraction of who he is, he is ultimate the unlikely hero.

Another (unlikely) hero of this film is Joanna Johnston, costume designer of Forrest Gump. Partnered with Zemeckis, they manage to create a portrayal of the past that seems so real that I actually thought that Forrest Gump met John F. Kennedy when I was younger. Of course I was seven, but still. It’s not easy to do a “period piece” without making a parody of that that generation. There is a very thin line between the style of Mad Men and the style of Wet Hot American Summer. With well crafted sets and costumes, Forrest Gump manages to walk that line successfully.

That’s a part of what makes Forrest Gump such a pleasant viewing experience: balance. It’s the full package, both delicate and heavy, both light and dark, Forrest Gump takes on its subject matter confidently. Zemeckis takes the genre of “historical fiction” to the next level as well by inserting Forrest into real life historical events like teaching Elvis Presley how to dance, or the inventing the “Have a Nice Day” t-shirt. He has fun with the generations that he covers, serving the audience the good parts of the past and scrapping whatever might be dull. Basically, this is how you want your history class to be taught, even if it’s not 100 percent accurate.

All in all, Forrest Gump, really is a typical Hollywood film. Every element is in place, from celebrity appearances, pristine special effects, and a prolific director, this is the stuff Robert Altman made his satirical comedy, The Player, about. However, pointing out how manufactured a product is doesn’t make it a bad one. In fact, maybe in the case of Forrest Gump, it’s what makes it so damn good.

Life is Beautiful (La Vita é Bela) Review- Final Project

I’m going to start off right away by saying that La Vita é bela (directed by Roberto Benigni) is not a “holocaust film.”

(Watch Trailer Here)

This film starts suddenly. A scene setter with a whirlwind, chance scenario, almost too slapstick to believe. You’ll laugh at it. Then it continues to unravel like a beautiful dream sequence, following the unlikely romance between Guido (also, Roberto Benigni) and his future wife Dora (Nicoletta Braschi also, Benigni’s real wife) until it’s descent into nightmare territory, hints of impending doom laced into this “tragicomic drama comedy” (thanks, Wikipedia) in nuanced, unexpected ways.

So why isn’t La Vita é bela a holocaust film? Simply, it’s because it isn’t “about” the holocaust. It’ about the unshakable spirit of one individual. Other films in this category such as Schindler’s List or The Boy in the Striped Pajamas star the historical event centrally, placing characters, themes, and all of the other elements of life around it. What Benigni does in this film is place Guido’s story in the center, framing the holocaust as an obstacle in the life of his family, rather than an all encompassing force.

This is expertly done. Especially in the second half of the film, in which Guido and his son Giosue (Giorgio Cantarini) navigate the concentration camp like it’s a game. It’s a powerful message, much larger than “making light” of tragedy. This film invents a character who stands his ground, stays true to himself to the very end. He never gives in to any forces other than the ones he choses to be worthwhile (his son, and his wife.) It’s genuine, moving and beautiful enough to bring tears to the eyes of anyone who watches.

The colors of this movie follow it’s plot. The first half of the film, which focuses primarily on the love story between Guido and Dora, is sunny and bright. The streets have a golden, almost fairytale glow to them. The charm of of the city never fades, the film taking it’s only turn into grey territory once Guido is taken to the concentration camps. This is when Benigni really shines as an actor, breathing life into the dull appearance of the film with his slapstick, clown antics. He’s genuinely, very funny. Upon reflection, this is the first foreign film that I wished that it was in english, so I could experience the full punch of his punchlines, or hear the wit dripping off of his skillfully delivered dialogue.

Benigni’s use of comedy is also what sets La Vita é bela apart from other films of it’s kind. It’s done with respect to its subject matter, never impeding on inappropriate or cringe-worthy territory. This isn’t a mean spirited humor, there isn’t one joke cracked at the expense of the jewish people. In fact, one of the more subtly comic aspects of this film is the lack of subtitles for the German Nazi’s. There is no translation, in fact, unless you just happen to know German, there is no way of knowing what they’re saying at all – turning them into useless, unimportant figureheads reminiscent of any adult figures that were voiced on Charlie Brown. All you hear is wah, wah, wah, wah, wah. Which is not only hilarious, but builds on the theme of La Vita é bela being Guido’s story: The Nazi’s are so unimportant and terrible, they don’t even deserve one relatable line.

I don’t know how accurate this film is in reference to World War II. From the standpoint of someone who was born nearly fifty years after the events that took place and only has a high school education on the matter, everything seemed as correct as it needed to be. Either way, it wouldn’t be the first time someone took a couple of liberties with a film and changed history (I’m looking at you Tarantino.) There is a lot that the viewer is soften to accept when watching La Vita é bela, which is something I’ve come to notice with a lot of great films. When handed a satchel of unlikely scenarios, you accept them willingly as a reality. This film does this and more, causing you to not only invest in this film, but laugh with it too. Even through all of the tears.  

Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge Review- Final Project

The english translation of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge is The Big-Hearted Will Take Away the Bride. However, with a movie on such a large scale that only a cultural giant like India could take it on successfully, that small statement seems to only capture of fraction of what this film contains.

(Watch Trailer Here)

Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (DDJL) is a Bollywood film directed by Aditya Chopra released in 1995. It starts out in London, with Simran (Kajol), a sheltered girl who is set to married a man she has never met before, and Raj (Shah Rukh Khan), a free spirited, college flunk out who is just looking for a good time. The two start as strangers, meeting by chance on a train to Switzerland for a month long trip, but soon – the inevitable happens. And that’s only the first half of the film.

I’m going to start out by saying that I know that one of the more well known elements of Bollywood films is that they are superfreakin’ long. DDLJ is a full three hours, equipped with long musical numbers, dramatic overtures, and even an intermission that makes the film seem like it’s two separate features being screened back to back. However, since I’ve joined binge-watching culture and sat through the entirety of Interstellar, a 181 minute feature isn’t as daunting as it would’ve seemed a few years ago. In fact, I think DDJL benefits majorly from its length in ways that american romantic comedies lack.

A common downfall for Hollywood rom-coms is creating a believable romance. The viewer wants to feel the love radiating off their two leads; we want to be swept up in the drama, we want to believe that there is nothing more important going on in this film than a happy ending in which everyone ends up together. DDJL achieves this, and this can be for many different reasons (the natural chemistry between Khan and Kajol, the witty dialogue, the sensual dance numbers) but when it boils down, it’s the length. Not only do you get to see Raj and Simran fall in love, but you get to see them fight for eachother. When Raj appears in that field of flowers, your heart actually starts racing. It’s like if there was a Meet The Parents prequel that showed Greg (Ben Stiller) and Pam (Teri Polo) falling in love properly. This would make the stakes feel much higher when Greg is a terrible water volleyball player, wouldn’t it?

Stakes are high in the second half of DDLJ. Taking on a much more dramatic tone, the film feels like it’s walking a very tight line as Simran’s wedding approaches. Khan and Kajol both give amazing performances, welcoming in a bit of that fun, Bollywood campiness into their dance numbers but also being fearlessly raw. Also, it’s oddly refreshing to watch a man cry on the big screen, especially for love, so I’d like to thank DDJL for breaching that normally uncharted territory.

Perhaps one of the more enjoyable elements of this film is the fact that it lacks that plucky American spirit. It’s shamelessly soft, thriving on it’s own cliche mushiness. This is a film about love, growth, sacrifice, family, and even the fight scene at the end is delivered with a safe amount of corniness. You never once are too worried Raj and Simran won’t end up together. In fact, it’s edited almost like a Disney Princess film: Simran wonders where her one true love is, and the sequence shifts over to Raj, in another part of London, stating clearly that in this universe – he is the man of her dreams. Music swells when they look into each other’s eyes, fate pulls them together over and over again in ways that can only happen in the world of a rom-com. DDLJ doesn’t shy away from it’s identity. It doesn’t try to be different, or edgy. It’s pure and nice, embracing it’s medium to develop characters and relationships in a charming way.

This movie also has a fun color pallette. Bright, lots of contrast, and full of life, everything from the way the camera zooms in on the exaggerated expression of the actors, to the strategically placed special effects when Raj and Simran hold hands for the first time is theatrical. That’s one of the best things about Bollywood films, in my opinion. It seems like everyone, from the cinematographer to the sound editor, put not only a lot of thought – but a lot of their own style. And no, it’s not “stylized” in a modern sense, but it’s pleasing to senses in an undeniable way. All in all, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge is a movie that leaves it’s mark. There is a reason it’s still being played at Mumbai’s Maratha Mandir Theater for after nearly 20 years.  

Amélie Review- Final Project

So this is what they were talking about when they said, “let’s make movie magic!”

 

(Watch Trailer Here)

 

Amelie, directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, is a romantic comedy that came out in 2001 and is still the highest grossing foreign film to hit American theaters. It tells the tale of a shy waitress (named Amelie, of course) who assumes the role as puppet master to her neighborhood friends, bringing them all to their destinies while Amelie (Audrey Tautou) discovers her own. It’s a story of many players, many quirks, and just enough tricks. Colorful in every aspect, Amelie manages to create something live action films rarely do: a convincing fantasy.

 

This film is atmospheric in a way that is most comparable to Wes Anderson’s work, from my personal experience. Jeunet and Anderson’s films both rely heavily on set design, color, cinematography, and a certain level of whimsy that’s noticeable, but not necessarily distracting. Everything is coordinated to perfection. Amelie succeeds in inventing its own, distinctive universe. Tragedy is felt, but with a gentle, child-sized hand. For example, the scene of Amelie’s mother’s death is completely ridiculous in a way that could almost come off callous, but instead it translates as more of a soft explanation for death. Romantic comedies need a certain amount of emotion to be romantic, after all, and without being manipulative or forcing it, Amelie lays it on lightly and pleasantly.

Tautou’s performance ties the film together well. From her delicate ability to portray a certain level of goofiness while retaining the audience’s attention in a serious manner, to rocking that bizarre (but super french) haircut, she really became Amelie. It’s not annoying when she’s shy, but it’s utterly devastating when she’s sad. Tautou sits comfortably at the heart of this film, which is important in a universe that has so many different tones and temperaments.

Amelie is so much fun, too. There are so many characters to root for, dispise, laugh at, and empathize with. There is a narrator, there are fourth wall breaks. It’s also fearless with it’s humor. Jeunet isn’t afraid to shock the viewer with a montage of raunchy orgasms, or a include a cut away in which Amelie’s love interest, Nino (Mathieu Kassovitz), is a black-and-white russian hobo on a mountain. Jokes pack a relatable punch too, one that made me think over and over again: “Okay, so maybe I do that little weird thing too.”

Something you’ll notice if you watch this film is that it’s pretty damn green. And that’s not a saying, there is so much green in this film that I checked my television’s white balance halfway through, just to make sure it wasn’t broken. This is due to the filmmaker’s use of digital intermediate, which is a camera lensing method used to manipulate color and other image characteristics. It’s a subtle element that adds to this film’s other-worldliness. Amelie’s color is green, she is lively and growing, so it fits. Nino’s color is red, he is romantic and full of passion. Digital intermediate not only adds to the aesthetic of Amelie, but adds a richness to the subtext film that makes it worth a second viewing, or ten.

Throughout this film, there is no question or doubt that things will work out for our lead. You want to watch her succeed and you will. Normally, this would be considered a bad thing, films should contain a certain level of opacity, or suspense to keep us interested. But not Amelie. This is a nice movie. Bright, cheery, uplifting, and full of hope, it’s proof that good things are always in the works.  

 

Oldboy Review (Final Project)

 

Isn’t it funny that when I just begin to dip my toes into foreign cinema, I’m hit with the most disturbing, life-ruining, plot twist I’ve ever experienced in my life? I think it’s pretty funny.

Anyway.

(Watch Trailer Here)

 

Oldboy, directed by Chan-Wook Park, was released in South Korea in 2003 and earned high acclaim from critics and audience members alike. It follows Oh Dae-su (Min-sik Choi), a once average man, after he is released from 15 years of imprisonment – and that’s only the start of it. The questions raised here go beyond the simple, pragmatic ones such as who, what, when, where, and why he was kidnapped. This is a film about humanity, consequence, and most pungently, the price of revenge. None of the answers to these questions bring satisfaction. Rather, they make you want to retreat back to a place of blissful ignorance.

Technically, Oldboy takes place in our universe. However, the happenings within the film, paired with certain editing choices, suggest somewhat otherwise. The two leads fall in love moments after meeting? Sure. Hypnotism works? Fine. Man covered in blood limps down the street and no one bats an eye? Seems likely. So yes, It may seem a bit too weird to handle at first. However, once you suspend your beliefs a bit, and get out of that mainstream, western cinema mindset, this off-kilter sense of reality is wildly entertaining.

It’s a beautiful film. Even the gore is beautiful. Editor Sang-beom Kim and cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung shine here, making interesting choices and taking risks not regularly scene in Western cinema. This is really showcased in the scene in which Oh Dae-su is fighting off a hoard of unskilled hit men. The entire thing is one long shot, following Dae-su as he kicks major ass but also gets his ass majorly kicked. It’s refreshing to watch an action scene with such a head on point of few. While the shot was probably harder to create than your traditional action scene, the outcome is a minimalist, raw fight. You watch everything happen at once, as if it’s unfolding before you organically. It’s an effect that should really be utilized more.

The ironic thing about this film’s beauty is that at the center of it sits a story of ugly secrets. It’s utterly foul, entering waters that even daring directors such as Quentin Tarantino or even John Waters wouldn’t dare to tread. Without giving anything away, it’s almost difficult to express the visceral disgust and anger I felt while watching. When the final twist was revealed, I had to pause the film and take a serious break. Yet, the film redeems itself with it’s awareness.

Oldboy knows how unforgiving it is to it’s characters. You’re sucked into the same emotions as Dae-su in his most pathetic states, you wonder how someone could be so cruel, or even imagine a way to implant so much horror into someone’s life. You almost want him to die, which is something I’ve never experienced with a hero while watching a film. It’s an odd sensation, but in the state of irredeemable pain Dae-su winds up in, you can’t help but pray he escapes his misery in some way.

However, that’s what makes Oldboy the effective film it is. The emotions are so high, and the action is so artfully done, the viewer is hypnotized. Especially since the story unfolds in such a suspenseful, fast-paced manner. There is no way of knowing what’s around the corner, but it’s guaranteed to make you think long and hard after.

That brings me to the performances in this film. Min-sik Choi transforms into Dae-su, his performance is characteristic of Leonardo DiCaprio’s in The Revenant. He plays this role with a sort of dignity that’s hard to achieve, especially during the parts that Dae-su is at his most pathetic. Mi-do (Hye-jeong Kang) is very convincing as well, holding her own with fantastic and much needed comedic timing.

Oldboy, aside from being so heavily packed with depth and detail, is also a class A gorefest. From the body horror of ants crawling beneath Dae-su’s skin, and the (spoiler alert, I couldn’t help myself) tongue removal, this film taps into the innermost discomforts of violence. Though it is heavily stylized, that doesn’t detract from the genuine revulsion of these scenes. For disturbing movie enthusiasts, or those who enjoy exploitation horror, Oldboy can be hailed as an arthouse-style homage to their genre. For the average viewer, like me, whose experience with gore doesn’t go much further than the first installment of the Saw franchise, I’d stay away from food while watching.

One of the most notable aspects of this film is it’s use of aesthetically pleasing words and sentences. Quotes that, luckily, are not lost in translation. The characters speak proverbially, spinning wisdom in memorable dialogue such as, “Even though I am not more than a monster – do I not have the right to live?” Or, “Be it a rock or a grain of sand, in water they sink the same.” The list goes on, and when accompanied with moments of humanity (such as Mi-do’s comforting spirit, or the drive of the Dae-su to love and endure despite his circumstances) Oldboy becomes an oddly optimistic film that’s one of a kind, even if it has a shot for shot American remake.

 

Why We Love Pixar- Video Essay

Why We Love Pixar from Jordan Allen on Vimeo.

Mad Max: Fury Road (Review)

 

Mad Max: Fury Road is a film so turbulent that it should come with a warning label. It’s fast, it’s cutting, it’s brutal and heavy in nearly every aspect.

 

Released in May, 2015, the fourth installment of the Mad Max series is arguably what director George Miller has been working towards for the past 17 years. It is an action film in it’s purest form. There isn’t a second to breathe, check your texts, or really let your mind wander to anything but the (literally) explosive plot unfolding before you. We meet Max (Tom Hardy) in medias res, after he rips the head off of a two headed lizard and is enslaved as a “blood bag.” Then, we are thrown into the darkest corner of all dystopian societies. The images are disturbing, makeup – superb – as Max finds his way to Furiosa (Charlize Theron,) a rebellious woman forging a path for her and her fellow female prisoners, home.

 

As I mentioned before, this film doesn’t stop. It’s a full two hours of fire and desert-sand tornados. There is no narrative explanation, no part in which one character transparently explains setup to make sure us viewers understand what’s going on. As far as Mad Max is concerned, you’re on your own, pal. Don’t let this lead you to believing this detracts from the story, though. While, yes, it does feel as though you’ve been thrown into the middle of a fiery debate, it’s an interesting one. Or, at least, one worth sacrificing a little extra brainpower to grasp.

 

I’ve never seen another Mad Max film. Admittedly, I’m not much of an expert on action films either. So when I say, “I’ve never seen anything like this,” it’s not an exaggeration. The world built by Miller is so immersive and harsh that you can’t help but accept it as reality. Elements of it, specifically select lines of dialogue and the approach of the actors, are reminiscent of a video game. Specifically a part in the beginning between Nux (Nicholas Hoult) and his friend Slit (Josh Helman) are discussing whether or not they should join the brigade to go after Furiosa. The sound editing is loud and clear over the constant rush of the mobilizing forces, the intentions of Nux are animated and clear in way you know nothing will stop him. You can see why Mad Max picked up an oscar for “Best Achievement in Sound Mixing.”

 

This is a must see. No other dystopian action film is like this, right now. It’s not The Hunger Games, it’s not Taken. It’s Mad Max: Fury Road, and it’s going to make your heart pound and your mind race with every relentless minute.

Paprika is One Hell of a Spice (Review)

In short, Paprika (2006) doesn’t make much sense. It’s twisted, bright, blindingly colorful and jam-packed with characters that are almost never who they say they are. It should be bad, it should be a mess – but it’s not. It’s a carefully constructed expression of entropy, as well as a lesson in why western cinema should start exploring the animation medium a bit further.

Paprika, directed by Satoshi Kon, is an anime thriller based on a novel written by Yasutaka Tsutsui of the same name. The plot follows Chiba Atsuko (Megumi Hayashibara) and her dream alter-ego, Paprika, as they try to track down the person who stole the “DC-Mini,” a device that grants access to people’s dreams. There is more to this, of course. A troubled cop by the name of Toshimi Konakawa, (Akio Otsuka) who is trying to find the underlying cause of a recurring nightmare. There is Tokita Kohasaku, an impeccably overweight, genius, man-child (I know it’s a lot, but stay with me.) The chairman in charge of the DC-Mini research, who is literally confined to a chair. And, well, the list goes on.

Despite all the elements that seem to float pointlessly in mid-air, by the film’s conclusion, everyone and everything has a place. It’s not the most neatly folded ending, but it does it’s job in leaving the viewer with just enough to room to think about it for a long time after. Paprika, amongst other things, is a think piece. Whether or not you believe in Freudian dream theories or manifestation, Paprika manages to touch upon a plethora of other questions. It goes into how women are treated in society, or the idea of the constructed “dream girl.” It divulges into the center of ugly desires, things that you might want but don’t want to want. It blurs the lines between dreams, reality, and straight-up delusion.

These themes are expertly portrayed through Kon’s use of animation. In American cinema, it’s rare that the animation medium is used in a serious context. While there are mainstream cartoons that do explore adult themes, (Family Guy, The Simpsons, or Bob’s Burgers, to name a few) they are almost all twenty-minute episode TV shows, satirical comedies, and just generally don’t take themselves very seriously.

Paprika, however, carries itself like any other film would. The only difference from something live-action is that the animation is used to flesh out certain themes that otherwise may have been lost in translation. This can be seen through the fantastical elements planted throughout the film, such as stretching walls, the expressions on the character’s faces, the characters physical appearances, or effects that would be high budget and require copious amounts of CGI to recreate in live-action. Paprika, if not it’s anime self, would have lost a huge chunk of what makes it an effective and whimsical film.

Ex Machina Podcast

 

Jordan and Marla go deep on the themes and meanings of Alex Garland’s 2015 film Ex Machina.