Not so much a linear narrative as a Polanski-themed instructional video for how to poke and prod in huts and castles in and around Transylvania. Hosted by two "nuts" (as they're constantly referred to), who give a definitive new meaning to the term "bumbling", this semi fluff manages to eradicate its one-sided yelp for camp through the wonders of art direction. Could easily to pass for a hammer film- except for the humor which could only come from Polanski (who, incidentally, stars as the more faint of the two title characters). As it sinks into spoofsville (the fast motion and elaborate ball sequences are particularly sweet touches), the whole essence of it - score and all - become sort of a host for entertainment; a goof ball Vampire movie before the menage-a-trois of kitsch, superb sets and noted actors having some "time off" became something of an enflamed fad. By the end, I really sorta just liked the film - repetitiveness and all - for what it was: Polanski honing his non legendary style. Special props for Jack MacGowan as the professor whose appearance is often even more striking than the quasi intellectual grabs for self appreciation that come out of his frozen little lips.

Though it had no trouble putting my wife to sleep, the new Criterion transfer of the W.C. Fields movie widely considered to be "accessible" and, in jest I'm sure, "his most accomplished work"; I was still in awe that Fields can take a state of drunkenness and make the dysfunction and utter chaos of his lifestyle and surroundings seem funny. Special moments include when he inherits the duty of director while drinking in a bar before noon, his plot to keep a bank auditor sick and the trademark cruelty to children that starts with a tug on his suit and ends with him shaking his fist at his ten year old daughter, sharply retorting "Course I love you!" (can anyone present me with title of a current animated sitcom that highly resembles this kind of humor?). This may not be his best film (even at a scant 72 minutes there is air and plenty of it) or his most "accessible film" (I reserve that honor for 'It's a Gift' or 'You Can't Cheat an Honest Man'), but 'The Bank Dick' is the one most people can remember when faced with a Fields' quiz, so I suppose the good people at Criterion are justified in only restoring this one, you know - the popular one. Personally, I think  'Never Give a Sucker an Even Break', the most feverishly outlandish of his films, would have been a better choice for digital transformation of black and white smoothness. But who's asking me anyhow?

The talk about its general line reading which recalls a more modern approach (as Branagh would do with 'Hamlet' for the play's first full text film adaptation) seems to be all you can find written on this film anymore. But by comparison to the Olivier version (which I've never completely embraced, but you can be sure the producers of 'Shakespeare in Love' have), this film has an immediate passion and an intense affection for Shakespeare that most Bard boosters lack. It is clear that Branagh, who paces the film as a director nearly as skillfully as he enlivens it as an actor, has the chops to make Shakespeare films. Even here in 2000, his 'Love's Labour's Lost' is a brilliant and wonderfully enjoyable musical fantasy that sings with lightness and freedom of expression. I think it was when I realized during 'Henry V's overbearing battle sequence that the close-ups and intimate photography were meant to show us the kinship of these characters - especially as the whole thing added up by battlefield time - and did it in a way that, quite frankly, brought tears of admiration to my eyes. The way Branagh pulls the whole thing off (and then drops hints of future greatness in that wooing scene between he and a French Emma Thompson) just made me stand back and gaze. I could watch the damn thing over again as soon as it ended. Great cast, too (Judi Dench and Ian Holm especially).

Forthcoming.

(International Cinema Limited : Iranian Films, Part 1)

(International Cinema Limited : Iranian Films, Part 2)

Wonderfully enveloped film brimming with surprises and some brief inoculations of bitter disappointment (for example, how well it handles complexity until it comes to ending the whole Riverboat gambling saga - too predictable for my taste). Gibson is suited in this role as in most that he undertakes - no fear of seeing a needless ploy for art, everything is fun and games - mostly fun. Jodie Foster, James Garner and James Coburn are all delicious satires of Western genre characters while Graham Greene, an actor as likable as Gibson himself, arises as a Native American with the sense of goofiness and greed that creates a paradox as richly entertaining as the one which arises at the film's end : There's always a bigger fish. As usual, you put off the ones you have the most fun with; or is it that they're the most fun because you put them off?

That a film like this would be lauded (even by a terrifically sub par trash rag like Film Threat) even as a work of superb photography (which is about all it appears to set out to accomplish) - is a hard concept to choke on. 'Six String Samurai', though its main character is kinda cool - yet so one dimensional, we can almost see the card board leg holding him up - is a film that starts out with a rigorously Mad Max-ish plot (post apocalyptic, resources scarce - the whole bit) and fades into one rehashed samurai battle sequence after another, most of them resembling each other to the letter (boredom ensues, don't'cha know). Yeah, I know, that could be read as lampooning and, sure, I'd love to endorse a film that works as satire - don't get me wrong - but maybe it's something about the inclusion of that damn little kid that, through a faded, almost non sequential character arc, the main character is supposed to feel for. Maybe that's my tough spot. Maybe it's something else altogether. I think it is. I think that it's the fact that 'Six String Samurai' is pure flash - it looks expensive but it plays like a bad home movie. And the pre-amble logo for Palm Pictures - it will play in your head for days on end.

George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg are major stars. They make working-class heroes just as well as they make sturdy, lovelorn pediatricians and unstable, self obsessed porn stars (sort out the "respectably" yourself). And hey people, I love both of them to death. Watching this film that I've all but spit polished on it's pedestal since I've seen it, I can't help but feel I've made a grievous error in even suggesting it has an ounce of quality to it (never mind the head bloated Joseph Conrad parallel I sorta drew - sorry about that). In its favor, when the boat's on the water and the machismo gears are shifting, spray and waves clobbering these fierce men of the sword boat business - 'The Perfect Storm' is on. However (and this is a loud, colorful "how-ever"), the film happens to take a good thirty-two minutes to get them on the sea (very little of merit occurs during this time. Let me re-phrase that: Very little that isn't utterly laughable happens during this time). When they do get on the ocean, there are occasional moments of fishing intuition that seem to work - and guys on the sea together, bitchin' and moanin' - I had forgotten that male camaraderie was indeed supposed to be corny. Score another point for the winning side. Perhaps the inter cutting between search and rescue teams, worried kin to the fisherman and weather service guys doesn't hold quite as well on video since the intensity loses its flair on a small screen as opposed to the gigantic one, but nevertheless - people in peril = excitement. Horner's score is overused - but it is a good score - (is this purposefully mean to evoke images of that other film about a boat where hundreds of people die). And admittedly, there is a part of me that says a film this utterly implausible (calling the spade a spade again, back away from the vehicle!) should follow suit and have a happy ending. Maybe that's my biggest pat on the back I can give it : the ending, surrounding one of the most uneven films in recent memory, is genuinely haunting and absolutely moving. Is this is the same kind of manipulation exhibited in films like 'Pay it Forward' - I don't think so. 'The Perfect Storm' has an achievement on it's horizon which that film will never be granted : This looks dangerously close to this year's entry in the "Bad Movies We Love" genre. (Some former winners include it's sister film 'Twister' as well as 'Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves', 'Home Alone' and, indeed, 'Titanic'.)

(While we're on the subject, I had thought about putting 'The Patriot' or 'What Lies Beneath' in this category, but each exhibit far too much like ability and skill that isn't grounded in embarrassment value in order to qualify. 'Gladiator' was a thought, but I'm not so sure that it isn't just plain atrocious filmmaking (though I'm looking forward to a repeat viewing to settle this score for good). I even planned a coronation ceremony for 'Mission to Mars' as a permanent runner-up because it is so bad, it's laughable, almost "campy" fun. But I haven't seen 'Battlefield Earth', which may snatch such a prize up from under 'Mission to Mars'. I'll keep you posted.)

A ton more admiration watching this experiment in my own home. Even though the music wasn't booming from the 10 ton magic speakers of an IMAX screen and the image wasn't four stories tall - what emanates heavily from 'Fantasia 2000' is the skill of direction exhibited. Even in the film, the ideas that were scrapped are presented ('Ride of the Valkaries' was a cinch to dump - Wagner was anti-everything and that doesn't sit well with Dizz-ney). Doesn't take a genius to make the connection of good choices, though and what is left in the film is absolutely riveting entertainment. Even the episodic nature (which I was quick to critique it for on my first viewing) works for me. Every sequence - even 'The Sorcerer's Apprentice' (whose inclusion leans towards a bloated nostalgic timelessness I'm not sure fits here) only gently lags among new-agish computer animation that so seamlessly follows the fold of the music. And as before, it is the Donald Duck/Noah's Ark sequence, set to "Pomp & Circumstance", that brings the tears a-flowin' to my eyes. What inspired animation.. 'Fantasia 2000' is a Disney movie as the intellectual's dream : awe aspiring imagery, solid musical choices and a synthesis only well respected and brilliant animators could create. Stands next to the original film honorably.

the original review of 'Fantasia 2000'

(International Cinema Limited : Iranian Films, Part 3)

Love the fact that the first act plays like an indie flick (incidentally, so does most of 'Unbreakable'), but the film is decidedly a studio picture. Movies where the main character does what he pleases, smiles and utters great little quips ("Stop it, I'm getting misty") - these are the movies that usually let me down; but Helgeland's film, which I saw in the theater and found to be good - not great, is like 'Fight Club'-lite : Everyone in it does the sadistic, brutal, unconscionably prick-ish stuff we enjoy seeing on film (you know, cuz it's not real). 'Payback' is a cartoon. A big, nasty, puggish, darkly colored cartoon. Helgeland delighted us in 'L.A. Confidential' by co-writing a big budget film noir that could stand alongside the original classics of the 1940's. In 'Payback', he taps the B-noir reservoir of exploitation gold, a super twist of gangster throwaways and seventies character driven crime dramas. It doesn't always work (the S&M stylings of Gregg Henry and Lucy Liu are just plain silly) - but when its on, it sports scenes like the one where Mel Gibson shoots William Devane based on Kris Kristofferson's speakerphone denial to a request for the money Gibson was owed. It's when it's down, dirty and completely taboo less that 'Payback' rocks.

the original review of 'Payback'

Brief and deconstructing, one foul swoop to get the point across. Listen to the music at the end of 'Gladiator'. Be the flaneur, sink your eyes into the digital wonderland of epic spectacles this film has to offer, the Rome of textbooks and dreams. And behold the concise, altogether beautifully macho performance of Russell Crowe. All in vain. I think, having experienced all these elements for the second time - which have significant and souring promise all in one - I've reached the conclusion I've been searching for : the only thing in 'Gladiator' that's even close to real is it's story arc. You can feel it like the spine of a mammal. The film opens, reaches climax  and it ends. And all you can really grab onto as 'Gladiator' stammers, kicks and gurgles, desperately trying to regain footing - is the fact that it began, it proceeded and it ended. Unlike the henceforth dubbed 'sword and sandal epics' of the 1960's ('Spartacus', 'The Fall of the Roman Empire', 'Ben-Hur', 'El Cid'), 'Gladiator' isn't the least bit interesting when it sways from it's direct center of interest, namely : the gladiatorial matches, which thunder as balletically staged moments of pure digression in a film as dry as the sand on which its characters fight and die. I was troubled to see that, while certainly in earnest (though boring, let's out with it), Ridley Scott's film had three writers chasing it into the final cut. In no recent film could I feel a hassle like this more. Three drafts, each clearly written at vastly different times in production, 'Gladiator' must've been three different films: one at the beginning, one proceeding and the one you see at the end. Unfortunately, while the beautiful music falsely incites us to feel the emotion, and Russell Crowe has earned it (and digi-Rome does looks fabulous) - that a film could only exist on these three lifeless skeletons stretched across such a broad spectrum makes it all the more infuriating to discard. It actually feels like three visions fighting to turn your head. All that remains are the "man is presented with challenge", "man lives up to challenge" and "man defeats enemy" themes. In a film that's one hundred fifty minutes long, I'm thinking I should take more such vagaries.

One more amendment, written 11/20:
( I think it has moved into the forefront - above 'The Perfect Storm' even - of grabbing this year's coveted booby prize : the prestigious "'bad movie I love' of the year". This film doesn't suck because it has three writers. On a more positive spin, it works in parts - rather than a whole - because the collaborative scenario compilation has given us three visions of a story, adding scenes that (unbelievably) do not jive with each other. Ridley Scott, rather than fessing up and showing us that there's no smooth, conjoined flow (that was present in his epic '1492 : Conquest of Paradise' for instance),  throws it all up on the screen, hoping that he can buy our love with the last scene. Like James Cameron's 'Titanic', he doesn't buy our love or our admiration - but he buys our desire, which is probably even more expensive than the first two mentioned. He makes us want to see this damn film again and again and again - until we are ready to allow its mark to fall on our subjective little minds, culling a good movie from a bad one; defining the spectrum our own way - instead of his way. He's less a director than a spirit guide to the movie. Watching the deleted scenes, which are all great in and of themselves, but, like the rest of the movie don't really connect to anything transcendent, I was given a higher appreciation of this kind of filmmaking.)

the original review of 'Gladiator'

So nice to see a film the second time and have no trouble brandishing the same exact opinion I copped when I viewed it on the big screen. A trend breaker for last week's triptych of films I screened for the second time and saw in a vastly different light (see above, 11/14, 11/15, 11/18).
Some highlights from the original review : "...though guilty of nearly every cinematic cliché in the book, ['The Patriot'] is still an entertaining and rousing picture full of big, bold characters we long to see, but have all but died out...keeps us on the edge of our seats with good old-fashioned bloodshed, romance and string music...there's a billion things that could've been done to make it a quality film - one that's fit for packaging in the fall and divvying Oscars to - but why bother?...This , even more than 'ID4'  methinks, is the summer movie for the ages: An epic with no brain, all the right visual cues and gumption to spare.

(International Cinema Limited : Hindi Cinema, Part 1)