richard linklater's A SCANNER DARKLY (2006)

i've always had a strange fondness for Richard Linklater as a filmmaker, despite the fact that, until A Scanner Darkly, he'd never made a film i particularly liked. here he follows through on the promise hinted at elsewhere, delivering a bold, confident experiment in the translation of Philip Dick's imaginative paranoiac noir to the screen. the rotoscopic animation Linklater used so cloyingly in the pretentious Waking Life works well with the material, evoking not only the druggie state of mind so central to its characters' actions but also the deeper themes of intrapersonal alienation, and the weight that takes off of the story allows for a breezily high-stakes hyperrealism. the film takes full advantage of the narrative's constant gear-shifting between idle hophead chatter and existentially troublesome setpieces, but never loses its spirit or focus; it's confusing, yes, but that's the point - who are we to determine from which details our fate dangles? if we're left at all cold by the film and its inhabitants, we're taxed by the notion that our alienation is symptomatic of the deepest empathy.

Linklater deepens the paranoia in marvelously realized style. not unlike the more austere proceedings in Michael Haneke's Caché, our trust as a viewer is repeatedly challenged; intimate scenes suddenly pull back to surveillance screens, whose attendants have ten separate angles to choose from. (the frame settles on a random sampling as the scene continues to play out in motionless virtual montage.) the psychological element plays out similarly: are we sure we've seen what we think we've seen?

the cast puts on a good show, from the usually dreadful Keanu (here a believable schlub) to the formidable pair of Woody Harrelson and Robert Downey, Jr., underrated comedic actors both. the paranoia runs deep, but there's an air of observational wit that laces the piece with levity and downright silliness, as when the comrades work to a deranged froth over the apparently fraudulent number of speeds on a third-hand bicycle. towards the end of the film the meta-sci-fi noir elements accelerate at a steadier clip, edging out the humor in favor of a strangely lopsided momentum that nonetheless closes the film with a unique bleak hopefulness. it's good to see that Linklater is finally at a stage in his game where he can pull off the kind of storytelling feats, linked only by their seeming disparity, he's been aspiring to for so long.

just to have it somewhere

ten from 2006, that i loved, because i keep track of such things:

1. paul greengrass' United 93
Paul Greengrass did us the inestimable favor of looking objectively at the root of our sorrow and the public at large thanked him by cynically dismissing it as Hollywood crassness. (Paging Mr. Stone.) Those who did see it, though, not only walked out with a healthier perspective on that moment in our history but also having seen a peerless, visceral thriller intensified by, but not manipulative of, the deep emotions we've all had kicking around our heads and hearts for the past five years. I wouldn't press it on anyone who genuinely feels it's too soon for them to experience it, but otherwise it's essential viewing, and I'm confident that over time it will be recognized as such.

2. michel gondry's Dave Chappelle's Block Party
There was a whole lot of unpleasantness in all of its forms onscreen in 2006, so it didn't surprise me when I sat down at the end of the year and found that I favored Block Party above pretty much everything else, due almost entirely to its overwhelming pleasantness. On one hand it's a light-on-its-feet star-studded concert doc, and on the other it's a reminder of the ingratiating zest with which Dave Chappelle lives his life and does his best to let others share in his successes.

3. james gunn's Slither
4. alfonso cuaron's Children Of Men
5. spike lee's When The Levees Broke
6. guillermo del toro's Pan's Labyrinth
7. martin scorcese's The Departed
8. larry charles' Borat
9. neil marshall's The Descent
10. darren aronofsky's The Fountain

with an honorable mention going to the Shakespearean third season of HBO's Deadwood

past that:
 
REALLY LIKED
Volver, Duck Season, Talladega Nights: The Ballad Of Ricky Bobby, A Scanner Darkly, Happy Feet, Dreamgirls, The Prestige, Marie Antoinette, A Prairie Home Companion, Casino Royale, The Science Of Sleep, Idiocracy, An Inconvenient Truth, Brick, Hostel, The Devil And Daniel Johnston, Stranger Than Fiction, Nacho Libre, District B13, Flushed Away, V For Vendetta, Inside Man, Cars, The Lives Of Others Pirates Of The Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest, Tristram Shandy: A Cock And Bull Story, 13 Tzameti, The Proposition, Monster House, The Queen, Mission Impossible III, Apocalypto, Wordplay, Strangers With Candy
 
LIKED
Night Watch, X-Men: The Last Stand, Superman Returns, The Illusionist, Scoop, Little Miss Sunshine, Last Holiday, Snakes On A Plane, The Hills Have Eyes
 
DIDN'T SO MUCH LIKE
Thank You For Smoking, Lady In The Water, Art School Confidential
 
HATED
Silent Hill

i've yet to see Babel, Letters From Iwo Jima, Army Of Shadows, The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, Miami Vice, Little Children, or Tideland, among others which have a chance of cracking/expanding the ten. here's hoping.

john lasseter's CARS (2006)

my initial reaction to Cars when i saw it this past summer was disappointment. the lackluster trailers had muted my enthusiasm somewhat, but it was hard to shake impossibly high expectations set by Pixar over the course of their then-flawless run of films. and, sure enough, when i left the theater it was no longer a struggle to name my least favorite Pixar film. watching it again, i'd be lying if i said i misjudged it on those terms, but i was very pleasantly surprised to find that the Pixar magic is a little more evident on a return viewing. sure, the comedy is a bit broader here than elsewhere in their filmography, and for the first time certain tropes of contemporary animated film (particularly pop music montages) are relied upon enough to distract from the story. but it's nonetheless extremely well-executed, from the low-key populism of its story (perhaps a telling insight into the comedic broadness) and its voice acting (including a show-stealing turn by, of all people, Larry The Cable Guy) to the visual splendor we've come to expect.

indeed, possibly the most important purpose Cars serves cinematically is downplaying Pixar's trademark emotional intelligence and family-film virtuosity in favor of the other, less evident factor that puts them so laughably far ahead of everyone else in the animation game: their careful marriage of design and technique. while other CG animation houses seem to finally be approaching Pixar in terms of sheer technology, they're lucky if three or four elements over the course of their films belie anything resembling the attention with which Pixar approaches every single one of the millions of details that go into creating a world onscreen. the world of these anthromorphized cars is realized with staggering clarity, from their basic design (showing artistic insight into the facial characteristics of all sorts of different cars, punctuated by cartoony but no less expressive eyes) to the textures of the cars and the world surrounding them, which run the gamut from cold photorealism to warm, cartoony expressionism without a single pothole in visual continuity. most importantly, Pixar's animators infuse a distinct visual wit into every element, most particularly the "acting" that sells the characters so completely. (i should also note the stellar sound design, so perfectly detailing the theoretical sounds of cars moving of their own organic accord.) Cars is an imperfect film, less universally entertaining and satisfying than the name Pixar has come to promise. but it's not a failure by any means, and i look forward to coming back to it again.

guillermo del toro's PAN'S LABYRINTH (2006)

that Pan's Labyrinth was not everything i thought it would be is not a criticism, but a pleasant surprise. Del Toro's film is full of grotesque, fantastic elements conceived and executed with the flair i've come to expect from him, and draws on magical realism regardless of how you end up choosing to interpret Ofelia's fantasy world, but it's rooted solidly in a very real, very cruel corner of human history that serves as much more than simply a departure point. the spanish civil war is, of course, a backdrop pregnant with historical lessons about the evil that men do (evidenced by Del Toro's previous visit to these surroundings in The Devil's Backbone, which Pan improves upon but still echoes) and the majority of the film takes place within the ugly confines of a real world as horrific as anything in the the fantasy sequences that pepper, rather than dominate, the story. this stunningly mature emphasis on the fantasy as a means instead of an end is enhanced by the way Del Toro works with his themes, which are clearly everpresent yet subtle and occasionally ambiguous; they poke at your heart rather than your head, and as such never overpower the narrative. (i anticipate at least another viewing or two before i get a real handle on many of them.) this is indicative of the film's primary strength: there's a coherence and unity of vision in the storytelling that's sorely lacking in immediate contemporaries. (Darren Aaronofsky's wonderful but frustratingly oblique The Fountain springs to mind.) it's a rich, textured, beautiful film that has a lot on its mind, but it trusts the audience, never forcing its ideas, never wavering as art or entertainment.

robert altman's BREWSTER MCCLOUD (1970)

what a wonderful little movie, unfathomably as yet unavailable on dvd. brewster mccloud (Bud Cort) is a boy who lives in the fallout shelter of the astrodome, stealing to live and spending his spare time building mechanical wings, egged on into the world of flight by his sweetly homicidal guardian angel. the movie would be nearly formless (not to mention themeless...it's almost wholly an exercise in wit and style) were it not for a frame story involing san francisco supercop frank shaft, called in to help the houston police investigate a string of stranglings. added to the mix is the narration of (and occasional cuts to) a scholarly bird expert, who slowly transforms into a bird while providing relevant yet unrelated voiceover. overall the film seems like Altman getting his post-M*A*S*H rocks off on his own variation of a zany comedy (the murder mystery angle also provides ample goofs on cop thriller conventions, including an extended car chase) before he got down to the more serious work of the following years. still, it's exemplary of Altman's emerging style and abiding smartassery. hopefully in the wake of his passing we'll see this one on dvd.

carl reiner's THE JERK (1979)

what happened to Steve Martin? i realize the IRS comes a-knockin' and all, but it's getting increasingly harder (with the exception of Shopgirl) to justify my assertions that he's one of the funniest, smartest men in show business. The Jerk doesn't so much highlight the latter of those accolades, but it's the former in spades; Martin works from a script adapted primarily from bits and pieces of his brilliant 70s stand-up work, and it all fits together better than could be imagined, resulting in a pinnacle of the usually-dreadful genre of comedic star vehicles. Martin is charming and goofy, Bernadette Peters is radiant, and i'm tempted to just type out lines from the film, which i've seen far too many times by now, but i don't know how to pick favorites.

alfonso cuaron's CHILDREN OF MEN (2006)

there were lots of movies i enjoyed in 2006, and even a few i loved, but i hadn't seen anything that really energized me from a fimmaking point of view (with the possible exception of United 93) until Children Of Men, a bold, important film that has been, like so many others, summarily doomed by lazy marketing and distribution. Cuaron's past few films have been deservedly high-profile (Y Tu Mama Tambien is as rich a male friendship as the screen has lately seen, and his Prisoner Of Azkaban is easily the best of the Harry Potter films to this point, unfettered by the leaden adaptations of the others) but it's this one that will hopefully cement his prominence among A-list directors. The film is at once breathlessly technical and grittily naturalistic, and moves with the confidence of a story well-told. The real star, of course, is shooter Emmanuel Lubezki, who proves himself once again (and for all) a terrific asset to Cuaron's sensibilities; much has rightly been said of the film's two virtuosic long-take centerpieces, but they shouldn't be allowed to overshadow the across-the-board phenomenal work he does here.

mike judge's IDIOCRACY (2006)

one of the most interesting things about Idiocracy is that at its core it's terrific science fiction, the likes of which we rarely see on film. instead of spacecraft-filled interstellar vistas or alarmist fantasies of totalitarian dystopias, Mike Judge takes an indignantly prescient look at a world where technology's triumphs over natural selection has taken evolution on a path that simply favors those who reproduce the most, thus yielding a population systematically dumbed down over half a millennium. this ingenious, fully realized premise then naturally gives way to the ruthless but good-natured social satire Judge has repeatedly shown his aptitude for, but the game he plays in Idiocracy differs somewhat from the character-driven comedy of Office Space and "King Of The Hill", as much of his wit is redirected into the environment, which overflows with brilliant sight gags. impressively, this detail-oriented approach to creating a believable, hilarious futureworld reveals itself as simply a situational method of achieving Judge's trademark comedic verisimilitude within the constraints of genre, and thus no less essential in his small but astounding body of work as a humorist. of more immediate importance, perhaps, the world he's built and the people who populate it collide in an unyielding synthesis of high and low comedy that, despite its shoddy theatrical treatment, will doubtlessly find a small but fervent cult fanbase in the years to come.

mel gibson's APOCALYPTO (2006)

if a filmmaker's worth is defined by the choices he makes, Mel Gibson isn't a particularly good filmmaker. Apocalypto is a gorgeous, exotic, occasionally thrilling film, but it's also disappointing in nearly every way. Gibson's main transgressions against his thoughtful material seem to be rooted in obvious overshooting; the financial and practical viability of DV (here repeatedly worked against its limitiations, particularly shots of men running, of which there is a wealth) seem to have liberated mel from nuisances like storyboarding and script-tightening, resulting in astonishing laziness under the guise of detached naturalism. most of this, of course, could have (and should have) been fixed in the cutting room, but the editing spitefully highlights these shortcomings, particularly in the film's first third. most interestingly, though the film is indeed gory, many scenes of violence are curiously muted; the marauding of Jaguar Paw's village, for instance, seems to repeatedly pull its punches, and this unsatisfactory intensity of violence castrates what should be a psychologically and emotionally horrifying setpiece.

all that said, there's a lot of good things in the film. the opening scenes do an admirable job of characterizing and contextualizing Jaguar Paw's tribe as exotic everymen, and the acclimation to the film's unabashed (though still beautiful) DV is cushioned by a feeling of ethnographic realism. this attention to characterization continues throughout the film, and is very crucially the one facet of the storytelling in which Gibson never really falters. the design of the production is also nearly flawless; while gibson does resist certain Epic flourishes that could have strengthened the film, the costumes, makeup and art direction (especially in the surprisingly brief visit to the Mayan metropolis) very believablly help depict the folly of empire and a civilization in decline.

in the end, though...frustrating. the errors in judgment, from the haphazard, amateurish stylistic decisions to the inevitable deus ex machina that ends the almost-astounding chase of the film's final third, flaw the movie beyond redemption, turning what could have easily been a triumph into a hubris-laced also-ran B flick.

davis guggenheim's AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH (2006)

it's nice to see an activist doc that's not embarrassing to me as cineaste and/or liberal. Al Gore is a strange fish...between this film and Spike Jonze's short piece on the first issue of WHOLPHIN, i'm entirely convinced that i misjudged the man when i only grudgingly supported his candidacy in 2000. (which is his fault...his dry charisma remained his best-kept-secret for unknown reasons.) Bill Clinton he's not, but he can make a good impression when he lets his guard down, and he does that quite a lot in this movie.

after hearing months of the explanation "it's not ABOUT Al Gore, it's about global warming" to people who didn't care to see "that Al Gore movie", i was surprised to find that the movie really is kind of about Al Gore, but the biographical elements are all tied directly into the bigger issue at hand (and the issue couldn't be much bigger), and it paints a portrait of a man whose concern for our planet's well being has consumed his life in the most productive possible way.

it's the kind of film that makes me guilty that i'm not going to do as much about what i've seen as i know i ought to.

ridley scott's director's cut of LEGEND (1985)

it's kind of disappointing that i have to start off this blog with a movie i really didn't enjoy very much. somehow i managed to go through childhood without seeing this film, and i don't feel like i'm any worse off for it. Scott's made some films i enjoy (most particularly Alien several years previous) and is always very technically competent, so it was the incompetence of the pacing, structure, direction, and editing that really caught me off guard. the makeup is good (especially on Tim Curry, who gloriously chews the scenery, spits it out, and chews it back up again, as he is wont to do) but it's not emotionally engaging, and the awkward blocking and shot choices only compound the problems. there is never a sense of character, and there is never a sense of place.

i have, of course, not seen the theatrical version of the film, but i'm actually a bit curious to, as maybe he had to make a few quality concessions in order to restore his "vision." one thing's for sure, though: Tangerine Dream's original score could not have been worse than Jerry Goldsmith's overactive, directionless bombast.

also, there is one other thing for sure: Tom Cruise used to have one fucked up grill.

friday! friday! friday!

it's my new year's resolution to write a little bit about every movie i watch. to keep me limber and such. i'm unconcerned if you read this. how did you find it anyway?

go to my other blahg @ cityofthousands.blogspot.com