Michael Mann does it Again

Music of the 00s

I've sort of parted ways (as of now) with my film adoration -- it's still "there" but I've sort of reverted back to my original passion for music...as well as had the urge to further educate myself in other various fields: journalism, astronomy, neuroscience, and reading (ethnography and non-fiction). I guess my recent apathy for film continuance is the same logic that many students arrive on in order to fulfill their passion for the medium: film is about experiences, many of which need absorption through hunger for various academia. What advantage does a film-centric individual have over an economically-inclined individual when viewing a film like Thief? Or against a sociology major when talking about Cache? I'm not attempting to suggest any sort of slippery slope warrants notice here, but I feel that my continual education and enthusiasm can only and should only be further groomed with my desire to fulfill (and admit to) other curiosities.

And there's music.

If there is an argument for the "perfectionized medium" -- and film is it -- then where does music rank? Well, firstly, I'm not going to really answer that question (yet) or concede that it is inevitably inferior to film -- or books -- simply because I'm still attempting to rid myself of dogmas that have risen from not keeping up with music for the last 1-2 years. It seems harmless, sure, but I've been sort of conditioned by the recent output to be a cliched naysayer despite the distinct fact that when I was in a "music phase"...I really liked modern music. Part of it was the fact that the intricate syncopations, Neptunesque hyper-production, and synthesized^78 vocals actually are being readily appreciated by the mainstream. There's always a quick write-off about contemporary music by simply saying, "Well, I just miss the great music of the 60s...heck, the 90s" without actually perceiving that a lot of that really great stuff was properly retrospected over time instead of actually being appreciated--for its inherent worth. In other words, the numerous deconstructions of Beatles song structures or Morrison lyrical composites weren't as quickly congested, dialed up, and matter-of-factly recognized by the general public of its time. They understood that something great was going on, but they didn't know what. Flash forward to 2007, and you've got a sense of incapability from scrutiny, an exponentially observed sense of not only "now" but "what's next". Listening to something like "Sexy Back" amidst all the hoopla, you've got to really give it to Timberlake's collaboration team for actually pushing the envelope on how dense everything is -- even if you really hate "Sexy Back" (like me). And its not only the internal properties of music, but how it is externally distributed. Living in a city like Austin has allowed me to observe a few tragic/impressive principles/concepts about the state of modern music:

1. The past is both unfairly worshiped and misguidedly underrepresented.
2. Modern indie rock is not objectively better than popular music. In fact, I bet more individuals can make a case for its inferiority. We're in a state of post-scene, which makes us actually "behind the times" instead of in front of it like we want to be. (Rehashed Gang of Four melodies (see Britian's post-punk scene catching up to the U.S.) and New Wave grooves/ philosophies only prove this)
3. The massive access of music through the internet tragically has led two music scenes (independent/pop) in two directions instead of working as one. But ultimately (and paradoxically) they ultimately will coincide.

These are fairly vague and will be further explored through further posts on this blog as time permits. I'm going to start out my next entry by listing my favorite songs/artists of this decade and all time.

'Play it as it Lays'

"Play It As It Lays ironically supports conservative values by showing their utter absence in the characters' lives. We see a Hollywood society with no sense of history, of the links between then and now, and we watch this world disintegrate into suicide, abortion, sexual promiscuity, divorce, and neurotic lethargy: into nada....Maria and the other characters are cut loose from the bonds and values associated with the family, and by extension, from any sense of continuity with the past." (Brady 53)

8/10 (2nd viewing)

Ben's 20 Favorite Films

I should be posting more stuff in the future. Enjoy!

Shindler’s List (Steven Spielberg)
Time Bandits (Terry Gilliam)
Lost In Translation (Sofia Coppola)
Shichinin no samurai (Akira Kurosawa)
Buono, il brutto, il cattivo (Sergio Leone)
Eternal Sunshinge of the Spotless Mind (Micel Gondry)
Goodfellas (Martin Scorsese)
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (Wes Anderson)
Everything Is Illuminated (Lieve Schreiber)
Russikiy kovcheg (Aleksandr Sokurov)
Sjunde inseglet, Det (Ingmar Bergman)
Y Tu Mama Tambien (Alfonso Cuaron)
Spaceballs (Mel Brooks)
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart (Sam Jones)
Cidade de Deus (Fernando Meirelles and Katia Lund)
Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers (Peter Jackson)
The Truman Show (Peter Weir)
Angels In America (Mike Nichols)
Un long dimanche de fiancailles (Jean-Pierre Jeunet)

Rundown

I suppose some are still chewing away at Damian's faux-apologia (see: Nixon's "Checkers" speech)--how ironic was the timing of my second-to-last post--and rightfully so. My favorite bits would be "I can't do that. It's not that simple" (in reference to denying to the claims of plagiarism) or "It may seem like that should be easy to do, but when you're the one sitting in your chair staring at the blank computer screen, it can be quite a daunting task." I'm not trying to be a churlish ass; I've been guilty of my fair share of plagiarism in my lifetime (in some senses, haven't we all?) but I think I learned in the elementary school that owning up rather obvious mistakes or poor judgment is better than denying it--or worse, skirting around the circumstances and downplaying the actions. Rhetorical analysis might have gone over the American public 50+ years ago, but the film-going community is a bit less saccharine, if you will. I'm still going to keep Windmill's of My Mind's link up on my blog, but it will be more of a reminder of how side-stepping one of basic fundamentals of human nature (apologizing) really beats a horse once presumed dead.

Great article about the debasement/ascension (?) of modern film--> Here
David Bordwell proving once again that he is one of the least pretentious individuals in film criticism--> Here
That guy who has the coolest last name discussing Roger Ebert, monsters with eyes in their hands, and the underrated nature of Ebert's pre-I-own-the-AMPAS film enthusiasm--> Here
Fairly straightforward look at the general theories of Artaud--> Here
Overview of Renoir Boudu and how he really perfectionized the long-take--up to that point. Cool site, too--> Here


I'm sort of at a stalemate with my Inland Empire analysis, but I've got a good one on the way comparing My Neighbor Totoro and Grave of the Fireflies, discussing how each film takes a "quiet" approach to spirituality/wonderment and how tragedy evolves in each.

Just for fun:

Album of the Week: Animal Collective "Sung Tongs"
Movie of the Week: Tokyo Ga
Song of the Week: "Message of Love" - The Pretenders
Book of the Week: Pledged - Alexandra Robbins
Obsessions of the Week - 'The Office', Amy Adams, and college football
Quote of the Week: "A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five." - Groucho Marx

Well, Damn.

Plagiarism in 31 Days of Spielberg

Various updates coming soon.

31 Days of Spielberg.

Firstly, I'd like to reference everybody to my growing list of blogs that I frequently read/comment on not just because I feel like I need to show some sort of inherent gratitude for the individuals that I am essentially networking with, but these are individuals who allow me to get further traffic to my blog and also provide me with some phenomenal reads when it comes to the film medium--and to other things as well. Furthermore, I'm trying to not to compulsively link every blog that relates to film criticism because I think these users should be recognized by readers of my blog not drowned out among the rest like a bad Oscar reception speech. I'm going to try to promote these blogs through means of a post of sorts whenever I feel like he or she has made an outstanding effort in contribution towards my general enthusiasm for the medium; however, I wish not to ignore their almost daily contributions to their own blog and only suggest that my judgment of the merit of individual posts is about as flawed as my own personal taste in films. Lol. But seriously, my emphasis should be duly noted.






Windmills of My Mind (Damian) has featured a 31-day Spielberg drool festival and I've been reading every post since day 1. Aside for the apparent accomplishment and dedication of the project, the most commendable aspect of his celebration is that his takes is both analytical and highly unpretentious. His writing is accessible for anybody with even a slight interest in film to soak up and thoroughly comprehensive for those who wish to be challenged and moved by his thoughts are effectively welcomed. I've always had a particular penchant against various sorts of personal attachments to film criticism, that the nature of the work is difficult to thinly negotiate without a sense of objective or subjective singularity, but "31 Days of Spielberg" manages to be one of those projects that actually tends to not only forgive its personal accompaniment but rather to entice us with said approach. It's truly infectious, to say the least.

I'd really like to shout out to Tram, Ted, and all the contributors on The House Next Door for putting up with my various antics and allowing me to establish somewhat of a residence here. It was just as difficult as I imagined to go from a fairly recognizable IMDB personality to a complete nobody on these boards but these people have made it possible--along with the IMDB users that continue to frequent my blog: Movie Freak, Emma, Chris, and many others. As I suggested earlier, I'm not trying to segregate anything of any sort here but simply promote an environment of cinematic enthusiasts and individuals who want anything of perceived importance to be heard.


Thanks,

Jeremy.

Initial Glances at Inland Empire.

Essentially, I could sit here and vent my frustration on attaining a David Lynch film from a multi-billion dollar give-a-damn corporation (Walmart, who else?). The problem doesn't just exist with the employee's apathy for actually, you know, providing customer service or like, knowing how to run a computer system or at least attempting to have some faith in an individual saying, "Yes, I know you received shipments for the DVD--will you just check for me?". Hell, it extends all the way up the corporate ladder where board rooms are assembled for increasing customer overload as opposed to amiability, customer connections, etc; Mom-and-Pop stores bear most of the weight, but we're next in line. Anyway, it's all rather moot considering that I eventually put up with all of the faux-red tape and grabbed my copy of Inland Empire and started heading home--to sleep. In fact, as I type this at 4:00 in the afternoon I have yet to watch my DVD copy. Part of it was because I've already seen the film and wanted to wait 'til I was fully awake for my next viewing, but mostly it was the unavoidable knowledge that I was going to have to prepare myself again to watch this film. Oh, rest assured I'll be spending my night funneling my ways through the various functions of Lynch's latest cinematic vehicle; I'll be frightened at every turn. Preparation means absolutely nothing. I thought of something fantastic on the drive home: Lynch's films don't breathe, they function. They are defined by a cerebral process and their extincts are not compressed by a fleeting romanticism. Because nothing about Inland Empire is fleeting.

This is going to be an exciting month for film fans because no matter what your stance is on David Lynch, you have to admit that the man does inspire some absolutely breath-taking metaphors, encirclements, tangents,..you name it. In the 6+ years since Mulholland Drive (which, btw, I'm not a gigantic fan of. But more on that later or by request) we are still getting some insanely detailed critical analyses; few film-makers, if any, tend to polarize its critics and viewers quite like him. I remember having a discussion with another user on the ability of his films to be "cracked", which more or less says something about the viewer than the actual system which his most quintessential films are governed by: they can't really be cracked. But alas, I'm sort of skirting amongst several of the things that the film will better answer or confound (I'm not entirely sold on which one is more beneficial) and the real point of this particular post is just to explain some of the initial vibes I got from the DVD box, the title menus, and also, how much 2-Disc Special Edition really does pack.
[Note: Initial responses from DVD reviewers and fellows users is that the UK DVD release has a significantly less number of features. However, I've been pointed by an IMDB user that DVD Beaver claims the image quality is severely lacking on the American release in comparison to the European version. Europe, especially France, are more appreciative towards Lynch, nonetheless.]




First Reactions:




The front of the DVD box is pretty much the same as the above poster without the credentials, Los Angeles distanced behind Laura Dern, and with the addition of the wonderfully-phrased "A Woman in Trouble" right below the words INLAND EMPIRE. It's still a fantastic poster and the back side is fillwed with all sorts of wonderfully screencaptures--a red/orange lamp, an incandescent light bulb, and ominously lighted silhouette, Axxon-N, and quite perfectly, the frightening shadow of a rabbit against a door. The back cites that DISK ONE contains the film and DISK TWO contains 211 minutes (!!!) of special features: "More things the happened", "Ballerina", "Lynch 2", "Quinoa", "Stories", "Trailers", and "Stills". I'm not going to go through these right now simply because of my schedule and because I think these most likely warrant a separate blog entry but the initial thought of 211 minutes of bonus material is pretty fantastic.




The covering of DISK ONE is the infamous red lamp and DISK TWO is decorated with rabbit family situated in their apartment just like the sitcom within the film (We've all seen that clip, so I really don't think I'm spoiling anything. )

Upon starting DISK ONE you get the promotional image of Absurda ("A David Lynch Company) over some expected ambient/creepy music. Next we are led to a main menu highlighted by even more experimental audio and a POS record player--awesome. [see above]

DISK TWO starts out the same way as the first disk with the promotional image of Lynch's production company. The main menu is the same imposed image of an emotionally distraught Laura Dern in a blue tint--in other words, the same image on the poster. [see below]


Special Features -

Stills - Pretty much self-explanatory: A very pretty montage of the film's various images and production shots.
Quinoa - David Lynch teaching cooking lessons. Pretty much expect every 19 year-old student filmmaker to be eating "quinoa" for dinner.
More things that Happened - A disturbingly empty red-shaded room. I'll have to check this one out later.
Ballerina - An attractive red-dressed girl dancing on ice to some wonderfully inspirational music. Note: one of these observations is false.
Trailers - Don't get your hopes up. Then again, don't get them down they still are quite impressive.
Lynch 2 - David Lynch being a churlish, condescending OCD control freak. Laugh out loud.
Stories - Lynch talking straight to the microphone. I haven't given it a listen yet but I'm sure there's at least a few good things to be extracted from this, expectedly.

In the spirit of brevity/I've actually come under the impression that my desire for brevity sort of disregards my status as a "serious blogger"...but in this instance, can you expect an individual to write tirelessly about something he hasn't been able to soak up yet?/I'm going to just end it hear and await your thoughts and pray for slight anticipation for what is to come of this film and its features. As I promised earlier, I'll be working--along with half of the film-obsessed web--on my reactions to the film and hopefully trying to penetrate the thickly-coated layers of what is Inland Empire. There's no harm in trying.

Update

Alright, the summer semester is over tomorrow, so I'll be finally able to finish some of those things I promised earlier like the "Assimilation and Gender" essays and the Jeanne Dielman review. Ben, one of my contributors, is also looking to post a few things, but we'll see how much of an actuality that really is. ;) Anyway, keep the comments rolling and don't forget to suggest polling questions, films to watch, or anything else you think would be helpful. Thanks.

“We can do nothing against gravity.”

Lost in Translation Rebuttal

I realize I'm behind on a few things: 1. Jeanne Dielman review. 2. "Assimilation and Gender"
Firstly, summer school, while rather uneventful, still is occupying my time from 8-12:30 every Monday-Thursday and so has recreational soccer (and I still post regularly on IMDB, sort of). I'll get to those -- hey, I'm being pretty fucking productive -- but first I want to address something that I suggested earlier: common Lost in Translation criticisms. In the spirit of brevity and righteousness let's begin:

Film Quarterly - "Lost in Translation"


OK, so this is probably going to work with myself just reading the article (1st read) and just picking out things that I think serve as criticisms towards the film. I'll copy text and respond to it when I come to those "points of emphasis" and I encourage anybody else to refute or applaud any of my reactions to the film and its criticisms.

Page one sort of allows itself to not really attach to any sort of side. King pretty much sets what looks like an attack on the film's racial content -- God, I hope she doesn't ignore that 90% of the film was about the characters -- and then quickly sets up a reaction to such a complain. Is this really going to be an appraisal?

But nor does the
film sufficiently clarify that its real subject is not Tokyo
itself, but Western perceptions of Tokyo—in particular,
the fantasies that two lonely Americans project onto the
city and its residents. When Japan appears superficial,
inappropriately erotic, or unintelligible, we are never
completely sure whether this vision belongs to Coppola,
to her characters, or simply to a Hollywood cinematic
imaginary that has been offering up such images
of the East at least since Cecil B. DeMille’s 1915 The
Cheat, as described by scholar Gina Marchetti.2

Well, fuck. Isn't this the reason Lynch gets off the hook? I mean, it's not like people run around with axes claiming that David butchered the realities of Tinseltown of Prarieview, Oklahoma, right? Let's hope she drops the bomb on the next page->

Coppola’s camera adopts an ambiguous attitude, combining dazzled
humility with bemused condescension.At no point, it is
true, do we securely occupy the confident position of
the superior Western gaze upon the non-Western.

Ah...ooh, self-retorting! But the review/reaction still remains tame. But here comes the asininity:

But
the film ends up containing the Orient and “speaking
on its behalf ” in another way: by representing it as a
space where an American may get lost, but without
being significantly changed or unmoored by the experience.
As Scarlett Johansson’s character puts it, she
“doesn’t feel anything” when she encounters her cultural
others.

Firstly, Scarlett's inability to feel anything is not a revelation of the culture's lack but rather her lack. She, a philosophy major, complains on the phone to her "friend" because she feels an emptiness due to her inability to connect with anything at the moment. Damn, I bet the KKK is all over Sofia for suggesting Scarlett's alienation with her husband and for the patronization of dumb Hollywood starlets. Why is it understandable to predict that Charlotte's "emptiness" is reminiscent of a skewed approach to the culture by Sofia as opposed to Charlotte's own existentialism revealing her disconnection? And even so, Charlotte, indeed, shows admiration and respect for Japan; she has reasonable acquaintances in Tokyo and her "disconnect" is perhaps more of a spiritual lacking of herself...yes?

The scene is acted and shot for humor at the
expense of the Japanese perception of what a desirable
American male looks like: how he sits and gestures,
what kind of suit he wears, what kind of whiskey he
drinks. The more Bob gives the photographer what he
wants, the more he is emasculated, both because he is
following the orders of a man who cannot correctly
pronounce “Rat Pack,” and because the images he recreates
seem antiquated and fey by contemporary American
standards. But this emasculation does not stick to
Bob. It is returned to sender: attributed to Japanese
naïveté rather than to its American source.

The last sentence is what gets me, not so much that I disagree but that I think it yields an attack that really is sort of self-defeating. Firstly, the scene portrays a rather accurate display of the lingual differences of the two cluture; I'm not entirely against the thought that Coppola overdoes these "r/l" thing but I am against those who seek to overextend it to detract from the entire experience. Secondly, I think this quote misses what Sofia is partially trying to say: that there is a distinct appreciation or admiration by the Japanese when it comes to American stardom. When Bob is distilled by the skyscraper bearing a large advertisement of his face, it is implied that the greatest irony is just how humble the Japanese culture really is. In other words, the film progressively shows the tourists endorsement of Japan as if Sofia seeks to tell her viewers that the initial detachment from the austere environment, while natural, will eventually form into embracement, authorization, and above all, self-discovery.

But because point of view is limited
to Bob and Charlotte, we see more of their incomprehension
than that of their hosts. The camera emphasizes
Bob’s bewildered reaction to the bowing greeters
at the hotel, his face an amalgam of jet lag and sarcasm.

Disorientation in a foreign environment, the distinct rhythmic differences of social interactions...? Give him a break, buddy.

as well as his quick exit from an after-hours strip club, as a comment
on Japanese sexuality and gender roles rather than on
American prudishness.The film focalizes these images
through Bob: it is the greeter, not he, who looks ridiculous;
it is the dancer who is overly salacious, not he who
projects this image onto her. Other scenes in the film—
Bob’s appearance on a Japanese television show, for
instance—share in this attitude.

Absurd. And yes, I'm sure that a rather blatant feminist like Sofia Coppola is attempting to comment on the disparaged gender roles in Japanese culture. I'm not disagreeing that Bob's character is flawed in a few of these regards, he's quintessentially Bill Murray in the sense that he's always on the verge of elevating his social abasement into full-blown humor but never quite there. But to suggest that the film takes a moral stance on these situations, is rather absurd given the characters arcs and the film's final distributive fondness towards the revelations discovered in the stay. In "focaliz[ing] these images through Bob" it's as if Sofia is saying, "OK, make your own remarks about his character and his sophisitication".

There are a few scenes where we get an inkling that
the incomprehension is mutual, a flicker of understanding
that the West might also be an exotic enigma
for the East. In a scene at a hospital waiting room, for
instance, a stranger asks Bob in Japanese how many
years he has been in Japan. Failing to understand, Bob
can only mimic a few syllables; his interlocutor bursts
into laughter. The tables are turned:West now imitates
East.

Well, I'll be damned.

How, then, does one make a film about one people’s
projections onto another, one culture’s fantasies
about another, without reproducing those very projections?
How does one represent what is lost in translation
from both sides?

I'll answer: by changing the fucking film. Why would a filmmaker intent on portraying two individuals channeling the same existential crises -- Bob's mid-life, Charlotte's post-college -- seek to confound the entire point by extending its arc to the other side? In fact, the film suggests that the characters dislocation is not by means of the foreign environment but more of their own. It's like saying that Casablanca should restructure its perceptions of a Nazi-controlled city as a source of purgatorial romance in order to give Africa its dues. By consistently projecting the "side's" viewpoint (not that this film doesn't do it at times) we delineate the plot to an unnecessary emotional attachment, especially one that is already overwhelming the narrative in the first place.

Lost in Translation, on the other hand, emphasizes
what is mimicked without understanding,what escapes
translation. Sensations of incomprehension, of loss of
control, of forgetting even the time of day, tend to dominate.
These sensations, the film makes clear, can be
highly pleasurable, and even transformative when one
is open to them

This is half of the point. The biggest problem with this review is that its preoccupation with environments non-communicative efforts with the characters ignores that the majority of the film was about the characters projecting upon one another. I'm not to deny that the film sensationalizes certain aspects; however, I tend to embrace those sensations because Coppola shows it on behalf of the character's own personal disconnection. The film that I think this reviewer is attempting to ostracize isn't there because the flaws of the characters inevitably embrace the environment. In neglecting the Gothic qualities of the romance and making a personal attack for what the film wasn't instead of trying to seek out what it really was trying to do this review sort of makes me wonder how many films, classic or not, can we destroy because there sociological tangents don't correctly comply with that of actuality, or what we perceive as actuality. It's a bit hard for me to get behind a well-written and fair-pointed (at times) review of Lost in Translation when the individual doesn't once mention the kiss or the disoriented barrier of Bob and Charlotte's relationship. Not all of us were overextending incongruities with the Tokyo lights as Bob departed for the airport in the final shot. Some of couldn't even see them.

The Online Film Community’s Top 100 Movies

Draw your own opinions.

My thoughts? Well, it's certainly better than the AFI 100 and the IMDB 250...but not that much better. Firstly, It's way too top-heavy with American films -- Seven Samurai at #20 is the first foreign film on the list -- and it's way too male-oriented. Secondly, it's not even really distinguishable compared to every other list out there but such is the nature of most list compilations. However, there are some rather inspired choices (6. Blade Runner, 25. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) that are just quintessentially "internet", and quite a number of my favorites (predictably) made it. It's a bit egregious to complain, I suppose, so I guess...well done? Yup, yup.

Oh, come on, Death. Are we really that bad?

Somebody set up a barricade around Jean-Luc Godard's residence.

Assimilation and gender.

I was on another user's blog last night and the discussion was brought up on female representation within film. I'm all for feminism and am well aware that to a large number of males, and females, that the term paints an overly incisive form of dogmatism -- which is not to imply the term is always applied favorably; it's problematic when it becomes a form of recompensation and starts echoing the same fundamental disputes as nationalism (placing ideals of one's culture/self over another's, etc). Anyway, so within the discussion comes up the question of "why are so many female characters just there to subvert the centralized male characters rather than actually drive the narrative on their own terms"? It's a multi-faceted question (duh!) and the tangents just waiting to erupt from it really make me want to soar around naked in Paris, fingers grasping -- but never letting up -- on Shaw's "Sain Joan." OK, not really, but you get the point.


So essentially this next segment(s) will attempt to justify a few things:

a. Which directors are "getting it right" and why.
b. Which directors aren't and why.
c. An idea of what needs to be done in order to promote female-centric narratives as well as suggest how to avoid the stereotyping of supporting/limited role female characters.
d. How homosexuality and race have something to say about this.
e. TBA

[will be updated later]

Analytical Vacancy.

Apparently, the banal depths of the IMDB forums can prove to be more intelligible than individual's passing themselves off as "film critics". OK, certainly that's a bit hyperbolic but there's few things that prove to be more annoying (see: disenchanting) than people just assuming that we're already saddled up for the joke. Pandering or clubbing around your own self-entitlement doesn't mean we're on board already. Hey, there's nothing wrong with pedantry but at least understand that assuming critical supervision means you actually worked on something; boldly attributing innate observation pretension can backfire, you know? Listen, I'm not saying I've never treaded the water on didacticism or that I've ever wrote page after page of expository circumvention, but I sure as hell have never sought to submit something to any sort of a film journal--no matter how informal--that just emphasizes my deficiencies.

Lost in Translation

Lost in Translation finds Bill Murray and Scarlet Johansson playing a man and a woman, respectively, both of whom wander around an expensive Tokyo high-rise hotel with nothing to do. They have nothing to do, the film insists, because they are too smart for it all. Anyone not Japanese in the film is depicted as terribly superficial; Johansson's husband is a fashion photographer, Murray's spouse sends him carpet samples. The Japanese, for their part, are hardly depicted at all, except to underscore the protagonists' alienation.

What they are smart about is the mystery. Too bored with their hotel rooms but too smart for all the suffocating superficiality, Murray and Johansson run around a neonlit, arcade-laden Tokyo still doing next to nothing. Maybe they're smart for each other? They kiss at the end, though that doesn't seem to change much of anything.

The problem is, Lost in Translation isn't all that smart. It seeks to capture the alienation of the upper classes, insisting that the air way up there is terribly thin in terms of meaning. Unfortunately, the film is just as thin, about as meaningful as your average episode of Laguna Beach, an MTV reality television with cinema-like production values that documented the love lives of immensely well-to-do teenagers in California. I struggle to see what difference it makes that the vacuity of Lost in Translation is intentional; the result is just about the same.

Maybe the film's problem was that it's director, Sofia Coppola, is the well-to-do daughter of Francis Ford Coppola (known for such films as the Godfather triology, Apocalypse Now and Jack). She's probably had access to cinematic tropes all her life (I hear she name-dropped Antonioni in her Best Screenplay Oscar speech), but Lost in Translation makes me think she's lost as to how to tie all these tropes together into something meaningful.

The internet has been a savior for a lot of things but also has shallowly verified cheap amounts of self-importance. It's recognized that certain informalities are going to be there, but it doesn't mean it's actually just a selling point. Since when has reviewing been more about chauvinism than about perceptiveness? Calling Lost in Translation "vacuous" (irony, I know) or implying fault with it's attempt at "captur[ing] the alienation of the upper classes, insisting that the air way up there is terribly thin in terms of meaning" is much too contrived for any level of reviewing, especially when neither of those jabs are actually defined; after all, the latter denunciation pretty much nullifies Fellini's, Antonioni's, and half of Resnais' catalog. Although, I never knew that alienation, detachment, culture shock, existentialism, etc. were purely high-browed ideals. Does Satantango fail because desolation only holds bearing with those who truly know deprivation and poverty? And above all, are we still at the point where gender and (implied) nepotism are actually being sold as authentic criticism?

I've sort of been on a Lost in Translation/ Sofia Coppola streak as of late, so I'll try to post some responses to common criticism within the next day or two.

Prospero's Speech

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,

And what strength I have's mine own,

Which is most faint. Now 'tis true

I must be here confined by you

Or sent to Naples. Let me not,

Since I have my dukedom got,

And pardoned the deceiver, dwell

In this bare island by your spell;

But release me from my bands

With the help of your good hands.

Gentle breath of yours my sails

Must fill, or else my project fails,

Which was to please. Now I want

Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;

And my ending is despair

Unless I be relieved by prayer,

Which pierces so, that it assaults

Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardoned be,

Let your indulgence set me free'

Prospero's Speech from "The Tempest"


I can't say I'm overwhelmed with any sort of intense sadness for the death of Ingmar Bergman - 89 years is quite a run. Nonetheless, the man's dedication to the medium and his largely unparalleled affinity with artistic and spiritual (Dreyer is only human) validation are more of something that is long to be admired, if not deemed impossible in this day and age. Joe DiMaggio's 56 ain't got nothing on it. And while his films will be endlessly scrutinized, analyzed, and even patronized to mere rhetorics in the decades later none of it will hold any greater thought than those who upon viewing are galvanized by them. It's quite polarizing to note that Death and what we make of such a finality was perhaps his grandest of themes, that all other motifs that incandescently streamed throughout his works complied obediently with that invariable fate. I don't love Ingmar Bergman. I don't really share a lot of what he says; it's not really the point of an artist to make us comply if we sufficiently concern ourself with be experienced. And I don't think his death will make any profound impact on my life, not that he would care or had cared. However, I'll always admire that he was able to do so much and I'm sort of envious in the regard that in subsequent years he could put out legitimate masterpieces when in this day in age we can't even spot consistency in terms of decades from our greatest of directors. And above all, I'll rejoice that he left us so many features that depict the vast parameters and tangents of the human soul, a oeuvre filled with quiet romanticism and underrated humor that only registers once we accept "flaw".

"I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void. The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror. My indifference to men has shut me out. I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams. "

Antonius Block in The Seventh Seal

Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles

Well, I just watched it and after I get done with some homework I'll work on a review/analysis.

Matt Schaub sure picked a bad time to get traded, huh?

That is if Vick is [rightfully] convicted of the charges. Don't you think Virginia Tech has had enough this year?

2007: Can I take my hand off the snooze button?

"It's a cyclical thing. When they make one, everyone loves them. Different genres come around in succession. People always welcome the western. It's America's genre."

-Robert Duvall

Admittingly, I haven't done my part this year. I haven't seen Rescue Dawn, Ratatouille, Rescue Dawn, Paprika...you get the point. However, my apathy is much attributed much more to the anticipation of fall releases than assumed disappointment from the available features. Before I go off and ostracize myself I'm also content with playing the "catch-up" card with 2006 -- it turned out to be the best year of the new millennium. (It's humorous to note that two of the most widely-acclaimed films of the year, The Departed and A Prarie Home Companion, happen to be two of the worst films in the respective directors' oeuvre.) Fortunately, I think I've finally embarked upon the shores of 2007; my enthusiasm seems effectively honed after reading a few early reviews for No Country for Old Men and Paranoid Park -- it's all frightfully romantic! I've got a point here, although it's rather self-referential: "Happiness comes when your work and words are of benefit to yourself and others." No? OK, well I haven't really an agenda here other than to supply slight validity for my giddiness, and there's nothing more noble that the truth, right?



1. Se Jie, Ang Lee






Spies? WWII? A universally lauded film visionary returning back to his roots? Tony Leung? It's like Hitchcock without the vehicular tendencies. In subsequent years we get two of the most expansive, humanistic directors--Ang Lee and Alfonso Cuaron--working in their home language, in environments that seem akin to that of which manifested both of their recognized masterpieces. In the wake of the same year Kar Wai Wong is putting out the "cross-over film", I'm inclined to think Lee's is going to be the better film for the reasoning not that I'm famously anti-Wong, but that Lee's film doesn't appear to be as observably self-parodied. Also, Joan Chen has more shows more naturalism in Zi yu feng bao than Natalie Portman has shown her entire career. Ah, so much for cheekiness.


2. Paranoid Park, Gus Van Sant







Kracaeur will continue to blush. And as if you're one of those that thinks realist cinema needs yet another reawakening then you have Paranoid Park, which looks like an apt return to the social environment/structures of Van Sant's zenith, Elepant. Long takes, austere artificiality, and questionable authorities it all looks to be rather intact with every glimpse of Paranoid Park. Conspicuously, Van Sant appears to be content with encroachment of auteur-ism. Fair enough, he deserves such a vicinity.


3. No Country for Old Men, The Coen Brothers






It's a complete shame that they didn't go for Blood Meridian, as well. Yes, I'm rather optimistic that Ridley Scott will return to form--whatever that means-- but the buzz around No Country for Old Men is just irrational. It all is rather fitting for those who've actually read the novel, it's drenched in a sporadically combustible post-modern tone that's got Coen written all over it, the whole thing is just so...cinematic. It's also an insanely expeditious: characters represent anachronistic archetypes, landscapes that drip with biblical embodiments. It's probably the most relevant film the Cohen brothers could ever make because few people can actually negotiate the conflicting realms of social observation and bellicose absurdity. I'll leave your opinions of the fervency of the cast up to common sense.


4. There Will Be Blood, Paul Thomas Anderson







The trailer is simply fantastic sans the reminder that Paul Dano is actually a human being. If anybody commands the screen in a more theatric, gravitational fasion than Daniel Day-Lewis than please tell me. It also appears that Mr. Anderson has found himself away from the Scorsese backrent that he once was obliged to liquidate, and Robert Elswitt seeks to increasingly distinguish himself as one of the premiere cinematographers of our generation--which says a lot. Thing is, I'm not really expecting much out of this film except a really great time...and confirmation that the politics of the old West still demand significant pertinence. Texas government is a fascinating thing in that it still transcribes just how much traditional Republicanism governs society. There's much to be said about the proprietorship of the "cowboy mentality" and how the increased minority establishment has actually increasingly promoted such a mentality.



5. Le Voyage du ballon rouge, Hsiao-hsien Hou





It's been pretty hush-hush about this one. The original 1956 film is one of the most lauded examples of the properties of montage and austerity. You've got an international leading lady (Binoche) and a seemingly inspired deviation from the simplicity of the Le Balloon Rouge. So it's not really a remake but a previsioning? Or is it more of a celebration of the '56 Cannes winner? Either or it's Hou, and you know that means quality; the man is a genius when it comes to "pure cinema": parametric narration, lighting, long-takes, reflexive POV... He's capable of pretension when he's at his worst and capable of adamant devotion when at his most creatively self-secured. So far the basic plot is that Binoche, a puppeteer, teacher, and mother of two allows a Taiwanese baby sitter in to her home who ends up changing Binoche's close-minded perceptions of life by means of imagination (the balloon) and cultural intergration. A recipe for heavy-handedness or for poetry? We'll see.

Japanese Sentimentalism

[The following essay was written about a year and a half ago--I was 18--and sheds light on cultural affinity of Japan's culture and cinematic scene. I recognize that the essay appears a bit intrinsic in its observation of these relationships, yet I've attempted to let the essay to remain rather intact because it does at the very lest provide a substantial overview. Within the next week or so I'm seeking to append additional references and evidence towards the observations.]

There is a scene midway into Yasujiro Ozu’s Tokyo Story where the elderly couple, who have been recently visiting their children for the weekend in Tokyo, spend the day at a coastal spa. It is conveyed throughout the film that the children’s parents signify a great burden for them, and the particular spa visit, arranged by the preoccupied offspring, allows for couple to be looked after without interrupting the daily routine of the children’s “big city life”. The scene, like many others in the film, emphasize a culture whose classical approach to cinema -- and all art forms – emphasizes an emotional and thematic texture that is both distinct and effective.

Late film director Yasuzo Masumura explains, “Sentiment in Japanese films means restraint, harmony, resignation, sorrow, defeat, and escape," not "dynamic vitality, conflicts, struggle, pleasure, victory, and pursuit.” Ultimately, this serves as a contrast to the typicality of Hollywood’s penchant for excessiveness, gratification, and fully-realized desire; and as Masamura further clarifies, “There is no such thing as a non-restricted desire. A person who thoroughly reveals his or her desire can only be considered mad....” [1]

So is Japanese cinema, in comparison to other countries’, limited in the light of their emotional constraints? It’s a yes and no answer. Certainly, the average “light drama” tends to not have the emotional fluctuations as the typical Amerian drama; the understated acting in Japanese films seems quite unnatural next to the convulsive, extroverted performances churned out by Hollywood each year. However, just as Masamura defines, the restrained emotions that are at the heart of Japanese dramas tend to be more individualistic and intimate than most other film cultures around the globe. In Grave of the Fireflies, the horrors of the Second World War are portrayed through the personal struggles of the film’s two young siblings, their survival amidst the destruction of the Japanese. There is a tragic level of inconsequentiality in relation to the conflict; the brother and sister meet their own death in a way that underlines the Japanese’s own hopeless defeat in the war.

Although Japan’s loss in the war generated a considerable amount of films expressing such a defeat, familial dramas have always been the quintessential example of traditionalism and restraint. Ozu, Shinoda, Nomura, Mizoguchi, Kurosawa and many other world-renowned Japanese masters often depicted their culture through the joys and misfortunes domestic interactions. Yoshitaro Nomura’s Kichiku tells of a wife’s desertion of her spouse and three kids after her husband fails to provide sufficient financial support for the family. Kenji Mizogucho’s Ugetsu shares a similar presence: the husband of a family in dire need of money to support his family is tempted by greed and consequently allows his wife and child to suffer. A noted perception of dramatic revelations within these pieces is that the individuals who often act on self-indulgence suffer at the fate of others, specifically loved ones. This emphasizes a traditionalistic notion of Japanese culture that self-preservation is one of the worst of sins; a straying on unity and collectivism exposes an unforgivable selfishness.

Analysis of world cinemas uncovers the cultures behind the lenses, but as the medium morphs and expands so to does the abilities for directors to convey those cultures. Anime, much like most cinematic movements, flourished under significant movements within the Japanese society. The genre permitted artists to express their frustrations with exponential progression within the economy and culture as well as the departure of traditionalistic values within the culture. Cinema, specifically classical Japanese, demonstrates that there is a necessary establishment for history, contemplation, anthropology, and so many more social sciences. One can only hope that somebody wouldn’t cast their parents to a day spa during their visit. The least one could do is go with them.

Girlfriend's A-blogging

It turns out that my girlfriend will be manifesting her own blog. Her contribution, as I had initially suggested, might be significantly reduced to do this news. My head falls to the floor... I tease. Anyway, I'll be linking her blog on here shortly. In the mean time here's are a few things:

• I'll be providing analysis for some of my favorite films within the next several days.
• Anybody with complaints about the legibility of my current template please comment. Your opinions, of any sort, are that of which I feed upon.
• I'll be posting a sports article non-Vick related rather soon.

Thanks!

20 Favorite Films.

Forest of Bliss, Robert Gardner(1984)

It does appear to be rather rudimentary, yes, but I'm effectively running my posting number to 3 upon completion here and shedding some light on my taste & passions. Feel free to comment on my list and/or provide one of your own. Remember, my lists are highly ephemeral.





(in no particular order, English titles)

Love Streams (John Cassavetes)
Nostalghia (Andrei Tarkovsky)
Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola)
Je t'aime, Je t'aime (Alain Resnais)
Miami Vice (Michael Mann)
Goodfellas (Martin Scorsese)
Forest of Bliss (Robert Gardner)
Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock)
The Life of Oharu (Kenji Mizoguchi)
White Dog (Sam Fuller)
Eraserhead (David Lynch)
Persona (Ingmar Bergman)
Y Tu Mama Tambien (Alfonso Cuaron)
Hiroshima Mon Amour (Alain Resnais)
Inland Empire (David Lynch)
Woman in the Dunes (Heroshi Teshigahara)
Zerkalo (Andrei Tarkovsky)
Sunset Boulevard (Billy Wilder)
Hana-Bi (Takeshi Kitano)
Nights of Cabiria (Federico Fellini)

Galvanize this?

Alright, so for a few months I've been pathetically neglecting this blog...mostly because I've really had nothing better to do and that I have a distinct tendency to actually be more productive when I'm actually being productive. However, ultimately, it has really just been omnipresent fear that I'm so far behind on the whole blog community thing and that I'm essentially at risk of being washed out amongst the millions of other people who have more important things to say... and are better at saying it. In other words, I suppose I would have been better off trying (initially) to make this something therapeutic--which is also sort of a paradox-- rather than a self-establishment of communicative necessity. Either way, I've come to say that I'm going to give this another shot. [/martyring]

Moving on...

The objective now is that I feel a need to reinstate and clarify how I want this blog to flourish, rather than flounder in its current state:

• Fundamentally, I wanted to use this site as a library for my film criticism/analysis. I have a rather large penchant against the vacuity of film criticism nowadays in the sense that I think the internet has promoted an informal approach to the process; Chauvinism tends to be rather prevalent as the result of striving distinguishment. Don't get me wrong, if done right I think there's nothing wrong with negotiating between playfulness and formality; however, the maligned efforts of critics to supersede content with baseless assertions of "apparent falacies" has led to an inevitable debasement of the form.

• I'm also looking to contribute casual enthusiasm for the medium through film festivals I'm looking to attend, film retrospectives, interviews, and my own personal experiences with the medium. I'm attempting to work on a short this fall as well as complete a screenplay. My girlfriend also is looking to adapt a Victorian novel, so I'll keep "you guys" (ah, the ambiguity!) up on that, too.

• Which brings me to my girlfriend's contribution...it's entirely open at this point. She's actively interested in a continual input to this blog however will not be limited to intrinsic perspectives that we had previously suggested; the upcoming election and her evolving interests in media, fashion, and literature recently have enlightened her interest in communication. Our relationship represents another source of enthusiasm and insight that we emphatically want to represent on this blog (not in the cheesy, hackneyed LiveJournal manner). Transcribing the joys and difficulties of a relationship, I think, has the ability to illuminate the other interests portrayed on this blog, as well as to convey the methodology of our approaches to these interests.

• Finally, I'm hoping to expand by means of joining with another blog--I've talked with a few interested individuals--or by connecting this blog with other websites of similar interests. More on this later.

In conclusion...

I understand that there must be hesitancy towards these promises. After all, my noncompliance for the last couple months paints a distinct cloud above all of this. However, as I previously noted, I've sought to reinvest my faith into these vast territories that I had originally planned on venturing.."Not creating delusions is enlightenment. " (Bodhidharma)

Austintation.

Hey, "bloggers"...

I'm still trying to work on my whole approach to this blog, so bear with me for a little bit until I find my footing. Roughly, it's a collaboration between myself and my girlfriend whereas the perspectives provided will mostly dangle between cinema, fashion, and relationships. If anybody has any individual questions you can contact me at sensenomaking@hotmail.com