Dennis Rodman, who speaks almost entirely in basketball terms (note the title), is partnered with Jean-Claude Van Damme in this absolutely hilarious action movie by the supposedly renowned Hong Kong filmmaker Tsui Hark. I have only seen this film, and as a result intend to stay away from anything connected with his name. I did know, even before I was aware of the movie, that it would be god-awful; however, my expectations were surpassed by quite a bit. It was hard to follow the story because every scene was interrupted by some act of violence (be it an explosion, a gun fight, or even just a fist fight).
I’ve watched a decent number of action movies because they are reliably terrible. The inept actors and positively ludicrous stories really make me laugh quite a bit. There are some elements of this film (Double Team) that seem essential to all bad (possibly the good as well—though good action movie sounds paradoxical) action movies: explosions before the opening credits, a super-agent who has moved on, a wife who opposes the super-agent’s line of work, young children as collateral damage, some sort of conspiracy, and finally a villain* who wants to destroy the world .
The conspiracies involved, as I said in Journal 12, are probably what draw my interest. In this movie, the government has a secret island where they send all of their agents who are “too valuable to execute, but too dangerous to be free”. This entire movie seems to have been written by 10-13 year old boys. I would highly recommend this movie if you are looking for one that lacks ALL aspects of decent film. When you know this before watching it there is a certain amount of enjoyment that can be had. It’s the kind of Schadenfreude that one does not have to feel guilty over.
*Antagonist, to me, implies a certain depth. The writer’s of bad action films can decorate the villain with as many details as they want, but they (the villains) always seem to have extremely evil plans, power, and wickedness at the expense of depth.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Film Journal 7 – Delicatessen
The first film by collaborating filmmakers Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro, Delicatessen, takes place in France—time unspecified, however it seems to be either an economic depression or post-apocalyptic. Whichever the case may be, the economy is so bad that people have been reduced to cannibalism. The depression is certainly underlined by the atmosphere both in and outside the building. Outside everything is foggy and the buildings all seem to be decaying. While inside, the butcher and landlord, Clapet, has been killing his newest tenants and serving them to his regular leasers. All of the people in the building are aware of the goings on, and some even get short-tempered because of the amount of time it takes Clapet to “ice” Louison, the newest tenant.
Throughout the movie Louison proves himself to be a very talented musician, skillful worker, and a genuinely good natured individual. He becomes close with Julie Clapet—the butcher’s daughter—which allows him slightly more time; however, the film’s climax comes during a rooftop battle between Clapet and Louison during a screening of Louison’s clowning with his partner Dr. Livingstone.
This film exhibits some of the most quirky characters with incredibly interesting idiosyncrasies. The most notable side-character, Aurore, continuously attempts to commit suicide with very, almost Rube Goldberg-like methods. Her attempts further emphasize the idea that one cannot change fate. There are a few conversations involving ideas of fate, at least one of which ends with the phrase: “The winds are shifting.” The winds certainly do shift when Clapet kills himself (with the Australian) in an attempt to kill Louison. Following this Julie and Louison presumably take over the building and the last scene is the two of them on the roof and for the first time the sky is blue—the winds had certainly shifted. There could not be a better ending than these two shy, quirky individuals playing their music (Livingstone’s favorite song) on the roof, during a beautiful day.
Throughout the movie Louison proves himself to be a very talented musician, skillful worker, and a genuinely good natured individual. He becomes close with Julie Clapet—the butcher’s daughter—which allows him slightly more time; however, the film’s climax comes during a rooftop battle between Clapet and Louison during a screening of Louison’s clowning with his partner Dr. Livingstone.
This film exhibits some of the most quirky characters with incredibly interesting idiosyncrasies. The most notable side-character, Aurore, continuously attempts to commit suicide with very, almost Rube Goldberg-like methods. Her attempts further emphasize the idea that one cannot change fate. There are a few conversations involving ideas of fate, at least one of which ends with the phrase: “The winds are shifting.” The winds certainly do shift when Clapet kills himself (with the Australian) in an attempt to kill Louison. Following this Julie and Louison presumably take over the building and the last scene is the two of them on the roof and for the first time the sky is blue—the winds had certainly shifted. There could not be a better ending than these two shy, quirky individuals playing their music (Livingstone’s favorite song) on the roof, during a beautiful day.
Film Journal 11 – Wendy and Lucy
“Indie” credibility, in my opinion, began with Little Miss Sunshine and peaked with Juno. The former is a guilty pleasure, but I absolutely detested the latter. The problem with this trend is the shift in the films’ form. The idea of an “independent” film has ceased to mean a film made independently and has become a specific style and aesthetic: drawings (that all have the same/very similar style), affected dialogue, and everyday occurrences handled in witty, even extraordinary, ways. Examples of the trendy, formulaic style of drawing:
One of the many things Kelly Reichardt’s Wendy and Lucy does very effectively is allow Wendy’s characterization to show through her actions and the obstacles she faces. Though the film lacks any real plot (Wendy is going to Alaska, she stops in Oregon, she loses her dog, and she finds her dog), the basic elements that are provided, in addition to the portrayal of Wendy by Michelle Williams, is all anyone truly watching the film needs to understand Wendy. As Roger Ebert said in his review of the film, “I know so much about Wendy . . . at this moment: stranded in an Oregon town, broke, her dog lost, her car a write-off, hungry, friendless, quiet, filled with desperate resolve.”
An interesting aspect of the film is its setting’s complacency. Everything in the town is at a standstill, except Wendy. She becomes trapped by the police, the mechanic, and most importantly the pound. When she is able to sever ties with all but her dog she continues on her journey, after she’s made a promise to come back for Lucy when she’s made a lot of money.
Works Cited
Ebert, Roger. "Wendy and Lucy." Rev. of Film. Sun Times [Chicago] 28 Jan. 2009. Rogerebert.suntimes.com. 28 Jan. 2009. Chicago Sun Times. 21 July 2009.
Juno Picture: http://www.soundstagedirect.com/media/juno_soundtrack.jpg
Away We Go Picture: http://screencrave.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/away-we-go.jpg
One of the many things Kelly Reichardt’s Wendy and Lucy does very effectively is allow Wendy’s characterization to show through her actions and the obstacles she faces. Though the film lacks any real plot (Wendy is going to Alaska, she stops in Oregon, she loses her dog, and she finds her dog), the basic elements that are provided, in addition to the portrayal of Wendy by Michelle Williams, is all anyone truly watching the film needs to understand Wendy. As Roger Ebert said in his review of the film, “I know so much about Wendy . . . at this moment: stranded in an Oregon town, broke, her dog lost, her car a write-off, hungry, friendless, quiet, filled with desperate resolve.”
An interesting aspect of the film is its setting’s complacency. Everything in the town is at a standstill, except Wendy. She becomes trapped by the police, the mechanic, and most importantly the pound. When she is able to sever ties with all but her dog she continues on her journey, after she’s made a promise to come back for Lucy when she’s made a lot of money.
Works Cited
Ebert, Roger. "Wendy and Lucy." Rev. of Film. Sun Times [Chicago] 28 Jan. 2009. Rogerebert.suntimes.com. 28 Jan. 2009. Chicago Sun Times. 21 July 2009
Juno Picture: http://www.soundstagedirect.com/media/juno_soundtrack.jpg
Away We Go Picture: http://screencrave.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/away-we-go.jpg
Film Journal 3 – Miller’s Crossing
Joel and Ethan Coen have time and again proved to be the most interesting mainstream filmmakers in contemporary America. Whether one is watching a Coen brother’s original (Fargo, Raising Arizona, The Hudsucker Proxy) or one of their adaptations (Oh, Brother Where Art Thou?, No Country For Old Men) it is almost impossible to dislike their incredibly skillful composition and their story telling ability. Their characteristic long dramatic shots are effectively utilized to emphasize a pensive mood or a powerful, and power shifting, action sequence.
Miller’s Crossing is their follow up to Raising Arizona about a conflict between the Irish mob boss Leo, who runs the town, and the usurping Italian mob boss Caspar, who is “tired of gettin’ the high hat!” The film actually centers on the gambling and alcohol addicted right-hand-man (of Leo) named Tommy. He has a secret relationship with Leo’s partner Verna, and eventually switches “teams” and replaces Caspar’s right-hand-man Eddie Dane. He does this through a series of well calculated “plays” and deceit.
One of the principle themes in this film is the idea that these men are all very similar to children. Much of the dialogue, with regard to one’s status in either mob, uses terms such as: “play,” “side,” and “team”. Another one of the themes has to do with the imagery of hats. A strong focus on the hat with relation to the person can yield interesting results. Jung suggests that wearing a hat is like becoming somebody else, and this could certainly apply to Tommy. Whenever he [Tommy] is not wearing his hat—after a beating, after losing it on a bet, or after falling down because of how drunk he is—he is truly a representative of himself; however, whenever he is wearing his hat he has a tendency to switch sides, tell lies, and be perceived as powerful.
Miller’s Crossing is their follow up to Raising Arizona about a conflict between the Irish mob boss Leo, who runs the town, and the usurping Italian mob boss Caspar, who is “tired of gettin’ the high hat!” The film actually centers on the gambling and alcohol addicted right-hand-man (of Leo) named Tommy. He has a secret relationship with Leo’s partner Verna, and eventually switches “teams” and replaces Caspar’s right-hand-man Eddie Dane. He does this through a series of well calculated “plays” and deceit.
One of the principle themes in this film is the idea that these men are all very similar to children. Much of the dialogue, with regard to one’s status in either mob, uses terms such as: “play,” “side,” and “team”. Another one of the themes has to do with the imagery of hats. A strong focus on the hat with relation to the person can yield interesting results. Jung suggests that wearing a hat is like becoming somebody else, and this could certainly apply to Tommy. Whenever he [Tommy] is not wearing his hat—after a beating, after losing it on a bet, or after falling down because of how drunk he is—he is truly a representative of himself; however, whenever he is wearing his hat he has a tendency to switch sides, tell lies, and be perceived as powerful.
Film Journal 1 – Aguirre: Der Zorn Gottes (The Wrath Of God)
Herzog’s first work with one of his favorite actors and self-proclaimed “dearest enemy”, Klaus Kinski, chronicles the vain searches of Spanish conquistadors to find the land of El Dorado. This mythical land, which contains quantities of gold and jewels, the likes of which no man has ever laid eyes on, is said to be just a few days up the river.
Once Gonzalo Pizarro has been tried, before the “emperor” of this new land, and proved to be unfit to lead them onward and guilty of mutinous intentions, Aguirre becomes obsessed with his plans to reign as ruler of South America. He forces his men to continue onward to the fabled El Dorado, and his obsession leads, inevitable, to insanity. Herzog’s direction plays a major role in the depiction of Aguirre’s insanity. Often there are shots of Aguirre staring menacingly beyond the camera. In addition to the insanity these long views reveal to the audience, they also underline the utter alienation and isolation Aguirre feels. He is completely, both physically and mentally, apart from all of civilization; this of course fuels his greed for land. The film ends with Aguirre giving his last monologue to the only creature who would listen: the monkey he has caught in his hand. Again, the direction indicates his insanity because the camera (all on shot) is spinning all around the raft, on which only the animals and Aguirre remain.
A theme prevalent in much of Herzog’s films is the desire for the unattainable. In the case of Aguirre: der Zorn Gottes, the unattainable is not only the land of El Dorado, but a place to proclaim as home in the distant continent. A similar theme is expressed in Woyzeck, when the town’s children come running up to Maria (Franz Woyzeck’s wife) and ask her to sing them a song. Instead, she tells them the story of a little girl who was born with no father and no mother. She travelled to the moon, the sun, and the stars—and none of these things were what she had hoped they would be. Now she sits alone in the universe crying.
Once Gonzalo Pizarro has been tried, before the “emperor” of this new land, and proved to be unfit to lead them onward and guilty of mutinous intentions, Aguirre becomes obsessed with his plans to reign as ruler of South America. He forces his men to continue onward to the fabled El Dorado, and his obsession leads, inevitable, to insanity. Herzog’s direction plays a major role in the depiction of Aguirre’s insanity. Often there are shots of Aguirre staring menacingly beyond the camera. In addition to the insanity these long views reveal to the audience, they also underline the utter alienation and isolation Aguirre feels. He is completely, both physically and mentally, apart from all of civilization; this of course fuels his greed for land. The film ends with Aguirre giving his last monologue to the only creature who would listen: the monkey he has caught in his hand. Again, the direction indicates his insanity because the camera (all on shot) is spinning all around the raft, on which only the animals and Aguirre remain.
A theme prevalent in much of Herzog’s films is the desire for the unattainable. In the case of Aguirre: der Zorn Gottes, the unattainable is not only the land of El Dorado, but a place to proclaim as home in the distant continent. A similar theme is expressed in Woyzeck, when the town’s children come running up to Maria (Franz Woyzeck’s wife) and ask her to sing them a song. Instead, she tells them the story of a little girl who was born with no father and no mother. She travelled to the moon, the sun, and the stars—and none of these things were what she had hoped they would be. Now she sits alone in the universe crying.
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