Reflections in Paris, Texas

Paris, Texas came to me recommended when I asked a friend what her favorite film is. She responded "Paris, Texas, it was directed by Wim Wenders," to which I was quick to say "I adore that director."

Looking back at the discussion I feel as if I had done Wim Wenders a disservice. After all, I had only seen two of his films: the absolutely captivating Wings of Desire and one of his lesser known documentaries on Yasujirō Ozu: Tokyo-Ga.

I regret that statement even more having watched Paris, Texas. There's just so much to the canon of Wim Wenders that I didn't even realize, despite the amount that I took in when I viewed Wings of Desire.

Like Wings of Desire, Wim Wenders includes undertones that represent the flow of cinematic history. This is unfortunate for me as a young millennial viewer because I had never experienced those particular shifts present in the film. No longer had westerns been the standalone powerhouse of American cinema. It didn't die, but rather it found itself in a place of transition. Most westerns thrive today because they serve as a genre blender ingredient.

This makes Paris, Texas much more effective given it's time and it's place, not just within the confides of it's narrative, but also as a footnote within the progression of film making.

Really, it isn't too much of a shock. I had experienced the portrayal of this shift in Pixar's Toy Story, where Buzz Lightyear's sci-fi flashiness looked to usurp the more conventional western Woody, but even then it's still a historical representation and not me actually living in that time.

After all, the generation I grew up in seems to be steeped in a gritty renaissance; one that wants to hearken back with remixes and remediation.

So, while Paris, Texas was before my time, I find myself entranced and compelled, even believing that this was a film made from today. Some of my reasoning stems from the fact that Wim Wenders tactfully places these concepts not at the forefront, but rather in the backdrop for a broken family narrative, something that is consistently good to watch in any genre if done correctly.

It honestly made me think of the redemption story of Heracles (or Hercules if you're feeling Greek). Like Heracles, Travis found his family destroyed by his masculinity, another reason the western is a fitting genre with it's cowboys and vast landscapes of loneliness. It's no surprise then that Travis essentially travels through a proverbial hell. Most view Heracles heroically. This is no different from Travis, but I believe the true heart of both figures journeys beats with a sense of tragedy.

Like I said, broken families are consistent holders for drama, even in mythological times.

Continue then, on the theme of masculinity. There is a great scene of resounding courage. I'm talking about the confrontation between Travis and Jane. The one-way looking glass in the setting of a striptease serves as a reinforcement of this theme, similar to old-school Hitchcockian moments.

In the first encounter Travis is too scared to even talk. We as an audience understand that. Christian Metz had often cited in his critical writings on cinema that we enjoy films partially because we don't have to deal specifically with what's going on on the screen. There's a barrier, which serves to buffer our passion for perceiving. Think then what courage it takes to deal with what's in front of us. A lot of good films serve a reflection. They present a parade of feelings, allowing us in. Travis is dealing with the same. He sees happiness, but he also sees sorrow in the scene. The set up is there from earlier in the film, when Travis is watching super 8 home movies. He can tell there's a difference between seeing and confronting.

After the first encounter Travis engages in one last talk with his son and realizes what must be done. He returns back to the striptease to do something truly self-less. He cannot have what he had before: the relationship with Jane, but he can reunite mother and son. It's a emasculating moment for him, but that doesn't mean it isn't courageous. It's actually one of the most courageous things I've ever seen any character do in a cinematic narrative.

Even as I write I can't help but feel like I've been staring at a reflection. Strange, I'm not a father, and I wasn't particularly raised on westerns. This is what Wim Wenders seems to do, at least, in the limited amount of film I've seen by him. He makes you reflect and asks if you have the courage to acknowledge your reflection.

Review: Frank

"Not everyone can be Frank." - Don

This sentence is spoken via Don (played by Scoot McNairy) - one of the bandmates to the enigmatic Frank (played by Michael Fassbender). It's also the phrase that carries the film ahead to a zone beyond mediocrity.

One can gush about the performances, which are overall quite good, but what makes Frank soar higher than it should is it's explorations of public perception within the confines of technology and concepts that embody what it means to be "Frank."

Despite the title of the film our eyes do not follow the mind of Frank, but rather a band member who made his way in due to a stroke of luck: Jon (played by Domhnall Gleeson). He becomes their keyboardist and quickly establishes a social media network composed of twitter and youtube that are utilized to bare witness to the band's quirky antics.

Makes sense. Who wouldn't want to follow every move of a band named Soronprfbs?

With the views and followers rising with every video and tweet, Jon seizes the moment to convince the rest of the band that this is something to be embraced. Most of the band don't buy into it, but the centerpiece, Frank, does. This is where a sense of unlikability plays into the main character.

I suppose the best way to describe it is with a question: Is it still a character arc if that arc is upside down?

It's a manipulation of social media that creates this development. The band known as Soronprfbs belong in their own world. Jon sees them as insane yet interesting and dedicates himself to exposing them to the world whom he thinks will embrace them.

It turns out to be quite the opposite. Frank and his crew are the proverbial Frank-ensteins. And here is Jon introducing them to the mob. The social media world actually views them as freaks, their tweets and comments burn and sting as if they had torches and pitchforks in hand.

This is what makes it transcendent of the typical indie band fare and it carries the concept through to the end despite a role from Maggie Gyllenhaal that I'm not sold on and the occasional lull in story.

Frank brought up the thought that maybe somethings are better left unchanged. It's a familiar lesson, to be sure, but it stands out because of the way it went about exploring it. There's technology that hurts rather than helps, unknown wannabes that just want to be heard, and the people who are "Frank" with them, letting it be known that maybe people aren't cut out for that sort of thing either.

Oh, and there's a song that says "Kiss me, just kiss me Nefertiti."

★★★★

Obligatory Film Blog Entry Post-Life Itself

I remember the first time I actually cried reading a book. There are some good works of fiction out there right? Stuff that moves us, stuff that changes us. But up until that point I hadn't been hit as such.

It was actually for a work of non-fiction. Most would might consider it journalism? Maybe academia? I'm not too sure. But it was at the end of the intro of my very first book penned by Roger Ebert: The Great Movies. Here it is for your reading pleasure:

       "What happens when you see a lot of good movies is that directorial voices and styles begin to emerge. You see that some movies are made by individuals, and others by committees. Some movies are simply about the personalities they capture (the Marx Brothers and Astaire and Rogers). Others are about the mastery of genre, from Star Wars, which attempts to transcend swashbuckling, to Detour, which attempts to hide in the shadows of noir. Most good movies are about the style, tone, and vision of their makers. A director will strike a chord in your imagination, and you will be compelled to seek out the other works. Directors become like friends. Buñuel is delighted by the shamelessness of human nature. Scorsese is charged by the lurid possibilities of Catholic guilt. Kurosawa celebrates individuals in a country that suspects them. Wilder is astonished by the things some people will do to be happy. Keaton is about the struggle of man's spirit against the physical facts of the world. Hitchcock creates images that have the quality of guilty dreams. Sooner or later every lover of the film arrives at Ozu, and understands that the movies are not about movie, but about whether to move."

ROGER EBERT

Yes, that little passage right there struck me to the very core of my film fanaticism. Yasujiro Ozu had been a director that I was already a fan of and Ebert talks about his a bit in the full intro, citing that often times in our education we leave out the foreign films.

I mean, it held true when I attended Florida State College at Jacksonville and Florida State University. Which is strange right? A lot of great directors often cite foreign films as their favorites. 

People love French New Wave and all that jazz.

Which is not to say American cinema is inferior. Citizen Kane is what American cinema could be right? aka the best the world has ever seen, which Ebert agrees with.

Rather, it was an acknowledgement that I was right to appreciate this cinema and that I was right to want to show it to others.

But it wasn't just that, although if you know me I do love to self-indulge.

It's more so that he had some things to say about films that either 

1) I couldn't have said it better.

2) I hadn't seen or felt before.

You know the adage a person with talent hits a target that no one else could hit and a person who's a genius hits a target no one else can see?

That applies here. Ebert was a genius at viewing films as an audience member. It wasn't that it was purely the correct way to view. Rather it was the way he saw it and the way he conveyed it to others that either hadn't seen it or had seen it and were looking for new insight.

As I write this I keep realizing more and more how much I miss him.

Remember that time I thought Tree of Life was only okay, but then you compared it to a prayer and it evoked a feeling inside that I hadn't realize just upon my first viewing?

Remember when the very first quote I put up on my Facebook quotes section was:

 "Many films diminish us. They cheapen us, masturbate our senses, hammer us with shabby thrills, diminish the value of life. Some few films evoke the wonderment of life’s experience, and those I consider a form of prayer. Not prayer “to” anyone or anything, but prayer “about” everyone and everything. I believe prayer that makes requests is pointless. What will be, will be. But I value the kind of prayer when you stand at the edge of the sea, or beneath a tree, or smell a flower, or love someone, or do a good thing. Those prayers validate existence and snatch it away from meaningless routine."

Remember that time when I showed my friends Chungking Express and Copie Conforme, partially because I'm still thinking about that statement you made about the film student and Yasujiro Ozu?

No, you don't.

And you never will.

It was a dream of mine that one day, when I become that feature film director, you would watch my films and you would criticize me.

And I mean it in the sense that criticize should be portrayed. God, criticism is such a nasty word in our society today.

Critical thinking. That's what it is. I could only hope that you would have critically thought about my films, that my films would be worth a critical thought.

Unfortunately I'll never know.

But what I do know is that you have had a profound experience on Asher's life (Itself).

So…

Cheers

RIP ROGER EBERT.

Review: Snowpiercer

It's a difficult task to truly capture the essence of another medium. Something will always get lost in the translation. Look at some of the other major blockbuster films of the past decade. Everyone is always gonna complain about what they left out from the Harry Potter films. Snowpiercer though, seems to do what other films recently couldn't: really get the feel of it's source material and balance it seamlessly within the confines of the medium that is cinema.

So, how does it swing this? Well, the original story is Le Transperceneige, a French graphic novel published 1982.

Now, whether or not it adheres to the story fully isn't the point. What I appreciate here is the feeling it captures.

Curtis' progression through the train plays like a graphic novel. Each car is a new panel of the story. As such, the panels have different aesthetics that create a gallery of wonderfully tense moments with appropriate breaks in between. It also creates a sense of journey. It's a story we've heard before right? It's a hero from the slums (or whatever poorer location you can imagine) trying to get to the all-knowing entity with a group of extreme characters.

We've had our Wizards of Oz and now we have our Snowpiercers.

Sure, they're very different in style and story. The fact of the matter is that the characters in both films are looking to solve their problems by going on a journey. It just so happens that along the way we get a sense of heart and courage.

Now, aside from it's brilliant capture of the graphic novel aesthetic, we also have a self-embodiment of theme.

The film has a consistent "machine" theme. It runs the audience through it's cogs introducing us to another piece of the ironwork. One could call it methodical in it's approach. This is no surprise. Joon-ho Bong has long been able to weave humor into horror then back into humor with the precision of a true master. It keeps us at the edge our seat without the worry that these characters will fall flat.

Oh boy. Those characters.

The characters that we embrace this journey with never lose even a twinge of humanity. They're extreme, yes, but that lends itself even more to the fact that it feels like a graphic novel. They still take on the actions that I genuinely feel these characters would take.

There's a pivotal moment about halfway through the film where Curtis has to make a choice. It's a choice that has gone either way in the history of story-telling. What matters though is what Curtis would do. Where does Curtis fit in with all those prior heroes? Once the choice is made, the film continues, validating the choice and creating an understanding.

It's character development by not necessarily adding new knowledge to the character mind, but rather revealing what the character already knew. It takes a master craftsman to present this cleanly. Joon-ho Bong does just that.

So in a sea of people clamoring for something original I implore you to watch Snowpiercer. It makes use of a unique dystopian back drop. It provides us with action sequences that are fresh and engaging. It satiates a want to know that filmmakers understand some of our great fears as well as our great hopes. The film is soaring. Join it for a truly wonderful ride.

★★★★★

Admissions of Mulan: The Bechdel Test

I watched Admission for the first time today.

I'll admit, I truly am a sucker for rom-coms. They exist in a world of ridiculous fantasy often times. They strive to be a sort-of feel good romp. They provide me with the occasional laugh or more if it's executed well enough. Often times, they also feature a female lead with a sense of humor.

So naturally I would make make time for Admission.

It stars Tina Fey.

That statement alone makes anyone who are fans of sitcoms during the past couple of years jump on board.

It also has Paul Rudd.

He has the looks to be one of those action star types, but always grounds himself, bringing about often under-appreciated performances of pure comedic bravado.

Admission has the hooks: a little bit of comedic star power, a relatable story about getting into the university of our choosing (common amongst folks, at least in a first world environment), and it's even a adaptation of an already established book.

Oh, and let's not forget: It passes the Bechdel Test.

But see. Here's the thing. The movie isn't that great.

Sure, it was good for a few laughs. Paul Rudd does a good job as the caring father-figure. Tina Fey is Tina Fey, which is awesome, but isn't enough considering her character occasionally becomes rough around the edges. It also has a final act that doesn't just dive, it flat out bombs, with so much speed it has no time for a steady, safe landing, drilling the moments it establish right into the earth.

This got me thinking about the whole thing. Should I even praise the film for passing the Bechdel Test? Do I want to lump this supposed test of feminism in with a film that I truly find to be mediocre?

I'm sure many others have asked that question recently. After all, Frozen was within the year. While I personally liked Frozen, many people found it to only be okay, or even terrible. This brought in many perspectives on the matter. Some disliked it, but praised it, simply because it passed the Bechdel Test. Some disliked it, and stated that there were better films out there that passed the Bechdel Test and would be a better representation of women. Some simply said it was a step in the right direction for Disney.

This to me is just a mess.

While it was fun upon it's first use, the Bechdel Test creates a tangible thing. It creates a formula that materializes the worth of a woman in fiction. It drives this position that if a woman doesn't do this, she is less of a woman.

First off, an author doesn't owe that. Actually,  fiction in general doesn't owe itself to pass the Bechdel Test. And not all stories that pass the Bechdel Test empower women. What if I made a film with a female lead in a man's world? And I'm not talking succeeding by their standards, because the film that comes to mind is one that always brings up the discussion: Mulan.

A FILM BY DISNEY NO DOUBT!

So, a few things.

"She had to become a man to do all these things that are supposedly women-empowering"

Okay. Yes. And by the end of the film, what does the world see her as?

That's right, not a man, BUT A WOMAN.

Hell, I'd go even farther than that. It's just about being a man or woman at that point. It's about being a hero.

"In order to even imagine female heroism, we're placing it in the realm of fantasy." - Kathleen Karlyn of the University of Oregon.

First off, this seems a little bit like a contradiction. In order to imagine… realm of fantasy.

Imagine… fantasy.

Okay.

And since when did we watch films for the pure-unadulterated truth? Even a film that has a camera sitting there, recording all things that pass by is still a fabrication.

All films are fabrications. Some are just more honest about it, and it doesn't make it's lesson and examples any less profound.

Mulan IS an example of female empowerment. She is a hero that is also a woman. What happens in the history books is a different study, but what the filmic embodiment of Mulan did is still something worth watching and worth learning from.

And on top of that, she still feels real to a modern audience.

I'm not talking like… live action and tangible, because obviously this isn't a pure adaptation of the legend. It's Disney-fied.

But rather she… cuts her toenails. She cares for her father. She has a dog. She feels disappointment. She undergoes an identity crisis. She wants to live up to something.

She does things that make her human. Which, by the way, consists of both men AND women.

So, I implore you, oh wonderful reader and film-attendee. Do away with the Bechdel Test. You can make your own decisions. A woman's worth can't be measured in time.

Review: How To Train Your Dragon 2

It seems like yesterday that I was writing for Nonsensefilm. They are still great memories, filled with it's share of ups and downs, same as any source of creative minds who debate the subject matter of art. Just before viewing How to Train Your Dragon 2 I was taken aback to those days.

The year that the first How to Train Your Dragon came out was stupendous (For those of you who don't recall it was the year of The Social Network). How to Train Your Dragon was an out-of-left-field surprise. From it's humorous opening introduction to it's rip-roaring emotional conclusion, How to Train Your Dragon managed to fuel a raging debate at Nonsensefilm: Did Pixar really win with Toy Story 3? Fellow former Nonsensefilm critic Andrew Jones and I didn't think so. I even went so far as to name it's soundtrack the best of that year, an opinion I still hold on to (sorry Trent Reznor).

So what really was there to expect this time around?

I wasn't really sure to be honest. I know there was excitement, if only just to get that same feeling that I got from the first film.

There was also fear.

How could the film live up? People actually have expectations now. You were underestimated before, but now is no longer the case.

After clearing my head, I walked into the theater. My head was held high, sitting steady to be a perch for my 3D glasses, with my body treading the line of bracing disappointment or bracing approval.

And after about 2 hours. You will have found me walking out the theater with my breath taken away.

How to Train Your Dragon 2 is a basic story approached by a multitude of angles. It's no different from the first one. You have a parallel lined character arc that the main character, Hiccup and his dragon, Toothless, follow.

You have a couple of side characters. None of them really develop. The exception is Stoick, Hiccup's dad, whose world is rocked by the appearance of Hiccup's once-thought-dead mother.

Even the villain, Drago Bludvist, voiced excellently by the oft-overlooked Djimon Hounsou, lacked in any way, shape or form, the kind of depth one should strive for in a villain.

However, the film does get a resounding "okay" in that regard.

In other words I was easily able to let it off the hook for that. Why?

Well, simply put, the villain is the embodiment of a theme. Have you ever heard of the statement "It takes a village to raise a child?" The film loves this point.

Once again, we have the parallels motif. First, it was with Hiccup and Toothless, and now we have Drago and the unnamed alpha-dragon. Hiccup grew up in a village with the likes of family and a strong tradition. Sure, the first film altered some of that tradition, and as such has played a pivotal role in his steps towards young adulthood. Drago was not so lucky. His upbringing to would lead him down a road where control is something he will forever sought after.

Drago had no control early on in his life; crucial moments which lead to the traumatic "what could I have done?" experience.

So there you have it, basic, simple, two sides of the coin. One, literally village-raised, the other, a traumatic upbringing. It's a basic and great lesson within the context of the film's family theme.

And that's why it's safe and passable. Too many more layers and complexities could leave the audience, in particular the children, alienated and possibly with the feeling that they were struck down by a heavy hand. If you've ever watch a G.I. Joe cartoon, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about.

So with my inhibitions quelled by that thought, I was able to enjoy what I had sought after: flight scenes! John Powell's score! Dragon's that would put Khaleesi from Game of Thrones to shame!

It was all there, more or less.

The flight scenes are even more exhilarating this time around, which was something that I would figure to be hard-pressed. The scenes are deftly-handled. I never thought I'd see a scene that could match the beauty of the first film's "Romantic Flight," but I did. It was a truly tender moment shared by a mother and a son that emphasized the film's portrayals of family.

And speaking of "Romantic Flight," the score sustains the films exhilaration. Unfortunately, I cannot think of a musical moment that matched either "Romantic Flight" or "Forbidden Friendship." A lot the songs are re-hashed, slightly altered, no doubt to create an effect of nostalgia. It's nice, and I will be listening to it's soundtrack, I just don't see myself calling it the best of the year this time around due to the occasional feeling of been-there, done-that.

Finally, we up the ante on the dragons. Of course, our classic terrors and gronkles are back to tickle our fancy, but we also have newer ones ranging from the underwater seashocker to the gigantic bewilderbeast. They, of course, are the center of the action, and create great excuses for such sweeping flight sequences for the animators lush forestry and silky skyline.

So here I am. Still taken aback by what fun I had viewing this film. I laughed. I cried (much like I did in the first one). I crept forward in my seat. This is a more-than-worthy sequel to How to Train Your Dragon, and a film that genuinely embodies the term: Family film.

★★★★ 1/2

Awhile and Quentin Tarantino

When I first created this blog, about a week later I got a reply to write for nonsensefilm so I wasn't really being active. I've now returned just to post thoughts, etc. etc.

I actually have an upcoming speech to give on a person of interest. The person I've decided on is none other than Quentin Tarantino. It's been difficult though, the speech has a time limit of 3 minutes. I can talk about Taratino for hours. The man is brilliant, I mean, he just kicks ass. He described Reservoir Dogs  that way and it's just true. He kicks ass. On a higher thinking note and in all seriousness, Quentin's approach to film has been one that has fascinated me for years; ever since I was a 13 year old in Iceland where I saw Kill Bill Vol. 1 for the first time. Of course, at the time I only thought THIS IS AWESOME, but it now goes beyond that.

I've decided that I'll simply touch on biography based shenanigans, then make my way to the real stuff that got me interested in him: his films. The speech shall be fantastic, I haven't screwed up yet. I eventually have to get working on a classics review for Goodfellas. It'll of course be up on nonsensefilm.