Jaws (1975)
VERDICT:
10/10 Bigger Boats
Dude. It’s Jaws.
Jaws is about a big-ass great white shark that somehow finds its way to a quaint little Long Island beach town and starts eatin’ up swimmers like gangbusters in the days leading up to Fourth of July weekend. The chief of police wants the beach closed down, the idiot mayor fights him tooth and nail, a marine biologist rolls into town and tells the mayor he’s a fuckin’ moron, and then more folks get turned into hot lunch. Eventually things get so bad that they all decide the best course of action is to hire the shadiest buccaneer in the bay, take this fight to seas and turn this 25-foot sonofabitch into a shark sandwich.
I feel nothing but pure, cold shame for not writing up a single horror review over the entire span of October this year, but since this past weekend was the first time that my good buddy Fred and I actually came to the conclusion that if I wasn’t gonna man up and go trick-or-treating in my Dora the Explorer costume, something had to be done about this elephant in the room if. So I figured I had to make it a classic. And if anyone out there thinks that this isn’t a horror movie, brother, you are NUTS!
So Duel might have gotten him noticed, but this is what put Spielberg on the map. Didn’t take long for him to become Hollywood royalty as a result, but as misguided and easy as it is to call the guy a “hack”, the fact of the matter is that he’s just damn good at what he does and that’s why his movies make bank. His pacing is out of sight, he never moves the threat level outside of flaming hot crimson even when the shark isn’t around, and even though I’ve only heard stories, I can only imagine what a pain in the ass it must have been to make this movie. All the more reason why the finished product is that much more impressive.
Then again, he should probably be thanking his lucky stars that the machine used to operate the shark was a total piece of crap because half the reason this all works as well as it does goes back to us not even getting to see the damn fish ’til the last half-hour. But other than that fluke, Steve gets it done like a pro. From that horrifying music to the vague glimpses we’re provided of the shark’s leftovers, man, Steverino clearly knows a thing or two about tingling spines.
And even though the fish looks pretty dated these days once he starts belly-flopping onto the stern of the Orca, he’s pretty damn convincing under water. Also love the way Spielberg goes back and forth between the model and actual shark footage in certain scenes like when Hooper has the bright idea to try and poison the damn man-eater through a cage made out of heavy-duty aluminum foil. Anyone have any clues as to why he holds the spear outside of the cage? Yeah, that was a unusually dumb move.
But it doesn’t hurt that Steve’s got a trio of outrageously badass actors and characters to work with. Roy Scheider is great as water-phobic police chief Brody, Richard Dreyfuss is kind of the man as out-of-town fish nerd, Hooper, and Robert Shaw – hot off the heels of his insanely cool turn in The Taking of Pelham One Two Three – is just plain epic as 20th Century Ahab/proud Narragansett Beer spokesman, Quint. You got your brains, your brawn and your average joe, they are no effing joke, and I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie with three leads as hardcore and cool as these guys. And better yet, they’re all a blast to be around. They’re all totally fleshed out and unique, they’ve all got their own hang-ups and back stories (how about that “Anyway, we delivered the bomb” story of Quint’s?), and they’re not just chum for the taking, they’re genuine comrades through and through.
Alright, this movie just rocks, but one of my favorite movie memories was actually the first time I ever saw this, so it’s got that nostalgia factor going, too. I was in middle school, maybe 11 or 12, rented this on a lazy weekend, started watching it by myself in broad daylight in a room lined with floor-to-ceiling windows and tucked myself under an afghan on the couch so my eyes could barely see the screen. Clearly, I was ready, I was one hardcore mofo. The movie starts, the skinny dipping hippie gets it, no big deal. I feel so badass that I consider getting a tattoo, probably tribal. Then I’m fifteen minutes in and I witness this a-hole shark completely pass by the morbidly obese lady floating around in her tube and go straight for pruny little Alex on his dinky yellow raft. Before I know it, there’s blood everywhere, the raft is torn to shreds, Alex’s mom is a mess, and I am flat-out terrified. Without thinking twice, I lunge for the remote, jam on the STOP button and immediately fast-forward to the very end just to see how the shark dies. And, yes, the ending is as awesome as they come and if I hadn’t been so shell-shocked by the whole experience I probably would have cheered out loud, but no movie has ever had the same paralyzing effect on me that Jaws did.
With that being said, it is no surprise whatsoever that 35 years later this movie is still scaring the bejesus out of folks and making them think twice about taking a bath let alone cooling off in the ocean. Yeah, it’s more of a thriller than anything else, but if Quint’s final minutes don’t make you cringe and the captain’s head jumping out at Hooper doesn’t make you scream like a banshee, you, sir/madame, are a top candidate for bravest cat alive. It sucks that writer Peter Benchley ended up having to devote the rest of his life to reverse the damage this movie and his source material ended up causing to shark populations across the globe, but, man, sharks are bad news. Shark extinction: one of the rare drawbacks of having a great, funny script.
Folks, this is one of those movies I could go on about, but the long and short is that if you’ve never seen Jaws, you haven’t lived. I don’t care about that Nobel Peace Prize you won, throw that shit in the garbage and boot up Netflix, STAT! You don’t know what you’re missin’.
One of the best horror movies ever made, people. Truly makes you appreciate being at the top of the food chain.
Memories of Murder (2003)
VERDICT:
9/10 Scarlet Ladies
One of three big reasons why Bong Joon-ho is one of the best working directors out there.
Based on actual events, Memories of Murder is about a dumbass, crooked cop in ’86 who is forced to team up with a seasoned, city boy detective after a string of women are found raped and murdered in a local South Korean village. With few leads to go off of, a serious lack of cooperation to be had and the body count rising with each new rainy day, our unlikely duo put aside their differences and put their heads together to bring South Korea’s first and most notorious serial killer to justice.
If you’ve heard of Bong Joon-ho, chances are you’ve heard of the South Korean national treasure/one of the best movies of the past decade, The Host, and/or his latest effort that’s actually a lot like this one, Mother. If not, no worries, this is as good a place as any to start. Then again, you could be the one person from Seoul who reads this blog and know exactly what I’m getting at, but for me – and I think for a lot of us English-speaking folk – this one went unnoticed. Big thanks to Dave Schleicher for finally bringing it to my attention, but it is flat-out crazy that such an outrageously good movie like this can be such a national mega hit in its homeland and totally slip under the radar in The States.
I blame all that “Americans + subtitles = boring-ass shit” noise. Serenity now, man.
Anyway, talk about one fine-tuned piece of work. The best way I can plug Memories of Murder is to say that it’s like South Korea’s answer to Zodiac (even though that makes zero sense from a chronological standpoint), and while that’s some pretty high praise, it’s really freakin’ hard to compare Bong and everything he does to anyone else or anything they have to offer.
‘Cause there are a lot of things I like about this guy. In terms of pacing, Bong keeps sucker is tight and tense from start to finish. Just one nailbiting scene after another without a moment to spare as his characters gradually pull their heads out of their asses and start piecing together a gruesome puzzle that’s always a corner short. The plot is one big slow boil that places the killer comfortably in charge with no signs of stopping and even when we’re witness to abductions that the detectives can’t see for themselves, we’re still no more in the loop than they are. It’s awesome, it keeps you guessing, it toys with the audience just as it toys with the victims, and it’s really something the way Bong manages to turn the simplest of scenarios into goddamn heart-stoppers.
But aside from the story, the characters are really the ones who keep this so interesting. One of Bong’s more enjoyable trademarks is that all of his protagonists are idiots. They don’t usually stay that way and they’ve all got their endearing qualities about them, but they’re hard-nosed idiots all the same. And so we have Song Kang-ho as lead detective Park Doo-man, a guy who’s far more content with dropkicking a confession out of the first perp in sight than actually doing his job by getting off his ass, a quality that doesn’t exactly gel with his by-the-books partner. He’s an old school cop who uses his guts instead of his brain, he thinks he’s hot shit because his badge puts him above the lawe, and he really likes dropkicking people. But then his wildly ineffective ways are finally put to the test, he realizes that he needs to up his game in order to have any chance of catching the real deal, and the change is out of sight to watch.
Song is an awesome actor to begin with, but he is given some character arc to work with here. Great performances all around, really, but Song is the man and Park is one of hell of lead.
And like all of Bong’s movies, while the story will put you right on edge and ultimately ends up being no freakin’, it is a total riot for a long time leading up to that point. Lots of great, dimwitted back-and-forths, lots of slapstick, and it once again makes for a really unique and fun complement to all the morbid goings-on around town.
This is one of those movies that more people need to know about, a movie that will change any and all of your preconceptions about foreign films and subtitles and make you wish more English-speaking studios could meet this level of quality. Plot-wise, it has a very similar feel to Mother, and that’s A-okay by me, but Memories of Murder is just some absolutely wild stuff that would hands-down be the best thing Bong’s ever done if The Host hadn’t been so effing amazing. Wasn’t too crazy about the way one of the suspects dies at the hands of a painfully avoidable oncoming train, then again, that’s my only complaint, and that was pretty forgettable.
So damn intense and so damn engrossing; like, Silence of the Lambs intense and engrossing, only this one’s all true. Like I said, just one more reason why Bong is the man.
Twelve Monkeys (1995)
VERDICT:
7/10 Crazy Dentists
Probably could have been trimmed down a bit, but still one of the better time travel movies out there.
Twelve Monkeys follows a convict in the year 2035 who’s been volunteered by a group of scientists to be sent back to the year 1997 in order to trace the origins of a virus that wiped out 5 billion people and forced the remaining survivors to head underground for the next 38 years. Since time travel is apparently an imperfect science, our guy ends up stuck in a mental institution in 1990, makes friends with the supposed ringleader of the group that will eventually bring on the apocalypse, and struggles to convince himself and everyone else that he’s not crazy, he’s just trying to prevent worldwide genocide from the future.
Yeah, I probably wouldn’t buy it either.
So, it’s a movie by Terry Gilliam, and since Terry Gilliam’s the man, this is a good place to start. One of the few directors out there who makes movies that look absolutely nothing like anyone else can. You watch this or Brazil or Time Bandits or even Fear and Loathing, and it should take all of five minutes to get the sensation that you have just walked into a nightmare funhouse that you probably wouldn’t want to be a part of first-hand but can’t look away from as a passive observer. And as wild and comprehensive as this script is, Gilliam movies are usually worth watching because Terry-effing-Gilliam is behind the camera.
There are a lot of things he does well, but I guess it all boils down to the attention to detail for me. Because, man, if this is what jails in the year 2035 are gonna be like, I am on the straight-and-narrow for here on out and I sure as hell ain’t gonna question Bruce Willis when he comes asking me for help with bar codes tattooed on his neck. From the prisoners locked up in mass chain link cages, to the excessive amount of plastic and tubing that has become an integral part of every invention, to the present-day crack dens that look like one of the lower levels of Dante’s Inferno, to the endless amount of rusty cogs, wheels and quadfocals that all make the future look something along the lines of Satan’s cuckoo clock, it’s basically like sitting through a steampunk nightmare. And it’s as astounding as it is frightening.
Folks, it is just something to see. It’s this amazing, haunting dystopia, the likes of which would make Tim Burton sit back and think “Fuck, that’s weird,” and it totally complements the all-encompassing madness and paranoia that goes hand-in-hand with traveling through time while spending every last waking minute convincing the universe you’re not nuts. It’s not quite the fully realized world that Brazil was, but whatever, this is unforgettable stuff from one of the most vivid imaginations in Hollywood.
But alright, enough about Gilliam.
I don’t know where the hell screenwriter David Peoples has been holing up since penning Soldier back in ’98 (on second thought, I don’t blame him), but considering that this also the dude who wrote Blade Runner and Unforgiven, you’d think the answer would be a lot easier to Google these days. Nevertheless, his script is fine when it comes to dialogue, his script is fine when it comes to characters, but it is pretty freakin’ boss when it comes throwing five hundred things into the mix and bringing them all back to the point where nothing can be overlooked. When it comes to some of the plot’s more memorable turns, most of that credit can probably go back to La jetée – the short film that inspired this whole thing – but they are pretty effing memorable all the same.
But it’s time travel, and even when time travel doesn’t work, it typically tends to be pretty engrossing subject material. Just the whole idea of how anyone in their right mind would actually react to a “man from the future” scenario from a present-day standpoint, let alone from the said man’s point of view, is more than enough to fuel a script in itself. But then you throw in this Vonnegut-like plot line of impending doom and whether or not one can actually pull a Marty McFly and change the future by altering the past, and you’ve got a lot of cool stuff on your plate. And it is very impressive how Peoples brings the smallest of details that are shown in passing back to the forefront in a “How did it miss that?” kind of way, but there’s also one too many dragging small talk scenes with BW in a mental ward or BW jonesing to 20th Century radio stations that noticeably slow things down and take away from the insanity of it all.
And BW’s generally solid as our future man, James Cole, but I can’t be the only one who feels like the guy’s somewhat of a one-trick pony. Nothing against BW, I like BW, but he doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of range going for him. Although Christopher Plummer makes a nice little appearance with a pretty convincing Southern accent and Madeleine Stowe ain’t bad as Cole’s psychiatrist/main squeeze, Kathryn Railly. But the scene-stealer here is Brad Pitt as mental patient/definite anarchist, Jeffrey Goines. He’s like Tyler Durden if Tyler Durden had a metal plate in his head and took ritalin like it was a multi-vitamin, and while all the hand-flinging and weak middle fingers seem to run their course by the end, Pitt sure does crazy it up and keeps you glued.
I wasn’t crazy about it on the first go-through, but after a recent refresher course, Twelve Monkeys is actually pretty awesome. Utterly devastating, but awesome. Has a whole lot of Gilliam in it – which is more than enough reason to watch anything ever – and for a time travel joint that has so much going on, it does a great job of tip-toeing around the loopholes and throwing in a fresh new twist while bringing it all full-circle. There’s a part of me that really wants to give this an 8, because time travel + Terry Gilliam is a major win-win, but I don’t know, I just can’t ignore the part of me that got bored for a good twenty minutes or so. Will report back on the next viewing though, have a strong hunch it’ll get there.
Nutso stuff.
100,000 HITS, YO!
Man, you guys are the bomb. Plain and simple. Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, thanks for voting, thanks for eating, thanks for break dancing, thanks for the memories. Here’s to the next hundo!
And the worst dad is…
JACK TORRANCE!
Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be trapped in a haunted hotel with his ass either. But, man, go and watch Natural Born Killers. You ain’t seen bad parenting ’til you’ve seen Rodney Dangerfield behind the wheel. Would not want to play golf with that guy.
All the same, solid voting all around.
RESULTS
– Wacko Jacko: 16 votes
– Vader: 7 votes (he comes around)
– Ed Wilson from Natural Born Killers: 4 votes
– Bill Maplewood from Happiness: 3 votes (whoof)
– Mr. Perry from The Dead Poets Society: 3 votes (what an asshole)
– Jerry Blake from The Stepfather (the original): 2 votes (John Locke in the house)
– Keyser Soze: 1 vote (I think he’s the only one here who actually offed his kids, so that definitely counts for something)
– Dwight Hansen from This Boy’s Life: 1 vote (never seen it, hear he’s a bastard though)
– Col. Frank Fitts from American Beauty: 1 vote (that guy had some issues)
– Other: 1 vote for Peter McAllister from Home Alone (easier to pin that one on the mom, but this idiot is still very much to blame), 1 vote for Freddy Krueger from Freddy’s Dead (who the hell had sex with him?), and 1 vote for Denethor from The Lord of the Rings (yeah, he was a fuckin’ nut).
Well, be thankful, folks. At least you’re not on your dad’s hit list.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)
VERDICT:
8/10 Expecto Patronums
Thank you, Mr. Cuaron. Thank you showing us how it’s done.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban picks up with our guy HP heading off to his third year at Hogwarts after turning 13 and surviving yet another Summer with the worst effing muggle family on the planet. On the way there, he’s almost killed by soul-sucking dementors, but thanks to the help of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and his endless supply of chocolate, he dodges that bullet and eventually makes it to his dorm nice and safe like. As if that wasn’t enough, the dementors are now shacking up at school until further notice because a homicidal wizard said to be in kahoots with good old Voldy escaped from wizard prison and is looking to finish off Harry for good. And Malfoy got a new haircut, but he’s still fuckin’ jerk.
Never a dull moment at wizard high school, man.
So, no more Chris Columbus. That means no more cracking voices, no more Hagrid hug-a-thons, no more Moaning Myrtles or any of that kiddie crap that got real old real fast in Chamber of Secrets. Thank God. About damn time these kids grew the hell up.
But how the Hollywood bigwigs came to the consensus that the guy who wrote and directed Y tu mamá también (arguably the least child-friendly movie next to Requiem for a Dream and Debbie Does Dallas) would do a bang-up job of revamping this PG series with a healthy dose of looming death and ambiguously raging hormones, your guess is as good as mine. Jesus, you look at the guy’s resume and the words “Harry Potter” will make you do a double-take. But whoever that wacky producer was, hat’s off to them for taking an inspired risk on one of the best directors out there that paid off big time for everyone.
From the opening scene where Harry’s playing with his wand under his bedsheets (get it?), it’s easy to see that Cuaron is out to inject some new, borderline-PG-13 blood into this sucker. Then Harry finds himself getting a lift from a magic bus with a wise-cracking shrunken head from Jamaica, and you start to wonder how much acid Harry’s been taking all Summer because it starts to feel more like a Terry Gilliam movie than anything else. And that’s what’s great about Cuaron, that he totally gets rid of all the cutesy, childish elements of the past two entries and replaces them with a whole new kind of dark weirdness that perfectly complements the tone of the storyline and adds a whole new life to a world that was getting to be old hat.
It feels like a new Hogwarts, like we’ve only been allowed to see the east wing of the joint up until now and it’s just wild the difference a new set of eyes can make. In short, shit has gotten real in the wizarding world of HP, and, boy, was it in need of some realness.
But maybe I’m biased. The novel is one of my favorite of the seven and I love how awesome the story is without even having to throw V. Dizzle into the mix. Only issue is with the whole Time-Turner sequence (which is generally awesome) and Harry’s reasoning behind how he was finally able to cast his stag thanks to the aneurysm-inducing complexities of time travel, but at least Hermione is there to tell him that he’s talking like a fuckin’ lunatic. All the same, there are a number of knockout additions here, Time-Turner included.
First off, how about the introduction of two of the best characters this whole series has to offer: Remus-effing-Lupin and Sirius-effing-Black (is that not the coolest name or what?). Never seen David Thewlis in anything before, but he is so likable, so casually cool in tweed and plays Lupin to a tee. Great character in the books, might even be better in the movies. But come on, this movie belongs to Gary Oldman. Dude’s one of my all-time faves (I don’t even wanna hear that “overactor” noise) and if you ever want anyone to play a certifiable madman like no other, he’s your guy. God, just that “tattooed hobo” look of his and those wanted posters of him screaming in silence are more than enough to do it. Talk about a badass godfather. Guy makes Don Corleone looks like a cat-stroking chump.
And while Michael Gambon is good as the peppy, new Dumbledore, I miss wise, old Richard Harris. Just doesn’t have that same quiet strength going for him, but whatcha gonna do? At least Emma Thompson is fantastic as the one hippie witch in all of Hogwarts, Professor Trelawney.
But Rupert Grint is getting noticeably better as Ron now that he’s hit puberty and Emma Watson is still good as Hermione. Although Daniel Radcliffe does look flat-out ridiculous whenever Harry gets angry now. Other than that, Danny Boy can keep on doing his thing.
Man, I was really surprised by The Prisoner of Azkaban. Alfonso Cuaron was just what this baby needed, I love how dead-on he matched Rowling’s increasingly mature tone and I love what a noticeable change this is from Columbus. Wish screenwriter Steve Kloves had taken an extra ten pages or so to flesh out the back story of Black, Lupin, Pettigrew and HP’s dad from back in the day, also would have liked that to have been tied back into The Marauder’s Map, but whatever, his script has a solid sense of humor that the past two were very much missing and he hits enough of the important plot points that the nitpicky stuff doesn’t seem so big in the long run. That’s why you read the book anyway.
That Goblet of Fire‘s sure got a good deal to live up to. Still can’t wait to see Ed Cullen get offed though.
Breathless (1960)
VERDICT:
9/10 Tainted Loves
Could have been made yesterday…if folks actually remembered how to make ’em like this.
Breathless is about a womanizing car thief who guns down a cop while on the run and then meets up with an old fling in the city to stay out of sight. Lo and behold, he continually tries to get her in the sack, she continually plays hard-to-get, emotions are rekindled, emotions are tested, more cars are stolen all with the authorities hot on his tail.
Plot-wise, there’s not a whole lot going on here. It’s essentially a 90-minute cat-and-mouse story with a lot of talking heads where the fuzz spend the whole time chasing this guy down while he’s spending his days tiptoeing in the shadows trying to get smooth-talk his way into an American girl’s pants. Something tells me I’d be a bit too preoccupied with not getting killed/locked up/yelled at to pay my mojo any mind, but those French bad boys sure got their priorities set in stone.
Anyway, this all might seem pretty straightforward and unspectacular in theory, but in practice, it is absolutely enthralling. So what is it that sets this classic apart?
Two words, baby: jump cuts.
He may owe a crap-ton of credit to my man Jean-Pierre Melville for giving him the idea (although JP is given a great bit role here as an expert on the male/female dynamic), but the way director Jean-Luc Godard uses jump cuts here is a thing of beauty. It’s just a fool-proof solution to all the problems that have always plagued pacing in films. Scene running too long? Jump cut. Looking to turn every scene into a highlight reel instead of having to wade through all the obligatory fluff to get there? Go right ahead and jump cut that noise. Dialogue dragging? Run-time extending? Faucet leaking? Godard knows the drill and, boy, does he know it well.
You really have to see it in action. At first, it’s a bit strange to process when one second our guy shoots a cop on a dirt road in the countryside, the next instant he’s sprinting halfway across a razed hay field, and then you blink and he’s standing in the heart of a bustling city rubbing his lips and eyeing down chicks. But you get used to it because it flows, it keeps you on your toes and it all feels so damn natural.
For instance, the whole second Act is one long bedroom conversation between our international lovers. That’s it. Half-an-hour in the same room talking about sex, life and sex. The scene should have bored me to tears, but between the script and the delivery, it’s like the camera isn’t even there and we’re just watching two everyday people go on about everyday things. The said scene with Jean-Pierre Melville is very similar in this regard, and while that’s shorter than Act Two, it’s always something to see something that feels so unscripted and genuine.
And the relationship between these two just gets more and more interesting as they get more and more involved. Jean-Paul Belmondo (was it a law back then for every guy to be named Jean-something?) fits the bill quite nicely as carjacker extraordinaire/human chimney, Michel Poiccard. Kind of a dick at first, but he grew on me to the point where he might even be called “cool”. And Jean Seberg with all her Audrey Hepburn-ness is a perfect complement as Patricia Franchini. Girl’s a peach. But as easy as they are to watch on their own, it’s so much more fun watching them peel back the layers together.
Michel tends to wear his heart on his sleeve and doesn’t hesitate to tell anyone what’s on his mind regardless of whether they’re asking, but Patricia’s an enigma alright. She never really justifies her emotions with a straight answer, it’s hard to say why she’s so hung up on this small-time crook aside from the fact that nice guys do tend to finish last, and when all is said and done, it’s still hard to put a finger on what’s going on in that heart of hers. The girl’s absolutely adorable and I love all the back-and-forths between her and Michel, but the real draw to her character that keeps the script so interesting is her unpredictability. Guess you really can’t help who you fall in love with no matter how hard you want to feel otherwise.
For a movie nerd, there’s a lot to admire and go ape over here. For the average viewer, a lot of this ranting sound excessive, although I still like to think that there’s a lot to dig. But if there’s one thing to be said about this movie – and I think a lot of people say this – it’s that it was way ahead of its time. Breathless is simple, it’s gorgeous, and 50 years later it still feels fresh out the oven. You look at someone like Edgar Wright and you can see how jump cuts have evolved over the years, but this is what changed the game and continues to make most 21st Century efforts look like they actually were made 50 years ago. Doesn’t shine a whole lot in the crime genre, but being disappointed by that is missing
Not a bad place to start for my first Godard movie.
Persepolis (2007)
VERDICT:
8/10 Lives During Wartime
A surprisingly universal coming-of-ager set to a backdrop that a good deal of people will probably never experience.
Persepolis is the autobiography of one Marjane Satrapi detailing her upbringing in the midst of the Iranian Revolution from her days a rebellious youth with a jones for Iron Maiden to her woeful teen years of hard-learned self-discovery while studying abroad/struggling to survive in Austria. Eventually, she returns home a young woman and is once again forced to face the harsh reality of life under a tyrannical and corrupt regime that punishes sexuality and political activism with an firing squad.
Yeah, I didn’t know a damn thing about the Iranian Revolution going into this. Kudos to Satrapi for doing her best to break it all down so that a half-brained chimp like myself could understand it, but as with most cultural conflicts, the root of the issue isn’t exactly a cut-and-dry thing. All the same, the upside is that this is as much about Iran as it is about Satrapi’s wonderfully told life story that’s as hilarious and vibrant as it is tragic and unfortunate.
As a child, as a teen, and as a woman, Marjane Satrapi is freaking awesome. This is a gal who knows how to tell a story, and even if her whole life boiled down to freeloading on her parents’ La-Z-Boy, eating Doritos by the truck load and watching re-runs of The Price is Right, something tells me she’d still make it pretty damn captivating. As a narrator, she’s brilliant, and as a character, she makes the movie.
From a behavioral standpoint, Marjane changes a lot from age to age as she matures from pint-size freedom fighter to love-sick rebel; but when it comes to values, she’s a hunk of granite stuck in a culture where so many have gotten used to crumbling. She tells off cops when they tell her to cover up, she skips school to go buy heavy metal cassettes off the black market, she refuses to accept the place in society that everyone wants her to fit into, and that’s why she rocks. You might even call her a borderline badass. But aside from her beliefs and aside from her surroundings, she’s still your average girl trying to figure out exactly where her place in society is and that’s what makes her so relatable.
Despite the differences in worlds that she and I were brought up in, it’s wonderful how the most fascinating aspects of Marjane’s life are the ones that I felt like everyone goes through when they’re growing up. She battles depression, she gets back on her feet, she makes friends, she realizes they’re nothing like her, she falls in love, she gets her heart broken, she falls in love again, rinse, wash, repeat, and it’s amazing she somehow managed to capture all the highs and lows of figuring ourselves out in one pretty little nutshell. And that’s ’cause she’s honest. She doesn’t hide her mistakes and her highs are as invigorating as her lows are devastating, but whether there are bombs being dropped all around us or deer frolicking in the backyard, we’ve all been there at some point.
I mean, it’s hard to talk about this movie without just going off on Marjane because she is the movie. She’s the writer, she’s the director, she’s the artist, she’s the protagonist, and every last road leads back to her. But every compliment I can direct towards Marjane can just as much be said about her family. They’re the voices of wisdom, they’re the constants in her life and they’re as vital to who she is as the experiences she faces. Just some fantastic people who are wise beyond their years, people everyone could use in their lives.
But back to the art. What the animation lacks in color and detailed realism, simply gawking at still frames doesn’t do it justice. I was skeptical at first, but the animation here is more expressive, original and full of life than anything Pixar or Disney have put out since Toy Story. The black-and-white looks great for any mood that it tries to create, and even though it might not be all too impressive without seeing it action, it’s hard to forget such stark simplicity when everyone else seems to be reaching for the next big technical upgrade. Love it when folks take one step back to take two steps forward. So rare these days.
Now, I’ve never read the graphic novels this is based off of (they’re on my list), so with the whole war setting going for it, I thought this was going to be something along the lines of Maus. And while the end result is is entirely different from what I had initially imagined, I’m not disappointed in the least, but rather pleasantly surprised with how much more I ended up getting. When I think of some of my favorite autobiopics (should I trademark that word?), all the ones that come to mind are about men. Not sure why that is, but Marjane’s story really is up there with the best of them, and I can’t stop digging that. I love how up-front she is, I love how funny she is and it fucking rules to meet such a genuine, grounded, and awesome person such as herself.
From the foreign title to the vague poster to the deceptively simple animation, I can imagine this being a hard sell for some, but Persepolis really is something else. Just an expertly told story of a fascinating and familiar life from the last place I would think to find it. Right up there with Waltz with Bashir in terms of paving a new road for animated movies that excel in challenging, adult storytelling just as well, if not better, as a live-action movie can.
Inside Deep Throat (2005)
VERDICT:
7/10 Sword Swallowers
Well, it sure ain’t about Watergate.
Inside Deep Throat is a documentary about one of the most profitable movies ever made that sparked a sexual revolution in America, helped turn the porn industry into the freakin’ beast of a success that it is today and made the God squad right wingers totally lose their shit until this sick filth was tarred, feathered and banned from every house, home and theater in the country.
Those Nixonites, man. Freakin’ tightasses.
Hoo, boy. So, it’s a movie about good ol’ Deep Throat. Never watched the source of inspiration myself and since I don’t foresee Cut The Crap Porn Reviews coming up on the horizon any time soon, I doubt that’s gonna change. Anywho, if this is all news, all you need to know is that Deep Throat is a porno that came out ’72 about a poor gal who discovers that the reason she couldn’t “get there” is because her…let’s just call it a “rabbit” for all the younger readers out there who should probably be catching up on iCarly reruns instead of reading this garbage…because her “rabbit” is located in the back of her throat. And that’s about it. The whole movie is about her finding a way to scratch that itch, it was made for $25,000, it brought in millions upon millions thanks to a whole lot of mob involvement, and everyone from Dr. Ruth to Jackie O. bought a ticket.
Sex. Effing. Sells.
But as interesting as it is to hear about how the movie came together, the “talented” individuals in front of and behind the camera, how none of them thought it was gonna be a success and how effed up their lives became once their 15 minutes clocked out, the reason this thing is worth watching is to see how times both have and haven’t changed over the course of some thirty-some-odd years. Going into this, I had no idea how sexually sheltered the American public was before this movie (total prudes), had no idea of the political firestorm this caused afterward, and as influential as that short-lived “sexual revolution” was, the strangest thing is that sex is still very much demonized. Yeah, it’s everywhere these days and as long as you’ve got a computer you can even be a porn star yourself, maybe you’ll even get famous, but there’s still a whole lot of idiots out there teaching from an abstinence-only curriculum, too.
Look, rarely do I ever talk about porn with folks. Not that I find it disgusting or immoral or any of those choice SAT words, it just ain’t kosher for conversations is all. But isn’t that so American of me? Bringing up sex with Americans will absolutely make anyone and everyone within earshot break into a cold sweat of sheer terror. It’s like an epidemic over here, something to be feared and shunned rather than celebrated, and as result, it’s not helping anyone. I mean, unless you’re Jim Cameron, you go ahead and put bare boobs in a movie, you just landed yourself a big old R. But substitute that with someone getting their head cut off and chances are you can get away with a family-friendly PG-13.
Alright, getting a little off-topic here, but that’s the stigma and it’s totally fucking backwards.
And that’s the tricky thing about porn: it would break my heart if my kid ever got into the business and I don’t want to endorse it because it’s definitely taken the low road of mindless sex and objectification that will never find itself among the same ranks as non-pornographic Hollywood efforts. But, like sex, the answer isn’t to ignore it because it’s not going away. And it’s easy to write off something like Deep Throat as no different because even though there’s hardly a script, there’s hardly acting and the driving force behind it is to watch this chick live up to the movie’s title, at least it got people talking and I think the country was better off for it.
The tragic thing about it all is that it was ultimately banned and silenced by those in power to the point where there wasn’t even a conversation to be had and it doesn’t seem like a whole lot has changed since in that regard. People are afraid, they think that their kids are gonna walk into health class and then skip Chemistry to go have a gangbang in the locker room, and that’s what happens when fear-mongering starts getting in the way of the bigger picture. What a shame, because the less people talk, the less people know, and the more you tell someone they can’t do something even though the Constitution says they can is just gonna make people do it that much more.
You go over to Europe, the people there talk about sex, they educate their kids, they embrace it so that everyone has the facts and don’t end up learning shit the hard way. And that’s the way it should be, that’s the mature thing to do. Not like anyone ever died from watching porn anyway, and if they somehow did, it was probably their own damn fault.
Sorry for the rant, but it’s a movie that gets you thinking. Might not want to watch this one with the in-laws since it very much lives up to the NC-17 rating and leaves nothing up to the imagination when it comes to the title, but Inside Deep Throat is pretty interesting stuff. Pacing could have been sped up, it’s decently made from film making standpoint, and I was definitely drifting at parts, then again, it’ll get the conversation going again and that’s the whole point.
God, it’s embarrassing how embarrassed we are to talk about sex. At least Salt-n-Pepa knew what was up.
Princess Mononoke (1997)
VERDICT:
9/10 Eyes Unclouded
Unforgivably misleading title for such an outrageously awesome movie.
Princess Mononoke takes place in a feudal Japan where humans live in harmony with the gods and demons that walk the land, that is until a forest deity attacks a village after being poisoned by an iron bullet. Lucky for the villagers, one of their young princes slays that sucker down, but unlucky for the prince, he gets cursed in the process and is subsequently banished by the town elders. So he breaks open his piggy bank, grabs his stash of weapons and hops on his red elk as he searches the countryside looking for the source of the bullet that started all this madness and hopefully find a way to save his life before the curse consumes him entirely.
As for the title, it refers to a mangy girl who was raised by wolf gods that the said prince meets along the way. The weird thing is, her name is San, she’s only referred to as “Princess Mononoke” once in passing, and she’s not the main character. Absolutely no clue as to why this is named after her instead of Prince Ashitaka – our protagonist who happens to have a much cooler name – but as a result, it’s always been an uphill battle trying to convince people that this isn’t just a Disney knockoff, but making that mistake will set you up for one rude awakening.
I, for one, was of the ripe young age of 11. Terrified of girls, you would have needed a crowbar to pull Pokemon (the Blue Version, of course) out of my Game Boy and making sure to catch every last episode of the the said cartoon became a daily ritual after school. Just adorable. Back then, I thought I knew what anime was, but I really had no effing clue. So into the theater I walk, ten minutes go by, and then a guy gets his arms shot clear off with a bow and arrow, only to be followed up by another dude getting decapitated by the same means. Was not expecting that, I’m surprised I could even follow what the hell was going on after that, and I was not ready for the serious lack of sleep I got that week.
Yeah, the whole PG-13 thing was pretty misleading, too, but this isn’t a horror movie, this is an eye-opener.
So this was my first introduction to Hayao Miyazaki, Japan’s pride and joy, an animator who truly deserves to have his head frozen so that future generations can somehow benefit. It’s no surprise that his stuff makes more bank than Avatar in his hometown, ’cause the dude is one master storyteller who sure ain’t copping to all that “cartoons are for kids” bullshit. Make no mistake, this one ain’t for the kiddies.
The animation is gorgeous. The lush backgrounds, the sprawling landscapes, the human characters, the forest spirits, and the vivid imagination that fuels it all are just unreal. Nothing against Disney, nothing against Pixar, but animation like this is rare to find these days and there really is something about good ol’ drawing by hand that you just can’t get from a computer.
But the story is what this is all about. This isn’t big-breasted broads toting eight-foot-long machine guns fighting tentacled robots during World War VI, this is about the relationship between man and nature and what happens when things stop being simpatico. Miyazaki’s not beating us over the head, he’s just pointing out that the relationship seems to have gone quite sour over the years and we humans have gotten awfully used to raping our planet blind without thinking twice about the consequences. These days, that probably sounds awfully familiar, but 13 years ago it was ahead of its time and it definitely wasn’t the kind of morality tale you’d normally find in any movie. It’s a story that’ll make you wince even more whenever someone’s answer for cleaning up the environment boils down to “the next generation can deal with it”, it’s history in a nutshell and it’s as unusually important as it is mature.
And it’s amazing how Miyazaki brings as much life to his non-human characters as he does the ones who walk on two legs. Very complex folks with very complex motivations and backgrounds that are all very relatable even when they’re at different ends of the same spectrum. Easy to pick out the good guys, hard to justify the bad ones, and that’s the way it should be.
And the action scenes are freakin’ awesome. Man, that Ashitaka is a total badass, the shit he can pull off with a cursed arm and a bow and arrow is just bonkers. So, so badass.
A-list cast of voice actors, too. Billy Bob Thornton, Billy Crudup, Claire Danes, Gillian Anderson, Jada Pinkett Smith, Keith David, Minnie Driver, Gandhi, Abe Lincoln, Moses; everyone turned out for this bad boy. Doesn’t make a huge difference in the long run, but I dig it nonetheless.
Also love the score. Just beautiful. Alright, I’ll quit all the gushing.
Look, I love Spirited Away as much as the next guy, but Princess Mononoke gets my vote for best Miyazaki movie. It might not have the charm or heart of Ponyo or My Neighbor Totoro, but this is what got me into anime, this is what got me to graduate from Dragon Ball Z reruns and discover Akira, Ghost in the Shell and all that genuine geekout stuff, and that goes a long way. But aside from the nostalgia factor, it really is an amazing journey, its epic through and through, and it deserves to be measure on the same scale as any live-action movie. Truly something else and one that’ll most likely start changing opinions.
Cut The Crap Movie Reviews 
