Avatar (2009)

Stock characters, heavy handed political messages, and ghastly production costs. This is indeed a James Cameron film. I will admit that I genuinely think Titanic was a piece of filmmaking brilliance, and Aliens was pretty good as well, but for me, Cameron's ability to make an interesting movie ends there.

Avatar is essentially Last of the Mohicans, Fern Gully and She's All That, made in Three Dimensions(!!!!). As a technical piece, it is unmatched in its visual spectacle. The movie just looks absurdly good. It's genuinely unsettling how detailed everything about the movie is.

At least everything about the movie that doesn't relate to characters or story. Other than the final battle scene, and just the general look of the film, there is really no redeeming quality to the movie.

The characters are characters you've seen from the last action movie you saw. They deliver the lines they are supposed to and either succeed or die in the end, though it's clear who does what. I cringed when the main character had to give his heart to heart to his lady interest that it only started out as a job, but he really was in love, with all the syrupy Freddie Prince Jr. sweetness he could muster.

I can't say I wouldn't recommend this movie, because it was a treat for my eyes. But paying $10 or whatever IMAX is charging to see it only encourages directors to keep producing these kinds of dull experiments in spending as much money as possible. And seeing as I paid to see this and Transformers II this year, I have more than done my part to make this world a slightly worse place, and for that, I apologize.

Sherlock Holmes (2009)

I loved Iron Man. Everyone loved Iron Man. So when I first saw a preview for the new Sherlock Holmes film, I thought, "Victorian Iron Man? Someone has been reading my book of dreams." This, of course, is not true as my book of dreams has long since been destroyed.

However, Sherlock Holmes is only the second film I've seen, other than Gone With The Wind, where I actually tried to fall asleep. My inability suggests more about my caffeine addiction than the viewing experience, as reading the back cover of my roommate's Iron Man DVD for an hour and a half would probably prove more exciting than watching Sherlock Holmes.

There really wasn't anything absolutely awful about the film, it's just that I had seen it already, and so have you. The movie is an explosion filled paint-by-numbers piece, which is odd since I always thought Holmes was more of a sleuthy type character. I must admit that I've never read any of Doyle's work, but I would have to assume this was nowhere near what he was writing about.

Robert Downey Jr is the one saving grace of the film, but even his performance was utterly disappointing. The man is not British, and when he fakes a British accent, half of his lines are unintelligible. The film was an attempt at the witty action film with heart (yeah, that's still you Iron Man), but fails miserably at this. The one or two laugh out loud moments are already in the previews, and the rest is just a matter of banal, CSI style crime investigation. But really, I went to this to get out of seeing Avatar, because if I'm going to be bored, I'd rather be bored for about an hour less. So I guess I can't complain.

Antichrist (2009)

Nature is Satan's church. Freud is dead. This is Antichrist, Lars von Trier's shocking horror film dedicated to the memory of Russian auteur Andrei Tarkovsky.

The film starts with a horrifically beautiful sex/death scene where the two main characters, played superbly by Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg engage in the sensual joys (and unlike most every film that isn't a porno, the sex scenes in Antichrist are unsimulated) while their son falls out of their apartment window. The film then follows the mother's grief while her husband, a therapist, tries to help her face her fears while keeping a clinical distance from his own wife.

The first half hour or so of the film is undoubtedly dark and depressing, illustrating the unrelenting grief felt by Gainsbourg's character, but it isn't until the couple gets to their woodland cabin, "Eden", that the film really asserts itself. Modeled after settings in Tarkovsky's autobiographic film The Mirror and his sci-fi masterpiece Stalker, Eden is the location for the films unbearably haunting second half.

I remember there being a big to-do about the graphic violence depicted in Mel Gibson's awful Passion of the Christ, but that film is tame by von Trier's standards. I'm not the kind of person that typically reacts physically to films, but in various parts of Antichrist, I came close to vomiting and crying. I spent entire scenes hiding behind my hands or staring at the wall to the left of the screen. And honestly, I kind of want to watch it again.

Asking whether or not the extreme violence and sexual content is necessary is certainly valid, and in this case, I believe that it is. I can't say I know what von Trier's intent with the film was, but if he set out to make a horror film, that's exactly what he did. I don't ever go to the theater to see horror films, but I can easily say that Antichrist is the kind of horror film that will stick with me for a long time. It isn't for the scenes of violence either, those are just garnishes to the actual horror that's happening between the two lead characters. Antichrist is little more than a remake of Bergman's Persona, drenched in blood from Willem Dafoe's penis.

My one complaint with the film was the computer graphics. I haven't seen any of von Trier's other films, so I don't know if it's typical of his work, but there was quite a bit of CGI in this film. It never looks bad, honestly, it just doesn't seem to fit in with the realism of the characters' struggles at the beginning of the movie.

I would highly recommend this film to anyone and everyone, assuming you can handle the numerous graphic scenes.

Once (2006)

I like Nick Cave a lot. In the last few months, The Bad Seeds have been in my CD player more than any other band, simply because their music is really, really good. I would consider myself a fan of Nick Cave, absolutely. However, I would never think to make a film based mostly on his music. Even if I introduce a few characters (perhaps a charming female lead?), the story would still undoubtedly be lacking, and the quality of the film would depend entirely on how much the viewer likes Nick Cave's music. Using his music for emphasis would be fine (Wings of Desire now available on Blu Ray!), but as a central theme? No thank you.

It is for this reason that beloved indie musical Once is pretty terrible. Take one part street crooner, one part attractive street vendor, add some agreeable, though otherwise unremarkable tunes, and you have a movie about a street crooner, an attractive street vendor and some agreeable, though otherwise unremarkable tunes.

The main character of the film is really the music. Like I said already, the music is far from bad, I might even listen to the soundtrack once in a while if I had it. But I'm not so enraptured by it that I would ever want to see a movie about it. The scenes in the film are really just written around the music, finding ways to allow the flat personalities to interact. Through song.

To its credit, Once is delightfully unpretentious. I don't think I've ever seen a movie so ready to present itself so matter-of-fact, just kind of hoping people would like it, without really expecting much from the audience. At the same time, I think a little pretension is needed. It's a film after all, trying to pretend the camera and crew aren't there and the film is merely happening is as hokey as an Ansel Adams photograph (note: Ansel Adams is just about the greatest photographer ever, but goddamn are his pictures painfully romanticized). Unlike another recent, awful musical, Across The Universe, Once really has nothing going for it outside the music. At least that film had a few neat music videos hidden among 2 hours of poor film-making. Once, on the other hand, feels as though it wasn't even directed, but merely occurred and was documented.

Also, the movie has a really dumb poster.

Satantango (1994)

I don't want to stress the length of Satantango too much in this review, so I think I'll just get it out of the way to begin with: 450 minutes . I'm unfortunately a bit impatient with movies, which surprises people a lot, so I had to split my viewing into three days, a day for each disk of the film. This undoubtedly takes away from the experience; Bela Tarr's films aren't so much about story as they are about mood. However, he is peerless when it comes to transporting the viewer to a different place, so it's almost eerie how I got sucked in after taking a day or two in between disks without missing a beat.

The basic plot of Satantango follows the arrival of a charismatic local who was previously believed to have died during an unnamed war that's pressing closer to the small, rural town. He convinces the farmers to create an agricultural society in exchange for their yearly wages. That's really the meat of the story. Like I said, Tarr's films aren't ever that focused on plot.

Tarr's moods are heart-breakingly entrancing. In more than one instance, the camera follows characters walking for what must be at least 5 minutes without any cutting. Tarr works only in long shots. Supposedly, there are a grand total of 150 shots in the entire film. That means an average shot length of 3 minutes, in case you were wondering but too lazy to calculate.

I find it interesting to compare Tarr's style with that of Gus van Sant, who's film Elephant also featured a number of lengthy shots of characters walking. However, where Tarr's scenes actually add to the atmosphere of the film, van Sant's serve only to remind us of how bland high school hallways are (I really, really hate Elephant. It's currently tied with Reservoir Dogs on my list of movies I never, ever want to see again).

The film is divided into a number of different sections, each focusing predominantly on a single character. Like Reservoir Dogs, the viewer sees the same actions happen numerous times from different perspectives, but unlike Tarantino's film, these scenes don't do much for the plot, they just strengthen the characters by adding significant amounts of depth. I'll admit that I'm entirely biased and think that Tarantino is incapable of making a good film, so I should probably stop using him as an example to explain movies I like.

In these character vignettes, all the motives and actions of the characters are explained and examined. No character is quite as interesting as the doctor, who writes down the activities of the locals in small notebooks. The doctor is morbidly obese, making it ironic that the only character capable of observing life is the most incapable of actually living it.

Satantango is undoubtedly the most complex film I've seen since Inland Empire. Tarr does a very good job mixing a sense of humor that's darker than a moonless midnight with scenes that will actually make you feel really, really uncomfortable. No scene accomplishes this more than one chapter (Those Coming Unstitched, I believe). For about 20 minutes, the viewer is subjected to a hooker's daughter forcing her pet cat to bend to her will, having nothing else that she can physically dominate in her environment. If Tarr hasn't received any PETA death threats for this scene, I'd be amazed. With that said, I'm not sure there's any better filmed segments in the entire film.

I'm sure the length of the film will turn off most viewers, but I must assure anyone interested that the film doesn't drag (unless you simply cannot stand his ultra-slow style of filmmaking). I can remember a grand total of 3 shots in the entire film that I feel should have been shortened or omitted. Even with heavy editing, I can't imagine making this film under 6 and a half hours long.

As a final statement, I have to admit that despite its lofty ambitions, its flawless presentation and its incredible atmosphere, I would recommend his follow up film Werckmeister Harmonies over Satantango. Two great films, but Werckmeister just has something special that I can't figure out (it might be a rotting whale corpse).

New Reviews Coming Soooooon

I've been bad about updating this lately, but hopefully I'll have a review of Bela Tarr's Satantango up soon, at least as soon as I finish it. Until then, enjoy the opening scene/possibly my favorite shot in any movie ever from Bela Tarr's followup to Satantango (and one of my alltime favorite films) Werckmeister Harmonies.

Antoine Doinel (1959, 1968, 1970, 1979)

Francois Truffaut helped spark one of cinemas greatest movements in 1959 with the release of Les quatre cents coups (The 400 Blows), heralding the start of the French New Wave. A semi-autobiographical tale, The 400 Blows tells the story of 12 year old Antoine Doinel, a trouble making preteen who runs amok in Paris. Not intended as the beginning of a series, The 400 Blows eventually sparked 3 feature length sequels, and one short film. Enough has undoubtedly been said about The 400 Blows, astoundingly good for being Truffaut's debut feature (though arguably topped by his colleague and friend, Jean-Luc Godard the next year with the release of A bout de souffle). However, for those new to the film (as I was just a few months back), it's absolutely require viewing for anyone interested in world cinema.

Starting with Baisers voles (Stolen Kisses) in 1968, the second feature length and third overall film in the series, Truffaut expanded upon Doinel's character, giving more control to the unbelievably charismatic lead, Jean-Pierre Leaud. Whereas The 400 Blows was fairly serious, Stolen Kisses is really, really funny. While 400 is undoubtedly the masterpiece of the series (and one of the greatest films ever, really), I actually prefer the later, lighter films. Leaud's comic acting is undoubtedly the cause of this.

Stolen Kisses, Domicile conjugal (Bed and Board) (1970), and L'amour en fuite (Love on the Run) (1979) shift the focus from the childhood rebellion of The 400 Blows to telling of Antoine's various love affairs throughout his life and his bizarre, constantly changing occupations. The real treat of the series is the cast, which stays the same for every movie. By Love on the Run, Leaud is 20 years older than he was during the filming of The 400 Blows. The viewer really gets to see the actors growing up, which is delightful. Unfortunately, Truffaut noticed this too, and made Love on the Run into a scrapbook of memories rather than a movie. About half of the film is flashbacks, which means scenes from other films in the series. This could be done interesting and well, but as even Truffaut would admit, he failed in this regard. Still, the material that is new is just as good as the previous films.

I think the Antoine Doinel series, available as a box set from Criterion, has to be my favorite film series. Truffaut's scripts are phenomenal, from the scenes of a family struggling to stay together in The 400 Blows to the scenes of Antoine bouncing around from job to job in the later films. The real treat has to be Leaud's acting, which was also put to good measure in a number of Godard's films. I can't tell if he's a great actor or just plays characters close to his own personality, but he's a lot of fun to watch. I would probably recommend The 400 Blows only to people interested in foreign classics, but I can't imagine many people disliking Stolen Kisses or Bed and Board.

Uzak (Distant) (2002)

As an aspiring filmmaker that lacks any especially spectacular ideas for films, movies like the Turkish Uzak are inspirational. To put it simply, Uzak is just about people being people. Granted, these people are painfully lonely, but no scene in the film feels out of place from a normal day. This is the least cinematic film I've ever seen.

By no means am I suggesting that it's bad. In fact, I think Uzak will make my eventual list of the best films I've seen from this century. However, the subject matter is wonderfully banal. It was filmed exquisitely, and is one of the more beautiful films I've seen in a while. By calling it uncinematic, I simply mean that nothing in the movie seems to fit the usual mold of what people make movies about.

The movie follows to characters in Istanbul, one an established photographer in the town, the other a friend from a village coming to find work. Long scenes show the two characters watching TV, eating alone at a restaurant or simply walking around snowy Istanbul. Their solitary existence is all too easy to relate to (though the shots of the characters walking through parks and only seeing happy couples at play was a bit heavy-handed). Granted, they are fond of following attractive women around, but minus their occasional creepy habits, the characters seem like people you probably know, or even people who write rarely read movie review blogs.

Like a number of movies I've written about, I can safely say that this is not a film for everybody. Nothing really happens. Not to say there is no story, but to reiterate, the film is uncinematic and there are no twists, no major plot points, nothing common place in most films. This feels almost like the work of a director unfamiliar with movies. Rather than making a movie about movies, as most movies seem to be, Uzak is really a portrayal of the actual banality of existence.

Revolutionary Road (2008)

Some months ago, a friend and I headed to the theater to go see Revolutionary Road. I can't remember why exactly, but we somehow showed up about half an hour late to the theater, and instead settled on the utterly mindless Underworld prequel (never mind the fact that I hated the first one). Having come at a stressful week in school, this was a welcome vacation for my brain. Very few things require less thought than a movie made by a former special effects coordinator about a war between vampires and werewolves, even if the main werewolf had just recently been absolutely amazing in the movie that probably should have won best picture at last year's Oscars, Frost/Nixon.

Fast forward a few months, and I'm sad to report, that delay in arriving to the theater was something of a blessing. I'm sure if I was some sort of movie journalist, I would lose my job for saying this, but Underworld was monumentally better than Revolutionary Road.

I simply cannot understand A) how this movie got good reviews, and B) how Kate Winslet won any awards for her performance. She's one of my favorite actors currently working (as evidenced by the giant Eternal Sunshine poster of her face on my wall), but she, as well as DiCaprio, do a lot more play acting than film acting. None of their movements, none of their lines, none of their interactions look like anything two people would actually ever do. They look like they are acting; the movie feels too much like its a movie. The acting is very, very stiff (when the two leads aren't overacting), and the dialog is often perplexingly bad (for example, during an argument on the beach, DiCaprio ends it by taking off his shirt saying something to the effect of "It's too hot for this, I need to get wet").

Mediocre performances aside (I still cannot wrap my head around how Winslet got nominated and won awards, I just can't do it), director Sam Mendes ruins what I assume is a pretty good novel. The film basically tells the story of a couple achieving the American dream and discovering that the status quo isn't actually fulfilling, as their marriage quickly falls to pieces. Where there any other revelations or themes anywhere in the entire movie, maybe this film would have a chance to be something special. But no, Mendes lingers on the one, earth-shattering realization that living in the suburbs isn't the dream everyone is chasing. I'm 21, never been anywhere close to marriage, and these ideas seem all too obvious to me, yet Mendes presents them as though the audience would never have considered them before.

And that makes me wonder, are the people watching Revolutionary Road as slow to understanding as the characters? I think Mendes' intention was to be, well revolutionary, and shake up a few minds to realize that maybe they aren't living the way they want to live. But if they need a movie to point this out to them, a shallow, dull movie, I suppose they deserve their shallow, dull lives (I however, quite like my shallow, dull life, and wouldn't trade it for the world).

Sånger Från Andra Våningen (Songs From The Second Floor) (2000)

It's safe to say I have a thing for Swedish films. I assume this is only because Norway's cinema doesn't have the same worldwide renown (though I am eagerly awaiting O'Horten to finally come to a goddamn theater near me). There's just something about really cold people in films that really speaks to me, apparently (this might explain why I also like Canadian Bacon). But I think Sweden is special. Like France, which just has that unique, French quality, Swedish films seem to thrive by being so Swedish.

Songs From The Second Floor is very Swedish. The movie moves at the current walking speed of Ingmar Bergman (hint: he's been dead for 2 years), I don't think there is a single camera movement in the entire film, and everything about it is bleak. It's also remarkably funny. I'm not sure I would go so far as to call this movie a black comedy, but I think that would be a fairly good description.

The movie is something of a modern dystopia. The economic scene in Sweden is less than favorable and everyone is trying to leave the unnamed location of the film without any explanation.

What really makes this movie special is the complete surreal world director Roy Andersson creates. The sets look real enough that you could not notice how much of the film was shot in studios (I'm guessing almost all of it), yet the backgrounds also look like muted stock from Edward Hopper paintings. This film really brings to mind the outrageous spirit of Spanish auteur Luis Bunuel, with a reserved Swedish delivery. Additionally, these sets are supported by the bizarre happenings of the film, which range from an unexplained fire to a human sacrifice, all within an enclosed, corporate world.

Definitely not a movie for the impatient viewer, Songs presents a lot of potential frustration if not seen in the right mood. The humor is delivered in deadpan stares, similar to a Wes Anderson or Jim Jarmusch affair. To give you an idea of possible reactions to this film, I heard of it when two classmates were discussing it in my Norwegian class, having seen it in their Scandinavian film class. One student asked the other "You actually liked that movie?" Similarly, while I laughed quite loud throughout quite a bit of the movie, my mother who was watching with me, fell asleep a number of times during the films duration. It's one of the few movies I've seen recently that I was sad to see end, but for some, I'm sure the hour and a half run time seems closer to an eternity.

Adam (2009)

I remember seeing a trailer for Lars and the Real Girl a few years back and thinking, "that looks fantastically bad", though I had a secret hope that it would somehow be excellent. I was eventually talked into seeing it, and truth be told, I nearly cried during it. It's an absolutely phenomenal film about a guy who just doesn't understand human interaction. As someone with some anxiety issues, I can certainly relate, though not on the same scale of course, and I felt quite touched by the inevitable happy ending. When I read the synopsis of Adam, Max Mayer's second film according to imdb, I thought to myself "this looks like Lars with Aspergers".

And it was. Just not as good. Adam has Aspergers. Adam also has a gorgeous neighbor (Rose Byrne), who wants to help him like the pilot helps the Little Prince in the fantastic story of the same name, as mentioned in the opening narration. Unfortunately for Adam, he's stuck both in his head and in a formulaic romantic comedy (amusingly, Hugh Dancy, the lead actor, didn't realize this until late in the shooting).

As a result, you know when you sit down what is going to happen. You know that Byrne's character is going to fall for Adam's quirks, and you know when Adam just isn't going to understand the situation and fly off the handle. You know how the film ends already (well, you can narrow it down to a few possible choices). With all that said, I enjoyed Adam.

Similar to a movie like Once, Adam is joyfully unpretentious. Unlike Once, there is actually some content to the movie to make it worth watching other than the delightful leads. Also unlike Once, I would actually recommend this movie to other people. The central issues of the film seem important to the director, and his sincerity more than makes up for the shortcomings of the production. And even when some holes are too big to be covered up, there are absolutely fantastic performances on display by the two leads, as well as Adam's lone friend and the films main source of humor, Harlan.

I would ultimately say that this isn't a film that really needs to be seen in theaters. Just wait a few months for it to be a 99 cent rental at Blockbuster, and enjoy it for its successes. Ideally though, you could just rent Lars and the Real Girl instead.

4 luni, 3 săptămâni şi 2 zile (4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days) (2007)

I could simply tell you, dear reader, that 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (winner of the prestigious Palme d'Or at Cannes in 2007) is the best film you will ever see about the subject of abortion set in communist Romania, or, I could simply tell you it's one of the best movies you will ever see.

This film is kind of like a realistic horror movie, where issues that real people might actually encounter provide the fear, as opposed to masked, chainsaw wielding camp counselors/aliens/masked, chainsaw wielding aliens. It's among the most intense films I've ever seen. What makes it so insanely nerve racking is the hyper-realistic approach the director takes in telling this story. I wouldn't say it was done in a documentary style by any means, but it was shot in a way that I haven't really seen before. Numerous scenes consist of only one or two very long takes where the characters have entire conversations, generally not relating to the story at hand, for example, a scene at a dinner table where the camera focuses in only on the main character and her boyfriend while his family is having a full conversation around them. We really get a sense of their discomfort, which quickly becomes our own. The director hasn't said that these two people are unhappy, he is showing us.

To call this simply a movie about abortion would be highly misleading. That would be like calling Let The Right One In a vampire movie. Yes, vampirism was crucial to the story, but no, that's not what that film was about. Similarly, abortion works works as a synecdoche for the oppressive constraints during Romania's time under communist rule. Evidence to the fact that abortion isn't the main issue of the film is the simple observation that the character getting the abortion isn't even the main character.

If I had to give a concise description of this film, I would describe it as a film with the beauty of the later works of Krzysztof Kieslowski with the tense horror of a Michael Haneke film. It's a horror film based entirely in reality. The superb acting and astounding camera work help make this among the best films I've seen from this entire decade (right now I'm thinking it's second only to There Will Be Blood).

Hannah And Her Sisters (1986)

I rented this knowing very little about it, other than it was a Woody Allen movie that had been nominated for Best Picture. Knowing that it was one of Woody Allen's good movies was enough to make me want to watch it, but I had expected it to be something of a comedy. It definitely has its laugh out loud moments, but to my surprise, it is so much more than that. I am tempted to call this my favorite Woody Allen film, though it would definitely be hard to put it over Manhattan, which is damn near perfect.

What this film has that I don't see in Annie Hall or Manhattan is maturity. Those movies are a little bit more about middle-age relationships, while Hannah deals almost exclusively with marriage and family. Also, this film has one thing that no other Woody Allen film has, Max von Sydow.

Allen casts Sydow as a brooding, misanthropic artist. It's a fairly minor role, but it's one of a number of great performances that make the film excellent beyond its already wonderful script. Michael Caine really steals the movie as the alduterous husband of Hannah, played touchingly by Mia Farrow. Woody Allen also turns in a good performance as a TV writer struggling with the possibility of death.

His existential crisis plays alongside Caine's regret and infidelity, similarly to the structure of one of Allen's other great films Crimes and Misdemeanors, where Allen, a documentary director questioning his integrity as an artist, has his story compared with the much darker story of a man driven to murder. I was at a baseball game tonight thinking about the final scene of that movie, and I felt absolutely crushed (but not for too long, as the Diamondbacks were about to beat the Dodgers).

Allen's character is largely superfluous, but adds themes and tangents that the film would be missing without it. His part in the movie is almost like Woody Allen deciding to direct his own Seventh Seal, playing out his fear of death on the screen just as Bergman did in his classic film (that would make sense as to why this of all his films, was the one that he cast von Sydow).

The more I think about it, the more I consider it among the best films I've ever seen. I would definitely need to see it again before being too sure about my thoughts on it, but it is absolutely a must see for fans of Woody Allen, or just anyone looking for a good movie. And if nothing else, you'll do a double take the first time you realize that Carrie Fisher actually exists outside of Star Wars.

Kárhozat (Damnation) (1988)

Damnation is as well filmed a movie as I've ever seen. This is the first movie I've seen by Hungarian director Béla Tarr, and likely not the last.

The film begins with what could very well be my favorite opening shot ever, showing what appears to be a ski lift, only for the camera to very, very slowly zoom out and reveal an interior space inhabited by the films characters (having seen this a few weeks ago, I can't actually remember who shows up in the first scene, but that probably isn't important).

Not too far into the movie is a musical scene reminiscent of some of David Lynch's greatest work (think of the musical numbers in Eraserhead or Mulholland Drive); it's absolutely hypnotizing. I remember thinking while watching, I hope this song never ends.

That, in itself, is an apt description of the film. It's pace, which may be considered slow by a snail with a limp, helps provide a mesmerizing feeling. I got completely lost in this film, at certain points I completely forgot that I was even watching a movie.

The story in Damnation is pretty minimal. The protagonist struggles with sanity as he tries to rekindle a past romance with an unwilling female, portrayed here rather hauntingly. The protagonist finds a way to get the woman's husband to leave town as he makes attempts to reconnect with her, and the film progresses from there to the final, depressing outcome.

This movie may require a bit of patience for most viewers. It's not too long of a movie, but it certainly doesn't fly by. Certainly a movie I need to see again, and one you should see for the first time, dear reader (assuming you exist)!

Русский ковчег (Russian Ark) (2002)

Rarely have I ever been so unsure of what to think of a movie as I have with this. I just finished watching it, and I'll likely have to force myself to watch it again before making any final decisions.

Russian Ark, if nothing else, is a technical masterpiece of cinema. The film consists of one shot lasting more than an hour and a half, with a cast of thousands. The entire film is shot in a St. Petersburg museum (formerly the czar's winter palace). The movie serves largely as a museum tour, as well as a tour through a few centuries of Russian history.

Unfortunately, my knowledge of Russian history is limited primarily to the 20th century, and even there it's iffy. While I had no clue what the characters were discussing for most of the film, it's still a wonder to watch. There is a definite dream-like quality to the work.

There really is no plot to speak of. The narrative structure of the film begins with a narrator discussing an accident, and suddenly we are transported to Russia where 19th century party guests arrive at the museum. The camera serves as the eyes of the narrator, who is only seen by another mysterious traveler, an Italian, who in various scenes goes as unnoticed as the narrator.

The two travel through the museum, each room is a different, non-chronologically ordered period of Russian history. They discuss the Russian people, art, music and politics. All the while, the Italian lumbers about in the creepiest way possible, cornering helpless museum visitors and discussing Christianity with them.

The final "scene" is a magnificently filmed ballroom scene and a long procession down some lovely staircases and hallways with literally hundreds of extras all around. Again, this film is an absolute wonder to witness. I was nervous every time the cameraman had to go up and down stairs, with an irrational fear that he may trip at some point.

As a whole, I think I can safely recommend this film not just simply for its technical genius. It does move quite slowly at times; a great many scenes in the middle of the film consist largely of discussing certain aspects of paintings and who purchased them from who, but there is definitely enough interest to make you want to watch it until the end. Maybe after watching this I'll have the ambition to attempt to watch Bela Tarr's 7+ hour Sátántangó, which, according to Wikipedia, contains only around 150 shots for the entire work. Attempt is the key word there.

(500) Days of Summer (2009)

Like ever other sensible guy (and some sensible girls), I have a crush on Zoey Deschanel, so being able to see her in a movie that doesn't star Will Ferrel, Mark Wahlberg or Matthew McConaughey is exciting. Ok, I'll admit to enjoying Elf, and Will Ferrel did great in Winter Passing, but being in a Wahlberg movie is inexcusable.

As usual, Deschanel's usual, robotic, loveless facade is on display in its full glory. The film follows the relationship she has with former 3rd Rock From the Sun actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who has been in a few critically acclaimed indie flix I need to see, but loses points for being in the new GI Joe movie. Again, inexcusable.

The film's format is one of its best strengths. Rather than chronologically, the story bounces back between Gordon-Leavitt's character meeting Summer, the period of their relationship, and then his life following being dumped. What makes the film extra interesting is that it's told completely from his point of view. There is only one shot that I remember of Deschanel's character in the film when Gordon-Levitt isn't present, and that shot is the only thing in the entire film that bothered me.

Unlike most romantic comedies, this one is good. The humor is frequent and clever and the characters are engaging, likable and it's easy to relate to them (sometimes too easy, depending on your dating history). Rather than relying on the simple fact that it's not a typical film of the genre (the opening narration tells us that it is "not a love story"), the film really tells a wonderful story that ends happily in the least cheesy way possible (well, the final joke is incredibly cheesy, but provides a big laugh before the final credits). Of all the movies I've seen this year, this is the only one I will probably see again before it's out of theaters.

As an aside, my favorite scene in the film takes place when a heartbroken Levitt heads to theater. We see clips from 3 different films, and, much to my excitement, 2 of them are blatant Bergman references. This was already the best romantic comedy I have seen in an awfully long time, but adding a Persona and Seventh Seal reference just made it that much better.

Also, unlike similarly hip romantic comedies (coughgardenstatecough), this movie doesn't exist primarily as a vehicle for its soundtrack. Sure, the Regina Spektor song at the beginning is pretty noticeable (and wonderful), and the first conversation the two main characters have is about The Shins, and Levitt seems to only own Joy Division and Clash shirts, but after about 15 minutes, the director stops trying to portray them as painfully cool people. So, good for you, Mr. Director.

Whatever Works (2009)

Woody Allen's new comedy is not a good movie. Plain and simple. The script is sloppy, the timing seems off, the acting is stiff and unbelievable. That aside, I really enjoyed seeing it.

Taken from a script he supposedly wrote in the 70s, the film is about New York misanthrope Boris Yelnikoff. Boris, played by Larry David (who's done a bunch of stuff I've never seen, or seen very little of like being a writer for Seinfeld), is the obvious "Woody Allen" character. He's neurotic, cynical and brilliant (a fact pointed out frequently by Evan Rachel Wood's nearly brain-dead character). He seems like a very funny actor, but he simply forces the lines and gestures in an uncomfortable way. Luckily, this never actually is a problem, as in the opening sequence, Boris makes it known that he's in a movie by directly addressing the audience and talking to the other characters about us. It's very nice of him to notice us there.

None of the characters are especially believable. Wood, the other lead, plays a southern runaway who stays with Boris, initially against his wishes. Her character is as dumb as an especially dull rock; a direct contrast with Boris, a former Columbia professor of quantum physics. Clearly, love is in the air between these two.

I could go on about what made this movie so bad, but simply put, it's very enjoyable. The one-liners are constant and witty, and even though Allen has even pilfered old jokes from himself (at one point Boris sarcastically claims to play for the Yankees, only to constantly correct Wood's character whenever she mentions his former athletic career, in the same way that Woody Allen's character has to continually assert that he never played in the philharmonic, as his character in Take The Money And Run claimed when first meeting the love of his life), the film succeeds as being good fun. Anyway, with the weather the way that it is right now, you really shouldn't need an excuse to sit in a cool, air-conditioned theater.

Highball (2000)

Just a mere 5 years before Noah Baumbach released the amazing, touching, funny Squid and the Whale (2005), he wrote and directed a comedy of manners called Highball. The next words on this page will discuss this particular film, though some words may appear that talk about other subjects. You are advised not to trust those particular words.

For reasons I don't understand, Baumbach directed Highball under the name Ernie Fusco, and credited the script to Jesse Carter. In fact, the only credit he took in the production was for a birthday song that appears at various points in the film, including the credits, with the amazingly creative lyrics, "Everybody Felix/It's Felix's Birthday!".

The movie is split into three parts, each being a different dinner party. Most of the characters appear in all three parties, separated over a few month period. There really is very little to say about the plot, it's delightfully absent for the first part. For example, Felix, probably the funniest character in the film, is inexplicably comatose in the final party, and the characters only hint at his condition. For some reason, this makes the entire scene that much more amusing.

This movie simply has one of the funnier scripts I've ever seen. By eschewing any basic elements of plot and story, the film instead focuses on the characters' interactions with each other, which always end in laughs. Highly recommended for someone in need of a good, silly comedy. Here is a scene from the first dinner party, a birthday party for Felix, as well as the ending credits featuring the aforementioned song:

Det sjunde inseglet (1957)

I chose the the address of this site (and my iPod, which replaced my old iPod, which I had given the much better name of Thelonious Crunk) in reference to Max von Sydow's character in Ingmar Bergman's 1957 art-house classic, Det sjunde inseglet (The Seventh Seal). The story is pretty well known, a knight returning from the crusades, demoralized and wavering in his faith in God and Jesus (who von Sydow would actually go on to portray less than a decade later in The Greatest Story Ever Told) meets death on a beach and challenges him to a game of chess to give him time to search for answers and perform one final good deed.

As Bergman's most well known film, The Seventh Seal seems to carry with it the weight of all the perceptions of the Swedish auteur's prodigious output (totaling over 60 films during his career). As such, the film is often thought of as dour and depressing. What could be more depressing than a film whose theme so involves death that it was even given a starring role? However, viewing this as an exercise in anxiety and depression will be entirely fruitless.

For one, von Sydow's knight only became an important character well after the original screenplay (a play he had written called Wood Painting) had been conceived. A great deal of the film is instead focused on Jof, the actor, and his family and von Sydow's squire played by Bergman regular, Gunnar Björnstrand. These characters are given extremely funny, witty lines to contrast the painfully Scandinavian sternness portrayed by von Sydow.

Also interesting to note is the films unusually optimistic ending. Whereas many of Bergman's films end in the most depressing ways imaginable (think of what happens to Alexander at the end of Fanny och Alexander, for example), Bergman gives us a glimmer of hope. Jof's family becomes a symbol of love, an element often missing in Bergman's work.

This was my introduction to Ingmar Bergman, and in all honesty, left me somewhat uninterested. I was profoundly interested in the scenes of the knight, having recently denounced my Catholic upbringing shortly before viewing the film. But it wasn't until I recently reassessed the film, after seeing some 20 or so Bergman films, that I understood why it's so revered. Unlike some of his masterpieces from the late 60s, particularly Skammen (1968), Vargtimmen (1968) and En Passion (1969), the Seventh Seal perfectly connects the brilliant humor of some of his earlier films with the dark, philosophical questions that he would eventually become known for. Overall, I've come to love this film, though I would consider it simply as one of Bergman's first masterpieces. I feel he made much better films, but given its historical importance and its own qualities, this is a must see for any fan of film.