Jackie Brown

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Quentin Tarantino's Jackie Brown (1997) is the director's first slip-up. Essentially it is a long movie about a complex con a stewardess pulls off, but it is presented without a punch. A Tarantino film lacking the punch is an utter failure. It's almost as if he tried to hide his unsatisfying dialogue and boring characters under a superficially complex plot. Not even actors like Samuel L. Jackson can bring the characters to life - there is something wrong with the writing.

Even the form falters a little here. It certainly has decent camerawork and good editing, but Tarantino's soundtrack is hit-and-miss - too random this time that it doesn't even fit to the mood at all on some occasions.

And all of this mediocrity goes on for 150 minutes so it's not really tolerable either.

Score: 5 out of 10

Pulp Fiction

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Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction (1994) is often considered the director's best achievement. Four storylines of violence and salvation (most characters are seen in more than one storyline) are combined to one hell of a film. Tarantino's snarky dialogue dominates the two and half an hour running time and some of the film's quirky scenes have become legendary for Tarantino's fans.

Tarantino's writing is really compact and interesting this time. In comparison to Reservoir Dogs the scenes never feel like they go on for too long - although Butch's storyline is initially less impressive than the other ones. There's a huge cast of interesting characters, such as Jules - Samuel L. Jackson's Bible-reciting hitman who faces a miracle - and the Wolf - Harvey Keitel's cool gentleman whose specialty is to solve any sort of problems.

Pulp Fiction's form is also more refined and it is not distracting. Instead it is more successfully intertwined with the content. However, I'm not still a big fan of stylished camerawork for the sake of appearing as "cool". And naturally the soundtrack is marvellous.

Pulp Fiction is certainly the American epitome of coolness and snarkiness, but I don't find it nearly as impressive as the fanboys do.

Score: 9 out of 10

Reservoir Dogs

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Writer/director Quentin Tarantino's directorial debut Reservoir Dogs (1992) features the director's famous trademarks - even though they are still a bit unrefined. Essentially the film is about a group of criminals planning to rob a jewelry store, but the catch is that the heist fails in a terribly bloody way. The movie explores the consequences of the heist as the criminals begin arguing while trying to figure out just why the heist failed.

Tarantino is clever by leaving the heist itself offscreen and he depends on the ambitious narrative to deliver the emotional impact on the viewers (if that doesn't work then the screenplay would have been screwed). Tarantino is known for his masterful dialogue, but Reservoir Dogs doesn't completely deliver in this department. While it might work perfectly sometimes (such as the opening scene) there are times when it's stretched too much or simply too offbeat (dialogue between Orange and White). 

The camera work is also a bit unbalanced. When there's running, shooting or pointing guns involved in the scene Tarantino performs rather well, but during the dialogue-heavy scenes there are a few oddities that are so clearly made for the sake of being stylish. That's offputting. The use of music might feel a bit forced in Reservoir Dogs, but it works rather well in any case.

There are numerous flaws in Reservoir Dogs, but they are rather minor in the end. It is a fascinating crime film that deserves its cult status - even if it is quite overrated due to a mass of enthusiastic teenagers.

Score: 8 out of 10

Violent Cop

Takeshi Kitano's debut film Violent Cop (1989) is one of the most pathetic efforts at making a film I've seen in a while. The screenplay doesn't hold itself together enough well for a proper plot synopsis so I can only say the following. Everyone beats up everyone. Kitano's bad cop is the only properly characterized character - others become a blurry mass of incarnated nihilism upon which Kitano lays his violence. And then the others beat Kitano up, too. It's a mess.

Apart from the massive amount of cop outs, nihilism and clunky storytelling, the film is technically somewhat decent. Kitano's long take aesthetic does feel quite forced here and on some occasions the long takes are simply not justified. Kitano stretches the scenes only for the sake of doing so. I don't want to even write about the terrible soundtrack that is so painfully 80's.

Avoid it unless you are a diehard fan of Kitano. Nihilism for the sake of nihilism never works.

Score: 3 out of 10

Brother

Takeshi Kitano's Brother (2000) has an interesting premise: Kitano mixing yakuza and American organized crime through his deadpan comedy. He plays a notorious Japanese gangster who has to go to USA in order to avoid being killed. There he intends to gain power for his brother's small and pathetic gangster group.

Kitano avoids focusing on the details of how he rises to power and instead focuses on the humor and what comes afterwards. The rougher-than-sandpaper comedy simply does not work here. It is only amusing on a few occasions because Omar Epps is able to lighten up the silly English dialogue. Characters come and go quite chaotically. Sometimes it seems like Kitano is trying to establish an emotional connection with the audience, but he utterly fails because he either lets the humor run wild or the sentimental bits fall apart due to horrendous writing.

Kitano's "offbeat" cinematography and editing work in a satisfying way, but Hisaishi's musical score is awfully used because it does not fit to the dry comical tone at all. Kitano's and Epps' performance are fine, but they are the only actors given proper roles - the other characters are so uncharacterized or distracting that the actors can't do anything to save the script.

Brother could have become a fine film, but Kitano lost himself along the way.

Score: 5 out of 10

A History of Violence

A few years ago, I watched David Cronenberg's A History of Violence (2005) and I did not like it. I decided to give it a new chance today, but my opinion didn't change one bit. This time I know exactly why the film is so disappointing for me. Essentially the film is about Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen), a family man living in a small, comfy town until he kills two criminals and becomes a hero. His sudden fame does not come without a downside: a notorious gangster begins to stalk him. 

The film's writing has a fundamental problem: it doesn't seem to know what it tries to achieve. The film introduces us to a family that is simply too perfect - they live the American dream. This is actually rather alienating instead of involving because the flaws are always more intriguing. The difficulties the family has to face (eventually) become distant due to this alienation. This, in turn, leaves the cold observation as the only solution for the viewer. As a character study, it is devoted but wishy-washy. Beyond that, there isn't much coherency to the film. The final act of the film is even more confusing as it becomes (unintentionally?) comic.

The form is warm and inviting most of the time. Especially the graceful camera movement, luminous lighting and precise compositions make the movie visually marvellous. The soundtrack is a bit generic and occassionally over the top, but in the end it is pleasant. The film's truly redeeming aspect is the acting. Viggo Mortensen's towering performance is almost rivalled by Bello and Harris.

It is sad that the film doesn't achieve anything when its cast is ridiculously talented and spot-on.

Score: 5 out of 10

Goodbye South, Goodbye

There is an easy way to describe Hsiao-hsien Hou's Goodbye South, Goodbye (1996) in a nutshell: it's the Taiwanese Mean Streets combined with Hou's (relatively) calmer form. It follows the struggles of Taiwanese gangsters as they simply try to make a living. If you dig deeper, you could say (as a reviewer on IMDB put it) the film is about "Taiwan's lost generation". The reckless and (nearly) aimless lives of the two main characters are not necessarily involving for the audience, but that doesn't mean the film fails or that it would be boring - because that's the way it was intended.

Even though Hou's form still features long takes and calm pacing, it's clearly a continuation to what he started with Good Men, Good Women. The camera is not static anymore: there's a lot of camera movement, but most of it is so smooth and calm that you don't even notice it at first. Hou captures the energy and mood of the screenplay in a clever way while still maintaining a distance to the characters - especially during the important plot moments. Hou has used music in his earlier films, but this time it's really intrusive (an aggressive rock track) - in a good way, though.

Even though Goodbye South, Goodbye works well in all aspects, it's a lesser effort from the director. It almost seems as if he played safe after using this new "more improvised" form for the first time.

Score: 8 out of 10

Once Upon a Time in America

Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in America (1984) is regarded as one of the most important and brilliant gangster films alongside The Godfather and Goodfellas - and rightfully so. I would actually say that it is the best film made about mafia. Essentially the film is about 5 friends who commit crimes together as kids and the film reveals us how they end up later in life. The film is told in three periods: 1910's, 1930's and the 1970's. This film was Leone's last and it's a great ending for a career - only rivalled by Edward Yang's Yi yi in that regard.

Leone observes the twisted moral values of the main characters - especially how they change over time. He reveals just how corrupt and hideous these characters can be yet he makes them lovable in a peculiar way. The narrative is incredibly dense and even exhausting even though the film has a calm pace. The pace is certainly challenging, but once you get used to it you are rewarded.

The recreation of Brooklyn in those periods is painstakingly authentic - I wonder how they pulled it off so well for so many scenes on such an epic scale. Leone's cinematography is simply a wonder to look at. There weren't a lot of shots that didn't astound me in a way or another. Ennio Morricone's score is brilliant and reminded me a bit of Once Upon a Time in The West - which is only good.

When I saw the film for the first time I wasn't so amazed by it. I guess I watched expecting something else after I had seen Once Upon a Time in The West. However, this time I totally loved it and now I would call it one of the greatest American films I've ever seen.

Score: 10 out of 10

Letters to Father Jaakob

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Now that I've seen all the films Klaus Härö has directed, I can declare that his latest, Letters to Father Jaakob (2009), is his masterpiece. A pardoned convict Leila (Kaarina Hazard) is assigned to help a blind pastor (Heikki Nousianen) with his letters. As the film goes further, both of them have to deal with guilt, loss and even an existential crisis to a certain extent. Härö observes the two main characters carefully and closely. Their hidden complexities are gradually revealed and you can not avoid caring for them by the end of the film. Both of them are only broken souls barely coping, trying to find a way out. Härö's usual sentimentality is very underplayed until the end which is heartbreaking in its magnificence.

The form is refined even in comparison to Härö's earlier films. The cinematography is stunning, the editing is smoother and the music is poignant (a lot less dramatic than the music in his earlier films). The performances by the lead actors are pitch-perfect - even though both of the performances are rather towering, neither dominates the film. 

Letters to Father Jaakob is a vivid film that made me genuinely cry. I consider it the best Finnish film ever made - although that doesn't mean a lot when the film industry is in terrible condition in Finland.

Score: 10 out of 10

Rebels of the Neon God

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Tsai Ming-liang's Rebels of the Neon God (1992) is nothing like the director's other films. There are only two trademarks that can be noticed in his second first film: casting Lee Kang-sheng (and his family) and the metaphoric use of water. The movie portrays Hsiao-Kang's days as a teenager while he faces feelings of alienation and frustration. Tsai also focuses on a rather separate storyline which involes two hoodlums chasing a beautiful girl. While Hsiao-Kang often observes these characters, there is hardly any interaction between the two storylines.

I've read that the film is the perfect depiction of Taiwan at the end of the 80's and the beginning of 90's so I guess that counts as a pro. It examines somewhat decently the dislocation the adolescents feel in the harsh environment. I have to admit it was a bit problematic for me to watch the film because I expected yet another story focused completely on Hsiao-Kang, but the other storyline was even more central than HK's storyline. It was confusing for a while, but it was fitting when I started to think about its relevance for the themes.

Tsai's form is almost completely the opposite when compared to his later films. There are almost no long takes so his editing patterns are largely different. The camera is moving most of the time which gives the film more energy - which is fitting when you realise the film is about the reckless youth. I'm not sure if it was a conscious decision or if Tsai hadn't simply figured out his own unique style yet. Tsai also used music quite a lot - and none of it was old Mandarin pop. The compositions weren't so precise either - there were a few exceptions though.

In overall, Rebels of the Neon God is a bit uneven although it is not a bad effort at all. In fact, Tsai shows hints of his brilliance already at this point, but he doesn't succeed in creating a masterpiece: his form is lacking and the content doesn't feel focused enough.

Score: 7 out of 10

Stray Dog

I'm taking a break from the "Hou marathon" I've been on for a few days. But I'm not making this break easy for me at all for I have decided to rewatch a few films by none other than Akira Kurosawa. The first choice for me was Stray Dog (1949) because when I saw it for the first time years ago I thought it was boring. Oh, how wrong I was back then.

Essentially, Stray Dog is the story of a young cop whose gun is stolen and he tries to get it back by all means necessary. While the film explores the feeling of guilt and paranoia that the cop experiences, it goes far beyond that.

The title, "stray dog", refers to the man who commits crimes with the stolen pistol. As Takashi Shimura's character (who becomes a mentor to the young cop) says, a murderer is like a stray dog: he only sees the road in front of him. Kurosawa's main point seems to be in showing how the World War II has affected the Japanese - especially its influence on upbringing. In the end, the cop and the murderer are almost the same - only different by occupation and one single choice.

There is also an interesting polarisation Kurosawa uses between the young cop and his "mentor". While the young cop strictly believes that evil is the result of negative surroundings, the older cop dismisses that belief outright. "Evilness is purely evil", he says. It is also very interesting to see how the film almost literally explodes into ferociousness in its final act. Kurosawa certainly knows how to build the tension up towards the climax.

Akira Kurosawa's form is also fascinating. His way to place the characters onscreen is powerful. When compared to Yasujiro Ozu, Kurosawa's editing is aggressive. That can especially be noticed when he uses montages which are used quite well actually. Kurosawa wouldn't be Kurosawa without melodrama, and the music is a bit dramatic most of the time, but luckily it is never too distracting. The same thing can be said about acting in his films, but in Stray Dog the melodrama never bothered me. In fact, Toshiro Mifune's melodramatic performance was so great that he even rivalled Takashi Shimura's more restrained performance.

I would strongly recommend Stray Dog to anyone: it's a powerful (even if old-fashioned) thriller that has a lot to say.

Score: 9 out of 10

City of Sadness

As I have been watching Hou Hsiao-hsien's films recently, I've been eagerly waiting for City of Sadness' turn: I had seen it once before and I had a feeling it would become one of my all-time favourites this time. And yes, it had a huge impact on me.

Hou's City of Sadness (1989) is an account of what one Taiwanese family had to cope with before, during and after the infamous 228 incident during which tens of thousands of Taiwanese were killed or they vanished. It was the epitome of the conflict between the Chinese and the Taiwanese in the country - after the Japanese occupation of Taiwan ended in 1947 due to Japan's loss in the World War II. 

It is amazing how Hou makes the film work so seamlessly on personal, social and historical layers. Although you can't separate the three very well because they are so tightly combined together - especially the latter two. It is so heartbreaking to see the family slowly crumble and fall apart - only because of the political reasons. The family had resorted to "crime" during the Japanese occupation to help the district - yet the wanted change only makes things even worse. The characters are helpless under the cruel force of history and politics. 

Even though making Wen-ching (Tony Leung) a deaf character was initially a practical thing (Leung couldnt speak Mandarin or Taiwanese convincingly), his character became a metaphor for Taiwan's situation. It is even more interesting to take a look at the story in that light.

Hou's form is at its best in City of Sadness: that says a damn lot. His use of ellipses works perfectly this time and causes no real confusion either. The most famous example might be the gangster fight of which we only see the outcome: before we even see it begin, the next cut takes us to the final blow. And because of this, the outcome is even more powerful in its brilliant subtlety.

His compositions and framing are simply wonderful to look at. Just take a look at the snapshots placed below the text. His habit of revisiting the same compositions packs a terribly huge punch in City of Sadness. The best example (by far) is the hospital shot (the 4th snapshot) which is repeated at least 6 times during the film.

All of his formal techniques cause this cleverly powerful influence on the viewer. It gets only better the more you watch the film. And it's not only the form: the content is so bittersweet and tragic that it is certainly an unforgettable experience to watch the film. I was deeply touched by its subtle sentimentality and the profound content.

Sadly, I had terrible difficulties in writing this review. I have utterly fallen in love with the film and I'm struggling to share my passion. City of Sadness is one of the greatest films I've EVER seen.

Score: 10 out of 10

Double Review: "Ichi the Killer" and "Visitor Q"

Here's yet another double review for today: two Takashi Miike's films, Visitor Q (2001) and Ichi the Killer (2001). Both of these films are extremely controversial, and especially Ichi the Killer has become known as one of the most disgusting and violent films ever. Ichi the Killer focuses on three central characters. The title character, Ichi, is a mentally damaged young man; Kakihara is an extremely sadistic and masochistic yakuza boss; Kaneko is an ex-cop who has become a criminal. All of these three characters are engaged in a complicated plot that involves a LOT of cartoonish violence and gore. Visitor Q, on the other hand, is a lot rougher. It is the story of an extremely dysfunctional modern family. I wont reveal a lot of details, but I'll warn you by saying this: it touches on almost every possible controversial topics. It involves - for example - incest, necrophilia and lactation.

Ichi the Killer is often misunderstood as glorification of violence, but Miike inteded it as quite the opposite. It has a mixture of cartoonish, horrible CGI and physical, raw gore. The CGI bits will probably have you laughing out loud - and that's what Miike wanted as well. But he skillfully merges it with shocking gore that makes us really ponder why we actually laughed at the violence. It makes fun of exploitation, yet it seems to laugh at itself too. It is a refreshing and brave take on violence. Although it partly seems that Miike enjoys disturbing the audience, Ichi the Killer really does have a strong message. The story is carefully crafted and the characters are well-developed. Even though it is clearly a parody, the dramatic bits work well too and if the screenplay was slightly altered, it could be interpret as a completely serious film. The climax is one of the best I have ever seen - it is simply fascinating. As funny as it may sound, you can also interpret the film as a tragic story. It just happens to include sadomasochism.

Visitor Q is certainly more controversial than Ichi the Killer. At first it seems a lot more serious than Ichi, but in the end it becomes more like a farce. I understood it as a wild and weird exaggeration of modern families. The dad is only focused on his job and not on his family; the mom tries to take care of the family and accepts anything, both good and bad things; the son is very violent, isolated from others and on top of it all, spoiled. But once a mysterious guest enters the house, the family begins to change gradually. There is also a daughter who lives elsewhere and she is a whore. Seriously. It makes a valid point of modern society although it goes so ridiculously over-the-top - but that is luckily on purpose. The last half of Visitor Q erupts so hilariously that I laughed through the last 25 minutes. Although all of these controversial topics reach their culmination points, it is funny as hell. And even more absurd is the effect on the family. At first I thought Visitor Q was going to be a silly and onesided social commentary, but the end made me change my mind because it was so brilliantly farcical.

Ichi the Killer's form is intriguing and a little pulsating. Mostly it has shots that have great compositions, but then there are a few oddities in the editing, like the beginning of the film. Miike uses slowmotion and fastmotion very absurdly, especially the latter. His use of slowmotion in the climax was a little distracting because it reminded me of Snyder at first, but luckily he didnt overuse it. As you might have guessed, every bit of violence is as juicy as possible - to silly extremes. Miike proves himself to be a talented director as well by being able to do that for 2 hours without any problem.

Visitor Q is the opposite of Ichi in form. It has a calm - and sometimes even documentarian - feeling to it. The camera rarely moves and when it moves, it is slow and smooth. Even though there arent significantly long shots in the film, it feels like there arent many cuts because it moves on such a calm pace. When the shit hits the fan - the farce becomes dominant - the camerawork becomes a bit more lively and more interactive. The farcical climax is something everyone should feel although the content is highly disturbing, but is presented in such a great way that it is impossible not to laugh.

Ichi the Killer's acting is fascinating. Even though Kakihara is one of the strangest and most unsympathetic characters ever, Tadanobu Asano makes him so damn interesting and human that I became actively interested on how he developed and what he was going to get next. The same thing goes for Ichi who isnt really anything *that* special as a character. In Visitor Q, Kenichi Endo's performance as the father is so unbelievably towering that I still havent fully recovered from it. He is SENSATIONAL.

If you can stand cartoonish violence and controversy, you should totally watch these films. I insist.

Scores:

Visitor Q (2001): 9 out of 10

Ichi the Killer (2001): 8 out of 10