Silence

It is not easy to summarize Masahiro Shinoda's Silence (1971). In a way it's like Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1957) if it was set in the 17th century Japan. But that would be a misleading comparison for multiple reasons.

First of all, Silence is not expressionistic at all. Secondly, it is not only about the "silence of God" because Shinoda makes the most of Endo's original novel which criticizes Japan and organized religion as well as exploring a cultural conflict vividly. How does he do that? By telling a story of two Portuguese Catholic priests sneaking into Japan to guide the Japanese Christians in secret, which leads to a long and gruesome aftermath. One might wonder if Shinoda can keep it all together coherently within a single film. He surely manages to do that: the writing is surprisingly fluid in all aspects.

However, the form is not perfect. The jaw-dropping cinematography and powerful editing work well with Takemitsu's musical score, but there are a few irritating inconsistencies. The lighting is odd in the early scenes and the worst offender is the English dialogue. It is written well, but the British actors stumble with it terribly. And it doesn't help a lot when it hasn't even been recorded well. This is a problem when English is used for a third (if not more) of the entire dialogue of the film.

Silence could have become the ultimate clusterfuck of religion, culture and faith if it the glaring flaw had been polished to be less noticable.

Score: 9 out of 10

Special Write-up: LOST

This "review" is spoiler-free until the point I add the actual spoiler warning.

ABC's TV show Lost began airing in 2004. My first glimpse of the show was in 2005 when its pilot was aired on Finnish TV for the first time. Its premise was interesting enough for me: a bunch of castaways being stuck on a mysterious island that kept revealing new secrets all the time. I found interesting characters and the flashbacks to their background stories made the show a particularly rich experience. Lost caught me at a time when I had just got into movies more seriously - even though back then I was a helpless newbie.

I became a hardcore fan of the show almost instantly. I bought the DVD boxes and rewatched the episodes countless times. I was initially intrigued by the mysteries and I spent time a lot of time reading theories and giving my own input to them in a fan community. I admired the show blindly for the first three seasons, but my exploration of cinema eventually opened my eyes. At some point during the first half of the 4th season I realised that the series' writing was rather faulty. After the wonderfully character-centric first season that teased us with mysteries, the second and third seasons had an unforgivable amount of filler episodes, frozen character development and more ridiculous mysteries. But then I thought it was too late to stop so I just kept watching the show and I actually found interesting nuances and details that made me gradually more interested in the show again. The 4th season was a solid effort and I found out that I truly cared about the characters instead of the mysteries - the latter became irrelevant for me.

And that is how I ended up with the opinion I have in regards to the debate whether Lost is character-driven or plot-driven. I have become to hold the plot and mysteries merely as the framework for the characters and themes because the complicated story doesn't work on its own. There are tons of inconsistencies in writing and relying on simple "wow" factor of the mysteries is just cold and dull. And Lost did reward my patience with it because it gradually became better and better. Apart from the messy time travel section of the 5th season it only improved all the time. The series finale was not a disappointment either - it was probably the best 2 hours American TV has ever offered.

Yes, there are plotlines that go nowhere or were treated badly. Yes, there are useless mysteries that were never even addressed afterwards. Yes, most of the characters are rather one-dimensional, but they are still rather fascinating even after 6 seasons (a few of them are utterly terrible though, such as Sayid). And yes, there are only a handful unified themes in the show and some of the motifs remain unused despite repeated use. I don't know what exactly it is among these flaws that makes the show so intriguing - I guess this show is extremely holistic then.

The direction in general is rather messy. The shaky and "edgy" camerawork is dominant in the show and sometimes it is used well, but there are so many times it failed in a miserable way. There are a few notable exceptions when the camera is strictly under control and the results are glorious - the finale is a prime example. The same thing goes for editing as well - there are times when it is terribly random and distracting, but it isn't thoroughly bad. What the show always got right was its set and location design that were simply stunning.

Michael Giacchino's score deserves its own paragraph. Even though it is too sentimental, blatant, heavy-handed and schmaltzy it still works so well. There are times when it is misused or used way too much, but in overall the music keeps the form together. The suspenseful compositions have lesser effect when they are used for pretty much every scene to emphasize a superficially dramatic reveal that is obvious way before we even see it. However, haunting tracks like Life and Death (and the different arrangements of it) prove that Giacchino's score is at its best when it tries to affect your emotions deeply.

From now on there will be spoilers. SPOILER WARNING!

What will I remember about Lost? It will be the characters. You might say that one will naturally develop an emotional bond with the characters after 120 hours, but it's still amazing how the characters are so fascinating and lovable despite the actual character development being so minimal. The show's most tortured characters, Locke and Ben, were the most thoroughly explored characters in the end. Their search for redemption and clarity formed the heart of the show. Then there were great surprises in the last season, surprises which opened the characters for me.

Jack was the character the writers utterly lost after his admirable usage in the first season. However in the last two seasons they created such a clear and affectionate phase of character development as he began to carry the weight of his guilt in different ways. His actions became more and more awesome as the show went on and the logical conclusion was to become the new Jacob - even if it was a brief role that ended with his heroic sacrifice that brought tears to my eyes.

Then there was the comic relief in the form of Hurley and Miles. While Hurley was the lovable genre-savvy character who also had his own drama, Miles was the guy to make cynical remarks that worked surprisingly well on their own. Richard was a mysterious figure for a long time, but once we found about his past he became a tragic character that was even more interesting in the end. Sun & Jin mostly dealt with their own relationship and yet their sweet reunions managed to be touching - and their cruel demise was one of the most heartbreaking moments in the entire show. There was also a bunch of side characters like Frank "forget me for a few episodes" Lapidus that were rather random and useless in the end (or killed off spontaneously like Ilana, that was an epic failure).

The series finale proved me wrong when I thought it couldn't possibly be an emotionally satisfying ending to a show that dragged me along for years. The ultimate moments of redemption and happiness made the show worth watching as the writers showed us just how much they respected and loved the characters as well. And I found it truly incredible that the flash sideways timeline was a sort of an afterlife the main characters had created for themselves - it gave the show a life-affirming tone that enforced the message of "moving on" as Christian Shephard put it. It reminded us fans of the fact that there is a life outside of Lost to which we should return to eventually. I hope I can do that by completing this review. I grew up with the show and even with all of its flaws I can't avoid the fact how much I love it.

Lost (2004-2010): 6 out of 10

The series finale 'The End': 10 out of 10

The Sacrifice

Andrei Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice (1986) was the last film the legendary Russian film director ever made. Its focus is on a Swedish actor who spends time with his family after he has retired from acting. By the midpoint of the film, the film's tone becomes more menacing - towards a possible apocalypse.

Tarkovsky's trademark, meditative and philosophical content, is used yet again. Initially the film is about the actor's and his postman's ramblings on existence, but after the plot turn the film becomes an observation of people in despair. The characters enter a nearly surrealistic void that is hard to escape. And the results are rather unexpected. The film's thematics are a fine conclusion to Tarkovsky's filmography because it brings together a lot of his ideas in a gripping way.

With Sven Nykvist as the director of photography, Tarkovsky's camerawork is even more wonderful to look at. The imagery is stunning and thought-provoking (especially in the opening and the ending) and I can guarantee you that the soundtrack is astounding.

Even though The Sacrifice isn't exactly on par with Tarkovsky's best films (such as Stalker and Andrei Rublev), it is still magnificent on its own merits.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Seventh Seal

Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1957) is about a knight who wonders about life, death and the existence of God after he starts a chess match with the Death in order to save himself. Christianity is under attack when the man faces a crisis of faith, but it sadly leaves me disappointed. Maybe it's because I'm a theist, but in my opinion the film never digs deep enough into its subject. It remains on the surface level: a mere complaint about God not being there for us. However, that on its own is sufficiently explored.

Bergman's expressionistic take on the story is a bit peculiar. Sometimes the over-the-top symbolism is too comic for its own sake: Bergman can't handle the so-called "comedy" in this film. Luckily that is not the case for the entire film. There are moments when the expressionism works very well and left me a few images to remember.

The cinematography of the film is phenomenal, but otherwise the form is not as good as everyone seems to think. The editing works well, but it's not even great in its simplicity. The music gives a weird vibe for the film, but there are moments when it utterly fails because it's too dramatic.

Even though I'm a fan of the director and even though this was the second time I watched the film, I can't appreciate it. There are a few moments of brilliance, but they are hindered by the flaws.

Score: 7 out of 10

Letters to Father Jaakob

(image source)

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

Thirst

I've been eagerly waiting for a chance to see Chan-wook Park's (who happens to be one of my favourite directors ever) latest film, Thirst (2009). In my opinion, the films of his "Vengeance trilogy" are among the greatest cinematic masterpieces. As a trilogy, I would even consider over any other trilogy. I hold him as one of the few true masters of black comedy, and he even seamlessly merges it with a dramatic aspect in his films. So when I heard he was working on a story that involves a priest (played by Kang-ho Song!) turning into a vampire, I knew it was going to be an awesome film. It had all the ingredients to be an extremely "delicious" story for Park, and he made it even funnier and more complex than I could ever expect. After being transformed into a vampire, the priest tries to help a woman (Kim Ok-vin) he falls in love with.

Thirst's black humor is by no means a disappointment when compared to Park's other films. It is not as wild as in I'm a Cyborg But That's OK (2006), but it isnt subtle by any standards. There is hardly a scene without a reason to laugh out loud. Even the "creepy" and "shocking" moments are handled in a satirical (or even farcical) way. Yes, the film has a lot sex, violence and blood (LOTS of it) - and all of these are handled in a funny way despite being a bit exploitative. Sucking blood is awfully (or shall I say, "deliciously") loud, which provoked me to laugh hard. Park's genuinely funny and refreshing take on vampires is something the "Twilight generation" desparately should see.

Even though the film is full of hilarious dark humor, Park manages to dive deep into a surprisingly wide selection of themes: guilt and immortality as the most important (and obvious) ones. There is also a lovely amount of metaphors in Thirst, more than what I'm used to with Park's films - and that's a good sign. This huge amount of content makes the storytelling a little clunky at times. The pacing might seem a little uneven sometimes, and that is what a lot of critics have used as an argument against Thirst. I was able to get through most of it although there was especially one plot point that felt very uneven and rushed, but luckily it didnt distract me for longer than 5-10 minutes. The narrative will certainly cause problems for a lot of viewers, and that is why I can't honestly call Thirst perfect. Some critics say Thirst "drags on" or "overstays its initial welcome", but I can only shrug at those statements. Thirst is a very tightly packed film which couldnt be any shorter and all of its wild content is essential to maintain the film's admirable complexity.

Park's use of camera movement is unbelieveable in Thirst. The camera moves a lot, and in fascinating patterns which really pack a strong punch. His cinematography is fantastic in other aspects too. The compositions, lighting and colors are simply breathtaking and they are really used as well as they can to set the mood. Similarly to Park's Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (2001), there isn't a lot of music in Thirst. Although there are a few short bits here and there, it is almost completely nonexistent. Even the short bits are a bit subtle and silent so that even those moments are not dominated by music.

As expected, Kang-ho Song's performance is brilliant in Thirst. The priest would have been a juicy role for anyone, but Song is simply perfect for it. But surprisingly the real scene stealer is Kim Ok-vin whose pitch-perfect performance is haunting, cunning and extraordinary. She delivers the various aspects of her character (who gets an incredible amount of character development during the film) in a fascinating way. Her demonic facial expressions are simply unforgettable. As usually with Park's films, his regulars appear in small roles yet again.

In overall, Thirst is a brilliant film which is a bit difficult to watch on the first time due to the clunky storytelling, but that is only a minor flaw for me because it is - in a way - justified for the sake of maintaining the complexity.

Score: 9 out of 10