Film Review: Barking Dogs Never Bite

A wickedly smart and hilarious black comedy/social satire from the master of South Korean cinema himself, Bong Joon-Ho. It is a film about a struggling graduate student (Sung-Jae Lee) caught up the seemingly endless rat race of everyday life. The Seoul of Joon-Ho's mind is filled with a burnt out population who feel that they can only achieve greatness through unscrupulous avenues or in the unlikely event that they will end up on television. When Lee seems to be on the precipice of madness due to constant societal demands, his rage is projected onto a neighbors dog. What ensues next is an opaque but comical attempt to dispatch the poor animal.
What sets Joon-Ho apart from his cohorts in Korean Cinema, namely Park Chan-Wook, is that he isn't there to solely shock the viewer. Sure the material makes for some surprising moments, but Joon-Ho brings up some important questions. Why do people pamper animals when they themselves must toil endlessly just to achieve sustenance? Why do people long to nourish animals when they are not nourished by their own caretakers?
It is an interesting and thought provoking film that is wrapped in a delightful black comedy and is definative proof that South Korean directors are some of the most premiere filmmakers of this generation.

Film Review: Taxi Driver

For me, this film really solidified my idea that you have never really seen a film until you have seen it twice. Upon my initial viewing more than five years ago, I was really only focused on DeNiro's performance. I knew that the film itself was special, yet at the time I did not have the faculty to really analyze the film and articulate what made it so powerful. While I will probably read this review five years from now and cringe at this rough attempt at film criticism, I am going to give it my best.
From the moment that Travis' cab emerges through the steam, one gets a sense that Scorsese is going to take us down a dark road. What he gives the viewer is an in depth character analysis that drives into the mind of a neurotic ex-marine teetering on the edge of delirium.
While writer Paul Schrader helped to bring Travis Bickle into existence, DeNiro and Scorsese really bring him to life. DeNiro, who drove an actual cab for a couple weeks in order to prepare for the role, uses the most subtle of expressions to showcase the many shades of turmoil that Bickle projects. As he walks amid the maelstrom of New York City at night, his demeanor is placid, yet something is clearly boiling beneath the surface. In the hands of many other actors, Travis would have turned out more ostentatiously psychopathic and I find DeNiro creates a malevolence that is even more sinister by making Travis oddly endearing.
On paper Travis is not a simple man. Whether it be in his cab or his rather scanty apartment, he is usually shown in a constant state of isolation. Even Scorsese's direction stresses this isolation as he is usually the lone figure in the frame during a conversation while the other person is usually shot with Travis' shoulder in the foreground. He is intuitive, smart, confident, and believes himself to be a John Wayne figure even though he is more akin to Norman Bates. He is also a walking contradiction. Bickle becomes obsessed with fitness even though he predominately eats junk food and proclaims his distaste for people's licentious activities even though he frequents dirty movies. DeNiro's performance effectively encompasses all the complexities that a character such as Travis has to offer.
As for Scorsese part, he does an excellent job accenting the pieces of the city that a person such as Travis would fixate on. Scorsese's New York is gritty and ominous. As Travis' cab drives around the city, Scorsese shows that there is wanton violence at every turn. Whether this is the New York that Scorsese sees or just Bickle's perception of it, it is not depicted as a place to settle down and start a family. (Unless of course you plan to eventually kill everyone in it) Even when Travis is outside of the cab, he is bathed in the red glow of the neon lights which also brilliantly foreshadows the violence that will ensue later.
Forgive me for my tedious rehashing of all the things that make this film so memorable. I hope that it might have given some insight into the powerful piece of film that Scorsese and DeNiro have created. It is surely one that cannot afford to be missed and belongs in every film lovers collection.

Movie Review: Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Sadly, there are very few films that are capable of eliciting a visceral reaction out of me. However, Mike Nichol's 1966 debut film, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, is such a powerful film on so many levels that I cannot imagine anybody watching it without being significantly moved. The film is based on Edward Albee's Tony Award winning play and covers the events of one very long and alcohol induced night. It follows the plight of an aging couple George (Richard Burton) and Martha (Elizabeth Taylor). When friends Nick (George Segal) and Honey (Sandy Dennis) come over for a nightcap, they become caught in the middle of a series of games in which George and Martha take their pain and attempt to push each other to the breaking point. Albee's dialogue is explosive, both in terms of being emotionally charged and how it is projected, and is adeptly handled by the entire cast.. There is a brilliant mix of temperamental humor and anguish which includes one of my favorite lines, "There isn't an abomination award going that you haven't won."
While Albee's superb script provides a well-built chassis for the film, it is Nichol's direction mixed with Haskell Wexler's brilliant cinematography that makes this film really take off. Often times the camera will capture the scene as if it were merely a fly on the wall. However, Nichols really knows the material and will zoom in to the point of intrusion when a character feels emotionally isolated or verbally backed into a corner. In one particularly distinguished scene that deviates from the play, Nichols captures George walking into the back of the house when the Martha and the guests are still conversing in the living room. Even though George is out of ear shot of the others, Nichols keeps the audio of their conversation going while he follows George. This illuminates the extent of Martha's deviance as George can still knows that Martha will be speaking ill of him even when he is not in her company. Also, in the same vein as a noir, Nichols uses mirrors to show how these characters never take a good hard look at themselves and what they have become. One is even shoved in the face of George at one point, yet he is too steeped in his own misery to even see the man on the other side.
The performances here are simply astounding by all players involved. Although Taylor would nab the Oscar for best actress, I really feel as though Burton was snubbed. While his character could have just been watered down to nothing more than a dispensary of caustic wit, Burton injects a sense of humanity into the character that is present in the smallest of gestures.
Historically, this film is bold as it was produced in some of the most impassioned years of the civil rights movement. These years saw a mass movement to finally put an end to the anti-miscegenation laws that had previously prevented interracial marriages in America. This film shows that even white upper-middleclass marriages, which were seen as a bulwark against the decay of the human race, had their blemishes.
In the end, it is a beautiful film about a volatile relationship. It is about pain and the fiction that we manufacture in order to deal with it. The film isn't easy to watch, but if you do you will find that this is an absolutely astounding film.

Review: 400 Blows

François Truffaut's 1959 semi-autobiographical piece regarding indolent youth and the society that generates them is captivating, elegantly conceived, and still feels robust even 50 years after it's conception. Through the film's protagonist Antoine (Jean-Pierre Leaud), the director shows the multi-faceted nature of adolescence. Whether it is with his camera, in scenes such as the one where Antoine is sitting before 3 different mirrors which all capture different aspects of his physique, or with his direction, in which it seems as though Truffaut's life has been inculcated into the young actor through osmosis, Truffaut displays the complexities of youth in an honest and cogent manner.
As far as education goes, the adults in this story don't seem to be interested in developing nuance, but rather a future race of citizens with the very same set of ideals. Many of the lessons we are shown in the film have to do with the children's memorization and regurgitation of old poems. When this proves futile, the teacher exclaims that France will be in sorry shape in the next ten years. Truffaut shows the damage that this type of education brings by highlighting one child as he fights to write the words down even as the inkwell is leaking onto the pages, defiling his skin, and staining the very nature of who he is.
Caught between an adulterous mother and an apathetic father, Antoine's one saving grace is the cinemas. Truffaut's true love for film comes out in these scenes as he captures the boy's sense of wonder as he marvels at the celluloid before him. Truffaut even includes a scene of Antoine stealing a still of Welles' Citizen Kane. A touching tribute to another young and influential filmmaker.
This being my first film that I have seen of the Nouvelle Vague, I am not yet familiar with all of the visual staples of this movement. Yet, you would have to be visually impaired not to see how beautifully shot this film is. From the tracking shots in the classroom to illuminate the idiosyncrasies of the classroom environment to the POV shots used to show the physical and mental imprisonment of Antoine, Truffaut judiciously uses his camera to expound a particular mood.
While I know that only the further consumption of films from the New Wave will help me to better understand the universal importance of this movement, if the 400 Blows is any indication, I will not be let down.

Film Reviews

I have been taking a stab at film reviews lately. It is just a selfish exercise for me but maybe some of you could find something that you might want to watch out of it. Maybe not, but here it goes.

My first film is Akira Kurosawa's Stray Dog


While someone could make the argument that all cinema is poetic in certain ways, no set of films personify cinematic poetry more than the films of Akira Kurosawa. Even in his earlier films such as Stray Dog, he gives the viewer a generous bounty to chew on. Not only is this a noir influence crime drama, but a priceless time capsule of the Japanese experience in the aftermath of a devastating World War. In the vein of Italian Neorealism, Kurosawa captures the essence of everyday life in a land ravaged by war. While the film focuses on Detective Murakami's (Toshiro Mifune) pursuit to find his missing Colt from the criminal Yusa, Kurosawa doesn't give us a cut and dry story of good versus evil. In fact, the story is rather messy. Like the characters in this story, all of Japan is in the grasps of what appears to be bedlam. Filmed in 1949, Japan's black market was still running rampant during this time and the film features a lengthy montage of actual footage of the black market. In a time with such rampant poverty, class disparity, and widespread vice, the film begs the question what constitutes crime when the entire land is beset by turmoil? Kurosawa is constantly blurring the lines between good and bad and in one particularly compelling scene has both the "hero" and "villan" wrestling in some mud and coming out looking nearly identical.
The film also oscillates between rapidly paced scenes with quick edits and long static takes in which Kurosawa really takes his time in telling the story. This can be rather laborious to watch for someone who has grown up on a steady diet of Transformers and Fast and Furious. In many scenes where the action seems to be near a climax, Kurosawa lets his characters light a cigarette in the middle of a pivotal exchange. Tedious as it may seem for some to get through, Kurosawa let's you really revel in the moment. If you take the director up on his invitation rather than throw your hands up in vexation, there is much on screen to reward you.
There are some skillfully choreographed shots that put many modern films to shame. Also, much like his other films Rashomon and Ikiru, he focuses heavily on the weather to symbolize either the beauty or the turbulence that the characters are experiencing internally. These are just a few examples of the many motifs that Kurosawa employs. Although it is one of his earlier pieces, it certainly illuminates Kurosawa's exceptional proficiency in terms of filmmaking.